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rxsilabeth--er · 2 days

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But being a criminal and getting trans!reg pregnant....like it's all planned.

Reader being obsessed with reg from the beginning from when he was just a trainee and committing crimes just so he could visit the scenes and watch reg. Killing people till he's darling boy is head of this case and being the one to bring him in. When he is, he chats up reg at a bar or sth, and poor reg is so clueless. Doesn't the guy he's riding and losing his mind over is the same person who is killing all those young victims he's investigating. By the time he figures it out, everything has gone to hell. And little reg is pregnant with the child of a serial killer. The worst part is that he knows. He can't tell anyone cause if his team finds out he got knocked by the psycho they're trying to catch, he'll lose the respect of the entire bureau. And Reg doesn't want to abort cause he's too stupidly in love with the man that gave him the child. However, he's shocked when he finds out the man made a small mistake in the last crime scene, but his team doesn't know it's killer and reg is a hundred percent sure the clue wasn't a mistake and was all planned out. And know he's interviewing his baby daddy in a small metal room who is highly aware of the tiny life growing inside of him and is too smug about it. With his new role as a potential witness to the case, he decides to offer his help with catching the murder and reg's boss agrees and is grateful to have the help of a local. Soo he grows to be liked by the whole group, and it's torture for reg. He keeps pulling reg into closets and bending him over the desk, promising to give him the little family he's always talked about on their dates, teasing him about how he has always been an over achiever and Regulus knows he could easily let himself hate him had their were not moments where the man was too domestic. Him walking into the office, wrapping his arms around his waist, rubbing his stomach. Talking about how their swert child will come out a genius. How he'll marry reg, whenever his ready. Always carrying with him water so reg is hydrated, doughnuts for the craving. Home-cooked meals, that reg can't help but mouth over. When reg is working too hard he'll walk into the office rub his back and little bump, telling him he shouldn't work too hard, it's bad for the baby, whispering little clues about the case In his ears. He'll buy him presents and make little baby jokes in front of everyone, making everyone confused. They'll ask if he's got a special someone at home and he's like yeah, we're expecting. He'll look reg right in the eye and go "smartest and prettiest little mama I've ever seen" and when it gets too hard for reg to cover the bump, he promises he'll quit but only if reg agrees to live with him.

Sorry, I may have gotten too obsessed 😅 I got this idea at what? 3:50 a.m and now it's 4:22. Had to get it all down immediately 😭

I'm drooling over this, it's such a piece of diamond!!! I NEED IT!! Oh my god, it's so cute yet so sexy!! Here take preggo! Reggie smut in exchange for the amazing gold's price!!| Warnings: dub-con? Slight manhandling, gun on head (reg's fine, dw), reader is kinda unhinged and insane, chocking, reg's pregnant, I have no idea, what came over me to write this...

Thank god, everyone in the office was actually gone out to eat, Regulus said he wasn't feeling and you brightly volunteered to stay behind to care of the Head Detective and the others agree, because you're a local who became VERY close with the group.

And Regulus knew why...Regulus's head felt like it was burning, crying on his knees, spewing insults, yelling, screaming and what not simply to argue with you over the fact that you're always at his office now and he doesn't like it...

You simply grinned down at him, you liked when he cried, it was cute, you know you should be angry at him, but maybe it was the fact that he was pregnant that suddenly made him so cute and made you want to make him cry more and mewl on your cock like that other night in the forest where you pounded in him on the forest floor beside his friend, Barty's house.

Softly you walked close to the kneeling boy, lifting his face softly and grabbing his face tightly, "You cry so damn much, it's fucking annoying how pretty you look." you softly hummed as Regulus's soft whimpering as you grab his arm and lift him up, pulling him up as you sat on his chair, the Head detective's chair.

You let him stand as he continued to scream at you for the next few minutes, maybe it was the pregnancy moodswings but after a few minutes of screaming, he stood there sobbing, pregnancy emotions always got out of hand, you guessed.

Softly he walked closer to you, sitting in your lap, crying in your neck as your hands stroked his thigh and sides, one hand travelling up to the top of his jacket, you softly pulled it off as he continued to cry, whine and sob on your lap, as one hand unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt softly, the other rubbing his thigh, the shirt still tucked in enough to hide his body well.

You snaked your hands inside his shirt, rubbing his stomach where you felt the smallest amount of movement, was it from Reg's breathing or the baby's notice of his father being around, you didn't know, you preferred the latter, knowing the man in your lap could never help his greediness he had over you, his obsession over you which he tried SO HARD to deny always made you grin and made you think how cute he'd like crying on your cock.

The other hand softly unbutton his trousers, your hands slipped inside his pants on his hips, holding his hips softly as you pet his hips a bit for him to lift his hips for you remove his trousers. Throwing them haphazardly, your fingers softly grazed his clothed cunt, already starting to wet and leak even through his panties, "Oh? Already wet...expected this from you honestly." you hummed softly, taking his hand on yours and guiding it to your trousers.

As he unbuttoned your pants, you simply pushed his panties aside and stroked his cunt and clit, but not touching him where he wants. Panting and whining, he simply pulled out your cock, whining as you simply sighed. "Pitiful.." you stared at him, but he's pregnant, might as well be sweet right?

So that's how he ended up riding you, wailing and moaning like it's nobody's business as his fingers were plunged in your mouth, plugging your mouth as you sucked and slobbered over his fingers like he did on your cock with a smirk seeing him go crazy and whiny simply from bouncing over you, one of your hands rubbing and squeezing his clit and the other rubbing his tummy which was seemingly growing to show your kid inside him...

Thrusting up into his cunt, the hand which was on his stomach moved up to softly pinch his nipples just as the ringtone of your phone rang through the office, as Regulus's cries resonated within the walls, just before you pulled his panties you tore off of him and shoved it in his mouth, taking the call, putting it on speaker and placing it on the table, while one of your hands held his wrists tightly, while the other moved to hold his throat.

Noticing his movements stopped, you leaned close to his tear-stricken face and asked, "What? Did I ask you to stop? Continue fucking riding." you said softly, you were sure if not for the panties stuck in his mouth and your hand on his throat he would whine loudly to show everyone what was happening.

"Hello?" Barty's voice came from the call, "Yeah? Hello Barty!!" You asked brightly, in contrary to how you were fucking Regulus on your dick. As Regulus continued to bounce on top you, "Yeah, uh, we're reaching the station back in like two to three minutes." Barty said as all blood ran from Regulus's face while you only smirked,

"Oh? Oh, please, do come early...I miss you all and if not me, then Reggie sure does, don't you?" you said smirking as Barty laughed over the phone, "I bet, aight, I'll tell Evan to drive faster, can't leave our besties alone, can we? See you!" he said before hanging up as you pulled Regulus's panties out his mouth, making him whine as you pressed down on his throat and rubbed his clit a bit harshly,

"Why-...Why would you..you-fuck! Why would you do that?!" he asked, trying to be angry, but his exterior flattered the moment you thrust inside of him, hearing him wail.

"Come on, hurry up, don't you want to cum? If not now, then you'll have to wait up until, I don't know....a few hours?" you said as he suddenly began speeding his movements up, as you relaxed in the chair, groaning as you kissed his chest and left hickeys, biting him as he simply whined and tried his best to ride you. Your hands no longer working on his body neither did you put in any effort, if he wanted it, he can have it all by himself especially after screaming at you,

"i'm still upset at you yelling at me, so I will relax, you use me and get yourself off." you said simply, hands simply on his stomach, stroking his swelling belly, letting him use you.

Regulus tried his best to replicate the feelings of you, pinching his nipples, squeezing his clit, plunging your fingers in his hole besides your cock if you felt more mean, or the way your cock touched parts of his body his long fingers couldn't even reach...

His wet finger rubbing his own clit, as he ride to bounce himself on top of you like you always force him to, the other hand on top of yours on his stomach, feeling your cock bulging in his stomach, it was hurting, but he simply couldn't reach his good points!

What the hell, you're supposed to care for him, your baby's momma, your pretty little baby and your gorgeous princess (as you called him in a degrading way).

It wasn't helping that you were pinching his nipples seemingly out of nowhere and reminding him, "Come on, don't want the whole sector to know you're a whore right? They're gonna be here any minute now." he said. His pleasure was teetering between too much and too little and it was driving him wild,

"Ah-fuck!...please! I-I'm..fuck..I'm sorry, it's not working!!" he whined, his tears dripped down his cheeks with drool also falling down his cheeks making you shake your head, "I'm sorry, baby. You're on your own." you said simply, groaning as he clamped down on your, throwing your head back, sadism making you feel happy and a smirk on your lips as he again began to move up and down, his thighs burning just as the sounds of other's car's parking was heard.

"Oh, looks like they're here, awwhhh, baby, hurry up, come on, cum." you said with fake pity as Regulus let out a loud whine, near scream,

"PLEASE! I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry...Please..it hurts and I-fuck! Can't do it, I need you, I need you!....in here..Please daddy? Don't wanna pleasure your little cumslut...am I not carrying your baby?" he softly, whined taking your hand and placing it on his dripping cunt softly throwing his head back, you groaned and rolled your eyes as you held his hips, the fucking cumslut was smart and fucking cute,

"Awhh, fine. But hear me slut, you're not cumming the whole night after this." he said as he nodded desperately, "Fine, yes, yes!!" he nodded as you looked over to see Barty, Evan, Pandora, James, Sirius, Remus, Lily and literally everyone in the group was entering the building.

You quickly pulled out and flipped him over, slamming back inside as you pounded him on the table, as you looked over the desk to see your gun that confiscated in a opened drawer, pulling it you softly placed it on his head, making Regulus tense up, as you continued to pound inside him, spanking his ass red and rubbing it softly between your warmed up palm of the other hand before it moved to bundle up in his hair to pull up his falling and lolling head as his whined,

"Awhh, what? Scared, baby? You should be. Fucking brat, you should be fucking grateful I don't pull the trigger for almost revealing my identity...But fuck, baby, I love you." you hummed moving fast, moving the fun down to nudge his clit with the cold metal as you pounded in him, pulling his hair, and biting his shoulders, you were dressed up but he wasn't except his opened shirt hanging from his shoulders.

Regulus's whines began to be more high-pitched and faster, "Uh..No, wait..it feels weird, sir! PLEASE! It-fuck, feels like I'm gonna pee...Please, no i'm-ngh!...I'm gonna cum." he whined, thrashing softly as you placed the gun back on the table and shoved fingers in his mouth, gagging him on them, as the other pinched and rubbed his clit roughly, you could hear the other's footsteps outside on the corridors...

"Fucking cum, I better not get caught. They're just outside the door, sweetheart." you hissed as Regulus whined and let out a soundless cream as he squirted over you dripping down as he clamped down on your cock, his head dizzy as he whined softly.

That pushed you over the edge as you quickly came inside him and pulled out, staring at his dripped ass as Regulus scrambled to get his articles of clothing, including the ripped up panties and ran to the bathroom, banging the door closed just as the door opened to them, "Hey!! We got food for you as well!!" Pandora said brightly holding up a bag as they all stare at you fixing your unbutton shirts with a sweet smile, back on your lips,

"Hi, welcome back!! Where were you all gone for?" you asked, fixing your pants behind the desk hiding you as you smiled brightly. "Oh, nowhere really." Mary said sighing as she pulled up a chair beside you as you sat on the Head Detective's desk, "Where is Regulus?" Dorcas asked, as you slightly panicked, "Oh, uh, he's in the bathroom." you said smiling nodding towards the bathroom in the office.

Everyone nodded as Pandora handed you the food bag, "Oh yeah, speaking of. Reminds me, you look unsuually happy, are you expecting someone at home?" James asked smiling, as you nodded with a boyish grin,

"Yep, i'm expecting a baby!" You said just as Regulus walked out wiping his face with a napkin, his clothes back on, " the prettiest and gorgeous mama I've ever seen.." you said softly smiling at Regulus who blushed and walked closer, shooing you to get your own chair...

You pulled one beside him, as everyone began leaving to go back to different things they had to work on, as you ate your food in silence with Regulus, pulling him back to sit in your lap on the Head Detective's chair, a hand on his tummy.

You didn't really notice it, but after the few months, he was honestly starting to show, if not for the fact that he wore a brown blazer over it that hid his stomach, but if he wasn't wearing it, it was blatantly obvious as you stared at his stomach.

Regulus noticing your gaze no tummy, he hid it under his arms, his insecurity skyrocketed since becoming pregnant, but despite being insane it would be wrong to lie since he was looking gorgeous than anything,

"Quit this job, I'll take care of you." you blurted out suddenly making Regulus glare at you, "You have a lot of fucking audacity." he said pulling you close by your collar, "I'm serious...I don't want you to be held responsible if I got caught being a killer, I want you and the baby to be safe, quit this. I have money, I'll take care of you." you said softly, rubbing his stomach with one of the rare, genuine smile you held making Regulus a bit surprised but sigh,

"I'll see...", "Thank sweet mama.. :)"

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your3fundamentaltruths · 2 hours

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2 Years of turn around, bright eyes!

Thank you SO much to everyone who has read, commented on, and otherwise engaged with turn around, bright eyes! It has been quite the ride to plot out and write and I've loved hearing your thoughts and theories and been made to blush by your exceedingly kind words. Thank you for sticking with me!

Since I did not get a new chapter ready in time for the actual anniversary date on April 15th, I'm dropping a flashback from an upcoming chapter.

Without further ado . . .

He is eight when baby Colin’s arrival on a blustery January morning makes him an eldest – rather than merely elder – brother.

The last night it would only be they two Bridgerton boys, Benedict sneaks into his room and stays through the night. They sleep top and tail, fitfully, until tiredness overtakes even their unease at hearing their mother’s cries of pain as she struggles to bring their new sibling into the world.

Early the next morning, as the light of dawn begins to peek through his curtains, Anthony awakens to find their father hovering over his bed, a bundle of blankets in his arms that cannot be anything other than the new baby.

“Good morning, Anthony,” says Papa in a scratchy voice as Benedict slowly stirs to wakefulness.

“Morning,” he mumbles. “May I see?”

“Once Benedict budges up, I’ll sit.”

He kicks his younger brother in the shin, which wakes him up properly.

Benedict scowls at him, but he mirrors his stance, sitting up to make room for Papa and –

“This is your brother,” Papa says softly once he’s settled down between them, the baby cradled gently in his arms. “Colin.”

Two children whose names start with A for the elder and B for the younger might be a coincidence; choosing a name beginning with C for the third officially makes it a pattern. Nose crinkling, he tilts his head in question.

Papa grins. “Your mama insisted.”

“Mm,” he murmurs noncommittally. He would never dream of criticizing Mama, but it’s really rather silly. Oh well. He looks more closely at his new brother.

He isn’t sure what he expected, precisely, but the baby looks . . . like a baby, with chubby pink cheeks and a little fuzz of indeterminate color on his head.

Papa laughs when he makes that observation aloud. “He’ll grow into himself eventually and we’ll get to know him and his personality properly. Give it some time.”

“His eyes are like mine,” Benedict says smugly when their new brother blinks open his eyes for a few moments.

He frowns; Benedict isn’t quite right (the baby’s eyes are a much darker shade of blue) but they are blue, so he is – and it seems will continue to be – the odd one out with his dark, dark eyes. “No, they’re not –”

“Either way, they might well change,” Father interrupts, well-practiced at defusing their disputes. “Babies’ eyes often do.”

(Colin’s will not. They stay the same dark blue he entered the world with, the same dark blue with which Eloise, Francesca, and eventually Hyacinth will all be born – their mother’s dark blue.

Only when Gregory comes along will one of his younger siblings finally share his eye color.)

Papa clears his throat. “You are both big brothers now. That is a very serious thing. You will need to teach him everything you know and guide him so that he grows to be a good, kind boy as I try to teach you to be.”

He and Benedict exchange solemn looks, their fingers ghosting over the edge of the blanket and not quite touching their baby brother’s tiny fingers; they can sense at least some of the import of Papa’s statement based on his tone, before turning to Papa and nodding seriously.

“We will,” he says fiercely – if quietly, so as not to startle baby Colin, who startles him by wrapping his little fist around his index finger.

And stealing his heart.

For as long as he can remember, Benedict has been his best friend and his partner in crime, but he knows in that moment that Colin will be something entirely different.

(He does not know then that it will be Colin with whom he makes nearly all his worst mistakes as a brother.)

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #colin bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #edmund bridgerton #turn around bright eyes #my fic

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hmsmilkbone · 7 months

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honestly. I don't really have a lot of interest in jjk anymore, which is super frustrating as the story foundation is really interesting. I have my favorite characters, and I'm not really interested in reading beyond this point.

As a whole, I'm not a huge fan of dropping stories just because they don't go the way you want. In general I personally try not to do this, but stories where the author clearly hates the material or the audience so much they're willing to destroy the story to do so are not enjoyable. I really don't think gege even really likes writing jjk anymore.

There may be some change that I hear about months from now where something worked out one way or the other, but in general I feel like this story is not going to resolve in a way that feels like reading it was a worthwhile experience. And like, for good OR bad. Not every story has a happy ending, but this is really not particularly interesting and I don't feel the need to continue a story where the writer isn't even interested in what happens or how it advances anything outside of their personal pettiness. Feels very much like grr Martin. All the meaningless death and abuse without any real redeeming qualities.

I'm trying to remind myself that not every author wants to be a storyteller. Not every story is good. It's ok to read stories that aren't the best simply because you want to see where it goes, but gege isn't superior in some way, and i dont 'trust that he's cooking'. Even if the story turns around in an interesting or strategic way, I really am not particularly impressed. Ordinarily I would stay along for the ride, but I can't bring myself to care about something even the author doesn't care about. :/

#jjk spoilers #idk i really just dont have any expectations anymore #i love reading books apart from manga and ive had to put down a few because they felt like this #and i have almost always found that in the end my perception of the author and their story was accurate #it makes me sad seeing this unfold in this way #but the shibuya arc which is apparently the least ljked arc in the series #is stretching on forever and people arent enjoying it #anecdotally ive seen a lot of people drop the series #and eventually its just gojng to be all the grimdark losers who unironically love shit like this #it just feels very much like a story for men who hate people #it feels like all the weirdos who made the joker their personality and all the dudes who cant breathe without talking about fight club #or like.. say shit about how the liberals are ruining media like thats the kind of person i see talking about jjk most of the time now #using slurs and not even having intelligent conversations about what's happening #the conversation is usually 'sukuna mid no cap' 'are you stupid gojo is mid stop copium'#and that exchange is repeated over and over like. you have nothing else to add at this point?#i mean i know its primarily bc honestly there really isnt any depth to the story beyond that but my god #what an insufferable way to write or receive a story #and honestly!! i really dont feel like jjk fits into a kids story category at this point #so i do actually feel ljke it is reasonable to expect better writing #not that stories aimed toward kids are bad but one piece is a good example of a story geared more towards children or young adults #adults CAN enjoy it but oda intentionally does not make the story so upsetting that kids cant read it and feel reflected in the events #but jjk is very very different and i think the drop in the quality of writing is reflected in the growing toxicity of the fanbase #anyways.. if you read jjk & youre feeling upset its ok to step away and check in once a month when you can mentally / emotionally prepare #i had to enforce a no read/watch accountability pact with my friends because it was making their depression worse again #no story is worth your health. gege does not give a flying fuck about you. you need to take care of yourself.#im just enjoying my sandbox with the characters and when the story is over ill check back in #theres no right way to experience the story but if its not healthy for you #you wont miss anything by unplugging #and you may find that you really dont want to get back into it when you read it again to check on the story every once in a while #jjk 237

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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!”

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look.

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled, letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever.

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared.

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness.

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you. Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie.

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”.

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled.

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke.

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room.

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you.

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care.

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed.

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached.

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side, “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him.

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.”

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp.

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before.

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut.

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera.

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor.

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed.

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t. There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened.

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same.

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now.

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio.

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling.

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back.

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer.

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin.

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you. “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose.

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master.

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants.

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths.

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety.

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger.

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages. Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song.

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

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deadsetobsessions · 2 months

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Of all the places he could have been summoned to, Danny Phantom had never considered a private school’s bathroom to be one of them.

With glowing green skin, a shock of flickering flames for hair, and a suit made out of the spaces between collapsing stars, Danny stared down at the stupefied faces of Gotham Academy’s finest students. One of them had their face in their hands, having caught sight of him and undergoing all the stages of grief in but a moment.

They sat around a circle that he was appropriately impressed with considering the limited space they had to work with. Danny could see the empty stalls, some of which were adorned with drawings and writings that were left by the, no-doubt, extremely busy caretaker.

“Seriously, a bathroom?” Danny wrinkled his nose.

“Holy shit, that actually worked?” One of the kids blurted out, then slammed their hands on top of their mouth.

“Did you expect it not to?” Danny squinted at them, frowning. It’s Friday, so it’s not like he had much to do, but Danny would prefer it if his time wasn’t wasted.

“No- no, your… uh, highness?”

“All of that schooling and you’re still uneducated,” one of the other ones hissed at the red headed kid who spoke. It’s “Your Majesty.” He’s a king, idiot!”

That was a pretty solid burn but, “It’s actually just Phantom. Did you guys want something? I’m busy.”

He’s not busy, but who cares?

“Uh…” the kids exchanged glances. The one in the back sighed and spoke up. He adjusted his glasses.

“We’re sorry for bothering you, Phantom. You wouldn’t happen to have a solution for dimensional separation, would you?”

“Huh.” Danny tilted his head, face souring. “I hate dimensional issues. They’re the worst. Who’s causing them?”

“His name’s Klarion!” The one who slapped a hand across his mouth earlier piped up.

“Oh! The lords of chaos or whatever. Yeah, I can help, for a price.”

Danny is against unpaid labor. Extremely against it, considering his side gig is being a half-dead vigilante. Then again, are you really a vigilante if you’re not half dead on a regular basis?

“What do you want?” Despite the reluctance from earlier, it’s clear the one with the glasses made the big decisions in this weird friend group.

“… A hundred dollars.”

“That’s it? No stipulations?” When Danny nodded, the kid had a calculating expression. “Deal.” The teen said immediately. He pulled out cash and wow, Danny’s definitely in a place with a different tax bracket.

He snatched it. Nasty burger money!

“Deal’s a deal. Also, don’t ever summon me again, but if you do, don’t ever do it in a bathroom again. You kids are so weird.” Danny floated out of the circle, grinning sharply. He formed a small bird- he doesn’t know why, but it felt right- of ice and handed it to the kid with glasses. “There. Proof of the deal.”

With that, Danny disappeared. Private school kids were so fucking weird, but… Dash and his goons were probably worse. What’s a little ritualistic summoning in the face of teenagers?

——

“I leave you guys alone for ten minutes and you summon the king of the dead?” Robin narrowed his eyes at his teammates, traitors who had the good graces to look sheepish. “How could you?! I wanted to try, too!”

Kid Flash patted him on the shoulder, a granola bar appearing in his mouth now that the possible world ending terror disappeared. “Sorry, Rob. Maybe next time! Magic still isn’t real though.”

“I’m not doing this shit in a bathroom again,” Artemis rolled back to her feet. “He sounded like he was going to rip our bones out if we ever summoned him in a bathroom again.”

“Ugh…”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #batman #bruce wayne #dc x dp #dick grayson #Robin #young justice #artemis crock #kid flash #I’m aware Artemis didn’t know about rob in this ep #I think? it’s been a while since I’ve watched it #Wally West

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uglypastels · 7 months

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the Special | Sanji x reader

a/n - my first One Piece fic. absolutely terrifying but definitely a needed change of scenario to get out of my writing block. please be kind; I'm taking all my inspo from the live-action as that is what I am currently the most familiar with. but, well, we just have to see how it goes. bon appetite

Shoutout to my dear @mydearzero for encouraging my newfound obsession with this show and this character, as well as generally encouraging me to write. this is all your fault. And to everyone else who had been expecting me to finally post one of the other million fics I had promised... I'm sorry

And kind reminder that reblogs is what makes tumblr work. Please, if you enjoyed the story, reblog

word count: 9.9k

warning: 18+ only. MDNI. smut. piv sex. oral sex (f!receiving). unprotected sex [wrap up your eggplants yall]. semi-public sex. several FDA regulation code breaks, probably. afab reader. swearing. little bit of angst. shitty and fat-shaming [oc!]boyfriend/date. fist fight. alcohol consumption.

“Look at your waiter's face. He knows. It's another reason to be polite to your waiter; he could save your life with a raised eyebrow or a sigh.”

― Anthony Bourdain,��

The first thing you saw was the red, bright sign spelling out the restaurant's name.

Baratie. You had no clue what it meant but could only hope that “the best restaurant in the East Blue” was somewhere down the list of its definitions, especially after the months that they had kept you on the waiting list and the tumultuous trip that it took to sail there. Next, as your ship approached, you saw the… fish head. The sight of the sculpture at the front of the ship structure buried some worry in the pit of your stomach, but surely, if so many people had given it such fond reviews, the exterior was not to speak for what awaited you inside.

‘Believe me, baby, you’ll love it here.’

‘I really hope so,’ you smiled as you got off your boat. Your legs shook at the knee as you stepped onto the sturdy dock planks. Days at sea, which had never been your friend, had clearly done more damage than you expected. You would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for the pair of arms holding on to you.

‘Thanks, Chosi,’ you said towards your boyfriend as he helped you steadily get back onto your feet.

‘Can’t have you faceplant the second we get here,’ he brushed some invisible dust off your shoulder, and with his arm entwined with yours, he led you to the entrance of the establishment. You grabbed at the skirt of your dress to keep it down as the wind blew by.

As you walked, you looked at all the other ships harboured on the… was this an island? Was the entirety just one large ship? Was it anchored to something then, or was it drifting around the seas constantly? You couldn’t quite comprehend the logistics of it all. But you could tell that humans and other creatures of all walks of life–royalty, commoners, marines, pirates—were unbothered by each other's presence and enjoying the outing. Once inside, the shushed sound of the waves was exchanged for a whisper of swing music, as well as the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons and the clinking of their cutlery on plates. The walls were lined in crimson wallpaper as well as painted depictions of sea battles, accented in gold and bronze details matching the furniture placed spaciously around the room and the two stories above it that lead the eye to a beautiful aquamarine ceiling that gave the illusion as if one was looking up at the bright sky from underwater.

The maitre’d, a Fishman, stood to attention at your entrance.

‘Good afternoon, how may I help you?’ he asked kindly.

‘We have a reservation. Name is Chosi,’ Chosi stated with his head held high. Despite you doubting that anyone knew his name in these parts of the world, he never ceased to pronounce it with a level of expectation to it. It was commendable, as well as disappointing, when nothing happened afterwards. The maitre’d simply nodded and glanced down at his long list of names, searching for the one he had just heard, ready to cross it off.

‘Ah, yes, right here. Please, do follow me to your table.’ And so, you did just that, walking down the grand staircase onto the restaurant's main floor, where you seated at one of the smaller tables, perfect for a romantic dinner for two. ‘Your waiter will be right with you.’ The Fishman bid you farewell just like that and returned to his position at the door.

‘So?’ Chosi looked at you with a raised brow as you looked around.

‘It is quite stunning.’ You must admit that you did not expect this kind of splendour when looking at the carved fish that gaped at you outside. Something about that just did not exude the same essence as the timeless and classy beauty of the interior. You barely even felt the shake of the waves beneath you.

Maybe your response wasn’t sufficient, for Chosi had opened his mouth to respond, something in the angles of his face announcing displeasure, but he was interrupted by a new presence at your table. You looked up at the tall figure towering over you.

‘Welcome,’ the man spoke, his accent clearly indicating his origin if only you had been aware of where that was. Simultaneously, he put down a plate of bread rolls, perfectly and meticulously positioned atop it. ‘...to Baratie. My name is Sanji; I will be your waiter this afternoon.’

‘Took you long enough.’ Chosi mumbled under his breath, giving you an immense urge to kick him underneath the table, but you knew better than to do that, especially when he did not seem to be ready to stop any time soon. ‘Trying to convince my girl this place is worth visiting, heh.’ You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the waiter—Sanji, he said was his name—did not seem to give the comment much thought as he looked down at you with a curve to his thin-lined lips.

‘My apologies, madame; I hope my service will not give you the false impression of this establishment being worth any of your precious time.’ The smoothness of his voice almost concealed the true meaning behind his speech, leaving you, as well as your date, speechless. However, you felt your speaking ability to be taken away by more than just his words as you spared a second to take your waiter in properly. You just could not help but notice how his suit wrapped around his arms, and although one was covered by his blonde hair, his eyes had a glint of something that excited you despite not even knowing the root of that excitement.

Like nothing had happened, Sanji continued, ‘Would you care to see the menu? Hear the specials?’ That is when you noticed the menu cards he was holding in his hand. And he must have been ready to list the special items, but Chosi was a step ahead.

‘Actually, I think we are ready to order.’ That was the first you had heard of it, but you stayed put as he continued. After all, Chosi had eaten here before. He knew what was good, and you could trust his judgement.

‘Prime rib, medium rare,’ as your boyfriend spoke, you kept your eye on the waiter, noticing the appearance of the smallest of flinches in his face at the sound of the dish, but never faltering his picture-perfect appearance, ‘and my lady will have the salad.’

Another twitch, right below his visible eyes, followed, but Sanji’s professional facade stayed on as he inquired: ‘We offer quite a variety of salads; which would madame prefer?’ And with that, he turned to you, that smile plastered on like a sticker, but he had trouble keeping it on as the answer to his question did not come from your mouth.

‘Whichever is the best, of course.’ Chosi rolled his eyes, and you wished you could do so as well. The waiter glanced between you and him, turning back to you momentarily. Long enough for you to give him a reassuring smile. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he just moved on from the matter.

‘Drinks, then,’ Sanji again spoke with an unphased essence about him, as if nothing from the past few minutes had ever occurred, or at least tried to emulate this. ‘Madam, anything I can get you?’ The way he emphasised that word didn’t require any pointed glares.

‘Uhm,’ you hesitated as he kept his full attention on you, completely ignoring the man sitting opposite you at the table, making Chosi stare at you just as, if not more, intensely, for all the opposite reasons. Out of panic, you just blurted out the most straightforward order. ‘Just water, thank you.’ It being the first words you said in the waiter's presence, they came out soft. Nothing like your regular voice, which startled you slightly.

‘Still, sparkling or mineral?’ Sanji pursued.

‘Still please,’ you smiled shyly, unsure where that actual shyness derived from.

‘Ice? Cubed or crushed?’ He fired the questions at a rapid pace.

‘A bit of ice is fine. Thank you,’ you repeated yourself, looking down at the table and letting the waiter move on to the rest of the order. He didn’t say anything else but looked at Chosi with anticipation.

‘I’ll have your finest brew.’

‘Coming up,’ his voice had a sudden coldness to it as he walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving the table to a thick silence.

‘I could have ordered for myself, you know,’ you said, with that same soft tone you had spoken with earlier, although this felt much more familiar seeing who you talked to.

‘And have you stuff yourself with some useless carbs? C’mon, you know I’m just looking out for you, here.’

‘I know.’ You straightened out a fork in front of you, suddenly feeling uneasy at how far away from the plate it was positioned compared to the knife on the opposite side. You were straightening out a crease in the tablecloth when Sanji returned with a silver tray in one hand. He placed the pint glass full of golden brew in front of Chosi before turning your way and setting a glass beside your plate. With a pair of tongs, one by one, he let ice cubes fall to the bottom of it, the clinking against the glass almost deafening. Then, he followed up with another pair of tongs and reached for a little tray but stopped himself to ask you: ‘Care for a slice of lemon, madame?’

‘Oh, uhm, sure,’ you shrugged, unable to look away. This process of pouring a glass of water felt rather extensive, but you could not deny the fact you were enjoying it all. As he grabbed the large pitcher to pour the water, you were unsure how he had carried all of these items with one hand and did so seemingly effortlessly.

‘There we go,’ he smiled, ‘your food will be with you shortly, but do let me know if you require anything else.’ And just like that, he was gone again, but not without leaving you feeling that he had meant his parting words especially for you and that that sentiment had undoubtedly not escaped your date.

‘I don’t like the look of that guy.’ Chosi glared at you as he took a sip from his pint, slurping up the top layer of foam with it.

‘I think he’s quite sweet.’ You straightened out the fork again and reached for a bread roll to tear it apart piece by piece.

‘Of course you would,’ he rolled his eyes, which made you look up from your little snack.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ You put the bread roll down as the pit in your stomach hollowed out your appetite. Right, making space for that damn salad.

‘Nothing.’ Chosi shrugged, ‘Just that it's typical that somehow I’m the only one to notice when some guy is trying to cop a feel.’

‘He was doing no such thing.’ You had to bite your tongue not to raise your voice as his insinuation, despite being on the waiter's actions, seemed to be brutally judging yourself. ‘The poor guy is just doing his job. I’m not bothered by it, and neither should you be.’ Usually, you would attach some sweet nickname at the end of that sentence, but this was one too many times you had said a variant of the confirmation, and you were growing tired of just the thought of it.

Somewhere in the distance, a table erupted into a shouting match that had to be broken up by a handful of waiters. While usually, you turned away from such brutalities, never having been fond of violence and not particularly having a necessity in seeing people getting their teeth punched out minutes before eating a meal, this time you stretched your neck out to glance across the room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the white-blonde hair among the rousing heads. Someone had pulled a pistol, but the weapon was kicked out of the man's grip before they could shoot or even alarm people enough to hide beneath their tables. Just like that, the restaurant resumed its normal state of pleasantries, and you got back to your abysmal date and hoped it was still worth saving… or that saving was still even an option to begin with.

‘From what you had told me about the place, Chi, it is much grander than I had expected.’ You smiled, and he nodded to your affirmations.

‘Well, I didn’t want to raise the expectations too high, but you know I don’t do anything but the best for you, sweet cheeks.’

‘Of course—’ you were interrupted by the footsteps nearing your table, and the weight nearly lifted off your shoulders at the sight of Sanji carrying too large plates.

‘Hello there,’ he grinned slyly, ‘hope I don’t interrupt anythin’.’

‘Not at all,’ You moved your glass aside to make space for your dish, but Sanji put Chosi’s plate down first, announcing the food.

‘Prime rib, medium rare, for the gentleman.’ Like everything else, he precisely placed it so the gold details on the plate faced the diner exactly right. The roast glistened in the restaurant's dim light, and the smell hit you right at the nerves that reminded you of your hunger. But that was for the gentleman, and the gentleman had ordered for you the—

‘And for the madame,’ Sanji put a plate in front of you, ‘what I like to call the Sanji Special.’

You looked down at your plate of food with a stunned expression and then looked back up. Just in time, you caught the slight wink that your waiter had sent you before stepping back to then, with a nod, say, ‘Bon appetite.’

He got to take about three steps and had just turned his back towards your table when Chosi called out to him, clearing his throat. ‘Ehem, excuse me, Sonny.’

‘Is there a problem?’ Sanji returned with his hands behind his back, but you didn’t need to see his fists to know he was clenching them. It was all visible in the strain of his upper arms and jaw as he restrained himself to keep up a polite smile.

‘I am pretty sure we had ordered a salad?’ Chosi tried to play it off with a casual laugh, but it turned out to be anything but. Sanji leaned forward to grab the plate, but then your boyfriend exclaimed, ‘No, not for me; for her.’ before the waiter got his hand on his prime rib.

With a satisfied smile, Sanji glanced at your plate and stated: ‘That is a salad.’

Not that you did not appreciate what was in front of you, but if it was a salad, it was the loosest interpretation of the definition possible. You had to keep your laugh in as he explained that the dish was a “twist on kensui salad with steamed components, egg, and pork” or, in your simpler terms… the most delicious-looking pot of ramen you had ever encountered in your life, but no, definitely not a salad in the traditional sense. You smiled at the food, not daring to look up at Sanji while your boyfriend’s head seemed to be boiling alive, but the waiter was a step ahead of you.

‘Ah, almost forgot, for the lady,’ almost out of nowhere, he made a pair of chopsticks appear for you.

‘She will not be eating that,’ Chosi grunted.

‘I think that is for her to decide,’ Sanji didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his sweet smile on you, which, in turn, rushed a hot flush over your cheeks.

‘Chosi, don’t be like that; this looks delicious.’ You spoke, hoping he would calm down and let you finally sink your teeth into this gorgeous meal. After a tense second, Chosi finally huffed out and sank back down in his chair, making you realise he had been on the verge of getting up for whatever reason. Either way, his intentions could not have been good. In the meantime, Sanji excused himself once more to finally leave you to eat.

You had perhaps taken half a bite when Chosi, his food untouched, spoke up again. ‘Why do you always do this?’

‘Do what?’ your throat tightened around the pork you had just swallowed.

‘Embarrass me like that?’ He sighed, a vein in his forehead looking more prominent than ever.

‘I didn’t—’

‘Cut the shit, you know what you’re doing.’ Chosi slammed his fist on the table, startling you and the few people sitting at the nearest tables to you.

‘Please, can we not do this now,’ you kept your head down, ignoring all the pairs of eyes that must have started catching on to what was happening. Chosi had turned red from anger by that point.

‘What, am I being too much for you? Imagine what it’s like going out with a slut—’

‘Chosi!’ you snapped, immediately covering your face with your hand as if you had not meant to shout and grab the attention of even more people.

Deep breath in.

Out.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ You hissed at the man across the table from you.

‘With me? You’re the one that has been eyefucking the waiter this whole time, and now you disrespected me like that in front of him? Do I mean so little to you?’

‘I did no such thing.’ You rolled your eyes, catching glimpses of the room you were in. The people that sat around, the employees. Of course, Sanji stood only a few tables away, taking an order. Could he hear what was happening? Most likely, the idea of that burned you in a new, much more unpleasant manner. Chosi must have said something, but you had been too occupied by your surroundings and too tired to even listen to what other vile things he had to tell you. The only thing that kept you at that table was the food, but no matter how good, it wasn’t worth enduring him. ‘You know what,’ you grabbed your napkin and slapped it onto the table, ‘I can’t do this right now. I’ll see you on the boat.’ The chair shrieked as you shoved it back.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going,’ Chosi growled practically, and despite you having already turned your back to him, you heard his own chair scrape the deck floor. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you got ready for what was coming. He reached out, but nothing happened.

You looked over your shoulder to see Sanji pulling Chosi in by the sleeve.

‘Believe me, we don’t wanna do that, mate.’ Sanji said, his eyes filled with a new rage that made you take a step back.

‘Let go of me, you sleaze.’ Chosi suddenly reminded you of a feral kitten, how he tried to wriggle himself out of the waiter’s grip. ‘I’ll make you regret ever touching me. Do you know who I am?’

‘Do I look like I give a shit?’ he let go with a laugh, almost pushing Chosi to the ground. As your date dusted off his sleeves, Sanji took a step forward, pressing himself against him. Now that both men were standing face to face, did you only realise how much taller Sanji was than your boyfriend. How much bigger and, most likely, how much stronger. With a hushed and reserved tone yet somehow full of intimidation, the waiter said, ‘Don’t you ever try to touch or speak to a woman like that again, you hear me? Or I’ll make you regret you were ever born.’

Chosi could only nod with his eyes blown wide open. The restaurant was dead quiet, unable to pull their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them. No one said anything or moved, and yet, somewhere, a stack of plates fell. The crash of porcelain echoed through the space, and Sanji turned his attention toward the kitchen’s double doors for a second. That quick moment was enough for Chosi to find his moment and attack.

Or at least make an attempt at it.

Sanji was still looking toward the kitchen, and Chosi’s fist was in mid-air, but the waiter flawlessly manoeuvred around it, swinging himself back and letting Chosi fall forward. To make matters worse, Sanji supplemented the fall by kicking him over. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend’s chin had smacked against the table, you would have missed the entire thing, as Sanji’s movements were so elegant that it seemed as if he had not moved at all. He might as well have been refilling your water, ignorant of the groaning mess of a man he had kicked down to the ground with such ease.

Chosi got up shakily. A nasty cut was already dripping blood from the underside of his face, but the redness didn’t compare to the rage on his face. He looked around until his eyes caught yours. ‘What, you’re just gonna stand there like some dumb–’

‘What did I just say?’ Sanji said, this time much louder, not trying to hide the row from the rest of the diners. But before he could make another move, Chosi reached for the nearest thing he could reach, which in his case was your dish of ramen, and threw a fistful of noodles Sanji’s way, hitting him square in the chest.

Silence.

He must have been too stunned at the audacious strike to move out of the way for it. Everyone must have been watching the noodles unstick from his navy jacket and slowly fall to the ground, then watched as Sanji raised his head back up, his expression unamused and cold, but his eyes filled with a passionate and furious fire. One that was enough to live up to the promise he had made the man you had come to the restaurant with. And so, just like that, without another word needing to be said by anyone, you watched Chosi back away—one, two, three steps, whimpering and mumbling some comments that could almost make up an apology, before he sprinted up the stairs to the exit.

‘Ridiculous,’ you heard Sanji mutter under his breath. ‘Fucking waste of food.’

Before you could think any better about it, you walked up and knelt down, as he did, to reach for the spilt noodles. ‘I am so sorry,’ you started apologising. ‘I swear normally he–’

‘Is exactly like that,’ Sanji chuckled with a rasp. You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded. He had managed to scoop most of the food before you had and was already getting up. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ One of his colleagues had been quick with bringing over cleaning supplies. ‘If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Let me make it up to you—a drink in the bar, on the house.’

‘No, that is really not necessary.’ You couldn’t accept anything for free after your boyfriend pulled off such a scene and… had run off without paying. The realisation hit you like a brick on the head as you cursed under your breath with a strong sense of panic, which Sanji caught on to immediately.

‘Please,’ He reached gently for your arm. ‘I insist.’

You stuttered for a moment before actually answering in defeated agreement. With a satisfied smile, Sanji led you to another exit, leading to the bar deck. ‘Right this way, madame.’

The bar deck, located in the mouth of that giant fish head, was moderately empty. Except for you and the appointed barman behind the counter, only a handful of others were sprinkled across the couches and futons. You chose a seat overlooking the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sky and waters an array of warm colours.

You understood that you had to go up to the bar to order, but you felt no particular need for it, just enjoying the breeze that brought over the calm sea air towards you.

It was unclear how much time you spent sitting out there, looking at the waves splashing by and the clouds above you and the people around you. Only once the sun had set entirely, darkening the sky completely, and most people had left the area, you decide to finally walk up to the bartender and place an order. The man nodded and proceeded to make your drink with only a few attached flourishes to the craft, but the result was charming and tasted delicious.

‘I hope I had made it clear that that was one drink on the house,’ you heard from behind you.

‘Don’t worry, this is my first.’ You said, turning around to see Sanji standing behind you.

‘You might just be the slowest drinker I have ever met,’ he said as he took the spot by your side.

‘Jeez, do your manners flush away the second you’re off the clock?’ You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, most likely also proving Sanji his point as the sip you took was particularly small.

‘For what it’s worth, madame, I was about to tell you that your bill has been taken care of.’ He leaned against the bar countertop with his forearms. ‘But I will make myself scarce now.’

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could push himself back. ‘What do you mean it was– I would have happily paid. At least let me leave a tip.’ You were ready to pull out your purse when he took his turn to halt your movements.

‘I will not be accepting any tips for my service today. And honestly, you barely had a meal to eat, let alone to pay for. It is all taken care of. I promise.’

You looked up at him apprehensively, but something about his–not necessarily laidback–but how he was so comfortable with the situation put you at ease, too. But something was gnawing at your conscience.

‘Alright then, but I disagree with the review of your service. You most certainly need something for it in return.’ How could you repay the man who had just gotten you out of your horrific relationship? You doubted anything in the world could match your actual gratefulness. Although, maybe the smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips said something different.

‘Let me cook for you.��

‘What?’ You blinked slowly, making him smile even wider.

‘You haven’t eaten anything proper in hours. Let me make you something in the kitchen–an exclusive guest experience.’

‘That doesn’t sound much like a gratuity for you.’ You pointed out, but he did not seem to mind.

‘Indulge me,’ was all he responded with. Feeling giddy at the prospect, you glanced over at the bartender, who was definitely listening in on the conversation. Understanding what you meant with your look, he simply shrugged while wiping the glasses.

‘Ok then.’ This entire thing felt utterly ridiculous, and you didn’t hide the amusement you felt from it as Sanji opened the door to the kitchen for you. That is when your smile lightly faltered, only to be replaced with a fallen jaw as you looked around in amazement. Like the dining area, this room had a high ceiling but wasn’t decorated as much as simply visually enhanced by all the bronze pots and pans hanging around, and the pipes leading from the ovens and stoves up to the chimneys. There were long lines of prep stations, behind which one Sanji comfortably made himself at home as he immediately got started on something.

The first few minutes, after you watched him exchange his suit jacket for a white chef’s uniform, you were occupied with the kitchen itself, but once you had gotten used to the environment, you wondered where you could make yourself equally comfortable as not a nuisance to him as he cooked.

‘Make yourself at home, sweetheart,’ he said while chopping some ingredients at a speed that made your heart skip a beat in fear. Or did that come from the new nickname that caught you by surprise?

‘What happened to “madame”?’ you walked closer to his station. Sanji just looked up briefly, eye covered by his hair but his smile evermore present. Your smile lasted longer as you forgot you had meant to look at what he was doing, not to stare at him. Noticing he was not planning on answering your question, you asked another. ‘So, what exactly are you making?’

‘Since I’m sure dinner did not turn out entirely as you had planned, I thought maybe dessert would be a good pick-me-up. Rose and chocolate meringue tartes, how does that sound?’

‘Makes me wonder what I did to deserve it,’ you laugh it off while speaking the question that had been on your mind this whole time.

‘I like to show a lady how she’s meant to be treated,’ he said as he poured several ingredients into a glass bowl and began wicking at a pace that should have stopped him from looking so effortless long ago. ‘It’s all part of the special package deal.’

‘Right, the Sanji Special, was it?’ You looked around at the countertop next to him, which seemed free from ingredients and anything you could set on fire. You glanced his way, and he swiftly nodded your way. With that permission in mind, you pushed yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs lightly back and forth. ‘So what exactly does this special indicate?’

‘A nice meal, a little surprise, a few kind words, nothing too crazy. I would like to think that, with it, I have perfected the recipe on how to eliminate shitbag boyfriends like that prince charming you came here with.’

‘My knight in shining armour.’ You rolled your eyes, hiding how much you appreciated all his actions from that day. ‘Must have worked on quite a few girls then?’

‘Can’t say it has,’ he said as he pushed the oven open to prebake a few tartelette frames. The speed at which he worked truly was otherworldly.

‘Can’t because of a bad success rate or because you hadn’t actually tried it before?’

He appeared next to you from beside the oven; tiny droplets of sweat were forming at his temple, but his energy was still burning like the fire under the pot where he was melting the chocolate. ‘Let's say the latter. For both our dignity’s sake.’ It did not come as a surprise to you that he was a flirt and most likely tried these tricks out on the entirety of the female clientele, and yet, for reasons unknown, you did not mind one bit, and it still did not seize to make the smallest of his advances work on you with tremendous effect.

‘Don’t think I have much more of that left after everything that happened out there.’ You cringed at the memory of the shouting, the mess, and just how many people had been sitting there watching you.

‘There’s been much worse out there, believe me.’ Sanji lowered the fire under the pan lightly.

‘I hardly believe that. He threw noodles at you. That is absolutely revolting behaviour.’ And somehow, you managed not to get kicked out of the restaurant along with Chosi but even got to hang out in the kitchen after hours as a special dessert was being prepared for you… by the waiter that your boyfriend had tried to assault— no, that your ex-boyfriend tried to assault. That felt much better, but still didn’t let the whole situation make any more sense.

‘And that wouldn’t even make the top ten of shit that’s happened around this place.’

‘I… am not sure wether to be relieved or disappointed.’ For an inexplicable reason, you thought you would be more memorable to him. However, would you have wanted that, seeing the actual circumstances under which that would be? Ugh.

As if he could read your mind, Sanji added in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on forgetting you anytime soon.’

‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ You rolled your eyes, to which he just smiled. ‘But really, I am sorry for what happened—especially to your suit.’

‘I care more about the noodles, honestly, don’t like seeing food go to waste—’ he drifted off with his thoughts before coming back up to the surface with another question, ‘speaking of noodles, where’d you meet this guy anyway?’

‘It’s complicated,’ you sighed, not wanting to burden him with your story, but from the eager attitude he was conveying as he managed his ingredients, he did not hold the same sentiment over it. ‘We had been friends for ages—out dads worked together—and it seemed, to everyone, apparently, like the natural progression of events that we would end up together.’

‘Everyone… except for you?’ he assumed, looking up at you from the counter space.

‘No, I mean, at first I thought so too, but over time… well, you saw it yourself. But by the time I had realised what a mess I had gotten myself into, it felt like I was already too late.’

‘How so?’ You heard the gentleness in his question like he was treading the topic lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on it or on you to answer.

‘Heard people talking he had been planning to propose.’ You shrugged it off. ‘But I doubt that will be happening anymore.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ The question came with that same carefulness but perhaps a bit more intrigue. You simply shrugged again.

‘Will probably have to find another ship to get back home on, as I can’t imagine he would want me on board with him.’ It was crazy you had not bothered to check but assumed that he had already taken off hours ago, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. ‘And then, if I see him again… well, not much else I can do but officially dump his ass.’

‘So I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did?’ He stopped what he was doing as he waited for an answer.

‘Absolutely not. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.’

The both of you shared sheepish smiles before you watched him work silently for a few more minutes. The tarte frames came out of the oven in a beautifully crisp golden tone, and he mixed the chocolate into a thick mousse while the rosy syrup lay back to cool off. While the two of you remained quiet, the kitchen was anything but that as his utensils clinked around the pans. You thought back to a few hours ago and how the silence at your table had been anything but this. You had sat in a cold dread, waiting for something to snap until it inevitably did. However, you sat back comfortably here, happily watching as Sanji focused on his work.

It really was his element. While you thought the man had been exemplary at waiting tables, it was nothing compared to the ease at which he performed here. Each move he made seemed like second nature to him.

‘Do all the waiters here know how to cook like this?’ you inquired, leaning in to see how he filled the pastries up, hands in a tight grip on the piping bag.

‘The ones that are cooks do,’ he chuckled.

‘You’re a cook?’ you blinked, ‘then what were you doing out there earlier?’

‘Ah, the old shitbag that runs this place likes to torture me and send me off to do the waitin’.’ He readjusted his hold on the piping bag, briefly stopping to wipe his hand on the towel tucked between his belt.

‘Doesn’t that bother you? I’m sure you’d much rather work here.’ You certainly would. Some people could be real assholes to serve… your former date being a prime example. But Sanji simply laughed it off.

‘Nah, not when beautiful women are out there waiting to be served.’ He stopped to look up at you with a shit-eating grin, and the unseriousness dripping off of it made you blush, smile along with him and push him back by his shoulder before you would do something else much more irrational. Perhaps a bit too hard, as he lost his balance, only finding it on the counter, exactly where the piping bag had been left behind. His palm fell right over the ending, bursting out the mousse in an unfortunate mess, spilling all over him and the counter.

‘Oh no,’ you said, covering your mouth but not the giggles from it, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You think it’s funny, don’t you?’ He couldn’t keep his smile, but you shook your head harshly. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he pointed his hand, covered in chocolate, at you. Several thoughts ran through your mind initially, but you managed to suppress most of them, opting for simply running your finger over the back of his hand where most of the mousse had spilt and giving it a taste.

‘That is really good.’ you hummed at the sweetness. Sanji stood back, somewhat frozen at what you had done, but quickly thawed out with a few blinks.

‘Well, what else did you expect?’ He wiped the rest of his hand on the towel at his side, ‘and I’ll have you know it’s rude to eat the food before it’s done. Takes away from the experience.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you pouted, ‘but I promise you I am still very much enjoying this whole experience.’

‘You better.’ Sanji said, taking the baking tray and putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes. With the oven door shut, he sighed and leaned against the counter opposite you. ‘Now we wait.’

‘How long exactly?’

‘In a rush, are we?’ He glanced at you from behind his hair, and the question made you heat up in the face. Because how could you explain to this practical stranger that you were feeling the opposite of what he insinuated. That you did not want this night to end at all. That being here with him, even if you were just waiting for a damn tart to bake, you were having more fun than you had had in weeks, if not longer. So, all you did was simply shake your head again.

‘It will be just a few minutes, and then gotta let it cool for a bit.’ He reassured you. That is when you noticed the bowl he had mixed the mousse in, mostly scraped clean while filling up the piping bag, but even the best chef can’t always scrape every last ounce out. Now, you might not have had any particular urge to leave any time soon, but you certainly were hungry, and having tasted just how delicious Sanji’s food was, you couldn’t help but lean in to get another little taste.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said, bemused, reaching to stop you from taking another swipe of mousse onto your finger. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, but he had been too late. When he caught you, you had your hand directly over your lips, looking up at him. He glared down at you in a daring manner.

You licked the chocolate off yourself as innocently as possible without bursting into laughter.

‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ He took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The presence of his body, so close to yours, almost touching, reverberated off of you with warmth, and suddenly, you felt the breath you had taken to be stuck in the back of your throat. ‘Did you not listen to anything I just said?’ His breath was hot against your skin, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was a direct source of the skip in your heart.

‘Of course I did.’ You ignored the fast beating of your heart and the feeling like it might just burst out of your chest as you took him by the arm to give you some space and let you slide down the counter back onto your feet. ‘Something about experience and…’ you slid out from between him and the counter, and as you did so, swooped by the bowl of mousse with your finger one last time. ‘I forgot what else.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ Sanji reached for your hand, but you were quicker and manoeuvred around him and from his arm’s reach. Taunting him with the mousse, you walked around the work counters, and he, happily playing along, followed suit.

Like children, you ran around the kitchen, with him not far behind you, trying to catch you until he finally did, picking you up by the waist. Unintentionally, a squeak of a shriek came out of you, followed by both your laughs. You kept on laughing until you heard something outside the door. Heavy footsteps, freezing you both in your place until they moved on by. That is when you noted the time. Hours past midnight.

‘Are we even allowed to be in here at this time?’ You whispered as if the person who had walked by would suddenly be able to hear you.

‘Of course,’ Sanji said with confidence, but his expression juxtaposed this with signs that you could only read as “absolutely fucking not.” chances were that if you were caught in the kitchen at this time of night, you would be shot on the spot by, what did Sanji call him, the old shitbag.

But before you could run away in fear of getting caught, it was Sanji’s turn to take you by surprise. As you stood in his arms, he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around your finger, sucking all the chocolate right off. You could feel his tongue move down your knuckles and back up until he released it, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed.

‘I thought it’s rude to eat a dish before it’s done,’ you managed to sputter out.

‘So you did listen,’ he smiled, ‘but you might want to know that a good cook always tastes their dishes in the process, and that… was delicious.’

‘Are you always this humble about your cooking?’ Your heart was basically in your throat at this moment.

‘Wasn’t talking about the food,’ his tone was deep, sultry, as he leaned closer. ‘But care to give me another taste?’

Your breath was officially hitched in your throat, unable to breathe properly, as you stared at him, body flooding with heat and need for him. As words escaped you, you nodded lightly and leaned in as he did the same, meeting your lips in the middle with a kiss.

As soon as it happened, his arms found their spot on your side as you fastened yourself on his shoulders. It was nothing like you expected it to be. For a man spending his entire nights and days in the kitchen, he felt nothing like it. You could smell the cologne, taste the cigarettes and the fresh mint he used to conceal the former. His tender but firm touch held you in your place as he pressed closer.

There was a force to it, but nothing that you didn’t feel in yourself to copy as the need for him boiled deep inside you.

Your hand moved slowly up to his cheek, over to his hair at the nape of his neck.

One of his hands, in the meantime, had found your thigh, pulling it up over his leg as he squeezed your soft flesh, but before giving you a chance to even react to this new position and all its implications, Sanji moved.

Pulling apart, leaving your lips to be the last piece he detached from as he kept your bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he apologised, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ because while you might have forgotten all about the world around you, he had still been keeping track of the tartelettes that were baking down in the oven.

He pulled the tray of pastries out with a white tea towel, practically throwing it down on the counter, discarding it with a metal clang.

‘Now we wait for them to cool,’ he explained as he got back to you.

‘And what were you planning on doing in the meantime,’ you pulled him back in by the blue ascot tie.

With his lips ghosting over yours, he half-whispered, ‘I might have a few things in mind,’ and with it, kissed you again. While the kiss itself was not much different, with that same intensity and passion running through both of you as before, now you were very much aware of what was to follow. If it wasn’t your need that spurred you on, then it was Sanji and his eagerness. Despite his chef’s uniform and the navy apron, you could feel him grow harder against you as the kiss continued. A moan escaped you as his lips travelled down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses one by one until he reached a spot that was more sensitive than others. The simple touch sparked a fuse inside you.

As he continued playing with your sensitive skin, he led both your bodies to one of the empty tables at the side of the room, pressing you right against the edge and locking you in between it and him.

Without needing him to say a word, you understood exactly what you needed to do and climbed on top of the table, spreading your legs to make space for him right in the middle.

Your dress might have hiked up slightly over your thighs, but it wasn’t enough for Sanji, who took it upon himself to pull it up.

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying’,’ he smiled as he kissed the corner of your mouth and as his hand reached the top of your leg, ‘but I had been thinkin' about this ever since I saw you.’

‘Me too,’ you exhaled deeply, letting the confession sink in. Maybe Chosi was right after all. Now, with him out of the picture, you could admit that something had been there from the start, from the moment you caught a glimpse of the waiter cook. And if it wasn’t for all the shit that occurred that day, maybe you would have felt a twinge of guilt as you guided Sanji’s hand between your legs. If you had not shut that chapter behind you, perhaps you would have felt bad, but any insecurities of that disappeared as Sanji began to toy with your core. His slender fingers grazed slowly over your slit, putting enough pressure on it to make you arch your back in need of more.

‘Already so needy,’ he smirked. ‘And I barely touched you.’

‘Touch me then,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ His fingers moved up in pace and barely went any deeper, keeping you on the edge of satisfaction. ‘And what would madame like me to do?’ He threaded his movements, and you were growing impatient with the teasing.

‘Fuck me,’ ready to hear his next question, you added, ‘I don’t care how.’

His grin only grew wider at your words. Much to your dislike, he pulled his hand away to place both at your thighs, pressing his fingers into your skin and using that as leverage to make more space for himself in between.

‘As madame wishes.’ He spoke softly right below your ear as he descended onto his knees.

The kiss he left over your panties already invoked a tremble through your entire body, and it only got worse from there, in the best sense. He pushed your underwear aside and took his time giving you all his attention and care. Kissing your core deeply until his nose pressed up against you. His tongue licked up your juices like a starving man until your eyes rolled back, and you felt weak.

The table you were perched on was empty, so you only had Sanji to hold on to. At first, you reached for his shoulder, but it was just not high enough for you to find support. As you tried to look for it, Sanji reached for your hand and brought it up to the side of his head for you to tangle your fingers in his light locks. Before you even managed to grab onto them, simply letting your nails trace over his hair, you felt the vibrations of his moans strike you. Another deep blow to your senses pulled you further down to the edge. Closer and closer until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your grip on his hair tightened as your breath grew sporadic.

‘Fuck, fuck,’ you moaned, voice filled with desperation for a release, and one that Sanji would be more than pleased to give you… just not quite yet. As he pulled away from you, you deflated with the feeling of a ruined climax and the urge to pull him back to finish what he had started, but all you could do was whimper in protest.

‘Don’t worry,’ he kissed your knee softly, ‘all in good time. I promise to take good care of you,’ and with that, he rose back up to his feet, untying his apron.

‘That was good,’ your chest still moving up and down heavily as you caught your breath. ‘Really good.’

‘It pleases me to hear that,’ he said as he threw the apron aside onto the ground. ‘And believe me, I would love to go back for seconds—’

‘Does all your pillow talk stem from restaurant jargon?’ you interrupted jokingly.

‘You laugh, and yet you’re the one begging me to fuck you.’ God, he was so cocky, with the way he stood there in front of you, his head tilted sideways, and his lip turned up in a grin that told you he knew he was right. ‘So, please, let me.’ His hand was already on his belt buckle.

There was no time or need for either of you to undress. With your dress hiked up to your hips, he already had easy enough access, and once his belt was loose, it only took a few sharp pulls for you to release him from the material restraints.

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘For the love of god,’ grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him in, ‘stop talking and just take me.’ You knew he was about to respond, but before he got the chance to make another absurdly silly but nonetheless flirtatious comment, you shit him up with a kiss. Just like that, the two of you melted into one another. Sanji made himself comfortable between you and let his lips wander down to your neck again, to that one spot he found that drove you crazy.

He kept kissing your neck as he finally slid into you. The two feelings made your body go weak, melting you into a puddle of burning nerves as he spread your walls and filled you up perfectly.

First, he moved slowly, but with each thrust, he sped up more and more, putting more force into it until you were both shaking with ferocity, and the table underneath you scratched over the planks it stood upon. The sound of the tortured floor was the only thing covering up both your moans and that of the messy skin-to-skin contact.

While he practically pounded into you, you reached for his hair again. There was just something about it: how messy you managed to make it with a few tugs and brushstrokes. All of it, how he acted and reacted, it was all in response to you. Just how he made you see stars with each move he made.

‘Feels so good, fuck,’ he groaned over your shoulder as you grabbed for his, pulling him closer if possible. He had your legs pressed against his sides. He shook his head quickly, letting the hair flick out of his sight, but the attempt was poor as the lock quickly fell back over his eye despite his efforts.

‘San–’ you moaned, ‘Sanji–’

‘That’s right,’ he might as well have been kissing you, so close were his lips to you, but instead, the only thing you truly felt was his hot breath on your skin as he kept going deeper and harder. ‘Gonna come for me? His voice got even deeper the longer he kept going. At the sound of it, your nails dug into his back, his striped shirt being the only thing saving him from possibly some nasty scratches, but it seemed to only spur him on more. ‘I–’ you gasped out as you felt him hit the deepest part of you.

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m close, fuck.’ the pit in your stomach tightened, your muscles strained as you tried to hold on to that feeling of pleasure he brought over you. The tension built up like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment; he had you in his grip, waiting to let go of you at the exact right time. All you needed was that touch, just the right one in the right spot.

You could feel it all. Could feel just how close he was himself as his thrusts got sloppier, and his breathing grew heavier and rougher between his words. ‘Yeah, c’mon. I know you can do it. Come all over my cock. ‘’s gonna feel so good, I promise you.’

The encouragement might not have been necessarily what did it. It was more like a concoction of things that all led to this precise moment when ecstasy overtook your body and washed over you like a hot flash. Sanji was not far behind you, riding his high as he ensured you got to yours. His movements slowed down as you felt the cum slick down your thighs. While you both caught your breath, it became quiet once more.

It took you a bit longer to catch up on air in your lungs, and so while you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you heard Sanji zip his trousers back up and lightly walk across the aisle between the workstations. When you opened your eyes again, he was making his way back to you already, a handful of paper towels in his hand.

Despite the burn you already felt in your sore muscles, you spread your legs one last time to give him access to clean you up. His soft touches to your sensitive core now were in stark contrast to what he had been doing to you moments ago, but the cold of the damp towel brought a nice sense of comfort.

‘You think you can stand up for me?’ he asked gently, and the little words in that tone were enough to make your heart flutter.

‘Yeah, I think so.’ You said, but that was quickly proven wrong when your knees buckled almost immediately when your feet touched the ground. It was only because of the way that Sanji held your arm that you had not completely toppled over.

‘Woah, alright.’ He smiled, never letting go of you, ‘How about we just sit for now.’ Slowly, he guided you to sit on the ground, back against a cabinet. ‘Water?’

You nodded in agreement. The question had made you realise just how parched you were.

‘Still, sparkling, mineral?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said through a tired smile at the reference to how he waited on you earlier, but moments later, you reminded yourself of your preference, ‘just not sparkling! It just tastes foul.’

‘Anything but sparkling water, coming right up.’ He moved around the room to pour you some surprise water, and while he did so, you pressed your face into your hands, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been walking up the deck, arm in arm, with your good-for-nothing boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance. Now you sat on the ground of a restaurant kitchen, with no idea where said–now ex–-boyfriend was in the world, coming down from one of the best orgasms you had ever received… all by the hand of a stranger. A handsome stranger at that. One that you could imagine seeing much more of in the future, but it was all just too silly.

And you were tired. And hungry.

‘Voila,’ Sanji appeared in front of you with impeccable timing, a large ice-cold looking glass in one hand, filled with ice cubes and cucumber, and two plates in the other hand. The rose and chocolate meringue tartes look particularly inviting. ‘Thought you might finally want to try one,’ he said as he handed you a plate and fork.

‘I swear, you’re a godsend.’ No matter in how much need you were of a drink, the sight of the dessert made your mouth water.

‘Ah, just a little something sweet for—’

‘If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I will shove this tarte in your face.’ One could only endure so much of this sappy flirting, even if you found it very endearing. Sanji shut his mouth and sat beside you, poking his fork into his portion.

The two of you ate quickly but still took enough time to appreciate the flavours that oozed out of the pastry and its filling. The moan you made as it all reached your tastebuds might have been more pornographic than any sound you made while he had been deep inside you.

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ you said through another bite. The praise brought a huge smile to the cook’s lips. ‘Seriously, thank you. For everything.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ he spoke in a way that almost made you think he was getting shy on you. That felt unlikely, but you let him process it all for a moment as you kept eating.

Only once you had eaten everything off your plate did you ask your next question of the evening. ‘How did you know I would like this?’

‘It’s a chef’s best trait,’ he pulled the fork out of his mouth with a pop, ‘to be able to read their customers well. To be able to tell what they like or dislike; to know them better than they know themselves.’

‘But how?’ With intrigue, you moved closer to him. He had been leaning against the same cupboard as you, one of his knees raised up and an arm hanging casually over it. His hair was still messy, falling over his eye. ‘How could you tell I would enjoy this specific dish?’

The one unobstructed eye fell over you, looking up and down over your body as his mischievous smile reappeared. ‘It felt fitting.’

‘How so?’ You blinked, confused as to what he meant.

‘Sweet, decadent and hot; what’s there not to like? I mean—’ he leaned in over his arm to kiss you, feather-light. Then, he hummed as he pulled back. ‘It is an absolutely divine combination.’

Your cheeks burned up for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and you could not dare keep looking at him as he stared down at you with that innate hunger. That kind that could only be filled with one thing, and it just so happened to have wholly exhausted you.

‘Is this still all part of that special of yours?’

To this, Sanji shrugged, ‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On how long you want to keep me around.’ He scraped some leftover mousse from his plate, licking it off his fork.

‘I think for a while,’ you admitted. Yeah, you definitely hadn’t had enough of him yet.

‘Well, then there’s so much more I can do for you, madame.’

the end

thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and commenting-either through the comments, in a reblog or through my inbox <3 to hear your thoughts on my writing means the world to me and really is a huge help in motivation to keep going.

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hannieehaee · 1 month

Text

LIKE YOU DO

18+ / mdi

summary: when your brother's best friend suddenly reveals his newfound crush on you, you find yourself at a crossroads, thinking back to your own unrequited crush on him from back in middle school, making you wonder if you should be the better person and give him a chance.

content: brother'sbestfriend!seungcheol, frienemies-ish to lovers, reader is jeonghan's adoptive sister of his same age, mentions of previous unrequited crush, lots of unserious banter, afab reader, they're both inexperienced, smut, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 7.8k

a/n: this one was kinda short sorry T-T i rlly enjoyed the concept though so it was fun to write! hope u guys enjoy!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Jeonghan?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does Seungcheol keep showing up during my breaks to bring me coffee?"

"Oh. He's trying to break you down so he can ask you out," He responded in the most nonchalant way possible.

"What? Since when does Seungcheol even like me?"

"Are you kidding? he's had a huge crush on you since we were seventeen."

"Dude, what? Where the hell was that attitude back in middle school when I was following him around like a fucking loser?", you grumbled at the memory of your former unrequited crush.

It was pathetic to think about, but it was true. You had sadly had a tendency to follow your brother and his friend around during the majority of your tweens and teens, always carrying the false hope that Seungcheol would one day look your way. As expected, he never even so much as glanced at you during that period of your life.

It's not like you could blame him. You were just a few years behind the rest of the herd when it came to puberty, you were still donning braces and also had a less than favorable sense of style. By all means, you were a bit of a loser up until turning 16. However, it was still sad to know that the guy of your dreams simply saw you as a nuance he had to deal with in exchange for being able to hang out with your brother.

Except that had been well over two years ago (give or take). By the time you were 16 and a junior in high school, you were confidently over your crush. You had stopped following him around by the time you entered the second half of your teens, but your crush would still occasionally show remnants of itself any time he was around (which was often, as he and Jeonghan were practically attached to the hip). However, it was far more lowkey than before and eventually died down altogether. You were long past those awkward years of tweenhood and now had a developed sense of style, along with an air of confidence you now carried with you. Puberty hit you all at once and your entire persona changed along with it. You had an established group of friends and were even a bit popular, no longer needing to hang around Jeonghan and Seungcheol just for a glimpse of the boy's attention. By the time you were 16, you were over Choi Seungcheol.

This carried over to the last two years of high school, now with a completely different dynamic between you and your former crush. Despite attending the same grades at the same time, you did not belong to the same social circles, so you would not see each other too often. However, since your brother (and brother's best friend) continued to attend the same school as you those last two years of high school, you still bumped into Cheol from time to time, specially whenever Jeonghan would bring him over.

Over the years, Seungcheol came to see you as less of a nuance and more of a friend. After turning 16 (upon your glow up and the dissipation of your crush), he would engage in casual conversation with you. He would even seek you out on his own at times, though you were never too enthusiastic about these meetings. Middle school you would've been elated at such development, but you didn't think much of it after having gotten over your crush, now bitter over how it had all played out so fruitlessly for you.

After having gotten over your crush, you came to resent Seungcheol a bit, now realizing the way he used to sometimes take advantage of your crush to get you to be his lackey and how he would even make you the butt of jokes among his friend group (whenever your brother wasn't around, of course). During the years in which you were infatuated with him, you truly believed it was just some sort of inside joke between the two of you; a 'will they, won't they' type of dynamic. However, upon leaving that childish phase of your life, you began to look back at it in embarrassment. After that, you distanced yourself from him. During ages 16 and up, you would even come to avoid him, something which Jeonghan thankfully never commented on despite having also been aware of your former crush.

And now. Now you were being made privy to the fact that Seungcheol had apparently begun to return your crush only a little over a year after you got over yours. At seventeen, Jeonghan said. That's the year you like to believe you truly got your act together. After your glow up at 16 years of age (appearance and personality-wise), you began to engage in new hobbies, new friend groups, and overall went through a full transformation of your former loser self (or at least that's how Seungcheol had made you feel all those years). You had put all relationship related interests aside since your catastrophic crush on Seungcheol left you high and dry. After graduating, you even left the country for a few months, deciding to start college a semester after your brother to explore the world a bit in order to find yourself before starting school back up again.

That period of time proved very useful to you. You mingled in the arts of casual dating in your absence (something which you had never done thanks to your irremovable crush), made friends, took up new interests, and most of all, grew out of any remnants of your former feelings for Seungcheol.

Except that all came crumbling down the moment you came back, suitcase in hand, and found Seungcheol at the door of your brother's apartment upon your arrival for your move-in day with your brother, which now seemed to include Seungcheol in the equation.

You had been less than elated when your brother suddenly informed you that instead of solely moving in with him in order to begin attending his university, you would now be sharing the apartment with an unwanted guest – Seungcheol. This had been the first time you saw him again after graduating, which had also been your last day to see anyone for the past six months over the duration of your trip.

Since your brother had begun attending school while you took a sabbatical from education, he had found himself an apartment so you would have a place to move into upon your return. The agreement had been for the two of you to be the sole habitants, until Seungcheol suddenly decided to attend the same university as you and your brother, promptly moving in with Jeonghan in your absence. It seemed like that had been the original plan, one which died when Seungcheol simply decided to stay, moving his things out what was supposed to be your room and moving them into what then became a shared room between him and Jeonghan.

This was when you first began to have suspicions about Seungcheol.

Although your crush had died down about two years back, you still felt awkward in his presence. His existence was a constant reminder of his consistent rejection of your feelings, something which had not helped your confidence much in the past. But it now seemed like Seungcheol had been the one seeking you out more than the other way around. Even back when you were saying your goodbyes before leaving on your vacation, Seungcheol had seemed even more disappointed at your prolonged absence than your own brother. You hadn't thought much of it at the time, except that this behavior kept up as the two of you became roommates.

Seungcheol would now walk you to class whenever possible, even when it meant going out of his way. He would lend you notes from the classes he had taken the prior semester; ones which you were currently having to take. He would show up between your classes with either drink or food in hand. He'd stop by your workplace at the school's cafe whenever he had down time. He'd stare down any guy that would try and interact with you in any of these instances. You were completely casual about it, trying to not read too much into it, but the worst thing about it all was that you liked it. You liked the attention he was finally giving you.

Though you were suspicious about Seungcheol's intentions, you had never considered the possibility of Seungcheol actually liking you romantically until your brother had so casually informed you just now. Even through your immediate complaint about it, your heart sped up at the thought. Your mind went back to every single memory of your own crush on him, thinking back to every single thing you used to like about him. Up until the moment in which Jeonghan called your attention once more, having answered your question but receiving no response from you due to the extended internal monologue you had gone through due to the sudden revelation.

"Sorry, what did you say?", you finally responded.

He chuckled at your absent-mindedness, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. "I said that your crush was just puppy love. He can't help that he didn't return your feelings at the time. It's been like what, three years since you got over him? Are you really still mad about it?", replied Jeonghan as he nudged you to eat the muffin he had bought you over twenty minutes ago.

Puppy love? It sure didn't feel like it during all those years in which you pined over him. But maybe Jeonghan was right. Maybe it had simply been interpreted as a harmless crush by both Seungcheol and Jeonghan. Except this did not justify every single remembrance of Seungcheol's constant dismissal and mockery of your feelings through the years, only ever looking your way once you were finally over him.

You took a deep breath, deciding to try and be rational in your response, "He mocked me over my crush for years, Jeonghan. He made me the butt of every joke and took advantage of how into him I was for his own entertainment. He only ever started respecting me when I changed my appearance and personality completely. Why should I even consider giving him a chance?"

"Hey, I'm not telling you to do that. Just keep an open mind, okay? We were kids. I'm sure he meant it all in good fun. You know he can be kind of an idiot at times," he took a pinch of the untouched muffin in front of you, "Is there no part of you that maybe still likes him?"

"Did you come to my workplace to harass me into dating your best friend?", you snatched the muffin away – the muffin he had 'bought' despite getting a discount due to your position as a barista, "I'm not the same loser I was in middle school, I have options."

"Oh, yeah?", he smirked, "Then how come you've never had a boyfriend?"

"I'm only 19, it's not like I've dedicated my entire life to celibacy. If I wanted one I could get one. Easy," you argued, "Are you gonna leave any time soon? I need to get back to work," you began to gather his and your cup to head back to your work duties.

"There's literally no one here," he whined, "And stop dodging my questions. Do you like him? Do you want a relationship or not?", he pushed, "I'm your brother, you're supposed to trust me with this type of stuff."

"Adoptive brother," you corrected as you wiped the table Jeonghan was still sitting at.

"Don't say that. I hate it when you say that," he whined.

"You know what? You're right," you decided, halting your movements.

"I am?"

"Yeah. I should get a boyfriend."

"Oh. You mean someone who isn't Seungcheol, don't you?", he sighed.

"Of course. I'm not just gonna come crawling back to him just because he decided he likes me now. And you're right. Now that I'm over my crush and I'm back home, I should get a boyfriend. Maybe that'll get Cheol off of me," you declared.

"So it is about Cheol then."

"Jeonghan, shut up!"

Things changed for you after that conversation. Or at least the way you looked at Seungcheol shifted.

While you had questioned why he would suddenly begin showing up as frequently as he did, showing genuine interest in your company, you had not once entertained the thought of him liking you. Jeonghan informing you of his crush in such a nonchalant way also made you realize that Seungcheol had been quite obvious about his sudden liking to you, always becoming standoffish when other guys were around and even carrying your backpack for you.

The thought of him liking you pleased you. Even if you wanted to be in denial about it, your crush finally being reciprocated was something you had given hope on back when you were about 15. However, knowing that Seungcheol only started seeing you in a non platonic way after your feelings had finally dissipated also annoyed you beyond belief. How was it fair? He got to tease you and treat you as if you were nothing but a nuance for years, only to turn around a few years later and decide he wanted you? You weren't about to stand for it.

You meant it when you told Jeonghan that you would consider entering the dating scene.

For years, you hoped Seungcheol would eventually like you back, so you never even as much as looked in anyone else's way. When you got over your crush, your pride was too wounded to even think about romance. The only exception had been during your trip overseas, where you dated boys here and there, but it was never anything that lasted over a few weeks. Now was finally the time to begin dating.

Okay, granted. Maybe part of you was doing this just to give Seungcheol a taste of his own medicine, but that part didn't matter too much. You decided you'd just disregard his crush just like he did yours; drinking in all the extra attention but never doing anything about it

"Hey, wait up!"

You slowed down without looking back, able to recognize that voice even in your sleep.

"Forget about me? I always walk you to your next class," he chuckled, breathless, "Uh, here. Got you your favorite," he said as he handed you a beverage of your choice.

"Thanks, Cheol," you replied, disinterested as usual.

Even before knowing about his intentions, you had kept a very clear emotional distance from Seungcheol for the past couple of years. You were sure he was aware that your crush had died down years ago, now leaving you completely indifferent towards him, but he never once brought it up. The most reaction you could gauge out of him was the way he deflated a bit every time you spoke to him and failed to show the same enthusiasm you once did.

"So, any plans this weekend?"

"Oh, yeah. Going on a date," you said nonchalantly.

This made him stop in his tracks, causing you to have to slow down your walking once again to turn back and look at him in feigned interest.

"A date? W-what, with who?", he spluttered, a frown making its way on his face.

"Just some guy I met on tinder," you responded, "C'mon, I need to get to class," you nudged him.

He took your instruction to keep walking, still frowning, "A guy from tinder? You don't even know him? I- Is your brother okay with this?"

"It's not really any of his business, now, is it?", you scoffed.

"Since when are you even dating anyway? I thought you needed time to 'find yourself'. Isn't that the whole reason you were gone for half a year?", grumbled Seungcheol.

"Not like it's any of your business, but yeah, I am dating. I'm 19, it's not like I've never dated. I went on dates while I was traveling. It's not that big of a deal."

"You dated? What? And you never told me?"

This made you stop in your tracks, turning to him and making him halt too.

"'Tell you'? Why would you need to know anything about my dating life? We're not even friends."

"Oh, so now we're not friends? I've known you literally since the day Jeonghan's parents brought you home and now we're not friends?", he was beginning to get agitated, you could tell.

Pushing his buttons was fun at first, but now you were also starting to feel frustration at his entitlement over you.

"As far as I can remember, we've never been friends. You just liked the attention I gave you and made a joke of me for years. Is that friendship to you?"

"We- we shouldn't talk about this here, okay?" he looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to the two of you, but saw that only a few other students were walking by, completely unsuspecting.

"You know what, Cheol? Thanks for the drink. I can get to class alone. I'll see you at home," you snatched your bag from his arms and marched away, leaving a confused Seungcheol behind.

"Cheol told me you guys got into a fight," was the first thing Jeonghan said as he walked into your workplace at 7:30 sharp in the morning.

"God, it's bad enough I have to live with the two of you, do you need to gossip about me too?"

"I told you about his crush in confidence! I can't believe you'd betray my trust like this," he said with zero emotion behind his words.

"No you didn't."

"No I didn't", he giggled, "Give me my usual, yeah?", he took a seat on the counter right in front of you, grabbing a nearby muffin to accompany the drink you were now making him.

"So you're really dating now?", he inquired after less than five seconds of silence.

"How much did Seungcheol tell you?"

"He gave me a rundown of the entire conversation."

You groaned at this. Men were truly the nosier gender.

"Yes, I'm going on a date with some guy from one of my classes tomorrow."

"I thought you said he was from tinder?"

"I just assumed it'd annoy Cheol even more if he thought I was choosing some random guy over him."

"That's mean", he pouted, followed by a grin, "Good job."

You handed him his drink and took a moment to sit down from your side of the counter, sighing dramatically at your brother.

"Are you really not interested in Cheol at all?", he rubbed at your arm to show comfort.

"I ... Maybe? I liked him for so long. It's hard for that to just go away, specially knowing he likes me back. But I can't just let him win me over so easily, you know?"

"Maybe you should talk to him? Let him explain his thought process and see if it's worth giving him a chance."

"Maybe," you sighed.

"Not 'maybe.' You're talking to him. Spending a single night with the two of you while you were icing each other out was enough for me. I told him I'd stay somewhere else tomorrow night so the two of you can talk after your date. It's a done deal."

"Dude! Can you stop making decisions for me? I-"

"I'm your older brother. It's in the fine print," he argued.

"Adoptiv-"

He grabbed the muffin and put it to your lips, interrupting your sentence, "That's enough of that."

You opted to just let him win (yet again) and mentally prepare yourself for your conversation with Seungcheol the following day.

Joshua.

That was the name of the guy you'd be going on a date with this afternoon.

He was cute, polite, smart, and seemed to be an overall great guy based on the few interactions you'd had with him during class. He was actually who you used to walk to class with before Seungcheol had intercepted your routine by forcing his way into your schedule.

You weren't particularly excited about going on this date. Joshua was the perfect guy by all means, but you didn't feel any type of spark when you were with him. You were pretty sure he didn't either. It was hard to tell. Nothing really compared to the way you felt for Seungcheol during the majority of your teens. You doubted you'd ever crush on someone so hard ever again.

You had never admitted it out loud, but you were pretty sure your crush on Seungcheol had at some point become love. You didn't just like Seungcheol, you (had) loved him, which made getting over your infatuation even harder. It had also made that unbecoming feeling of rejection much harder to let go of. The reminder of the constant rejection you had gone through was enough to not even entertain the idea of looking at Seungcheol with the same enamored eyes you always reserved for him ever again.

And so now you were getting ready for your date. Whether anything came of it didn't matter too much to you. You needed to show both Seungcheol and your brother that you were truly over Seungcheol. That you wouldn't fall for him when it was finally convenient for him.

The date was overall nice.

The two of you had opted for something casual, deciding to an arcade and have a casual meal that consisted of nachos and some convenience store ramen afterwards.

The date felt like an outing you'd have with any other friend. Maybe because that's what it actually was in the end.

It didn't take too much time into your date for both you and Joshua to say what you were thinking – You were better off as friends. You both chuckled at it, finding it comedic how you had both had the same thought, meaning there would be no hard feelings at the end of the day.

The night was spent playing games and bantering with one another. It was a casual and quite relaxing outing between two friends. Which is what left Joshua to inquire as to why you had asked him out in the first place as he walked you back to your apartment.

"There's, uh, this guy I'm trying to get over," you decided to be honest with him. You could really see a friendship forming here, plus he seemed like a trustworthy guy, so lying would be fruitless.

"Ah. Makes sense", he clicked his tongue, "Is it Choi Seungcheol by any chance?"

That caught you off guard. And it must've shown in your face, as Joshua chuckled in return before continuing.

"I've just noticed the two of you together a lot lately, that's all. What's the story?"

If only Joshua had known about the length of the story you were about to tell him, he likely would not have asked, but the simple question was enough to fire you up and let him in on every excruciating detail.

By the end of it, Joshua's face had gone through every reaction. From surprised, to angry (likely in empathy), to apprehensive.

"Well, he sounds like he was a dick in high school-"

"Right!"

"But ...."

"'But'?!"

"Listen. You were what, 15? Guys are so dumb at that age. I did my fair share of dumb things. And having a pretty girl be so into you at that age would give any guy a huge ego. Maybe he's being honest about his feelings," he had reasoned.

"Why is everyone on his side? What, am I supposed to just forgive him?"

"Of course not. But maybe part of you still likes him. You shouldn't let your pride get in the way of finally being with the guy you like."

That last statement had left you thinking.

You already had doubts about your feelings for Cheol, knowing that your conflict towards his newfound feelings was enough indication to realize that you might've still been holding a torch for him.

But it was his comment about pride that really had you reconsidering things.

Was it really just your pride stopping you from even giving Seungcheol a chance?

The way that you saw it, if you gave in to Seungcheol now that he finally liked you back, it only proved how weak you were for him, how easy it was for him to just snap his fingers and have you at his feet once again.

But you also needed to consider the fact that he had liked you since seventeen. You were both nineteen now, going on twenty. He had held back on his feelings for two years, hoping that you'd someday reciprocate once more. Clearly he wasn't hoping to use your old crush against you, or else he would've done so already.

These conflicting thoughts plagued your mind all the way until Joshua hugged you goodbye at your apartment door, while you were unaware of Seungcheol watching the two of you with a frown from the small window behind you, completely misreading the situation.

"Joshua Hong? That's the guy you're dating?", were the first words he said to you when you walked in, fully washed with venom and disdain.

This was starting off well.

"Were you spying on me?"

"You didn't answer my question," he rebutted.

You walked past him and let yourself fall back on the couch, sighing at the conversation you knew was awaiting.

"Cheol. Stop beating around the bush by snooping into my life," you started, the beating of your heart betraying the confidence in your voice, "Jeonghan told me you wanted to talk, so talk."

"Is there even a point? If you're already taken, do I even have a chance?", he chuckled bitterly, taking a seat across from you on a lone loveseat.

Oh.

This was the first time Seungcheol had ever acknowledged his romantic feelings towards you in the two years in which he's supposedly had them. It made you feel weak to admit it, but that statement alone already had your resolve melting.

"I- I'm not taken. Joshua and I are just friends."

"You came back home together at 10. You're wearing a skirt. I saw the two of you hug outside. Am I missing something?", he scoffed.

"Dude, I- What? Those are all completely platonic things. Not like you have any right to complain anyways .." you trailed off.

"Okay, if it's not a date then why did you tell me it was one on Wednesday? Huh?"

"Because I wanted you to know what it felt like!", you blurted, abruptly getting up from the couch.

"What? You-"

"It's not fair, Seungcheol! I liked you. For years. And you never looked my way. You made fun of me, you used me, you ignored me. I was just some dumbass who couldn't take a hint, and now you like me? Now you wanna know who I'm dating and who I like? Hah," you were halfway through your rambles before you realized it.

He got up from his spot and walked over to you, solemn and hurt look on his face. He seemed embarrassed by your statement, though also accepting of it.

"You- you're right. I never took you seriously. I ... I always just saw you as Jeonghan's weird little sister, I-"

"We're the same age!"

"Okay, but Jeonghan was always so protective towards you, I always thought of you as a little kid. I'm sorry, I know how harsh and unfair that sounds, but I don't want to lie to you. I don't know what changed, or when it did, but I- at some point I just couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathed out.

"Hah," you chuckled bitterly, "Was this when I changed my look, Cheol? Are you that shallow?"

"N-no! Listen, I know the timing was bad, but it wasn't that. I always thought you were pretty. I know you probably didn't see it for yourself, and ... I know my teasing probably didn't help your confidence, – and that's something I regret so badly – but you've always been beautiful. It had nothing to do with that, I swear," he held his hand to his chest as if to swear by his words.

You couldn't help blushing at his words, avoiding eye contact for a moment before responding.

"Then what was it?"

"I guess I just missed you", he shrugged sadly, "I got so used to having you around and to knowing how much I meant to you. I took you for granted, and I regretted it the moment I lost you," it was his turn to feel embarrassed, "When you stopped seeking me out, I finally began to see what you were like past your crush. You were so fun and carefree. So nice and, and beautiful. You saw me in rose-colored glasses and I just didn't see you at all. Not until then," he finished.

"What does this all mean, Cheol?" you said, almost exasperated, "Am I supposed to forget the way you'd mock me or just straight up ignore me for years? Yeah, sure, we were kind of beginning to become friends once high school was almost over, but it didn't mean anything to me by that point. I was just over it."

"And are you over me?"

"What?"

He lifted his eyebrow in question, taking a few steps towards you.

"Are you really completely over me? Do you feel nothing at all?", his eyes were confidently following your gaze as he questioned you.

"I- Yes, I am," you gulped unwillingly, taking a few steps back as he took some forward.

"I don't believe that. I mean, you left only for a few months and I never stopped thinking about you ... There's no way you got over me that suddenly, is there?"

"You think too highly of yourself, Cheol-"

"So you feel nothing at all?", he had made his way into your personal space by now, almost crowding you against the wall, "Aren't you curious, at least? Don't you wanna see if there's anything left?", he breathed out.

"I, Cheol, I-"

"Just tell me no. Push me away. Tell me to fuck off and I'll leave you alone," his gaze fell to your lips, slowly making its way back to your eyes again.

"I can't, I ... Cheol ..."

Due to your lack of rejection, Seungcheol closed the gap, gently pressing his lips against you as he let out a breath of relief in his kiss.

You'd kissed a few boys during your time away. Hell, you'd even kissed Joshua earlier today, but neither of those experiences had felt quite like this. During all those exchanges, Seungcheol had always somehow been in the back of your mind, making you wonder what it would've been like if he had been the guy you were kissing instead. Now you finally knew what it was like ... And you were already growing addicted.

It was only a few seconds into the kiss when the two of you let your desire for the other take over. He groaned against your lips as you ran your hands through his hair, pulling his face as close to your own as possible. His hands ran down to your waist and caressed your back in a way far too desperate for the first kiss shared between the two of you.

With no words, he kissed you until running out of breath, eventually lowering his head so he could attack your neck with licks and nips to the sensitive skin on there. You leaned your head to the side, allowing him more room to suck into as he rejoiced in your sighs of pleasure.

It was a mutual exchange. The two of you seemed to be equally desperate for the other, your wandering hands never halting in the exploration of the other's body. His hands eventually dared to venture under your top, slowly sneaking their way towards your breasts. He kissed your lips once more as his hands caressed and played with your tits, moaning against your mouth every time you'd whine at his touches.

"Angel ...", he breathed against your lips, "Are you still sure? Are you still sure you don't want me?", his words were slightly muffled by his inability to disconnect from you for more than a second.

"I need- fuck, Cheol ... Just-"

"I know ... It's okay. You don't have to say it," he pushed his tongue into your mouth once again.

Cheol separated from you and led you to your room by your hand, closing the door before pressing you up against it and kissing you again.

The way he kissed you was nothing but sensual and full of emotion, making you forget any complaint you had against him as his lips connected to yours again and again.

His hands took advantage of your caged in position, feeling up every curve and squeezing at his favorite parts. There was a depraved urgency behind his movements, almost as if he had been aching to do this; burning to finally have you to his full disposition. When he seemingly had his fill of caressing every inch, he pulled away barely enough to speak (which had been a feat, as your lips desperately followed his, and his own were unable to resist yours at first).

"Let me take you to bed," be begged, "I've wanted you for years. Please, let me have you," he plead against your lips, giving you a languid peck as he finished his request.

"Cheol ..."

He pulled away a bit more at the hesitancy in your voice, "I know I was an asshole. I know I hurt you for years. I know I don't deserve you," he took a deep breath before intensely looking into your eyes, "but I can't stop thinking about you. If you ever felt even an ounce of what I've felt towards you since we were seventeen, then I'm so sorry to have caused you such pain. I was a stupid teenager who felt too cool to look your way long enough to realize you were far too good for me. Please. Please, I'll beg if you want me to , just ... Give me a chance," he finished with a pained expression in his eyes, voice wavering by the end of his speech.

"You made me feel like such an idiot, like-"

"I'm the idiot – Me! You're perfect," he grabbed onto your hands and brought them up to his lips, "I love you. So much. Jeonghan's so fed up of hearing me tell him how in love with you I am. All my friends know how I feel about you. I'll embarrass myself time and time again proving it to you," dropping your hands, he wrapped his arms around you again, bringing you closer to him as his eyes dropped to your lips.

That had been a shock.

You had never expected for Seungcheol's feelings to be anything more than superficial, much less did you expect for him to confess to you in such a way. The thought of him gushing about you to his friends was enough to make you blush, but knowing that he was willing to prove his feelings for you as much as you saw fit made you weak at the knees. This was all you had ever wanted, tenfold. If your current reaction to his revelation was anything to go by, then you were now realizing that your feelings for him had never truly gone away. You had carried a torch for Seungcheol all these years, even when you thought you had completely gotten over him. Even when you weren't thinking of him, he was always plaguing your mind.

And so you kissed him.

You put all previous hesitancy aside and followed your desires, pulling him to you as you let passion take over.

He didn't question you, choosing to press you up against him instead, blindly walking the two of you towards your bed and laying you down in it, crawling on top of you once more to keep kissing you.

No words were exchanged for a while, the only sounds filling up the room were made up of your collective moans and the ruffling of the bedsheets – result of the way you were feeling each other up. You were glad Jeonghan had decided to stay elsewhere tonight. Hell, he probably knew the two of you would snap and end up in the way you evidently did.

Pulling away for a quick moment, Seungcheol pulled away and threw off his shirt, causing the cloudiness in your mind to clear up for a moment so you could lean up and run your hands through his bare chest, earning a chuckle from him.

"Like what you see?", he smirked like the cockiest shit you'd ever seen, except it kinda worked on you regardless.

But you couldn't let him have the upper hand here, so you did what any sensible girl would do and threw off your own top, leaving you in a pretty lacy bralette.

The smirk wiped off his face immediately as his eyes lowered to your breasts. To make matters worse for him, you decided to sensually pull off your bra, making a little show out of it just to see how much lust would overtake him at the sight.

"Fuck ...", he muttered, leaning down so he could get his hands on you.

You stopped him before he could, however. Smirking at him, "You have to ask, Cheollie."

"Angel ... Don't play this with me."

"Ask, or else you can't touch me."

"I- Fuck. Please. Can I touch them?," he breathed out, eyes still glued to your chest as you played with your own mounds just to mock him.

You nodded, taking his arms and leading them to your chest.

He took full advantage of this, feeling you up like a starved man devouring his last meal. His mouth joined in on the fun soon after, kissing and licking at your nipples, groaning whenever your hands would pull at his hair.

He undressed the rest of you during the following minutes, making quick work of your shoes, his own, and your skirt. His pants were the last to go, leaving the two of you in just your underwear.

"Help me take it off?", he led your hands to his hardened cock, hooking your fingers on his boxers so you could get them off for him. You pulled his face down to your own and sucked on his tongue as your other hand aided him in removing his boxers. He did the same to your panties, finally crawling on top of you again, with your bare crotches finally facing one another.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he breathed against your lips, beginning a slow grind against your cunt.

You ground against each other like animals in heat for a while, losing your breaths with the other's lips. The way his hardened length graced your folds with the perfect friction had you getting wetter by the second, making you wail against his lips.

"Can I eat you out, baby?," he groaned into your mouth, a desperate look in his eyes.

"Y-yes, fuck," you cried.

He kissed at your nude body on his way down, licking and sucking splotches of red and purple wherever he could until reaching your thighs, using his strong arms to open them and wedge himself between them.

"God ... Been dreaming of kissing up these thighs for years. You're so fucking gorgeous, do you even know?", he sounded pained as he said so, pressing soft kisses at the softest part of your thighs, "Dreamt about you since were seventeen," he blew cold air into your cunt, causing you to retract a bit.

"Cheol ..."

"Is this how you felt? Huh? Did you want me just as badly as I did you?", he finally gave you an experimental lick, groaning at the taste, "But you never got over me, did you? That's good," he nodded to himself, licking more and more, "That way I get to keep you," and that was all he could say before his mouth became fully occupied by your cunt.

And he was right. Even as your crush died down, you got older and began to have thoughts about him. Thoughts that accompanied you on the many lonely nights while you were abroad and away from him. During all those nights in which you swore you were over him. It was nice to know that you'd had a similar effect on him these past few years.

You didn't have much time to ponder about it as Seungcheol quite literally lost himself between your legs. His arms proved to be as strong as they looked, forcing your legs open even as the stimulation made you try and close them around his head. His groans of pleasure against your weeping cunt did not help matters, simply leading you to your end all the faster.

"Fucking delicious, fuck. No one's ever had this before, right, beautiful? You've been saving this cunt for me? Hmm?", he slurred his words while he made out with your pussy, groaning once more when you whimpered in confirmation, "Need to taste you, angel. Cum for me, fuck. Wanna be the first one to feel you like this," he rambled, delirious on your taste.

And you were equally as delirious, falling apart for him almost as if your body had been following his direction. He continued to make sinful sounds against your cunt as he tasted you all through your high, making you even more lightheaded than you already were.

Giving you no time to recover, Seungcheol climbed atop you once more and made you swallow any words you may have had by sealing your lips with his own, forcing your the remnants on your taste onto your own tongue. You battled each other like this once more, hands careless as they grabbed at one another in desperation.

"C-condom?", be pulled away to ask.

"No, Cheol. I- You don't carry?", you managed to let out.

"I, No. I- I've never ..."

He looked uncharacteristically bashful, making you tilt your head in curiosity. Until it hit you.

"You're a virgin?"

He pulled away at this, sitting up a bit on the bed and creating a small distance between the two of you.

"It's not- I've done stuff before, just not ... this. I, uh, I was waiting for you," he confessed, forcing his eyes away from your gaze.

This broke your heart, but in a good way.

If you had any remnants of doubt in your mind about his sincerity about his crush, they were gone now. He had waited. For you. He wanted you to be his first, so he waited for you to come back. He waited for you to like him again. In the same way you had never seriously dated anyone before, he waited.

"Cheol ..."

He must've misinterpreted your tone, as he continued to refuse eye contact with you, seemingly embarrassed at being a virgin for some reason.

So you took matters into your hands, grabbing onto him with a confident hand and pulling him into you once more. With some unexpected strength, you managed to switch positions with him, now straddling him as his back laid against your mattress.

Before he could question you, you kissed him again, this time with a passion you knew you could only reserve for Seungcheol. He kissed you back with equal want, making you feel like you'd reached a stage of nirvana no one had ever before. Every emotion behind the kiss was far too intense to even describe.

The rest of the exchange was almost wordless, with a few silences being filled by praise for one another. You finally sat yourself down on him, condomless, but not regretful at all for your decision. If you were to ever let anyone impale you without filter, it'd be him.

The bruises he left on your hips were accepted with delight. It was only fair, seeing as your nails also left marks on his chest. The two of you left your mark on the other; a silent way of letting the other know who they belonged to.

You bounced and ground on top of him, almost wailing at the way in which his hands guided your movements in such a desperate way. At some point you began shamelessly humping against each other, filling the space with depraved sounds of pleasure.

Cheol looked down to the spot connecting you, groaning upon seeing the wetness seeping from your cunt, but decidedly bringing a hand towards your mound in order to toy with your clit. The arch of your back and extra tightness of your cunt were enough for his orgasm to approach more rapidly than planned.

"With me," he rasped, "Cum with me ... Need your first time to be with me. Just like this."

You barely registered his words. Your eyes were already rolled back, and your back arched almost to the point of breaking. Your toes completely curled and your nails digging into his reddened chest. But you understood, and your body acted accordingly, bringing you into orgasm as he softly counted you down, leading to an almost perfectly synchronized high.

A few moments of comfortable silence (sans the heavy breathing) went by before Seungcheol carefully pulled out of you with a low groan and did his best at cleaning you up with some kleenex near your bed. He gave you a soft peck after he was done, settling the two of you under the covers and held you in his arms.

"Always wanted this part too."

"Hmm?"

"To hold you like this", he clarified, smiling down at you.

Blushing involuntarily, you agreed, cuddling further into his warm chest, leading him to softly run his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner.

"I meant everything I said. I'll always regret treating you the way I did. There's no reason why you should, but I hope you'll forgive me," he sounded pained at his own words, likely feeling genuine hatred for the way in which he behaved during your early teenage years.

You pulled away from his chest, creating a small distance between you so you could look into his eyes properly.

"Seungcheol, I ... I love you," you started, "And I forgive you. I was wrong to judge you so harshly for not liking me the way I wanted you to back then. I'm sorry for letting my pride get in the way. I shouldn't have iced you out after I got over you. It was the only way at the time to protect myself from the rejection and-"

"Stop," he went to hold your cheeks in his hands, "You have nothing to apologize for. You forgiving me is all I wanted, and ... and knowing you feel the same is more than I was ever expecting. We'll move past all that, okay?"

"Okay," you nodded sweetly.

"Now ... Is it too soon to ask you to be official?"

"You waited until after popping my cherry to ask me out?", you laughed.

"In my defense ..."

"You have none!"

"Okay, whatever! Just say yes so Jeonghan doesn't continue to suffer through my rants about how much I like his sister," he pulled you into his arms again, returning your laughter.

"Fine! Yes! We're official," you feigned annoyance, but were unable to not mimic his own smile.

It had taken far too long, but you finally had the upper hand. He liked you. He asked you out. He was yours. The wait had been worth it.

To read short 2k word continuation u can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, penetrative sex, deprived cheol, banter with jeonghan, etc.

wc: 989 (teaser); 2009 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Okay, I need the two of you to get the hell out of my apartment."

That had been the way in which Jeonghan welcomed the two of you upon walking in on you and Seungcheol calmly watching a movie together in your shared living room.

It had now been three months since you and Seungcheol began officially dating. Since you were roommates, this also meant that you were now living with your boyfriend. Despite the fact that Cheol and your brother shared a room together (leaving you with a room of your own), Seungcheol still had the tendency of spending a few nights per week sleeping over at your room.

So far, the dynamic between the three of you hadn't changed too much. The biggest difference was that now you and Seungcheol finally developed more of a friendship than you had during the period of time between high school and college in which you had begun to ice him out in order to protect your own feelings. That, however, died down as soon as you moved in, eventually leading to your current romantic relationship with each other.

Jeonghan had been happy for you, having known that if he forced the two of you (and subsequently left you two alone in the apartment) to talk, you'd inevitably end up confessing your feelings and finally getting together. He had seen it coming since middle school, he had said. It only took about six years for his matchmaking to come into fruition, but it led to some pretty interesting slowburn – his words, not yours.

In these past three months, however, some awkward moments had arisen.

Being your brother, Jeonghan always found it uncomfortable whenever he happened to be around when you and Seungcheol would do couple activities. Seeing you hang out was fine, obviously, but a few weird instances had already left him traumatized.

So far, he had walked in on you making out a total of five times, feeling each other up over your clothes two times, Seungcheol making eyes at you seven times, had come across your discarded underwear three times, and had even walked in on you having sex once. At some point a line had to be drawn, and apparently he had chosen that to he now.

"Dude, you're the one who wanted us to get together," you argued.

"I wanted the mutual pining to stop, not to almost walk in on my sister getting railed every other day. Leave!," he said, though he simply sat down on the couch, forcibly creating a wedge between you and Cheol.

"Let's just go to your room, babe," Seungcheol got up, taking your hand while giving Jeonghan a dirty look, "Nuance," he grumbled.

"You're the nuance," responded Jeonghan, though already immersed with the popcorn and TV he had stolen from you.

Seungcheol led you to your room, closing the door behind you and instantly turning to you.

"Hi, baby," he whispered, holding you close to him.

"Hi," you giggled at him.

He leaned down to kiss you, his hands on the small of your back and pressing you up against him. His lips were basically on yours before Jeonghan's sudden voice made the two of you jump back in surprise.

"Don't have sex! I swear to God, if I hear the two of you having sex one more time, I'm evicting you! Just sleep like normal people!," he had yelled from the living room.

He had a bit of a point. The walls were relatively thin here, and you weren't exactly quiet when you had sex.

Seungcheol groaned and buried his face in your neck, "Baby, will you still love me if I kill your brother?"

"I'll love you even more," you pouted.

He snickered, removing his head from your neck and giving you a singular peck on your lips, "C'mon, let's go to sleep."

The two of you had initially thought that Jeonghan's complaint about you having sex had been a fluke. You believed that maybe he was stressed that day and that he hadn't meant what he said when he stated that he did not want the two of you to sleep together anymore. However, his words proved to be more literal throughout the following week.

Any time the two of you were so much as together, Jeonghan would groan and complain, saying that if he caught the two of you doing anything less than PG, he would cause 'any trouble possible to stop it' (his own words). It was beginning to frustrate you, but your frustration could not compare to that of Seungcheol's.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm really doing it this time," he said decidedly, hearing Jeonghan's incessant attempts to interrupt whatever was going on behind your closed door.

"Babe-"

"I just want to have sex with you! It's been over a week since I've had you, I'm going insane", he pulled at his scalp.

"Yeah, I know, but he just-"

"Babe, I don't think you understand. I'm hard every day. Even seeing you gets me going by now. I can't do this anymore! Any time I try to touch you, he's there somehow!"

The manic look in his eyes spoke for itself. And it was true. Seungcheol's constant blue balling this past week and a half had him growing aroused at the mere sight of you in shorts. It was flattering, but it was beginning to affect you too. Knowing how badly he wanted you made you weak at the knees, causing the two of you to grow incredibly frustrated at your brother's antics.

You realized now that maybe you shouldn't have been so liberal in sleeping together while living with your brother. You should have known he would snap sooner or later, no matter how much he had rooted for the two of you to get together.

You wondered how this would end up playing out, because the two of you were already beyond breaking.

...

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kiwisbell · 3 months

Text

yellow bird [joel miller]

Taking the weight off your shoulders.

whiskey sour masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), dbf!joel, age gap (20s/40s), sexual frustration, academic-validation-to-praise-kink pipeline, these two are in lurvvvv, thigh riding, joel talks you through it, and maybe reveals a side of him we haven't seen yet, a lil fluid exchange, some sweet sappy talk because it's them what do we expect, pure self-indulgence, that’s about it

word count: ~ 2.7k

a/n: this was mine and @cavillscurls's challenge to myself to write somethin short and sweet, thank you mya for being a cheerleader throughout this whole process. and thank you hugely el @northernbluess for last-minute beta reading and telling me it does not(?), in fact, suck dick n cock. i envision this as part of the whiskey sour-verse, but you don't need to read the series to understand what's going on here! this honestly makes me super fucking nervy to post, but i hope you enjoy. xoxo

read on ao3!

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The moon is carving a path through the darkening sky, and you’ve been quiet for hours.

You sit at the dining table with your cheek in your palm, lidded eyes flitting relentlessly from one side of the page to another. Every couple minutes, you jot down some notes on your cue cards. Your coffee lies untouched next to your textbook.

Each slash of pen across paper cuts into his chest. You write in bursts of furious energy, the paper sometimes bunching under your fist, black ink smearing—you only ever write in black—one letter into the next. Your jerky looping letters resemble nothing close to your penmanship. Your sentences are punctuated by squiggles rather than dots. The corners of your eyes are moist, your skin glowing gold under a filtered smattering of light from the street lamps outside.

There's a tight line to the curve of your mouth, a gash of colour where your lipstick has faded. Weariness dulls the shimmer in your eye. You keep writing.

“Thought you were goin’ out with your friends tonight,” says Joel.

“Hmm?” You blink slowly, the sound of his voice dragging your gaze toward Joel: dressed in jeans and an olive flannel (a gift from you), he's watching you study, a worried slash between his brows. “Oh,” you say. “No. I bailed.”

A flare of his nostrils as he approaches you from the coffee station is the only indication he gives that he's frustrated. “You’ve been workin’ all day, baby. You haven't eaten.” He slides his coffee mug toward you and switches it with your own. “Here, take mine. Yours is gettin’ cold.”

You start to shake your head. “Joel, it’s—”

“It's either you drink mine,” he says, sliding the milk and sugar toward you, “or you take a break.”

You narrow your eyes. “You hate my coffee.”

“Relationships are sacrifice. C’mere.” He yanks the leg of your chair toward him until you're sitting beside one another. He dips his mouth to your temple, and sleep begins to tug at your eyelids. Still, you keep your books open, if not partially out of spite, as Joel drinks your too-sweet coffee and hides his grimace.

“You hate it.”

Joel’s eyes slide to you over the rim of his cup, his chest pulling taut at the sight of the unshed tear on the outer corner of your eye, teetering.

Your bottom lip wobbles, your last Sisyphean effort to hold the droplet of water at bay, and Joel sets down the mug.

“You hate my coffee,” you whisper, not meeting his eye.

It's the press of his hand to your lower back that makes your fingers tremble, curled tightly around your pen. “There are worse things I’d do for you than drink shitty coffee.”

“So you admit it's shitty.”

His fingers dance up and down your lower vertebrae. “You’re exhausted,” he says softly, his mouth grazing your shoulder. “Come and take a break. Can feel all that tension, sweetheart. Right—”

The warm press of his palm between your shoulder blades. The simple touch ignites pressure behind your nose.

“—here,” he finishes with the pinch of his thumb and forefinger around your brain stem.

Your head lolls gently in his direction. “I know what you're doing.”

An innocent sound pitches out of his throat. “Do you?”

Your lashes flutter as he begins to dig his palm into the tense balls of muscle in your back. The contact, warm and almost gentle, undoes you. The pearl stuck in your lashes shakes free.

The impact of it carving a path down your cheek strikes his heart true. “C’mere, baby.”

Pulling you reluctantly away from your workbooks, Joel sits on the couch and guides you on top of him, your thighs hugging his hips. “This sad face,” he says under his breath, brushing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “So pretty when you’re sad.” Your eyes dip when his stubble ghosts across your jaw, his lips warming the shell of your ear.

You huff, your arms winding around his neck. “You’re wandering into patronising, Miller.”

“Hmm, big words.” His grin carves its shape into your skin. He nips the spot just below your ear and you gasp, your fingers curling in the locks at the nape of his neck. “Told you, baby—such a smart girl.”

You open your mouth to snip at him, but he’s sliding one big, rough hand underneath your silky shorts and pinching your ass. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his pinky finger dipping under your waistband.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, wriggling on his lap. He hums, the downward curve of his mouth on your skin etched in skepticism, his hands pulling you tighter to him.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby.” His hand slides up your spine, lifting your little silk shirt, the hardness of him caging you in. “Tell me so I can fix it.”

You're gooey and pliant on top of him, hips flexing to fix your thighs around his waist, your body attuned to him in a way you refuse to fight. Joel Miller is yours. He’s always had your back.

“I’m tired, Joel. I keep bombing these stupid fucking tests, and the new guy at work is incompetent, and I haven't had an orgasm in a whole week.”

Sometimes, you're surprised by how deeply you envy your Joel for being so fucking right. For knowing, even when you don't, how deeply your wounds sit.

He frowns up at you, his thumb caressing the curve of your jaw, guilt and understanding pinching his ribs. “And I’ve been workin’ late,” he says.

Silently, you nod, fisting the hem of his shirt. “But that's okay, Joel. I know you work hard. It's not your job to—”

He shakes his head, trailing his hands up and down your soft thighs. “I’ve been workin’ late,” he repeats, his voice thinning, “and I haven't been treating my girl like she deserves.”

Your cheeks warm at the way his hands reach your inner thighs, thumbs ghosting across your hip bones. “That's not true.”

“Baby, you look at me.” He cups you like warm wax and you're melting just the same, gaze sliding up to meet his. Brown, glinting gold as they catch the orange lamplight, his eyes don't leave you. “You need to come?”

Your mouth drops. You really fucking do. If he notices your slip—the way your hips still on his lap, your arms wound tight around his shoulders—he doesn't say nor soothe. “Joel, I didn’t mean to—”

He quiets you with a loving nip at your chin. “You wanna be a good girl?”

A shudder railroads down your vertebrae. Your core is tight, hot, your little pyjama shorts shifting over your pussy, velvet-soft. “Joel, you really don't have to—”

“You wanna come?” he says again, his teeth scraping the shell of your ear before he takes your lobe between them. You gasp, clutching him tight to you, a buoy bobbing above the torrent.

“Yes,” you tell him, breathless, letting him play with the waistband of your shorts. “Yes. I need to come so badly. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m a bad man, takin’ my girl for granted.”

It’s not true, he’d never, has not once, and still you whimper at the sound of my girl on his tongue.

“You are a bad man,” you tell him, halfheartedly shoving him in the chest.

“And?” he prompts, drawing the poison from the wound.

“And I need to come.”

Joel’s mouth curves in understanding, the hairs of his moustache bristling in the corners.

“Take ‘em off,” he says. “Let me be good to you.”

You ease your thighs out of your silk shorts, and Joel’s got his hands on your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. A cool shiver snakes from your cool feet, now on the floor as you stand naked before him, to the scruff of your neck. It longs for the touch of his fingers.

“God, you're fuckin’ beautiful.” Joel takes your outstretched hand, tugging you toward him. His palms smooth over the planes of your torso, thick fingers fitting to your ribs, the follower at the altar. It's only when he touches the small of your back that his eyes abstain from their reverent path across your body and meet yours.

“Tell me what you want,” he says plainly, fingers catching at the ends of your hair.

You crowd him, gaze sweeping down his body at the hard length of his cock down his thick thighs and the utter stillness of him when met with your type-A jitters.

“To be your good girl,” you say.

“I know.” It's a whisper in the quiet. Somewhere, distantly, the dishwasher churns through its cycle. A car horn blares. Wind blows. “Sit down.”

You go eagerly to him, your spirit alight with his closeness, the scent of pine and sawdust from a long day’s work, the soft cotton of his flannel, the scrape of his denim along your thighs. Wordlessly, Joel shifts you until you're straddling one of his thighs.

The jolt of pressure to your clit makes you gasp, clawing for purchase on his chest. Your fists wrap around the lining of his flannel.

Oh, God is the vague chant that eats at his liver, chewing on the ripe mass, the wound sealing over to deliver himself once again at your feet. It’s tossed into the space between you, maybe a little blasphemous, maybe thoughtless. It’s the glassy film over your eyes, those irises he could trace in the dark, the call of love that never quiets.

“Feel good?”

The smug bastard. His hand is still soft and sweet on your spine, climbing high only to drop, no longer meeting the resistance of clothing. The cool air puckers your nipples, your body tightening as you pull in on yourself.

“You remember that first night?” he says softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You were so cold, baby. All alone and needin' a good strong hand.”

He squeezes your ass, forcing your hips to shift over his leg. The slow grind of your wet seam along the coarse denim makes your thighs tremble. “Fuck,” you whisper. “That's… that’s good.”

He hums like he knows. “You remember what you did that night?” he asks. “Climbed on me, just like this, and made yourself feel good. Thought I’d come in my pants then and there.”

Your breathless laugh hitches in your throat as your hips begin to grind down of their own volition. The friction is rough, unkind, nothing like the gentle press of his hands on your bare skin. Sweat begins to glisten in the hollow of your throat as you throw your head back and lose yourself in the rhythmic roll of your body over his thigh.

“That's it,” he grunts, squeezing your hips, his cock twitching, untouched, in his boxers. You’re smearing your wetness over the denim, washing it dark, letting the light shift over your writhing body. “That's my pretty girl, usin’ me like you need to.”

“Ah, fuck,” you cry out, bearing down the weight of you on his leg, grinding hard against him as you seek your own pleasure.

“Let's hear it,” he urges, gritting his teeth at the sight of your poor swollen clit, needy and glistening, exposed. “Lemme have it, baby girl, c’mon.”

Your moan is strangled, language muddied in your head as Joel surges upright and latches his mouth around your nipple. Biting and sucking raw, his rapacious mouth is warm nectar that pools hot in your belly, his hands coaxing your hips through their movements, guiding you in the dance nonetheless.

“I'm your good girl,” you rasp, the coil pulling tight at the base of your stomach, the hollow bowl filling to the brim, keeping him, coveting him.

“That's right. My good girl.” His hot breath blooms like possessive fingers where his mouth makes contact on your throat, plucking your nerve endings like a bushel of daisies.

“I can feel you, baby girl,” he groans into your throat. “I can feel your tight fuckin’ cunt gettin’ me all wet. Feel you grabbin’ me like a goddamn cat. You close, huh?”

You whimper, your nails scratching at his chest through the fabric of his shirt, your stomach taut as you approach your high, bucking your hips hard against his leg. “Fuck, Joel, fuck! I’m so close—”

“Tell me who you are.”

“I’m a good girl.” You wind your arms around his neck as you begin to list, your breasts pressing into his chest, closeness sparking to flame as your warmth rubs up against him.

He’s steadfast, thick arms holding you upright, as he groans your name into your ear like it's something blasphemous. “Who are you?” he repeats.

“I’m your good girl, Joel! Fuck, I’m yours, your good girl. Oh, God, Joel, please…”

“That's right, sweetheart.” His hand latches around the nape of your neck, slick with sweat, while you bury your face in his throat. “My good girl’s gonna come all over me again, because that's what good girls do, hmm? They make themselves feel good when their bad men go and forget their place.”

You sob his name into the crook of his neck, the friction etching too much into your sore, rubbed-raw flesh. Your thighs hug him tight, hips thrashing hard above him as you come with a shout, your wet mouth dragging along the vein pulsing in his throat and trailing saliva in its wake. Joel doesn’t seem to care, coaxing you through your high when it starts to last a little longer than normal, pulling you so close that you can hardly remember your shape when it’s not slotting into him.

There's a dark spot spreading over his jeans, and your inner thighs are sticky with release. Joel tilts your chin up with his mouth, littering kisses from your jaw to the hollow of your throat. His tongue darts out playfully as his fingers dip between your bodies and tease through your messy slit.

“Joel,” you gasp, your face warm. He lifts two soaked fingers to his mouth and cleans them off with a couple swirls of his tongue.

And he's kissing you before you can retreat into yourself. He turns you inside-out, bares your soul to him, and all you can do is taste the sweet tang of the release you gave yourself.

Your tongues tangle, languid in your mutual exploration, the push-and-pull you've always known. By the time he pulls away to press his lips to your forehead, you're decently sleepy, your muscles gooey and your body slumping sideways in his lap.

“Ruined your jeans,” you mumble.

His fingertips ghost up and down your spine. A cool shudder blooms from each point of contact. He’s still hard, enough that it must ache, but he makes no move to free himself. “I like ‘em this way,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Such an idiot.”

Clicking his tongue, Joel says, “You treat your elders this way?”

You nip his nose. “Only when they’re sweet on me.”

He chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear so he can kiss your temple. “You feel okay?”

Your hands slide up his chest, hooking around his neck, your fingers threading together in his hair. “I feel like a million bucks, baby. But next time, you can come inside me.”

The purr registering in your chest has him preening under the attention, his hands coming to rest just above your ass. “I’m gonna tell you what’s going to happen tonight,” he says, ignoring your apprehensive glare. “You're gonna put away your books, and eat a good dinner, which I’ll make, and you’ll rest.”

Your Joel is stubborn in his own way, and it shows in the tension above his brow, the splaying of his hand over your back. You reach for him and smooth out his frown with your thumb. “I’ll do whatever you say, Joel Miller. As long as you make my favourite.”

You could drown happily in the way he smiles. It always comes on slow, like he isn't quite sure of himself, but it will glow in his eyes. It will sing through him like a light through glass.

“Yeah,” he says, “I can do that.”

Your blood calls to him. And you could do it all without him, sure—but he won’t let you.

THE END.

#posting this and running #kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #whiskey sour #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff

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orionremastered · 3 months

Note

I’m actually so obsessed with the way you write the boys like🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

why thank you anon this made me smile

and because im nice (school hasn't started yet)

Masterlist

911 Texting the Batboys

Dick Grayson

Exactly one minute after you send him the text, the living room window shatters into a million pieces across the floor. Nightwing calls your name, voice raw with concern, before surveying the state of your apartment.

"Oh," you say quietly by the kitchen, staring at the broken pieces of glass across the floor and then at your boyfriend who stares at you, chest heaving as he looks at you, confused.

"You're not hurt?"

"Well— I— the pan caught fire. I put it out though. I'm not burnt, I promise."

He looks at you doubtfully, storming over before pulling you into a tight embrace. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't be. It's okay. Don't be scared to text me if you're in any trouble. Promise you'll let me know if you're in danger?"

"I promise."

"Good," he mutters, though more as a reassurance for himself, resting his head on yours and breathing deeply.

"You can let me go now," you point out gently.

"Two more minutes."

Jason Todd

When your boyfriend takes longer to show up than expected, you start to get confused. And cold— it's the middle of winter and your hoodie was stolen while you were out with your friends.

And that wouldn't be a problem if you're car wasn't starting either.

The familiar roar of a motorcycle engine catches your attention, dark shape speeding down the street towards you. It skids to a stop, the tires screeching in order to slow.

"Hey," you say with a wave and a smile. "Car broke down and—"

Red Hood rushes off his motorbike, carefully grabbing you to look you over in the empty street. When he finds nothing, he sighs. "Thought you'd been kidnapped. Couldn't find you at your apartment."

Without waiting for your reply, he shrugs his brown leather jacket off his shoulders and places it around yours, helping you put your arms into the sleeves despite you protesting that you can do it yourself.

"Let's get you home," he says gruffly, aching to hold you in his embrace when no one can see. "I'll call in a favour to get your car fixed."

Tim Drake

You don't think you'd ever been more embarrassed in your life when you realised you forgot your phone, which has your card in the case, at home.

Tim rushes into the store, having tracked your location immediately and driving well over the speed limit, still in his pristine CEO outfit.

"What's wrong? Is someone bothering you?" his eyes dart around the store, taking everyone's face and putting it to memory.

"No... I forgot my phone and card. And I have a full cart of groceries. Tim, I can't put this all back, that's weird."

"Why didn't you ask me to pay before?"

"I— hmm. I'll do that next time."

You lead him to the counter were the high school aged cashier gapes at the richest man in Gotham who pays for the food without even glancing at the price.

Damian Wayne

When you texted 911 to your boyfriend, you certainly weren't expecting this. Somehow, in the five minutes of the text being sent, he managed to gather ten League of Assassins members that now stand in your suddenly very cramped apartment, sharp katanas at their side.

"Are you alright?" Damian himself has two katanas, glinting in the terrible lights. "What's wrong?"

It seems so stupid now with ten assassins behind him. Maybe you shouldn't have texted after all. "Look, it's really—"

"I don't care how little it is," he states, "You texted me for a reason."

"I... I thought I could hear someone talking and moving in the walls."

All eleven of them tense, exchanging glances. Damian gives them one sharp nod and the assassins begin locating any hollow spaces in the walls, tapping their knuckles and listening closely to the sounds.

"وجدت ذلك," one says after a few seconds.

"Don't worry about it habibi, we'll tear the building apart and find them," Damian assures you, pulling you into his arms.

#batfamily x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader

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kiss-me-muchoo · 3 months

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬 || 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ you are the girl who does the makeup effects for the society of the snow and you fall for el pendejo de Enzo (no te creas, papi tkm💋). But you start avoiding him because it’s not correct to fall in love with someone like him.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ AGE GAP (I’m turning 20 in March, let me live my fantasy), angst, fluff, Spanglish fic (I’m Mexican American, I know what I’m writing), reader is in denial and speaks Spanish, idk misunderstandings?, happy ending (irl Enzo nunca nos va a pelar)😭

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ I hate Spanglish but how can I keep both mi gente latino and my RAHHH🦅🇺🇸 people happy? With a Spanglish fic. I let go all my frustrations y lo ardida que estoy con cierto uruguayo.

♪ ♫ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝟒 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 ✰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱

@kissmemucho on X // @_hannia.k on instagram

「 𝐃𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚_ para todas mis Enzo-motomamis del grupo que ya las quiero un montón y para Juani, que el hijodesuputamadre nunca me ha likeado ni topado. Me volví el joker y ahora soy hater (igual tkm jUaNi) 」

—————————————————————————

One day, you started hating going to work. It was half work, half practice for college. Still, you started hating it. From moving some months to Spain to work on the makeup team for a movie, to spending hours with each actor to do their makeup.

That wasn’t the issue though. It was just that… uh… gosh.

You had developed a crush for that man called Enzo. It was so cringe to admit. And it tore apart you because he was significantly older than you. He would never turn to look down at you. That was the most honest thing about the whole thing. Only that you were even depriving yourself from being his friend.

But god, his pretty nose and deep eyes. His soft hair and perfect smile. The way he was so kind to everyone and to you. Soon you learned he was single too. It was so damn much that it made you so mad. He was perfect. Gorgeous in every sense.

And that’s exactly why you now hate going to work.

Sometimes the aura around the team seemed to be heavy due to the context of the movie. You had seen how every actor started to lose weight and prepare for the role. Which was a little tough. Anyways, everyone in the cast believed you were a burst of sunshine at least. Who seemed to make the hours spent seated on a chair with makeup and prosthetics being placed a little more fair.

“¡HEY!…GUAPA, VENÍ PARA ACÁ!” You heard as soon as you entered the workplace. Once you spotted the little circle of boys, you rolled your eyes and giggled.

“¿Y ahora qué se te ofrece Juani?”

“Que confirmes si vienes a cenar con todos” you looked at the others. Matías and the others were exchanging looks, with none other than Enzo. You don’t even look at the man, you can only focus on the boy with annoying blue eyes.

“Cómo jodes, chico. Ya veré si voy o no, tengo mucho que hacer” that was true, you had a lot to do. But mostly, it was because you believed you had nothing amazing to share with them.

“Podemos esperarte.” Enzo said, which immediately made your stomach flutter and your chest to get congested. He was wearing some t-shirt and those damn Adidas joggers he liked to repeat on a daily basis.

The fact that he suggested waiting for you to go out and have dinner should’ve made you blush, but it only made you nervous, increasing your eagerness to run away from the little circle of men.

“No pasa nada, váyanse ustedes. Que se la pasen bien…” and poor Enzo, he watched how you disappeared through the hallways with your big bag full of makeup and brushes.

“Ya va a caer…”

“Pero ni me gusta” everyone giggled. Enzo knew you were younger, of age, but younger. He also knew you were from a little too far away from Uruguay, that you were bilingual, that you were passionate about writing and other arts, that your eyes were lighter than expected in the sun, that your hands were very soft and that you were so extroverted with everyone except with him.

“Sos idiota, si no te gustara no te hubieras quedado como mogólico viéndola irse”

“Pero es una niña…” he tried to reason.

“La veinteañera universitaria que trabaja aquí en producción y anda sola por la vida” everyone laughed again. You were certainly an adult. Yeah you still acquired toys, listened to silly music and watched Barbie or Bratz movies. But you were legally an adult.

Which led Enzo wondering if he could ever have a chance with you. You had seen a lot of people, with how many times you had travelled to Los Angeles, the heart of Hollywood and everything, sometimes he doubted you could be interested in him.

But no… he definitely hadn’t caught an eye on you.

…

It was a Friday. A week from the day you rejected dinner with your workmates. Nothing serious happened after that. Juani made fun and exposed you with random tweets like a bully. He was laughing his ass off of you, so shameless and stupid. However, you on the other hand… were dying out of embarrassment. Especially after seeing how many people started following him. Then gifting him with an army of girls starving for shitpost around the internet.

“Si no estuvieras por grabar una escena tan desgarradora, te ahorcaba en este preciso momento, Juani '' you wanted to kill him. He had posted online two videos of you dancing like the proudest stripper, a picture of you rolling your eyes that looked extremely silly and dorky. Two audios of you cursing in Spanish and saying how much you hated capitalism. And he even made his own stickers of you to pass around the group chat of the cast.

“Eso te pasa por ¡RIDÍCULA!” The tone he used, extremely mocking you was enough to make you laugh along with him and caught the attention of everyone surrounding you two.

“Pues nunca te conseguiré el follow de los ex-One Direction” he stopped laughing, knowing you had made him remember his humbling twitter posts.

“¡Qué boluda… y pesada!”

“Okay, pinche ardido” one of the design team members from the movie appeared and handed you a little paper. It was the list of your schedule. Juani snatched it and opened it before you could even blink.

“UYYY… te toca todo el día con Enzo” he started teasing you like a child. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Pero la boluda y pesada soy yo”

“Pues si” you finally read the paper and yes… 3 hours with Enzo.

“Well… it could be worse” you admitted sighing, accepting that you would spend three hours swallowing your pride and pierced feelings.

“Dejáte querer…” you frowned confused at the boy beside you.

“What?” You asked laughing, but he only shrugged.

“Nothing, dear” once again, you rolled your eyes.

“De verdad eres medio insoportable” he batted his ears, acting innocent. Deep down, both of you were actually friends.

“Te quiero” he responded, making you laugh once again.

“Si, yo también. Mi pendejito favorito”

“No, ese debe ser Enzo” this time, you blushed.

“Como chingas con meterlo en nuestras conversaciones. ¿Te gusta o qué?” He laughed, helping you out with your heavy bag full of brushes and capes and everything.

“No. ¿Y a vos? ¿Gustas de Enzo?” You remained quiet, pretending you hadn’t heard him.

You opened the door of the little room, surprised to see Enzo already there. So you grabbed the bag from Juani and started closing the door.

“Adios, naco perdedor” and just like that, you closed the door on his face.

You sighed, closing your eyes, before staring at the plain door for some seconds.

“Hola…” you heard his deep and sweet voice. It was just… that you had to be a big girl and leave aside your foolishness for that grown ass man. He was just a crush… a simple mortal at the end.

“Hi…” you replied awkwardly. You had seen the following section of his instagram, the most pretty girls, very different from you. Which made you feel… like it was auto-sabotage. But before you could start feeling depressed again. You decided to keep working, the only reason why you were in that room in the first place.

He would think you kinda disliked him. Every time you entered to work on his makeup, he would be smiling and trying to talk to you. And while you were polite and smiley too, you remained very quiet, always avoiding his cute eyes.

“¿Cómo estás?” He would ask, looking at you through the mirror in the room.

“Pues muy bien, gracias.” You would reply, turning to open the boxes with prosthetics and other special effects makeup. And he sighed, already feeling a little disappointed.

“¿Me permites tus manos?” You ask him. He shows you the palm of his hands with another smile, which you reply quickly. Your heart started pounding as soon as he walked into the room.

“Perdón si estoy fría.” You admit with a blush, knowing the tips of your fingers were freezing.

“No pasa nada, linda” he had to be joking. He couldn’t call you “linda” just like that? However, you do your best to ignore it.

So you start making little lines of the paint samples you had taken. Until you noticed which one was identical to his skin.

“Okay, I got it.” You speak to yourself, out loud though. Sometimes Enzo questioned if you weren’t fluid in Spanish, but he had heard you talk and talk with other people in Spanish. Your accent was so clean, so different to the rest of the crew.

“¿Te molesta si pongo música?” You ask him, grabbing your phone.

“No, para nada.”

“Nomás no me vayas a juzgar” you giggle without looking at him, scrolling through your playlist.

It was the first time you attempted to joke with him. And he wouldn’t risk the opportunity.

“Jamás podría…” you only thank him before starting to play some music.

He was used to your touch now. You had small and soft hands compared to him. Every time you had to pick the right tone that matched his skin, brush his hair and work inches away from his face. It was insufferable for you. And to him… it only built more intrigue.

He listens to how you barely mumble some songs.

“¿Quién es ella?” He asks at the song.

“Nelly Furtado” you reply, concentrating on his hands, starting to draw the fake wounds. Promiscuous was a great song to feel empowered while trying to beat the feelings for the man who was extremely close to you.

Some minutes passed and then Madonna came with Dress You Up and Enzo barely got it right. You sing very low and he tries to hear you with precision.

“¿Y esta?” You ask him when gorgeous started.

and God, that damn song was like a curse and blessing at that very moment.

You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much

(I hate you so much)

You've ruined my life, by not being mine

You're so gorgeous

I can’t say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

That was you. That was how much you hated your feelings for him. Because he would never be yours.

And somehow, Enzo got the message. He wasn’t sure but he felt how you changed the way of singing and avoided his eyes.

“¿Y esa quién es?” He asked once again.

“Esa es Taylor Swift”

“No la conozco” you giggle, ignoring the song a little bit.

“¡Enzo, por Dios!. ¿En qué mundo vives?” You found it very hard to believe he didn’t know half of your musical taste.

“Pues en Uruguay…” for the first time, he makes you laugh and talks to you so fucking much that you have to stop spreading the fake dirt on his face.

You're gorgeous

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad

You’re so gorgeous

“¿Por qué nunca sales con nosotros?” He asks suddenly, and it takes you aback. That you end up looking straight at his face.

“Tú tampoco sales, prefieres quedarte en el cerro” he laughs, feeling a little too comfortable under your touch on his cheeks and chin.

“He salido dos veces con ellos. ¿Y vos? Cero…”

“Estoy ocupada.” You simply reply.

“No es cierto. Por ahí me dijeron que te la pasas viendo películas y escribiendo fanfiction” you blush, but you keep working.

Actually, last Saturday was the first weekend you cried because of him. You couldn’t even stay at a local bar. You left your friends there to go home. New addition to your routine.

“Maybe… ¿pero a ti qué si no voy?” You ask giggling, hoping he would drop the issue. You pause the music and slip your phone inside your bag before returning to him. Scared of his possible answer.

“Pues… porque te quiero ver” your hands start shaking.

“¿A mí?”

“Si. A ti, linda” he senses how taken aback you are. And he realized, that he had adapted some of your slang words from all the time he spent with you.

“¿Por qué yo, Enzo?” He smiles, and you want to kill him. He made the gesture like you had been so oblivious for ages.

“Porque…” slowly, he grabbed your wrist, preventing you from keeping working on his face. He touches you with such gentleness that it makes you finally start shaking.

The way he looks at you. It must’ve been a dream, two pairs of eyes deeply connected. He was silently revealing he liked you. Once you get it, you shake your head, his eyes giving you some confirmation.

“No..” You brush away from him.

“Si… tal vez suene raro o no me creas… pero, vos me gustas. Por eso quiero verte y busco tus bonitos ojos cada vez que trabajas conmigo…” you sigh, dropping the brush and paint a little too violent.

“¿Y por qué yo entre tantas diosas que están a tus pies?” You are fighting against the tears already forming on your eyes. He remains quiet, and to you… that’s an answer.

He doesn’t like the way you are being too negative. But you don’t like having that conversation at all. You are shocked, and you don’t feel in love at that moment. You feel panic and stress.

“Fui al bar el sábado pasado y te vi con la chica rubia. Si te gusta alguien no dejas a la chica rubia hacer ni un movimiento. No te encuentras en redes a las chicas a las que les das reacciones” maybe you had no right to be so angered. But it had been two months, and everything had worsened. At that point, your eyes were already red and crystallized.

“Nada de eso significó algo”

“Si fue algo. Fue tu cuarteada en lo que buscabas la manera de acercarte a mí. Por si no te resultaba la cosa conmigo…” again, he remains quiet.

“This is bullshit. Mira Enzo, he estado aquí desde hace dos meses y nunca te acercaste. No te salió el amor por mí hoy” you spit with anger, grabbing your paint and makeup, hurrying to get out of there.

“Me has gustado desde la primera semana cuando te conocí. Pero tú no me quieres, y por eso te evado. Aparte del dilema de nuestra age gap, que podría ser un problema” you explain putting your coat on and grabbing the bag.

“Y eres una persona hermosa, Enzo. Sé que eres el amigo y novio perfecto. Pero mi intuición me dice que me vas a lastimar” he steps between you and the door. The proximity worsens everything, he wants to end it all for once with a kiss to make you feel the way he does.

It was already difficult for him. He had felt slightly depressed while filming, he felt weird, in company but alone at the same time. And he believed you were the right burst of sunshine to lighten his weird mood swings.

But you believed he was lying. He honestly felt hurt that you were mistaking him for some womaniser and asshole.

“No te vayas, por favor” he pleaded, shocked to see your teary eyes. So he started questioning what you said about being hurt.

“Ya acabamos, no te preocupes.” You manage to slip beside him, opening the door and leaving him alone.

The dramatic moment culminated in Enzo feeling more depressed and giving a sadder performance for the movie. For you, it gave you a reason to cry in the shower and stare at the balcony of your place for hours, contemplating the sky and feeling so damn weird.

…

You have flashbacks of seeing him laughing and letting the blonde girl at the bar whisper in his ear. His honest smile and how he admitted he liked you a day ago.

You wished for weeks, now months that he confessed his feelings for you. But the moment he does, it feels wrong. Like it wasn’t meant to happen. Because he’s older, he’s got more experience, he had a very extended long-term girlfriend once, he is too much unlike you.

Maybe it wasn’t meant to happen and this is how it was supposed to end.

With you bursting out in tears and anger. Him believing you were crazy, but you had a point.

He never made a move. Just trying to talk, but he never invited you to do anything with him, or just to stay with him during the free days. It seemed unreal that suddenly he liked you.

And maybe you’re just scared of falling in love, because he could unintentionally but potentially break your heart.

Nonetheless, on the second day you want to distract yourself, it’s Saturday again and you go out alone to jog, then to buy some new clothes and you are about to prepare your dinner when the pain in the ass of Juani asks you to go out for some tapas.

You agree because you really need to distract yourself from thinking about the whole cringy issue with Enzo.

Probably everyone in the production already knew. But you would shut your mouth just to let the rumours die.

You start your walk towards the restaurant when he sends you the location. It’s a few blocks away, and you frown when you see what type of restaurant it is.

“amiguito, pero creí que querías tapas. Este es un restaurante vegano” you send him a voice message. And he replies immediately.

“Ay pues para ser fitness un día nada más, chica. ¿Ya vas para allá?” You roll your eyes, not that you didn’t like vegan food but you wanted tapas.

“Si, morro meco. Ya estoy a un par de cuadras” you send back, putting on your EarPods and route.

You realise how much you like wearing sneakers, long dresses and coats with matching purses. Perfect for the weather and your silly thoughts of walking on the streets along some cool music playing in the background.

Until you arrive at the restaurant and you don’t spot Juani. But maybe he was on his way. So you order first, grilled tofu with vegetables and tangy sauce.

It’s a cute place, and by the time you find a table, it’s already dark. The restaurant has candles everywhere and quality music playing.

When you start closing your purse, you look up and you freeze. Because you see Enzo entering the place, with a tiny bouquet of flowers on his right hand and a water bottle on the other.

He was wearing jeans, a random buttoned shirt and dark sunglasses.

Oh, fuck him. Of course he knew he looked gorgeous.

Quickly you change from your seat, giving your back to him, hopefully becoming invisible.

Your fingers rush to find the contact of Juani and send him a violent voice message.

“Oye, ¿por qué carajo no has llegado? ¿Y por qué Enzo Vogrincic está viendo el menú ahora mismo?” You send and he starts writing.

“Es que él es vegano…” he writes in text, which boils your blood.

“¿Y eso a mí qué chingados me importa, Juani? Ven ya y sácame a escondidas o te juro que me voy a colgar del primer poste de luz que vea” you silently scream, lowering your voice.

“No puedo” that’s it, you’re going to die in a vegan restaurant while Enzo Vogrincic orders food.

You are about to stand up when he literally appears on your table.

Qué hijo de puta, y todavía te sonríe y todo.

“¿Y el Juani ya viene o no?” You ask, trying to sound confident.

“De hecho no va a venir” right, pinche Juani idiota, qué gran amigo y todo.

“That’s it. I’m leaving!” You mumble sighing, standing up from the table, when Enzo grabs your forearm and makes you sit again.

“No, vos te quedas. Mira, te traje estas” he hands you the flowers, yellow tulips.

“Yo nunca le he dicho a Juani… ni a Matías cuáles son mis flores favoritas” you frown confused, grabbing them.

They’re beautiful.

“Tuve que buscar por mi cuenta” he admits, and you frown deeper. Until you open your eyes in shock.

“¿Me zorreraste mi Instagram?” Enzo starts laughing, and you blush. He takes a seat and drops the receipt of his order on the table. You read it, chickpea pasta with arrabiata sauce and zucchini.

You read his order just to avoid looking at his eyes.

“Dejáme explicar todo…” slowly, you look at him. You are still on time to ask for the food to be to go, you can leave and just let this strange issue wash away.

But a waitress appears with your tofu and the pasta. You awkwardly smile and say thank you as well as Enzo.

“Pues ya que…” he smiles, thinking your eyeliner was so perfect. Your dress was cute and the coat made you look elegant and fine.

“Vos sabes quién te engañó. Le pedí que te hiciera venir a un lugar para encontrarme” your roll your eyes. Unbelievable how childish was the whole situation.

“Yo quería tapas”

“Dale, ahorita te llevo por tapas” Enzo says with a giggle. You simply mock him with a gesture and proceed to eat.

“Lamento no haberte dado señales desde el inicio. Creí que con hacerle plática cuando me maquillabas era suficiente.” He confesses.

“Con todos sos un amor. Y conmigo… siempre seria y pues… llegué a pesar que no te agradaba” you shrug, eyebrows rising and avoiding his eyes once again.

“Todo lo contrario…” you admit.

“Ya veo. Entonces hace unas semanas, los chicos empezaron a sacar el tema. Que debía invitarte a salir o hacerte venir con nosotros a comer para ahí verte”

“Y ayer me atreví. Pero temo que tu reacción no fue la que buscaba” he says with many pauses, not wanting to disturb you.

“Tú declaración tampoco fue lo que esperaba.” He nods, calming you.

“Ya lo sé, hubiera sido mejor esperar a estar en un lugar… como este”

“Quizá” you reason with him.

“Incluso desde antes de admitir que vos me gustas, no me he visto con nadie. Así que solo sos tú… nadie más” you nod, looking back at the tulips.

“Están preciosas, gracias” you say lifting the boquete. Enzo smiles. So you know it’s time, you sigh.

“Yo también lo siento por juzgarte sin saber. No tenía derecho de ponerme celosa, ni nada. Es solo que me da miedo dejar que esto, fluya…” you say, not wanting to repeat once again that your intuition said he would break your heart.

“No te voy a lastimar, nunca. Dejáme quererte, linda. Por favor….” he pleads, accepting he was nervous and desperate. He really longed for someone in the upside down moments of his days.

“Yo solo quiero sentir lealtad, confianza, pasión y seguridad. ¿Me puedes dar eso?”

“Te voy a dar todo, pero más lo que vos quieras. Y si lealtad, confianza, pasión y seguridad es lo que querés…. Así será, linda” you smile, finding his hand on top of the table, intertwining your fingers with him.

“Entonces todo bien, lindo” he smiles more, ending in a sweet laugh.

He helps you pick the rest of the food, both of you also order ice cream cones. Him with chocolate and you with pistachios. And soon both of you are walking together in the streets. Spring is near and it’s your favourite season. You feel happy feeling his warm touch outside of the job. And now being inches away from him feels like a new home.

“¿Si vamos a ir por las tapas?” He starts laughing again, and when he leans, you can feel what’s coming.

“Te voy a besar…” he warns before grabbing your cheeks and smashing his lips with yours.

“Te quiero” he spills, and you only smile on his lips, deepening the kiss. Feeling the silly butterflies in your stomach and intense tears of happiness. You almost drop your cone due to that.

“Yo también te quiero” you reply, swiftly bumping your forehead with him. He then takes your hand and suddenly you don’t feel wrong about it.

Now it feels perfect. Like destiny changed and finally it was meant to be.

#enzo vogrincic #la sociedad de la nieve #the society of the snow #perdón chingado #si no etiqueto la movie como hago que esto lo vean duh #enzo vogrincic x reader

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cupid-styles · 3 months

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late night talking 2

here is the long awaited part two to late night talking (aka cam girl!yn and nerdrry)!!!! I v much hope you guys like this part as much as you liked the first :)))) enjoy!

read part one here

word count: 7.5k

content warnings: smut (oral - f receiving, fingering, dirty talk, riding, mentions of squirting, size kink, daddy kink, mentions of sex toys and bondage, minor edging)

patreon

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

If Harry were to describe the joy he feels when listening to Y/N discuss her day with him over the phone, he's sure he would never shut up.

At first, he'd been nervous about what they would talk about. Did she expect them to have dirty, filth-filled conversations? What if she charged him for it? Harry would undoubtedly shell out the money, too embarrassed to explain he had different expectations, but it's not what he wanted — not by a long-shot.

Admittedly, the first five or 10 minutes had been rocky. After chatting exclusively through direct messaging on Y/N's cam site, it was a little difficult to get used to transferring those conversations to the phone. She was used to relying on witty jokes with emojis, he was accustomed to having more time to thoughtfully write out responses. Talking one-on-one limited both of those things, ridding them of their comfort blankets. But once the ice melted, names were exchanged, and Y/N's breathy giggle sounded through the receiver, Harry was a goner.

"Wait, so how is it that we live in the same city?" Harry questions as he pulls at a loose thread on one of the throw pillows on his couch. "The odds of that are like... slim to none."

"Well, you'd know, you have a degree in computer science," Y/N replies teasingly. "I'm pretty sure the homepage tries to cater to your location. It's kind of weird and freaky if you think about it for too long."

"That's... kind of horrifying."

She hums, "I know. But if I hide my feed from the homepage, I'd have to solely rely on my regulars."

Harry doesn't want to be a dick so he doesn't say anything in response, but he wishes she could. He despises the fact that there are local creeps watching her every night, even if that includes him. Quickly, he tries to shove down his possessive nature, knowing he doesn't quite have anything to be jealous of — she's her own person.

"Don't worry, I have a baseball bat by the door." she jokes, but it doesn't land the way she intends. Her mouth twists into a wince when Harry remains silent on the other side.

"Just want you to be safe, hm?" he says gently, "I know you can take care of yourself, but... you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Are you trying to say that you care about me?"

He huffs, a surprised puff of air leaving his lungs.

"Yes," he finally forces out, anxiety beginning to claw at his insides, "Of course I do."

A beat. The nerves have grown nasty fangs and nails, but then—

"I care about you, too."

Harry has to squeeze the pillow so a girlish squeak doesn't escape his mouth.

. . .

From: Y/N🎀

my boss made me stay late today so I don't think ill make it home for our 6 pm phone call :( can I call you later?

Harry tries not to pout as his eyes scan over Y/N's text for a second time. Ever since their initial phone call a few weeks ago, they unintentionally set up a daily schedule where they'd chat as soon as she got home from work. Usually, they spoke up until she started her stream, but she took Fridays off since there weren't as many people logging on to watch. All day, he had been looking forward to getting her for a few hours without any interruptions.

(She often keeps him on the phone as she eats dinner or picks out a lacy set of lingerie. The latter makes him feel special, like he has some sort of behind-the-scenes look of what happens prior to her logging on. It also happens to thicken up his cock a fair amount.)

To: Y/N🎀

I'm sorry he's doing that to you on a Friday. You're right, he's a dick.

Call me whenever you're able. I'll be around.

In an ideal world, maybe Harry could pick them up some dinner and he could meet her at the office, so she could eat while she finished work. Or, he could even take her out to a nice restaurant after — but beyond the very obvious restrictions of their relationship (or maybe it was just a friendship with virtual benefits?), Harry was deeply insecure. They were both lonely people, he knew, and they were simply reaping the benefits until someone better came along for her.

His phone buzzes, ripping him from his self-deprecating thoughts: thank you<3 you're the sweetest, staying in on a friday just so you can talk to little old me!!! x

A snort leaves him. He can't remember the last time he had actual social plans that involved leaving the house on the weekend. Friday nights were almost always reserved for playing video games with his friends, baking a new recipe he found on Pinterest, or, that one time where he tried to teach himself how to knit a little sweater for Beatrice.

(It went terribly and Beatrice ended up having more fun with the ball of yarn anyway.)

The thing is, Harry knows he's a nerd. He's pretty much the picture of a dorky, grown-up introvert, with his thick-rimmed glasses, computer engineering job, cat, and pathetically lonely social life. How on earth could Y/N not see that?

(Maybe she does, and she's just taking advantage of him. He doesn't foresee that being a possibility, but his anxious insecurities take him there every now and then.)

He spends his time moseying around his apartment while he waits for her to get home. By the time he's done baking espresso brownies and tidying up the kitchen, making sure to place the tray high enough so Beatrice can't get into them, he hears his phone vibrating on the countertop. A jolt of energy and happiness zips through him when he sees her name splayed across his screen, immediately pressing answer and putting her on speaker.

"Hiiii," she sings into the receiver, and he can already tell she's traipsing around her own home, "You picked up fast."

"Told you I'd be around whenever you wanted to talk."

"You're too good to me," she says, though he has to lower the phone the second he hears noisy crunching on the other line, "Sorry, I literally just got in. I'm eating Cheetos for dinner."

"I thought you were gonna order in from that new stir fry place," Harry replies, thinking back to her mulling over the idea last night.

"I was, but then I had to work until 7 pm, which meant I didn't get home until... what time is it? Oh, it's already 8:15! There goes my entire Friday night!"

He smiles gently at her dramatics, though he understands. "You can still order, babe. They don't close until 10."

"But I just opened this bag of Cheetos."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. "You can use one of those handy clips to close it so they don't go stale."

"I don't have any of those."

Harry shakes his head as his eyes scan over the small bowl of them on his kitchen countertop.

"Put the Cheetos down, Y/N. Order the stir fry. You deserve it."

A sigh passes through her lips. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. You had the longest week and you just had to work after hours on a Friday."

"Alright, fine."

He hears the light tapping of her fingers against the phone screen, which only leads him to believe that she's actually doing what he's requested of her for once. He busies himself with cozying up on the couch, throwing a blanket over his lap as Beatrice jumps up onto the cushion next to him.

"Okay, done," she says a few moments later. "So, speaking of deserving things. I got you something."

"You got me something?" Harry asks with furrowed brows.

"Mhmm. I saw it online and wanted you to have it— well, it's for both of us, actually, but that's besides the fact. Anyway, I need your address so I can send it to you."

Harry's brain begins to glow with possibilities, completely unsure of what she could possibly have gotten him.

"Is this just an excuse to stalk me?" he jokes, making her snort.

"No, Harry. Send me your address, please. It's a present."

He quickly removes the phone from his ear, pressing the speaker button and opening up their text thread.

"Fine, I'm sending it to you now," he murmurs, typing out his address, "But it better not be something weird."

Y/N snorts and for a moment, it's quiet. Harry's used to silent lulls in their conversations, especially because they'll sometimes be on the phone together for hours. He occupies himself with gently petting Beatrice's coat, making a mental note to brush her orange fur out after they hang up tonight.

"Harry?"

Y/N's voice rings softly through the receiver. Focused on scratching the top of Beatrice's head, he lets out a distracted hum, assuming she's just making sure he's still there.

"We live 10 minutes from each other."

It takes him a moment to digest what she's just told him. At first, he thinks it's a joke. There's no way the girl he's been watching every night for the past few months lives so close to him. But when she doesn't follow it up with a "just kidding!", he realizes she may be telling the truth.

"What?" he finally chokes out, his posture straightening slightly. Could they have run into each other without evening noticing it? Passing by one another on a busy street, Y/N walking home from work while Harry stops at the grocery store?

"Yeah," she breathes out in disbelief, "You live on Beekman, right? I'm three streets over."

"This is insane," he blurts out. "You're not messing with me?"

"I wouldn't do that."

Harry's unsure if the conversation has taken a turn of shock or tension. There's an obvious question lingering between them, but he's too scared to bring it up. He's too scared to even think about it.

Meeting in person... it seemed like something they'd never get close to doing. Harry was never positive about where their dynamic would lead, but in the back of his head, he did fret about the lack of endgame. He assumed she would get bored of him one day — why wouldn't she, when she's this gorgeous, fun, care-free person, and he's the complete opposite?

"Are you okay?"

Her question rips him from his cycling thoughts. Beatrice climbs into his lap, absorbing the anxiety radiating from his chest. He clears his throat.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm just... that's crazy."

"It is," she agrees. "I guess... well, if you're comfortable with it, maybe I could bring you your gift sometime. Instead of mailing it."

Harry and Y/N both know that this discussion is no longer about whatever thing she bought with him in mind. It's a proposal — a leap of faith that she's leaving in Harry's court, allowing him to call the shots. It's a terrifying place to be.

"Would you want that?" he asks breathily, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"I would," she replies almost instantly. "But only if you want that."

She's making the jump, and she's doing it whether he's ballsy enough or not. If he says no, she'll continue living her life as the happy-go-lucky person she is. It's scary — it's so, so scary for him, because for once, he doesn't know how things will end up. He can't calculate the answer. He can't premeditate or plan it out.

But maybe she's worth it. So he jumps, too.

"Are you free tomorrow?"

. . .

Y/N thinks she may throw up.

She's contemplated every excuse to get out of tonight — not because she doesn't want to meet Harry, but because she's never, ever done this before. It's entirely out of her comfort zone, understandably. Was she being insane, meeting up with one of her subscribers? She doesn't think Harry gives off serial killer vibes, and he's more than just someone subscribed to her stream, but was it possible that he would put in months of work, talking to her on the phone every day and listening to her chatter on and on about her day, just to do something awful?

What if he expected... more? From her, not just physically, but as a person, too. They still haven't revealed their faces to one another, so she knows tonight is bound to be a lot. Which brings her back to her previous point: Was there an excuse she could blurt out to cancel?

She thinks about it all day, barely getting any work done. Though she and Harry typically exchange far more texts during the day, the tension and nervousness between them both is apparent. He messaged her good morning and they spoke a bit when she got to work, but neither of them seemed as talkative as usual.

Finally, when it's time to head home, she's somewhat relying on Sam to ask her to stay back and work later — but of course, the one day that she wants him to, he left early, calling an end to his day hours ago. With a grumble, Y/N begins the short trek back to her place.

Last night, when she was apparently much higher on courage, she and Harry had decided that 7 would be a good time to meet up. He offered to go to hers if it made it more comfortable, or even getting dinner or something in public. Y/N appreciated it, but she didn't find it necessary — she wanted to be able to leave at a moment's notice if she needed to, plus, on the bright side, she really wanted to meet his cat, Beatrice.

When she gets home, she has 30 minutes before she has to be over at his. She decides to change her outfit, nitpicking at her wardrobe and figuring out what's the best way to say, "I've really enjoyed our virtual conversations over the past few months and I have a crush on you, but maybe not because we've never met before. Also, if you could just forget how we *technically* met so we could attempt to have a real shot at a relationship, maybe, that could be cool."

Sighing, she lays back against her bed. This is crazy, right?

This has to be crazy.

. . .

Harry thinks he may have lost any and all inklings of sanity.

"Beatrice, is this crazy?" he wonders aloud to his snuggly cat. She's currently tucked into her favorite corner of the couch, nuzzling the pink sherpa blanket his mom bought him for Christmas last year.

He logged off from work an hour early today to give him some time to clean up his apartment, wanting to make sure it was spotless for Y/N. They halfway decided that they'd eat dinner together, but he wasn't sure if she had any dietary preferences or allergies, so he figured getting take-out from the local Chinese place they both like would be the best option. (How awful would that be, if he tried to cook her a romantic meal and instead gave her an allergic reaction? Harry shudders at the mere thought of it.)

He spends far too long standing in front of his closet with a sleepy Beatrice in his arms, trying to figure out the best outfit to wear. Typically, he's in a pair of sweats or athletic shorts at this time, but that felt too casual.

"What about these?" he asks Beatrice, grabbing a pair of his favorite mustard yellow trousers. "You're right, they're too much. We want to appear cool. Right?"

She simply meows in response.

He hands are shaking when his phone dings, signifying an incoming text from Y/N: on my way!! see you soon :). He lets out a nervous yelp, pulling at his hair as he throws himself into his closet. Based on what she told him last night about living close by, she'll be here in around 10 minutes, so he settles on a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of loose fitting jeans.

That'll be fine, right?

God, he needs to find someone else to talk to besides himself and his cat.

He's pulling on a pair of his favorite wool socks, haphazardly jogging between the bathroom and his room to finish getting ready. He applies an extra coat of deodorant (just in case!), spritzes on some cologne (his sister got it for him a few years back, she said it seemed like 'his scent', whatever that meant), and runs a hand through his messy curls, trying to make his hair look sort of styled. To this day, he's not really sure how to style it, instead just letting it air dry every time he showers.

His eye catches the time as he traipses back downstairs. It's 6:58. He wonders if she'll be early or late. What if she doesn't come at all? What if she just decides to stand him up, because... because this is insane. This is insane behavior.

And then... his phone dings.

here i think!! sorry im really bad w directions and I walked here lol

. . .

Every single part of her anxious brain is telling Y/N to turn around and go back home. This a terrible idea, she frets, picking at her nails and swallowing tightly, Turn around. Turn around, turn around, turn around—

"Y/N?"

Her head snaps up. In complete honesty, she assumed she was standing in front of the wrong townhouse — she really is bad with directions, so she's slightly shocked when the door in front of her opens, revealing a very attractive man.

"Harry...?" Y/N asks, testing out the way it feels to call him his name in person. With a slightly bashful facial expression, he nods.

"Do you— did you want to come in?"

She nods, suddenly feeling how cold the evening is. The later hour brought a chill to the air, one that feels like it has a promise of snow. She hopes she's wrong since she really doesn't want to walk home in freezing temperatures, but thoughts of the weather are ripped from her mind the second Harry politely guides her in.

She toes her boots off at the entryway, gently placing them next to his own pair of Adidas sneakers. She can feel him behind her, only because the front hall is too small for someone to pass by — but if she's being honest, she doesn't think she minds his hovering warmth. All she wants to do is turn around and analyze him.

She doesn't know what to do — she's being awkward, they both are — so she turns around, not wanting to just welcome herself into his home.

It turns out, he's far closer than she had originally anticipated. Nearly bumping into his chest, she gasps in surprise, lifting a hand to her heart like she's an actress in a bad scary movie. It makes Harry chuckle breathily, melting the ice ever so slightly.

"You alright?" he asks, "Sorry, it's a bit small in here. It's just me and Beatrice, so I don't need much room."

"Beatrice!" Y/N remembers with wide eyes. "Where is she?"

Harry hums, taking the opportunity to brush past Y/N. She swallows, inhaling his spicy vanilla scent in his wake. It sends an involuntary shiver down her spine as she follows him to the living room.

"Here she is," he coos, scooping her up from the floor and into his arms. Y/N's heart warms at the sight of a tall, attractive man holding a sweet kitten. "She's been very lethargic all day. Think she likes the winter just 'cos she gets more snuggles out of it."

"'s cute," she mumbles, biting her lip. Her eyes flicker to Harry's face. She seems to be more enamored by his appearance than hers. She wasn't expecting him by any means to fall to his knees and praise her for her beauty, and supposes it makes sense considering he's seen far more of her than she's seen of him. She's somewhat lost in those thoughts when she accidentally blurts the words out, her eyes going wide:

"You're cute."

Harry glances up, his cheeks glowing a pink hue almost immediately. "Sorry?"

Well, can't back down now, she thinks to herself. Swallowing, she forces her mouth to form around the words again. "You're cute," she repeats. "Sorry. That just kind of came out. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, this is just.... y'know, the first time I'm seeing you."

He clears his throat and bites his bottom lip, almost as if he's trying to hide a smile creeping at the edges of his lips.

"I think you're beautiful," he says softly, and the compliment makes her heart glow in her chest, "I didn't want to mention anything about appearances, 'cos I know maybe you were expecting someone different, but—"

"What do you mean?" she asks with furrowed brows. "I didn't have any expectations."

"Well, that's good. I guess I just wasn't sure if you were anticipating someone... else."

It takes a second for the words to click in her brain. Then, with a wrinkle between her eyebrows, she reaches out to lightly grasp at his elbow, willing his attention to shift from Beatrice to her.

"Harry, do you not find yourself attractive?"

It's a loaded question for any other first-time-meet-up, but at this point in their relationship, they've divulged a ton of information. She doesn't necessarily feel like much is off limits anymore.

Harry shrugs, mentally weighing his answer. "I mean, I think I'm just... fine."

"Fine?" Y/N repeats. "I'm not bullshitting you and I'm sorry if this makes you feel weird, but you're one of the most attractive men I've ever met."

He scoffs, allowing Beatrice to jump out of his arms. She leaps down to the floor, as if she's also feeling the intensity of the conversation and wants to be as far away from it as possible. With his hands now free, he sits down on the edge of his blue L-shaped couch, Y/N following suit. She sits across from him, watching as he wrings his hands together in his lap.

"I feel like that's probably a lie, you—"

"I told you I'm not bullshitting you."

Her response makes him laugh softly. "Yeah, but your whole career is based on, like... being attractive. I mean, look at you — you've definitely met more good looking people than me."

"Do you think I often meet up with people I meet from my streams?" Y/N asks, tilting her head to the side with a mocking smile. He knows she doesn't, because they discussed this multiple times before. "I don't know anyone in real life. Not from there, at least. You're the only one."

Harry shrugs his shoulders. "I guess it's just a little surprising."

"There's nothing to be surprised about," she reassures him gently. In an act of courage, she doesn't think much before her hand lands on his knee, giving it a light squeeze. "I want to be here. With you. I care about you."

A smile curls at the edges of his lips.

"So," she says, leaning back against the plushy cushions of his couch, "What were you thinking for dinner?"

. . .

Once the awkward tension melts between the two, it's as if they've known each other forever.

They order food and talk about everything and anything while Friends plays quietly in the background. Secretly, Y/N is over the moon — she never could have imagined things going this well between them.

It's only when she yawns loudly, feeling exhaustion begin to seep into her bones that she realizes how late it is. When she glances at her phone to check the time, her eyes bulge.

"Harry! It's 1 am, you should've kicked me out ages ago!" she exclaims, sitting up. With furrowed brows and puffy, sleepy eyes, he turns to look at her.

"Didn't even realize it was that late," he mumbles, suppressing a yawn of his own. "By the way, I would never kick you out."

She shakes her head with a small smile and rises from the couch. "C'mon, walk me out."

He nods and follows her out of the living room, back down to the hallway where she left her coat and shoes. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his hip against the wall, watching as she gets ready to leave. He wishes there was a way he could ask her to stay.

"Text me when you get home, alright?" he says lowly. Once she fits her boots over her feet, she straightens, nodding her head.

"I will," she murmurs. She can't help it when her eyes quickly flit down to his lips, a zip of anxiety firing through her chest. She so badly wants to kiss him. And, as if they're both elongating their goodbyes, he clears his throat before toeing his own shoes on.

"I'll walk you to your car."

"Oh, I walked here," she replies, stuffing her arms into her navy puffer jacket.

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "You walked?"

"Yeah, of course. We're only, like, 10 minutes away from each other, you know."

"Babe..." Harry sighs, the pet name nearly making her drool, "Didn't you see there's a huge snowstorm slated for tonight? They predicted a few inches by midnight."

Y/N's eyes widen. "Really?"

He laughs lightly before nodding his head. He gingerly wraps his hand around the doorknob to the front door, pulling it open just enough to where Y/N can see massive snowflakes falling from puffy clouds above. It's freezing, a cold chill making her shudder just from the quick peek outside.

"Fuck." she mutters, pulling her jacket closer to her body.

"Stay," he blurts out, glancing down at her shorter stature. "I... you can sleep in my bed and I'll sleep down here. I just don't want you going out in that. It's late."

The nerves are apparent in his shaky voice, but nonetheless, Y/N's nodding her head before he even finishes what he's saying.

"Okay." she breathes. "Can I borrow some pajamas?"

"Yeah, of course."

She follows him up to his bedroom, where he pulls a pair of sweatpants and a vintage tee-shirt out from his dresser. The room is clean, unsurprisingly so — if she's learned anything about Harry tonight, it's that he takes good care of his space, which she considers to be a great trait. His bed is made, his nightstand free from dust and only donning one of those fancy sunrise alarm clocks and a reusable water bottle.

He hands them to her, "I'll give you some privacy."

She nods with a small smile, murmuring out a thank you. Once he shuts the door behind him, she quickly sheds her own clothing and folds it neatly before pulling on his clothes. A moment or so later, he knocks politely, waiting for her to let him know if it's okay to come in.

"You're good," she calls out. He twists the doorknob open and stands in the entryway with a spare pillow and blanket tucked beneath his arm.

"I'm gonna change and head downstairs, but let me know if you need anything."

They stand there, looking at one another as if they're waiting for the other to say what's on both of their minds. When the silence remains, he flashes her a tight smile and turns around.

"Wait!" she exclaims, mentally cringing at the high-pitched tone of her voice. "Will you stay for a bit?"

Harry's shoulders visibly deflate. Once again, he bites his lip, as if he's trying to hide a smile.

"Yeah. I can stay."

They move silently but it's like they've performed this dance a million times before. She watches as he peels back the blankets on his bed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He turns the light off before smoothing over the cotton sheets, as if he's making sure they're suitable for her to lay in.

"Lemme just throw some sweats on," he mumbles, striding over to his dresser, "Get comfortable, okay?"

He excuses himself to the bathroom, where he slowly undresses himself and pulls on a cozy pair of sweatpants. He typically sleeps naked or just in a pair of briefs, but he would never even dream of doing anything remotely like that with Y/N in his bed.

Fuck. Y/N's in his bed.

He swallows tightly and tries to ward off the anxiety bubbling in his chest, taking time to wash his face and brush his teeth. When he's elongated the process enough, he returns to the bedroom to find her laying down and curled up in his blankets. It's almost as if she knew what side Harry typically sleeps on, opting for the one that's always empty.

"Are you comfortable?" Harry asks quietly as he moves through the dark, dumping his clothes from today in the hamper. She hums softly, a pretty sound that makes his length jump in his sweatpants.

"Your bed is nice." she murmurs. He chuckles and gets in next to her, leaving enough space between them so he doesn't crowd her space.

"I'm glad you think so. Want you to sleep well tonight."

Despite the exhaustion permeating from both of their bodies, Y/N finds it difficult to get completely comfortable, to the point where she could fall asleep. She can't help the excitement buzzing in her bones from being next to Harry — her fleetwoodlondon tipper.

"Are you still awake?" she whispers.

He doesn't answer immediately, which leads her to believe he's already fallen asleep. But then, he shifts onto his side, tucking his hands beneath his cheek to face her. "Mhm. What's wrong?"

She shrugs. "Nothing. Just not sleepy enough yet."

"Do you want me to talk to you about computer engineering? That'll knock you out in seconds."

She giggles, flipping onto her side and mimicking his position. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she assesses his features in the darkness of his bedroom — the slope of his nose, his two slightly overlapped front teeth, the dull sharpness of his cheekbones.

"No, but you can talk to me about other stuff."

"Hmm," he says, placing his hand down against the mattress between them. Instinctively, she reaches out to intertwine their fingers together. His heart speeds up. "What was that gift you were supposed to give me tonight?"

Her cheeks redden and she's grateful he can't see the nervousness that pops up on her face.

"It's not important." she rushes out.

"That's not an answer," he sing-songs, giving her hand a squeeze, "C'mon, tell me."

"It's embarrassing now."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Embarrassing?"

She nods.

"How so?"

"Well... it was more so for when we didn't know we lived close to each other. Before we decided to meet in person."

"Okay...?"

"I got us Bluetooth sex toys." she blurts out with a warm face. The heat from her shame travels down the length of her body, making her sweat beneath his gaze. "Um, I got a cock ring for you and a vibrator for me. So we could control them for each other. I bough them the day after you, um, told me what to do on my stream. It's stupid now, and I'm sorry if that's crossing a huge boundary since I know we haven't done anything like that in a month, so maybe you've changed your mind—"

"I haven't changed my mind." he cuts her off. "I still watch every one of your streams."

She swallows harshly. "Really?"

"I never miss one," he admits. "And the fact that you thought of me like that and... got us those is... it's really hot, Y/N."

Her core throbs. It's the first time she's heard him talk like this not over text or private messaging. She squeezes her thighs together as she bites on her bottom lip, attempting to slow her breathing to a normal pace.

"You think so?" she breathes.

"Yeah."

Even without a single light on in his bedroom, she can feel his intense gaze on her. Unhurriedly, she moves her leg closer to his, wiggling it to fit between his thighs. He welcomes her touch without a word.

"I really liked when you dominated me that night," she whispers. Perhaps it's a confession that doesn't need to be verbalized — he knows she adored it not only because she asked for it, but because she came in record time, too. Since that evening, he hasn't stopped thinking how he watched her hole clench around her fingers because of him. She moaned his name — or rather, his honorific — over and over again. Every time he's gone to jerk off without watching her stream, it's all he's needed to think about, blurts of cum spraying his stomach not a few minutes later.

"I liked doing it." he murmurs. She begins to move her foot up and down the length of his calf, the feeling of her soft skin making him shiver.

"What else did you like?"

The tip of his tongue peeks out to lick over his lips. What a loaded question — he likes just about everything she does, but that was a guaranteed cop-out of an answer.

"I liked hearing you call me daddy," he confesses lowly. "Liked watching you. Thought about you bouncing on my cock and finishing that way."

She hums, closing the distance between them without even realizing it. Their chests are pressed up against each other's, her puffy nipples now stiff peaks beneath the soft fabric of his tee-shirt. He can feel himself thickening up steadily, though he's sure he would've gotten hard just by sleeping next to her.

"I think I would let you do just about anything you want to me," she admits, nibbling on her bottom lip, "You turn me on so much... I don't even think you realize it."

He huffs in disbelief, snaking an arm around her waist to gently tug her impossibly closer. He gives her hip a small squeeze as a test — he's been thinking about throwing her around like a doll for months on end, but her comfort is his top priority, always.

"What does 'anything' entail?" he asks. He knows he's asking for trouble now, that there's no returning from this. There's no way that this night won't end with him balls deep inside of her, thrusting his cum into her pussy until she's squealing and pushing him away from overstimulation.

"Well, for starters, you can take me however you want," she says, trailing soft fingertips down his chest. She stops at his abs and he breathes in sharply, willing her to continue her journey downwards. "From behind, me on top... wherever and whenever you want. Don't care if we're in public, either. I'd love to show you off and make sure everyone knows I cum for you."

He groans, head tilting back slightly from her possessive words. "More," he demands gruffly.

"Want you to use all my toys on me... tie me up, press a vibrator to my clit until I can't see straight anymore," her fingers meet his hips, lightly feeling over his cock underneath his sweatpants. "Have you watched the shows where I squirt?"

"Of course I have, pretty baby."

Her chest warms at the nickname. As if it's a reward, her hand dips beneath his sweatpants, gasping in mock surprise when she finds that he's not wearing underwear. Better yet, he's hard and aching for her.

"I have no doubt that I'd squirt for you."

She punctuates her sentence by wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, giving it a cursory squeeze. A short, low groan sounds from his chest before he's grabbing her arm and giving her a sharp look. Alarmed, she quickly removes her hand.

"I'm sorry. Was that too much? Did I misunderstand?"

"Not at all," he mutters, getting up onto his knees. His other hand finds her free wrist, raising both of her arms above her head. She gasps out in surprise. "I just think it's cute that you think after watching you get off for months, you think I wouldn't want first dibs on this pussy."

Y/N giggles, relief flushing through her chest at the knowledge that she didn't do anything wrong. Keeping her arms propped up with one of his large hands, he uses the other to tug her sweatpants down. Just like him, she's decided to go underwear-free this evening.

"You're glistening already. Dripping down to your cute little ass."

His words make her swallow harshly. She knew from that one conversation that he was an expert at dirty talk, but hearing it in person was an entirely different game. One that she surely would never forget.

He uses two of his fingertips to spread her labia, breathing out fiercely at the sight of the strings of arousal. With his fingers in a v-shape, he watches as the pretty ribbons snap each time he moves his digits up and down, issuing a light massage to the skin between her lips and thighs.

"You're so much prettier in person." he murmurs. "I've watched you cum so many times, but... nothing compares to the real thing. You know that, pretty baby?"

A pathetic whimper falls from her swollen lips. "Stop teasing, daddy."

His heart thuds at the name. It's a weak spot, especially hearing it come from her. Watching her hole pulsate around nothing, he decides he wants — no, needs — nothing more than to lean forward and wrap his lips around her pearled clit. Her taste is heady and delicious and he's instantly hooked, especially when she curls her leg around his shoulder, pressing her heel into his back to pull him closer. She moans loudly as he sucks messily, his eyes rolling back when he feels the swollen bundle throb in his mouth.

"So good," she whines, "'s so good daddy, fuck."

He can tell that she needs minimal prep, but his suspicion is only proven right when he pushes a finger inside, her hole immediately sucking him in. He prods at her g-spot, eliciting another mewl from her pretty mouth. He thinks he could cum just from this — from sucking at her clit and fingering her deep inside, feeling her thrash around beneath him as her orgasm builds.

"Fuck— wait, wait," she pants out. Harry instantly stops, removing his hands and mouth from her. He looks up with concerned eyes and she smiles a hazy, gentle grin, pushing her hand through his messy hair. "Can you edge me? I wanna cum on your cock, daddy."

He thinks he may faint on the spot.

"Whatever you want, pretty."

She laughs breezily when he surges forward once more, nudging the tip of his tongue into her wet hole. She gasps as he thrusts it in and out, lifting his free hand to rub circles into her sensitive clit. The sensation of her pussy clenching around the width of his tongue is almost too much to handle for both of them.

He waits for her to tell him when she's almost at the edge, but it doesn't take much more. Soon enough, she's panting and pushing him away, whimpering out that she's nearly there.

"Can I ride you, please?" she nearly begs, her eyes widened and watery, "Please, need to feel you deep inside."

He chuckles at her desperation, sitting up on his heels to thumb at her bottom lip. He pulls it and lets snap back.

"Only if you give me a kiss, baby."

She scrambles onto her knees, billowing forward to press her lips messily to his. It's wet and hot, especially with the heady taste of her arousal on his tongue. He groans when she begins to suck at it, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm as he gives her hip a squeeze. When he breaks their kiss, he presses a quick one to her nose before maneuvering her body so she's straddling his waist. She rolls her hips urgently, his cock spreading her labia deliciously. It's a gorgeous sight — one Harry never wants to forget.

"Put me in." he instructs, folding his hands behind his head.

With shaky hands, she lifts up slightly, granting herself just enough room so she can lower onto his length. The second the tip pops through her tight walls, they're both moaning loudly, her eyes fluttering shut. Harry forces his to stay open so he can memorize the way she looks taking him for the first time.

"Take your time," he murmurs, breaking his dominant persona for a moment, "Don't force yourself, pretty baby. Give yourself a second."

"I can take it," she pouts, grinding down against his pelvic bone. She whimpers, her hand flying to her stomach. "Fuck— fuck, I can feel you in here, daddy."

"Told you, silly girl," he says with a smirk, his hands finding her hips with a squeeze. "Take your time. Don't need you getting hurt."

This time, she listens to him and allows herself a few moments to adjust. Once it doesn't feel like he's punching through to her cervix, she bounces once in experimentation, just to make sure she can really, truly take it.

"Why didn't you ever mention— oh— that you're fucking massive?" she whimpers out as she begins to bounce up and down. He laughs, though it quickly gets cut short when he begins to properly feel the tightness of her pussy.

"Guess it never came up." he mutters through gritted teeth.

His hands remaining on her hips, he helps her maintain her rhythm. He swallows harshly as he watches her breasts jiggle in time with her dropping up and down, never once allowing his cock to shift.

"'m gonna cum soon," she babbles out. As if on cue, Harry feels her hole pulsating around his length, making his eyes roll back.

"Show me," he demands, steadying her hips with his hands. He starts to thrust up into her, watching as her jaw falls slack from the slight but sudden switch in position. "There you go, baby. Take daddy's cock like you were made for it. Cum all over me."

He never doubted it, but god she's good at taking directions. Within a few seconds, she's clenching and coming all over his cock, whiney mewls falling from her lips as her orgasm washes over her. She moans out his honorific repeatedly, just like she did all those months ago. The sight and sound of her sopping wet pussy sucking in his length is enough to send him to his own peak, abs clenching as he fucks up into her, filling her to the brim with his warm come.

"Fuck, take it pretty girl, there you go," he groans loudly.

When each of their orgasms eventually taper off, the only thing that fills the room is the sound of their haphazard breathing. Gently, she lifts off, her hands pressing down against his chest. She feels his mess slowly seeping out of her.

"'m sorry," he runs his hand through his hair, realizing that he finished in her without discussing it. "I should've asked—"

"No, it's fine. I'm on birth control. I wouldn't have wanted you to finish anywhere else." she admits bashfully, her cheeks rosy in a post-orgasm flush. "It's just... uncomfortable once it's over."

"Of course. Let me grab a towel to clean you up."

She nods graciously as she gradually flips onto her back. Harry returns a moment later, wiping his length clean before nestling between her thighs to wash the evidence of their sex away.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbles sleepily. "No one's ever done this for me before."

Harry scoffs. If he wasn't so exhausted, he would have pressed for more details, insisting that this wasn't something worth thanking him for. Instead, he simply tosses the towel in the hamper and gets back underneath the blankets.

"Can we cuddle?" she asks quietly, lifting her head to look at him. He smiles, extending his arm so she can nestle into his side.

"C'mere, pretty."

. . .

The next morning, Harry wakes up with Y/N tucked into his chest. They're still naked, but the warmth of her soft body feels incredible. So much so, that he wonders if he's stuck in some sort of dream.

He realizes it's not when she begins to stir in his arms. When she bats her eyelashes open, her eyes puffy with sleep, she smiles gently.

"Morning."

Harry matches her smile. In a leap of faith, he leans down to press a kiss to her lips. Even after last night's events, he's unsure if this is appropriate. He's not sure if it was supposed to be a one night stand type of situation, but considering she didn't get up in the middle of the night and leave, he entertains the idea that it may be a bit more than that.

"Good morning," he returns, watching as her face glows from his brief kiss. "What time do you have to be at work?"

She groans and it immediately makes him feel guilty. She leans up onto her elbows, the edge of the comforter hiding the peeks of her nipples as she glances at the time. It's already 8:10.

"I'm supposed to be there at 9," she replies, laying back down against the pillows. It looks like the wheels are churning in her head as she mindlessly fits her fingers between his.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmurs lowly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Calling in sick," she admits. "Is it ridiculous that I don't want to leave?"

He chuckles, though a wave of relief washes over him. He had been thinking the same — he wanted to make her breakfast and have him in his bed all day, lean over and pepper kisses all over her face and watch as she wrinkles her nose in that cute way she does.

"Not ridiculous. We've spent months talking to each other, think we deserve some time together," he says, "In fact... if you call out, I'll do it, too."

"Really?" she asks with raised eyebrows.

"Sure. I have weeks of paid time that I've never used."

She grins and nods her head, "Okay. Yeah, that sounds good. Could we hang out all day? Maybe watch some movies and snuggle with Beatrice?"

"That sounds perfect, pretty girl." he replies, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. He sits up and grabs his clothes from the floor, pulling his sweatpants on before he heads down to his home office.

"Wait!" she grabs his arm, pulling gently. He quirks an eyebrow and looks at her expectedly. "Could we... do you think we can maybe use those toys I bought us?"

The warm flush that flowers over her cheeks makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

"Anything you want, baby," he murmurs with a small smile, "Anything you want."

1K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

hi lovely!! if you're comfortable writing something like this, could I maybe request poly!marauders where reader who is normally very independent but gets submissive at times, but not in a sexual way? like she just gets overwhelmed and wants the boys to be in charge for a while, but maybe the relationship is still new and she feels too needy and can't bring herself to tell them and eventually they realize?

again, no worries if you're not comfortable writing this, just thought I'd ask <3

Thank you for requesting gorgeous !

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“This is deeply, atrociously unjust,” Sirius says as James sits down in front of you, him on the floor and you on the couch. He’s wet and fresh-smelling from the shower. “You never let me do your hair.”

“Because you always act like you’re trying to tear it out as some sort of twisted revenge plot,” says James, passing you a brush and the curl cream you and Sirius had found for him. Normally, you adore this routine, the chance to run your fingers through James’ hair and the way his eyes close blissfully while you do it. You love to pamper him. But tonight you’re not really in the mood. You do it because he expects you to, coating his curls in product with your usual tenderness but wishing you were on the receiving end of it instead. “She’s got the touch of an angel.”

Sirius crosses his arms. He’s leaned against the side of the couch, leering over you like a vulture. Remus is reading in the armchair, and though he’s pretending to ignore all of you, the corner of his mouth tilts up.

“Beauty is pain,” Sirius grouses.

“We should start a hair train,” James decides. “She’ll do mine, you can do hers, Remus will do yours, and I’ll do his.”

Sirius seems to be considering this. You lean down towards James’ ear. “You’re throwing me to the wolves,” you stage-whisper.

“It’s you or me, sweetheart.”

Actually, the idea of Sirius playing with your hair—even at the risk of losing a good amount of it—doesn’t sound so awful.

“I can get in the shower right now,” you offer, only half joking.

Sirius lets a grin slip loose, sitting next to you to plant a smacker on your cheek. “Thank you, darling, but that’s alright. You shouldn’t have to atone for his mistakes.”

You return his smile, doing your best to bury your disappointment.

“I didn’t consent to the hair train either,” Remus says without looking up from his book. “There’s a reason James doesn’t do his own hair.”

“Oi,” James objects. “I’ve got admirers fighting over the opportunity to do my hair, why would I do it myself?”

Remus marks his page, flipping the book closed. “What are we having for dinner?” he asks.

“I don’t know, but I’m famished.” James doesn’t miss a beat, latching onto the new topic eagerly. “We could order takeaway?”

“Or just cut out the middleman and go out,” Sirius says. “Unless someone feels like cooking? Which I don’t.”

“We know,” Remus teases. “I don’t either, not tonight.”

“I could if I needed to,” James says, “but I’m alright with whatever gets food in me the fastest.”

They all look to you. “I don’t much feel like cooking,” you add your piece. Your voice comes out quieter than you’d intended.

“Alright,” Remus says. “Then let’s not cook tonight. What do you want to do, love? Go out or stay in?”

You comb the brush slowly through James’ hair, twisting to define his curls. “I don’t know,” you say.

Sirius turns to you, frowning. “Come on, baby.” He bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “What do you feel like having?”

“I don’t know.” You try not to sigh. “Um, can you pick?”

You don’t look up from the top of James’ head, but you can feel them exchanging looks. They’ve all been a little extra gentle with you lately. They know you’re dealing with a lot. Anytime you try to tally it all up and make sense of it in your head, you start feeling like you could cry. Your exhaustion has sunk so deeply within you that it’s seeped into your bloodstream. You think by now there’s got to be traces of it in the marrow of your bones.

“Hey,” Sirius says softly. “Look at me.”

You do, pausing with the brush held aloft over James’ head. He’s got his eyebrows drawn together like he’s trying to figure you out. “I’m sorry,” you say. It’s not your boyfriends’ faults that you’re feeling overwhelmed; you don’t mean to drag them down with you.

“What for, sweetness?” He sets a hand on your thigh, rings biting into your skin as he gives the flesh a loving squeeze. “Just tell us what you need.”

You try to give him a smile. You really do love him. “I want…I don’t know, I guess I’m just tired. I want to not think for a little while.”

Sirius’ eyebrows come up a bit in the middle, and James turns around from below you.

“Aw, sweetheart.” His tone is as gooey and sweet as raw honey. “Do you just want us to take care of you, angel?” He sets his hands on your knees, pushing himself up to kiss your chin. “You should’ve said something.”

“We can stay in,” Remus suggests whilst James worms his way underneath you, getting you in his lap. “Order takeaway from that Thai place you like.”

“That sounds nice,” you say meekly, face growing warm. James presses rapid-fire kisses to your cheek. One-two-three.

“You wanna have a shower, baby?” Sirius asks you. He looks heart-wrenchingly concerned. It’s not like you to want to give away control like this. “I could do your hair when you get out.”

“Don’t do it,” James cautions you. “He steals our hair to make tiny dolls of us, I’m sure of it.”

Sirius sends him a withering look. “I’ll be gentle.”

“I’d like that,” you tell Sirius, and he softens.

“Yeah?” He brushes a piece of hair away from your face and presses his hand to your cheek. Squishy fond. “Okay, baby, we’ll pamper you to hell and back.”

“I’m going to find the menu for takeaway,” Remus says, prying himself up from his chair.

“James,” Sirius says, not particularly kindly, “you will have to let her go for her to shower.”

“Never. Not on my life. Not at gunpoint.” You shrink as James makes his face at home in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nose nudging at a ticklish spot. “She’s my darling sweetheart angel.”

“She’s our darling sweetheart angel,” Remus corrects him from the kitchen. You think your face could melt titanium.

“James, please,” you complain. “I’m never telling you all anything again.” “Careful.” Sirius raises an eyebrow at you, mock stern. “That sounded dangerously close to a thought, and those won’t be allowed until at least tomorrow morning.”

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oharaslover · 4 months

Note

omg your miguel stories are tew good plz stop encouraging my obsession💀 but just in case you dont wanna listen👀... is there anyway you can do a one shot of miguel being like a laid back sugar daddy/just spoils the absolute shit out of us without giving a fuck PLEASE🙏🏾

anywaysssss love you and i wish you all the best<3

million dollar man

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: age gap (reader’s in college while miguel’s in mid thirties), handjob, and semi-public fingering

author’s note: i loved writing this request sm so thank you for allowing me to indulge 😩 wishing you the best too <33

word count: 4.8K

The rules of the website had practically imprinted in your brain with how many times you reread them- no cat-fishing relationships or scams, no low-quality photos, and to not be abusive. The rules seemed pretty simple but you couldn't help but hesitate to accept the terms, your hand hovering the cursor. "Oh fuck, just click it already," you mumbled to yourself, accepting the small box on the right corner of the screen after a couple seconds of hesitation. Your screen flooded with what seemed to be hundreds of older men, most of them actively seeking out for a sugar baby in exchange for some kind of service in return.

You'd been wanting to sign up for a sugar daddy website after noticing how empty your pantry was, a couple ramen packets sitting on the counters collecting dust. While you knew that you could be living much worse, you couldn't help but want more than eating the same food everyday. With the amount of student debt that you were crumbling under, you couldn't afford to make extravagant purchases. The job that you had managed to sustain you for your basic needs, but you were tired of simply just floating above the debt line. You found yourself with the desire to have more.

You decided to accept on the terms of the website and set up a profile, but you couldn't bring yourself to explore the options available. You stepped aside from the computer, rubbing over your eyes as you debated the reality of the situation.

You didn't have much time to regret your decision though, your phone alarm ringing with the reminder that you had to be getting ready for work soon. You shut off your computer, deciding to face the consequences of your actions at a much later time when you weren’t running late. After putting on the uniform for the ice cream shop that you worked at, you made your way out the house out to the parlor.

"I don't really see what the problem is with having a sugar daddy. You deserve more than what this place pays," one of your coworkers, Luna, told you as the two of you cleaned up the spoons from the previous shift. "You don't think I'm being a gold digger by doing it?" You asked her, wanting to get some kind of reassurance about the doubts that'd been clouding your mind since you'd joined the website.

She shrugged, walking over to take the order of an elderly woman that walked in. "If they know what they're getting into, I don't think it constitutes as being a gold digger. They know that the relationship is purely transactional," she responded to your question after the woman stepped away with her vanilla cone.

Her words rung through your mind as you sat down in front of your computer after getting off work, deciding to explore the options that were available. Most of the names shown on the website were some of Nueva York's most prominent businessmen, their name plastered onto some of the most successful buildings in the state.

You'd expected for most of the profiles to be senile men who were in the middle of a life crisis, instead getting men in their mid forties to sixties. Your nose scrunched up as you clicked through some of their profiles, most of them coming up as married with the description of 'wanting discreet fun.'

You were about to give up on your search for the night when you stumbled upon a profile of a man in his mid-thirties, one of the youngest men you'd seen in the fifteen minutes of scrolling. Miguel O'Hara. His profile revealed to you that he was divorced, his description being that he sought out for someone to spend time with in exchange for monitory compensation, a clear difference between his profile and the others you'd encountered.

To say that he was an easy swipe right was an understatement, your finger almost snapping off from how fast you clicked on your mouse. Not only was his persona more endearing than those you'd encountered, he was one of the more handsome men you'd had seen. You didn't think too much of the swipe, your eyes widening in surprise as you got the notification that it was a match.

You spent about a week talking to him about what could be expected out of the arrangement before he suggested that he take you out to a dinner. His reasoning behind the spontaneous date was that he simply wanted to see how the two connected outside of text, get a feeling of what type of person you were. As you waited for the day of the dinner to arrive, you couldn't help but be filled with anticipation and excitement.

You'd even gotten up early the day of to plan out your outfit ahead of time so you wouldn't have to do so after class, choosing to wear a pair of jeans that weren't too distressed with a black top. Scenarios of how the dinner would go riddled your mind throughout the day, your focus of what was on the board diminishing with every second that you were in the classroom.

You showed up to dinner half an hour late due to the subway not arriving at its designated time, easily finding Miguel through the crowds of people. not only was the tallest one in the room, he was also the one with the nicest attire in the place. The black button down shirt he had on accentuated the bulging muscles underneath, the material flexing to fit around him perfectly and the black slacks that he had on fit his legs to perfection.

You caught a whiff of his cologne when he stood up to shake your hand, the pure scent of him reeking of money. He pulled the chair back for you, waiting for you to take a seat before he sat back down. You couldn't help but notice how well he filled out the seat, the pure presence of him almost demanding to be seen.

"Sorry I'm late, the subway got delayed," you started off, wondering just how long he'd been here waiting for you to show up. "While I do appreciate punctuality, I understand," he responded, handing you one of the menus from the table. You picked up the menu, noticing that none of the prices were on there but rather just what the meals had to offer.

A waiter came by a couple minutes later to take the orders, Miguel ordering steak with mashed potatoes and a red wine. "I'll just get the grilled chicken with water, please," you told the waiter, handing them your menu along with Miguel’s. They nodded and stepped away, the only sound at the table being the classical music playing throughout the restaurant.

You looked down at the plate of food dumbfounded, wondering how exactly it was that rich people got full. You were half expecting for the waiter to announce that it was a prank, to come back and fill up your plate. Upon realizing that the two bites that were placed on your plate was the whole meal, you reluctantly took a bite out of it.

"So, the terms of our arrangement would be pretty simple. I'd provide you with the funds that you deem appropriate and you would provide me with your company. I'm not expecting any kind of sexual favors in return, but I wouldn't be opposed to it if you had the desire to," he told you, his tone casual as if he were just having another business arrangement. You almost choked on the water you were sipping, setting the glass back down.

"So what you're saying is that you don't want to have sex with me unless you and I wanted to," you repeated back to him, raising a brow as he nodded. "Do you mind if I ask why?" The question came out of you without much thought, his brows furrowing in exchange. You thought he wasn't going to respond to the question as his silence turned deafening, the room seeming to rise in temperature with every second that passed. "I’m looking for this certain kind of arrangement because I know what to expect from this. My daughter passed away a couple months ago and it helped me to realize that no amount of money that I have will keep anyone next to me," he responded after a couple of minutes, his words coming out with a certain kind of precision as he spoke.

You stayed quiet as you let the words stick in your brain, wondering just what exactly it was that made this man so closed off to the world. You wanted to ask him more questions, but you figured that they weren't appropriate for the setting or the arrangement that was being discussed.

"I'd start off with giving you a short allowance for now, $500 a week just to get you started. It'll increase the more that we spend time together, a little bonus if we have to show up to an event together. Obviously, iId take care of the expenses of your outfit," he added, his red eyes boring into yours like they wanted to see through your very being. “That all sounds very promising, but I think I need some time to think about it if you don't mind," you finally spoke up, watching as his eyebrows bunched up before he nodded.

"You look unsatisfied by the meal. Was it not up to your liking?" He asked after you finished up with your meal, placing a couple hundred dollar bills on the table. "No, the meal was good. thank you," you told him, giving him a tight smile as you got up from the dinner table once the waiter came over to the table. "So if it was good, why do you look unhappy?" He pushed the question further, his eyes locked on you as the two of you headed out of the restaurant.

"Like I said, there wasn't anything wrong with the food. the portions were just a bit.. questionable," you responded, your voice dropping towards the end like you were admitting something taboo. You were expecting for him to protest after what he'd just paid, not the small chuckle that escaped from his lips.

Miguel took you to a burger joint in Brooklyn, stating that 'no other place could do it quite the same.' You'd ordered yourself a burger and fries along with a milkshake, Miguel getting the same thing as you. "Thank you for saying something, the whole meal felt like an appetizer," he told you as the two of you sat down with your trays, the juiciness from the burger looking more inviting than the piece of chicken you'd eaten earlier.

"How do you rich people put up with eating like that?" You asked him, almost moaning at the taste of the burger once you took a bite. "Most of them do cocaine if I'm being frank. I normally don't eat out unless I need to so it's few times I have to subject myself to that," he explained, watching as you stole some of his french fries with amusement.

Despite the initial awkwardness that'd been present throughout the dinner, you couldn't help but enjoy talking to him as the night progressed. His dry humor was something that you were growing to like, the way that he seemed to have a response for everything that you asked/told him.

He was honest and direct, not in a way that he used to excuse what some might deem as 'rude', but in a way that seemed genuine and vulnerable. He'd taken you home after the two of you had finished up, saying that it was too dangerous for you to be taking the subway alone at this hour. You watched as he pulled out of your house, a small smile on your face as he drove away.

The doubts about the arrangement crawled back into your brain once you were alone, absentmindedly reaching over for your laptop and signing in. You weren't sure what exactly it is that you sought out for, maybe some kind of reassurance that he wouldn't get bored with you or start expecting for you to act a certain way around him.

You opened up your browser, deciding to read a Reddit thread about the experiences that some others had as being sugar babies. While some of them described the experience as something pleasant, a few posts lingered about some other girls that had a bad encounter with their sugar daddy. You decided to close your computer after a couple minutes, coming to the realization that Miguel was nothing like the men described in those awful experiences and the decision to say yes had never been so obvious before.

You weren't sure when it was that you started seeing Miguel as more than a provider, seeing him as someone that you cared about beyond what he was giving you. He'd kept true to his promise, his daily allowance now being $700 with the time that the two of you spent together. You'd started to seek him out for the littlest things that you had to do, such as going out on grocery runs or going out for lunch.

When you'd asked him to go to the grocery store with you, you'd managed to deny the growing attraction that was slowly starting to build up by simply telling yourself that you were using him since he was able to reach the top shelf. But the more that you gave a thought about where the relationship between the two of you was headed, the more that you were certain that you couldn't live with yourself if he wasn't present in your future.

You went over to his house after feeling overwhelmed with your final exams coming up, hoping that he would just be able to spare a couple minutes and hold you. "What's wrong?" He asked once he opened the door, exhaustion and anxiety coating your features. "I just need you," you responded back to him, his face softening just the slightest bit before he opened the door to let you in.

He guided you over to his couch, his hand wrapping around your shoulders as he stroked your upper arm. The two of you stayed silent for a while, simply staring at the fireplace ahead of you. "I hope I didn't disturb you," you spoke up, knowing how busy he was.

"You could never disturb me. I like having you around, you're more tolerable than the people I work with," he responded, his thumb lazily drawing circles on your arm. "I'll take that as a compliment," you murmured, leaning against him as you felt the combined heat from his body and the fireplace lulling you into a sense of peace and security. "You should. What's got your little head all worked up anyways?" He inquired, the flame from the fireplace flickering in his eyes as you looked up at him.

"I have finals coming up. And I can't really afford to fail, otherwise I'll get my scholarship taken away. I don't know, I guess I'm just anxious knowing how much is on the line," you told him, realizing just how silly your concerns sounded out loud. “I can help you out if you’re really that stressed out about them,” he suggested after a couple seconds, the movements on your arm coming to a stop. "How about this. if you pass your finals, I'll take you on a little trip to Cabo to celebrate. We'll go on a mall spree beforehand to get you ready."

True to his word, Miguel had the tickets set up for the weekend which you would be done with finals. He'd been the first person that you told about passing them, hearing him say that he was proud of you felt like an even bigger accomplishment especially after he dedicated some of time towards helping you review.

"I knew that you could do it, you're so smart," he'd told you once you shared the news with him, his big arms enveloping you in a hug as he held you close to him. It was the first time he'd hugged you, the feeling strange to the both of you as he did. The act felt unpracticed, something he hadn't done in a long time with the way that his arms awkwardly wrapped around you. Despite that minor detail, you felt invincible as he held you like nothing could touch you.

"I'm thinking about getting my nails done. Which set do you think would look better?" You asked, handing him your phone with the Pinterest board of designs you'd saved. He grabbed his glasses from his case, putting them on the bridge of his nose as he peered down at your phone.

"Isn't it all the same just in different colors?" He noted, scrolling through your phone as he tried to find a difference in the multitude of designs you'd saved. "There's somewhat of a difference in there, it's pretty subtle since I just tend to go for what i'm familiar with," you responded, putting on your seatbelt as you waited. The two of you were heading out to the mall, but you'd come up with idea of getting your nails done after getting in the car.

Miguel ended up liking a simple red design with some gemstones on the pointer and ring finger so you gave the reference photo to the lady doing your nails. You watched as she put on the gemstones with precision, your eyes flicking over to Miguel as he waited for you in the lobby.

If he was uncomfortable in this setting, he didn't show it as he scrolled through the People magazine available. You turned your attention back to your nails, an idea sparking up in your head as she started to put on the final touches to the gem design. "Do you mind putting an initial on my ring finger?" You asked her before it was too late, waiting for her to agree before you told her what letter you wanted on there.

Your hand rested on his pants as he drove, his eyes flicking down to the design and slightly widened as he noticed the small 'M' on your ring finger. "What'd you do that for?" He asked, his attention turning back to the road after a couple moments of shock. "Figured it would be a nice little detail since you were so generous in paying for them," you responded, sliding down his zipper with a bit of difficulty as you adjusted to the feeling of the acrylic once more.

You watched as he let out a shaky breath, his eyes remaining on the road ahead. "I'm driving," he warned you as you started to palm him through his boxers. "So keep your eyes on the road, Miguelito. Just feel," you reiterated, your hand squeezing around his cock slightly. “Ay Dios, nos vas a matar.” (oh god, you’re going to kill us)

You watched as he retrained himself as he drove, knuckles starting to turn white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. You picked up some of the precum leaking out through the tip of his reddened cock, lathering all over the shaft as a form of lubrication. Your hand moved with ease up and down his semi-hardened length, his cock getting harder with each tug that you gave him.

He let out a small hiss as he felt one of your nails brush up against the underside of his cock, the area a bit sensitive for him. He'd pay for your nails hundreds of times over and over if it meant he got to see them wrapped around his cock with his initial on them.

You pulled your hand once Miguel was nearing the mall, drying your hand of the sticky residue with a piece of tissue paper he had in the glove box. "Now you decide to stop?" He asked, maneuvering his way into the parking lot with such ease, parking in reverse in what seemed to be mere seconds. If it were up to you, you would've taken about twenty minutes to do the task before eventually giving up.

Your attention went back to the bulge in his pants, his cock still hard from your previous ministrations. "Well, maybe you'll get more motivated to get out of the mall now," you suggested, getting out of the car as you dusted off your attire. Miguel rolled his eyes as he followed behind you throughout the mall, his hand making the slightest contact with yours.

You stumbled into a Gucci store after a while of walking through the mall, immediately drawn into the designs of the bags. You looked around, one of them in particular catching your eye. The design of the bag was beautiful yet simple, a black leather handbag in the shape of a heart. Your eyes widened as you looked at the price tag attached, your hands making quick work to return it to the shelf.

Before you could get the chance though, Miguel grabbed your hand and turned your attention to him. "What's wrong with the bag? You don't like it?" He asked as he looked at you, expecting for some kind of reasonable answer. "No, there's nothing wrong. it's just expensive," you responded, avoiding eye contact with him as you stepped away from the shelf.

"Well, how much is it?" You heard him ask behind you before you got the chance to walk away too far, his hands reaching up for the purse. "It's almost five grand and that's not including tax. It's fine, I don't need a pu-," you started off but you got quickly interrupted when Miguel called over a sales associate to get him the bag from the back. "I thought you said it was expensive, mi cielo," he simply stated before he went off to check out with the associate that had the bag in a dust bag, taking his black amex card from his pocket as the transaction processed. You stood behind, watching as he paid for the bag with seemingly no hesitation.

The rational side of you threatened to come out, wanting to tell him that he could be spending those five thousand on something other than a bag, but you pursed your lips and watched the scene unfurling in front of you. You remembered the whole point of why'd you even joined the sugar daddy website, wanting the opportunity at having nice things.

"You may not need a purse, but your eyes practically lit up when you saw this one. I'm here so you don't have to resign to that disappointment that you've grown used to," he told you as the two of you walked out of the store, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Well, thank you. I really did like the bag,” you told him, leaning up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. You walked around the mall, eyes glancing around the different stores before eventually walking into Nordstrom.

You picked out a couple pieces for the trip that you'd need, such as a couple dresses, skirts, and bikinis for the warm weather you’d be exposed to. Miguel went with you to the fitting rooms, sitting down on the couches outside as he waited for you to finish up. You'd changed into the shirt and skirt that you'd pulled into the dressing room, looking at yourself reflected on the body-length mirror.

You couldn't deny that the skirt made every part of your legs look good, from your thighs to your ass. Even though you were confident that Miguel would end up liking it, you still decided to call him in to get his opinion. He opened up the door as discretely as he could, glancing around to make sure that no associates were nearby as he stepped inside.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as the giant of a man in front of you was rendered speechless, eyes raking up and down your figure as he took you in. "Te ves tan hermosa dressed like that," he finally spoke up after a couple seconds, his hands wrapping around your waist as he held you close to his body. (you look so gorgeous)

You weren't completely sure what the first part of his sentence meant, but you could guess that it was something good based on the tone of endearment that he used and the way that he couldn't keep his hands off you. "Can you be quiet for me?" He asked, looking at you through the mirror as his hands splayed on your stomach. The question sounded more like he was telling you to be quiet, so you simply nodded along and watched him sit down on the small stool.

Miguel placed you down on his clothed thigh, your legs spread out for him as your back fell flush against his toned chest. His hand made his way down your body, your skirt being pushed up as he did so. He cupped your clothed cunt, the expense of his hand capturing most of it.

"You look so pretty when you're all like this. All needy and just for me," he murmured into your ear, one of his hands holding you in place as the other one slid the black pair of panties you'd chosen to wear. One of his fingers went inside your cunt, the tightness of your walls engulfing it completely as he pushed it deeper inside of you. Your slick coated his finger as he opened you up in a way that only he could, reaching places that even some of your toys couldn't reach.

"Excuse me, but do you need some help in there? you've been in there for an awful long time," an associate called out, knocking on your door. Your eyes widened at the prospect of getting caught in this position, a small muffled gasp making its way out of you. "No, the dress is just stuck," you called out, hoping your voice didn't come out as needy as it sounded to your own ears.

"Well I can come in there and help you out. Sorry, it's just that we have a line forming," the associate told you, her hand coming to the doorknob and slightly shaking it as if she were trying to open it. Her attempts failed since the door was still locked on your end, the rattling of the knob stopping a couple seconds later.

You were half expecting him to remove his hand, but his fingers remained deep inside of your cunt as he looked down at you. "You weren't playing fair in the car so why should I have to play fair?" He spoke just low enough for you to hear, a hint of amusement as he spoke. You struggled to keep your voice even as you spoke, resisting the urge to just go ahead and let a moan rip out.

"Uh no, thank you though. It's just a zipper but it's almost off," you told the sales associate, letting out a small sigh of relief as the clacking of her heels retreated from the dressing rooms. Miguel pushed another one of his fingers into your cunt, moving them in a scissoring motion before he curled them upwards to reach that spot inside of you.

Your toes curled and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt his thumb make contact with your clit, the nub already starting to stimulate just by the touch of his finger. You felt your clit throb against his fingers as he rubbed small circles on it, the rhythm in sync with the fingers he was pushing inside of you.

Your back flushed against his chest as you felt yourself getting closer to that sweet release of euphoria, your shaky breaths and whimpers getting muffled as you pressed the palm of your hand against your mouth. Just as you were approaching that all too familiar release, Miguel pulled his hands away quickly.

You were about to protest before remembering what you'd done in the car, the words dying in your throat as you got up from his lap. "Touché," you mumbled as you started taking off the clothes that you'd been trying on, watching as he wiped his hand off on a handkerchief. Miguel covered up your body with his as he stepped out of the dressing room, closing the door quickly afterwards.

"Sorry about that, she called me into help her with the zipper. stupid thing wouldn't budge," you heard him speak outside, surely talking to the associate who must be growing impatient with every second that you spent inside. You stepped back into your clothes, carrying the choices that you'd picked out as you went to go join Miguel at the checkout line.

Needless to say, the attire that you'd showed Miguel proved to be a definite yes. He gladly paid for the rest of your clothes, not batting an eye as the total came out to be two thousand. "Thank you for the excellent customer service. The concern that you show for your consumers is truly admirable," he noted as the associate handed him back his card, a small smirk creeping up on his lips as he also received the shopping bag. The two of you made your way out of the store, completing the small checklist that the two of you had made for what was needed in order to have a successful trip.

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zephyrchama · 4 months

Text

Writing prompt: If MC had been a sheep since they came to the Devildom and then suddenly became human again, would the brothers recognize them? (Under the cut, all 7 brothers, SFW, written in second person.)

Others might have written about this before, it's a fun concept. In the beginning of the manga it's explained that MC appears to be a sheep for reasons. I like to think that they gradually change back and their sheep characteristics slowly become more human, while maintaining sheep-like qualities for a while, but it's more fun to write about if they just. suddenly. change back all at once, ta-da.

Humans sometimes face adverse effects when traversing realms. The unnatural spatial movement has equally unnatural consequences for human bodies, which is why you found yourself in the body of a small pink sheep when meeting the brothers for the first time.

Solomon and Diavolo say it will wear off in time, as you adjust to the Devildom. Your body will return to normal eventually, but they don’t know exactly how long. Its been quite some time now and everyone just accepts that this is how things are. You are a small pink sheep, and you are family.

You expected a gradual transformation - to slowly regain human features over time as you got used to life in the Devildom. That didn’t happen. Day by day nothing changed, until the transformation happened all at once.

Lucifer

Lucifer had seen your photo on the exchange student paperwork months ago. A generic little square image stapled to the application, hardly better than a driver’s license photo. He might have taken your paperwork out of the student council room and put it in his private office desk for safekeeping, or to look from time to time to remind himself you really were human.

He was the first one you thought to tell. A big change like this was surely worth a visit to his room, even if he was busy. You knocked your usual knock. Now that you were human-sized, you could reach the middle of the door, but the lack of hooves meant your knock was quieter. There were several seconds of silence. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You went to knock again, but a familiar gruff voice called out “come in,” from the other side so you reached for the handle.

There were piles of record book and stacks of forms upon the desk, but the eldest brother was still visible from the doorway. As if sensing something was different, he paused mid-writing and looked up. Lucifer was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his usual composed poker face. You tried to hide a smile. Seeing him surprised like that was a rare occasion.

“I see you’ve finally gotten used to it here. Congratulations.” Maybe it was the soft light inside the House of Lamentation, but Lucifer thought you looked far better in person than in that photo. He put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin. It almost masked the way he leaned slightly forward to get a better look at you over the large desk. “Do you feel alright?”

You nodded, it was strange to adjust to your old height again but you were glad to be back in your body. “You’re sure you feel fine? Come here,” he commanded.

Sitting next to him as a sheep while he worked had become so natural, yet doing so now as a human made you feel so self conscious. Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze until he grabbed your shoulder and said “look at me.”

To you, he was just being overprotective. A routine check up on the exchange student to make sure they’re healthy after a sudden transformation. Maybe being close enough to feel his breath each time he exhaled was also necessary. To Lucifer, it was the time he’d been waiting months for. To see your glossy hair, not just a ball of wool, and study the contours of your face. How smooth your cheeks were and the way you politely kept up an embarrassed smile. Yes, the real deal was much nicer than a photograph.

Mammon

Mammon had no idea who you were, at first. You were sitting on the couch, wasting time while waiting for the next family meal. The front door slammed open loudly and closed with a bang. Mammon finally strolled into the living room after a long evening of make-up lessons at school.

“When’s dinner ready? I’m starvin’!” His boisterous voice made the house a little livelier. “And hey, where’s--”

He stammered when his eyes met yours and his voice faltered back down to a normal indoor volume. “Didn’ know we had someone vistin’. Hmph.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he really this dense? He couldn’t recognize you despite all the time you spend together? You turned around to watch over the back of the couch as Mammon walked to the dining room, then left to go down the hallway that led to your room. Several moments later he was in the kitchen. You could hear voices, but not what was said.

After some time he came meandering back to the living room. With one hand on his hip, he remained standing and leaned against the other couch. He was agitated and impatient, and with no one else around he turned to you.

It must have been five seconds, max, but it felt like you stared at each other for an hour. You pouted, glaring at the idiot who thought you seemed like an oddly familiar and comforting presence. “Who’re ya here to see? If it’s The Great Mammon, I’m a busy guy. I can’t just stand around. WIthout compensation, I’m leavin’.”

“Mammon,” you said. Just one word. You sounded hurt. It made his heart skip a beat, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Huh? What’d you say?” He heard you loud and clear. He just wanted you to speak again, to hear your voice once more and confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

Of all the ways you imagined showing off your human body to him, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe you were wrong for expecting him to recognize you no matter what, but just like him you would never admit that.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a fool! Here’s your ‘compensation!’” Swiftly, you launched a decorative cushion square at his stomach. Your strike is nothing to him, but you landed an emotional blow when you went to storm off.

He grabbed your wrist before you got out of arm’s reach. Forcefully at first, but quickly realized he had to loosen up to avoid hurting you. “Wh- huh? Is that you? Why didn’t you say anything!? When did this happen?”

Walking away was futile as Mammon was rooted to the spot. “That’s really you, right? This ain’t a joke?”

He pulled you in towards him and spun you around to look at your face. You were mad and upset and relieved that he stopped you and embarrassed at having so many emotions at once. He finally knew, you're his human, alright.

Leviathan

It took a while for things to click for Leviathan.

He first saw you from afar on campus. He wanted to steer clear from you., like with every other student. Though he did do a double-take and stare.

He’d never seen you (well, proper human you) around before, and you looked just like the customizable characters you always created in his games. Same hair style, same eyes, same sense of style. His P2 was real. It was uncanny and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about seeing your player character wandering around campus.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t seen you all day. The sheep you. You were always easy to find due to being bogarted by his flashy brothers. You were one of the few to casually greet him every day as assurance he was welcome at RAD. You were human, and humans weren’t sheep. Didn’t Lucifer say something about that when you first arrived? Oh.

When Leviathan didn’t show up to classes after lunch you went looking for him. It was a tough quest. He wasn’t in any of the usual hiding places and wasn’t answering his DDD. He really didn’t want to see you. Or, well, he really did, but clearly wasn’t prepared to. You finally found him on a bench, shrouded by overgrown tree branches and isolated far on the outskirts of RAD’s campus.

Low muttering gave away his hiding space, unintelligible as he was biting down hard on his thumbnail while he raved. His hair was a tousled mess and from time to time he’d jump up to flail or shake his head.

“Lev-”

You tried to greet him and got met with a glorious, high-pitched shriek. You pushed on anyway.

“Levi! I’ve been looking for you. Notice anything different today?”

“You! Y-y-y-youuu!!” He could not look you in the eye, or look at you at all, but your familiar voice made everything clear. It took some time for him to speak again.  ”You sat in my bed! You sat in my lap!” He referenced all the times you’d stay up late gaming with him. He never objected to that before. “You! You did all that! How could you?”

 ”I… thought we were friends?” ”Well I didn’t know you looked like that!”

All the wholesome memories Levi had of you two bonding, demon and sheep, suddenly changed. No longer were you a cute fuzzball sitting on his legs or snug against him like a plush while he slept. You were a cute human, with human features, sitting between his legs and being held against him in bed. Overnight you went from essentially a security plush to a real person, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“You lied to me! Aagh!” He kicked his legs and pulled at his hair in anxious frustration, his thoughts branching in dozens of conflicting paths at once, so you did the only thing you knew to calm him. A big hug.

He froze right up. You stubbornly told him “I’m still me, you know.”

“But you look…” For the first time he tried looking right at you, but all you noticed was the intense blush across his face. It made you smile.

Satan

Great Detective Satan picked up on your change quickly. It wasn’t hard to deduce for anyone who paid close attention to mysteries, like he did.

You hadn’t asked for any help that morning reaching for things high up. You didn’t ask anyone to carry your heavy school books. Most obviously, you were sitting in the dining room enjoying a hearty piece of toast when he also sat down to eat breakfast. Even though he didn’t physically recognize you, who else would be fearlessly sitting at the House of Lamentation’s breakfast table and happily greeting the Avatar of Wrath?

Rather than the scrambled eggs, Satan was most interested in you. He didn’t hide the way he stared. “You look different.” Slowly, eyes never wavering, he took the chair beside you.  ”Oh yeah! Check it out, I changed back!” You went to stand up and show off, but first needed to wipe the crumbs off your face. Too bad the napkin just slid off your lap and onto the floor. “Ah, hold on, I’ll show you in a sec. It’ll be worth it.” You didn’t want to look sloppy on your first day as a human again, and although hands were easier to eat with than hooves, you had prioritized munching on delicious breakfast food over eating cleanly. Without another clean napkin in arm’s reach, you went to pick up what had fallen.

“Allow me.” Napkin unfolded, Satan leaned in close. Before you could acknowledge his offer he had a hand wrapped around your chin. The heat of his fingers could be felt on your lips through the cloth. He spent an unnecessarily long time tracing the contours around your mouth. A cleaning this thorough would surely ward crumbs off your face for at least a week.

A full minute later, Satan was satisfied and leaned back in his own chair. He didn’t stop staring though. You gave a heartfelt, “thanks! Now let me show you,” and stood up to twirl.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus recognized you right away. He was the only one not taken aback, and was thrilled to see you returned to full glory. “You look just like your socials!”

Not one to miss out on trends, Asmodeus had signed up for a few human realm social media sites. He considered it to be the cultural exchange aspect of your exchange program. On particularly slow evenings he’d even scroll through several years of your image posts and save the cutest ones. Asmodeus was very well acquainted with both your human and sheep looks.

“Do you have anything to wear other than your uniform? We really should trim your hair, too. That didn’t stop growing while you were a sheep, huh?” He was immediately all over you, twirling your hair in his long fingers while circling like a predator locked on to its prey.

“Oh really?” You hadn’t noticed your hair being overly long. You were just happy to be back to normal. “Yeah I’ve got plenty of clothes, but my hair? Are there, like, demon barbers around here? Can you help?”

“Leave it to me! And your nails!” His hand found yours and soon your fingers were entwined. He lifted them up, cheerily exclaiming “how about matching with me?” as he pulled you towards his room. It was hard to keep up with him, but at least you stood a chance now unlike before in that small body. He noticed, and with a cheeky grin turned to ask “you're not still having trouble? I’ll carry you, you know. And when you need another trim, you come to me first.”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub lucked out. He came into the dining hall for the most important meal of the day, just in time to see you twirl for Satan, proclaiming “I’m back!”

Your voice was the same, and you smelled the same as ever. He let out an astonished “woah” while taking the seat across from you. This new form was much better than the sheep one. His fears of accidentally hurting you with too much strength somewhat abated. Though, in his eyes you were still tiny.

“Morning!” you greeted. “Notice anything new?” ”Boy, do I.” Through a mouthful of food, he asked “how did this happen?” 

“Dunno, it must have happened overnight. I just woke up and bam.” You flashed a pair of finger guns at Beel and he laughed.

After breakfast, you two became alone in the dining room. You piled up the dirty dishes and Beelzebub carried them into the kitchen as you followed behind, saying “we better hurry, I didn’t realize it was this late already.”

“Yeah.” He placed everything in the sink, then turned to face you. He held out his arms. “Ready to go?”

Carrying you to school appears to have become a habit. Beel didn’t even hesitate to gently lift you up like you were weightless. It was an everyday occurrence when you were a sheep. But back in your old body with longer legs, having his arm wrap around your waist without a layer of thick wool to cushion you, things felt different. “Y’know, I might be able to walk to school today.”

“Hm?” Beelzebub took a moment to process this. Like he had completely forgotten you got your body back in that short span of time. “Oh! Sorry. Force of habit.” Almost dejectedly, he crouched to set you back on the ground. You reached around to grab his shoulders anyway.

“Well, I never said you had to let go.”

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he was still sleeping. Your human figure was a familiar sight he had seen multiple times. It was how you manifested in your dreams, after all. Sometimes when you napped together he would pick up glimpses of your dreams. On this day he had made it to RAD with time to spare and was dozing off in his seat when you arrived.

Unreservedly, he dragged himself several feet over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder right next to your ear. “Hey.” This was a dream anyway, might as well enjoy it.

“Belphie, are you still asleep?” you asked. Physical contact wasn’t so bad, but it got embarrassing in public like this. With a futile shake you tried to rouse him. “Look! Did you notice? I’m not a sheep anymore!”

“Mm, yeah. You’re you.” Avoiding the lights, he buried his eyes in your neck, wishing it was a little darker. He liked you like this. But if this was a dream, why did the light bother him? Why was he still so tired? “Is it… Hm? What time is it?”

“Time for class to start soon. If you fall asleep again Lucifer is gonna kick your butt. Wake up.” You roughly ruffled his hair, causing him to groan and cling to your waist tighter. It did succeed in getting him to raise his head, at least.

After a sleepy pause, Belphegor seemed to grasp his surroundings. He squinted and leaned back, sizing you up. You couldn't tell if he was waking up or preparing to slouch down again until he spoke. “You really changed back? For real?”

“Yep!”

“Heh, good for you.” He pat your sides and let go. It tickled a little. Now, while you were distracted, was his turn to ruffle your hair. Payback disguised as playful praise.

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