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theoldsports · 5 months

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married.

Coriolanus Snow x reader | 5.5k words

alcohol makes consent messy, substance abuse, manipulation, arranged marriage, public humiliation, two-way abusive relationship <3

Coriolanus may well replace Lupin as my favorite guy to write for. he’s fucked up. i can’t fix him, but i could certainly make him worse.

As quietly as possible, [Y/N] closed the door to Coriolanus’s lavish new apartment behind her. She didn’t particularly want him to know that she had left the apartment in the first place. There were always too many questions.

[Y/N] had recently moved in with Coriolanus since their engagement. Her parents had arranged their marriage with his grandmother, affectionately called the Grandma’am not long before she passed. Coriolanus was about the most desirable bachelor in the Capitol. Not only was he an excessively handsome twenty-three year old, but he was also growing increasingly wealthy and had recently received his first assignment as a Gamemaker working on creating a new arena structure for the Hunger Games. Everyone who was anyone in polite society knew of Coriolanus Snow.

And [Y/N] hated him with everything she had. She had to see his defiant smirk in school every day for years since they were twelve or so. She hid from him every chance she got at home. [Y/N] slept in another room away from him. The only advantage of their marriage were the politics and name recognition for the both of them.

“I didn’t realize you were going out.” Coriolanus said flatly, snapping [Y/N] from her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized he had been in the apartment’s common area. He was sitting calmly in an putrid-looking armchair, alarmingly still.

[Y/N] gasped and clutched her chest in surprise. “Is there a problem with my leaving?” She said quickly.

“No problem.”

[Y/N] looked at him curiously. “Okay.” She said and moved passed him to her bedroom.

After a moment of pause, Coriolanus appeared in her doorway. He leaned against her doorframe with a hand in his pocket. “Where were you, by the way?” He asked plainly.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It was beginning to get late. Our engagement party’s in two hours. I cannot very well attend an engagement event without my fiancée. So. Where were you?”

“Dry cleaner’s.”

Coriolanus let out a scoff. [Y/N] could see him get hot under the collar. “You expect me to believe you were—Where’s the laundry?” Coriolanus questioned.

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket for the stub of her laundry receipt. “Dropping off, not picking up. You’re on Lucky Flickerman’s next week. Dropping off my dress ahead of time. Anything left you would like to accuse me of?” [Y/N] sighed, leaned against her desk chair.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Coriolanus begun, sighing. It was obvious that he felt undue humiliation from her response. “It’s childish and unbecoming.”

“So is your being a hypocrite.” [Y/N] snapped back instantly.

The pair fought daily. Never had Snow laid a hand on her, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did one day. [Y/N] didn’t recall any particular fights he had been involved in at the Academy, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“Stop acting like a child!” Coriolanus repeated. “Are we not allowed one remotely pleasant moment together? You know I don’t want this just as much as you, but here we are. Can’t we be civil?”

“I am capable of civility, yes. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re disgusting. You don’t know how to listen. It blows me away. I asked you a simple question that a married couple should ask the other when one is gone. Now you’re screaming at me like a little girl. Grow up.”

“Grow up? You wanna talk about childish; you’re selfish, demanding, and cold. I’m scared to death of you. You make me feel like a toy, not a person, Coriolanus. I was always pretty fucking certain children had toys, not grownups.”

“Good gracious… Fine! Be that way. Cause a fucking scene!” Coriolanus screamed. His temper flared. He got that look in his eye that only men can get when they lose something they wanted. “My coat and tie are black. I’m assuming you’re not intending to clash or something, so just letting you know. Y’know. Communication. The polite thing to do.” He reported and stormed out of her room to his own. Her door slammed so hard behind him that she feared in may splinter off its hinges. What must the neighbors think of them?

[Y/N] resisted the urge to shout for Coriolanus to drop dead.

She was left to ready herself alone. As she pulled out her dress (that wouldn’t look foul against Coriolanus’s coat and tie) from the closet, she caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. White gold with a moderately sized ruby set in the middle. She was told both the gold and the stone were real, but she had her doubts to some extent. She found it was difficult to believe anything Coriolanus said. The ring made it clear that Coriolanus didn’t truly know [Y/N] because she had always worn silver jewelry. She felt isolated from all her prior jewelry pieces as now, none of them matched.

Then, [Y/N] stepped into her dress. A flowing black ballgown with a full petticoat and a glittery exterior over the fine satin it was made from. She couldn’t quite complete the buttons running up the dress’s back. She sat down at a small vanity Coriolanus had purchased her to do her hair and makeup. She assumed he would be hard pressed by the fact she couldn’t button the back of her own ballgown; that she was incapable or needy.

After dragging kohl and shadows over her eyelids, among other things, she set out to find the correct pair of shoes to match the dress.

The problem with dressing to match Coriolanus is that he was excessively tall. This meant every dress had to be accompanied by the tallest heels one could find. [Y/N]’s ankles ached just thinking about a night in shoes like that again. With her makeup done and her dress unbuttoned down the back, [Y/N] set out to find the red heels Coriolanus had purchased for her. She sat unceremoniously on the floor with her large skirt fluffed out around her to dig in her closet for the shoes.

Coriolanus was fastening his white gold and ruby cufflinks that matched [Y/N]’s engagement ring when he knocked at her door.

“Yes, what?” She shouted from the floor.

Coriolanus pulled the door open without asking if she was decent. “I was going to ask if you were ready, but I can see that you aren’t.” He sighed. Coriolanus never apologized after a fight, instead he tried to placate in whatever way possible. He was incapable of an apology, [Y/N] thought. Whether it was buying her something, taking her out, helping her find something she had lost, that’s what he would do to ease his own guilt. If he could feel guilt.

[Y/N] sighed as well. She was unwilling to engage in verbal sparring with him now. She lowered her head in a visual show of defeat. “I can’t find my other shoe,” She said weakly. “The red ones you got me.”

“The red heels?” He asked quietly. Coriolanus perceived she was not much in the mood for his attitude, and felt his residual anger cool off several degrees.

[Y/N] nodded hopelessly. She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. She didn’t want to be marrying Coriolanus under terms such as these. [Y/N] felt like property and everything hurt.

“Let me look,” Coriolanus said. What he meant to say was ‘I’m sorry for everything,’ but what he said was: “I’ll help you look. Don’t wrinkle your dress, alright?”

[Y/N] stood up awkwardly, holding the falling bodice of her dress up. She felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of him like this. “Sorry, I couldn’t button the back.” She said. With her free hand, she reached around the back of the dress in an attempt to close it.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll get it. Turn,” Coriolanus commanded plainly. [Y/N] did as he said. He notched the buttons down her back with ease. “You should’ve called for help. I didn’t realize you were struggling.” He said. He patted her shoulder to signify he was done with the back of her dress. Coriolanus moved in front of her closet and bent down to find the missing left red shoe.

It was silent for a moment. “Of course you weren’t aware I was struggling.”

Coriolanus offered no reply. He understood what she meant.

“Aha!” He said after a few moments, holding up a matching set of shoes. Coriolanus placed them on the floor in front of her so she could step into them. He offered [Y/N] a hand for stability as she did so.

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, Coriolanus?”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, standing up from the carpeted floor. “Are you?” Coriolanus’s blue eyes were piercingly inquisitive. Eyes that didn’t want to know you, but to consume you.

“Yes.”

“Really? Why?” Coriolanus asked. It didn’t feel rude or hot-tempered. It was merely a plain question. It made [Y/N] feel safe to answer, even though she remained guarded.

“I’m presenting myself as the soon-to-be wife of the most important thirty-under-thirty in the Capitol in an arranged marriage. And you hate me. You have hated me since we were children. My life is over, Coriolanus. This is for you and for my family’s honor, evidently. What do I have left?”

“You think I hate you?” Coriolanus asked, bending his neck to look at [Y/N]. “I don’t hate you.” [Y/N] wasn’t sure how truthful the statement was.

“Well, at least, you don’t like me.”

Curiously, Coriolanus placed a hand on her neck and dragged his thumb across [Y/N]’s jawline. “That’s such shit, [Y/N]. I didn’t realize you thought that of me. That you… Felt that way at all,” he started carefully. “Rather, and this sounds silly, I enjoy arguing with you. I sort of thought you did as well. You’re ruthless, I admire that,” He smirked and paused for a breath. “I do like you. Believe it, or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to show you better,” Coriolanus’ hand slid from [Y/N]’s throat, down her side and back to eventually rest at her waist. She blinked up at him, surprised at the luxury of such unexpected contact from him. “Your life is not over. You wanna work, work. You want to not work, stay home. Please, allow me to do what I can for you. I can open doors. Whatever you want, name it. Things, opportunity,” [Y/N] nodded at the word ‘opportunity.’ “You’re meant to be my wife and I’m… really, I’m one of the best resources there is around here. Let me use that advantage. Had I known sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time and money buying you things you hate.” He attempted a casual joke, holding her too close to him.

They were closer physically than they had ever been. Due to their proximity, [Y/N] had to rest her hands on Coriolanus’ chest as she stared up at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and straightened the red rose at his lapel. “You just might get yourself that unified front with me if you bring home your work…”

“You’re interested in Gamemaking? Since when?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be late. We can speak about this later.”

“By all means.” Coriolanus leaned down awkwardly and kissed her. Maybe it was out of duty, maybe out of desire. Neither of them knew. They had shared the occasional peck on the lips for social reasons before, but this felt a bit different. It was charged somehow. A promise.

When they separated, [Y/N] stared at Coriolanus. He was all eyes - blue, blue, blue. He blinked at her. She blinked back. “Come on, we’ll be late to our own party.”

—

The whole ride to the event venue, Coriolanus had kept his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh. This was an unusual gesture. Normally, he didn’t chance touching her, even by accident. It was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

“I’m gonna be sick.” [Y/N] groaned into her palm as she exited the vehicle, led by Coriolanus toward the door of the event hall. The building had been destroyed when they were children in the war and had been recently restored to its former glory.

“Same thing as earlier, or did you decide I’m the worst person on earth?”

“Same as before. Haven’t decided about the second thing. My parents are going to be here too. You remember them?”

“Yes. I’ve met them… Twice, I believe—”

“Tread carefully.” [Y/N] said, offering no additional support.

Coriolanus nodded in solemn understanding. His eyebrows knitted together, knowing one more nasty, exhausting troublespot would be in his way tonight. He hated social gatherings as much as [Y/N]. With all the gentleness he could muster, Coriolanus took her hand. “Heading inside… Unified front?”

“If I must.” [Y/N] said.

With that, the night took off. Bright flashing cameras reflected off the black and white marble of the building, and applause rang off the large, cavernous walls. Everyone was shaking their hands, greeting and congratulating them, and stopping them for overly pictures at every turn. For a moment, [Y/N] truly believed that everything in her life was perfect, because everyone around her seemed to assume that it was. It made the pill of her future easier to swallow.

Coriolanus led her around the room with ease. He introduced her to many individuals whose names she would not remember tomorrow. She was beginning to develop a stunning routine of artifice with him as Coriolanus puppeted her around the room. Each interaction functioned with a greeting from Coriolanus to the stranger, he would remove his arm from [Y/N]’s waist and drag it down her arm into her hand in order for her to showcase her striking gown. Then he would say “isn’t my fiancée beautiful?” or “isn’t she just divine?” or “what a lucky man am I?” [Y/N] would chuckle and compliment him back with “my Coriolanus, ever the charmer!” or “isn’t he just divine?” or “what a lucky woman am I?” accordingly. They would smile sickeningly and pretend they were in love, he would lean in and kiss [Y/N] on the cheek, and she laugh warmly at his ‘spontaneity’ and place a hand on his chest, or straighten his tie.

After that, they would move on to greet the next poor sucker and repeat the process.

Eventually, [Y/N] dragged Coriolanus off to the side so she could relax her artificial grin. “Sorry, I need a moment. My face hurts. And that last man and his wife, was that his wife? They stunk. They smelled so foul it is unreal.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Those were my next door neighbors growing up. Vile. They’re very heavy morphling users, if you couldn’t tell with the glazed over look and twitchy eyebrow.” Coriolanus mocked.

[Y/N] laughed, hard. “Oh, you’re terrible!” She jeered. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for morphling tonight…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a junkie, now.” Coriolanus pressed.

“Junkie is such a strong word…”

“Well, since I can’t get you high out of your mind at the moment, best I can offer is posca. I can grab you a glass and you can hide from the onslaught for a moment.” Coriolanus offered.

“Please. A particularly stiff glass if you can swing it. Or whiskey!” [Y/N] said. She watched Coriolanus turn to leave for the bar. [Y/N] tucked herself in a corner behind a noble Corinthian column for a moment of peace. A few people came and went that she greeted with that 1000-watt fake smile of hers, but she was mostly left unbothered. [Y/N] caught sight of a clock and realized Coriolanus had been gone for several minutes longer than he should have. She excused herself from talking to some old woman that claimed to be some distant great aunt or something of Coriolanus’ and set off to locate him and her posca.

Cutting through the crowd, [Y/N] spotted tall Coriolanus over most everyone’s heads, holding two glasses of posca, and speaking to her parents.

Fuck.

Her parents.

[Y/N] rushed sharply towards Coriolanus. She stopped short of approaching. She wanted to listen in for a moment to what they might be saying. [Y/N] knew her parents were of the socially treacherous sort. She turned her back to them and stood, pretending she didn’t know they were there.

“…Hasn’t given you too much trouble.” She heard her mother laugh.

Coriolanus laughed uncomfortably back. “Ha, not too much, no,” He said. “She’s quite fiery, for lack of a better word, though. Tough. She’s a tough woman.”

“You’re a strong young man, Coriolanus. I’m sure you’ll find a way to put her in her place. You can’t have her compromise your image and all that, you know. She can just be so destructive.” Her father said.

[Y/N] felt her heart sink. The positive interactions she had with Coriolanus were slipping out of her mind by the second in overhearing the conversation.

“Ah, yes sir,” Coriolanus said. “We’ve got a whole lifetime for—“

[Y/N] turned around and stomped over to Coriolanus. “There you are!” She said, returning that winning smile to her lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dear,” [Y/N] the pet name coming from her mouth made her nauseous. She grasped Coriolanus’ arm firmly. “And you got me a drink? You really are a dear, aren’t you?” She smiled and turned to her parents. Coriolanus felt tense beside her; she could feel it in the muscles in his arm.

Both her mother and father embraced her lovingly. “Oh, [Y/N], you look beautiful as ever.” Her mother said.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] said flatly, not returning the compliment. “If you’ll excuse us, there was someone else I wanted Coriolanus to meet. We’ll be back around soon. Love you!” She muttered, pulling Coriolanus away from her parents.

“Give me that.” She said, as soon as they were out of earshot, taking the glass of posca from Coriolanus.

“They’re…” he started in reference to her parents.

“Dreadful. I know,” [Y/N] heart felt broken. She didn’t even have a chance with Coriolanus without their humiliating influence. She didn’t want to dive into rationalizing his overheard conversation. So she just morosely stared down at the floor.

“They’re cruel to you,” he remarked as [Y/N] drank. “They told me I should work on breaking your spirit.”

[Y/N] took a long drink from her glass. “Are you going to? Break my spirit, I mean.”

“Haven’t decided,” Coriolanus replied. “Is tonight terrible so far for you?”

“Absolutely and unendingly.”

“Shame, since it’s supposed to be for us,” Coriolanus frowned. “Here’s what we’ll do. Drink up and we’ll dance. You told me you liked to dance once. Still true?”

“Uh, yes. You remember that?” The truth was that Coriolanus forgot very little.

“Too much talking, not enough drinking.” He replied, reaching out to tip the stem of her posca glass up, forcing the drink towards her lips.

“You’re a dick.” [Y/N] snapped. Her voice echoed from the round glass at her mouth.

“Never heard that one before.” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

A total of five empty posca glasses were settled on a cocktail table between them after about forty-five minutes of chatter and drinking. Coriolanus seemed looser than before, but focused as ever. The third glass, and the last half of Coriolanus’ second, had sent [Y/N] over the edge into drunkness, however.

“Dance with me now?” [Y/N] slurred slightly.

Coriolanus held his hand out as an affirmative response. She took it and he led her towards the dance floor. “FYI, I’m going to lead. You’re falling apart.” He leaned in to whisper teasingly as they approached the shiny wooden floor.

“If you’re shit at this, I reserve the right to take over as lead.”

“You have zero faith in me,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her too firmly in a waltz hold. She placed her hand on his broad shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you.” He said, staring at her. Blue, blue, blue eyes, completely unreadable. Coriolanus sloppily led her around the dance floor, keeping the spins to a minimum. Sober, he was probably a fairly decent dancer. [Y/N] was reflexively a fine dancer as well, but a bit sloppier than normal. The thing that was actually holding back her dancing abilities, were the damn red heels. Her feet ached and she didn’t think she would be able to keep up with much more than a waltz in them.

The next song began after only half the length she had expected from a waltz, [Y/N]. It was a brisk foxtrot; all reliant on footwork. As Coriolanus led her into the first sidestep, [Y/N] kicked off her heels without missing a step. She harshly kicked them aside, sliding them to the edge of the dance floor. [Y/N] found she felt tiny now in front of Coriolanus. His smirk doubled at the sight as well. “Better?”

“Much. How about you shrink six inches next time so I don’t have to grow six inches. Seems fair to me.”

Coriolanus laughed cordially. His laugh turned into a sigh when he noticed [Y/N]’s lack of reply. “Are you angry with me?” He was aware that she usually was angry with him, he was asking specifically she to the conversation with her parents.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re being extremely rude.” Coriolanus said sharply.

“And?”

“No reason, just making conversation.”

Coriolanus couldn’t figure out what [Y/N] was looking at over his shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Wanna make it up to me?” [Y/N] asked. “Posca wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll consider it. The terms?” He replied, spinning her through a tempo change.

“I want to make my parents hurt. I don’t live under their roof anymore. She’s been staring at me since I took my shoes off. See? I’m embarrassing her. And you know how big you owe me.”

This gave Coriolanus pause. Really, he didn’t owe her anything worth a damn. She was as bad to him as he was to her. “Why?”

“You said you could grant me opportunity. Grant me the opportunity of making her feel a fool for making me marry you, Coriolanus. I’m drunk. This offer is only going to work right now.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Blowjob.”

“I have an idea,” Coriolanus said immediately. [Y/N] grinned. His job was having wicked, awful ideas, so it was nice when he delivered. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“By the end of tonight, you will,” Coriolanus grimaced. He rotated the pair of them on the dance floor so [Y/N]’s back was to them and he could keep eyes on her parents. “I’m going to touch you.” He whispered in her ear when the music shifted to something more akin to a rumba.

“What?”

In seconds, [Y/N] felt Coriolanus’ nose slide from where he had whispered in her ear and down her neck to above her pulse point. He planted one kiss to her throat. Coriolanus waited before kissing her again to make sure she didn’t throw him halfway across the event hall in rage first. After that, he felt he had the go-ahead to work more forcefully. Coriolanus sensually kissed hard up and down the right side of [Y/N]’s throat, while both of them tried to keep their fuzzy brains clear enough to keep dancing. He kept kissing and sucking at her neck until she let out a nice loud sound of pleasure. That was when he pulled away. He was happy to see a nice purple bruise starting to form on her exposed neck.

“How was that?” He asked dryly, trying to hold off a pending erection.

“You’re out of your mind. Do it again.”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is here, [Y/N]. That was… great, but unless there’s—“

“We got lectured our entire growing up at the Academy to make sure we were to be winners by any means necessary, Coriolanus. Push the envelope. It’s our night. We can do whatever we want. Let’s make it count, at least. With all these cameras here? You keep this up, and your face will be on every periodical in Panem.”

“Yeah, for terrible reasons!”

“Any press is good press and you know that. ‘TROUBLE IN THE ARENA?: GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE BREAKS DOWN AT PARTY,’” she said, showing a fictional headline example. “Below it, a nice picture of me crying and you dusting me off like a dutiful husband. Have your way with me and eventually I’ll snap and cry and accuse you of something you didn’t do, then you can ‘put me in place,’ so to speak. Control the fucking news cycle til everyone knows your name.”

[Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus had in fact agreed to gamble with his image when his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass. His mouth ducked back into her neck as well, biting harder than [Y/N] expected. [Y/N] let out a painfully loud moan without meaning to.

“You want a show, let’s give ‘em a show.” He muttered against her skin. Coriolanus pulled his hips flush against his. The fabric of her ballgown being the only meaningful barrier between them. After a few moments, they had given up any chance at a rumba. Coriolanus stood over her, kissing her bruisingly hard anywhere we could reach.

“Coriolanus,” [Y/N] muttered. She gripped his shoulder tightly to steady herself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Coriolanus took his hand out of the one that was clutching hers and slid it up to grab her face harshly between thumb and forefinger. “Can you shut up for a minute? I’ve let you run your mouth all day. It’s getting annoying,” He said, the mask of kindness slipping from his eyes. “You have had a complaint about everything. I put up with it, too. It’s getting… really,” Coriolanus’ hand gripped her ass harder over the ballgown. “Fucking annoying. You’re already making me do all this because I’m a dick. Stop being a brat. Please keep your mouth closed until I want it open, okay?”

He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn’t even nod. That’s when she saw the cameras start flashing, as Coriolanus gripped her by the face like a spoiled child and rubbed her ass in front of everyone she knew. “Yes.” She tried to mumble, but it came out squished.

“Great, then, we’re clear. Don’t think, just follow.” Coriolanus leaned forward and kissed her blazingly. That’s around the time [Y/N] could hear her mother in hysterics stomping to the bathroom. She sighed with relief, but also burned with humiliation. It felt like Coriolanus was practically trying to fuck her with her clothes on.

[Y/N] couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t brutally argumentative Snow, this wasn’t pseudo-gentle Snow. Who was this? What the fuck was he doing? Why did it feel good? [Y/N] felt a shiver tingle down her spine as he kissed her. Aggressively, she kissed back in an attempt at delivering that ruthlessness Coriolanus said he prized. He squashed that quickly and leaned her back, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back breathlessly.

[Y/N]’s eyes were darting around the room, watching everyone watching her. She was the show tonight. For the first time in her life, someone had made her the real center of attention that she always craved to me. Coriolanus granted her opportunity. It fucking worked. Her gaze shot back to Coriolanus, looking down at her possessively. He was mouthing something to her, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t signal her eyes to focus enough to piece together his words.

“What?” She whispered, leaning away from him.

More clearly this time, Coriolanus mouthed. “Hit. Me,” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I told you. I’m leading; I have an idea.”

[Y/N] started to shake her head ‘no’ at her insane exhibitionist fiancé, but she remembered she was the one that had asked for a show. Without asking why, [Y/N] feigned disgust and stepped away from Coriolanus. She raised her hand and sharply slapped him across the face. This elicited gasps of shock from their guests. She could see a red mark beginning to develop on Coriolanus’ fair cheek.

Violence like this is what people in the Districts did. This was not what well-bred, promising youth from the Capitol did. The chatter in the room grew in the form of prying hushed whispers. The band stopped playing. This was not how beautiful young girls behaved at their engagement parties. [Y/N]’s stomach dropped. She looked angrily between her vile hand and the mark on Coriolanus’ face. Both of their expressions showed that she had hit him harder than they expected.

“How many men, [Y/N]?” Coriolanus asked, forcefully.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, shocked. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“How many men have had you behind my back?”

It was a fucking act. No truth to it at all. He wanted a rise out of her and so did the cameras. This was exactly what she had asked him, she didn’t realize how seriously he would take her.

[Y/N] sighed. She understood her role and she was going to play it perfectly. “One. Only one, I swear. None since you caught us in bed.” Lie. “Stop. We’re…” she glanced around, playing ashamed of the cameras. “We’re in public, Coriolanus. Please. Don’t cause a scene.” She said, parroting what he had said to her that morning.

That line did the trick. She saw the vein in his forehead pop out. “Don’t cause a scene? You struck me!” Coriolanus roared. “That’s unfair, and you know it.” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips while he clutched his face.

“You wouldn’t hear reason! The accusations you made of me, Coriolanus. You—You—“

Coriolanus surged forward and grabbed her by her forearms. “Accusations that are warranted. I don’t know how you expect me to trust you after something like that! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“Yes!” [Y/N] yelled truthfully.

Coriolanus paused. “[Y/N], I hurt just as much as you do. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He placated. “I just can’t stand to see how these men look at you like that, knowing you would trade me for them in a heartbeat.” He brought the tempo of their fight down with his false melancholy.

“Coriolanus…” [Y/N] said tentatively. “I wouldn’t… Not now. We’ve put that behind us. I-I’m yours and—“

“I made this whole night about you. I…” Coriolanus swallowed dramatically. “I love you.” Lie? “I love you, I spend all night trying to show you that I don’t want anyone but you. I try to make you feel special so you won’t stray again. And you, you hit me… I can’t do anything right enough for you.” He turned his face away, feigning hiding tears and released her arms.

Without the stabilizing touch of Coriolanus, [Y/N] was starting to feel uncertain on her feet from the alcohol. Far from gracefully, [Y/N] sank to the floor, her skirt fanning out around her as it had when she was searching for her shoe earlier that evening. From the drink, the tension and the state of her shambling life, [Y/N] let out an unexpected sob. Coriolanus turned his head in genuine surprise at the sound. “I’m sorry, my love,” she started through sniffles. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” She looked up at him as her mascara began to drip down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. You have every right to leave, but please, Coriolanus, you’re all I have left.” That part was true. It was all gone. Her childhood home, the security of her parents, university and the Academy were behind her, taxing relationships with friends she had outgrown. Coriolanus was all that remained. [Y/N] cried harder. “I made a mistake.” She howled.

Coriolanus was impressed, to say the least. Cautiously, he knelt down in front of [Y/N]. He would remember this image of her for his whole life. With her mascara running, her stockings ripped, her shoes long missing, the top of her extravagant dress sliding too low for public consumption, she was divine, truthfully. That was her. That was how he would always want to remember her. “Darling?” He said quietly.

Now, the bastard was left open to play the dutiful savior, just as she had teased earlier.

[Y/N] started to twist the engagement ring off of her finger, theatrically. Coriolanus took her obvious bait and took her hand to stop her. He slid the ruby ring back down her finger calmly. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. You’re drunk. You just need a little help, right? You mustn’t drink so much. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Coriolanus squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You need me. I’m not going anywhere. What kind of husband would that make me if I did?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man, Coriolanus,” LIE. “You’re too good to me.”

“Come on,” Coriolanus rose from the floor and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get you home, huh?” He said condescendingly.

[Y/N] took his hand carefully. He pulled her up and she stumbled to her feet. Coriolanus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her closer. He glanced around in surprise to address the crowd that had gathered in front of them. “I’m sorry for everything you just had to see. Please be kind to my fiancée; she’s had a lot to drink. Posca, right?” Coriolanus darkly attempted a somber joke. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. We’ll be getting home. Thank you all for coming out to celebrate us tonight.” Sorry to call it a night with so much night left.” He said softly.

Coriolanus led her to the edge of the dance floor where he had spotted her shoes. He grabbed the red shoes from the floor and carried them dangling from his free hand as he walked her to the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. [Y/N] had a vague memory of Coriolanus summoning their driver via the valet at the door. She was too busy noticing how her stockings caught on the sidewalk with every step.

“Darling?” Coriolanus whispered, leaning down to whisper to her. “You were brilliant.”

“Really?” She sniffled hesitantly. “Because I’m fairly certain that everyone in that room hates me.”

“Any press is good press.” Coriolanus reminded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“For you, maybe. I made a mistake asking for that…” she kicked at a stray stone on the sidewalk. “I am probably the biggest villain in Panem right now.” [Y/N] said, shaking her head a little with a sad laugh.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

PART II HERE

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @ndycrls @arminsarlerts @catlover420sstuff @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @watermelonharry @ohantonia @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @nananarwhal @taykorsyogurt

sorry - some of them would not process and actually tag! i tried!!!!! non functional tags indicated with strikethru

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow

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theemporium · 7 months

Note

💰 with sugar daddy Carlos, you get in an accident in one of his expensive cars and freak out thinking he’s going to be pissed but instead he just worries about you?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

It happened so fast that you weren’t even sure what happened.

Carlos had been so insistent that you take one of his many cars. You had been stubborn for the best part, far too attached to the crappy car you saved up for and bought after almost a year of working your ass off and saving every penny. It was your baby even if it took more effort and money to keep running over the years over buying a new car, and you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet.

But then Carlos had seen you taping your side mirror back on (again) and had to practically beg for you to use one of his cars. He even promised to keep your car in the garage amongst his multiple sports cars and high-end names that you still thought only existed in James Bond movies, and in return, you took one of his cars out when you needed to go to work or run errands.

And that was exactly what you had been planning today.

It was meant to be a quick errand run: mostly grocery shopping, picking up a few things from the dry cleaners and popping into a few other shops you had been meaning to visit the next time you were out. And everything had been going fine until you were on your way to the food shop before you returned home.

You didn’t see him coming. You didn’t hear him coming. You didn’t even know what happened until the ringing in your ears stopped and the taste of metal was prominent in your mouth.

Ambulances and police were called to the scene. You were pulled out of the wrecked car by a paramedic, only to let out a sob and almost fall to your knees when you saw the damage. It was honestly a surprise it was still in one piece, but it was mangled and you hated to think about how much repairs would cost.

And despite your deepest wishes, the police had to call Carlos since his name was not only under the main driver of the car but also as your emergency contact.

Your stomach was in knots at what he would say. He had many cars, far too many for a single person to have but he adored every single one. The memory played on a loop in your head of Carlos telling you why he bought each car, when he bought them, the special occasion they were linked to. Each car had a meaning, and you had completely shattered one of them.

You were on the edge of throwing up the whole time you sat in the back of the ambulance, clutching onto the blanket they placed over your shoulders and trying to bite back the tears when you realised this was it.

This would be Carlos’ breaking point. This would be the reason he needed to break up with you. This would be too much even for him, even if it would barely dent his bank account to repair the car. This would be a step too far in his eyes and he was going to leave you.

“Where is she?!”

Your eyes clenched shut as you heard his voice a few feet away. You could hear the commotion like muffled voices underwater, but it took less than thirty seconds before he was rushing towards you.

“Mi amor,” he breathed out as his hands cupped your cheeks, his eyes glancing over every inch of you to make sure you’re okay.

But his touch was the last thing you needed before you broke down.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” you sobbed as the tears began streaming down your face, blurring your vision of the Spaniard standing in front of you. “I didn’t see him coming and he just came out of nowhere. I didn’t mean to crash the car, Carlos, I promise. I-I’ll help pay for—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumbs wiping away the hot tears running down your cheeks. “Breathe for me, amor, breathe for me. Deep breaths. Just….breathe.”

Your breathing was still shaky and shallow as you shook her head. “But the car—”

“Fuck the car,” Carlos said, a frown downturned on his lips as he softly squeezed your face. “Mi amor, I don’t fucking care about the car. I just care if you’re okay.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Yes,” Carlos murmured, and it was only now you could really see the fear and concern written all over his face and shining in his eyes. “Those cars mean nothing to me. They can be replaced. But you can’t.”

“Oh,” was all you could reply with.

“I was so scared when I got that call, I—” he let out his own shaky breath as he shook his head, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Stop apologising, amor,” he murmured before lifting his head to press a lingering kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you cleared and then I’m taking you home and not letting you out of my arms for at least three months.”

“Carlos—”

“I’m serious, mi amor, don’t fight me on this.”

#cece's slumblurb party #carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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stevieschrodinger · 1 month

Text

TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to part Two

Steve leans against Carol's desk, "here are your messages, I fobbed off the Times interview - they're going to email you their questions instead." He's listening to Carol, but he's watching, frowning.

There's a man in his office.

"Lunch call with the Singapore office is on. Your suite for the gala is back from the dry cleaners, it's in your bathroom."

"Right, the gala," Steve answers absently. It's a corner office, lots of glass, so it's impossible to miss the man in his office. The man who is calmly, right now, looking at the framed photo Steve has of his parents. It's basically a prop, Steve never got on with them, but that is not the point. Some random guy is touching Steve's shit.

"And my nine thirty?"

"Had to move it, don't worry, they were fine about it."

"Right," Carol's leaning over the desk now, watching the man right along with Steve, "I assume that's why you had to cancel my nine thirty."

"Uh hu," she's tapping her nails on the top of the desk, and she's so fucking infuriating, if she wasn't so fucking good at her job Steve would have booted her years ago.

"You're going to make me ask aren't you??

Carol gives him a massive shit eating grin, "ask what, sir?"

"Jesus fucking christ," Steve sighs, "who is that in my office."

"Not sure," Carol shrugs, grinning because she's pleased she's being such a dick, "security brought him up," she leans over the desk, whispering like she's imparting a secret, "pretty sure they said something that sounded like FBI."

And then she sits down, tapping at her computer and painting her nails or doing whatever it is she does all day. Harassing mail boys, probably. God she's like a fucking shark, but that what Steve gets, he wanted a competent secretary, what he got was a fucking guard dog.

Steve's not complaining. He'd been weary of hiring a female Alpha and then shoving her behind a desk, but it turns out Carol is terrifyingly efficient and fucking fearless, so it's kind of a win win.

Steve stares at the man in his office for a second longer, trying to figure out what the fuck he's done. he wonders if he's somehow accidentally committed major tax fraud, or something. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the panic spiral is sitting there, looking inviting, anyway.

Steve goes into his office, and the man turns. He's tall, well built, kind of portly with age, maybe, but Steve still wouldn't fuck with the guy. He's not wearing blockers of any sort, so Steve's office now smells of strange, uninvited, Alpha. Great.

"Jim Hopper," he says, extending his hand, "FBI."

"Steve Harrington," Steve replies, even though he's certain it's pointless, this guy knows exactly who he is.

The guy is already producing paperwork as Steve takes his seat on the other side of his desk, "standard non disclosure, Mr. Harrington."

Steve gives it a once over, he's signed enough of these, and been involved with the legal team enough, that he feels confident enough. He signs it, knowing he won't get any answers until he does.

"I'll get right to it, time is tight. I've been working to dismantle an Omega trade ring for nearly eighteen months now. We're almost ready to move, teams are in place, inks drying on the warrants, cells are all picked out."

Steve nods, okay. He knew Omega trade was a thing, a barbaric, highly illegal thing. Human trafficking of the worst form, he gestures for Hopper to continue.

"If we go in now, we will likely get a few of the higher ups, we'll rescue approximately two dozen Omega, it'll be a success." Steve goes to speak, wondering what the fuck this has to do with him, Hopper waves him down, "we've been here before; I've made this mistake once before. If we don't get the people at the top, this thing will grow back in a years time. I want them all."

Steve gets that. His head is spinning a little. He knows things like this go on, you see about it on the news, but it does sound a bit...like a spy movie.

Hopper puts a photograph on Steve's desk, "you know this man?"

And Steve does. They're not what Steve would call friends; more of a good tempered rivalry. And yeah, Steve had Daddy's money, but Tommy had his Daddy's company. They came up at the same time, went after the same deals. Move in the same circles, Steve's known him for years. Steve's disliked him for years, "you're not suggesting Tommy Hagan is...the head of some sort of, human slavery outfit?" Knowing how ruthless Tommy can be, how questionable his methods are...Steve's still struggling to see him as...this.

"I'm not suggesting it. I'm telling you as fact. You've known him a long time, and we have to move fast. The charity gala tonight, you'll both be there."

"Right, sure, but I don't exactly see what I can do about this."

"Hagan moves the...high end product. Very exclusive, very expensive. They keep them at a ranch, just out of state," and that's kind of uncomfortable, because Steve's been to the ranch for a business lunch, so he knows exactly the place Hopper is talking about. And, jesus, Steve had thought at the time Tommy had a lot of Omega staff. A lot of really well behaved Omega staff - at the time, Steve thought Tommy was just being his usual dick self. Just showing off wealth. Fuck, if some of those Omega were actually, like, prisoners- "drop a hint to Hagan, tonight. Tell him you're getting itchy, fancy yourself an Omega. A traditional one, timid. Say whatever you need to say, get yourself an invite out there."

Steve takes a deep breath, nodding. He can do that. He can play that; he might have to wear blockers, his opinion of Tommy is in the gutter on a good day, never-mind this.

"That's all you need?"

Hopper shifts forward in his chair, "look, you're ideal. On the periphery, you've known each other a long time, but not well. He knows exactly the kind of clout you have, your bank balance, you're the perfect person to do this."

It's not hard to find information on Steve Harrington, he's thirty first on the Forbes 100 list, but clearly Hopper, at the very least, has taken notice.

"How do you know I'm not already involved?"

Hopper snorts, "kid. We know. Also, you just asked me that question, and your balls ain't that brassy."

Steve can't deny it, he shrugs, "so, what else?"

"Get an invite. Go there wearing a wire. Meet Tommy, pick an Omega. You'll be trusted; we will fit a listening device. Hagan's wriggled out of this sort of thing before; evidence like that, there'll be no court in the country that won't convict him."

Steve feels awkward. He knows there's a device on him somewhere; Hopper had taken his phone for ten minutes, and brought it back with a different suit jacket for him to wear.

That had been at half five this morning, standing on Steve's back porch. And as he pulls into the ranch, he has the air con on full blast because fucking hell, he's sweaty when he's nervous.

Hopper had made this sound easy; the ranch is pretty safe. Only a couple of armed guards. Plus, he's Steve Harrington; you can't just disappear a guy like Steve.

Hopper had sounded so certain, the cherry of his cigarette bright in the pre dawn mist. He'd even slapped Steve's shoulder, told him he was saving lives. Steve had felt like a fucking super hero for about twenty minutes, until reality and fucking nerves had swamped him.

But here he is, walking up the front steps to the ranch house, Tommy Hagan grinning big, "hope you brought the black card," Tommy jokes as they bro hug.

Because that's not creepy.

Tommy had given Steve a smirk at the Gala last night, was confident he had exactly what Steve was looking for. Knew, for the right price, exactly what would scratch Steve's itch. Not like he was talking about real fucking human beings or anything.

Steve's real glad he went thick on the blockers; he's certain Tommy would be choking on the scent of his disgust by now.

They bring them in during lunch. Steve sitting, eating fucking cornbread and home made slaw and he just can't. He nibbles, feeling sick with nerves. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice. Steve can't help but stare at him, someone he's known most of his life and now...he's been revealed as something vile and subhuman. Steve has to work hard to keep the disgust off his face.

Something that gets even more difficult when the Omega are brought it and lined up, all wearing the same diaphanous nightdresses regardless of gender. Every single one of them could be a contender for the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. Every single one of them could be a model, or something.

They're lined up in height order; the last one in, the tallest, a male Omega. He's limping.

He's leaving bloody footprints on the fancy parquet flooring.

Tommy must catch Steve's face, "the unruly ones need to be disciplined, and that one is more...difficult than most. Refuses to learn. And we don't want to damage the product anywhere that'll be visible, obviously."

Steve has to breathe through his nose so he doesn't throw up. All the Omega are wearing blockers; probably because the scent of Omega distress would be so off putting.

Tommy waves a hand, "get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug," and the Omega winces, as he turns. he's got lots of shiny dark curls. Everything about all the Omega is pristine, perfectly maintained hair, nails, flawless skin. The smear of blood on his ankle is even more stark for it, and Steve can't help but stare as the Omega gamely takes what looks like a very painful, shuffling step away again.

"Him," Steve says before he can stop himself, "I want him."

The Omega turns back, looking at Steve with huge, beautiful brown eyes. He's hopeful and fearful all at once, and it tears Steve up inside. He wants to buy all of them, get all of them out of here, but knows he can't. If he does anything to raise suspicion he could fuck the whole thing.

At least he has Hopper's word that the rest of them will be out of here by the end of today.

Tommy scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

Steve wants to swear at Tommy because they're all fucking pretty, ridiculously so, "no, he'll do."

"Oh," Tommy laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Steve is dragged into a very detailed conversation about how to move funds - from where and to where, which Steve does. It's an amount of money that under any other circumstances would make Steve's eyes water - but in the face of a human being in pain, Steve doesn't even blink.

It doesn't feel like Steve takes a breath until he's on the interstate, the Omega curled up on the seat next to him. No possessions, no clothes, no bag.

Nothing.

And that had gutted Steve as much as anything else.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," the Omega answers quietly.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie's just blinking at him.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know."

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie turns and sees the McDonald's, "oh fuck me yes," he breathes with such vehemence that Steve laughs, "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

That kills Steve's laughter stone dead.

Hopper rubs at his forehead, "you were not supposed to buy a human being."

"I know but-" Steve turns, Eddie standing behind him, which on it's own makes Steve wince. Eddie's barefoot on the asphalt, half hidden behind Steve, still wearing nothing but that scrap of white fabric. It's now a little smeared with the fry grease Eddie had shamelessly wiped off his fingers. Steve hands over his phone and the suite jacket.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out."

"He can stay with me." Steve's volunteering before he can really think it though, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off. He did just rescue this Omega after all, he's not just going to abandon him to be alone somewhere. Somewhere that might not even be safe for a lone Omega.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. It's maybe an hour and a half drive back from here, since Steve had to go out of his way for this clandestine meeting in an abandoned car lot.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?"

Eddie seems to think about it for a second, plucking at his nightshirt, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

Steve starts laughing first, then Eddie joins in.

At Eddie's request they get milkshakes on the way home.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ao3 writer #ficlet #ao3 author #pre getting together #pre steddie #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #omega eddie munson because he's so pretty #long suffering hopper #jim hopper #fbi agent jim hopper

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808airsoftbros · 6 months

Text

Who's the Bustiest? (Female Idols) (BXG) (S)

Author: This is an idea that I got from Discord and came up with this. Hope you enjoy it and if you want to check out my Masterlist for more fics :)

Y/N's POV

It was my first day of college, I was quite excited as I'd get the opportunity to learn new things, make new friends, and perhaps find love.

But I knew that was all delusional love stories that you see in web dramas although they are entertaining to watch after school.

Anyway, I was on my way to my first class, that was until I heard the loud sounds of footsteps approaching me and I turned around and saw a woman running towards me.

"What the-" I was about to say but it was too late as the girl ran into me.

What was worse was that she was holding a cup of cappuccino and it spilled all over my new Addidas jacket which isn't cheap.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" The girl apologized and rushed to get some tissues from her bag.

"Aish... It's okay... Are you hurt?" I checked and she shook her head.

"N-No, but thank you for asking," She answered.

"Oh my Lord, Unnie are you okay?!" Another girl approached and she nodded.

"I-I'm fine, it's my fault! I wasn't looking!" She said and she sighed.

Though my jacket was soaked and stained with coffee, my shirt escaped without a drip of coffee so at least I didn't need to change clothes right now.

"We're so sorry about this, Jisun-Unnie here can be a bit clumsy sometimes, I am Natty, second-year," She introduced herself.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, first year," I replied and she nodded.

"Ah, so you're a freshman, well in that case, welcome to our school," She said and I thanked her.

Taking off my jacket soaked, I tried to squeeze as much coffee out as possible. I was planning to quickly make a run to the dry cleaners on campus but Jisun-Noona and Natty-Noona insisted on cleaning it themselves seeing it was Jisun-Nonna's fault.

At first, I was reluctant to do so as I didn't fully trust them despite them being my sunbaenims but you cannot be too safe.

"It's okay, Y/N, your jacket will be safe with us. Here, I'll give you our numbers as insurance, and I'll text you when it's ready," She suggested and I nodded.

"Sounds fair," I agreed and opened my phone app.

Adding them to my contacts, I thanked them as I handed over my jacket to them, and we went seperate ways to go to our classes.

Heading to my first subject, math, I was greeted by the professor and I greeted her back before taking my seat.

After about ten minutes, the lecture started, and the professor wasted no time getting into the intro to Calculus. Being a math nerd, the lesson wasn't hard and I was able to easily figure it out.

Working on a problem, I felt someone poking my shoulder and I looked to see a beautiful and busty girl poking me to get my attention.

"H-Hey, do you mind helping me with this?" She shyly asked and I nodded.

"Yeah, no prob," I answered and she smiled.

"Thank you! I'm Lee Saerom, second-year, and what about you?" She kindly asked and I introduced myself.

Helping her with the problem, she was amazed at how easily I was able to solve it and I showed her step-by-step on how to solve the formula and find the proper solution.

Most of it was basic Algebra which she wasn't too half bad on but still could use more work if she wants to succeed in the class.

"T-Thank you but I could use your help in the future. Do you mind if we exchange numbers?" She asked and I agreed.

"Sure, why not?" I answered and I input my number.

Adding her to my contacts, I felt lucky at how I managed to get three girl's number... Even though I'm not going out with either of them. Hehe.

After class, was over, the rest of my three classes were uneventful as the professors were introducing their first lessons and shit.

With my day of college over for today, I got a text from Natty saying that my jacket is now ready for pick up and uploaded a photo.

I was shocked at how cleaned it looked as if it just came out of the production line.

I texted Natty that I'd meet her at whatever nearby location, and she texted suggesting to meet her at her dormitory.

"Okay, come to Dorm 321,"

Giving her a thumbs up emoji, I put my phone away in my pocket, and I looked to see three other hot woman coming my way and they do not look happy.

"You! Punk!" One of them pointed at me.

"Me?" I asked and she marched toward me before harshly grabbing my collar.

"Did you hit our friend?!" She angrily asked and I was fucking confused.

"W-What are you talking about?!" I nervously asked as I have no idea what they're accusing me of.

"Liar!" The other woman who also have huge boobs said and I gulped.

It didn't take long for them to beat the shit out of me and I was totally helpless. My arms and legs were sore, and I was left with a black eye.

Fucking hell, what is their damn problem?! I should report them to the police for assault!

Whatever, the police wouldn't believe that a man was beaten up by three busty women so I took a deep breath and decided to let the whole transgression slide.

Despite being injured a bit, I make my way to my Noona's dorm as instructed. Each step I took stung the living shit out of me but I kept going.

"Jeez, this is not how I imagined my first day of college..." I muttered as I painfully make my way into the elevator.

Once the elevator reached the third floor, I got some stares from other students but I ignored them.

Finally arriving at Dorm 312, I didn't see any doorbell so I texted Natty that I'd arrived and she said she'd be there in a few minutes.

Thankfully, I didn't have to wait too long as Natty opened the door with my freshly cleaned jacket in hand and she was horrified to see bruises and scars all over my body and uniform.

"My God! What the hell happened to you?! Did you get into a fight?!" She frantically asked and I shook my head.

"I fell," I lied and she sighed.

"Come on, I'll treat your wounds," She said before stepping aside.

"No! No! It's fine, I'll just go to the nurse's office," I declined but she didn't take "No" as an answer.

Dragging me inside of her dorm making me hiss in pain and she apologized. She helps me take off my shoes and bag before guiding me to the couch to lay down.

"Wait here! I'll get some medicine!" She instructed and I nodded.

Going up the stairs, I take out my phone go through Instagram and watched a few Youtube reels to pass the time.

"The fuck?! Why are you in our dorm?!" I heard a dreaded familiar voice and I looked to see the same girl that jumped me.

"N-Natty dragged me in here!" I pleaded and she scoffed.

"Unlikely story, I guess I need to teach you another lesson!" She said before cracking her knuckles.

Right when she was about to punch me in the gut, she was held back by Jisun and she gave her a confused look.

"J-Jisun, what are you doing?! This psycho is in our house!" She said but she shook her head.

"No, Unnie! He is our friend! He's the one I spilled coffee on!" Jisun explained and her eyes widened in horror.

"O-Oh my... I-I am so so sorry! We completely misunderstood! We thought you tried to kidnap her!" She frantically apologized and I chuckled.

"I-It's okay, Noona, I understand you wanted to protect your friend," I forgave her and she sighed in relief.

"Okay, now that's settled, I am Kim Sejeong and I guess you've already met Jisun. The two others are Kwun Eunbi and Park Jihyo, we are third-year students," She introduced herself.

Coming down the stairs, Natty comes to treat my wounds but we keep our conversation secret so as to not start any conflicts.

"Sorry, Y/N but this might sting a little," She warned before applying the alcohol wipes and I hissed.

"Damn, that's strong..." I muttered.

Finishing up bandaging my arm, it was clear she was a nursing student as she did it professionally and I kinda blushed as her boobs were pressing against my shoulder.

"Alright your right arm should be good, now can you please remove your shirt?" She asked and I blushed.

"U-Uhm, what?" I stuttered and she giggled.

"It's okay, I'm not going to make fun of you," She assured.

"Yeah, it's not like anything we haven't seen before," Eunbi said before sipping a cup of tea.

Reluctantly taking off shirt, Natty goes on to treat the bruises on my chest and stomach.

"Damn, you really did a number on yourself, huh?" She asked and I slowly nodded.

"Haha, yeah..." I replied.

Bandaging and applying cream on my bruises and injuries, I had to remain shirtless for the rest of the day.

After more than an hour, Natty finishes up treating my wounds and I thanked her for her help.

"Don't mention it. You mind as well stay here for the night, besides you can't really move around too much. If you need to use the bathroom or shower, just let me know," She instructed and sighed imagining Natty holding my cock while taking a piss.

"Oh, and don't worry, I had to handle plenty of old man dicks in my nursing school," She assured before winking and I gulped.

"Or maybe I can help you~!" Jihyo flirted and I blushed like a tomato making Natty playfully roll her eyes.

"Oh, Jihyo-Unnie, can you please not? You're going to make the poor kid pass out!" She jokingly said and she laughed her ass off.

Opening the door, I was surprised to see Saerom coming inside and she was just as surprised to see me in the dorm.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? And why are you shirtless....?" She asked and Natty rose an eyebrow.

"You two know each other?" She curiously asked and I shyly nodded.

"We have the same calculus class," I answered and she nodded.

"I see, well, no need for introductions then," She mentioned until we heard someone clearing their throat and we turned to see a big curvy ass woman coming down the stairs and staring down at me.

"Now. Now. What do we have here? Natty what have you brought here?" The woman asked.

"Oh, Unnie, this is Y/N, freshmen, I treated his wounds so he needs to stay in our dorm for the night," She explained.

"Well, Y/N, I am Lee Chaerin the eldest of the group but you may call me CL-Noona if that's easier for you. I'll tolerate your presence here for now but by morning you must leave. Understood?" She asked and I frantically nodded.

"Awww~. Unnie, but I want to play with him~!" Sejeong complained and she rolled her eyes.

"Like how you do with every guy you meet?" CL-Noona rebutted and she pouted.

"B-But this one here is cute!" She replied and she sighed before shaking her head.

She signals everyone to gather around to the kitchen, they talk softly so I couldn't hear their conversation. After about a few more mintues of talking they come to me.

"Okay, Y/N, after much discussion, I've come to an compromise here, I'll allow you to move here to our dormitory," She explained and my eyes widened.

"W-What?!" I exclaimed.

"But under one condition..." She paused and I rose an eyebrow.

"What is that?" I asked.

"You must be our pet, our lover, and do everything we tell you to do. Now, you don't have to accept our terms and leave right now but imagine having seven sexy women taking care of you," She explained and I gulped.

Damn, well she isn't wrong, I've always dreamt of having a harem, and having all these busty woman to myself is something I never thought would happen.

After taking some time to contemplate my decision, I agreed with CL-Noona's term and she smiled along with the girls.

"Yay~! Now I can fu- I mean play with him!" Sejeong cheered.

"W-What was that?" I nervously asked.

"Oh, uhm, nothing, puppy~," She assured before pecking my cheek.

Right afterward, my life took a 360 turn, the girls went to my dorm took all my stuff, and moved them here. I noticed that they've been quite comfortable giving me tight hugs and wearing revealing clothing.

Thankfully, I was able to control myself before CL-Noona beats my ass for being a pervert but I have a feeling they want me to get hard.

"Hey puppy~," Saerom whispered and I turned to look at her.

"Hey, Noona," I replied and she pecked my lips.

"Mind answering a question?" She asked and I nodded.

"Which one of us do you like most?" She straightforwardly asked and I gulped as I didn't know how to answer her question.

"I-I don't know, Noona, I like all of you," I nervously answered and she frowned showing her dissatisfaction.

"Aww~. Come on, baby, I know you must like one of us more... Maybe my boobs might change your mind~," She suggested before taking off her shirt revealing her black-laced bra and I blushed at the sight of her mounds.

Suddenly, the door opened and Jisun gasped at the sight of Searom's half-naked self and she immediately pulled her out.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?!" Jisun asked and she giggled.

"I just wanted to know if I'm Y/N's favorite~," She answered and she huffed.

"Oh, really~? Then Y/N, what do you think of these babies~?" She teasingly asked as she takes off her tank top and I saw she wasn't wearing a bra.

"H-Hey~! No fair~!" Saerom whined and takes off her bra leaving them half-naked and my dick started get hard.

Seductively approaching me, they each grabbed my arm and threw me onto the bed and they smothered my face with their massive tits and they giggled.

"He's so cute when flustered~," Saerom complimented before pressing my face into her tits.

"Yeah, but mines are bigger so I can make him more flustered, watch," She proved and smashed her mounds onto my face and I blushed harder making Saerom-Noona scoff.

"What is going on here?" Natty asked as she walked inside with Sejeong and was shocked.

"Ah, you horny girls, why didn't you invite me?" Sejeong complained.

"Well, you can always join us, let's see which one of us has the bigger boobs," Saerom proposed.

"Oh, you're on!" Natty and Sejeong accepted and joined us on the bed.

Sejeong takes off her shirt showing no bra while Natty takes off her hoodie and she wasn't wearing a bra either. Guess girls don't wear bras at home.

Of course, it didn't take long for Jihyo and Eunbi-Noona to join us as well and my God they have some of the biggest boobs I've ever seen in my life.

"Okay, now that we're here... Baby, which pair of boobs do you like best~?" Jihyo-Noona asked before licking her lips.

"U-Uhhhh..." I muttered.

"Come on baby, which one of us?" Jisun whispered in my ear sending chills down my spine.

"I-I cannot choose!" I answered and they sighed.

Suddenly, the door busts open revealing CL and the girls gasped as the eldest walked inside only wearing a white bathrobe. She looks down at each and one of us.

"Girls~. Girls~. Let us remember that each and one of us has a special place in our puppy's heart so it doesn't matter how big our boobs and asses may be. Our puppy will still be loyal to us, isn't that right~?" She asked and I frantically nodded.

"Y-Yes, mummy," I answered and she giggled.

"Good, now let us all enjoy him, tonight~," She said before sexily smirking and the girls agreed.

Saerom goes to take off shirt while Jihyo takes off my pants and underwear revealing my monster 9-inch cock and they licked their lips like a predator eyeing their prey.

"What a big-sized cock you have, puppy, and it's all for us," CL-Noona complimented and began jerking it off making me moan.

"T-Thank you, mummy," I muttered and she giggled.

Starting with Jihyo, she presses her mounds between my cock and bounces up and down making me moan. Her titties felt soft and smooth adding to the pleasure.

"I-It feels so good, Noona~!" I moaned and she hummed.

Each girl had a turn for about ten minutes until they switched out and I had to hand it over to CL-Noona giving me the best boob job and she wasn't too subtle about not being a virgin.

"All of the men, crave for our bodies baby~. You are really lucky to fuck all of us~," CL-Noona said and I nodded.

"Y-Yes, Mommy ~," I moaned out and she smiled.

After they were finished giving me boob jobs they each gave me a sloppy blow job, the feeling of their warm mouths on my cock and balls felt amazing and I could barely hold myself from cumming but I did my best to please my mummies.

"Such a tasty cock, better than my ex," Jisun complimented.

"I know, right?" Natty replied.

"N-Noonas! I-I'm going to cum!" I warned as I couldn't hold it anymore.

Gathering around my cock, I let out my massive load onto their faces letting out satisfying hums as they taste my cum.

"Cum also tastes amazing, we should do this everynight~," Eunbi suggested and they agreed.

"Now, let's get onto the main event, remember, will all get one round of his cum," CL-Noona instructed.

Going first was Natty and she didn't waste any time slamming her pussy onto my cock letting out a loud moan.

"Aww~. Is our baby a virgin~?" She asked and I slowly nodded.

"Y-Yes..." I shyly answered and she smiled.

"Even better," She replied.

"Good, because from now on, our pussies are the only pussy you're ever going to get~," CL-Noona said.

With Natty riding for me the next half hour, we came together and I filled her womb with my cum.

Next up was Jisun, she inserts my dick into her womanhood as Saerom sat on my face forcing me to lick her pussy.

"Oh fuck~! Good boy~!" Saerom yelped as I insert my tongue inside.

"So big~!" Jisun moaned in ecstasy as she slowly began riding me.

Despite not being experienced, I did my absolute best to please them and so far I'm doing good based on how loudly their moaning.

As soon as I let out my load inside Jisun, Saerom takes her position as Jihyo got on my face with her soaking wet pussy and it tasted like watermelon and I'm a huge fan of fruits.

"Ohhhh~! Puppy, I could ride this dick all day if I wanted to~," She screamed as she inserted my cock inside her womanhood.

"Mmm~. Your tongue feels so good puppy~," Jihyo moaned as I insert my tongue.

"You're doing such a good job so far, puppy~," CL-Noona complimented before giggling.

"Puppy, I'm going cum~! You better drink all of it!" Jihyo warned before squirting in my mouth and I drank all of it.

"I'm going to cum too, baby, I want your sticky cum inside my womb~," Saerom pleaded and we came at the same time.

Jihyo took Saerom's place as soon as she made my dick hard again and I was starting to feel sore and tired as I've came several times.

"Tired already baby~? We haven't gotten to the best part yet~," Jihyo said as she jerked my dick back to life and I gulped.

To my surprise, she gets on all fours shaking her ass signalling me to pound her as hard as I could and I got on my knees before shoving my cock inside her pussy making her loudly moan.

"Oh, you naughty boy, you want me that much~?" She teasingly asked.

"Y-Yes, mummy~!" I answered as I began fucking her.

Going in and out, pounding her as fast and hard as I possibly could, Jihyo could loudly moan as her mind was consumed by pleasure. CL-Noona hugs me from behind pressing her boobs on my back along with Eunbi and Jisun.

"Are you close baby~?" Eunbi asked.

"N-Not yet mommy~!" I replied as I kept fucking Jihyo and she smirked.

"Well, do you want to pound my pussy~? I'm just soaking wet from watching and I want your long and thick cock inside of me~," She whispered in my ear.

Picking up the pace, Jihyo began screaming and came a few times before I painted her womb with my cum and she collapsed on the bed all exhausted and I was panting.

"Good boy~. Now it's my turn now and you better fuck just as well as you fucked Jihyo," Eunbi said and I nodded.

"Hey what about me~?" Sejeong whined and she playfully rolled my eyes.

"Think you can take us both~?" Eunbi asked.

"Anything for you," I replied and she smiled.

With both getting on their knees and elbows, I insert my dick into Eunbi's pussy and insert my finger in Sejeong and switched places, fucking them both at the same time.

"Oh God baby~! So Good~!" Sejeong moaned.

"Mmm~. Keep it up and we may cum soon~!" Eunbi said as I pounded her.

Finishing off into Eunbi's pussy, I put my full attention to Sejeong, I places my hands on her tits and play with them while I pounded her.

"Yes baby, our tits are yours only~," Sejeong moaned.

"Why have any man when you have this obedient puppy's dick?" Jisun mentioned.

About ten minutes later, I unloaded my cum inside of her as she squirted all over my dick and CL-Noona pulls my head forcing me to kiss her.

With her having more experience, she easily dominated me and sucked my tongue and we let go when we ran out of breath.

"Now time to see if you can make me cum~," She said and pushed me onto the bed.

Inserting my dick into her pussy, I was astounded at how fucking tight she was compared to the rest. It felt Godly and I can see why so many guys competed for her but all of them never succeeded in getting close to her.

"Oh my fucking God, puppy, your dick is so good~!" She moaned as she roughly rides me and I moaned.

"Your pussy is so heavenly, mummy~," I replied and she smirked.

Speeding up, she began riding me like an angry bull and I held back all temptations to cum letting her enjoy herself.

"I'm so close to cumming baby~! Let's cum together~!" She screamed and I nodded.

At the same time, we came simultaneously and she collapsed onto my chest before pecking my cheek.

"You did amazing, baby~. I never expected you to be able to handle all of us," She complimented.

"Yeah, you did us so well~," Jihyo said before giving me a long smooch.

"You may consider us your actual girlfriends, baby, but at home, we are your mummies~," Eunbi whispered and I gulped.

The rest of the girls hurdled together and I was smothered in an ocean full of titties and it didn't take long for me to fall asleep.

844 notes · View notes

becauseicantthinkwritings · 5 months

Text

Objects in Motion

Part 1

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

A/N: My very first A/B/O fic, that I started a while ago, and just decided to post.

It all started after finding out how much that lovely coat Billy wears in s1 costs.

Warnings: Masturbation, omega in heat.

You’re often overwhelmed.

It’s the hitch of your breath when your feelings are too big for your body, or the way your throat hurts with all the words that go unsaid.

There are not enoughs and there are too muchs and hardly any moments when things are… just right.

The coat in your hands is soft- ridiculously so, the label offers you an explanation- 100% cotton. You can't help the way your hands tighten on the material, as if you’d fight off anyone that tried to take it from you. Like for the first time, just right isn’t just a far away idea, it’s here, in your hands, against your chest.

How had you ended up here? Curled under your bed sheets, pillows all around you, clutching this lovely black coat to your body?

Today had been very overwhelming, your phone had pinged, alerting you to your impending heat, reminding you that you needed to pick up supplies.

Your heats were formidable too, always too hot or too hungry or too needy. There was never a part of you that existed within the realms of fine.

At least until now.

When you were clutching this delightful black coat in your hands, bringing it up to your nose so that you could catch a whiff of the bewitching scent.

It's bergamot at first, followed by notes of citrus that makes your eyes flutter shut. Delight spreads out inside you, fanning at the flames of your desire- your heat coming on faster as your nose lingers on the scent. You catch hints of pepper at the very end and it prompts you to take another long inhale.

Based on the size of the coat, your mind formulates an idea of the size of the person that wears it. The very thought causes you to clench your thighs together.

You didn't mean for this to happen, you'd only gone to pick up your silky PJs from the dry cleaners, designed specifically to be worn during your heat for maximum comfort on your skin. The delicate, gossamer material demanded special care, but you were very glad to have been gifted them some years ago.

You'd just picked up your item, when your nose had zeroed in on a scent that had made your body perk up curiously. It was the first time your senses had streamlined onto one thing, where throughout the day you'd had a number of difficult sensory encounters, leading you into wearing a beanie and noise cancelling headphones and the biggest jacket in your closet in any attempt to feel less things. The scent had made your brain ache for more, demanding you follow what your body had accepted- that this specific scent brought you absolute pleasure.

Even through the garment bag it was stored in, it had activated dangerous thoughts in your hindbrain, and before you could even look around for cameras, you'd reached over the counter and swiped the garment bag when the girl at the front desk wasn't looking. It had been tucked to your chest and smuggled out of the dry cleaners without even a moment of guilt.

Realistically, you wouldn't be in that much trouble anyway, omega behaviour was usually forgiven, even if it didn't make sense. No one would lock you up for swiping a men's coat, especially not so close to your heat.

You have a few hours left, and you use it to make sure your food supplies are easily accessible. Your heats tended to run on for five days- higher than average- which means that you were in a lot more danger of starvation and dehydration.

You wonder if he would take good care of you. Your mind spinning back to the owner of the coat, having already made up some basic idea of him.

You knew his designation, by scent alone, but you were too afraid to admit it to yourself, worried about the consequences of having stolen a coat from someone like that.

Would they be mad? Probably not, you were sure with a scent like that, they were used to omegas swarming around.

The thought made you unreasonably jealous, for a person you didn’t even know.

Your heat hits you in the early hours of the next morning.

You wake with a whine, sitting up, thighs damp with your arousal. You reach for the pills on your bedside table, taking them quickly and swallowing down some tepid water, before lying back. They would help you go back to sleep until morning alleviating some symptoms of your heat. You turn, finding the coat lying beside you. You take a deep breath into it as you fall asleep.

You can’t focus on anything as you pump the slick pink dildo in and out of you. There are tears streaming down your face, desperate for much more than you could ever give yourself.

You bring the coat up to your nose, crying harder as the scent wraps around you.

“Alpha.” You pant into the soft material, imagining your fantasy version of the owner.

You take a deep breath, envisioning him here with you, presumably large body curved over yours, taking up all the air around you, smooth skin available for you to scratch and claw at, his scent glands on display and eager for your mark.

“Alpha.” You beg again, into the loneliness of your apartment.

The coat becomes a centerpoint in your nest.

On day three when it’s fully finished to a satisfactory level, an arrangement of pillows and sheets all around your bed, you tuck the coat in beside you, delighted at the way the material feels on your flushed skin.

The scent is strongest at the collar, where it's probably rubbed on his neck often, brushed against his gland when he turns to examine something.

You groan, mouth watering for a bite of him, whoever he was.

There’s a lot of buttons and buckles on it, and your hindbrain is somewhat obsessed with what you think he looks like wearing it, probaby commands any room he walks into.

The label at the back says Burberry, and though you're not very familiar with the brand, the clean stitching and soft material tells you that it’s definitely got to cost more than what you pay for your own coats.

You sigh, stripping out of your PJ’s and opting to slide into the coat itself.

A groan slips from your mouth, the material feels coarse on your oversensitive skin, but you welcome it as you feel his scent engulf you.

A fresh wave of arousal coats your thighs, and you can’t help inching your hand down between damp thighs until you find your swollen clit.

On your knees now, face down into your bed, you bite down on the collar of the midnight black coat.

Your eyes roll back into your head, muffled grunts as you pump your overstimulated cunt to the brim.

You rub your face into the collar, arching your neck so that your scent gland rubs against the coat, a low whine at the severe taboo thought of rubbing your gland against a stranger's.

It's frowned upon, but the very thought of it is what brings you to orgasm just a few moments later.

You struggle for air, hair tickling your cheek as you huff, some of it clings to the saliva at the corner of your mouth, some of it is caught in the tears that smear your cheeks.

You want- like never before.

When your heat is over, the guilt kicks in.

You know better than to wash the coat yourself, only wiping gently at the interior in hopes of wiping off any lingering traces of… you away. You think about getting it dry cleaned yourself but you’d used the last of your money on the alleviator pills to help with your heat symptoms. You wouldn’t get paid until the end of the month.

Finally, you rummage through the pockets, checking to see if anything had been left behind by the owner. You find a crumpled napkin with someone’s number scribbled on, leaning in, you take an experimental sniff and draw away from it in disgust as the scent hits your nose.

You almost put it back, but you figured it was crumpled anyway, probably meant for a bin in the first place- so you put it there. Searching again and you smile when you come across a tub of lip balm, opening it and giving a little sniff of the inside. There’s no scent to it, and you curiously swipe a bit onto your finger and smear it onto your lips.

You begin to get a sense that the person this coat belongs to, has very refined tastes, and after a quick search, your eyes widen in shock when you discover the lip balm costs near fifty dollars.

Which is how it starts- an itch at the back of your head that tries to warn you of the possibility that the coat in your possession costs more than you’d initially thought.

You let out a slow breath, typing in the information stitched onto the label and your eyes bulge out of your head when you finally see the price of the coat sitting in your lap.

Three thousand.

The coat you stole had cost nearly three thousand dollars.

You look down at the item in betrayal, the scent of its true owner just barely clinging to it.

You take a deep breath, pushing your phone aside as you begin rummaging for a box capable of returning such an expensive item.

Thankfully, you know where to return it to, as the name and address had been hooked to the garment bag.

Delivering it is another difficult task on its own, but you manage, having to call in a few favours and explain in lengthy detail to the courier that your package wasn’t dangerous in any way but you’d rather not deliver it yourself.

Luckily, you’re able to convince them of your cause, the urge to help an omega in distress working in your favour.

It’s nine a.m on a Saturday morning when Billy comes home from his run.

He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he notices that there’s a box sitting in front of his door.

He pauses for a moment, looks at the item, before stepping forward to examine it.

There’s a card on top- one of those printed ones you can get at a convenience store- light blue sky and a panda holding onto a handful of bamboo stalks.

There’s an “I’m Sorry,” printed on, and then something added in below in pen.

‘From a very apologetic Omega.’ It says.

His eyebrows twitch in amusement, he brings the card up to his nose to catch a whiff- the scent of light, floral perfume fills his nose.

He’s aware his coat had been stolen, he’d seen video footage of the crime itself, watched as a small hooded frame had reached across and nicked his coat before it could be cleaned. The dry cleaners had sent him the footage when they’d explained what had happened.

He’d thought it had been gone for good, deleting the only copy of the footage and moving on. He could afford to replace one coat.

This though, was interesting, it seems like the omega had felt some sort of remorse, and had returned his coat to him.

It was sweet, he found himself smiling as he reached down to pick the box up, cradling it under one arm and flipping the card open as he enters his apartment.

‘Dear Alpha, I’m so sorry I took your coat. I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I couldn’t afford to have it dry cleaned for you. It’s wrapped tightly to protect you from the scent on it. I'd suggest not opening it, and taking it to be cleaned as soon as you get it. I’m very sorry. P.S. You have a very nice scent.’

He huffs, feeling a little sorry for an omega that couldn’t afford a dry cleaning bill, then again, the cost of the coat would definitely bring up the price a lot more.

Curiously, he tugs the box open, finding that the garment bag has been folded carefully and wrapped in plastic wrap.

He sniffs the box experimentally, searching for any hint of a scent, or any indication that the package could be dangerous.

All he gets is more of that pleasant perfume that he figured was doused in the box to protect him from the scent.

It only makes him more curious.

Billy grips the plastic wrap, and very carefully tears a little hole into the plastic, breaking the seal.

His body goes rigid.

He feels his pupils dilate, his hindbrain roaring to life as he catches the scent of an omega in heat.

His omega.

He rips the plastic furiously, fumbles with the garment bag and rips the zipper open. His eyes scan the coat, as he takes one long, slow breath.

The first scent he gets are apples, and then light notes of vanilla, but under it all, is the kick of pheromones, that sticks like honey on his tongue.

He takes another deep breath, groaning as his cock swells, pulsing to life, begging to claim the owner of such a delicious scent.

There’s so much of it, filling his space with sweet notes of frustration, yearning and unfulfillment.

His omega, needing him.

A growl tears from his chest, something inside of him collapses like an avalanche, only increasing with time, decimating his thoughts and leaving a feverish burn under his skin.

He tugs the coat open, groaning, the tart smell of cunt clings to the inside of his coat, telling him that his omega wore his coat naked.

Desperate little thing, he thinks, as he dips his hand into his joggers, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock, squeezing in an attempt to force his orgasm away. He groans, the grip around his cock rewarding him with pleasure, and he can’t help pumping himself, trying to ease the desire inside of him.

He leans in, nose pressed to the collar of his coat, where the scent is strongest, where his omega must have rubbed their little scent gland vigorously against his coat,

Sweet, delightful, his cock aches for a cunt he’s never seen, his mouth yearns for skin he’s never touched. All he has, is the honeyed scent of an omega’s heat, and the screaming inside of him that demands he claim what his body knows is his.

His grip on his cock tightens, his vision blurs, head full of thoughts, ideas of a little omega under him, sobbing as they take his cock repeatedly, begging for more with broken cries.

He doesn’t stop until he comes into his hand, only then, does his thinking sharpen.

He puts his coat in bed beside him, he hopes the sheets will absorb the smell, so that he can have his little omega with him while he sleeps. He wakes with an aching cock, and the coat clutched tightly against his chest, struggling to remember fading dreams of little omegas that beg nicely.

He doesn’t get out of bed until he’s come twice into the palm of his hand.

He searches for days.

But when he’d deleted the footage from the dry cleaners, he’d gotten rid of any hope of tracing his omega’s movements, and chances of finding an address.

She doesn’t leave any record of one, always opting to pick up her items herself.

At least he’s gotten that, a basic description, a height, an idea of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.

It was too vague to work with, but it was something he could think about before he went to sleep at night, with his nose buried in his coat, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to find the omega that had stolen his coat and unintentionally taken his heart.

He studies the card too, learns the handwriting, growing more and more desperate for his little omega.

Billy knew he wouldn't stop looking, not until he found the person who'd opened up a nest of possibilities in his head, giving him something he'd never had in a very long time.

Hope.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #Alpha!Billy Russo #billy russo smut

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deltaromeo3 · 11 months

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ ⋆ Lando Norris

pairing: Lando Norris x Leclerc!reader

warnings: crap french as always. this is a long one yall!

✿ A/N: I enjoyed writing this although it took me a while due to the writer’s block (sorry!). hope you enjoyed this!

requested by: this ask 🫶🏼

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” You stood frozen as the driver quickly hands you a napkin to wipe the drink that had now made it’s way to your top.

He continues to apologise profusely and you keep on assuring him its not a big deal.

“Are you sure? Is there any way I can make it up to you?” He says, looking up hopefully at you.

“Well I was gonna go to the bathroom and clean myself after this. Any better suggestions?”

He pauses, thinking for a second. “I have spare clothes in my motorhome. Not as fancy as your top though but it’s clean.” He looks at you, awaiting for a reply. He really looks like he was sorry that he ruined your top.

You smiled, “Yeah yeah that sounds good. And anyways a dry top is better than a wet one.”

He returns back the smile, “Okay cool. Come with me.”

You followed the driver all the way to his motorhome and thankfully it wasn’t far from the cafe.

He hands you a T-shirt, which was obviously too big for you but it’s not like you had any other choice anyways. You took the shirt and he exits the motorhome, giving you privacy to change.

You exit the motorhome and thanked him.

He smiles, apologising to you again. He really felt bad.

“Please let me how I can repay you for the damage I caused.” He says, almost like he was begging.

You chuckled, “It’s fine! I can just send this to the dry cleaners.” You say as you held up the top. “Don’t worry.” You reassured him again.

He snaps his fingers, almost like a light bulb lit up in his head. “Yes! That! Let me know how much it costs. I’ll gladly cover the expenses.”

You chuckled again, “If you insist.” You walked away, but quickly stopped in your tracks, turning around to ask him how the hell should you get in touch with him. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You quickly rushed down to Ferrari’s garage, now donned in someone else’s clothes.

You scurried as you were already late and your brother was expecting you any minute now. You placed the headset on your shoulder.

“Mon petit!” Your brother yells as soon as he spots you. He immediately engulfs you in a hug, but as soon as he pulls away, he takes a good look at you…. mostly eyeing your top.

His eyebrows furrow. “What happened to your pretty blouse?”

“Nothing much. Lando spilled his drink on it.” You sigh.

“Quel?! What?! Lando spilled his drink on you?”

You nod, laughing at your brother’s reaction.

“Oui. But it’s fine. It’s not a big deal, he gave me this shirt to wear so don’t go and hunt him down okay?”

Charles squints, unconvinced at your comment. “Okay.”

The race was finally over and you just reached your hotel room. You took off your shoes and plopped yourself on the bed, letting out a heavy exhale after the long day you just had.

You laid down for a good minute, afterwards sitting up as you had to take a shower. You were all sticky especially after getting a drink spilled on yourself.

You sat up, turning to the bedside table to charge your phone when suddenly you noticed an envelope with your name on it, leaning up against the lamp.

Curious to as what it was, you quickly opened it. And to your surprise, it was a cheque, written to you. With the cheque came a note that wrote:

“I’m sorry for ruining your top. Hope this enough for a new one x”

You smiled to yourself. Lando Norris, how thoughtful of you. He really was remorseful, huh?

You went to look at the amount he wrote on the cheque, immediately going wide-eyed.

Let’s just say you can buy one top and still have enough left.

That’s a really pretty top. I’m glad she got a new one after I ruined one. Oh! She even has new sneakers! She’s got good taste in shoes. She looks so pretty to-

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Max nudges me, bringing me out of my trance.

“Huh?” I turned my head to look at Max.

Max chinned towards her direction, “You seem to like her an awful lot,”

Did I really just out myself? Is it really that obvious?

I chuckled. “I can’t, she’s with Charles.”

Max bursts out laughing, like what I said was hilarious, absolutely hilarious.

“What! Why are you laughing?” I smacked him in the arm.

“Mate,” He pauses. “Don’t you know?”

“Know? Know what?” I looked at him, even more confused than before.

“She’s Charles’ sister.“

Sister. Somehow that hurt more than hearing ‘girlfriend’. But hey, i’m Lando Norris. I’m always up for a challenge.

I quirked my eyebrows, my interest immediately peaked, “Really? How come I haven’t seen her around before?”

“She was studying in the States and i’m pretty sure it was in Mechanical Engineering. You’d know that if you talked to her,” Max says, almost like he was proud with the information he just provided me with.

“You seem to know everything. Do you know if she’s single then?”

Max chuckles, “I’m sorry mate but I don’t. And why would I ask her that? I have a girlfriend,”

I shrugged.

“Why don’t you go and find out for yourself?”

“Maybe I will.”

“Vous êtes sûr? Are you sure? You’ll be okay on your own?” Charles asks.

You chuckled at his concern. I think Charles seems to forget that I studied overseas, so being independent isn’t much of a problem to me.

You nodded in response, “Go go! Have fun. I’ll catch a taxi back, pas de souci. Don’t worry.”

There was still a look of unsureness in your brother’s face, like he was really debating if he should leave. He asks again- if you’re sure. You nodded, reassuring him once again. He smiles and kisses your cheeks, telling you to send him a text as soon as you’ve reached your hotel. You agreed and he leaves with Carlos and a few other workers.

You wave him goodbye and proceed to walk off towards the direction of the exit but was stopped by a familiar figure walking my way.

I’m intrigued, he’s always with Max but this time he’s alone.

He walks your way as he recognises it was you.

“You’re not here to spill your drink on me again are you?” You joked.

“Oh no, I’m ‘fraid not,” He laughs at your comment. You could see him look around you, like he was looking for someone.

“What are you doing here all alone?” He asks.

“Charles left with some of the team to have some drinks. I’m actually headed back, gonna catch a taxi or something,”

His eyebrows furrow, “A taxi?”

“Yeah, a taxi. Why?”

“You don’t happen to stay at the Hilton, do you?” Again, with the look. The same look he gave when he spilled his drink on me. Those goddamn eyes I swear.

“Actually, yeah I am. Why?”

He smiles. “Good! Cause same. Come, I’ll give you a ride back.”

“Oh no, it’s fine rea-“ You try to decline his offer but he was quick to cut you off.

“Don’t be silly, it’s the least I can do for you.”

The least? Wasn’t the cheque enough? I’m not complaining though….

He starts walking off, but you still stood in your spot, in disbelief.

“You coming?” He turns his back.

You nodded and walked with him to his car.

The whole way back was surprisingly not awkward. You actually chat with him while he was driving, which was surprising because you often find yourself quiet around people you weren’t close to.

You were on the elevator, now on the way up to your room.

“By the way, you look great in that Quadrant tee. I’ve got a new collection coming so I’m thinking of sending some stuff to you. Would you be okay with that?”

You swear you could feel your brain going ‘??!!!???!’

Okay? OKAY? It’ll be more than okay.

You were smiling to yourself, but quickly stopped in case Lando caught on.

“Y-yeah!” You stuttered. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Great!” He says with a smile on his face. “Why don’t you give me your number so I can reach out to you for your details?”

You were blushing inside, but you did as you were told.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to text you,” He says as the elevator doors open and you exit, walking off to your room.

As you were about to tap your keycard, your phone vibrates. That was fast.

Text from: Unknown number.

- It’s me, Lando.

You laughed at the obviousness, not forgetting to save his number.

It was a normal Monday afternoon. You were in Charles’ kitchen, stocking up like you always do. He insists that you don’t need to do that but what were you supposed to do? You were free now that you’ve graduated and you didn’t feel like reading again.

You were enjoying the peace and quiet when suddenly he comes barging in.

“Y/N,” He says.

He never calls you by your name… so you must’ve done something wrong.

“Hm?” You responded, but you didn’t turn to face him. You continue to stock up his shelf.

“Dis-moi pourquoi je viens d'apprendre par Carlos que tu sors avec Lando? Tell me why did I just hear from Carlos that you're dating Lando?”

You gulped, stopping in your tracks. How did this reach Charles’ ears? Which motherfluffer snitched?!

You turned to face your brother slowly. He just stood there with a stoic look on his face.

“Surprise…?” Was all you could say.

“Unbelievable,” He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.

Did you expect your day to take such a sharp turn like this? Absolutely not. It was going well until just a few seconds ago when the news broke. Now, you were on the receiving end of his never ending nagging.

You were about to walk away when you heard Charles’ phone ring. It was Arthur and Enzo. Such great timing.

“Ca va!” He yells at them through the phone.

“Do you know our sister here is dating Lando?” The camera turns to you. You just gave them a tight lipped smile and waved.

A sea of ‘what?!’ came rushing. Charles turns to look at you, giving you the side-eye.

He proceeds to spill to them about how he found out. Apparently Carlos accidentally let it slip.

Of course, Enzo was perfectly fine about it but Arthur on the other hand was teasing you like no tomorrow.

“Lando needs to get his eyes checked, there’s something wrong with his eyesight.”

After what seemed like eternity, the call finally ends. There was bickering back and fourth between you and Charles but it wasn’t something you weren’t a used to. He was overprotective of you and with good reason.

You groaned. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,”

Charles sighs, “Êtes-vous heureux? Avec lui? Are you happy? With him?”

You nod, “Très, very,”

“Good. Because if ever see you crying, I know who to find,”

You smiled. “Je t’aime, I love you,”

“Je t’aime aussi, I love you too,”

You walk over to him, pulling him into a hug.

“N'oubliez pas d'utiliser une protection, dont forget to use protection, I don’t want to be a grandpa at 25,” He says while hugging.

You laughed, “Okay.”

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 imagines #deltaromeo3 #charles leclerc #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #f1 driver #lando norris imagines

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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omg i just watched scandal and there was a scene where fitz said “i am trying to get you pregnant. now be quiet and let me work” and i just can’t get that line with aaron out of my head!! can you write something about it?

dialogue changed a bit for context! main point is still there. this post is 18+, minors dni.

"-then I'll have to stop by the post office," You hum, and Aaron sucks harder at your neck. You let out a soft whimper, but nothing can distract you from your schedule.

"We need more cereal, so I'll swing by the grocery store next," You list off, and Aaron slots a knee between your thighs, "And- and then the dry cleaners is right in that parking lot, so- Aaron!"

What does you in is his teeth against your neck. He's sucked a raw bruise there and his teeth grate against it painfully, sparking agony and pleasure in a spiral down your spine.

"Yes?" He hums, muffled against your skin.

"Honey, I'm really busy today," You lament, and Aaron noses at another patch of skin against your neck, "Can we do this later?"

"I'll take some of your errands," He pledges, tongue sliding across your skin, "It'll be fine."

"No, no you can't, because the bathroom sink is clogged, and I need you to-!'

"I am trying," Aaron huffs, hips rolling down against your own as he pulls his head out of your neck, "To get you pregnant. Can you please stop worrying and let me work?"

You're finally pulled out of your stress spiral, blinking bewilderedly at him as your cheeks grow hot. Then, "Oh." You let out a breathy moan as he pushes his knee further against your cunt, "Uh, sure. Yeah. I like that idea."

"Oh, you do?" He grins smugly, leaning in to press the expression to your mouth. You nod into the kiss, and his teeth scrape at your bottom lip, stinging the skin.

"Stop worrying about errands," Aaron breaks the kiss, giving you a stern look, "Stress won't be good for our baby."

"Okay," You breathe, nodding as you watch his hand creep beneath the waistband of your shorts, "Oh-okay Aaron, I won't."

"Good," His face melts into a fond smile, and with the gentle brush of his thumb over your clit he's leaning in to kiss you again, "You don't need to worry about anything, honey. Just let me take care of you."

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impishjesters · 6 months

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Im so obsessed with the nonsexual intimacy headcannon between reader and Jax. They are SO good! You're wonderful at writing Jax as well, it feels v in character!! (Even if we only have one ep. :P)

If you like, I would love to see your take on Jax with a reader who makes stuff to show affection. Clothes, art, ect. ect.

If not, that's fine! I love reading through your blog enough on its own, haha!

Jax with a gift-giving affection s/o

warning(s): none A/N: You can't tell me Jax wouldn't get irritable during craft time, patience isn't his strong suit in this situation and he'd definitely overreact if something wasn't going as planned. It's craft time baby, not nuclear codes, you can breathe baby.

Jax isn’t the biggest fan of physical affection, he can but there’s a limit to how much he’ll tolerate.

Being shown your affection by handmade gifts? Well, he’s not used to receiving stuff like this but it’s an absolute breath of fresh air to the idea of being touched all the time.

If you’re his s/o then he’s a lot nicer about the stuff you make him, even if he doesn’t know what it is or have a use for it. (you could gift this bitch a rock with googly eyes and pipe cleaners and he’d still thank you and display it in his room, but in the back of his head he’s questioning what the hell this is and why you’re giving it to him)

If you aren’t dating yet then he’ll still accept the gifts but he’s more forward in asking what something is if he’s unsure. Which could sound like a genuine question or a flat-out rude statement, really depends.

Clothing and accessories are his favorite gifts because not only does he get to look snazzy, but he gets to show them off and rub it in other people’s faces that not only does he look bitchin’ but it’s you who made it for him.

He’s not typically vain but your clothing and accessories make his pride skyrocket.

Jax has zero creative crafting skills but he’ll often toss out an idea for something matching, usually something simple like an accessory but he’ll avoid matching rings. It feels too intimate, similar to certain other matching-themed items.

Now if you manage to rope him into making something with you, IE you supplying it and just sitting there making something together but separately.

The most this boy can make is a bead bracelet, the knot is awful so you’ll have to fix it later when he’s not looking. But hey, you get a one-of-a-kind Jax bracelet that looks like a child teenager made it. (he doesn’t have the patience for anything fancier)

Aside from clothing, Jax also favours any art stuff, especially if it’s of him. Since they won’t get as seen in his room he’s taken to displaying some of them around the tent with a not-so-vague threat that if anything happened to them he’d make sure the punishment followed the crime. (no Caine, you don't get to have an opinion, the picture is staying)

His favourite works stay safely in his room though, you don’t know it but he likes to look at them when he’s missing you. ew emotions

It doesn’t compare skill-wise, but Jax does occasionally try and gift you something in return.

Gangle somehow managed to rope Jax into joining her when crafting one time, saying it would be a nice little surprise to make something for you. (she was just lonely, she feels bad using you as an excuse like that but it worked!)

Once in a blue moon he’ll join Gangle to make you something, it’s a miracle Gangle puts up with him because his frustrations get a little wild for no reason. (he’s like a grumpy toddler in need of a nap time when he gets upset over crafting, man has no patience for the glue to dry)

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

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alwaysmicado · 2 months

Text

Sunshine

6.7k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 7

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, alcohol & painkillers, a little kiss, lots of sarcasm, angst, jealousy (reader would never!) Summary: A spontaneous meeting in a bar lays bare some uncomfortable truths. A/N: Why be sad when you can just turn off your feelings and not be sad anymore? It’s so easy. /s I can't tell you how much your messages about this series mean to me!! I love talking to you about it and I appreciate your enthusiasm and support soooo much!! Enjoy this part and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

→ previous part || series masterlist || main masterlist

The Birds Don’t Sing, They Screech in Pain

– Werner Herzog

– – –

You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart. The world is a joke and nothing you do matters.

And you got a great ass.

So fuck it.

You close the mirror cabinet and look at your reflection. The steam from your recent shower lingers in the air, creating a hazy atmosphere around you. With a determined gaze, you meet your own eyes, trying to convince yourself of what you so desperately want to believe.

You. Don’t. Have. Feelings.

Sighing exasperatedly, you leave the bathroom to go get dressed. You eye the empty space on the wall where the mirror used to hang in passing and can’t help but smile sardonically at the clean floor below. Who knew you had such a talent for cleaning blood?

If your current job doesn’t work out in the long run, crime scene cleaner could be a viable alternative.

You rummage through your drawer for a fresh pair of panties, a soft bralette without any bothersome hooks, and a flowy dress you can easily pull over your head. Comfort is key today. Your morning shower proved tricky enough, but you managed somehow, maneuvering very ungracefully to keep your injured hand dry.

Thankfully, you were smart enough to go to bed early last night and get up in time this morning, allowing you ample time to change the bandages and dress yourself with just one functional hand.

Exhaustion still lingers in every single one of your bones, but you’re determined to not let it get you down. Not again. So, you pour yourself a cup of strong coffee, sit outside on your balcony, pop the painkillers you got at the emergency clinic on Sunday, and browse the internet for a new mirror.

The sun kissing your skin feels nice, and the fresh air invigorates your senses. There’s even a flock of birds doing their choreographed dance in the sky. Just for you. You’re living in a goddamn dream, aren’t you?

You scoff, down the rest of your coffee, cough when it goes down the wrong pipe, and go back inside once you don’t feel like you’re choking to death anymore. It’s time for work.

Your boss graciously let you work from home on Monday and Tuesday, but since there’s an important meeting scheduled this morning, she’s asked you to come to the office today. The meds should get you through the day, you’ll just have to figure out how to do your job effectively without the ability to type with your right hand.

You could try to push some of your workload onto the new intern who’s been unsuccessfully trying to flirt with you for the past month, but he strikes you as the type to show up with flowers and a teddy bear after you compliment his sneakers once — it’s probably not the best idea to entertain him.

An office romance sounds hot on paper, but your job is the only halfway stable thing in your life, so you don’t want to mess it up for some guy. Especially if said guy looks young enough to get carded in bars.

Why can’t you just not need money and not have to go to work at all? Is that really too much to ask?

“Get your shit together,” you murmur to yourself as you grab your bag, your keys, and quickly check your appearance in the bathroom mirror. Eh, you look fine considering the messed-up past few days you had. The black wrist brace is kind of derpy—you can already see Kristen giggling at it and very much not believing any excuse you invent for it—but the smile you force onto your face looks virtually natural.

What a little sunshine you are.

Sandals on your feet, sunglasses sitting on your nose, wireless earbuds in your ears, your top three songs of the week on a blissful loop, you start your walk to the office. Nothing bad can touch you when the rhythm of your favorite beats courses through your veins, encapsulating you in an invincible cocoon.

For the first few minutes at least.

Your pulse quickens and your chest tightens as the gas station, where Joel could barely wait to pull out of you before gushing about his date, comes into view. And of course, Chris, the clerk, steps outside right as you pass it to inexplicably water the two withered plants next to the entrance.

You attempt to speed walk, hoping to avoid an embarrassing encounter, but where’s the fun in that, right? Sure enough, you hear him calling after you.

You roll your eyes behind your glasses and reluctantly stop, pulling out one of your earbuds as you turn to face him. His eyes fixate on the black brace around your wrist.

“What happened to your hand? Too much fun on the weekend?” he asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

You sigh, not in the mood for a detailed conversation, and also very much aware of what he’s probably insinuating. “Just a little accident at home,” you reply, keeping it vague. “Don’t do yoga if you’re drunk.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, he’s nice enough to not keep you any longer. “Well, I hope it heals soon. And let me know if you, uh, need anything. You know where to find me.”

You nod, offering a polite smile, and continue on your way, reinserting the earbud to drown out the world. You turn up the volume, lip-sync, and ignore Joel’s call without missing a beat.

– – –

“Please, tell me. Please, please, please. Come on…you know you’re gonna tell me eventually, so let’s just save us some time and get it over with. You know I can keep a secret.”

As expected, Kristen is very intrigued by your wrist brace. In fact, she has been switching between begging for you to tell her what happened and coming up with some outlandish theories since you sat down at your desk four hours ago. To nobody’s surprise, they all involve some sort of sex accident.

It’s kind of funny, though, that none of the elaborate stories she imagines come close to capturing the absurdity of your reality. Oh well, you’re used to it by now. And yet, there’s no way in hell you’re going to divulge one of your most vulnerable and embarrassing moments to her. Not a chance.

“I already told you,” you say without stopping your one-handed typing. “I got drunk watching The Bachelor and then my genius brain decided that was the perfect moment to try out some new yoga positions. It’s a miracle I only sprained my wrist and didn’t break my neck.” You put on your most convincing smile and look at her. “It’s embarrassing as shit, okay? I mean, look at this thing,” you point at your injured hand. “I look like a kid who fell off a swing on the playground.”

Kristen giggles and is about to say something, but right at that moment, she receives a phone call from a client. She sighs, narrows her eyes, and mouths, “This is not over.” You wink at her and go back to typing with your left hand, occasionally swearing under your breath when you hit the wrong keys. This is all so much fun.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur of emails, phone calls, bad coffee, painkillers, Kristen putting a heart sticker on your wrist brace, another meeting, and your phone lighting up with new messages from Joel.

By 5:30 p.m. your brain is about to explode, so you decide to call it a day and leave. There’s a frozen pizza waiting for you at home and you can hear your pajamas and sofa calling your name. Sweet, sweet solitude; it’s so close you can feel it. You just have to walk out fast eno–

“Drinks.”

“Did you seriously just hide behind that plant and jump out?” you chuckle, and Kristen’s grin tells you that is absolutely, one hundred percent what just happened.

“Drinks,” she repeats. And when you open your mouth, she says it again, but this time she gives you her most adorable pout.

“Okay, okay,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “You can stop the puppy routine.”

“I love how easy you are,” she beams at you and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Let’s go!”

The warmth of the summer evening envelops you both as you step outside. The sun, still casting its golden hues across the city, paints the urban landscape with a vibrant palette. Kristen, with a fancy sun hat perched on her head that perfectly complements her black hair, looks for bars near you on her phone.

As you try to decide on a bar, the balmy air carries the distant sounds of the city’s summer symphony. The occasional laughter from a nearby cafe mingles with the hum of traffic, creating a lively backdrop to your anticipation.

Amidst the ambient noise, your phone buzzes with Tommy’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Hi honey,” Tommy’s voice comes through, the background noise indicating he’s at a lively place. “Just calling to ask how you’re doing today.”

“You know you don’t need to call me every day to ask me that, right?” you chuckle, still unable to understand why he even cares. You don’t deserve him.

“Come on, it’s the highlight of my day,” he says in mock offense, and you can perfectly picture the grin on his face.

“Well, if it’s that important to you…” you say, a smile on your lips. “I’m good. My friend and I are going for drinks. Just need to decide on a bar first.”

“What a perfect coincidence! I’m at this new place right now. They got great burgers and drinks, even non-alcoholic stuff,” he tells you excitedly. “Oh and Joel’s here, too.”

Your heart skips a beat at Tommy’s words. Joel is there, at the same place. The thought of seeing him again stirs a concoction of emotions within you — longing, uncertainty, and a subtle yearning for things to be okay. There’s an undeniable pull. You miss him.

As you take a moment to think of your answer, Kristen mouths, “Who’s that?”

“It’s my friend, and he’s inviting us to join him at a bar,” you explain to her.

Tommy’s voice perks up on the phone, “Come on, it’ll be a blast. The more, the merrier!”

You look at Kristen questioningly, and she gives you two thumbs up and a big smile.

You sigh and look up at the sky. There’s a big bird chasing a smaller one. “Okay, we’re in,” you say to Tommy, and his excited shouts in your ear make you giggle. He sends you the location and you immediately order an Uber for you and Kristen. You don’t have to wait for long.

Sitting in the car, your initial, albeit reluctant, excitement has turned into annoyance as the hands of the clock seem to move at an agonizingly slow pace. What was supposed to be a ten-minute journey has stretched into an interminable thirty minutes, courtesy of the unrelenting rush hour traffic.

The air inside the car feels stifling, even with the AC humming, and the incessant chatter about football between the driver and Kristen becomes an indistinct drone. Your lack of interest in the sport combines with the whirlwind in your head, making their conversation an incomprehensible blur.

As your stomach churns, a sense of queasiness settles over you, intensifying the already uncomfortable ride.

By the time you make it to the bar, you’re tired, cranky, and wish you had just gone home after work. You could be lying on your sofa right now, stuffing your face with pizza, watching Netflix, and testing your new vibrator before falling asleep in your soft bed. But no, you just had to be social, hm?

As you enter the crowded and lively bar, the buzz of upbeat chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic thump of music surrounds you. Everyone’s loud and happy, and you’re just not in the right mood for it. Slowly making your way through the sea of faces with Kristen trailing behind, you spot Tommy seated in a cozy booth.

The mere sight of him puts you at ease — for about a second, that is.

Your eyes fall onto Joel and the woman who’s casually touching his shoulder, comfortably nestled against the plush cushioned seats. You’ve never seen her before, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a sober brain to figure out who she is. What is she whispering into his ear now? He’s laughing. You can see his eye crinkles from where you’re standing.

The sight is like a punch to your gut.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place, and the urge to turn around and run away grips you. Unwelcome emotions and memories surge back, catching you off guard and leaving you breathless. Just as you contemplate an escape route, Tommy spots you from across the room, his face lighting up.

“Sweetheart,” he shouts, rising from his seat and waving enthusiastically. His excited shout draws the attention of everyone around him, including Joel. Your eyes lock, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades. The corners of his lips instinctively turn upwards as he looks at you, but after spotting your wrist brace and the pained look on your face, he furrows his brow.

What the hell happened to you?

In the blink of an eye, you flip a switch in your brain, put on the most radiant smile you can muster, straighten your shoulders and cross the room. Joel’s concerned eyes don’t leave you for a second.

“There she is,” Tommy says, genuine warmth in his voice as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek, followed by a tight, comforting hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Tommy,” you murmur, a sense of momentary relief washing over you in the wake of his presence.

He pulls away from the hug, extending his greeting to Kristen, before introducing you both to the beautiful brunette sitting next to his brother. Draping his arm around your shoulders, he tells you with a smile that, “This is Jan, an old school friend of mine. We actually didn’t plan this whole meeting with everyone, somehow we just all ended up here. Funny coincidence,” he chuckles and you strain the muscles around your mouth so hard it hurts.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jan,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. She reciprocates your greeting and gives you a charming smile.

“And I don’t need to introduce you to this guy, huh?” Tommy grins, squeezing your shoulder.

Your gaze shifts to Joel, who’s caught in the limbo of whether to remain seated or stand up, so he ends up awkwardly half-standing, caged in the narrow space between the bench and table.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, your eyes lacking their usual vivacity—a detail not lost on him.

He settles back into his seat, audibly clearing his throat. “Hi, darlin’.”

He studies your face as you settle down beside Tommy. You look as beautiful and glowing as always, but the longer he looks, the more cracks in the carefully put up facade he can see. Your smile isn’t genuine, your eyes look a bit swollen—like you’ve been crying or not sleeping well—and your body language screams unease.

The others may not notice, but he does. Because he knows you.

Kristen takes a seat beside Jan, seamlessly weaving herself into the ongoing conversation with Joel. Her ability to navigate social dynamics with such ease leaves you marveling – how is she so good at this? Her charm extends, connecting the trio in animated small talk.

Your body eases into a semblance of relaxation as Tommy pulls you closer and presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, a tender reassurance that brings a sense of solace.

Sitting up straight, you return his smile, gratitude evident in your eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Tommy beams at you, momentarily lost in the exchange, before redirecting his attention to the group. “Are you guys ready for a first round of drinks?” he asks, the unison response from everyone echoing with enthusiasm, a collective “yes” that adds a burst of energy to the already vibrant atmosphere.

– – –

After three rounds of drinks (you very responsibly decided to change to coke after one mojito), burgers, nachos, sharing the epic tale of how you managed to hurt your hand doing yoga, Jan gossiping about the guy her adult daughter brought home last week, Tommy sharing hilarious stories from his and Joel’s workplace, and everyone seemingly having loads of fun, you let yourself relax a bit.

It’s nice witnessing Joel’s laughter and enjoyment. A warmth spreads through your heart at the sight, a flicker of happiness for him. Yet, the subtle discomfort lingers as Jan’s touch becomes a constant presence on his arm. Rationalizing it as a casual gesture during conversation and under the influence of drinks doesn’t fully erase the twinge of unease settling within you.

But you can handle it, you convince yourself.

Until you can’t.

You can’t handle it when Jan’s hand finds its way to Joel’s thigh and her lips brush the shell of his ear.

You glance at Joel, searching for a reaction, a flicker of discomfort perhaps, but his response is subtle. A shift in his seat, a movement so slight it could be mistaken for a casual adjustment, yet there’s a discernible change in his demeanor. It’s a momentary pause, a beat in the rhythm of the evening.

The weight of the scene bears down on you, and you feel a pang of vulnerability, a subtle ache in your chest. In that split second, a mix of emotions surges within you – a tinge of hurt, a brush of jealousy, and a sting of betrayal.

Emotions you haven’t felt in years. Emotions you have sworn to yourself you’d never feel again.

Why does it bother you so much? Is it because it reminds you of how you touched him, how you ran your hand further and further up his thigh when he was taking you home for the first time, teasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore, pulled his car over and fucked you in the driver’s seat? Has she done that with him? Is she as addictive as you are?

This close to a full-blown panic attack, you jump up from your seat to the surprise of everyone at your table. You make brief eye contact with Kristen, who shoots you a sympathetic look.

Excusing yourself, you navigate through the bustling crowd towards the restrooms, located downstairs and accessible via a staircase. There are three separate spacious restrooms, and you choose the first one. Inside, you immediately head to the sink, running your left hand under cold water. The sensation helps to calm you down.

Closing your eyes, you take deep breaths, reassuring yourself that it’s not a big deal, and that it’s exactly what it was always meant to be—probably even for the best.

Then, as you try to find composure, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Occupied!” you yell in response to the knock, and then you hear Joel’s deep voice saying, “It’s me.”

Of course it is.

You sigh exasperatedly and shuffle to the door to let him in. Joel enters, swiftly locking the door behind him.

“There’s two other restrooms, you know,” you murmur as you walk back to the sink and divert your attention to your reflection in the mirror, concentrating on fixing your hair.

“Yeah, well, I specifically want the one with you in it,” he says with a little smirk, his eyes searching for yours in the mirror. As your gaze meets his, he’s taken aback by the lack of the usual sparkle that used to light up your eyes at the sight of him. The absence of that adoration he’s grown accustomed to leaves a void, and a tinge of concern creeps into his expression.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, his voice softer than before. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

You look at him, and the weariness in your eyes doesn’t escape his attention. There’s a distant quality to your gaze, and it sends a pang of worry through him. The connection he once felt in your eyes seems to have dimmed, and he can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

It’s the same expression you had when he last saw you. He hates it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you respond, putting on your fake smile again, but the lack of conviction in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel’s concern deepens as he steps closer, the teasing smirk replaced by genuine worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t responded to any of my texts or calls.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “I was worried something happened, and—he points at your injured hand—my feeling was right.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “What happened?”

You turn around and lean against the sink, holding your right arm with your left hand, your eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. “I told you already,” you say nonchalantly. “Getting drunk and trying to do elaborate yoga poses is a dumb idea if you’re as clumsy as me.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, not believing a word you’re saying. “That’s not all, is it?”

“What do you mean?” you say, feigning ignorance.

“You don’t seem like yourself and I’m…worried about you.” Joel’s concern etches lines on his forehead as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, narrow slightly as he studies your seemingly cheerful facade.

“But this is myself.” You point at your smiley face with your left hand and tilt your head. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head, a subtle sigh escaping him. “That’s not what I said. I just feel like something’s off.”

“Is it because I’m happy?”

“It’s because I don’t believe you’re happy. I know you too well, baby.”

You scoff, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’m happy? Do you want me to be miserable?”

“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But you’re lying to my face right now and I don’t appreciate that.”

You turn your head to avoid his gaze, your silence speaking volumes, your hand tightly gripping the flesh of your arm as if to contain the emotional turmoil threatening to spill over.

Stop it.

“Darlin’,” Joel says gently, closing the physical gap between you two, and reaching out to place his warm palms on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

A shiver runs down your spine and tiny goosebumps instantly form on your skin. You’ve missed his touch more than you care to admit — to yourself or to him. His touch is tender, a plea for connection, but you hesitate. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, revealing the deep sadness you tried to conceal.

What happened to you? Whatever it was, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to protect you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

“Not everything’s about you, Joel.”

“I know that. I just…wish you would let me know what’s going on.” His touch becomes a subconscious reassurance as he absentmindedly rubs your arms, as if trying to make sure you’re really there in front of him.

“Why do I owe you that? Why do I owe you every shitty detail of my life while I know virtually nothing about you?” you say a little sharper than intended.

Joel takes a deep breath. “You don’t owe me anything. I just thought–” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I miss seeing that spark in your eyes when you look at me,” he admits, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I never fully realized how much it meant to me until now.”

You take a moment to process his words and his touch as frustration bubbles up inside you. Your heart aches.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Caring about you?”

“Ruining the mood.” You shake your head, swallowing what you actually want to say, any traces of happiness erased from your face. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it’s starting to work.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to understand what’s happened since the last time I saw you.” He tilts his head and studies your face, genuine concern in his eyes.

All you can see, though, is disappointment. He’s disappointed in you, you can sense it. And how could he not be? You’re a liability, a mess. Looks like he’s finally seeing you for who you are, and that’s why he replaced you.

“And now’s the best time to do that?” you scoff, averting your gaze and looking around.

“What am I supposed to do when you don’t respond to me for days on end and this is my only chance of talking to you?”

You look back into his eyes. “How about leaving it alone?”

“I can’t do that. Not when it comes to you,” he says, shaking his head and moving closer, his cologne filling your senses like a familiar embrace. His hands trace the contours of your neck, a gentle and deliberate touch that ignites a cascade of sensations. His thumbs brush your cheekbones with a tenderness that speaks of longing, his gaze dropping to your lips before finding your eyes again.

In that charged moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken desires before you both succumb to the magnetic pull drawing you together. Your heartbeat quickens, matching the rhythm of anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The familiar sensation of his lips on yours is both electric and comforting, and you allow yourself to get lost in it for a bit.

As he eases away, his fingers trail lightly down your neck and arms, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. There’s a soft smile on his lips as he breaks the silence.

“I mean it when I say I care about you and want the best for you, darlin’,” he murmurs. “And you don’t have to tell me any details about what happened if you’re not ready yet, but I need to know what made you not want to call me. We’ve been there for each other in difficult situations before, so I just really don’t get it.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, frustration and anger intertwining with the lingering memory of his lips on yours.

“Why in the world would I ever call you while you’re on a date?” you say quietly, a steely edge in your voice, no trace of a smile to be found on your lips.

Oh. So it did bother you.

Joel’s expression shifts from concern to a momentary realization, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I would always drop everything to be there for you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

You laugh wryly. “Joel. Seriously. Are you really trying to tell me you were oh so worried about me while you were fucking someone else? And that you’re worried now even though she’s currently upstairs, desperately waiting for you to take her home? Come on, don’t insult my intelligence.”

He stares at you in utter disbelief and takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the weight of your words. “That’s not what–”

“Look, Joel,” you push yourself off the sink, straighten up, and walk past him towards the door. “It doesn’t matter. You can fuck or date whoever you like. Jan seems nice and like a good match, so I’m very happy for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not doing any of that. You misunders–”

You turn around sharply to look at him. “I misunderstood the woman who’s had her hands all over you the whole evening?”

“It’s not like that,” he insists, trying to get through to you. “She’s drunk as hell and probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. And I’m not interested anyway.”

“Sure. That’s why she’s here right now.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Tommy invited her without telling me,” he says, running his fingers through his hair as his stress is mounting. “Darlin’, please. This isn’t even about her; it’s about you and me. And maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s okay when it’s clearly not.”

You turn your head, deliberately avoiding the intensity of his gaze as the weight of his words settles in. His plea sends palpable waves of discomfort through your already wounded emotions, causing your chest to tighten further. Why is he doing this? Is this fun for him?

“So you’d rather keep pretending everything’s fine?” he presses, his tone a mix of concern and urgency, the edges of his patience beginning to fray.

Okay, now you’ve had it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Joel. What do you want from me?” you hiss at him, frustration dripping from your words.

Joel is momentarily taken aback, but his own agitation prevents him from fully grasping your distress. A deep sigh escapes him as he props one hand on his hip, rubbing his eyes wearily with the other.

“Since when does it matter what I want?” he murmurs.

Ouch.

That hurt.

Your face falls, and you feel like he just slapped you across the face. The sting of his words cuts deep, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

Joel’s eyes widen in shock when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, realizing the impact of his words a moment too late. “I’m sorry, baby, I–” his voice trembles with regret, desperate to undo the damage he’s done.

“Is that how you really feel? That I don’t care about what you want?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“No, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so–”

“But that’s how you feel? Deep down?”

Why are you acting so surprised? Were you really naive enough to believe him when he said he was happy with you? God, you’re dumb.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he reaches out to wipe away the tears that are making their way down your cheeks, but you push his hand away.

“I came here for you, Joel,” you blurt out, your raised voice startling him. “And I–I spent the last three hours making conversation with everyone, including the woman you’re fucking, because I care about you and want you to be happy, even though my hand is killing me and I’m so drained I have to force my eyes to stay open.”

You express yourself with animated hand gestures as you talk through your tears, your voice breaking.

“I had a horrible weekend and needed some time to recover, but I was so fucking happy to see you tonight because I’ve missed you and I’ve–I’ve never hidden how much I like spending time with you. Why is that not enough? What more do you want from me?”

Your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s, and the fact that he’s the reason for your tears pierces his heart.

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t right what I said.”

He takes a step closer to you, the desperation in his eyes matching the pain in yours, intending to pull you into a comforting hug to calm you—and himself—down. However, you immediately take a step back, creating a physical distance between you two.

“Do you want me to cry ‘cause seeing you with another woman breaks my heart? Is that it?”

Joel stares at you incredulously, your accusing tone making him wince. “No, of course no–”

Your heart is racing, and you can feel the tightness in your chest growing with every second you’re looking into Joel’s eyes. Eyes that—until now—have always made you feel so calm, so safe, so…loved. Your hands tremble slightly, and a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to speak.

“Do you want me to make a scene in front of everyone ‘cause it physically pains me to think you’re touching her the same way you touch me?”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, a fleeting impulse to express himself and try to console you, but he catches himself, realizing that uttering those words might inflict more damage than repair right now.

“Do you want me to beg you not to leave me ‘cause I can’t even imagine my life without you anymore? Is that what you want?”

“Sweetheart...” He takes a step towards you, his eyes pleading, but you cut him off.

“No, I’m fucking sick of this,” your words spill out between sobs as tears stream down your face. “It’s always the same. I’m good enough only as long as I act the way you want it, and the minute you get bored or realize I’m not as perfect as you imagined, you replace me with someone better. Everyone always fucking leaves and I’m so sick of it.”

“Darlin’, I swear that’s not what’s happening,” Joel implores, his whole body so tense and hot he’s sweating through his shirt. “I’m not leaving and I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You sigh deeply, grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, blow your nose, and dry your tears.

“I knew this was gonna happen and I still let myself believe I could be enough for once,” you murmur more to yourself than him, your head pounding painfully.

Serves you right for having feelings.

Joel says your name gently, trying his best not to spook you. His words hang in the air like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to mend what is broken.

“You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

Your head is spinning, emotions tumultuous and unyielding. In dire need of fresh air and distance from Joel, you stagger towards the door. His voice follows you, pleading.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going to leave you. And I’m so incredibly sorry for upsetting you, I just–” he exhales deeply and clears his throat. “I wanted you to be honest with me about your feelings, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. I’m sorry.”

The door swings open, and you turn around, the forced smile from before back on your lips.

“Well, congratulations, Joel,” you say, your tone laced with a mix of bitterness and anguish. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Joel stunned, alone with the haunting echoes of shattered trust and unspoken pain, the distant thump of music mirroring the beating of his remorseful heart.

As you make your way back upstairs, the residual heat of the argument lingers on your skin. Taking a deep breath, you enter the lively space once more. Tommy, who’s standing at the bar, notices you, concern etched across his face.

“Hey, is everything okay, honey?” he asks, his voice soft with genuine worry.

You manage a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. My hand’s just hurting really bad now and the meds make me dizzy, so I’ll head home.”

He furrows his brow. “Joel’s my designated driver, but I can take a cab, so he can drive you home.” He looks around, searching the bar for his brother. “Where is he anyway?”

“There’s a huge line in front of the restrooms, he’s probably still waiting. And it’s okay, Tommy, really.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, seeking solace, and bury your face in the crook of his neck. He responds by pulling you into a warm and reassuring embrace, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words. Luckily, he’s drunk enough not to smell his brother on you.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your eyes closed.

Tommy strokes the back of your head and chuckles. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

He pulls away far enough to look into your eyes, giving you the brightest smile. “Tell you what. You come over for dinner on Friday — no ifs, ands, or buts. Maria’s been wanting to see you, and we just finished our patio, so it’s perfect.”

You pinch his cheek and shake your head at him. “It’s not fair that you’re this charming, you know? How could I ever say no?”

“Don’t say no, then,” he says playfully, a hint of worry still in his eyes.

You sigh exaggeratedly. “Okay, okay, I won’t.”

“Attagirl. And you’re sure you don’t want Joel to drive you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I always find my way home somehow.” You plant a kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and he finally agrees to release you from his embrace after securing a pinky promise that you ‘a hundred percent won’t flake out’.

You walk over to Kristen and Jan, who are still sitting at your table, engrossed in an animated conversation. Observing them for a moment, you find yourself captivated by Jan’s effortless charisma. She’s a real sunshine — and unlike you, she doesn’t have to fake it. Had you met her under different circumstances, you might have liked her.

Kristen’s eyes meet yours, and her brow furrows slightly, registering the expression on your face for a fleeting moment. Swiftly, you put on a polite smile and step closer, masking the momentary vulnerability with practiced ease.

“Ladies,” you say, a touch of self-deprecating humor in your tone, “I know I’m lame, but I’m actually going home already. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

Jan answers first, surprising you with a warm smile. “Oh, that’s not lame at all! You’re just smarter than us.”

You hold up your injured hand and deadpan, “Yeah, I’m a real genius, aren’t I?”

Jan and Kristen giggle, and you join in, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie. You’re so good at this. Almost believable.

As you look for your bag on the bench, contemplating the logistics of your departure, Kristen catches your eye and winks at you.

“I’ll come with you,” she says, giving you a reassuring look. “Our boss is gonna have a fit if I fall asleep at my desk again, so…I guess this is what being a responsible adult is,” she sighs. She hands you your bag, downs the rest of her drink, and the two of you say goodbye to Jan, who’s now getting up to search for the Miller brothers.

Kristen takes you by the hand, gently leading you outside. The cool breeze brushes against your face as the sun starts its descent, offering a much-needed breath of fresh air. Settling down down on the curb together, you find a comfortable spot, trying your best not to inadvertently flash someone as you adjust your dress.

“I’ll call us an Uber,” Kristen says, her tone comforting. You appreciate the warmth of her presence as you wait for the ride, the fading sunlight casting a soft glow on both of you.

“Done.” She wraps her arm around you, providing a supportive shoulder for you to lean on. The two of you sit in silence, the ambient noise of traffic and distant chatter from the bar filling the air, serving as a backdrop to the racing thoughts in your mind. Eventually, Kristen succumbs to her curiosity.

“So…” she starts, her voice carefully navigating the sensitive terrain. “That’s him?”

You chuckle faintly. “Yup. That’s him.”

“Hmm, I get it now. He’s hot as fuck,” she says, happy that she can make you laugh. “Do you think he’d be up for a threesome?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be up for it. I’m just not so sure about his heart being able to take it. Or his back. Or his knees.”

Kristen giggles and then looks at you for a moment, fascinated by this evening’s revelations. “It’s so interesting, I had no idea you were into older guys.”

“I, uh, didn’t know either before I met him.”

“I see,” she nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. Another minute of shared silence passes before she decides to just come out and ask you the one burning question on her mind.

“Do you love him?”

You don’t need a second to think about your answer.

– – –

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cinnamoneve · 8 months

Text

𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐲.

idolatry \ īˈdälətrē \ (n.) - extreme admiration, love, or reverence for something or someone.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x fem!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: your boyfriend just makes the perfect wedding date ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader is wearing a dress, is called beautiful, shorter than gojo, reader drinks alcohol ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.8k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: you are all subject to me writing self indulgent fics ♡ currently stuck at an airport for a wedding tomorrow and this man would look so fine in a suit (also i Would Like to marry him). anyways i love you thank you for reading !!!

any excuse gojo satoru had to dress up and take the night off, he’d eat up.

you offhandedly mentioned to your boyfriend that you had a family wedding coming up. fortunately, you were given the opportunity to bring a plus one–and you knew just the man for the occasion.

“should we match? and coordinate our outfits?”

“it’s not high school prom, satoru. we don’t have to match”

he didn’t know. while his life had been very well lived in his 28 years, attending a wedding hadn’t been crossed off his list yet. he’d secretly hoped that the first one he would attend would be yours, with him standing across from you to seal in your devotion to one another for the rest of your lives.

but alas, he can’t get what he wants this time.

while he’s met your family here and there, this will be the first full-scale event where you’re hard launching your boyfriend into the family. it’s a lot at once. for a normal person, it’d be overwhelming. but most weren’t people-oriented the way your boyfriend was.

“can you at least tell me the color of your dress?”

“it’s green”

“green suit then. got it.”

reading your body language and glare burning the back of his head, satoru was quick to write it off as ‘kidding!’ of course you believed him, but half of your brain told you not to.

you had almost forgotten about it all until the day of the event, when satoru picked up his suit from the dry cleaner. you tried to steal a peek underneath the white bag, but he playfully swatted you away with a “nuh-uh.” you pushed it from your mind and continued to get ready.

satoru’s cologne was always the indication that it was time to go. subtle yet overwhelming, the musky scent filled the air of any room he walked into. it felt like he applied enough so everyone could smell it, but you could only appreciate it if you were buried into his neck. it sucked you in and was warm enough to feel like an embrace. when you could hear him applying his cologne, the scent came moments later, and so did the nerves.

usually in uniform or in sweatpants, rarely could satoru go all out and dress to the nines. you’ve only been lucky to see it once or twice, but never to this extent.

you walked out of the bathroom to meet him, and man, he looked good. it took everything in you to remember the commitment you made to your family and your rsvp instead of staying home and jumping him there.

in his black suit, he definitely cleaned up well. the black suit only contrasted his snow-white hair, which matched into the white button-up he paired underneath. after the first wave of nerves and infatuation passed, you were relieved to note he wasn’t wearing a full-green suit like he’d teased. the harder you looked, though, you could see glimpses of yourself and his love woven in the outfit. a green pocket square, a thin green tie, and even socks to match.

he even matched his cufflinks to the type of metal your jewelry was.

gosh, he was so perfect sometimes, it infuriated you. this time, you could let it pass. maybe just this once.

he let out a whistle when his eyes met yours.

“you look beautiful, love”

“you don’t look so bad yourself, satoru”

“oh don’t be mean, you were practically drooling over there”

“shut up,” you laughed. he pulled you into a kiss to meet your giggles halfway. he just loved to kiss you when you were smiling, just so he could taste how happy he made you.

satoru wore his happiness on his sleeve; probably more, if there was even a phrase for it. you could hear that he was smiling when he talked. he would smile while kissing you, which would always pull and curl his lips in a way that made you melt. he was so unapologetically and irrevocably in love with you, and the best way to show it was with his smile–in any way he could.

he pulled your hand close, placed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and led you outside to the car. opening the door for you like the gentleman he was, you feigned a “wow, thank you, baby” to make him feel so chivalrous, as if he doesn’t do it every time

and you did the same, as you always had, when he opened the door for you at the venue. he took your hand so tenderly in his as you walked inside.

the ceremony was intimate, so you and most of the party were only attending the reception. satoru was already confused by the proceedings and this didn’t help his case.

“so they’re already married? they already kissed the bride? we missed the vows?”

“yes, love,” was the only way you could answer. it was almost a soft launch into a wedding for him. no formalities of ceremonies that were following any specific practice or culture, just dancing and alcohol with a side of celebrating love.

boy, you needed a drink. gojo had a million questions about family members he hadn’t seen in a while, how they were, and if they would remember him.

you both made your rounds during the cocktail hour to greet old and new friends and family. always the social butterfly, satoru seemed to command every conversation and have everyone feel included and heard.

he had a certain air about him that made anyone he was talking to seem like the most important person in the world. he was an avid listener, eye-contact enthusiast, and lover of remembering details about people. oh, you told him you were looking to vacation in europe last time he saw you? best believe he’d ask if you’ve gotten there yet.

because he was driving, satoru drank just enough to get him loose. meanwhile, family events made you slam drink after drink. something about all your family in a dance hall with an open bar just spoke to you.

the rest of the night flowed as it usually did. you had found your seats with some of your favorite family members, and gojo made a point to sit as close to you as he could.

it was one of your favorite things about him. he unconsciously always scoots his chair closer to you, so at least your legs would be touching. such a clingy man–he’d die before anyone at that table but you knew it though.

so under the table his affection stayed, in the form of foot taps and unconscious shapes drawn on your thigh as he talked to one of your cousin’s boyfriends.

the alcohol had made you a little spacey before the reception truly kicked off. the couple had their first dance, and afterwards, all the couples in the room were invited to share it with them.

satoru giggled at you.

“why are you looking at me like that”

“i just think you’re pretty, satoru”

he slowly stood up and adjusted his suit jacket.

“if you wanted to ask me to dance, you could’ve just asked. there’s no need to be shy about it, baby”

maybe it was the alcohol, but something about satoru tonight made your heart skip a few beats. it did turn you a little shy, you realized. you felt the blush creeping up your face as he grabbed your hand.

“may i have this dance?”

so lame. it was so lame. so cliche, overdone, movie-esque…the list can go on. normally, you would’ve faked a gag at this line. he loved to pull out the cheesy lines to make you squirm.

nothing came out this time. you just looked at him with your cheeks hot, shyly looking away as you rose to meet him.

satoru led you to the dance floor before putting his hand on your waist with your clasped hands at your sides. you found yourself buried into his chest, listening to his heartbeat in line with the slow song playing in the background. the music seemed to fade out of your mind as it felt like the two of you were the only people on the dance floor.

he kept the pace (and kept you upright) as the two of you stepped back and forth with one another, bodies falling into each other to the tune of the song.

his cologne was intoxicating. something about it made your heart soar. you wanted to get ready with him for the rest of your lives. stupid how something as simple as whatever he decided to spray had you wanting it to be your reminder of plans every time you made them. you hoped that scent would be your own personal alarm every time you and satoru had somewhere to go. hell, you’d make plans if it meant he’d fill up the house with this little piece of himself.

“what do you think our wedding will be like?”

the vibration of satoru’s chest with his question pulls you out of your thoughts.

you think about it for a bit. you wondered what the two of you would be like by then. it could be tomorrow or in five years–either way, you wouldn’t be the same as you are now. just the thought alone made you excited.

you were in love with him, definitely. in love with who he was about to be, in love with who he was when you met him. who he was when he woke up this morning, yesterday, last week, and who he’ll be tomorrow. it was all unknown. but not a scary unknown, no; it was comforting that you two grew adjacently to one another, yet, together.

that’s love, you realized. maybe it’s not sharing your first dance among your friends and family, or standing face-to-face professing your vows, or wearing white or taking some seal to honor and love each other for as long as you live.

it was something in-between, something unwritten; hidden between open car doors and cufflinks.

you would dance with him as long as you could, though. at least you had known that for sure. happiness with satoru must be between slow dancing together, wondering when he’d pull you close and dip you, each time pretending he was going to drop you because he thought it was funny, just to kiss you when he pulled you back up. or maybe when he’d twirl you off his hand, stealing a glimpse at the way your eyes stayed on him while you slowly spun.

the rest of the night was incredibly uneventful. satoru danced with all of your aunties and your mother, stealing them away to tell them how beautiful they looked so they’d feel loved.

maybe it was the alcohol clouding your mind, or maybe it was the most sober thought you’d had all night, but like satoru, you found yourself wishing that the next wedding you go to would be your own.

all content © cinnamoneve 2023. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #★ jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #if there’s any formatting issues #im posting this from a plane #pls forgive. Will fix when i land #thanks i love you #♡ satoru

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mingigoo · 1 year

Text

happy new year🍸✨ || park seonghwa (m)

🍸 pairing ⇢ art major! (fem) reader x med-school student! Seonghwa x San (kind of)

🍸 summary ⇢ after a hell of a night of drinking god knows what, you wake up in the arms of your sworn enemy. Clothes? Gone. Sanity? Also gone. That is, until he wakes up before you get the chance to leave.

🍸 genre/ au⇢ enemies to lovers, one night stand au, smut, slight angst, some fluff

🍸 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors dni, one night stand, heavy drinking, party, sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, cream pie, seonghwa is super smart, seonghwa wears glasses, licking, biting, bruising, slight dirty talk, name calling, I am not a science professional please forgive me if things are not correct, language, a touch of after care, y/n is a freak but we love her, once again if I forgot something feel free to let me know so I can add it.

🍸 word count ⇢ 9.2k

🍸 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @meowmeowminnie @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme

New year's. A new beginning. A flush of new opportunities to change habits and fall in love.

Some people will do anything to find the love of their life. You, well, the new year wasn't for praying for love or longing for that New Year's Eve kiss. You had no expectations for falling into the scheme of chemicals disguised as love.

So, on the very night, as others held hands, kissed, and enjoyed another year together, you partied the night away like it had no meaning.

This new year, however, your typical party-hard behavior ended with you in someone else's bed, glitter in your eyes, and your legs tangled with your enemy.

What the fuck happened?

—

11:25 am

New Year’s Day.

Your head was spinning.

Flashbacks of the night before flooded your vision even before you opened your eyes. Your toes were peeking out of the fluffy duvet that one hundred percent didn't belong to you, your hands grasping onto someone else's.

You were afraid to open your eyes, to be honest.

Flashes of glitter, champagne, kisses, touches, dancing. It was all too much, and the minute you felt someone’s warm breath run down your neck, you became aware of the strong arm that held you to his body.

And that's when it hit you.

Last night, after way too much alcohol and mixtures of shots and god knows what else, you shared your midnight kiss with someone you dreaded.

Well, at least used to dread.

You opened your eyes quickly, staying as still as ever to not wake him. You didn't trust your drunk mind—you wanted to make sure it was….him.

You looked down at the hand that was wrapped around you. His fingers cupped your breast, holding you to him like you were made for him. Your heart began to beat faster as you noticed how he was holding you, and you slowly moved your head to face your enemy.

Park Fucking Seonghwa.

There he was, in all his glory. His black hair still looked flawless,his lips parted as he breathed. They were swollen, painted red from your lipstick. You held your breath and swallowed hard, unable to look away from him from the shock.

Or maybe, just maybe, you thought he was absolutely gorgeous and couldn't believe he just fucked you after staying he hated you the day before.

You blinked, and finally tore your gaze from him.

It wasn't unusual for you to wake up in a foreign bed tangled in a mess of limbs. It was a part of your party lifestyle, and never wanting to settle. The man that you slept with, though, was someone you never imagined would have a one night stand.

He was too good to be true, which is why you couldn't believe it. He was fine-cut, clean, and someone who was a lover of all things traditional. He wears suits freshly pressed from the dry cleaners, round rimmed glasses, and a permanent smirk as if he was better than everyone else.

To be honest, he was. Which is why you hated him.

He was too perfect. And now, here you were, with said perfect man, your naked bodies pressed against each other.

You let out a groan, unsure about how to get out of this situation. Ever so slowly, you wrapped your fingers around the hand that gripped your breast, prying his godly fingers off your skin. You breathed slowly as you set his hand down, and then you slipped out of the covers.

Your bare feet landed on the cold hardwood, and you let out a sigh of relief. You looked over at him before finding your dress that you vividly remember him ripping off of you, and of course, it was torn right down the middle.

“Fuck.” you whispered, although it wasn't quiet enough.

He gasped awake, pushing himself back against the headboard. His eyes were frantic, searching all over the room until his eyes met yours. And then they trailed down, and down, and down, as he soaked up your nakedness. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, not even pulling up the covers to hide his bare chest. “y/n? Where are your clothes?”

You stood like a deer in headlights, scared enough to not even bother to hide yourself. He saw it all, anyway.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, holding up the destroyed dress in your hands. “You tore it off my body…”

He squinted his eyes, unable to see without those glasses of his. He reached over onto the nightstand, and quickly tossed on those sexy ass round-rimmed glasses. And that's when another flashback hit you.

“What the hell happened last night?”

—

New Years Eve,

9:05 pm.

“Make sure you bring some painkillers, y/n,” your best friend San said as you stuffed the necessities into your purse. “I know how you get.”

You chuckled and tossed a whole bottle into your purse. “I got you, Sannie.”

You and san were besties. Not just you two, but you had a whole friend group. Wooyoung, hongjoong, San, A mixture of personalities, but you liked to consider your group a bunch of party-hards. All except one of them.

Seonghwa, who was hongjoong’s roommate, joined the friend group last new years. He was the stick up the ass friend that wouldn't like to come to parties, and his priorities lied with passing his boards. A smarty pants, of course, and you couldn't blame him for his efforts to do well. You just didn't care the same way he did.

Which is why he didn't like you.

He also studied the brain while you studied art, which he thought was tedious. He knew everything about your brain while you couldn't even pick apart his expressions, which pissed you off all the time.

“Oh, one more thing,” San poked his head into your room, a sinister smile on his face. A face you've kissed one too many times. “Seonghwa is coming.”

You went still as he stood in your doorway, your lips only half covered with bright red lipstick. “What?”

San shrugged. “Don't know why. Said he was sick of studying for once. I couldn't believe it either,” he looked you up and down then, and gave you a wink. “Anyway. You look hot. I wanna kiss away that lipstick, baby.”

You smirked, loving that you and San could do anything to each other and it meant nothing. He was the male version of you, that's for sure.

“Come here then.” you chuckled, and not surprisingly, he entered the room like he owned it, pulling you to him sexily. Everyone thought you were dating, but the truth was that you just like to kiss each other. And fuck, but theres absolutely no strings attached.

Reason number a million for why seonghwa hated you.

His lips met yours sloppily, tugging you closer as his lips parted yours. He pulled back, licking the lipstick off his lips.

“So, who’s gonna be the lucky man tonight?” he huskily groaned, leaning back onto your vanity.

You carried on like nothing happened, and fixed up your lipstick. “Not sure. Whoever is down for some fun I guess.”

He nodded. “Of course, of course. Anyway, as much as I like to chit-chat and makeout with you, it's time to head out. I want to get there before the good alc is gone.”

You smirked, finishing your lipstick only for it to be ruined later on.

“Alright, lets go get fucked up.”

—

10:20 pm

You entered the party an hour later, already buzzed on your pre-game chug. San gripped onto you as you entered the house, having no idea who’s it was.

“The party is here, motherfuckers.” San hollered, and everyone who was in the room turned to see you.

You were sober enough to look around, looking for the man you couldn't believe was showing up. You didn't see him anywhere, and you felt a bit let down at the thought of him not showing up.

San’s fingertips were pressed into your side as your friends came up to see you. “Ah, there you guys are. We figured you were fucking as per usual.” Wooyoung cockily spoke, a smile on those pretty drunk lips of his.

Hongjoong snorted, holding a can of beer tightly in his hands. “You're so right.”

You shook your head this time, looking at San, who was staring at you hungrily. “Nah, just a quick makeout sesh. Didn't want to zip this dress back up.”

“Nah, I could've just lifted it up.” San smirked.

You were too busy staring at San to notice the man of the hour coming up behind your friends.

Seonghwa looked pained, his pretty eyes hidden behind his glasses. He held a beer in his hand, looking out of place from his stuffy persona. His long legs were covered with tight black dress pants, and his chest was covered in a matching suit coat and a turtleneck.

You couldn't lie, it pissed you off that he was hot.

“Hwa, there you are,” San giggled, already drunk off an unknown amount of vodka shots. “You're looking fine as hell tonight.”

You moved your gaze to the tall man, his expensive aura rubbing off on you. His eyes were sending daggers at San’s grip on your waist, and then he brought his gaze up to yours. “Thanks.” is all he said, his smooth voice enveloping your senses.

You looked him up and down with an arch of the brow. “Seonghwa.”

He did the same to you, although his piercing eyes were judging your every move. “Y/n.”

You scoffed at the disdain of his tone, knowing that this party was going to be the death of you if you stayed this sober. You looked up to San, who was already looking at you. “San, could you get me a drink?”

He went off like he was your servant, leaving you alone with your friends. That is, until hongjoong gave wooyoung a knowing look. “We're going to get drinks too. Bye-bye.” hongjoong chuckled, knowing he was leaving you with the enemy.

You rolled your eyes, unable to meet your gaze to Seonghwa’s fierce one. It was quiet between you two, desperately needing him to either leave or speak.

To your surprise, he did the latter.

“I see you're enjoying winter break, clearly,” he hummed, bringing the beer can up to his lips. You couldn't help but watch as they got wet, and how he licked them clean while looking at you. “Maybe too much.”

Stupid stupid stupid. He shouldn't be hot. It's not fair.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What do you mean by that?” you inquired, to which he scoffed before responding.

He shrugged. “Well, you're having fun with San and going to parties left and right. Do you ever rest?” he took a step closer to you, but you didn't back down. Even though his voice was so smooth, buttering you up even when he insulted you, you loved to play his game right back.

“Why are you here? Shouldn't you be dissecting a brain or something?” you growled, looking around for San—who wasn't back with your drink yet. “Listen, we all can't be neurosurgeons, baby. Leave the partying and sex and drugs to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, and took another step towards you. “So you are fucking him.”

You furrowed your brows at his harsh and unusual word choices.

Two can play it this way, seonghwa.

“Who? I can name a few people in this room alone,” you reached out, using your flirtatious ways to make him uncomfortable as you always do. You ran a hand down his arm, his gaze hardening on you. “Are you interested? You know I like it rough. I’m sure San tells you all about it—”

“Slut.” he hissed, his eyes black as night as your hand wrapped around his forearm. It's not a word you should take lightly, but hearing him call you that actually did the opposite you expected. You felt warm, your stomach tingling lower and lower and lower.

Your eyes lit up as they met his. “Oh? We’re name calling now, huh?” you pulled him to you, and he stumbled into you. You reached up and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Sucks for you, four eyes, I like being degraded.”

He didn't make a face. He just stared down at you, his lips flat without emotion. His eyes, however, danced with lust from the look you were giving him. After a moment of tearing each other apart, you pushed him away, leaving him standing alone as you went to go find San. Before you left his sight, you turned around and gave him a flirty wave, catching him scoffing one last time before leaving the room.

—

11:30 pm

It was a blur. You were already on your seventh, maybe tenth drink, feeling your body warm from the toxin you call alcohol. You had a habit of dancing when you were drunk, and that left you in the middle of the room, grinding on San and some other random dudes.

In your hand was a red cup of something that tastes like peach whiskey, and it nearly spilled as San’s hands were all over you. The edge of his fingertips danced at the curve of your hip, your arms reaching the sky as his lips were on your neck. Little did you know that more than one set of eyes were on you.

Seonghwa sat on the leather couch, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed. He was drunk off a whole bottle of orange vodka, which scared him a bit. He was unsure of what he would do—or say—to you. You had no idea why he hated you, but oh, some choice words might spill out of his mouth tonight as he watched San touch you like that.

He narrowed his eyes when San’s lips met yours, staring at you with so much anger he might have exploded. He kept watching, unable to break his stare from you. His eyes trailed down to the way San’s hand slid down your hips, and watched as he kissed you and smiled with cockiness.

Seonghwa didn't like how he looked at you.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Hwa stood up and made his way over to you. Within that little time, San was already dancing with another girl, leaving you dancing all alone in the midst of sweaty bodies and men that would take advantage of you.

The minute you spotted him in front of you, you stopped dancing and plastered a goofy smile on your face. “Hello there, smarty pants. Out of your element?” you asked him and began to dance again. He looked at you deeply, noticing the smudge of your lipstick.

“You seem to let anyone touch you.” He said, pushing his glasses up on his face.

You shrugged as you danced, but you were sick of him killing the mood. You reached out to him and pulled him close, and to your surprise, he didn't move away as you danced against him.

“Yeah, even you.” you smirked, grinding your ass against his dick. You were certain he was drunk enough to ignore it. “Touch me.”

He hesitated, but the alcohol took over as his hands moved on their own. He was too drunk to hide his true feelings, but at least you both wouldn't remember this in the morning. His hands slid down to your hips, and never have you ever craved someone’s touch this much.

You reached back to run a hand down his face, feeling the cold rim of his glasses. You felt how sharp his jawline was as his hands touched you like he never did before.

“I’m touching you because you want me to, not because I want to.” he huffed, but his fingers said otherwise as they curled around your dress. His head rested against yours, but then you turned around in his hold, your face inches away from his.

You tilted your face up as you saw the longing look he was giving you. God, you hated him.

“Are you sure about that?” your lips were inches away from his, his hands still gripping at your waist. You held onto his shirt, fisting it tight. You smelled his breath, his shampoo, his everything. Your vision was hazy, but you knew damn well he was the hottest man you've ever laid eyes on. “Your hands seem to like my waist.”

“I don't like anything about you,” he whispered in your ear, lips pressing against your skin. “Not even your sexy little ass. God, I hate your lips, too.”

You shivered under his touch, his hand now squeezing your ass as he breathed into your ear.

“Oh? What’s wrong with my lips?”

He let out a sigh, his breathing getting shallower by the minute.

His dark eyes met yours.

“Because they don't belong to me.”

You stopped dead at his words, feeling like the whole world stopped. He stopped too, but his hands still found their home on your ass and waist.

Your heart began to beat out of your chest. No man has ever made you feel the way he made you feel. You couldn't stand it.

Ignoring his half-confession, you laughed it off. “Your breath smells like oranges.”

He smiled down at you, hair in his eyes. “That's because of the orange vodka. You smell like peaches.”

You licked your lips, really wanting to taste the oranges on his lips; in his mouth. Something was wrong with you.

“I really don't like you.” you said, looking at his lips.

“I hate you even more.”

“Well I hate you a million times more.”

He scoffed, his hands meeting your waist once again. “I hate your dress.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Is it too slutty for you? Is that all you see in me?”

He shook his head. “No,” he hummed. “I just think you're too pretty to be someone’s play-thing.”

You blinked. Was that a compliment?

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I don't do it as often as you think.” you said to him, that seductive smile on your face he knew all too well.

“Well you sleep with San.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but we only fuck because we don't know how to love. We've only done it once.”

He frowned. “What? Really? Only once?”

You nodded, your hand running through his soft hair without knowing. This was the most you've ever spoken civilly. “Yeah. We make out and like other stuff, but I don't like him like that. He doesn't like me like that either. We just do it for fun. Anything to feel something.”

He scoffed, looking as pretty as ever. “God, you're insane.”

“Maybe.”

He smiled. Really smiled. You thought he was so gorgeous, your drunk self didn't know what to do with him.

San came up to you two, a smirk on his lips as he watched you. “Dancing with the enemy, huh?” he chuckled, a girl on one arm and wooyoung on the other. “Have fun, looks like Seonghwa isn't a buzzkill after all.”

San left then, which kind of proved your relationship to Hwa. Sure, you liked to party. You liked having sex. You liked to feel things. It was just your way of having fun. Feeling alive. Even though Seonghwa hated that you were like that, you now just figured out that he thought you deserved better than being someone’s object.

“It's almost midnight.” you whispered, leaning your head against his chest. You felt his heartbeat race under that expensive turtleneck of his.

“Mhm.” he hummed into your hair.

“Who are you going to kiss?” you ran your hands down his back sensually. “Did you even ever kiss someone?”

He laughed, and you felt his chest vibrate. “Do you think I’m a virgin, y/n?”

You giggled, his hands feeling you up. “Maybe. Either that or you're like extremely experienced and you know everything.”

He chuckled at that, but didn't deny it.

“So which is it?” you looked up at him as people began to chant the countdown in the background. “Virgin or sexpertise?”

Ten.

“Do you want to find out?” he asked, his hands living on your hips. “Or do you hate me too much?”

Nine.

“I do hate you quite a bit.” you looked up at his lips.

Eight.

He tilted his head, licking his lips.

Seven.

“Well I don't want you kissing someone else.”

Six.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “So does that mean you don't hate me?”

Five.

He tugged you closer to him, your breasts pressing against his chest. “Oh, I do hate you. I hate everything about you.”

Four.

“Oh, I know you do.” you licked your lips as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You never let me hear otherwise.”

Three.

“Do you…want to hear otherwise?”

Two.

His hand met your jaw, tilting it up to face him. You swallowed hard.

You nodded.

“I never wanted someone so bad the way I want you.” he breathed.

One.

“Kiss me.” you groaned, and this time, he touched you because he wanted to.

“I won't be able to stop.” he hummed against your lips, enveloping you with the sweet taste of oranges and vodka despite the warning.

Happy new year!

He pushed open your lips, tongue in your mouth and hands in your hair. You fisted his hair with one hand, his glasses crashing against your face. He pulled back for a moment only long enough to tear them off his face, only to further the kiss. His hands gripped your face, his tongue licking the roof of your mouth.

He breathed hard as you kissed and kissed and kissed. Your hands were still in his hair, tugging him down to you as he leaned down. You've never kissed someone the way you kissed him at this moment, sharing breaths and sweet-tasting saliva.

Seonghwa scrunched his eyebrows tight as he kissed you, so powerfully, that you didn't know where to put your hands on him anymore.

You forgot that you were in the middle of a room full of people, but one kiss wasn't enough for both of you. You loved the softness of his lips. The taste of them. The smell of his hair. You loved the way he was looking at you, the way he was touching you. You loved everything about him at this moment.

He pulled away, slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't almost break your face from that powerful kiss. It was as if the world was ending—he couldn't let go of you.

And to make matters worse, the pad of his thumb met the corner of your lips, wiping them gently.

“Happy new year, y/n.”

You stared at him, trying to decipher your true feelings. Did you only hate him because he never showed you the time of day? Was it because he was perfect, like a literal god?

—

12:45 am.

The New Year

Somehow, someway, you and seonghwa got separated in all the craziness of the midnight frenzy. You were now in the kitchen, guzzling down your second shot of champagne. You were way too drunk to search for seonghwa, but the minute you saw a flash of black and silver rimmed glasses, you pushed yourself off the counter and followed him.

The cold January breeze hit you, but your body was too warmed up from your intoxication. You stepped down the stairs of the deck, pushing through the swarm of people to see a group lighting off sparklers. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, as everyone here had to be at least tipsy, but you saw him then, smiling, and holding onto a sparkler.

The brightness of the sparks reflected in his eyes, leaving specks of gold and white dance around his lenses. He didn't see you yet, so you stepped closer and closer. He had to see you now, but he didn't look over.

“You know that our reactions to the world around us originate from our brains?” he smiled, waving the sparkler around to make the fire move. “Our movements. Like me moving this right now. Because my brain told my muscles to do it, I moved. Isn't it amazing?”

You stared at him as he turned to you.

“Same way with you,” he sniffed, possibly because of the cold. He looked down at the sparkler in his hands. “My brain reacts to you. More than absolutely anything.”

You reached out and held the sparkler with him, knowing there was no way you were going to remember this in the morning. “So, what makes my body react to you, then?”

He let out a sigh, putting his thinking face on even while he was obliterated. “That depends on what way you react. There are many different chemicals.”

You tilted your head. “Chemicals?”

He nodded, looking down at how your hands were touching each other. His free hand gripped your chin, tilting it up to meet his lustful gaze.

“If you're thinking about kissing me,” he paused, the reflection of the star of the sparkler in his lenses. “Or touching me. Or fucking me, your levels of dopamine and norepinephrine are high.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as his fingertips brushed against your lips.

“High?”

“Mhm. Your brain is currently sending signals through your neurotransmitters. If you're attracted to me right now,” the sparks of the sparkler died out right then. “Your body will react because of the chemical reactions.”

“So,” you breathed, looking up at him innocently. “How is your body reacting to me? What’s your brain telling you?”

Seonghwa paused, taking a quick look at your lips before biting them slightly. He tossed the dead sparkler away. “Well my brain isn't fully functional right now, so I’m not sure how reliable my words are.”

You scoffed, slapping him on the arm. “I thought we were having a moment.”

“We are.”

You laughed. “Seonghwa, I feel like you have no common sense.”

He blinked. “Well, not right now. Like I said when you drink your brain doesn't work as well—”

You groaned, interrupting him with a hand to his mouth. This made his eyes go wide, and you felt his hot breath hit your palm.

“I literally hate you so much,” you kept your hand to his mouth to keep him from speaking. “I’d rather have you call me a slut like earlier. Although you look cute talking all nerdy.”

He blinked at you, confused at what you really felt about him. He was so far gone that he was starting to spill brain facts—a usual scenario that happens when he gets drunk. It's not what he wants to get across now, even though he was confused about his own thoughts.

He reached up to grab your hand, and wiped his face after. Now his lips were free—you kept thinking back to your kiss you shared earlier.

“I won't be able to stop.” you said.

He tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

You sighed, grabbing his cheeks in your hands, making him let out a little noise of surprise. You could tell he barely had any idea where he was. His eyes were dilated, dark, and somehow so lovely you couldn't imagine looking into anyone else's.

“You said you wouldn't be able to stop. When you were kissing me.” you hummed, feeling the warmth of his body that was inches away from yours. “But you did.”

He stared at you deeply, and you were able to see your reflection in his round eyes. “Yes.”

You rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone. “And you said before that if you wanted to kiss someone, that was because of a chemical reaction?”

He nodded slowly, looking at your lips in a haze. “Also yes.”

“Are you….having any reaction…to me?” you slid your hand back, running it up his neck, watching him shut his eyes tight in response. “To my touch? Do you want to kiss my lips again? Or fuck me?”

“God, y/n.” he hissed quietly, his eyes opening slowly to meet your intense gaze. His hands were back on your hips, seeming like a happy place for him. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

You smirked, leaning in to kiss the sharpness of his jaw, hearing him breathe in sharply. “We can go back to being hateful in the morning. I want you inside me more than I want to be hated, tonight,” you kissed the lobe of his ear, nibbling on it slightly as his hands tightened at your waist. “So your answer? Is there a chemical reaction going off in your body right now?”

He laughed deeply, sending chills down your spine. His arms wrapped around your body, his palm at the small of your back, pulling you into him. “If there wasn't, then I would have something wrong with me.”

You sensually giggled, gripping the back of his neck so he would look you in the eyes. “Then I’m all yours for the night.”

“I can…I can do anything to you?” he murmured into your ear, both of you unaware of the people around you.

His forehead pressed against yours.

“Anything.”

—

1:20 am.

The New Year

He slammed you against the door of god knows who’s bedroom, his lips on yours the minute he caught his breath. His hand searched for the door knob, and after aggressively running his hand up and down the door, he found it, and you both tumbled into the bedroom.

He moaned as you bit his lip with full force, feeling euphoric from the sounds he made. He pushed you back into the door, slamming it shut with your body. Lifting you up quickly, he held you to the door, feeling his hard-on through his pants.

“You said you liked it rough,” he whispered onto your lips like it was a confession, kissing them in between words. “I’ll make it so rough you won't think about San ever again.”

You cried out as he stuck his tongue into your mouth, now knowing that this booksmart boy was most certainly not a virgin. “I knew it.” you breathed, smirking while his teeth bit into your neck. You grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling it so hard that he set you down. You watched his face contort in pain and pleasure as you backed him up to the edge of the bed.

“What?” he groaned, looking up at you from his seated position. His eyes pleaded for your touch, and you did, gripping onto his shoulder as you stepped between his legs.

“I knew you weren't a virgin, you asshole.” you gave him a sinister smile, and with the deadliest look, you ripped the hair tie off your wrist to tie your hair up.

You watched him swallow hard, his black hair covering his eyes and sticking to him from his sweat. His legs were spread wide, his dick begging to tear through his expensive pants. He breathed heavily as he watched you kneel, causing him to moan without you having to touch him.

“I…” he huffed as your hands met the waistband of his pants. “Ugh.” he couldn't finish what he had to say when you unbuttoned them, pulling down the zipper to reveal black underwear. You tugged at his pants, pulling them down along with the underwear. There he was, ready for you. You were going to make him feel so good that he would never forget this, despite your shared “hatred.”

He tossed his head back the minute he felt your breath against his tip, veins popping through the skin of his forehead as he bit his lip. You licked his cock, dragging your tongue down from the tip to the base. You looked up at him while you did it, meeting his breathless expression.

“I…I…Fuck.” he cried out, his hand fisting your ponytail with force.

You moaned as you sucked his dick, your throat contracting from his size. You gagged slightly as he shoved you deeper, your hands behind your back like the master you were. You used your tongue as you moved up and down, going faster as you heard him moan louder and louder.

“I’m gonna fucking come if you don't stop,” he hissed after god knows how long you spent sucking him off, and he pulled you up off your knees.

You nearly blushed at his lost expression, his lips bright red from your lipstick and his cheeks flushed. His eyes were slanted with lust, dazed and lost within your touch. He was leaning back on his arms, which were still covered by the turtleneck you couldn't wait to take off of him.

You licked your lips as you looked down on him, and your fingertips met the hem of his shirt. You tugged it slowly, watching his eyes widen slightly as you pulled it over his head. The smooth ripple of muscle danced down his stomach like he was some sort of art piece.

You then stood back to admire for a moment, which was too long for seonghwa to wait. He stood up from the bed, his arms coming around to hold the back of your head. He was completely naked now, all that was left was the slutty glasses that dawned his face. You didn't want to take them off just yet.

He looked at you for a second before pressing his red lips to yours, his hand gripping the back of your head to hold you to him. His other hand twirled around the end of your little dress, unable to take a second to pull the zipper down. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue collided into yours, your hands finding their home in his hair. The coldness of his glasses burned into your skin, sending more shivers down your spine as he kissed you like no one ever has.

“I’ll tear this thing apart,” he growled into your mouth, impatient as ever. Before you could tell him there was a zipper, he ripped the fabric right off your body, tossing it across the room like it was nothing. You didn't even care if it was your favorite dress. The only thing that mattered right now was having him inside you.

You shivered as his hands slid down the waistband of your lace underwear.

“I bet you didn't think I would be the one taking these off of you,” he licked your lips, his cold fingertips meeting your other lips. He pushed his middle finger between them, his eyes dancing with desire as he watched your eyes shut tight. “Lace? So slutty.”

“Your glasses are sluttier.” You held in a whimper.

He smirked, and took his hand away slowly. Before you could complain, he sucked on the fingers that were just near your entrance, and then slid his hand up your matching bra, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the sensitive skin of your nipple. Without warning, he pulled it over your head, and you rested your head in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your breasts. You kissed his collarbone as his arms snaked around your waist, pushing you backwards until you both fell onto the bed.

He caged you from above, his dick pressing up against your center. You felt the dribble of precum hit your skin, unable to shake the feeling that he was probably the best you ever had—even without entering you. His one arm reached down to pull your underwear off, so quickly you barely knew he did it.

You arched your back into him, begging him with your eyes for him to enter you, but he just looked down at you with a smirk. He ran a hand down your face, almost lovingly, but you knew better.

The minute his dick lined up to enter, and with a sharp inhale, he pushed himself deep inside you, causing you to let out a cry.

You rocked your hips against his as he held himself over you, his eyes locked on yours drunkenly. You couldn't remember when–or if—he ever looked straight into your eyes before tonight. It was fitting that he would only look at you when he fucked you.

His hips clashed into yours, his arms looping around your legs to shove himself further, if possible. You moaned so loud you swore everyone could hear you, but what made you even more turned on was that he was just as loud.

“Say my name.” he said, his glasses still on, making you even more feral. “I want to hear you scream it.”

You looked into his galaxy-like eyes, watching them sparkle with emotion.

You'll never recover from this.

“Seonghwa.” you whined, completely vulnerable under his body.

“Oh my god,” he purred, his eyes darkening. “Say it again.”

You moaned, causing him to move faster. “Hwa…”

You gripped his ass as he moved powerfully, his fingernails piercing your skin while his lips made love to your neck. You could hardly breathe between his god-like movements and the way his touch felt like fire, but when his lips met yours once again, you slid your hands up to hold the hair out of his face.

You smirked.

“Let me ride you.” you said, your voice hoarse from all your moans. He didn't stop moving as you asked, but you saw that gorgeous smirk immediately.

You traded positions, feeling empty as he pulled out of you. The minute you saw him under you, his hair sticking to his face and his eyes full of wonder, you let out a sigh, feeling his pulse from under you. You caressed his stomach with your fingertips, watching those bright eyes shut tight. Bringing your fingers down, you slid them down the V of his muscle, smiling to yourself as he bucked his hips forward.

You leaned down, your lips meeting his stomach and you moved them further and further up, kissing his chest, his collarbone, his neck. You got to his chin, then his nose, until you softly gripped his glasses. Once they were off, you set them down onto the nightstand, letting out a chuckle as you looked at him.

He blinked up at you, never seeing him with such emotion.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, feeling his hot breath coat them while his hands caressed your back.

You furrowed your eyebrows, sliding your finger down his neck to grip his throat. “You make me so mad.” you breathed, a devilish, almost insane look on your face.

You tightened your grip.

He looked at you, sexy as ever. “Why?”

“Because,” you lined yourself up, hearing him grunt as you pushed yourself onto him.

“When you call me beautiful, I actually believe you.”

You didn't give him a chance to answer you as you bounced up and down, smirking as you watched him squirm under your hold. You released your grip on his neck, pushing yourself up to ride him better. His hands were on your hips, his mouth agape and his eyes shut tight.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, leaning up from his sprawled position to wrap his arms around your body, holding him to you as you bounced up and down. Up and down, his lips on your lips. His hands in your hair. His tongue in your mouth. You never wanted this to end.

Who knows how long you've been going. He threw you around, pushing you up against the headboard and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He moaned in your ear, biting the lobe and then kissing it. “I still hate you,” he hissed, his sweat rubbing off onto you as he pressed his head into yours. “I hate how good your pussy feels.”

You tried catching your breath, holding onto him as he crashed. You already came twice, and you felt the third high coming after those words.

“You…” he huffed as you sucked on his thumb, unable to control himself. “You're such a whore.”

You smiled, your legs losing their feeling by how hard he was pumping into you. “Mhm.”

He groaned, tossing his head back. “It's so hot. You're so hot.” his breaths began to quicken, along with his movements. You most definitely will have bruises on your thighs from his grip and marks from the headboard on your back in the morning. “My little slut.”

“Ah,” you cried out, feeling yourself tighten around his pulsing cock. He pushed you up against the headboard even harder, and you felt the sharpness of his fingernails as he bucked his hips a few more times.

He came into you, without warning, and you felt the warmness fill you up completely. His breath was just as hot, hitting your sweaty face rhythmically. You let out a comfortable sigh as he moved your legs off his shoulders.

As you laid out, your back against the wooden headboard and him between your legs, he looked at you, gently, romantically, as if he didn't just fuck you for hours. He reached out, brushing your soaked hair behind your ear with a slight boyish smile.

He looked down at you in awe, unsure of what to do now. He was now a completely different person than he was a few minutes ago. His hands felt the inside of your thighs, his eyes wide. “Do you…do I..” he scratched his head. “Should I…help you? Like, wash up?” he met eyes with you, still drunk, but not nearly as much as he was a few hours ago.

You paused. You never had someone offer you that. Or any after care, in general. It's always been a hello, goodbye.

He looked like he wanted to take care of you.

You blinked, trying to hide your appreciation. “You…don't have to,” you said, barely audible. He was the smartest man you knew, there was no way he didn't know what that meant.

He looked at you one more time before getting off the bed. You watched as he searched the room, admiring his physique. He found a box of tissues, and he gave you a look. “It's not the best thing, but—”

“It's okay, seonghwa.” you smiled, your hatred for him completely gone. Poof! Nothing was there other than infatuation and some other feeling you couldn't put your finger on. He came over to you then, and gently wiped the inside of your thighs, cleaning you up slowly. You blinked slowly as the tiredness took over you, but you didn't fall asleep just yet.

He looked you up and down from his standing position, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight that peeked through the windows.

He laid on the bed next to you, pulling up the covers and tossing them over both of you. Without thinking, you cuddled up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head in his neck.

“You should believe it.” he said softly, rubbing circles into your arm.

“Hm?” you mumbled, drifting into sleep.

He smiled and kissed your forehead.

“That you are beautiful.”

—

11:30 am

New Year’s Day.

Back to the current time, Seonghwa sat up against the headboard, looking as shocked as ever, not even pulling up the covers to hide his bare chest.

“y/n?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Where are your clothes?”

You stood like a deer in headlights, scared enough to not even bother to hide yourself. He saw it all, anyway. You remembered everything as soon as your fingers touched your dress.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, holding up the destroyed dress in your hands. “You tore it off my body…”

He squinted his eyes, unable to see without those glasses of his. He reached over onto the nightstand, and quickly tossed on those sexy ass round-rimmed glasses. The same glasses he had on when he fucked you so hard you saw stars.

“What the hell happened last night?” He asked, fixing his glasses to rest right on that pretty nose of his.

Your heart slowed. “You… don't remember?” you asked him, looking down at your aching body. He stared at you, lost, dazed, looking even more fuckable than he was when you were drunk.

This is bad.

He sighed, looking over the bruises on your thighs. “No, I do. I do,” he paused, scratching his head. “I’m sorry about the bruises. And…your dress.”

You wanted to escape. This was the first time you wanted to stay in someone's arms. The first time you wanted to sleep with someone more than once. It was unlike you.

You frantically searched for his shirt on the floor. You grabbed it and tossed it on, and thank god it fit like a dress. Your mind wandered to how he touched you, how he kissed you, how he cleaned you up.

You slid on your underwear, forgetting about the bra and quickly looked for your shoes. He watched you from the bed, a frown on his face.

“You and your stupid chemical talk,” you mumbled, fixing your hair in the mirror. You looked over at him one last time, feeling your chest tingle from the look he was giving you. “I uh…it was nice. Thanks.” was all you came up with before leaving the room, and leaving him all alone with no shirt and your lace bra.

How were you supposed to fix this?

—

January 30th

End of Winter Break

You sat with your head in your textbook, alone in the library at your college campus. It's been thirty days since your unforgettable night with seonghwa, and here you were, still thinking about it every chance you got.

However, he was back to hating you again. He wouldn't even look at you, or speak to you. It felt like nothing happened, and in all reality, it was all your fault.

San came up to you then, a frown on his face as you made no reaction to his presence. Seonghwa was right—you couldn't even think of san the same way. Not after that night with hwa.

“y/n,” San sat across from you at the library table, his expression solemn. “You haven't been yourself. Since when do you study?”

You blinked down at your textbook, reading about the anatomical drawings of Leonardo Divinci. It reminded you of seonghwa—not because of the way it looks, but knowing that the chemical reactions of the body lie under the exterior.

“Did you know that we have a whole bunch of neurotransmitters?” you furrowed your brow, your finger dancing along the drawing’s body. “They react to touch. Like this.” you said, circling the figure. San didn't speak, and he knew what happened between you and Seonghwa.

“Hey,” he reached out to shut your textbook, shutting your thoughts up. “What's going on?”

You shrugged, wrapping yourself up tightly in your fluffy coat. “I don't know. I don't know why I’m feeling this way or what it means.”

“It's Seonghwa,” he said kindly, picking at the edge of the textbook. “He’s been the same way, too.”

You sighed. “He won't even look at me, but who can blame him? After all he tore off my dress and called me a slut and bruised my thighs so bad I still have—”

“Alright, alright,” San hissed, making a disgusted face. “I don't need the details. But I can tell you what he said about you…”

Your eyes lit up, meeting his own irises with wonder. “What did he say?”

San bit his lip, and squirmed in the chair he was sitting in. “He said…he said he didn't want you to leave. When he was drunk the other day, he wouldn't stop talking about you.”

“San I,” you sighed, picking at your fingers in your lap. “I had to. That's all I know.”

He shook his head. “It doesn't have to be. Not with him, at least.”

You stared at him for a moment, unable to grasp the emotions you were feeling. “I don't want a relationship.”

He nodded. “He knows that.”

You bit your lip. “I don't know how to love someone.”

“He knows that, too.”

“Then what do I do?” you laughed, a usual occurrence when you were confused. “I want to be with him, but I don't know why.”

He smiled at you, his eyes kind rather than their usual flirtiness. “It doesn't hurt to try, y/n.”

Something blew up in your mind—some sort of chemical reaction you weren't used to. You knew of the feeling of attraction, lust, everything in between. But you didn't know what this one was.

You stood up abruptly. “I gotta go.” the chair nearly tumbled back as you zoomed out of the library, forgetting your backpack and your textbook like they were the least of your worries.

You ran through the cold, having no idea where your destination was. You knew who he was, but not where to find him. You checked his apartment, called hongjoong, and checked the science lecture halls. With him nowhere to be found, you thought your heart was going to give out—that is, until one more place came to mind.

You raced to the campus bus stop, pacing until the bus finally arrived. Your leg bounced up and down rapidly until you reached your stop. You moved so fast you were certain people thought you were insane, and when you finally pushed through the doors of the hospital, you trudged up the stairs to the neuro floor, right up to the main desk.

You took a deep breath to slow your breathing. “Is Seonghwa here?” you asked in a hurry, your heart beating so fast you thought you were dying.

The lady frowned, giving you the weirdest look. “Who? Is he a patient?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No, no. he’s a med student. He should be doing an internship here or something? He’s in neuroscience. Neurosurgery? One of the two, I don't—”

“y/n?”

You heard his smooth voice from the right, and you slowly turned toward him in relief. “Ah, thank god. I need to see you, I think I’m dying.” you inhaled sharply, watching his neutral expression change to worry.

He hesitated to get closer to you, his lips opening and closing as his mind wondered about what to say. He decided against words and walked over to you, gripping onto your arm before dragging you away and into the on-call room he came out of.

He let go of you, and you stood in the middle of the room with your hands at your sides. He locked the door behind him, and then turned to you with a scowl. “Why are you here?”

You gasped for air. “Listen, I have to be dying. My heart is beating so fast.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s probably because you ran here.”

You shook your head, and he kept his distance to you. “No, it's not just that,” you took a step closer to him. He didn't move back. “I can't stop thinking about you. And when I think about you, my heart races and I feel like I need to see you. Some kind of chemical reaction is going on and it's not the one you told me about when we were drunk.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. You stepped closer to him. “It’s probably just your body being confused. It has nothing to do with me—”

“But it has everything to do with you!” you groaned, sweating through the furry coat you had on. You ran a hand through your hair aggressively. “Because you're the one who I see even when I’m staring at anatomy paintings I can't stand it anymore.”

He let his guard down, setting down his arms at his sides. You took a step closer to him, calming down in his presence.

He looked at you through those glasses of his. “What are your symptoms?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “I uh, I cant stop thinking about you. About that night. I also cant breathe sometimes, and my heart beats super fast whenever I think about you, or if you're with someone else,” you took a breath as he watched you intently. “I don't know if its because you hate me and I cant shake it, or that I still want to sleep with you, or the fact that I want more than that but I’m no good for you but I want to be—”

“Oxytocin.” he smiled, his eyes sparkling.

You stopped, realizing you were so close to him that your shoes were almost bumping together. “What?”

“Your chemical reaction,” he said, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face. The minute his skin met yours, you felt your heart beat even faster. “It’s especially prominent with…skin to skin contact.” the pads of his fingers caressed your cheek.

You felt calm as he touched you. Like you needed it. Only him.

“What does that mean?” you asked him, a whisper.

He smiled, grabbing your face in his hands. “It means attachment. You're attached to me.”

You met eyes with him, looking at how they searched your face for any answer.

“...Yes. you're right,” you bit your lip as he looked down at you with amusement. “All I know is that I feel so much better now that you're in front of me.”

He smiled. “Good. because I do too,” he looked at your lips, ready to lean down and kiss them. “But just so you know, I plan on ripping your clothes off again. Right here, right now, so you better tell me it won't be the last time. I don't want to hear you say bye to me ever again.”

You nodded in his grip, your face inching towards his. “Mhm. Yeah. I’ll always say hello to you. No bye’s.”

He pressed his forehead into yours. “None.”

His lips met yours like it was the first time, and you smiled into the kiss like a schoolgirl. You wrapped your arm around his shoulders, kissing him and kissing him like you were made for him.

He made love to you on the couch of the on-call room, making new marks on your thighs and your neck. You never wanted it to end, and this time, it didn't have to.

“I’ll be the only one who gets to rip your dresses, alright?” he growled in your ear, professing his attraction and attachment to you through actions.

“Okay, four eyes.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa #enemies to lovers #one night stand #new year au #parties #ateez fic #ateez san #college au

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keis-slut · 1 year

Text

Sex In The Pizzaplex

fnaf

chapter ii. - Sun and Moon ⚠︎

CW: DIRTY TALK, SLIGHT DEGRADATION, JOI, OVERSTIMULATION, SEX TOYS, FINGERING

Reader POV

"now, you remember what I said about the daycare attendant?"

Vanessa asks, leading me into the Daycare center.

I was hired as an "after-hours attendant", which is honestly just the nicer version of saying i'm a janitor, but they started me off in the Daycare. Just as Vanessa guessed.

She was currently leading me to the Daycare, and was instructed to be my trainer. But mentioned she would just simply show me where things go and what to use when cleaning instead of being on my back with every move. She trusted i'd be just fine after a thing or two, so there is really no need for "training".

"I do remember, yeah, yeah" I say, rolling my eyes playfully.

She leads me over to these giant wood doors, and stops there.

"this is as far as i'm going, the attendant is your issue now" She says, crossing her arms.

I roll my eyes at her.

"thanks, I appreciate it" I say sarcastically, turning to her.

"is he really that bad?" I ask her, as she turns around and walks to the table behind us.

"yeah, he's odd. id rather not deal with him, it's annoying" She admits, grabbing a bin full of items.

"if you say so. wish me luck then" I say, fixing the strap of my bag on my shoulder and taking the bin from her as she motioned for me to have it.

"in here are all the cleaning supplies. I told you what needs to be cleaned and what to just leave. you'll be okay?" She asks, and I nod.

"okay, good. I'll be patrolling the Atrium and main entrance tonight, so i'm in the building. you know how to reach me if you need" She says, walking off with a smile and a wave.

I smile as I watch her walk off, sighing and turning to the tall doors.

I push them open with my foot and look around, everything so colorful.

To my left was a desk, so I headed over there to place down the bin, along with my bag.

Now, id like to mention, my "jokes" about getting freaky with these animatronics...not really jokes.

Yeah, no, I had something...a few things, in my bag. Just in case of anything. To come prepared.

I mean, it's not like I take those things out of my bag anyway.

But, whether this was robophilia, agalmatophilia, whatever you wanna call it, being attracted to fucking robots...

Working here was my opportunity to figure it out.

I stand up, and go to fix my work shirt, only to then feel something suddenly grab my hand.

I'm forcefully turned, now face to face with someone new as they grab my shoulders.

"hello! are you new?! what's your name?! my name is Sun, can you be my friend? oh, you're pretty!..."

I gasp, finally coming to my senses and getting a good look at this person.

animatronic.

The Daycare attendant.

He had a freakish looking smile, and his head was shaped like a sun. He was wearing an outfit almost similar to a jester, his red and yellow striped pants puffed out at the bottoms. Along his slender arms, he had bells dangling from his wrists, jingling as he held onto me. As odd as his design was, I did like it. But I understood immediately what Vanessa said by annoying.

He wasn't as cute as the other animatronics though, so maybe he could just help me with my chores and i'd be on my way. Probably won't be testing anything tonight.

Although, his mannerisms and slightly flirty compliments might've been...attractive.

"t-thank you...i'm y/n" I introduce, face slightly warm, and he removes his hands from my shoulders.

"oh! what a lovely name!" He compliments, clapping his hands together. I smile at him and walk over to the bin of supplies.

"oh, thank you" I thank him, grabbing a dry rag and an all-purpose cleaner from the bin Vanessa had given me.

"what brings you here after hours, friend?" He asks, skipping next to me, swaying his hips.

I stand up straight and show him my supplies.

"I work here. I just started" I say with a smile, going to walk around him to start cleaning, but he stands in front of me.

"oh, can I help! what do you have to do? let me!" He offers, laying his cold hand on mine, touching the rag I was holding. The physical touch sends a pulse through my body.

I smile, and pull away gently.

"I'll clean behind the desk first, actually, then maybe you can help with the play area. it's a mess" I say, shuffling over to the desk chairs.

"you think so? I try my best to clean up after the kids" He says, walking to the other side of the desk, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on his hands.

"that's good, it leaves a little less work for me" I say with a chuckle, using the spray bottle for the cleaner along the desktop, wiping it down.

"speaking of kids..." He speaks, voice getting only a little lower in tone. But enough for me to halt my cleaning, and look up at him as he leans closer over the counter.

"how old are you? you're not a kid are you? I don't usually see many adults" He comments, and I stand up straight. He climbs on top of the desk, squating as he observed me, up and down. Even if he didn't have pupils to know where he was looking, I could still feel his stare somehow. Like there were a pair behind all of it.

"no, i'm not a kid" I admit to him carefully, as he continues to approach me. He hops over the desk, now on the same side as me. I back up, feeling my heel bump into something. My foot had knocked over my bag, but I was able to catch myself with my other foot before falling. Even so, my bag had toppled over, almost everything inside spilling out. Even it.

He notices this as well, and his head tilts in curiosity.

"what is this thing?" He asks, and my face pulses warmly. But I didn't say anything.

I just watched as he picked it up between his slender fingers, coming back over to me and holding it up.

"is this a toy? i've never seen one before, how do you use it?! it has lots of glitter!" He asks curiously, getting closer to me abruptly as my glittery toy was pushed in my face. Startling me slightly, I step back again into the wall, hearing something click behind me. I must've hit a switch, as the power in the area suddenly goes out.

"oh, damn it-"

"-no! no, no! the lights! they have to stay on! not now!" He startled me as he grunts, hunching forward and groaning in pain.

I watch, confused, even a little worried. I step forward for him to only step back further, bumping into the desk and dropping my toy.

"no, please! fix the lights, hurry!" He pleads, groaning again before toppling over behind one of the desk chairs.

I gasp, wanting to check on him, but frozen in my tracks as I was also still slightly frightened.

"Sun? are you...okay?" I ask, moving just a bit to try and carefully get a view.

But all I heard was silence, and then low growling.

My heart slammed against my chest as I heard this, starting to back up again.

This wasn't Sun anymore.

I watch the chair as it moves to the side, revealing a similar animatronic, but darker, his robotic wires and metal parts clicking as he eyed me from behind the chair.

I could only slightly make out how he looked, his pants now a blue color, scattered with yellow stars.

Definitely hotter.

I watched as he stood up from behind the chair, tilting his head to look at me as he slowed his stride approaching me.

Those red eyes...

As he got closer, I only now had noticed how tall he actually was, as he had to lean down to get in my face.

"you'll be a good girl for me, now, won't you?" He purrs, feeling my face grow hot.

Oh my god.

Everything inside me was internally screaming.

All of the above when it came to kinks was currently screaming.

My legs had almost turned to jelly as his slender fingers touched my neck.

"won't you?" He repeats darkly, and my breath hitches.

"y-yes" I respond quickly, my face burning.

He brought his hand down to my chest, pulling at the buttons on my work shirt. Removing one, then two, then another, enough to reveal my bra.

I swear if he had a tongue, he'd be licking his lips.

He let out a low growl as he moves back slightly, and stops, pointing at the desk chair.

"sit"

He demands, and stepping over to the chair slowly, I could now feel the warmth between my legs.

As I sit down, he bends to pick up my toy again, walking closer to me. He leans down, resting his hand on one of the chair arms to hover over me, his other holding it.

"I don't know how this toy works. why don't you show me?" He purrs, handing it to me.

I hesitate, then grab it shyly, hooking my finger around the band of my dress pants.

"now, now, I know all of us are mostly around children all the time..." He growls, leaning down again with his hands on either side of the chair, looming over me, watching me strip with his red eyes.

"but when we aren't..."

I slip my pants off one leg, and he brings a cold hand to my thigh, forcefully spreading my legs.

"well, we're just like you..."

I gasp as they twitch, and he brings his other hand to trace against my damp panties.

"so wet already...naughty, naughty girl" He hums, pushing harder against the fabric as my legs go to snap closed, fighting against his hand still holding them open.

He pulls his hand away, and stares at me.

"do it" He says, his raspy, growling voice leaking with desire.

I slide my hand down my hip, hooking my thumb around my panties and pulling it off one leg, exposing myself.

He leans against the desk, carefully watching me.

"put it in, slowly" He demands, and I whine, shamelessly feeling myself drip right before his eyes.

I bring the tip to my entrance, moving it up and down to lubricate slightly.

My mouth forms an "O" shape as I moan lightly. The tip enters gently, and my eyelids bat as I make eye contact with him.

"hm, what's the word?...whore?" He growls, questioning himself out loud, knowingly teasing me.

As he says that, I buck my hips, the toy pushing in fully.

I moan as I carefully pull it out, thrusting it in again just the way I liked.

"no, no, did I say to start?" He snarled, inching closer to me.

I stop and buck my hips, trying to tell him I needed to keep going.

"such a needy girl" He said, placing his cold robotic hand on my knee.

"go slow"

I pump my toy in and out, as slow as I could manage, my back arching against the chair.

"please..." I beg, sighing as I felt myself desirably clench around the toy.

"oh, so you want to beg now?" He teased, tilting his head as it clicked mechanically.

"such a desperate whore, now, aren't you?" He growled, bringing his hand down to mine and helping me push the toy in deeply.

My hips jerk forwards, and I whine for him to move.

"you wanted to beg, didn't you?" He teased, pushing harder as the toy brushed against my limit.

"beg"

I squirm under him as my walls closed tightly around the silicone.

"please, I want to keep going..." I whisper, sighing out a moan as my eyelids dropped.

"I want to cum, please, please let me" I continue to beg as he laughs desirably.

"filthy girl..."

He retracts his hand, placing it on my thigh instead.

"faster, now"

I moan loudly, pushing the toy in and out of me at a faster rate, my other hand grabbing at the chair behind me as my hips rolled.

"i'm close, please" I plead, and he growls.

"let me"

He grabs a hold of my hand, forcefully placing his other hand just above my head to tower over me.

The size of him just had my pussy throbbing against the toy as he encased me in the chair.

His mechanical hand paced at an unbelievable speed, my arm beginning to grow tired.

My chest heaved as he pulled it in and out so fast I could barely keep up, my moans turning into breathless whimpers.

"let me cum, please" I cry, my eyebrows knitting, pussy tightening around the toy.

"naughty girls must be punished" He barked, bringing his other hand to attack my clit, overstimulating me as I squirmed out a messy orgasm.

He pulled out the toy abruptly, my squirting finish dripping on the chair, his hand still circling my clit forcefully.

I sob as he watched me come undone, writhing uncomfortably in the seat. Growing severely sensitive, he still didn't seem to stop. No, instead he brought his other hand to my entrance after tossing the toy to the side. He easily has slipped two fingers inside me, curling them instantly as my hips bucked.

"fuck!-" I cry, and he tuts me.

"uh, uh, no naughty language in the Daycare..." He spits, hooking his fingers against my g-spot, his other hand still overstimulating my clit.

"i'm sorry, oh, god, but please-!" I beg, whining as he laughed, knowing he felt me clench around his robotic fingers.

"seeing you come undone is a dream" He admit.

Suddenly, even during all of this, the power comes back on loudly. It had startled me, and before me he had started to twitch, his hat falling behind his head, and Suns rays came through. His eyes glossed over back to white, and his outfit had faded back to its red and yellow. Once turning back, he noticed me and retracted his hand from between my legs, my mess all over his shiny fingers.

"oh, friend! i'm so sorry! did Moon hurt you?!" He cried, stepping back as he was flustered.

I throw my head back on the chair and sigh heavily out of relief, my legs twitching ever so slightly as I tried to rest them.

"oh, Sun, you're back..."

I now had to clean up more than I expected tonight.

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cher-rei · 4 months

Text

feels like forever [ T.A.A ]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x femreader

summary: you had been away on a trip for a few weeks but decided to come home earlier to surprise your boyfriend

[wc: 1,8k] masterlist

genre(s): established relationship, straight-up fluff

three weeks. that's how long it's been since you had seen your boyfriend. when you first told him about the trip more than two months ago, it wasn't that big of a deal. If anything trent was urging you to go, saying that you deserved the time off and that he'd be fine by himself. you were reluctant at first, considering that you'd be gone for an entire month and that seemed a bit too much but be wouldn't budge.

"I'll come home a bit earlier I promise. there's seriously no reason for me to be gone for more than two weeks," you said, leaning back on the kitchen counter as you watched trent rummage through the fridge.

"just stay the full month baby, I'll be fine." he halted his rummage fest and turned to look at you with his eyebrow quirked and a smile. "or do you think I'm incapable of being left alone?"

there was a moment of silence that passed to which he let out an amused scoff. "you're joking right?" he took a few steps closer, causing you to tighten your grip on the counter with a suppressed smile but avoiding his gaze at all costs.

you didn't think he was incapable of being left alone. he was a grown man and knew how to handle himself, but there were times when you wondered what was going on inside his head.

he was standing in front of you now, his hand snaking around your waist ever so slowly while the other tilted your chin up to look at him. of course, he was smiling, he knew the effect he had on you all too well and made sure to use it to his advantage when needed. "go on the trip, okay?"

"but I'll come bac--"

you were cut off with a quick peck on the lips, and then another on your cheek, and another on your forehead, and another on your nose. by now you were a giggling mess, trying your best to find the strength to put some distance in between the two of you but trent wasn't having it until you finally gave in with a reluctant sigh.

"yes I win!"

oh, he won alright because even at the airport when he sent you off he practically had to drag you out of the car and to the boarding gate. you met up with your friends the second you got there but never left your boyfriend's side until it was time to go.

"remember to separate the laundry- red and white should not be together at all baby. we don't want a repeat of last time," you instructed hastily and trent nodded his head obediently as if he hadn't heard the same lecture over and over on the drive here.

"you know what just take it to the dry cleaner, it's less of a hassle."

"okay now--"

you cut him off once again, "and make sure that you lock the doors properly, and call jude if you need anything."

yep. he was undoubtedly going to miss this.

"what am I saying?" you groaned in complaint and put your palm to your forehead. "do not call jude. he should be the last person you call if you need something important."

trent couldn't help but laugh as he watched you endearingly, and truth be told he could watch you watch paint dry and never get bored. he knew how worried you were to leave him alone, it was the longest you two were going to be apart since you started dating three years ago.

so he never minded your little episodes like this whenever either of you had to leave because it was out of love and your genuine fear of him burning the house down. and it took a bit and the death stares from your group of friends to get you out of his embrace.

"good luck with your matches okay? I'll be watching so don't mess up!" you yelled out to your boyfriend who was a blushing mess when everyone decided to turn their attention on him.

he was just about ready to leave when he saw you enter the gateway, the smile still on his face but the second he turned his back he felt a pair of arms grip around his waist.

"I love you."

"you've been staring at the same picture for the past five minutes."

trent jolted at the sound of virgil's voice coming up from behind him. he didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was in fact staring at the same picture you had sent him yesterday. there was no denying that he was going insane.

sure you called whenever you had the chance and made sure to update each other throughout the day, but obviously it wasn't the same. the first week had been a breeze for trent, but a little harder for you since it took a bit of time to settle in without his presence but it happened gradually as you got too caught up in your trip.

two week. that's how long trent lasted, and he still had two more to go before you got back. it felt strange to come home after practice in the evening and not see you lying on the couch with your arms open for a hug, or to see you in the stands during practice with a loving smile on your face.

"everyone in the tunnel. let's go."

with the announcement and a pat on the shoulder from virgil, he let out one last heavy sigh and shook away any disruptive thoughts to move his focus to the match. they were playing fulham for the premier league cup today, right at Anfield which meant that he was counting on this match as a distraction.

you, on the other hand, couldn't wait for the match to be over. the stadium was booming with noise from the fans the second you entered and quietly made your way to the friends and family booth without any of the team members noticing.

"are you serious? what are you doing here?" virgil's wife, rike gasped when you slid in next to her. she hurriedly pulled you into a hug and laughed in disbelief.

"i got a little homesick," you answered breathily and rike couldn't help but give a knowing hum.

she took your hand into hers with a smile and faced the front, her eyes trailing on her husband as everyone did their warmups. "well, you were missed just as much. Seriously, i don't think I've ever seen trent this down. i wouldn't be surprised if he cried himself to sleep."

you couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter at her last retort, knowing full well that he slept on your side of the bed just to feel somewhat closer to you. but hey, you couldn't judge him, you did the exact same thing when he was gone.

It wasn't long before the match started that you were once again fully immersed in it. Whenever you went to any of their matches you would wonder how rike put up with your endless screaming and complaining.

"klopp might have to sign you as manager after he retires," the older woman chuckled to herself as she watched you jump from your seat during trent's penalty that was nothing short from perfection even though it was technically an own goal.

by halftime, fulham was in the lead, 3-2 and you could practically feel the boys' stress radiating from the field. rike stayed with you during half-time since you couldn't see trent just yet, no matter how desperate you were but she did a good job at keeping you distracted.

If there was one thing you noticed, however, it was that trent didn't bother looking up at the box once the entire game which he always did when you came to watch them play. which for sure meant that he had no idea you were here but you were glad that his mood was lifted after he took the penalty.

It was the last three minutes of the game and it was tied 3-3, and you were on the edge of your seat. You were so stressed out that you had to take off your jacket even though it was anything but warm in the stadium.

you watched eagerly as the ball was passed back from the goalie, back to darwin, all the way to macca who finally passed it to trent, who successfully gave liverpool their finisher for the evening. you and rike were beyond ecstatic and probably looked like lunatics to everyone else in the booth but that didn't matter.

when you heard the whistle blow after the additional time was over you didn't waste a second and immediately sprinted down, out the tunnel and to the field. your brain was for sure on autopilot mode because you couldn't recall anything besides your feet carrying you to the exit.

you halted in your tracks for a moment when you felt the crisp air hit your arms, but you didn't care and needed nothing more than your boyfriend. for a split second, you made eye contact with dom but you gave him a look and he immediately shut his mouth that was nothing short of a smile.

you took one last deep breath and somehow wove your way through the crowd to end up where trent was talking to a member of the other team. You took your time and patiently waited behind your boyfriend until he was gone to tap his shoulder.

trent turned around, of course, his lips pursed and his face flushed red due to the adrenaline rush. It took a moment for him to register the fact that it was actually you and not someone playing tricks on him but the second you opened up your arms he was at a loss for words.

"are you just going to stare at me or-- ah!"

the latter. definitely the latter.

before you knew it, you were engulfed in one of the tightest hugs you've ever experienced. you couldn't help but melt at the familiar feeling of being in trent's embrace, knowing that you missed it way more than you originally thought.

trent pulled away from the hug to get a better look at you, completely disregarding the screams from the fans as well as the cameras that were going off. he didn't care because all he saw was you. all he wanted was you.

"what are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming home for another two weeks," he said exasperated and put his hands on your bare arms.

you gave him a simple shrug in response. "why would I want to see the eiffel tower for another two weeks when I could come home and be with you instead?"

that was enough to bring a cheeky smile to trent's face, "It was that boring huh?" he took your hand into his and led you into the tunnel where everyone else was.

his eyes wandered adoringly over your features, taking the time to fully let your presence sink in. he didn't admit it but he for sure was not going to let you leave him for more than a week from now on. If you wanted to go on a trip then he'd be more than happy to tag along, but no way was he going to suffer again.

"did you take my jersey with you?" His question made you look down at the red liverpool jersey you were wearing, his number flaunted at the back.

"what? just because I was watching your matches from a hotel room does not mean that I'm not gonna dress accordingly babe."

trent gave your hand a light squeeze. "oh I love a supportive girlfriend."

you lightly scoffed and turned your head to the front, where you saw curtis and Ibou making fun of harvey, probably about his height judging by the way they were pretending not to see him.

"I know you called jude."

trent's eyes widened a fraction, "it wasn't for anything serious!"

#trent alexander arnold x reader #liverpool fc #liverpool x reader #football imagine #fluff #trent alexander arnold fluff #blurb #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #footballer x you #cherrei writes

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