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kiaxet · 1 year

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So it turns out the latest update in @somerandomdudelmao‘s apocalypse comic has been living in my head, and when that happens I need to get it out, so ~900 words of sad it is!

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Donnie is good at birthdays. He has been once he was old enough to understand the concept. It's a point of pride.

Specifically, he's good at presents. According to his data, most people who fail at presents do so because of the guesswork they seem to think needs to be involved. He's never understood the point of that. Data and hypotheses, certainly, but why guess when a definitive answer is available after a simple direct inquiry?

"What do you want for your birthday?"

Early on, the presents are easy. Art supplies. Comics. Stuffed animals. Things he could hand to Papa in an easily followed list format, or obtain for himself once they all got old enough to start safely leaving the lair and venturing into the city above. It's simple and straightforward and so, so easy to get right.

(Of course, he always has an annotated list of his own desired gifts to provide to his brothers; if he's solved the guesswork issue, he may as well make things easy for them too. Plus, that method ensures he gets what he wants.)

Things start getting a little more complicated as he and his brothers get older. Art supplies and comics and stuffed animals are still very much appreciated, and he's documented his brothers' tastes well enough to know exactly what they like, but the answers to his simple direct inquiry are different.

"Dee, can you help me plan this mural out? I think I have enough space, but I could use a hand with the measurements."

"Donton, my half of the day is gonna be a Jupiter Jim marathon, and I need you there. Without your laptop." A beat. "But you can pick one of the movies if you want."

"Hey Donnie, you think you can help me out fixing up the gym? Things just stay put longer if you weld 'em."

After a few years of documentation, Donnie spots the pattern. His brothers appreciate physical gifts from him, certainly, but that's not what they want anymore. What Donnie's family wants from him is time - time outside the lab where he spends a good amount of his days, time spent in conversation or shared activity or simply in the same room. It's not as easy as finding the right physical gift, but if that's what they want, then he's more than happy to provide. Now that he's discerned the pattern, it's just as easy to give his brothers what they want, and Donnie can continue to maintain that he is Good At Birthdays as a point of pride.

~~~~~~~~

The Hamatos don't do birthdays anymore. There's no time in the apocalypse, no supplies, and Donnie is one of the few who actually keeps track of the calendar date. The apocalypse certainly has its share of anniversaries, a list that only grows the more people they lose, but birthdays are no longer celebrated.

With one exception.

Casey Jones Junior, their collective adopted kid, is young enough that birthdays still matter - should still matter. They do their best to keep him safe and keep those days calm and happy for him, despite everything happening around them, and while they don't always succeed, they at least try.

And damn it all, Donatello is still good at birthdays.

"Casey Junior!" He greets the kid with a grin, leaning on his bo like it's not both an inconvenience and a humiliation to need to rely on it in order to stay upright.

"Uncle Tello?"

"Since I'm not very good at guessing, I'll ask straight out." This is not entirely true - he has a list of potential gifts for Casey drafted, with 98% certainty that whatever Casey asks for will align with one of them - but he requires that confirmation to move forward. A certainty in a world where certainty is in short supply. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"My...ah." Casey's expression falls and he looks away, gaze fixed on the paperwork in his hands. Donatello says nothing, pointedly ignoring the elephant in the room in order to give Casey space. "You...can do anything," Casey starts.

"Pretty much, yes." Material issues aside - spirits know he'd have a cure for whatever the Krang had infected him with if those weren't a concern.

"I want you to stay alive," Casey says, and Donnie's smile freezes in place as Casey looks back up at him. "Can you do that?"

Damn that two percent uncertainty.

"Ah. Of course." He shrugs, as though he doesn't know exactly what Casey is asking for, and pulls up a holographic display of a calendar. "According to my calculations, I will be alive next month, which means I'll be here for your birthday." Not talking about it won't solve the problem, but it may salvage this conversation. "So! What's an actual gift you want?"

"I want you to be here." Casey's gaze finds a point on the floor, and Donnie falls silent. "Not just for a month."

No. No, he needs something concrete - something he can act on - he knows how long his list of responsibilities is, but he still feels stymied, rushing up on the end, and he needs something he can do- "But it's not a gift," he replies, a last-ditch effort he's fairly certain is bound for failure-

"No. No, it is."

As always, all Donnie's family wants from him is time.

And now, at the end of his rapidly-shortening life, it's the one thing he can no longer give them.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #somerandomdudelmao #cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt casey jr #fic #I wrote this with a wicked case of vertigo #so if it doesn't make sense I'm blaming that #breaking that writer's block WIDE open #writing

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yuutx · 4 months

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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ! (𝒮𝒞𝒜𝑅𝒜𝑀𝒪𝒰𝒞𝐻𝐸)

scaramouche x f!reader . 18+ content. ⟆ nsfw + unprotected sex/raw sex. breaking in. scummy scaramouche.somnophilia. mentions of past non-con (this fic is consensual though !). breeding kink. dirty talk. mention of having children. creampie. ⟆ mdom + fsub ⟆ not proofread ! ૮꒰ྀི ៸៸៸៸ ก꒱ྀི১

finally writing for scara ! this fic took me soo much effort to write because i've been having major writers block aaah ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

The shattered shards of glass on the ground scattered as his body made its way in, stepping through the window and landing gracefully. The moonlight shone on the floor of the bedroom he entered, the figure on the bed sleeping soundly as the breeze from the broken window blew their hair slightly. His gaze was fixated on you, the smile that was on his face nothing more than sinister. He approached the bed slowly, making his way around it until he stopped by your side, his eyes examining your form as you laid under the blanket.

The man bent down until his lips were at your ear, "Oh (Y/N)~" he cooed softly. "Wake up, sleepy head." He whispered, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. Your face scrunched up as his fingers brushed against your skin, your eyes fluttering open slightly before closing again. Scaramouche frowned at your lack of reaction, his hand going under the covers and sliding down to your hips. "Oh, (Y/N).. Thats no fun.." He pouted, his fingers hooking on the hem of your shorts. "Don't you wanna show me some love, baby? Didn't you miss me?" He asked as his fingers slipped into your shorts, his fingers rubbing on the thin fabric of your panties. A soft noise escaped you, your thighs moving together to push his hand away. "Hm.." Scaramouche thought for a moment, his fingers stopping their actions as he looked down at you. "Why are you always so mean to me, huh? Everytime i try to fuck you, you push me away or start screaming for help." He complained. "I just wanted to give you my love.. Is that too much to ask for?" He sighed, his fingers going back to stroking the front of your panties. "You can't even appreciate my affection, darling. That really hurts my feelings." Scaramouche puffed his cheeks slightly, his fingers slipping under your panties and touching the soft skin of your cunt.

"But that doesn't matter." He hummed, his fingers tracing along your slit and rubbing against your clit. You squirmed slightly, letting out a small whine. "You're gonna give me the attention I want, whether you like it or not." Scaramouche declared, his free hand ripping the blanket off of you and throwing it across the room. "So don't even try to get away from me." He hissed, his fingers teasing your entrance as he climbed on top of you. Your body flinched when his hands grabbed at your thighs, pushing them apart as he situated himself between them. He let out a low groan, his hips rutting against yours, "Shit, baby." He breathed, his clothed cock pressing against your pussy. You turned your head, your eyes slowly opening as his movements got rougher. "Scara..?" You called out tiredly, his movements stopping immediately as he looked down at you with wide eyes. "Ah, fuck." Scaramouche muttered.

His face scrunched up as he started thinking about what to do, his fingers still in your panties. His thoughts were interrupted by your sudden moan, his hips thrusting forward instinctively as you arched your back. "Scara.." You moaned out, your hand reaching down and grabbing his wrist. Scaramouche let out a shaky sigh, his eyes closing as his fingers rubbed your clit slowly. "Shit, I can't stop now." He groaned, his cock throbbing in his pants as he listened to you moaning his name. He pressed his fingers down on your clit, the pleasure causing your hips to buck against him. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, his hips rocking against you as his other hand pushed his pants down. "Don't scream, okay? Don't scream this time, don't call for help.." Scaramouche begged as his cock slid against your slick cunt. "I need it.. I really fucking need it." He grunted, his head dipping down and resting against your shoulder. "I'll be quick, I promise." He mumbled, his fingers pulling your panties aside and gripping his cock. "So please don't ruin this for me.." He breathed as the head of his cock slipped inside you, his hips slowly thrusting forward and letting you take him inch by inch. "Oh.. Oh shit.." He cursed, his cock bottoming out in your tight heat. He panted against your neck, his hand grabbing the front of your shirt and lifting it up. He leaned back, his eyes focused on the soft mounds of your chest as he pulled his hips back. "I-I can't hold back.." Scaramouche choked out, his hips thrusting forward and bottoming out once again. His eyes snapped shut, his cock twitching inside you as he let out a strained groan.

His thrusts were shallow and slow, the man above you shaking with need. He whimpered softly, his fingers pinching your nipple. "Oh fuck, (Y/N).." He whispered, his hips rocking against yours as he tried his best to keep himself composed. His hand trailed down your stomach, his fingers brushing against the slight bump on your lower stomach. "Look, baby.. Can you feel me here?" He panted, his cock throbbing as he pressed down on the bulge. You whined, your hips rocking against his in an attempt to take his cock deeper. "Shit.." Scaramouche gritted his teeth, his hips pulling back and slamming forward, your slick walls clinging to his cock and pulling him deeper. "Oh god, baby.." He moaned, his resolve breaking as he started to desperately rut into you. "I need it.. Oh fuck, I need it.." Scaramouche whined, his hands grabbing the front of your shirt as he slammed his cock into your heat. His moans filled the room, his mouth hanging open as he pounded into you. "F-fuck, I love you, baby." He stuttered, his fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt tightly, before tearing it down the middle. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his mouth watering at the sight. "S-so beautiful.." Scaramouche whispered, his hands palming your breasts as his hips moved faster. "I-I love you.." He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppy as he felt his climax nearing. "I love you, s-so let's have children, o-okay?" Scaramouche suggested, his thumb pressing down on your clit as he fucked into you. "A-and we can get married a-and.." He trailed off, his moans interrupting his train of thought. He leaned down, his hands grabbing your waist as his hips rocked against yours. "Just- Just marry me, okay?" He asked, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

The bed creaked underneath the two of you, his hips snapping forward harshly. Your moans rang through the air, the wet sounds of his cock sliding into your cunt adding to the obscene symphony. You gasped, your back arching off the bed. "Oh shit, shit, shit, shit..fuck!" Scaramouche babbled, his cock throbbing inside you. His movements became erratic, his hips sloppily rocking against yours. He leaned down, his arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you close to his chest. "Please, please, please.." He moaned, "Cumming inside.. cumming..i'm cumming..cum with me..oh, oh.." Scaramouche choked out, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep in your pussy. You let out a loud moan, your walls clenching around his cock as you reached your climax, his cum filling you up as he fucked you through your high. You panted heavily, your body twitching every few seconds. Scaramouche let out a strained groan, his hips grinding against yours slowly. He stayed still, his cock still twitching and throbbing as his cum leaked out of you.

Scaramouche lifted his head slightly, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours. His lips curled up into a lazy smile, his hand reaching up and caressing your cheek. He leaned forward, his lips connecting with yours in a slow kiss. "Mm.." He hummed, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him access to deepen the kiss. Scaramouche tilted his head, his tongue tangling with yours, the two of you letting out soft moans as his cock throbbed inside you. Scaramouche broke the kiss, his tongue licking along your bottom lip, before pulling away completely. "Did such a good job..took me so well.." Scaramouche purred, his cock slowly sliding out of you, before plunging back in. "Mm..love you." He mumbled, his hips moving in small circles. "I love you so much.."

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dilfomaniac · 3 months

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❝𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙠❝

leon kennedy x fem!reader ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

ft. Death Island Leon S. Kennedy

wc: 3.409

cw: ddlg, age gap, innocence kink, p in v, riding, creampie, praise kink, rough sex

note: This was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being a rushed fic ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა writer’s block has me in a chokehold lately, ignore parts that don’t make sense !! i’ll fix those tmrw cuz 3 in the mornin… ͟mdni 18+

The silence in the room is steep, the lack of light even more than so. Wind knocks itself against the window, every tremor making you feel like its aim is to break in. Your heart is racing, your eyes wide and on the lookout for the source of your alarm. Of course, there’s none, but you haven’t really grown out of childish habits. You’ve heard stories after stories about houses being haunted, ghosts residing in each and every corner waiting to pounce on defenseless girls like you, and it’s been stuck to you ever since. Stored inside your head as a core reminder that something’s creeping in the dark.

You’re the ripe age of nineteen, there’s no particular reason for you to believe this still. Fear of the dark should’ve been abandoned when you were twelve - when the failing of classes and smothering glare of teachers vanquished the rest of the worries. At this point, it’s just laughable. Even your stuffed animals are starting to look awfully odd. You look past one shoulder, past the other, detect no strange entities and wash down the dryness in your throat. You’re curled up in a ball, snug like a puppy, hoping to fall asleep like one when something welts your window. Your head snaps towards the sound and you see something flit behind the windowpane, flashing its ominous identity to you. The child inside you screams - you’re quick to comply with it, tossing the blanket off yourself and scampering out of your bedroom like an overgrown puppy.

You scurry your way downstairs, hand on the railing gathering dust on your fingertips. There’s better lighting here, because Daddy’s fallen asleep with the TV on, snoring to the mumbles of another sitcom you told him about, as if he genuinely watches those. You lower the volume until it’s mute, not daring to turn the TV off because it’s the only source that illuminates the room enough - save for the crescent shimmering moon which didn’t do you much help back in your bedroom. Making your way towards the sofa you observe Leon who's sleeping like a top - head over the back of the couch and mouth tipping agape. You fail to stifle a giggle, but this is no laughing matter, mind you. He promised you, oh, he promised you so many times he’d come and join you in the bed eventually, but he didn’t. “Okay, sweetheart. You go, and I’ll be there soon, yeah? Daddy has some things to finish,” No, Daddy just wants to make an empty promise and fall asleep on the couch. He always does, likes the feel of giving you a heavy heart. Your brows crinkle with lack of guilt when you go to nudge his shoulder. Leon’s a light sleeper, so his eyes burst open like a puppet, old geezer snoring cut short.

“Baby—” His chest rises in a beat, hand clutching your wrist reflexively. He takes a moment to shake the remaining sleep off, tossing his head back and clearing his throat to waken. “You were supposed to be asleep.”

The audacity he has to say that, when you were supposed to be asleep with him, not without him. Ghosts don’t come up to scratch when Daddy’s with you, because you know he’s stronger and that they’ll be put off by his mere presence. “You didn’t go to bed. You lied to me,” the accusation comes down as you sink your nails into his forearm, small flecks of red imprinting onto his skin. “You promised me.”

“Yeah. Yeah— Daddy knows,” His brows furrow. Your antics extort a rumbly groan from his throat, but it isn’t until he glares at you that you let go of him sheepishly. It’s just that you can’t help it while you’re like this. Leon is your only safe zone, but he’s so old he can’t even control when he sleeps. “Well, I thought you’d be a big girl and be asleep by the time I’m back. Guess not, huh?” He chuckles silvery and before you see it he’s propping you over his leg, letting you sit pliant like a marionette with your knees dipping in the gaps, entwining in his legs. You’re not easy to play like one, though - you opt to stay your ground by smacking him on the cheek to which he balefully clutches your wrist. “Don’t go throwin’ hands now.”

“You’re an A-hole.” You say bluntly. He blinks at you as if trying to say how insufferable you are in morse code. “Something— something was behind the window. I think it wanted to break in, and you weren’t here.” You say more like a protest than a distressed denunciation. Leon’s hands come to cradle you, from your back all the way to your scalp, holding you to himself like a baby who can’t support its head yet. He shakes his head, tongue in cheek, so sick of being woken up in the middle of the night because of things so mediocre, but all the more understanding of you. Because you’re his baby. His ray of sunshine. A pretty little thing who makes his day-to-day routines somewhat more endurable. “What, you scared of ghosts now?”

“I’m not!” You say crossly, God forbid your fragile little ego is hurt. “I’m not scared of ‘em, okay? I’m just saying, if someone were to break in, and you weren’t there, it’d be your fault.” It’d also be his fault if you had a nightmare and had no one to lull you back to sleep. Things like this aren’t easily forgivable, you want to tell him, but he already knows.

Leon takes in the scent of your pomade, fingers threading aimlessly through your hair. You can tell he’s not as worried as you are, but maybe that’s because he knows better and you’ll never know as much even if you conjoined the three remaining brain cells in your head. “Well, I promise you sweetheart, no scary monster s’gonna take you while I’m here,” then he bounces you on his knee and you feel your senses liquify. “You know you’re safe with me. You aren’t a dumb girl, are you?”

You shake your head, peeking at him between your lashes. You are a dumb girl but don’t entirely want to be one. It’s funny to see how all your worries dissipate once the honeyed lilt sinks in, putting you into an entirely different mental state. “I was scared,” you murmur. Leon only hushes you, bobbing his knee like consoling a toddler.

“I know, baby. I don’t blame you for it.” His stubble scrapes your cheek and then you’re dipping your face lower, nose brushing over a bared clavicle. Leon smells so good, so falsely evocative and citrusy and paternal. Like a daddy you’ve never had but always wanted, and it has you addicted. “Guess I have to make it up to little missy then, huh?” He stops to look you in the eye, his glare piercing and yet soothing and alluring all at once. Like he’s trying to read you by your expression alone, find out what goes on in that lil’ head of yours that can’t fit more than maybe a few social interactions per day.

You clutch the hem of his shirt and give him all the puppy eyes you’ve got, tilt your head and play dumb like he equally appreciates. “Uhm, yeah?” He cups your cheeks instantaneously, plants a slew of sloppy kisses across your forehead ‘cause cute aggression is real, and he’s more than likely to eat you up if your cheeks don’t deflate. “You owe me big time, idiot,” you pout, “ ‘Cause you never listen to me.”

You’re met with an eye roll and then Leon’s flipping you over so your positions are swapped, you now spread over the couch and him hovering above you. He holds both your hands in one hefty palm and pins them over your sternum, pushes down like he’s trying to submerge you into the cushions. You peep and fend off, even in your sleepy state because you know what comes after he’s fully overpowered you. You’ll scream bloody murder if he starts tickling you. However, to your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he shores you up on the couch and slumps beside you with a soft grunt. “Think we can reserve playtime for tomorrow?” He says. After getting you riled up? No, but, matter-of-factly, it’s way past your bedtime. You bat your lashes solemnly, cast your gaze elsewhere. When you think about it, there will be no playtime, really. Because Leon’s always off on business trips - always on the go to fill his devoir while you’re at home rotting away in pink comforters and stroking yourself to sleep. It’s unfair - so, so unfair, how he makes you wait like a puppy, because you’re so entirely co-dependent on him. You fold your arms and clamber to the opposite side of the couch, avert your face to hide the crimson scattering your cheeks. Leon knows this change of air by rote, knows that his pretty princess is upset, and he knows by heart what your doleful puppy eyes look like, even if you try to hide them from him.

“I’m just kiddin’. I had something else in mind, actually,” he coos at you, one hand planting itself on your thigh and parting it from the other. “Daddy would never lie to you, yeah baby?” The wetness across your neck takes you by surprise when Leon seals the gap between you, making you want to shrug off.

“Tickles,” you mew, raising your hand to his face which he swiftly takes hold of and sets down. You don’t object, ‘cause while you may be bratty, Daddy’s wants will never go over your head. Heat uncoils inside your lower stomach and you start rubbing your thighs with need, stealing glances from Leon who’s nipping you with such fervor, you start doubting whether this takes less energy than your regular playtime.

“Thought you’d get away so easily, huh? Not a chance,” the metal clink of the belt has you transfixed when you’ve just started squirming, as you sit stockstill beside Leon. He looks at you with a grin - you sit there with panties soaked from one-sided kissing alone. There’s that tent on his lap, like he gets in the mornings. You try to wet your lips but clamp your tongue when he sucks a hickey onto a velvety patch of skin, tugging his briefs down until the forbidden part springs up and whacks him on the gut. Seeing it makes you shudder, snap your head away so fast as if a bare look will contaminate your innocence.

“Yeah, bunny? That so? Don’t like Mr. Horsey?” He exhales with a sneer - you try not to hyperventilate because of the amount of blood that gushes to your face then. You steal one small peek and turn away again, closing your eyes as if the thing will disappear on its own, making Leon chuckle heartily. “Well, I think Mr. Horsey likes you.”

You’re sure neither you nor Leon imagined your lives would ever lead to this moment. Leon for an entirely different reason, but you due the fact that you’ve been turned down by every partner who failed to break down the nature of this play. You never realized how much it meant to you, though, to be purely virgin. “Um,” you teeter more to the edge, eyes darting to all corners of the room, “I like him too— I don’t know.”

He takes it for granted, moving closer until you feel his breath waver. The glow of the TV strains your eyes, casting a fluorescent light which disguises your blush. Leon sets your hand on his crotch, hums contentedly when your palm lays smoothly on his shaft and your fingers grip. “Yeah,” he says. “He likes it when you play with him, baby.” His hand comes to rest on his side and he lets you take the lead, leaning back and exhaling in a way that screams he’s pent, and you better get stroking.

You palm him to the best effort, watching closely to see if what you’re doing with your hand is good enough. All the jerking off you’d done before was winged, and you never really put your mind to it. Leon gave you a chance to learn to actually please a man, and you can never wait to suck up all the praise you can. “Like this?” Your voice squeaks - you suck the inside of your cheek meekly. Leon nods and lets his eyes fall shut when your hand delivers the wet squelches, pre slicking up the entirety of your palm and leaking through your nimble fingers. There’s the faintest bucking of hips and you see him tense before coming to a halt, restraining himself. You’re so wet it hurts. You need him bucking into you instead, and not holding back.

Leon’s cock oozes generously upon your ministrations and before you know it you’re moving on top to straddle him. Real cowgirl in the making - so excited to have her first ride. He croaks dizziedly, hands hooking behind your knees and helping you up on his lap. You think back to how the Redfields see you two, what they don’t know about you. Maybe the fact that Leon has a college kid for a lapdog isn’t the worst thing that's been happening around here. Maybe that he breeds it on a daily without a pinch of guilt is a fair enough transgression. The waistband of your mini is yanked down when Leon hikes you up on his knee, forcing you to shimmy out of it. He feels up the plush of your pussy, prods through your dampened panties like that doesn’t make you all the more desperate. You’re drooling, practically. If Leon didn’t know any better, he’d stick his fingers down your greedy cunt, but you’ve got to work for it first.

“Come on, baby. Rub yourself on Daddy,” he pulls your panties aside, and you’re so quick to listen. You sink down, hands perched on your ankles until your slippery folds engulf his tip. You’re making quite the mess - to that he toots but otherwise leans back to observe how his princess is willing to fulfill her duty. You buck your hips back and forth, run your nub over his slit repeatedly and whimper like a bitch in heat. When you slide too close to your hole, he slaps your tit, grips your chin between two fingers to give you a warning. This is the root of this whole ordeal - him fucking you to a pulp, turning you into a full crazed nymphomaniac and then leaving like nothing happened. It’s not fair, not fair at all - and the worst part is he’s sure to serve you justice using the same treatment. Fucking you so hard you forget you ever doubted him in the first place.

“Just like that. Good girl,” he murmurs, speaking to you like you’re mentally deficient - which you are. You test your luck by squeezing yourself down, attempting to take him in a little, but Leon’s cock springs like a twig, flaps over you with a wet squelch. You whine.

“Daddy!” you grumble like it’s his fault you failed so miserably. He shakes his head, “You know I spoil you too much,” and with that, Leon jams himself inside until he’s breaching you to the brim. You were wrong for being so hasty - he’ll give you a bitter taste.

Startled, you drape your head over his shoulder and sink your nails into his back. You could feel the jab to your cervix, and while that wasn’t particularly good, the feeling of Leon seating you to the hilt sent you straight to heaven. You haven’t had him since so long - you swore at times you clenched on nothing. Leon fills you so good, God, he fills you better than anyone has ever had, and it drives you mad when he doesn’t. You sit bandy-legged when his arms lock around your shoulders, bringing you up so he can slump you back on his cock. Horsey, right? Chris and Claire wouldn’t see either of you in the same light if they knew.

“You might just be the dirtiest girl, yeah baby?” He groans, and the tone alone is enough to have you gripping. You shake your head, dirty isn’t exactly your most-liked title. “No?” Leon thrusts deep and you jump up with him, hugging him tight for comfort.

“No! ‘m not—” He rocks you on him, does all the work cause you’re a pillow princess even on top. So spoiled, and yet he’s to blame. Maybe you’ll change one day, but so far he hasn’t had the guts to work you for that outcome. “But you woke Daddy up so you could have his cock up that drooly pussy, didn’t you?” he says and the words jab straight into that spot. Leon groans and then you’re moving on your own, sheathing yourself on him over and over until a ring of white gathers around the base of his cock. Now you get it. Now it’s horsey.

“Sorry, Daddy. I missed you so much— sorry,” you recite like a plea, stumbling over your words after a moment, until it’s just unintelligible moans, because Leon’s cock pounds you so good. You lick the sweat off his temple, watch his brows furrow when his hands grip your hips and squeeze impossibly tight, lips catching over yours when your movements grow shaky.

“Sorry— I’m sorry, sorry— Daddy—” Leon shushes you when he begins to thrust in tandem with your wobbly hops, thrusting to a depth you thought was impossible to reach before. You see it flash before you and soon he’s lifting your body, holding you up as he drives relentlessly into your wetness, back arched and nose nuzzling the crook of your neck with sharp primal grunts. Daddy fucks you so good. Daddy pampers you so much. Daddy loves you to the moon and back, and he’s going to give you warm milk to put you to sleep.

“Fuck, baby— You’re a natural. Rode the horsey so good, now it’s Daddy’s turn—” your heart skips a beat when you’re thrown over the coffee table, all the items toppling over with a row of clattering, and Leon being able to dig deeper into you when you thought he’d reached your limit. You throw your legs over his shoulders, your panties begin to tear and the table begins to crack until you’re screaming his name. Fuck. God. The pressure inside you amplifies and then you’re struck by unadulterated bliss, the familiar warmth coating your inner walls which is quick to gush out the seams as Leon gives one last jab to secure the tip against your cervix. His hair is wet and he heaves like a dog, hands still holding you tightly against the table which you fear might collapse any minute now. You shiver - he gives your side a good smack and pulls out of you with a plop, all what he planted inside you oozing out in thick dollops. Not on his watch, though, ‘cause he pushes it back placidly, panting.

“Good enough for today, princess,” he says but you’re already out of it, lashes fluttering as you try to grip onto your consciousness, but Leon knocked all the breath out of you, you’ve expired. You hum, feeling your walls pulse and chest swell in a slow-paced rhythm. It’s like that one time you convinced him you’d be able to handle an all-nighter but fell asleep one hour past midnight. “Well, you set yourself a record,” because it’s just one hour later which is impressive for a little girl like you.

He’ll have to change you into something more comfortable. A miniskirt and knee highs on a winter day? What, were you trying to whore yourself out to the Ghosts? He gets it, you were just asking for it, just wanted to stick your cute ass to get his attention, but sometimes you’re genuinely stupid. His stupid girl. Drunk off Daddy’s milk - he’ll bear that in mind. Sliding his hands under your frail body, he makes the dire mistake of trying to lift you when the coffee table caves in and snatches you with it. Auntie Jill called Daddy a ‘fucking cheapskate’ once when she was over - now you get what she meant.

#૮ • ﻌ - ა⁩🐾#fics 💌#leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #leon x reader smut #death island leon

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norman-fucking-reedus · 3 months

Text

I’ve been having such bad writers block and have so many ideas but I have no clue how to break them down into writing so

DARYL W A DICK PIERCING??????

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Imagine sex with Daryl for the first time. Months of playful fighting and friendly flirting leads you both down in the basement, tripping over each other’s feet and wildly making out, hands pawing at one another’s clothes.

Daryl fell down onto the couch and groaned as you followed suit, climbing into his lap and grinding down against it, feeling his large bulge. Your lips moved sloppily against each other, Daryl’s blistered hands stroking your waist before running up your back and started unclasping your bra. You pushed yourself onto your knees and slid the garment off, laughing as you grabbed Daryl’s face and stuffed it between your boobs. He spoke but it came out muffled and vibrated your core.

His hands circled around and rested right under your chest, only after he teased a nipple with his fingers. You reached behind you and started to undo Daryl’s pants, only enough to get his cock out.

When it sprang free from it’s confinements, you gasped lightly. “I knew you’d have a nice cock” You lowered yourself off your knees and off his lap completely, smiling up at him when he made space for you between his legs. You kept your eyes on him as you undid your own pants, sliding a hand down between your folds before pulling it back out, wrapping a slick hand around his cock.

He was at least eight inches with a boyish curve, pubes thick as they climbed his navel and up his stomach. There was a thick vein on the underside and a few more on his front. His tip was a deep red, and it made the metallic piercing stand further out. You felt your eyes sparkle and cunt drip, hand slowly and teasingly stroking him. “Can ya even put all’tha in yer mouth?” Daryl grunted, running a hair through his hair to prevent from grabbing yours. “Been practicing for months” You whispered against his tip, and a bead of pre-cum formed. You ran it across your lips before parting them, sucking and licking the sensitive spot. Daryl shuddered and whimpered above you, head thrown back with his eyes screwed shut. Your hand continued stroking him as your mouth worked his tip, a sharp gasp caming from Daryl when you gently tugged his piercing with your teeth.

You slowly but surely started to take more of him into your mouth, tasting yourself on him as you continued easing your way down, using your hand as guidance. When his tip bumps the back of your throat, nose nuzzling in the musk of his pubic hairs, thats when his cock really starts to stretch you, the large base causing a strain to the sides of your mouth. You brought your head up and then back down, steadying your to repeatedly bring his tip all the way to your throat.

Daryl groaned as your tongue swirled around him and your hand tightly gripped him as it followed your mouth. You pulled off to get some air, spitting onto his tip and quickly stroking him with your hand, sliding his cock back into your mouth and bobbing your head at a much quicker speed. You slightly gagged each time his pierced cock head bumped your throat, and it was driving him insane.

He lifted his head to watch you, to watch how your swollen spit covered lips looked stretched widely around his cock. “Ya’ look real nice down there” He whispered above you, face an adorable shade of red. You winked at him as you continued your pace, speeding up a little as you felt him start to twitch in your mouth.

You suddenly pulled off him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his leaking tip. “Hell ya’ do that for?” Daryl grunted, watching as you rose to your feet and shoved your pants down, kicking them off as you climbed back into his lap, sliding your soaked folds across his cock. You gripped his shoulders for balance as you grinded against him, guiding his hands onto your bare hips. “Can’t wait for you to split me open” You dipped down to suck at the skin on his neck, shifting your hips around until the head of his cock finally caught your entrance. Daryl pushed you down, and you both moaned at how easily he slipped in, blissfully stretching you in the process. You kept your grip on his shoulders tight as you started to bounce on him, panting and gasping as he had you completely stuffed, hitting spots inside that you didn’t even know about.

Daryl watched, one hand on your hip and the other running up and down your waist. He watched as you threw your head back, shamelessly moaning as you increased your pace. “Havin’ fun with yerself, doll?” Daryl huffed as you looked down at him, licking your lips and grinding against him. “So much” Before he knew it your lips were on his, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he drank down every little sound you made. He pulled you closer by wrapping his arms securely around your middle before thrusting his hips harshly up, your body jerking as he did. You pulled away and wrapped your own arms around his shoulders, dropping your face onto an arm as he railed into you.

You whimpered and whined at how rough he was going, sliding himself impossibly deeper into the core of your body. “Gon’ make ya cum all over m’dick princress” Daryl’s voice was deep and heavy in your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting and bruising the skin. You could tell he was close by the way his hips sped up, and his breathing had become a lot harsher. “Gonna fill me up even more? I wanna feel you run down my legs” You whispered as your toes curled, feeling your orgasm pool in your stomach. “Yer gonna feel me in yer pussy, for days” He grunted through his teeth, one of his large hands gripping the back of your neck as you lips clashed together once more, only this time it was much softer, contrary to Daryl’s rough grip on your body as his orgasm took over, hips still blissfully rocking into you. You both trembled against each other, your fingers curling into his flesh as your cunt throbbed.

Daryl pulled out with a lewd pop, watching as his release leaked out your hole and onto his half hard cock. “Like what you see, Mr. Dixon?” You giggled against his lips and placed multiple kisses on his cheek. He hummed under the soft pecks and ran a hand soothingly up and down your spine. “Love wha I see… Stay down here with me?” Daryl whispered, and you stared down into his eyes with your noses practically touching. “After sex like that? Already a done deal” You both chuckled lightly before Daryl not so jokingly suggested a round two in the shower. You’d be a fool to deny.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion smut #twd #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x you #daryl imagines #twd daryl #the walking dead fanfiction

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syoounn · 15 days

Text

˜”*°•. 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 .•°*”˜

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•Yandere Fyodor x Kidnapped Reader

•cw: Dark content 18+, noncon

Disclaimer: This is all fiction and does not happen on past events. Refrain to send hate on a character and the writer. If you feel uncomfortable and hate this fanfic, please scroll a way or unfollow/block this account. Thank you for understanding.

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You woke up chained up as your body felt so numb. You felt hopeless and empty, and it's eating you alive. You wanted to get out of this place, but your body doesn't have much strength to run, as all you can do is to stand and talk.

Suddenly, you heard the door open as fear went take over your body.

"I'm home, Myshka..." Fyodor walks up to you, his eyes roaming over your figure. There is something predatory about his gaze, as though he's hunting you. As you felt your body full of bruises trembling, you couldn't look at his own eyes as you were afraid.

He runs his hand through your hair, making you turn your head. "Myshka, and have you been well behaving while I was gone?" He trails the other hand slowly down your body.

The way he's looking at making you nervous to speak up, but you can't keep quiet either. "Y-.. Yes.." you said nervously.

"Good." His voice is tender, and he runs his fingers gently along your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You've been feeling a bit lonely, though, haven't you? Why don't we fix that?"

A chill runs up down your spine, no.. not again.. tears started to form in your eyes as Fyodor wraps his arms around you and draws you close to his body, pressing his lips against your own in a forceful kiss.

You can't move nor breathe from the forceful kiss, Fyodor's movements are sudden and forceful, his grip tight. One of his hands reaches up, pushing your head into the crook of his neck as he kisses you passionately. His tongue slips between your lips, licking and sucking as he presses his body against yours. His movements are relentless, overwhelming, and almost frightening in his intensity from the kiss.

You can feel Fyodor's grip growing tighter, his body pressed against yours. His hands are everywhere, moving over you, squeezing your body in his hold as his feverish kisses continue. His tongue explores the inside of your mouth, his teeth biting slightly, while his palms roam over your back, your ribs, your thighs, your rear. You are almost breathless from the intensity of his touch—or fear. Tears started coming down from your eyes... you can't breathe, and it hurts.

Fyodor pauses abruptly, breaking away from the kiss. He breathes heavy, his chest moving quickly. Despite the force of his hold on you, he takes a few steps away. He looks at you with an intensity to his expression that is a lot more... primal than usual.

"Shh... Don't cry, Myshka... This is for both of us.. so don't resist me. He then pulls you closer until there is barely room to breath between both of you and god.. you look so adorable, looking hopeless and crying.

He then started to tugged down your shorts and removing your undergarments.

You tried to protest, but the way he looked at you coldly trying to speak and resist makes you scared as if something far more force would happen if you so that.

Fyodor manually spreads your legs wide in order to shoot himself into you. He didn't even bother to stretch you out as he tugged down his pants and preparing his hard cock to be deep inside you.

"Now.. Myshka.. be a good girl suck me in." He then shot his cock deep inside you making your body shake from the sudden thrust. Fyodor fucked you deep as he forcefully kissing you again as well sucking your neck leaving bruises and marks.

"Ah.. Myshka, you feel so wonderful tight around me..." He said while ke kept thrusting deep inside you as just seeing you sobbing from the pain you feel, making him thrust faster even more.

You started to scream his name telling him to stop as you couldn't hold much longer as how abused and fucked up you are, Fyodor wanted to fuck you till you passed out... how can he stop..? when you look so adorbale sobbing whole time while he fucked you. You're always so irresistible. He will make sure that all you can think of is him... no one else but him after all he's all yours.

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#bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #fyodor x reader #yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader #yandere fyodor #tw noncon #bsd smut #fyodor smut

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userlando · 10 months

Note

can we get max Emilian brain rot? Teasing him with a little show, getting him worked up with lingerie, not letting him touch you uGH

trying to combat my weird writers block aaaahh I hope you enjoy this 🤍

pleasant surprise (1.2k) max verstappen/fem!reader nsfw blurb

You can hear him in the kitchen, pouring himself a sugary drink and humming loudly to a song he’s had stuck in his head for the majority of the day. It makes you smile as you stand in the bathroom, staring yourself down with critical eyes because you want it to be perfect. A good surprise. Something Max will look back on when he’s gone for the week and has no one else but his hand and his vivid imagination.

It’s black, thin and strappy. The lace is so intricate and pretty that you can’t help but run an appreciative hand over the material, admiring the way the cups are holding your tits and enhancing them perfectly. It was hard to find good lingerie that did wonders for your body nowadays, and you usually went for the boring old cotton because comfort was always your first priority in that regard. But you’d gone shopping with Kika in Spain a few weeks ago and had come across this gorgeous set in the display window. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, ignoring your friend’s teasing smile when you purchased the lingerie.

“Babe?” Max’s voice drifted down the hall, footsteps getting closer and you quickly turned around with wide eyes.

“In here,” you strategically placed yourself behind the door so he wouldn’t spot you as he walked by. “I’ll be right out.”

Your boyfriend made a sound of acknowledgement and you figured his attention had been pulled by his phone, because he didn’t say or do anything else as he continued walking toward the bedroom. You took one last glance at yourself, wiping at your glossy mouth until the feeling of the sticky substance irked you; Prompting you to switch the light off in the bathroom before you started going at your face with a wet wipe.

You’d spent too long on your makeup. Granted, Max was going to probably ruin it in five minutes but you wanted to look pretty for at least a few minutes.

The man in question was standing with his back to the door when you entered, completely oblivious to your presence as he tapped away at his phone. His head twitched to the side when he heard you clear your throat gently, but he still didn’t pull his eyes away from his phone screen.

“Daniel just sent me this funny— Whoa.” He’d managed to turn around in his little ramble, light eyes going unnaturally wide as he caught sight of you standing in front of him. He swept his gaze from your toes to the top of your head, mouth opening and closing like he wasn’t sure what words to utter.

His reaction alone made you preen a little, biting down on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay as you took a step closer to him. Max’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes lingering on your midriff before you locked eyes.

“You look—“ he trailed off, clearly at a loss for words.

But what his mouth didn’t say, his body clearly made up for. His reaction spoke a thousand words and managed to boost your confidence as you turned around slowly, showing off your pert bottom hugged by the lacy thong. Max made a small noise in his throat, setting his phone down without tearing his eyes away from you before he quickly closed the distance between the two of you.

What he wasn’t expecting was for you to take two steps back, tutting loudly enough for him to halt his pace and frown at you in deep confusion. He looked dumbfounded, having been so prepared to put his hands on you and watching you melt like putty.

But your stance was different, rigid back and eyebrows raised on your forehead in a teasing display that made Max’s palms itch with the urgent need to touch you.

“You can’t do that.” He said quietly, confused by your lips breaking out into a wide smile.

He looked a little lost as he reached out his hand to place on your waist, making a sound of protest when you spun out of his reach. His hands balled into fists as he fought the natural urge to grab and pin you against the nearest surface just to hear your squealing laughter.

But he liked this game. Whatever you were doing was making his joggers feel very tight all of a sudden.

“I can and I will.” You said, voice going up in a teasing tone as you took a cautious step forward with narrowed eyes, like you were expecting him to jump forward and grab you. You looked pleased when he stayed put, reaching your arm out to touch his right pectoral with the pads of your fingers.

Max glanced at your fingers, the way they were mapping out the muscles of his skin and he inhaled quietly when you swiped over his nipple over his t-shirt, eyebrows pulling together. It was only when you put pressure in your fingers that he took a few steps back, letting you walk him back until his knees hit the bed frame. He sat down gingerly, reaching for your waist but stopping immediately when you made a noise of disapproval.

“You’re just being cruel.” He said, annoyance pinching his face as he looked up at you and it made you grin because you knew how tortured he must’ve felt.

“I’m being tactical.” You said, gently straddling him and placing both of your hands on his shoulders. “I know that you’re gonna rip these as soon as you get the chance and I paid too much for them.”

Max sucked in his lips to hold his smile back, nostrils glaring with laughter and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“I can always buy you new—“

“No.” You cut him off with a shake of your head, laughing. “Just… enjoy it.” You reached for his hands and guided them back, placing his palms against your ass.

It was hard to contain the gasp when he immediately squeezed, like he was trying to grab as much flesh in his hands as he could. You grind forward with a muted moan and it makes Max swear in your ear as you finally sit crotch to crotch.

You lean forward to capture his mouth in a kiss, smiling at the way he eagerly responds and circling your arms around his shoulders to bring him into you.

“Fuck, you smell good.” He murmured when you separated, eyelids fluttering shut when you kiss down his jawline to his ear, burying his nose in the softness of your hair.

You suck small hickeys into the skin of his throat, paying extra attention to his Adam’s Apple because you know that it makes his eyes roll. Your hands grab into him a squeak leaves your lips when he suddenly drops back on the bed, taking you with him and the expression on your face makes him laugh.

“I’m staying on top.” You said, arching a brow like he’d ever say no to that and he grins like you know he would, pulling a hand back to spank your ass cheek. “Max!”

“Get to it then.” He says it jokingly, but there’s a fire in his eyes that makes you comply happily.

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this was kinda rushed 🫢 but I just wanted to do this quickly so I could go back to writing my fic. I’m in such a slump rn that I’m trying to get out of but I hope this was somewhat enjoyable. thank youuu for your lovely request 🤍

#max verstappen smut #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen blurb #f1 fics #f1 blurb

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tc-doherty · 3 months

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TC's Practical Writing Tips

Like I said before, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that I can teach anyone how to write – that's a level of hubris even I'm not capable of –but in honor of my rapidly approaching ~quarter century of writing original fiction anniversary~, I did figure I would share the tips that I live by when it comes to the act of writing.

So without further ado:

Write it now, fix it later

2. It is always permissible – and usually enjoyable – to write the stupidest possible version

3. "Inspiration" is great for poets, but poison for people who write prose

3.1: if you want to write often, you need to write often, and then you will find that you don't need to be "inspired" because you will have made a habit of it and it will come naturally 3.2: even one sentence a day is still one sentence a day. And even one sentence a week is still one sentence a week. It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop 3.3: believing in the concept that you need to be inspired to write will trap you into believing in the concept of writer's block 3.4: if you are having difficulty getting out words that satisfy you, lower your standards and keep writing (see point one)

4. A few months down the line you will not remember which words came easily and which words did not

5. It is always permissible to set a project aside for now, or forever, if you need a break

6. Read widely and often, both in your favorite genres and outside of them

6.1: pay special attention to both things that you love and things that you hate - study them, engage with them, learn what makes yourself tick and your writing can only get stronger

7. Never write for the lowest common denominator, via wise words I once heard: "if you open the window and make love to the world, your story will get pneumonia", have an audience in mind and the people who like what you write will find it

8. Never write for the bad faith critic, those people will always exist and you will need to deal with them at some point if you put your writing in the world, but they don't matter and you cannot live in fear of them

9. It's fine and normal to want engagement and praise, however you must find a way to make the act of writing joyful in and of itself – make the praise the cherry on top, not the entire sunday

9.1: writing is hard work, and it's a lot of work, if you lose the ability to enjoy the journey and are proceeding only for external rewards from others, you will gradually write less and less if the ratio of work to rewards is unsatisfying

10. For anything other than final copy editing, always write a new draft into a new document, or else the words you have already written will trap you from being able to make large, sweeping changes

10.1: any change you make will invariably snowball, and you must give space for that snowball to roll

11. If someone tells you that something doesn't work for them, believe them, because people know what they like. But if people try to tell you what to do to fix it, take that with an entire serving of salt because you are the author, not them

12. It is always morally correct to look at a critique that you received, even if you asked for opinions via beta reading, and decide that it's bullshit and doesn't apply to you

13. "write what you know" means "write what you're interested in"

14. "Show don't tell" applies to screenwriting, not novels. This is the thing that drives me the most insane every time I see it. Novels are words on a page, not images on a screen. They require a lot of telling. Not all telling, but a lot of telling. Become comfortable with that.

15. It is always, ALWAYS acceptable to use "said", do not listen to the lies of others

16. Have fun, do it out of love and you will never go astray

17. Become comfortable with who you are. Your work is always going to be yours and it is always going to sound like you wrote it, and this is a good thing! No one else is ever going to write exactly like you, and you should be proud of that

17.1: the concept of "originality" is vastly overrated, every culture has some version of Cinderella and we still love it. Your writing is yours because you wrote it, and it will always be unique because of that

#writeblr #writing #long post #writing tips #writing advice

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taeminsung · 4 months

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♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── enchanted..

pairing || minho x reader summary || when a change in his usual routine meant meeting you, minho couldn't help but be enchanted to meet you. genre/s || love trope. fluff. romance. angst. trope || love at first sight masterlist || stray kids as love tropes mina’s notes || sorry for the delay! life was hectic and writers block sucks. please enjoy ♡

Routine was something Minho thrived in. Something about the consistency of his day in the mornings caused the inner calm to be brought to the surface before the hectic schedule of his afternoons and evenings made his peace disappear. It’s why he loved the short walk to the same coffee shop with Seungmin where they ordered their usuals, before heading off to the company building.

Until the day he walked into the café with Seungmin in toe, that his life changed without him knowing it. The sound of an unfamiliar voice filled his ears, what can I get started for you? it asked. So quickly did his attention snap to you, someone new to the place he made a part of his life. When his eyes finally landed on you, your smile took his breath away. It melted away something in his chest that he didn’t know existed. You were like a ray of light in the darkroom that he’d been stuck in for some time. Excuse me? your voice rang out again, softer this time. Seungmin nudged him with a knowing smile before placing their usual order and pulling his older brother away from the forming line.

When schedules pulled them out of their usual routine, Minho couldn’t stop the small frown that kept appearing on his face in between the different activities. Why wouldn’t he stop his mind from drifting back to you? The encounter with you didn’t last more than a few minutes, yet he thought back to your smile and soft voice. The color of your hair and how it framed your face. Minho wanted to know more about you. What were your hobbies? Did you listen to their music? Catching the eyes of Seungmin in the mirror, he only grew more frustrated at himself knowing that once this small break was over, the same conversation with his younger brother would be brought back up.

On the next flight, he couldn’t stop kicking himself once he realized that he never caught your name either. How could something he deemed so small be the only thing that consumed his mind outside of lyrics and choreography? What was it about you that kept him in this state? The lingering questions kept him up. Did you recognize them? Was there someone else in your life that you care for? What else did you do? Minho would ponder these questions while he finally got to lay in his own bed wide awake, cursing himself because he knew that the schedule would continue to take him away from you.

Why wouldn’t he bring himself to stop thinking about you? All he could dream about was showing up at your door, flowers in hand, confessing to you all the thoughts that occupied his mind since that moment he laid eyes on you. Maybe it was for the better, this, longing love for someone he didn’t even know, but that didn’t stop him from imagining what your lives would be like together. Tossing and turning, he pulled out his phone to see their schedule for the next few days, only signing when he realized how much they had going on. What if the small opening at the end of the week allowed him for a fast stop at the café just to see you for a second. Yeah, he was out of his mind.

Opening the door, the next morning, he felt the bubble in his chest seconds before your voice rang out into the quiet space. He knew it was early when he dragged Seungmin out the door, but he didn’t want to miss the chance to see you. You should ask for their name, Seungmin had suggested on the walkover. When Minho saw the same smile as before etched on your face as you greeted them asking again what you could get started, he melted a little bit. Without answering your question he instead replied with, What’s your name?, leaving Seungmin to scoff in disbelief. The soft giggle you let leave your lips made Minho’s knees grow weak as you answered, y/n, bowing slightly to him.

While Minho monitored the member's dance practice, he couldn’t focus as all that possessed his mind was you. y/n he thought. A pretty name to match the pretty face. He was going crazy. His mind wouldn’t let him do anything besides daydreaming about what a future with you looks like. Yet, he knew that Chan was about three seconds away from smacking him or kicking him out of practice until he could be fully invested. Why did you have this effect on him?

Minho’s new routine was getting to the café a little earlier than he did before to ask you one new question a day as a way to get to know you. It was obvious to everyone that he was putty in your hands while you pondered his questions every day, indulging him in making sure that no answer was a one-word answer even though you could have easily replied that way. Was this feeling mutual? What was he feeling? When you smiled at him, all he wanted to do was gift you the world. When you giggled at something he said, all he wanted to do was kiss you.

When an off day finally arrived, Minho followed his usual schedule of going to the café to see you, only to find that you weren’t there, which was the first time since he’d met you that you were there. You had become such a constant part of his days that it felt like everything in this day would go wrong. Making it back to the dorm, he watched as the others shuffled around, filling a picnic basket with food and collecting blankets. We wanted to hang out by the river today, Felix said as he ushered Minho back out the door. The other members are going to meet us there, Felix happily provided more information as he continued to push Minho down the street.

As they approached, Minho couldn’t help but think this would be a great place to take you on dates. Lounging with you, head cuddled into his lap while he plays with your hair, enjoying the weather and the company of each other. So badly did he realize that if he wanted all of these moments, he kept dreaming to come true, he needed to find time to confess to you.

A soft giggle floated across the open space between the rest of the boys and him, bringing his attention back from his daydreams to, well you who was sitting with Seungmin. His feet stopped working as he stared at you. The way you seemed to be glowing under the sun as your laugh caused your eyes to close while you tipped your head back. Gods you were breathtaking. An angel on this earth was placed into his life to bring joy back into it. Seungmin invited them, Hyunjin said as he appeared out of nowhere to grab a few things from Felix. Said something about not wanting to get up so early anymore. Felix just laughed as he continued walking past the stunned Minho. Truly he didn’t know if he wanted to smack his younger member or thank him a million times over again for this.

Then your smile turned towards him as you waved over his way, causing his feet to move without thinking about it. His hand extending down to you before asking, walk with me for a minute? A shy smile pulled at his lips when your hand slipped into his and didn’t let go once you were standing and walking with him. Hope bloomed in his chest that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way too. Stopping near the edge of the river, he finally turned to face you. The person he was so madly head over heels for. I’m glad Seungmin invited me out, you said looking out over the water, I haven’t made a lot of friends since moving here, so it feels nice to be included. Oh, how his heart ached. He couldn’t understand how someone like you hadn’t made friends yet, but he was practically glad for this little selfish moment of getting you.

I’m more than happy you could come, Minho started, pausing when you looked at him, a smile spread on your face. He felt weak in the knees just looking at you. How had you already made him this crazy over you when he hadn’t even confessed yet. I like you, he blurted out, I have since the moment I met you.

It felt like he no longer had control of his tongue or thoughts. The first day we went into the café, I was so enchanted by you. You are all I can think about in every moment. The words kept coming out of him with no sign of slowing down. Only becoming easier when the look in your eyes seemed to encourage him to continue. I just kept hoping that our story didn’t end there, Minho said before whispering, I just hope you feel the same. Slowly your fingers laced with his, tugging him slightly close to where you stood. I was over the moon when Seungmin invited me because it meant I got to spend time with you outside of the café, you said quietly, I’ve liked you since the moment you walked through the café doors.

The hope that was blooming in his chest burst, forcing him to smile while ducking his head. There it was. The words he so desperately wanted to hear. You like him, he thought before looking back to your face and gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Can I kiss you?

from mina with love ♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── thank you for reading! ♡ tag list || @orchid-mantis-petals; @i-dontevenknowman; @deadcrow-donteat; @turtledove824; @hhwangsmoon; @kidrauhlschik; @jazziwritesthings

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series, glimpse of angst, fluff, humor, strangers to friends/roommates to lovers, a bit of back and forth

word count: 4.2k

cherry here!...and it all comes crashing down.

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 5

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

For years, you spent time behind a screen, mindlessly running after Eleanor with a notepad, messy hair sticking out like a madwoman. It must’ve been quite the sight for your fellow colleagues. A constant cycle of proving yourself to others—to your own fucking parents—that what you were doing was going to be all worth it at the end. It was only right that you were utterly exhausted.

Now suddenly, there’s this boy. He has the prettiest watercolor eyes you’ve even had the pleasure of admiring, the cutest dimples, a charming nose, most feathery lashes, pinkest lips, and above all; a heart of gold. You’ve been thrown the toughest battles—the kind you would’ve fought alone if it weren’t for Amelia and Roman—but the universe has rewarded you.

In the span of a month, Charles has completely won you over. From his boyish grin to his dominating smirk. There was just something about him that fell into place with you; like a puzzle piece. The Monegasque never failed to make you feel giddy all over, butterflies soaring freely inside your stomach.

Only now, there were a different type of eyes lurking back at you. Livid, you almost flinched at the thought of them turning red. Resentful, the kind you only thought you knew. Broken, like the glass plate laying at your feet.

But the worst had to be the betrayal, written all over them.

And you knew at that moment. This was the last and only summer.

“Wouldn’t it be scary if I just zip down because a shark bit my leg?” you ponder, gently threading through the tides. The green eyed boy tilts his head in amusement. If he hadn’t taken the time to understand your wild imagination, or dark humor, then he would’ve rolled his eyes and yawned. Instead, he slowly nudges your calf, lighthearted, droplets sliding down his face.

“Not so much as scary, but rather impossible. Sharks don’t swim near the Amalfi Coast.” You nod, though there’s a skeptical aura that lingers as you fix your snorkel. The brunette sneaks a loving glance, taking in your rosy state, scrunched nose when you swallow a gallon of sea salt water. He laughs. “You should keep an eye out for jellyfish, eh. Now those are a problem.”

“Jellyfishes and I are friends. They would never intentionally hurt me. C’mon, let's go back.”

The day had started early. Four fucking a.m. The Monegasque had hurled you out of bed, declaring that time was running out and he needed to spend all of it with you. The day prior, he had promised he would always text, call, and visit. It made your heart flutter and pounce all at the same time.

Hence, snorkeling. It was a fun and quick activity, so naturally you agreed with a killer pout as you squinted at the bright sun, despite it being the crack of dawn. Signaling to a glimmery oyster, you excitedly nod when he makes his way over. Once you reach the surface again, you clap with delight. “Can you open it for me?”

He doesn’t answer, but rather focuses his attention on snapping it wide. You can feel your eyes shimmer at the sight, an electrifying pearly white. Almost greedily, you pinch it in between your fingers, bringing it up to parade. “That is absolutely stunning. Oh my God, do you think I could turn it into a ring?”

His lips curl. “I’d say so.”

After that, you both settle into a comfortable silence. The sun was blazing hot at this point, and still there was a breeze. Just when your face would start to dry up, you would dip back in and beam at the Monegasque. He grins, crinkles, hugging the corner of his eyes. He allows himself to swoon when you wink up at the rays of sunshine. “So, I was thinking…”

“Mhm,” you murmur, orbs trained on your newly prize possession.

Nerves fill the brunette’s veins, sharp hands gently massaging his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. You furrow your brows, cocking your head to the side. Is everything alright? Charles sheepishly smiles. “Well, I, uh, was wondering…” He trails off when your lips wobble, hinting that you knew what this was all leading up to. “Would you like to go out on a date? With me,” he adds shyly.

“You were kind enough to seek me a gem,” you hum. “I would love to, Charles.”

“Wonderful,” he sighs in relief. “I-I-I know we sort of skipped a couple steps a few days ago,” he stutters anxiously. Your cheeks burn up at the reminder of him in between your legs. “So— but—I’m definitely glad that we’re able to—ouch!” he yelps in pain, teeth gritting. You fill up with panic, frantically eyeing the clear water.

“What? What?” you urge. “It’s a shark, isn’t it? I knew they would find a way!” The 26 year old barely had a chance to fill you in on what was really going on, but couldn’t really do much when you zoom out, popping the pearl into your mouth safely, floppy arms threading fast to the point that they became sore.

“There’s no—oh my word.” He grimaces, a painful expression mapped out as he, too, follows you out as quickly as he can. As he limps over to you, you scream, shiny jewel falling straight onto the ground.

“Charles, Charles, Charles.” Your stomach drops, fingers jittery, “There’s a jellyfish wrapped around your ankle…”

“You’re all caught up,” he grunts. “Get it off!”

You squeal when he lifts his leg up at you. “I can’t! Can’t you kick it off or something?”

He clenches his jaw, heavy pants filling the air. “And risk getting stung again? No, thank you. I drive for a living! I need this thing off.” He flings his leg and the transparent sea-creature disconnects, landing straight into the water. He stares back astonished and you simply laugh loudly and maniacally. You did it! “Yes, now pee on it.”

“Oh—hell no. What is this? A kink of yours?” Your nose scrunches up with clear disgust, as if you just caught a whiff of a baby’s diaper. Charles scowls. It’s supposed to help—do you think I want to do this? You gag, adamantly shaking your head. “No, no, I’ve read about this! We can add vinegar!” Briskly grabbing your essentials, you grip his wrist, already dragging him to his car.

He tears up—though, denies it—almost kicks you, and groans like a baby, but survives his injury. “Better?” Barely. Washing your hands, you share a stern glare. “At home remedies. Godsend.” He sulks deeper into his seat, wet hair trapping his face. Once you dry your hands, you plop down next to him, pecking his lips. “Grump.”

A beady eye pops open before snapping back shut. “I’d like to see you get stung.” You gasp theatrically, playfully swatting his shoulder. He chuckles, hauling you atop of him. You almost giggle like a teen, but manage to tune it out. “How ‘bout our date?”

“How about you rest? Cha, we can go out tomorrow.”

His bright eyes dim. “But we only have a few days left…”

Your mood comes crashing down as well, downcast eyes flickering like fireflies. “Then I should get ready, no?” His lips turn upward. “Meet me by the door in fifteen.”

It’s a rush, digging through your suitcase, trying to find the perfect dress, the perfect flats. You lose a good chunk of hair as you comb through it, due to the salty water, but manage. You briskly fly through your makeup routine, slather your body with perfume and lotion, and dash back downstairs, finding him already standing there.

Charles was at edge up until that moment. His tenseness slips away as soon as he sees you, looking as beautiful as ever. There’s a harsh tan going on, but even that makes you all the more breathtaking. He’s not too bad himself and you know it when you blush. From his linen navy blue shirt to his denim jeans, you swoon.

“You smell like honey,” he stammers. “You look lovely.”

“Grazie.” A beat. “You got a few new ones.”

He’s generally a cool guy, but you always strike him with some type of new feeling. He burns up, softly grazing his nose where a few freckles pop up. “That always happens when I’m out in the sun for too long. Ready?” You purse your lips, skipping towards him.

When you were eight, you had your first date. You suppose that really depends on how you see it. You mother had tried to become friends with a few ladies from the local book club and you always found yourself tagging along. Obligated, more so. His name was Joey and he had two missing teeth, so every time he spoke, a lisp would come through. It made you giggle cutely as you would lick your melted ice cream off your forearm. Eventually, your mother felt the right to storm out, pulling you away, and you never saw or heard of him again.

At eighteen, you had your last. You should've known from his name alone. James. He was tall, blond, a complete know-it-all, but he had noticed you. The crush slowly died the moment his eyes trailed to the next pretty girl, and the next, and the next.

Now, you’re mid-twenties and this feels like the right choice. He isn’t missing a row of teeth, he buys you ice cream and never once rushes you, he’s tall and proud, and has a set of chocolate curls. Most importantly, he has eyes for you and only you. It was as sweet as it could get.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles raises a brow, humming along. Twirling your pasta against the metal fork, you prop your chin on your palm. “What were you doing that day at the beach? Where we first met.”

Crimson red slashes his already burnt face as he chokes on his wine. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your perspective over me.” He drums his long fingers. “I was taking a nap.”

“Oh, well, I know that, but you were basically a goner!” You teasingly whistled. “I’m a curious little monkey, so please, enlighten me.”

The Monegasque tsks, relaxing his wide shoulders. He circles the restaurant instantly before leaning in across the table. “That day I was feeling particularly stressed. I was dealing with a lot of things and I don’t remember much after that. Except when a friend gave me a so-called magic potion.” He takes a sip to fix his dry throat. “Oh it did wonders, I tell you.” Absolute wonders, he mouths.

Your eyes widen. “Like…drugs?” you hiss, bewildered at the possibility. He cringes and nods, floppy hair bouncing. Your mouth forms a silent O, then nibble on your bottom lip, letting go. “I didn’t take you for a—”

“Me either.” You hear the sound of plates crashing down as you flinch and you both turn your attention to the apologetic waiter. The older couple look pissed, bitterly curse out the poor man, and blink as if they weren’t the vulgar ones. Charles rolls his eyes, then sighs. “I don’t think I could ever understand people like that.”

“Ruthless?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. It’s ugly. Makes them look so out of touch with reality, which I suppose is true.” Green eyes flicker to the waiter once again before getting up to help. Tonight is really only the first time he’s gone out without his supposed disguise, so it’s obviously made your stomach flip at the thought of someone recognizing him.

Which they do.

“Charles Leclerc?” The accent is thick—and clearly Italian—as they step closer, phone already whipping out. The brunette turns, a lopsided smile drawn. “Holy shit! It’s really you! Can I please have a picture?” After a few minutes of chatter, the Monegasque excuses himself from the group, looking a bit suffocated.

“Being tackled in public? That’s what stresses you out, right?” His breath gets caught in his throat, but doesn’t make a move to shut the claim down. He answers by turning his attention to his lap. You sigh. “What did you take and who gave it to you?”

“You probably don’t even know him—Daniel. He’s quite the man, knows lots of people, and thought it would help. It did. Coke. I-it was my first and only try, I promise.”

You release a further breath. “You’re old enough to know your wrongs from rights. I trust you.” He eases up. “Doesn't mean you should rely on that.”

Charles looks up with a frown. “I feel like a fucking scumbag. I mean, does it make me a bad person to dread meeting fans sometimes? They’re always supporting me—it’s the least I could do.”

“You’re only human, Cha. You have your good and bad days. They would understand.” He shrugs, smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me that day you cooked that godforsaken meal?”

He nips the air. “You said it was delicious!”

You snicker, glad to see his humor coming back. “I lied. No, but you told me I had to stop pleasing everyone around me. Focus on myself. You said that. And I advise you to do the same.”

He’s heard this countless times. With Charlotte, which he only tuned out angrily, blaming her for not understanding his duties. Carlos, narrating how he of all people should understand. Pierre, smacking his head before walking away, already annoyed that too many people had tried to help, how he got called out on repeat. But with you, he simply nodded, somewhat agreeing. Not completely, but enough. That itself was a lot when it came to him and his stubbornness. Something inside of him told him he would do whatever you asked him to. It was a scary—liberating—feeling.

The last time he felt this was with…

A wave of realization slithers across his features. Charlotte. That last person he felt this familiar feeling was for Charlotte. And even then, their relationship felt foolish compared to anything he’s ever felt for you. There were sparks flying when you fluttered your doe eyes back at him, when you called him out on anything he does with a witty sense of humor…

He’s been fucked ever since the tiny ballerina kissed the hot-headed Stormtrooper.

“My words of wisdom are pretty clever,” he voices, smirking. “You’re right. I should focus more on myself.” Pause. “Thank you. For everything. For taking the time to get to know me. Not many bother these days.”

You want to cry at the gratitude written all over his handsome face, the sound of his disbelief, like a kid who genuinely thought they’d be picked last for a game of tag.

“You're very important to me, Charles.” You gently take his large hand into your smaller one. He stiffens. “You won’t ever forget that, right?”

“Not even if I try, no.” Then he presses a warm kiss onto your skin, and you feel him smile against it. “Anything you say or do would take me forever to overlook, to erase.” More pressure expands through your already firm chest, ragged breaths. “Something tells you’re a once in a lifetime type of person. How could I ever let that slip away?”

You excuse yourself in a flash, tears threatening to spill after his touch felt words. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more two-faced, he somehow squeezes your heart around his fist, and you deserve every ounce of shame, of guilt.

After a round of paper towels that you dab as harsh as soft Kleenex, you force a bright smile in the mirror, shooting a quick thumbs up and storming back out to your date.

The 26 year old was concerned about the hazy interaction, perturbed eyes blinking as you got up as if you had just seen the Devil himself, unbeknownst that you felt like one. He’s left anxiously waiting, tapping his shoes against the shiny tiles, leg bouncing up and down with anticipation. Cursing underneath his breath, he stands up and makes his way to the women's restroom. He receives a few baffled glances when he bolts down the hallway.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelp, finding Charles right in front of you when you swing the door open. His green eyes narrow like knives, carefully analyzing your pink nose, red rimmed eyes. “You scared me—”

“What did they say to you?”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

His hands make their way up to cradle your face, thumbs grazing your temples. You raise a neat brow. “Did anyone follow you? See you? Were they rude? My fans aren’t normally like this, I promise they’re sweet, but if they did anything to you, I swear to God—”

Instantly shaking your head, you let out a nervous giggle. “No one said anything, don’t worry. I just really had to pee. Promise.”

This is what he was most afraid of when he first opened up to you, to go out in public. Charles was terrified at the image of your privacy being invaded, much like his. For hurtful words or actions to be aimed at you. And then you blink up at him with a sour expression because he knows you just cried, he obviously grew protective. Leaning down, he meekly kisses your forehead. “What’s wrong then? You hate me that much?” he jokes.

You bite back a smile. “Something like that. How about we go somewhere dear to us?”

Added to the torment of what you were feeling, you didn’t think things could get any worse—and yet.

Today. By today. Get it done.

Aghast, your delicate fingers come up to your berry lips, pinching at them nervously before biting down on your thumb, re-reading Eleanor’s message. Friday. You originally had until Friday. It’s only Wednesday. Sure, only a forty-eight hour difference, but still. You wanted to hold onto the most valuable time possible if you could. You try convincing her to change her mind, but it was a worthless battle. You knew once she had her mind set on it, then that’s exactly what had to happen.

By today.

You’re sobbing, panting, your vision is blurry as you type on your phone, angry as you fiddle against the tiny screen. Who could you really be mad at? Eleanor? No. Charles? No. The universe? Tempting, but no. It was all you. If you hadn’t mentioned having a possible exclusive for the sake of saving your job, then you wouldn’t be tangled in this mess.

You can’t go down that way, it’s ladies only!

I’m terribly sorry, but I have to check on my wife.

You recognize his urgent voice, deep and raw. His words aren’t true, but it fucks you up just the same. Hurrying to slip your phone back inside your purse, you quickly fix your appearance before opening the wide door, finding Charles mid-knock.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me.”

“Back where we started,” the green eyed boy chirps when he spots the tiny pub that sits atop of the hill. “It feels as if we were just here yesterday. This is fantastic.”

“I didn’t think you loved it that much,” you poke fun, bumping your hip against his. His watercolor eyes flicker to yours for a brief moment, then focusing back at the old shed.

“Things can surely change in the span of a month.”

The implication was as clear as daylight, but it only flew past your head as you enthusiastically ran up, smiling back at him. Nico is still there, serving drinks with a cheshire grin, when he spots you. “I remember you! How have you been, cara mia? Is Italy treating you well enough?”

You buzz, tippy toeing as you sheepishly try to spot the main reason you came back. “Oh, definitely. I think I might stay. Do you, um, happen to have—”

“Got it right here,” he says, gloved hand wrapping around the familiar liquid. You blush, ordering a round—bottle—and making your way back to the Monegasque. As soon as the tray hits your table, he throws a dubious stare, thanking the older man. “Huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.” He extends his Ferrari merch with a timid grin. “Do you mind?”

Charles returns the warm smile. “Not at all.” He signs away sloppily, but professionally. Nico zooms cheerfully, eager to boast out to his co-workers. You giggle. Very nice, very nice. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Does my kind gesture get me a kiss?”

“We’ll see,” you mumble, looking away before he spots your pink cheeks.

He sighs dramatically. “Do you really think it’s for the best if you drink this crap again? Do you remember the last time you had a sip?”

“I’ll go easy. This shit is good.” Throwing your head back, you gulp down the sweet alcoholic drink, eyes squeezing tightly before you huff. “Exactly. Try some.” The brunette does, but steady, a careful eye always lingering onto you. You don’t get drunk this time—rather tipsy. You tell yourself it's because you don’t want to wake up with a killer headache tomorrow, but you know that’s far from the truth. It’s simple. You just didn’t want to forget the last moments you had with him.

His adoration would only last so long.

Clicking your phone open, you clumsily had it over to him. Record me. He huffs, but amusement colors his orbs. “Here we go again…” You snicker playfully, marching over to the lady at the piano. You’re back, she pronounces.

“I am.” You laugh. “Do you happen to play guitar?”

She shakes her head sadly before lighting up. “But Nico does. Nico!” she screams as the man rushes over. “You play song for pretty girl standing right here?” Volentieri, he chirps, looking for his rusty instrument. After a bit of discussion, you twirl back, walking to the center stage.

“I can still recall, our last summer. I still see it all.” Charles laughs, throwing his head back like a little kid as he reminds himself to keep your phone steady. “Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain. Our last summer, memories that remain.”

The guitar is a lone act, but fills up the room as if there were a band. Occasionally, the keys of the broken piano fill the room as you smile gently. From the way you dance to the way you smile, Charles lives for every moment, taking in your happiness.

You should have seen the foreshadowing. The song. The plates that crashed during dinner. The stare. It was all laying right out in front of you, and you stupidly chose to ignore it until it was too late.

“Our last summer, walking hand in hand…” You trail off the moment his eyes turn dark, furrowing to the screen then back to you, as if trying to come up with a possible explanation. He stands up abruptly, chair squeaking so loud that everyone’s heads turn to look. “No,” you whisper in disbelief when he walks out, leaving you like an open love letter.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Flying down the stairs, you trip a couple of times, concerned glances shared between Nico and the older lady. None of it matters as you run after Charles.

Anger must give you wings because he’s long gone when you reach the open air. Dirt crunches underneath your heels as you desperately try to catch a sign that he’s around. When he’s not, you instantly call a cab, rudely directing him to your shared Airbnb.

He loves you; he's sure of it the moment you tuck a strand of hair behind your jeweled ear, slightly hesitant as you try to refresh Nico’s mind over what song you wanted. He even practices a few strings before winking over at you.

He knows it the moment you reach a certain note that makes your voice crack, smiling shyly, giggling through your singing.

And you loved him all too late.

Draft is perfect. Green light, publish it. We can talk about your promotion when you get back. Congratulations. Hard work really does pay off.

He recognizes the name as soon as it blares across your screen, still recording you, spinning across the stage without a care in the world. He feels inanely invasive when he clicks on the email, but pushes the feeling away with the fact that this appeared to be good news, and was there really any harm to that?

Charles Leclerc: The Man Behind the Helmet.

He reads through, spotting your name swiftly.

Sat down with him…

High on the beach—a desperate tactic to release some much needed stress during the off season…

Golden pin, prancing horse. Gifted from the late, Hervé Leclerc…

Fearful of what’s to come once Hamilton enters the picture later in 2025…

He’s skimming but it’s enough for him to wonder if he’s experiencing true headache right now. Your voice cuts off, turning pale as you blink back at him. Fury enters his veins as he storms out, not caring about what you must think. He hears you chasing after him, but manages to climb into the first cab he sees.

What he hates the most is that he still feels like a complete idiot for leaving you behind. For marching out without a single word.

For being so stupid.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire @alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar

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breaddwoo · 1 year

Text

-Smitten (pt 2)-

pairing: wednesday x vamp! reader

word count: 3.22k

warnings: slight nsfw, blood

desc: part 2 of bloody kisses. oh how the tables have turned :)

a/n: i love her so so much ughhggh and idk what to write for my next fic T_T

edit: to save myself from writers block, requests are open if anyone has any! :))

an alarm rung throughout the room. you turned, trying to escape the sound.

instead, you found yourself spooning something, or someone. your groggy eyes tried to focus on the figure laying on the other side of the bed.

braided hair, black pajamas and pale skin. the intruder in your bed was wednesday.

oh fuck, she's still here?

your mind tried to recount what happened the night before; why did little miss emotionless spend the night with you?

then, like a ship protruding from the mist of a foggy harbor, you remembered: the bite. holding her, feeling up her cold skin. and the intense make-out session that lasted for literal hours. the memory made you cover your face in embarrassment, more so from your own pride than anyone else in the room.

you lifted yourself slightly to grab your phone. it lay on the side table next to wednesday. with the weight of your elbow dipping the sheets next to her, her sleeping form tilted towards you.

trying the tactic of carefully reaching over wednesday was fruitless; her eyelids fluttered open to you hovering over her.

wednesday's brows furrowed a bit, taking in the scene above her. your t-shirt from the night before was gone; one strap of your bra hung loosely at your arm. you still wore your fuzzy pajama pants, but that didn't make you look any less lewd; especially with your hair a mess and dried blood looking like smeared lipstick on your lips.

"shit- sorry!" you yelped, practically tumbling to your side of the bed.

you grabbed a nearby blanket and used it to cover your face, afraid she'd see the blush tainting your pale skin.

"what were you doing?" she questioned with a shaky morning voice. it was honestly adorable.

through the plush throw, she heard a small, "trying to check the time."

then, she noticed. around this time of year, class starts at the break of dawn. through the window, muted sunlight cast a spotlight in the middle of the bed.

slowly, she turned to the phone on the side table a few inches from her. picking it up, the electric device confirmed her fears.

"... it's ten past eight."

"fuck," you cursed to yourself, throwing off the blanket and climbing toward the edge of the bed. the devil was hard at work today as the sheets caught on your ankle; trying to save yourself, you grabbed onto wednesday's thin arm as an anchor.

unfortunately, she wasn't expecting the added weight. you both crashed to the hardwood floor, a loud thump following the collapse of sheets and pillows.

wednesday propped herself up, noticing that her fall was cushioned by your body. white bed linen covered the spectle, though she could still see you under the thin fabric.

you looked up at her, adrenaline keeping your eyes wide open. she was poised above you with the sheet hung over her messy bed head. the entire world that surrounded you was white, wednesday's hair and pajamas a dark contrast to the colorless dimension.

then, you laughed. big, hearty laughs that made tears prick at the corners of your eyes. wednesday was bemused, unable to understand the joyous action despite the trouble they would soon be in.

"s-sorry," you said through the laughter, "it's just- we really are screwed aren't we?"

wednesday didn't quite grasp what was funny about this situation. regardless of her confusion, she still couldn't help but soften the tension in her expression at the sight of such a pure reaction.

sitting up, you removed the sheet from her head. wednesday sat with her knees on either side of your legs. you smiled at her, a sense of content corroding your heart.

the smile made wednesday feel weird. an uncomfortable thought circulated in her head:

why can't i stop staring at her?

you stood, offering the brooding girl your hand.

"hurry to your dorm, we can't arrive at the same time or people will notice," you said, ushering her towards the door and unlocking it. wednesday walked out into the hallway, heading toward ophelia hall.

before she made it to the end of yours, you stuck your head out of the open door and said, "see you later!" then clicked it shut.

she stood there for a moment, looking at the place you'd just been.

she slapped a hand onto her mouth as a smile dared to creep up to her lips; the word 'later' definitely made that sentence an unspecified invitation.

all these mystifying thoughts put her in a bad mood as she walked towards her dorm and the scolding she'd soon receive from principal weems.

> > >

when wednesday made it to her first class, it was already fourth period. it was actually a period she shared with you; she might as well not have, though, as you sat on the opposite side of the room.

dozens of eyes were trained on her as she opened the classroom door.

she scanned the students, looking for one in particular. finding you in the far right corner, she noticed that xavier was your seat partner. she'd never seen him sit with you before.

why would he randomly sit with you now?

"... ednesday."

the voice of her fourth period teacher faded into a discernible sound as she was pulled from her thoughts. she moved her eyes to the, now fuming, educator.

"are you awake or are you just sleep walking, miss addams?" she mocked, shaking her head.

wednesday said nothing. a couple students chuckled as the teacher continued to berate her for her tardiness.

you stood out of you chair to protest, "she was helping me study last night, it's not her fault."

the teacher snapped her neck towards you, pointing a jeering finger in your direction.

"don't try to defend her miss (l/n), especially when you're only a few minutes earlier than she is."

you wanted to say more, but you puffed your cheeks in frustration and slumped into your seat. wednesday was surprised, not expecting you to hint to the class that you shared a relationship deeper than classmate acquaintances.

as she headed to her desk with silent steps, she didn't miss the hand that xavier placed on your back. he leaned towards your ear and whispered something, causing you to giggle.

and this continued. throughout the entire lecture. xavier would whisper something and you'd laugh. he'd write something in his sketchbook and you'd smile in response.

wednesday had never experienced a class period with such an uncomfortable prickling in her stomach. every time xavier interacted with you, she wanted to reenact a guillotine execution with xavier as the beheaded.

she was used to being in a sour mood. this was very different. bouncing her leg, she continued to stare daggards towards your desk. even without an artistic ability, she sketched out the execution, fully intending on handing the artwork to the boy who occupied your attention.

the ring of the dismissing bell was like music to her steaming ears.

before she could walk up to you, xavier seemed to have swept you off into the hall of bustling students. murderous intent emitted around her as she stomped after you.

waving xavier off to his next class, you turn to see wednesday with a scowl tarnishing her pretty face. a look of concern graced your features.

"uh, you okay wednesday?" your question came off awkwardly, unsure if she'd even respond.

her stare was intense as she asked, "since when were you and xavier best friends?"

the question threw you off guard. why would she care?

"we've always been friends, sort of. he just came up to me today and asked to sit in the vacant seat, so why not?" you replied.

wednesday's frown had basically turned her into a ball of negative energy, more than usual. most of the students has already entered their classes and the hallway was abandoned.

she took this opportunity to grab the tie of your uniform and pull your face close to hers. it wasn't a harsh movement, but definitely bold.

"come to my room tonight," she ordered, her usually dreary tone dripping with jealousy that you couldn't identify.

you shook your head, "what about enid?"

without a second to spare, she replied, "I'll make sure she's somewhere else. meet me at midnight."

with that, she released you and headed toward her next class. you were in a daze, unsure of how to feel. then the bell rang, and you practically ran a marathon as you sprinted to class.

> > >

these shenanigans continued over the next couple of weeks.

whether it would be in your room (which she now learned you shared with yoko), wednesday's dorm or the greenhouse full of carnivorous plants, each space was used as a haven for your private affair.

since drinking this much blood would leave wednesday in critical condition, you now mostly pierced her skin and nothing more. she didn't mind; the act itself was enough to leave her mind soaring.

what she did mind, though, was how much closer you were with xavier outside of these performances. she almost felt like a fuck buddy hidden from a relationship, without the actual sex. it's not like you shared physical contact with xavier like you did with wednesday, but she envied that you could show him off like a trophy and not her.

of course, you knew none of this. during the sessions, she would say close to nothing; maybe comment on the makeup you wore that day or how the investigation on the hyde was going.

neither of you spoke about the make-out session from weeks prior; it was an unspoken flaw in your complicated friendship.

all of this came to a head the night that wednesday caught you in the courtyard crying, with xavier as your savior.

she hid behind one of the pillars, eaves dropping despite thing motioning her to leave. she slapped him away, trying to listen.

sniffles made up a great deal of what she heard. then, she finally heard you say in a shaky voice, "i don't know what to do. my feelings won't change."

she made out the sound of shuffling -maybe a hug- and xavier's comforting words, "i know, it's okay. i'll help you understand them and i'll be here when you need me."

wednesday's veins were boiling rivers. all this time, despite her fighting against it, she knew she was falling for you. the way you carefully held her; the way you always cleaned up the wounds left behind by your fangs.

each were acts of kindness that melted wednesday's frozen heart. as she listened, she felt frosty walls cage her emotions once more.

thing tapped her shoulder again, silently begging her to leave. this time she didn't smack him away. this time she listened.

> > >

with the pun fully intended, your meet up days were usually wednesdays.

tonight was scheduled at the greenhouse. you prepared early, wanting to surprise wednesday. your good health was all thanks to her and you wanted to repay what she had done for you.

the room full of deadly plants looked like a halloween party. although it was getting close to christmas, orange and purple lights hung around the arboretum, illuminating the space with vibrant colors.

you bought a couple of those creepy taxidermied animals from the hippie shop in jericho, hoping to give them to wednesday as gifts.

as you looked at the space in excitement, wednesday marched to the glass house with the intent to break off everything your relationship had been built on.

you could hear the crunching of her heavy boots outside. giggling, you turned the lights off and hid behind one of the many rows of plants. when the mossy door swung open, you flicked the light switch on.

wednesday's coal colored irises reflected the bright hues as she took everything in at once. the gifts wrapped in black cellophane, the small pillow fort set up in the corner, your smiling face.

she didn't understand. you were with xavier. there's no reason for you to do nice things like this. the confusion angered her further and she looked at you with burning eyes.

"no more, (y/n)."

your happy expression fell off your face as you processed her sharp words. confusion replaced it.

"wha- huh? wednesday, what do you mean?" you asked, walked over to her.

she stood her ground, knuckles turning white as she gripped the sides of her trench coat, "i don't want to do this anymore. there's no point when you have a companion like xavier. you no longer need me," her words came out like a rehearsed speech.

the many questions written on your face disappeared with understanding.

"you think xavier and i are together?" you questioned, quirking a brow.

wednesday's knitted together in return, "he's always with you. how could i not?"

you placed both hands over your mouth, trying not to burst out laughing. she really was too cute.

"are you..." your voice wavered, restraining a giggle, "are you jealous?"

she straitened a little at the accusation.

"of course not."

your fangs flashed with a huge smile as you took her in your arms, practically crushing her, "you totally are! you're jealous!"

she shook her head vehemently, squirming from the hug. you refused to let her go. though wednesday was stiff in the embrace, she couldn't help but fight against the urge to hug you back.

slowly, she stopped wriggling. your smile fadded a bit, but you didn't stop holding her.

"i'm sorry," you said quietly.

"what for?"

you sighed, "you've done so much for me and all i've done is hide away you and our- uh, relationship?"

you pulled away from wednesday, holding her by the shoulders as you looked into her eyes that swirled with uncertainty.

"what- what are we?" you ask.

she opened her mouth, eyes looking to the ground. nothing came out.

"i don't know."

"wednesday, we kissed. you kissed me. i know we've been avoiding this, but- you know what, why don't i just tell you why i've been spending so much time with xavier."

now you had wednesday's full attention. sitting on the floor, your hand wandered to hers. she allowed you to intertwine your fingers; her cold skin a welcome sensation against your own.

taking a deep breath, you began:

"the day we were late for class, xavier's seat had been taken as he was late as well. when he sat next to me, he noticed blood on the side of my mouth. he notified me, but i was horrified. my mind went many places. for some reason, i thought he'd figured me out. even if it wasn't you that he thought i'd done it with.

so, i slipped him a note that said i wanted to talk to him. he'd always been someone i was friends with. just not close, y'know? so, since there was no pressure if he judged me for my actions, i told him everything after school.

i think he knew i was nervous. that's why he kept trying to make me laugh. it definitely helped, even though i still felt like i was going to puke. that's probably why i avoided your gaze the whole period, i felt guilty."

wednesday leaned in a bit, tilting her head, "what reason would you have to be guilty?"

you tried to smile, but it looked to awkward to be natural.

"because.. because i came out to him. i've never told anyone that i'm gay. honestly, i don't know if im bi or lesbian or whatever. i just knew- well, i knew that after that night, i liked you. so, i told him and it ended in a strong bond and maybe some overprotectiveness on his part. i'm really sorry for avoiding you so much, and treating you like this, " you finished, your features sullen as you picked at a weed growing through the crack of a floor tile.

wednesday had no idea what to say. she wanted to keep being angry and to leave so she'd no longer continue to feel such complicated feelings; instead, she knotted your fingers together in a tighter connection.

"i- i don't understand myself. i tell myself i want to leave, but deep down, that's not what i actually want. it seems i want- no, i need you. it makes me yearn for the electric chair in my bedroom back home," she stated, a rare tint of affection bleaching her words.

she liked the smile that rose to your face as she spoke.

with everything out in the open, wednesday decided it was finally time to be truthful with herself and what she desired.

"let's do it again," she said, moving to her hands and knees as she crawled over to you.

"this time," her words practically slurred, "i'm going to be taking a bite out of you."

she placed a hand on your chest, pushing you carefully to the ground. her body creeped over your own, black braids brushing your eyelids.

"what do you mean-" you tried to ask, but she leaned down and kissed you to end the query.

the neckline of your oversized t-shirt was big enough to stretch to the side, exposing your own neck to her. you wanted to say something, anything; but you were too dazed from the small peck she left on your lips.

she leaned down, breath fanning over your ear as she whispered, "this may hurt a little."

a line of saliva began at your ear lobe to the base of your neck, connecting to your collarbone. you whimpered a little, unable to see the smirk that curled at the edge of wesnesday's mouth.

she loved the control she had over your body; this was a new form of torture that she was unacquainted with but adored all the same.

wednesday wanted to see your neck with a matching bite mark. she knew xavier was innocent in this, but she still wanted him to know that you were hers. normally this would irk her. for now, it excited her beyond words.

her teeth nipped at your nude skin. whenever you would sigh with want, her teeth would bite down a little harder. the noises you made tested her restraint.

you now understood why wednesday loved the way you tainted her; cloud nine wasn't even close to how you felt. every part of you was aching for her.

looking at the hickey she had made, wednesday admired her work. seeing you come completely undone under her touch put all her feelings into perspective; she wanted you and only you.

your hands cupped the sides of her face, guiding her lips to connect with your own. the kiss was wet and loud, even wednesday releasing quiet moans.

hands tangled through hair and fangs mixed blood with teenage lust. your legs circled her waist while she hovered over you in full control.

retreating from the kiss, wednesday's eyes matched yours with a similar glaze. she wanted to rip off your shirt and ravish you, never having felt sexual desire before.

her fingers tugged at the hem of your pajama pants. she pulled them off with your assistance. you felt embarrassed by the nude skin exposed to the frigid night air.

her long lashes tickled the insides of your thighs, sending waves to your core.

"i love you," you breathed out.

wednesday looked up from between your thighs, something sexy and sinister in her eyes;

"i'm quite smitten with you as well."

her head dipped down once more.

#wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday imagine #wednesday oneshot #wednesday addams oneshot #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday/you #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #xavier thorpe

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

La Petite Mort - Vouloir, C'est Pouvoir

Summary: R deals with RJ, Lorraine gets jealous

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language, tiniest little bit of blood and physical violence

A/N: Turns out jet lag is cool because you can wake up at 4AM and start writing again. The headcanons from yesterday helped me break through the writers block, thank you guys!! Let me know what you guys want to see next!

LPM Part I LPM Part II LPM Part III LPM Part IV LPM Part VI

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.

The words rattle around in your skull, bouncing haphazardly in the blank space. For a brief, blissful moment, nothing else exists but you and Lorraine. She’s there, right in front of you, in your arms. Her big doe eyes pleading with you, don’t go.

Like many perfect things, your flawless moment is brief and shattered by reality. The hum in your ears begins to fade as voices are raised around you. Your tunnel vision widens, expanding the scope past Lorraine’s freckled nose. Everything seems to be happening in a vacuum, sluggish and unreal. You feel like you’re just an observer of the universe, not meant to interact with its characters.

You look at RJ over the top of Lorraine’s head, his expression furious. You grant him that; you’d be angry if you were him too. The van door behind him is open, the film crew all watching with bated breath, wide smiles on Maxine and Bobby-Lynne’s faces. Maxine shoots you an enthusiastic double thumbs up, making you huff out a laugh despite the situation.

Lorraine wraps her fingers into the hem of your shirt, pulling herself tightly to you, completely disregarding everyone else. You know you’re not going to leave with her wrapped around you, and she does too. RJ shakes his head, his mouth open in silent shock. He throws his hands up, his expression pained.

“What are you doing, Raine?” He asks, pacing, “What is going on right now?”

You don’t speak, only observe. Lorraine squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself against your chest. She’s not ready to deal with him, but she needs to be. You rub her back, trying to comfort her. RJ continues to pace.

“You owe me an explanation, Lorraine! You owe me!”

You disagree with his approach; his tone is far too harsh. But you do agree with what he says. She does owe him an explanation. You crane your neck to see her face against your shirt, dip your head down to whisper to her.

“He’s not wrong. It’s the decent thing to do.”

She nods, her cheek rubbing against your sternum. The interaction sends RJ from confused irritation to absolute outrage.

“Two years, Lorraine! Two years and this is what I get in return? You’re running behind my back, sneaking around and with her?”

That gets her attention; yours already snapped onto him. His face is red, sweat beading on his forehead, his hands shaking. If ever this man can be dangerous, you know it’s right now. There is very little more unstable than an embarrassed man. You eye him warily, unsure of his next move.

Lorraine turns to him, her gaze lowered to his feet, her back only inches from you. She wrings her fingers, and you can’t see it, but you know her lip is being chewed to high hell.

“I…I don’t know how…to explain-“ she starts, “it just happened, and then you came back, and I had a lot to figure out- “

“A lot to figure out?!” He shouts over her, advancing on her but stopping a few feet short, “How is there anything to figure out? You’re supposed to be a sweet girl Lorraine. That’s what I loved about you. But you’re not a sweet girl, are you? You’re just…you’re just a whore!”

His words make you tremble with anger. You understand his plight, can have empathy for the man. But you would not stand for him insulting her. You take a step forward, silently setting a boundary. His lip curls at you, his eyes wild.

“I’m not…I’m not a whore,” Lorraine says, her voice soft and shaking, “I love her.”

RJ looks like he’s had the wind knocked right out of him. His breath comes out in a whoosh as her words snap into the morning air. The audience in the van is dead quiet, jaws dropped open.

“I-I love you, Rainey. I do. It’s you and me.” He says, reaching out to her, his tone changing completely.

She steps back and leans into you shaking her head, “What’s my favorite flavor of ice cream, RJ?”

Everyone is shaken, Lorraine is standing up to him. Your chest swells with pride, watching her go from cowering to straightening her spine. Her frantic eyes more sure now, watching him. You brush your fingers against her wrist, reassuring her that you’re there.

RJ shakes his head, “What-what kind of question is that?”

Lorraine tilts her head, “An easy one, I think, for someone who’s in love with me.”

Her expression is pained; she takes no pleasure in this. When RJ answers her with “Chocolate chip,” she closes her eyes and nods.

“It’s strawberry,” you say from behind her and snap your jaw shut. You hadn’t meant to interject, but it was an unconscious reaction.

You take note of the fact that RJ’s entire body goes rigid. His fists curl at his sides, his jaw flexing. You know he’s going to do something stupid in his desperation. He takes a step toward Lorraine, and you feel yourself winding up, every muscle tense and ready to spring into action.

Wayne climbs out of the van and circles around, his hands out in front of him. He wants to diffuse the situation, but you can see in the way RJ’s lip twitches that it hasn’t worked. The moment is a ticking bomb, every second passing by filled with nervous tension. Your heartbeat is slow, steady. Your eyes trained on RJ, tracking his every movement.

Lorraine steps toward him, her brows furrowed, her worry for him growing. He calms slightly, the muscle in his jaw relaxing and his fists unclenching. His eyes grow wide, his mouth downturned. He looks like a child, you think. It almost makes you feel bad for him. Almost.

“It’s time for you to go, RJ. I’m sorry it turned out this way.” Lorraine says softly, reaching her hand out to comfort him.

His fingers wrap around her bicep, and the wild look in his eyes is back. He pulls her into his body, her hands pressing against his chest. She struggles back, but his arms around her keep her pinned there. The whole thing lasts less than a second.

Before RJ can even speak to justify himself, your knuckles are connecting with his cheekbone. A satisfying crunch pops around the bones in your hand, his glasses fly off his face. Lorraine stumbles backward, free of his grasp, as he crumbles to the ground. His shoulder hits the dirt, and his hands fly up to his face, crying out and inspecting the damage. His nose is bleeding, and a red and purple bruise is already forming above his cheek.

“Woah, now!” Wayne cries out as you step over RJ.

He takes a step toward you but is halted by your look. The girls in the van twitter like birds at the commotion, but neither of them protests. Jackson sits quietly, waiting to see the outcome. You’re not sure where Lorraine is, somewhere behind you.

You grab the collar of RJ’s shirt and pull him up to your face. With your free hand, you dust his shoulders off, and you give him an apologetic half-smile. You’re not sorry for punching him. You’re not sorry for what you’ve done with Lorraine. But you are sorry that someone has to be hurt in this situation.

“You don’t love her, man.” You say, your voice low, your faces inches from each other.

RJ deflates, his weight hanging in your hand, “I…I…” he sighs, squinting at you, “I wanted to.”

You see Maxine move out of the van and approach you from the side, RJ’s collar still secure in your grip. She squats down and hands over his glasses, which you take and wipe on your shirt. You let go of him, but you remain in his space, Maxine hovering just outside of it. You place the glasses back on his face.

“She deserves to be loved, not just wanted,” you say, searching his face for a reaction.

Maxine whistles, low and long, “Now there’s some cowboy wisdom. I see why she loves you, handsome. You’re a regular Casanova, ain’t ya?”

RJ turns to look at Maxine, still shell-shocked. You stand and reach your hand down for him to grasp. He hesitates but takes the offer, and you pull him to his feet. His nose gushes with blood, making you wince.

“You’re gonna want somethin for that,” you say, gesturing at the blood geyser on his face.

Bobby-Lynne sidles up to him, a tampon in her hands. She fusses over him, shoving the cotton up his nose while he whines. She pulls him back toward the van, he follows with unsure backward steps, shaking his head. His eyes lock on to something over your shoulder, and you know it must be Lorraine. You turn to watch her, surprised to find the stubborn set in her jaw, her arms crossed over her chest, her brown eyes cold.

You had only seen that look on her face twice in your lifetime. Once when Mr. Day had to put down a sick cow, Lorraine absolutely insisted she be there. Her father had denied her, and the next day she was in the barn, arms crossed and refusing to leave the cow’s side. The second time you were teenagers, and you were slowly drifting apart. Your parent's divorce sent you down a path of alcohol, drugs, and sex at a young age. Lorraine climbed into your bedroom window one night and would not leave until you explained to her why you were pushing her away. She never left your side, and you never pushed her away again.

And now, as she watches her boyfriend… ex-boyfriend get pulled into the van, she wears that same look. You turn back to the van, watch as the crew piles in. Maxine rolls down her window and winks at you.

As Wayne puts it in gear and begins to roll away, she leans out and yells, “You treat her right, church mouse! Or I’ll come back for her!” She blows a kiss and laughs as the car kicks up dust and rolls down the driveway.

You put your hands on your hips and laugh, shaking your head. When you turn back to Lorraine, her eyes are narrowed at you.

“What?” You yelp, your smile washing away from your face.

“That’s not funny,” she growls.

You smirk, “I mean, it’s a little funny, Rai-“

Your words are swallowed whole, Lorraine’s lips crashing into yours, her teeth knocking against yours in her haste. She pulls you back and leans against the trailer with her hands wrapped in the front of your shirt. She's possessive, her mouth hot against your lips, her hands pulling at you. You fall into her, let her expend her pent-up anxiety with soft sighs through her nose.

When she calms, you push back, creating enough space to look down at her. There is worry in her eyes, set in the lines between her brows.

“You’re not leavin',” she whispers, her hands still tight on your shirt.

You wrap your fingers around hers, “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

The relief that washes over her is intense, her grip loosening and her shoulders dropping. She leans her head back against the metal wall of the trailer and exhales, her hands shaking. You feel your tension wash away; all you want to do is comfort her in that moment.

You kiss her cheek, lean back and smile softly, “Go back a bag.”

She frowns again, “A bag?”

You nod, “I’m already packed up. Let’s get away for a bit. Somewhere we can talk and sort this out.”

She blinks slowly at you, mulling it over, then nods. You step back, and she releases her hold on your shirt, her eyes searching your face.

“If you leave while I’m in the house, so help me-“

You laugh, “I’m not gonna leave you here, Rainey. I’ll get Pearl and load her up. Go pack a bag.”

——

The drive to Big Bend National Park is probably further than necessary, but 8 hours in the truck with Lorraine seems like the sensible thing to do. Your heart sings at the sight of her in your passenger seat, your bags in the truck bed, horses in the trailer. It feels like living out a dream.

You glance over at her, absorbing as much of the vision as you can. Her feet up on the dashboard, wind whipping in her hair, the radio softly playing your favorite Queen song. You turn your eyes back to the road, tapping at the steering wheel, watching the desert and tumbleweeds roll by.

Around hour four, Lorraine gets restless. She fiddles with the radio, hand surfs the wind out her window, runs her hand up your thigh.

“Let’s stop in Sonora, I’m tired of bein in the truck. And the horses need to get out.”

You glance over at her, apprehensive, “They don’t need to get out, and you know it. We’re halfway there; we can set up camp by midnight.”

She shakes her head, “It’s late, I want to sleep in a bed.”

You chew your lip, torn between wanting to give her what she wants and pushing on until you get where you’re going.

“Hotels round here ain’t exactly welcoming to two women in one room Raine.”

She shrugs, “We’ll get two rooms then.”

You sigh, rub your eyes. The setting sun is making you sleepy, and it has been a long day. You relent with no further pushing from Lorraine. You pull off the highway exit into the small town, and find the closest motel.

The parking lot is nearly empty, a broken down Honda on cinder blocks rests near the front office, and a handful of trucks are parked outside sporadically spaced. You pull in sideways, taking up several empty parking stalls.

“Stay here, I’ll get our rooms,” you grumble, and Lorraine nods sleepily.

The reception desk is vacant when you stroll inside, the dark wood walls and pictures of buffalo making the space feel long abandoned. The only sign of life is the quiet tinkling of a radio playing an old country song. You slap the bell on the counter and wait for a response. A few minutes go by, and none comes, so you hit it again.

You can hear shuffling from a back room, a smoky cough, and then a short old woman titters up to the desk, her hair and makeup bearing a striking resemblance to Dolly Parton. She clears her throat and stares at you, not speaking.

You blink at her, waiting for her to speak, but she continues to stare.

“Howdy,” you say, unsure, “You got two rooms available?”

She narrows her eyes at you, and speaks in a growling smoker's voice, “You dealin drugs?”

You jerk back, surprised, “Uh, no, ma’am. My friend and I are on a trip to Big Bend.”

She cranes her neck to see out the window, eyeing your trailer, “No cartel business at my hotel.”

You put your hands up, “No, ma’am I’m not involved in that. Just a ranch hand, takin a break is all.”

Her expression softens as she accepts your answer. She slides two keys over to you and takes your money.

“Check out is 9 AM. No smoking in the room.”

You eye the burning cigarette in an ashtray behind her and raise your eyebrow at her. Not wanting to push your luck, you nod and sweep the keys off the counter. You tip your hat and back out the door.

Lorraine is asleep in the passenger seat when you round the truck. You open the door and rouse her gently, unlock her bedroom door, and guide her to bed. With her safely tucked in, you leave the keys on her bedside table and head back out to lock the horse trailer.

When you finally settle into your bed, the exhaustion of the day presses into you. The water stains on the ceiling and the faint smell of cigarette smoke don’t deter you from crashing into a deep sleep.

——

Maxine’s laughter fills your mind, her high-pitched voice wrapping around your throat and suffocating you. RJ begins to laugh and then cries somewhere in the distance. The Days pass through your line of sight, waltzing over the dirt, kicking up dust in their wake. CB snorts and stomps next to you. Everything moves in a choppy, jumpy way. People appear and dissolve in your vision, and then Lorraine snaps into view. Everything else fades away, and suddenly you’re sitting on the hay bales in the barn, she’s in your lap, and she’s kissing your neck. Your heart races, and a jolt of electricity shoots through you. You’re not surprised to find yourself in your underwear and then suddenly naked.

It occurs to you that you’re dreaming, but the thought is fleeting. Lorraine slides down your body and settles herself between your legs, her hands on your knees. Your chest heaving, your eyes wide, you run your fingers through her thick hair. When her mouth finds your center, you gasp.

You shoot up in your bed, the water stain above your head swimming into view. Your sleep-heavy brain takes a minute to register the hands on your hips and the lips pressing into your leg. The chain on your door is locked; nothing makes sense. You feel a tongue press between your legs, and you gasp again, throwing the blankets back.

You blink hard, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them, disbelief flooding you. Lorraine fucking Day, snuck into your room, slid under your blankets, stripped you down, and woke you up with her mouth doing unholy things to your body. You push her hair away from her face, sighing at the feeling of her tongue on you.

Your voice is breathy, low, “Baby, what-“

She sucks your clit between her lips and pushes her hand against your stomach. You drop back into the pillow, deciding to just let the moment be what it is. You’ll gather your senses later. Right now, you’re enjoying what she’s doing to you. Briefly, you wonder how she’s so good at this. You let the thought slip through your mind like sugar in a sieve.

Her hand slides up your ribs, her thumb caressing your skin as she squeezes your side. Quiet, indulgent moans leave your throat as she runs her tongue through you, building you up. She hums into you, and it sends you into overdrive. Your hips tilt up gently, seeking more contact with her mouth. She continues, consistent and steady, sucking and licking until you’re rocked by your orgasm. Your body shudders under her, your legs squeezing her head. You fall limp around her, and she presses a last kiss to the inside of your knee.

She crawls up your body, and you can see now she’s bare, naked as the day she came. She sits on your hips, hot against your skin, and leans down to kiss you languidly. Your hands run over her cheeks and back into her hair, anchoring you to her while you come down. She leans back, smiling down at you, and your heart skips a beat.

“Wha-what was that?” You ask, shivering under her.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, her skin illuminated by the strips of silver moonlight creeping in through the blinds, “A reminder.”

You frown, your hands reaching out to hold her hips, “A reminder of what?”

She leans over you, her voice gravelly, “Not to make jokes about running off with Maxine.”

You would laugh if this possessive side of her didn’t turn you on so much. The glint in her eyes makes you feel like you’re made of pure gold, something to be hoarded and guarded aggressively. It’s foreign on her, and it’s delicious. So delicious, you’re practically drooling at the thought of her taste.

You pull her down into a kiss, running your tongue over her lips, your hands abandoning their post in her hair and making their way to her thighs. You want her in every way possible, all at once. You want to consume her, absorb her into yourself, and carry her around with you everywhere.

You settle for slipping two fingers inside of her wet heat, your tongue in her mouth, her chest pressing into yours. It’s the closest you can get to becoming one with her, entangled as far as you can go. She sits up, holding her weight in her legs, and grinds into your fingers, one hand on your chest, the other on her own leg. She doesn’t give you room to move, instead taking what she wants from you, rolling her hips and biting her lip.

You reach up with your free hand and pull her lip from her teeth, running your thumb over it. You don’t think your pupils could expand more than they do when takes your thumb in her mouth, rolls her tongue, and sucks on it, all while riding your other hand. It’s enough to send you into another orgasm.

She releases your thumb with a pop and watches as you shiver under her. Her mouth slightly open, she begins to pant. Your hand goes straight to her nipple, you roll it between your fingers, and that’s what it takes for her. She moans your name out and drops over you, holding herself up with shaking arms. You lift your head and lick at her throat, your eyes rolling back at the vibration when she groans. She tightens around you, gripping your fingers until she cums around them and collapses.

When you pull your hand away, your fingers sticky on her ribs, she’s back to herself. She curls around you, leaves soft kisses on your collarbone and under your jaw. She shivers, presses her face into your neck, and sighs.

“I have half a mind to make you jealous more often if that’s the treatment I’m gonna get,” your voice breaks the silence, a soft chuckle escaping from your chest.

She pinches your side and sits up on her elbow.

“Ouch!” You yelp, trying to squirm away from her.

“That’s not funny,” she says, looking down at you, her hair falling over her shoulder.

You shrug, grinning, “I mean, it’s a little funny.”

She tilts her head, “You make me jealous on purpose, and I’ll just hold out on you next time.”

You gasp, “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

You know, without a doubt she is serious. Not wanting to push your luck, you pull her down and kiss her softly, your thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. She pulls back to lay her head under your chin, her breathing even and slow across your skin. Suddenly you’re grateful for dingy motels and Lorraine’s knack for breaking and entering.

#lpm #lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader

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patricia-taxxon · 3 months

Text

synopsizing the movie that plays in my head every time i listen to nascent by alexander panos

this probably isn't as interesting to read as it is for me to imagine in my own head, but i wanted to write it down. maybe u will have fun imagining it too

1. Q Windswept

This is the intro to the album, you pretty much get every flavor of sound that the album has to offer in one short burst. This is the title sequence & opening credits, where all the nonexistent animators & vfx artists would go. I imagine big bunches of text popping into existence with each impact.

2. Cycles

This track is in a weird spot, it's the longest one & it was made much earlier. It sounds like it's in a different world, so I treat it as an establishing montage of the human world. We're introduced to the protagonist, who I'll call Alex for convenience but doesn't necessarily represent the real life producer behind the music, represented by a live action human actor for the time being. The track feels like writer's block, frustration, pounding on a desk, (the domp domp bit) pacing around the room, moments of existential fear in between the doldrums of solitude, the wubs and crashes are a transformation that is barely being held back. Twilight depression montage.

3. Sutter

Sutter begins the purely synthetic "internal" portion of the record. We enter a liminal/metaphorical space. Alex spasms and transforms into a 2D animated dog furry while floating far above a green field with too much synthetic blue in its hue. Huge wide shots of Alex's body flying backwards with the artificial landscape in the background, hitting with those massive manipulated vocal hits. The track ends with him slowing and coming to a gentle rest on the grass.

4. 36523_red/blue

Alex opens his eyes, sees only the pure "blue screen of death" shade of blue in the sky. Abstract glitches and squiggles zap across the screen in time with the music. Alex is beginning to ruminate, represented by him drawing patterns with his paws in the sky as the track begins to pick up a consistent tempo. The glitches and patterns are played with his fingers, building in intensity until the climax shows a vast mirror that fills the entire sky approaching rapidly, and then slowing, the dog boy in the reflection growing until it comes face to face with the viewer, and then a cut to black.

5. reasonsnotto

Lights are out, audio-reactive abstract animations shudder into being with the synthetic voice, warping and pulsing with the track's modulations. In the moments when Alex's real voice pokes through the synthetic mush, his dog form coalesces, still blurry and struggling to become fully contiguous until the very end, where Alex sings the album's thesis directly to the camera, against a pure black background.

6. Dream Extinction

He breaks the mirror here, the impacts are his fists striking the surface and releasing burning waves of fire and electricity. At the end, the part with the consistent bursts, he begins clawing at his reflection, screaming, seizure inducing flashing lights imply that this hurts him too. As the track calms down, the mirror disintegrates.

7. Equinox (Prelude)

This track begins the portion of the album that is trying to claw itself back into reality. He's not there yet, beyond the mirror Alex finds another liminal space, a primordial river, and as the track builds, more concrete images begin to flash into existence before crumbling again. He can't get out, he doesn't want to get out. He shields his eyes, cut to black.

8. Equinox

This is the bit where Alex says a poem to himself and runs back to reality with all his might. Emphasize the "You flake, you human life" line, he says it with gritted canine teeth and his doggy ears lowered, resolved to claw back to his humanity. After that exalted rush of light and color passes, he opens a door, and slams it behind him.

9. catch it

This track is resurfacing, coming back to reality. The synthetic glitches fall back completely, icons of a city street come into existence, populating the white void in time with those guitar chords. Alex isn't visible yet, but the images are revealed to be the view outside his window. The POV shot looks down, and he sees his human hands again.

10. re:Turning

Ok, this part is so cliched & shmaltzy that it makes me embarrassed to write it out, but there's only one conclusion this story can have. The glitches re-emerge, the synthetic elements that were previously contained come back again. It's his fur. The dog re-emerges, Alex transforms again like a magical girl before opening his front door & singing the final hook, walking through a live action environment with shapes and colors from his liminal space following him. The paradox is resolved. He is multitude.

thanks for reading.

#mini essay #cilantromixture #Alexander Panos

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myballsyourballs · 2 years

Note

Itto x male reader smut modern au reader is what’s considered a quiet kid and ittos that loud extrovert guy who always talks too the quiet kid expect he attualy succeeds in making the quiet kid like him because he’s just that nice one day the reader is stuck in detention with itto cleaning up the auditorium when he randomly said “yknow I bet I could make you loud really quickly, They say it’s always the quiet ones after all” and your just like “huh-“ a few minutes later lots of shits happening I guess he was right he did make him loud part of his reason was cause the reader was kinda cranky at him for getting him in trouble so he tried the last thing that could make you speak too him

quiet kid, huh?

top! itto x bottom! m! reader

warnings/tags: slight dacryphilia, slight overstim, groping, grinding, dry humping, fingering

genre: smut 😏

notes: i love itto with all my heart

also anon you didn't have to request twice, sorry if this took too long i got writers block in the middle of writing it, but i promise if you request i’m going to get to it eventually 😭😭

masterlist | make a request

THE CLOCKED TICKED. Time seemed to pass so slowly in the suffocating air of the auditorium. You were in detention. Cleaning up the large expanse of dark wooden floors and tacky plastic seats.

Currently, you were angry. Itto had so very kindly gotten you into this situation, and he wasn’t helping you get out of it. You were a quiet kid — one that preferred to stay invisible to most. Getting into detention sort of ruined that.

When Itto began to talk to you, breaking your invisible façade, you found yourself enjoying his company. He was kind. Funny, strong, determined and overall just a good person. You supposed you weren’t really surprised when you started to like him.

Now though? God, you were angry. If it wasn’t for Itto, you’d be at home by now, reading something or maybe watching a movie. Something that was far more entertaining than cleaning the auditorium.

“Hey!” Itto yelled suddenly, holding up a small piece of plastic in his hand, “I found a chocolate wrapper!”

You rolled your eyes. You were bored and Itto wasn't helping. The broom you had swept the floor with gentle strokes, any litter or dust gathering around the base of it. You wanted to get out of here as fast as possible and you had barely done any cleaning. You swept faster.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Itto whined, shoulders deflating. You glared at him. “You are!”

He looked offended, a hand on his chest and jaw wide open. You both stared at each other for a minute, before Itto’s features morphed back to normal, and then into an expression that was almost… cocky?

“Y’know,” Itto started, “I bet I could make you loud really quickly.”

You tilted your head towards him, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

“They say it’s always the quiet ones, after all.”

He surged forward, taking large, powerful strides towards you. Lips met yours, unexpectedly soft ones at that. The brief clattering of the broom that you had been holding barely registered in your ears, and your eyes widened. This was not how detention was supposed to go. For a moment, you forgot how to respond. You stood frozen, eyes wide open.

Itto's left hand met your waist, his right travelling up to the back of your neck -- pulling you closer.

Snapping out of your trance, your eyes fluttered closed, Your hands fastened themselves onto Itto’s broad shoulders, ascending until they met his silky hair. Why'd I have to get a crush on this guy of all people? Itto groaned into your mouth, and as if spurred on by you, his movements became more desperate.

A hand slipped up your shirt, quickly traversing up and brushing over a hardened nipple. To catch your breath, you pulled apart from him, letting heaving pants escape your lips. Itto took advantage of his now free mouth, placing hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Letting out a breathy sigh, your fingers knotting into the back of Itto's hair, Itto bit down slightly -- pain radiated on your skin from his unnaturally sharp teeth. Your hands tugged on his hair, and he groaned. "Not the hair, please," he breathily spoke, very clearly not angry. Itto looked at you, bright amber eyes clouded with lust. "Look at you... all flustered..." his irises swam with desire, teeth biting into his cheek. His hand ran up and down your waist, thumb rubbing circles into your smooth skin. After a minute of silence, you spoke again.

"...Who's quiet now?" you murmured, only a whisper.

Itto blinked.

His grip on you tightened, "That's right," he chuckled, the corners of his mouth raising into a small smirk, "I'm making you loud today."

He shoved you, lowering you to the floor quickly but carefully. Disoriented, you looked up at Itto. His lips crashed back onto yours, desperation clear as they parted and his tongue dipped out to swipe at your lip. Your legs spread instinctively.

His hands pressed against the floor on either side of your head. And then his leg moved forward, in-between yours, slowly, until his knee reached the very prominent tent in your pants. You moaned loudly into the kiss, nails scraping against the floor beneath you. You raised your hands to his back, settling over his shoulders and harshly pressing your fingertips into his clothes. Itto's mouth stretched into a smirk as he felt you rutting against his leg. He pulled away.

"Excited, aren't you?” He rested his forehead on yours.

He grinned, grinding his knee harder into you. You brought a hand up to your mouth, muffling your pleasured whimpers into your palm.

"Hey!” Itto snarled, moving a hand from beside your head to harshly grab your hips — likely enough to bruise. “I said I was gonna make you loud, yeah? Don’t cover up your cute little noises…” he whined, giving a soft smile when you lowered your hand.

You whined in embarrassment, and he chuckled. He straightened slightly — now just on his knees — and lifted his shirt over his head swiftly, throwing it to someplace on the floor nearby. Your mouth watered at the sight before you.

Itto, with his massive pecs and taut muscles that rippled underneath his skin whenever he moved. Itto, with his red tattoos that stretched along the expanse of his body. Itto, who was now leaning down to you and shoving his hands back up your shirt.

“I’m taking this off,” Itto murmured, whipping up the hem of your shirt and bringing it over your head and arms. He looked in awe of you, rubbing his hands up and down your sides and then moving his thumbs to brush over your nipples. You flinched.

He moved his hands down slowly, resting on your stomach before stopping at the waistband. “May I?”

Itto smiled when you nodded, and his hand moved down to your bulge. Letting out a very breathy moan, your brows furrowed. Was he…?

He dug the heel of his palm straight into your dick, chuckling when you choked out a moan. Whimpering, you rolled your hips up into his hand and he pulled away. “Don’t want you cumming in your pants. You’re gonna cum with me inside you.”

Itto undid your button and fly, pulling down your pants swiftly and taking them completely off your legs. You shivered at the cool air. Itto’s hand returned to your cock, rubbing you gently through your boxers.

He slid a finger into the waistband, and pulled down quickly. As your embarrassingly hard cock bounced, he breathed out shakily. “You’re so pretty… pretty boy…”

He undid his pants messily, standing up in order to take them off faster. Now that he was just in his boxers, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the clear bulge of his dick held within the tight fabric. Shit, he was massive.

You snapped out of it when you felt a cold liquid spread over your hole. Itto watched your rim flutter around nothing, placing the small bottle of lube to the side. He rubbed his fingertips over your hole, watching as you shuddered. “I want you to prepare yourself.”

“…What?” you mumbled, confused.

“Finger yourself. Prepare yourself for me,” he smiled, easing his hand. His pointy nails glimmered with the sheen of lube on them. “I’ve got sharp nails.”

Embarrassment washed over you, but you obliged nonetheless. As your finger penetrated your hole, your legs shook slightly, closing in on themselves. Itto’s hands roughly grabbed your thighs and shoved them apart, staring at you with interest. You gulped. Continuing, you added another finger, back arching as you scissored them inside your hole. “Faster,” Itto commanded.

You whimpered. Thrusting out your fingers faster and moving your hips to meet them. The wet, squelching sounds resounded into the air of the auditorium. You went even faster, adding a third finger and outwardly moaning at the feeling. Your cock twitched, pre-cum sliding down it tantalisingly.

Itto’s hand grabbed your wrist, pulling it away and holding it above your head. He grabbed your other hand, too, securing it underneath his palm. “Good enough.”

As he took his dick out of boxers one-handed, you blanched. You didn’t think any amount of preparation would be good enough to fit in... that. He grinned at you, lining up the blunt head with your hole. Gently, he pushed the head of his cock inside you, slowly and carefully. You whined at the stretch, hands clenching into fists. “H-Holy fuck…” Itto gasped out shakily, “Ohhh… you feel so good,” he cautiously gyrated his hips, only fucking you with the tip for now.

"Mhnn... ah... can you... ah-- r-release my— haaa…hands?"

Itto looked up at where he held your wrists with his hand. He contemplated for a moment. "Will you be louder?" He stopped moving for a moment.

"Y-Yes, I swear..." you murmured, trying to resist moving your hips down to get some kind of friction against Itto's thick cock.

"Then sure."

He dropped your hands, smiling as you immediately tangled them around his neck. Without warning, Itto bottomed out, slamming his hips forwards and shoving his cock completely into you. He watched in awe as your puffy, stretched rim swallowed his cock, your gummy walls deliciously tight around him.

"AH-- fuck--!" you moaned out, back arching off the floor. Itto began to start thrusting rhythmically, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the empty auditorium.

"L-Louder, come on..." He let out a moan, head tipping back.

"MMm-- h-harder...!" you choked out, tears welling into your eyes as they rolled into the back of your head.

He paused, causing you to sob out a protest. Hands fastened underneath your knees, raising your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Itto bottomed out once again. He slammed into you, gripping onto your hips for dear life and upping his pace.

“Ahn…. fuhhh—ck…!” you sobbed out, legs shaking messily on Itto’s shoulders as his relentless pounding only increased in speed. The curve of his cock brushed over your prostate at every thrust, driving you completely mad with pleasure. A series of ‘ah’s’ spilled out of your mouth and you babbled inaudible words, sobbing over just how good it felt.

“That’s right, pretty boy… moan for me,” Itto pulled out until only his thick, blunt head was resting in your ass, then thrusting forward as deeply as he possible could. Your back arched off of the auditorium floor, a moan that sounded more like a scream escaping your throat. Itto breathed out shakily, “Fuck, you’re so… t-tight around me…”

You clenched harder at his words. Itto’s hips stuttered.

Your neglected cock laid between your bodies, weeping copious amounts of pre-cum onto your heaving stomach. His hand reached over and gave a sharp tug to it — you sobbed, rutting your hips against his hand whilst he rigorously pounded into you. “Please, please please please please..!” you didn’t even know what you were pleading for. Itto seemed to know.

A white-hot pleasure soon enveloped your senses, pulling you to your orgasm. Vaguely, you registered a scream exiting your throat and your back arching off of the floor once more. White, sticky cum coated your chest and Itto’s stomach.

Itto kept fucking you.

“Fuck, fuck! T-That was so… haaa… hot— ahn…” he breathed out shakily, thrusting harder into you.

“I-Itto! I just— a-AH—n… came—”

“I know, pretty boy,” Itto moaned, hair falling forward as he dipped his head. He kissed your cheeks, wiping away the tears, “Just a little— haaa… l—longer—” his hips stuttered again, cock twitching inside of you as he came with a moan of your name. Ropes of cum stained your insides as Itto used your hole through his orgasm, his muscles tending and his eyes rolling back. It was like you were milking him, swallowing up every drop of cum he had. Closing his eyelids, he deflated, panting into your neck.

The two of you rested, Itto’s cock slowly softening inside you. “Hey…” he mumbled, a slight rasp to his voice. “Are you still mad… or should we go for round two…?”

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year

Text

Superstar (Superstar Chapter 1)

I'm no one special, just another wide-eyed girl

Who's desperately in love with you

Give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar

The Reader is thrilled to start a new job at AFC Richmond- especially since it means working with a certain player-turned-coach.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.7k words

Warnings: language (because Roy Kent); I’m a bit rusty so forgive my writing!

A/N: Been having some horribly bad writer’s block in addition to work stress. Thankfully my man Roy Kent helped me finally break through!!!

“Well, there she is!” Coach Ted Lasso waved enthusiastically as I parked my car in the staff lot. Next to him stood Rebecca Welton, who offered the tiniest of waves and something of an apologetic smile.

I took a deep breath, my hand hovering over the driver’s side door. First day on the new job: coach’s assistant. Between three coaches, there was a lot going on; they needed someone to handle communication, schedules, and small tasks so they could focus on training and (hopefully) winning. Having grown up just around the corner from Nelson Road, it felt almost like an honor to be part of the organization.

In a blur, Ted had firmly shaken my hand for what felt like an eternity, yammered off about a dozen Lasso-isms that I wasn’t quite sure I heard correctly, and ushered me into the building, all with Rebecca following along, interjecting short corrections and reassurances every time Ted paused to take a breath.

“And this here’s the locker room,” Ted announced with a small flourish. “Now, the boys tend to be pretty modest, the only one you may see too much of is Jamie, but if you just throw a towel in his face, he’ll take the hint.” He opened the door, gesturing for me to follow.

Rebecca touched my arm gently, that tight smile still on her face. “I should be going. But please, let me know if there’s anything you need. You’re in great hands,” she added, nodding towards Ted. “Welcome to Richmond.” With another touch to my arm, she was gone.

I followed Ted into the changing room. A few guys were milling about, still in their street clothes, chattering and beginning to put their things away. They looked up when I entered, offering small nods of acknowledgement. Ted rattled off their names, all familiar to me. I made mental notes about how each one smiled and shook my hand, trying to take snapshots in my brain so I could describe every moment to my family later that night.

After meeting all the players that Ted called “early birds”, I followed Ted into the coaches’ offices, where I was quickly introduced to Coach Beard, who nodded from behind a tattered copy of Either/Or.

“Now, Coach Beard and I share this office,” Ted was explaining. “You’ll be right through here. Hope ya don’t mind sharing!” He led me through the side door to another office. “I’m sure you know this ray of sunshine here is Roy Kent.”

My stomach jumped to my throat as the man in black track pants and a dark Richmond shirt glanced up from his desk. As if I really needed to be introduced to the man whose poster still hung above the bed in my childhood bedroom. Several kits sporting his name and number hung in my closet. Hell, for one birthday my jokester dad even got me a cardboard cutout of the man. It currently sat folded in the back of a closet in my flat, but it often made an appearance in my living room when I hosted game day parties with my mates.

I was pretty sure if I dug far enough in my parents’ attic, I’d find my school notebooks with “Mrs. Roy Kent” scribbled all over them.

And now he sat in front of me, staring up at me through thick eyelashes that made me go weak in the knees. A half scowl appeared on his face. “You’re the assistant then?” He offered his hand.

I nodded, praying that neither coach could see my body trembling slightly as I reached out to shake Roy Kent’s hand. “I- I am.”

Ohmygod ohmygod I’m shaking Roy Kent’s hand I’m touching Roy Kent Roy Kent spoke to me Roy Kent is looking at me ohmygod ohmygod.

It felt far too soon when he let go of my hand. “Well, as long as you keep your shit off my desk and don’t wear any rancid perfume, we should be fucking fine.” He nodded behind him toward an empty desk. “That’s you.” Without another word, he stood up, grabbed the notebook he had been drawing in, and left.

Ted beamed at me. “Well now, that went great! That’s about as charming as you can expect Roy to be, so count yourself lucky. Now, why don’t you get yourself settled and we’ll see you in the locker room in about ten minutes?”

“D’you like kebabs?”

I turned my head, pausing my fingers above my keyboard. “Excuse me?”

With a giant sigh, Roy swiveled around in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Kebabs. D’you like ’em?”

“Uh, I guess.” I scrunched my nose as I stared at him. After two weeks of working for Richmond, this was the first time Roy had spoken to me so directly. Up until now, it had been mostly grunts and growls in my general direction. But, after years of watching him on the pitch, I knew by the look in his eye that he didn’t hate me- at least, not any more than he hated the rest of the world. And that was fine enough with me.

“You guess?” There was that scowl. “You either fuckin’ like ‘em or you don’t.”

It took all my strength to suppress my grin. God, he was just as gorgeous as when I used to watch him play on the television. “Fine, fine. I like kebabs.”

With a suddenness that almost made me jump in my seat, Roy stood up. “Okay.” Without another word, he walked out of our office.

About twenty minutes later, a Styrofoam container slammed onto my desk. I looked up at Roy, who towered over me, a plastic bag clutched in his fist. He glowered at me.

“Thanks, Roy,” I managed, opening the box. Sure enough, kebabs. I smiled up at him, but his eyes were scanning my desk.

“That your family?” He pointed at a frame that held a photo my family had taken during a camping trip.

“Oh, yeah. My folks and brothers. They live not far from here. We grew up huge Richmond fans.”

His eyes continued to roam my work area. “What, no pictures of your boyfriend? Is he fuckin’ ugly or somethin’?”

My cheeks heated up. “No boyfriend.” Somewhere inside me, boldness surged forward. “What about you? I don’t see your model of the week on your desk.”

He smirked. Ohmygod he smirked. “I’m too fucking old for that shit now.”

“Uh huh.” I couldn’t make myself say anything else. All I could see was that smirk, and those brown eyes. Until I realized he was waiting for me to say something. Speak, you idiot! “I like kebabs,” I blurted. Shit.

The smirk softened slightly. “So I heard.”

For a moment he just stood there, smiling down at me. Then he cleared his throat, glancing at the bag in his hand. “Don’t tell anyone I got you lunch. They’ll be trying to make me some fuckin’ errand boy if they find out.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

With a small hmmf, Roy nodded and headed back to his desk. I smiled down at the container on my desk and returned to my work, ignoring my burning cheeks.

“What does Jamie Tartt smell like?”

“Is the gaffer really like that in person?”

“Did you pass out when you met Roy Kent?”

Swallowing the bite of pasta I had been chewing on, I grinned at my family. “Tartt wears a homemade combo of Tom Ford, Dior, and Juicy Couture that he calls ‘Tartt by Tartt’. Coach Lasso is exactly what he seems. And Roy Kent…” I cleared my throat and prayed my face wasn’t completely red. “He’s fine.” My voice cracked slightly. “We, uh share an office. He got me kebabs for lunch last week.”

“Come off it,” I scoffed. “Or else I’ll take back those VIP tickets I got you for your birthday.”

“Ooh, Roy Kent bought you kebabs?” my dad hummed, grinning at me pointedly. “My future son-in-law, the football superstar.”

Before my dad could retort, the doorbell rang. I jumped up, relieved to have a distraction.

“I’ve got it!” I just about sprinted down the hall to the front door, confident it was our elderly neighbor asking to borrow the spare key, as she did at least once a week. Instead, when I threw the door open, I found Roy Kent on my parents’ front porch.

“We should really put a fucking tracking device on you,” he grumbled as he moved past me into the entryway.

I stared at him, closing the door. “Um, not to be rude, but why are you here? At my mum and dad’s house?”

He shoved a manila envelope into my hands. “Some papers Lasso wanted you to work on if you can this weekend. Said it was important. I dunno, I don’t fucking listen to him when he yammers.”

“Oh.” I placed the envelope on a nearby table and folded my arms. “And how-how did you know where I was?”

Roy wiggled his phone in the air. “You’re one of those idiots that has their Snapchat locations on. You’re gonna get fucking murdered one of these days y’know.”

Right. Ted had made us all join multiple Snapchat groups with him; he was adamant about keeping our streaks.

I couldn’t help but grin. “And you’re gonna murder me?”

“Not today.” A small smirk cracked through that grizzled face. “But apparently if I wanted to, you’d be easy as hell to find.”

“I’ll just have to keep being a good officemate then,” I supposed teasingly. Am I flirting with Roy Kent?!

“You’re doing a fine job so far.” Roy took a step towards me, looking down at me.

Is he flirting back?!

My brain short-circuited. “Um, well I…” I coughed, looking around the entryway, as if I hadn’t walked through it my entire life. “Thanks for uh, bringing those papers.” A question interrupted the high-pitched buzzing in my brain. “Why’d you bring it by the way?”

Roy cleared his throat and took a step back, allowing a respectful space between us again. “Told you, Lasso said it’s important.”

“Yeah…” I started slowly. “But I’m sure it’s something you guys could’ve sent Will to do. Or something Ted would probably love to do, tracking me down to my dad’s birthday dinner. Why are you-?”

“He’s here! He’s there! He’s every-fucking-where! Roy Kent!” Beaming, my dad burst past me and clapped a hand on Roy’s shoulder as Roy stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh hell, Roy Kent’s in my foyer!” He turned and faced me. “I can’t believe you got Roy Kent to come down here! You’re my favorite kid, you can tell your bloody brothers that anytime.” He grabbed Roy’s hand and started pumping it, reminding me of the first time I had met Ted. “It’s an honor to have you here. Absolute honor.”

I finally found my voice. “Dad, Roy’s just here giving me some stuff for work. He’s not here for your-”

“What kind of cake do you have?” Roy’s gruff voice interrupted.

“Chocolate,” my dad answered. “M’wife made it herself. And we have plenty of pasta if you’re hungry.”

Roy unzipped his jacket. “Then happy fucking birthday. Let’s eat.”

A half hour later, I was still in a state of shock. Roy Kent was sitting next to me in my parents’ dining room, chatting with my dad and eating my mum’s pasta. He took all everyone’s questions in stride, not seeming to mind how obsessed my brothers were. He only growled at them twice- once when they asked about his knee, and again when they said how much they like Jamie Tartt. Of course, they made kissy faces whenever Roy wasn’t looking, and my mum kept raising her eyebrows at me with a twinkle in her eye, but the dinner was much less painful that I had expected.

And getting to sit there with Roy’s arm pressed against mine? A dream come true.

My dad cleared his throat as my brothers began clearing the plates. “I think it’s time for presents and cake then?”

I stood up; my arm felt cold after having Roy’s arm keeping it warm. “I’ll be right back, gotta go get your present.” I pressed a kiss on my dad’s head as I passed by. “Don’t embarrass me,” I hissed, giving his shoulder a squeeze. He offered me an assuring wink.

I quickly went up the stairs to my old bedroom, not completely closing the door behind me. Since I was planning to spend all weekend a their house, I had just haphazardly thrown all my things into the room when I had arrived after work. I regretted it now, noting that my idiot brothers could be saying anything to Roy while I searched for the envelope holding my dad’s birthday card and the tickets to Richmond’s next match.

I groaned. “Where the hell-”

“Ah, this isn’t the fucking loo.”

I whirled around. Roy stood in my doorway, eyebrows slightly raised as he glanced around the room. My cheeks burned as I watched him take in all the Richmond posters, which disproportionately featured his bearded face.

He is never going to talk to me again, a panicky voice in my head whimpered.

To my surprise, a small smirk formed on his face as he quietly closed the door behind him. “Why the fuck are there so many pictures of me in this room?” he asked, a chuckle escaping his lips.

I cleared my throat and stood up, straightening out my top as I cursed my teenage self for being so obsessed. “I, uh, I told you. My family’s huge Richmond fans. You’re kind of our favorite player. Hence, my dad’s excitement when he saw you.” I winced. Lame, lame, lame.

“So…” He stuck his hands in his pockets, still looking around the room at the embarrassing number of photos of himself. “Does that mean I’m your favorite too?”

Somehow, my cheeks grew warmer. “I… I mean… I guess.”

His eyes moved upward and widened slightly.

Fuck.

“Is that a fucking poster of me above your bed?”

I shifted my weight, wishing that somehow the carpet beneath me would spontaneously turn into a black hole. “Oh, you know, gotta keep the monsters away somehow.” You’re fired. You are so freaking fired for being a creepy fangirl.

Roy let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s what I’m good for? Scaring away fucking monsters?”

With a groan, I covered my face and collapsed on my bed. “Please don’t tell anyone,” I grumbled. “This was my room when I used to live here, I was a dumb kid. I swear to God, my flat is normal. A normal adult flat.”

The bed squeaked as I felt someone sit beside me. When I peeked out between my fingers, Roy was looking at me with a hint of concern on his face.

“Hey, no need to be fucking embarrassed.” He glanced up at the poster that now laid directly above us. “Can’t say I blame you. I was young and hot.”

Despite my inner anguish, I moved my hands and grinned. “You’re not that much older now, Kent,” I teased.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I’m still hot then?”

Before I could come up with some clever retort, Roy cupped my face and leaned close. “Please say yes,” he said softly.

I gulped, knowing he could definitely feel it. “Yes,” I whispered.

He gently pressed his lips against mine, a soft, small kiss that made me melt closer to him. His beard tickled my face as his hand stroked my cheek. Roy Kent is kissing me Roy Kent is kissing me Roy Kent is kissing me.

When Roy let go, a tiny giggle escaped my lips. He smiled at me- a real smile, the one I had seen maybe a small handful of times on television over the years. He opened his mouth to say something-

“Oi!” A loud knock banged on the door. “Mum and Dad want to know if you’re snogging Roy Kent in there!”

Roy grinned at me, still holding my face. “Don’t suppose I can tell your brother to fuck off?”

I wrinkled my nose. “’d rather you didn’t,” I whispered.

“Well then.” Roy stood up, stretching out his hand to help me to my feet. “Guess we should go have some fucking cake.” He nodded up towards the poster above my bed. “You should bring that thing to work sometime. I can fucking autograph it if you want.”

#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fluff

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ynsvnte · 6 months

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↹ Yang Jungwon - Red eyes ! ☆

↹ pairing: vampire!jungwon x Gn!reader

↹ warnings: swearing, pet names, blood, suggestive (towards the end)

↹ genre: fluff, suggestive

↹ word count: 517

↹ synopsis: jungwon gets thirsty in the middle of the night. His lover yn is asleep he can’t help but want to fed off them. He also can’t seem to hold himself back either.

Masterlist

Late at night, Jungwon lays in bed, eyes wide open—he's a vampire…waiting for his lover to wake up, but that’s until a few more hours. Jungwon, who is starving..normally he doesn’t get these cravings. Luck not being by his side..he’s suffering alone hungry. Jungwon shifts around the bed facing yn..staring at them..

“Should I wake them up?…"Jungwon thought to himself. He continued to look yn before making up his mind..”Fuck it..” Jungwon then starts to shake yn. “Psst…yn'' he says next to their ear…only for yn to flinch in deep sleep…he continues to shake yn until yn finally groans…

“Yes jungwon??” Yn asked with a hoarse voice..

”I’m Hungry….” Jungwon said while pouting before hugging yn…

“Don’t you have more blood packets in the fridge?…” yn asked while rubbing their eyes to see more clearly. “No-“ Jungwon replied. Yn sighs deeply before saying “Do you have any idea what to do?”

“Well yeah actually..that’s why I woke you up” Jungwon said. “What does me being awake have to do with you being hungry..?” Yn questioned.

“Yn…babe..can I—drink some of your blood..?” Jungwon said quickly while with his eyes closed.. not noticing yn reaction. Eyes widened..out of shock. “O-oh..hehe,” yn said awkwardly looking down. “I guess so..?” Yn suggested. Jungwon then looked up at yn before saying. “Really?..”

Yn just nodded..”I trust you enough jungwon..” Jungwon then crawled to yn. Towering over yn. He places a kiss on yn’s lips..he goes down to yn’s neck, looking up at yn with his doe eyes. Yn stares back at Jungwon, lost in his eyes, forgetting what he’s about to do in the next second. “You sure..?” Jungwon breaks the silence.

“I’m sure..” that’s enough for jungwon to sink his teeth on yn’s soft skin.. “hmmm..” is all that comes out of Jungwon's mouth, loving the why the blood tastes on his tongue..on the other hand yn..was in mild pain, they felt the teeth through the skin, but it wasn’t actually painful. Slowly feeling tired..yn plays with Jungwon hair as still drinks blood..yn looks down to see jungwon eyes closed..not before he opens his eyes again and makes eye contact with yn. Yn notices the red haze in his eyes..jungwon then pulls away from yn..

“Sorry, was that too much?” he asked. “A little bit, but I’m okay..” Yn reassured. Jungwon looks at yn once more. Smashing their lips together, yn replied to the kiss, very sloppy kiss in fact, yn could taste blood on jungwon’s tongue. This continued for about 3 minutes before yn pulled away to catch their breath..huffing for air jungwon just giggles at yn.. “I love you so much…” Jungwon says out of nowhere.. yn stunned replied “I love you too” trying to hide their face.. “don’t try to hide it's cute..” jungwon grabbed yn’s wrist preventing them from hiding. With the hold on their wrist. Jungwon cages yn between his arms…he pecks yn’s forehead, cheeks, nose and lastly lips before saying..

“We’re not done yet babe…”

Authors note: surprisingly the Sunghoon Drabble did well which I didn’t really expect. Anyways a jungwon Drabble for the spooky season also I was having a major writers block while trying to come up with an idea for this 😭😔 but anyways I like this a lot actually I’m proud of myself.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen crack #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen jungwon #enhypen soft hours #enha fluff #enha x reader #jungwon drabbles #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #jungwon soft hours #jungwon #enha imagines #mari: works *

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readychilledwine · 7 months

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Training Tensions

A second part of Early Mornings (link in masterlist and coming soon) in a way. Showing the beginning of the mateship/courting between Cassian, our illyrian oc (who now has a name), and Nesta. But with a plot twist so I have an excuse for something that may get posted later.

Summary - Nesta can't help falling harder and harder for Irelina. They've been ignoring it for months now, but the dam has to break at some point

Warnings - fxmxf threesome inferred, oral, mentions of a trouple/poly-relationships, husband encouraging someone else to bang his wife (because Cassian is a king), mentions of impact play, wing play, oh and some actually emotionally stuff. It's NSFW but not as spicy as I've been known to post

A/N - I hadn't intended to add to Early Morning much, but when I'm in a writers block, my mind goes back to her, Nesta, and Cassian, and the emotional bond between her and Nesta. So you may occasionally see pieces of them sprinkled between other updates.

"He's just selfish!" Nesta landed another harsh punch that had Irelina smiling with pride inside despite the stinging in her hands growing. "He just thinks he knows everything," another sharp punch landed on her pad. "And for being able to get into people's heads, he understands nothing."

The final blow caught her off guard. Nesta pulled a move the young female watched her use while she was sparring with Cassian. A faked right into a left into the stomach. Nesta gasped as she doubled over. Eyes wide in shock as she began to cough.

"I'm so sorry!" Nesta was at her side, a hand gently touching her back. "I-"

"Don't apologize," she wheezed out. She placed her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths through her nose as Cassian ran over.

"What happened?" Nesta backed away, only for Irelina to reach for her hand and hold her there. Electricity shooting through her at the contact.

"She's a visual learner," is all she said. "She took a fake shot on me and it worked because we had hardly even discussed that yet. I'm so proud of you, Ness."

Nesta's face slightly flushed with the praise before she buried it away.

Training the next day involved her and Nesta in meditation. Focusing on their inner self. "I can feel how unsettled you are. Talk to me." It was a gentle invitation. One Nesta took immediately.

"I just do not understand how you all sat there and did not tell Feyre she would die."

Nesta watched her eyes open. "There was not a single day that went by since I found out that I did not want to tell her. Trust me." Irelina paused, looking towards where Cassian and Azriel were sparring. "It just was not my place. I do agree it was not handled properly, though."

Nesta's mind froze, unprepared to have her feelings validated. "You don't think I'm wrong?"

She shook her head at Nesta, eyes closed again. "I think Rhysand, my dearest brother, should have included his mate and wife in decision making regarding their babe and her body. I feel HE should have told her right away and included her in the search to find solutions."

She opened her eyes, finally looking at Nesta with that gaze that reminded the younger female of molten honey. "I do not think you told her from a place of genuine concern and love, though. That is the only thing I do not believe was handled correctly on your end."

Nesta sook her head. "I do love her, it was concern."

"It is not your love I question, Ness. It's your intention. In your heart, yes, you meant well. In your subconscious, no." Nesta studied the illyrian female, her beautiful face and scarred wings. "I think you are grieving so deeply, Nesta, your heart has begun to be poisoned. You are blinded by your rage and hurt. I understand that heartache."

"We failed you," she continued. "We failed you, and Elain, multiple times. We failed you when you were forced into that Cauldron, we failed you when you were recovering, we failed you when your father died, and we failed you after the war."

Nesta felt her heart swelling, her eyes beginning to water. She had longed to hear those exact words for nights now.

"I failed you," Irelina said softly. "I failed you when I allowed you to go down the same pathway I did of numbing yourself through booze and sex. I failed you when I wasn't there every day and night holding you. I failed you, and I will never be able to make up for it."

She held her hand to Nesta, then gently laced their fingers together. "Everything you are feeling, little dove, every piece of anger, of longing, of sadness, of self doubt, of absolute burning sheer rage, you are valid in those feelings. You are allowed to feel those feelings." She brought Nesta's hand to her lips, kissing the top of it gently, "it's how we move forward in how you process those feelings, how you let them free, that makes the difference in your soul's peace or turmoil."

Nesta was awake before her. Before Azriel and Cassian. Eyes locked in the fire burning in the hearth. Her dreams were haunted by Irelina, but not the way her nightmares had plagued her.

They were haunted by gentle touches, soft whispered words of love, support, and encouragement.

They were haunted by memories of the two of them, when Rhys would allow her off her leash and the two of them would spend time reading, finger tips running up and down her arm as Irelina jotted down notes for reports or flipped her horror novel behind her.

Nesta jumped when soft hands found her waist, a kiss placed on her temple. "Why are you up so early, dove?" She shivered at the sound of her voice laced in sleep. "Want breakfast or coffee? I can steal some tea from Azriel too?"

Nesta's mind flashed to the last time they had breakfast alone, to when Irelina served her coffee and the fluffiest pancakes she had ever had. Nesta had hardly been able to control herself around Irelina and Cassian for weeks after that, but her rage towards Cassian helped. Her jealousy of hearing him make his wife a begging mess helped.

"I was wondering if we could not train today?" Nesta asked quietly. "Just take a day to relax, you and me?"

"I'd have to ask Azriel," she said. "But I will work something out with him. Did you want breakfast?"

Azriel had not let Nesta out of training. Following his orders to a t, much to both of the females disappointment.

Nesta and Irelina were sparring basic hand to hand and currently locked together. It didn't take her but a spare second to take Nesta to the ground, straddling her hips and pinning her hands above her head.

Nesta's chest was heaving, her eyes wide and mouth parted slightly. Irelina's brows scrunched together at the same time Cassian gripped his chest over his heart and Azriel's shoulder.

She was off Nesta in an instant, moving through the House of Wind as Nesta ran after her.

She locked herself into the bathroom of her and Cassian's room, sinking against the wall. Nesta jiggled the door handle forehead against the cool wood, "Irelina, let me in." She knocked softly. "Talk to me, please. I know you're scared. I was scared when I felt it too, but you've made me feel so safe, please."

She heard Cassian's footsteps. "Lark? Baby, what's wrong?" Irelin didn't answer. Sitting with her head against the wall, a new silver thread gleaming next to a golden one. She tugged them both before closing the bond down.

Cassian knew the message, placing a hand around Nesta's shoulders as he saw that pretty silver string too. "Give her a little bit, dove. She's shocked."

"You knew?" Cassian nodded at her question.

"Of course, dove. I knew the second I laid eyes on you in that manor you were mine, ours." Lark and dove, Nesta noted immediately. His little birds. The thought spread warmth through her body. The thought of being his. Of being Irelina's. Of being theirs.

Irelina skipped dinner, punching her feelings into one of the spare bags into the early hours of night.

Nesta could feel her confusion, her excitement, her pain radiating through her hands.

Cassian and Azriel had left for the evening claiming there was an emergency in Windhaven, and telling Nesta to behave herself while they were gone. Nesta closed her book, walking to the training grounds and sitting to watch Irelina.

She was covered in sweat, muscles and breasts shining in the light of the full moon. She struck the punching bag quick, precise, and repeatedly. She was wearing nothing more than a tight pair of leggings and a bra built for training. Her dark hair was messily braided back with a few pieces framing her high cheekbones.

Nesta felt her eyes trapped on the muscles flexing in her thighs and arms. Irelina paused, her head turning to Nesta. She shook whatever thoughts were running through her mind off and went back to beating the punching bag.

The loud flapping of wings and a soft thud next to Nesta ripped her from the inappropriate place her mind was going.

"She likes to bathe after doing this," it was an emotionless purr that made Nesta growl. "She likes lilac oils and red wine. Plenty of bubbles."

Nesta glared towards Rhysand. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Cassian asked me to ensure you took care of her tonight since he won't be here to do it himself. It is your duty, after all, as her mate." Rhysand took off again, flying back to the home he and Feyre were staying in.

Her mate. The words replayed over and over again like a crescendo in a symphony. Her mate.

Nesta prepared a bath for her, pouring the scented oil and wine for both of them, and waited. Irelia froze at the door, already wrapped in a towel.

Nesta took a step back from the bath, sitting in the vanity chair. "I thought you needed something to help you relax. You don't seem okay lately."

She nodded. "Thank you." She moved toward the tub, stepping shamelessly out of the towel and into the warm water. Nesta was reading her romance novel while Irelina bathed. Her eyes locked on the sultry scene being painted for her between the two female love interests. Her thighs began to squeeze together occasionally, begging for friction.

Her eyes began to flick to the naked illyrian female. Her breasts were peeking above the water, bubbles hiding the toned body and curves below.

Nesta was desperate to touch her. To kiss her. To have her. "Your back looks sore," she stated. "Do you want me to come rub it?"

The scent in the air changed immediately. The lilac oil mixing with something slightly musky. "If you'd like to?"

Nesta swallowed that bit of fear in her bones, moving to the tub behind her and sitting with her legs in the warm water.

The steam in the room was thick as if it was adding to the tension between the two females. Nesta moved her wet dark hair over one shoulder and began rubbing her shoulders. A soft moan had Nesta almost pausing before moving lower. "Cassian needs to give you a massage," Nesta joked.

"He tries," she laughed out. "He really does. But he gets distracted."

"I can see how." The words came out before Nesta could stop them. They hung in the air like magic. Lingering in their effect on both of them. Irelina turned between Nesta's legs, wet hands trailing her bare right calf.

"You can't say things like that, Nesta. Our self control with you is already low." She lifted Nesta's long left leg over her shoulder and trailed a few testing kisses up her calf. "There's so many things I long to do to you, Nesta."

The oldest Archeron sister's face had flushed. She pulled her dress up further exposing her legs, then her stomach, then her breasts until it was off and they were both laid bare to each other. "Show me," Nesta whispered. "Show me what you want to do to me."

So Irelina did.

Cassian could smell sex in his room the second the door opened. He knew one scent immediately. Pomegranate and currants, his wife. The other a vanilla spicy musk with touches of amber.

A familiar moan had him hard instantly as he moved mindlessly to the bathroom door.

The sight behind that door was heaven. Nesta had his mate laid out on the tile bathroom floor, her back arched as her hands tangled in Nesta's freed long hair.

Nesta had her head between his mate's thighs, tongue and mouth working her timidly but encouraged by each hair pull and breathy gasp. "Like that, Ness, please, fuck."

Cassian moved the chair Nesta had previously been in, drinking the wine that was opened straight from the bottle. Nesta looked up, seeing him and pausing, ripping a pleading whine to leave his wife's throat.

"Don't stop on my account," his voice was deep, laced with arousal as he watched Nesta. "Keep going, Ness. Unless you need me to show you how to make that pretty bird sing?"

Nesta's eyes grew dark at the offer. At the thought of learning how to draw the same noises from Irelina the way Cassian did. He smirked, moving to Nesta. He took one of his wife's beautiful legs, placing it over Nesta's shoulder, similar to how she had pulled Nesta apart earlier. "Do to her exactly what you want done to you, Ness."

So she did, sucking her clit into her mouth and licking that bundle of nerves.

"Fuck. Please?" Moans turned into whimpers as Irelina pulled Nesta's face further into her heat.

Cassian ran a long finger down Nesta's spine, feeling every bump and ridge. Memorizing every building muscle. Nesta hummed under his touch, sending vibration through his wife causing another crying moan. "Is this okay, Nesta?" She whined in response, arching up for Cassian. "What a beautiful little thing you are, sweetheart. We've wanted you for so long."

"So long," his mate moaned and confirmed.

Nesta woke up between two warm bodies, two sets of wings caging her in like weighted blankets of protection. She turned to her side and traced Irelia's Face and played with her lashes causing the other female to wrinkle her nose and pull her closer. "Did we hurt you?" Nesta shook her head at the sleepy tone from the other female. "This doesn't have to change anything between us, Ness. We can still just cuddle, read, and be friends."

Nesta swallowed thickly. "And if I want more? If I'm ready for more?"

"Then we're more," she whispered. "But he is part of the deal, so you two will need to work on your…. Current relationship."

"I don't know how."

She ran a hand through Nesta's hair. "Let him train you with me. Stop pushing him away. Talk to him. Cassian can be rough, but once those walls you two seem to fortify around each other melt and bend, you're both these soft creatures needing love and validation. Gentle understanding."

She pulled Nesta to her, kissing her lips softly. Nesta rolled them over carefully, a hand going to Irelia's Delicate wing, making her arch her back.

"Oh?" Nesta rose a brow. "I thought Feyre was kidding."

Irelia shook her head quickly. "Pretty serious. Watch." She watched as Irelina danced long limber fingers on the ridge of Cassian's wing. "Get on top of him. Take what's yours, dove. I know you want him back inside of you." She tugged that string, making Nesta gasp. "Shall we turn him to putty?"

Cassian woke up to Nesta on his already hard cock, riding as she kissing Irelina, whose pretty dripping cunt was just in reach of his happily awaiting tongue.

Azriel sat with his hands folded at the table as the three of them emerged one by one. The scent of it was overwhelming. The ridiculously pungent bond. The heavy scent of sex.

He rose a brow at Irelina, knowing the female would tell him everything shamelessly to draw jealousy out of him.. "Anything happen while we were gone? Anything I as Nesta's babysitter need to know about."

She rolled her eyes at him, forcing Nesta into her normal seat next to Cassian and taking the spot next to Azriel.

"You can join us next time if it makes you feel better, Spymaster." Cassian and Nesta's eyes both lit up. "Maybe I'll even let you beat me with a cane or hang me from the ceiling."

Nesta noticed how that immediately got Azriel's attention. His scarred hand flying to Irelina's neck. "You know better than to tease me, little bat." Azriel smirked at the shock on Nesta's face. "Welcome to the throuple, Ness. Excuse me while I go remind this pretty little thing who is actually in charge between the 3 of us." He took Irelina by her neck back up the stairs, whispering in her ear as he moved with her.

Cassian leaned back with a smirk. "Welcome, dove. Might want to start mentally preparing for that one."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #cassian x nesta #nesta x reader #nessian x reader #cassian x illyrianoc

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