#forget parties or mischief

[auecho]

THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY ೀ kafka & blade ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ‘oh girl, don’t hold back - let it out!’

𝓦ARNINGS ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ fem!reader - threesome - drug use - dubcon [themes] - slowburn - ft. jing yuan - overstimulation - blade has a crush on the reader - cunnilingus - reader is a bit of a pushover - roommate!kafka - ex-stepsister!kafka - sexting - cum eating [?] - creampie - asphyxiation && gagging - praise - grinding - making out - spit - dumbification - kafka is . . kafka - masturbation [f. & m.] - orgasm control - squirting - creampie - mating press - everybody is slightly ooc - not proofread - minors & dark content antis do not interact ! ! !

𝓐UTHOR’S 𝓝OTE ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ hihii first full fic ^3^ n first post ! ! so welcome 2 my acc,, m name is echo n i’m pleased to meet u 🫡 eek ‘m so excited, i’ve been sittin n workin on this idea for a while so i hope u enjoy it ! i listened to kiss land by the weeknd writing this and i think it fits rly well sooo >_o this is dark content so viewer discretion advised ! please don’t read if not ur taste T_T im posting this later than expected m soo sry :c reblogs n feedback very appreciated cuz the guidelines r gna get mi < / 3 ! !

𝓔CHOES ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ kiss land , the weeknd - valentina , daniel caesar - fill the void , the weeknd - sdp interlude , travis scott - the worst guys , childish gambino & chance the rapper .

𝓦ORD 𝓒OUNT ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ 20.7k+

SHE CARRIES A distinct scent with her: cinnamon, champagne…and a twinge of mischief. It flurries in the air and infects your brain like the plague. She had this certain cadence about her: an aura drawn up in a slick figure and even slicker tongue, characterized by a sultry red color. That was Kafka. She's a bombshell, delivering a traumatic shock that you can only hope to forget. You tried to forget — tried to cloud that era of your life to no avail. She kicked down the rock blockade you'd built, welcoming herself into your life again with an impressive amount of effort.

“Elio said she has nowhere to go! She can't stay with him because he moved into a one-bedroom after the divorce! She's about to be couch-hopping at 22 — it’s sad!!” your mother whined. Her emphasis lay on certain words, pathetic tones emanating from the manipulation of her words. You're weak, standing hunched with a backbone made of cotton candy. “But, mom—” “And she begged Elio not to bother us—bother you—but he did it anyway because we’re always family. Family needs each other, family depends on one another.”

She'd pestered a yes out of you, and since the syllable passed through your lips, you've been counting your blessings.

After all, Kafka was an all-devouring curse: blessings were her kryptonite.

Exactly one week later, you bit your nails anxiously and breathed deeply so much so that you got lightheaded. It's been years, she may have changed, you comforted yourself. Your mind worked on its splintering tooth and nail to soothe your wild imagination. Kafka was always going to be Kafka — it was just a matter of whether she developed or if she enabled perversion.

When she engulfed you in a hug you almost passed out smelling her again. Hearing her was another thing, seeing her was even worse. Smelling her — that warm, spicy scent that burns but entices was the pinch to reality you needed. In the flesh, Kafka stood. In all of her menacing glory - ready to flip your world upside down.

“Missed you, little mouse. Ugh, how’ve you been?” you fought the urge to shiver. The nickname and her ever-tickling tone — God, you weren't prepared.

“Good,” is all you muttered. ‘Way better before.’ you wanted to add.

“Mmm, good, I'm glad. I got nervous when Mom said my baby moved out all alone.”

My baby. You could really just…die. She was just as charismatic as before. Possibly even more, given her blatant maturity. You would think it was a play on your age, but truly it was endearment from her: her form of caring for you.

“Who would've thought we’d be living together again? We’re gonna have so much fun!” In the giggle that slipped from her throat, lies mischief. She picks up a box out of the trunk, turning on her heels with the biggest, most Kafka smile ever. She was always…unique in her definitions of fun. One could only imagine the roller coaster you were riding.

When you make your way to your apartment, you just breathe. Breathing is the only thing that can stabilize you. The jumble of nerves that bounce around inside of you relaxes at your exhales. You're not shaking anymore, or feeling your skin heat and clam up, making it easy to lead Kafka into her room.

“Oh, wow. All this space, all alone? You've really grown up, little mouse.” She compliments with a sigh. The box in her hands now sits on the ground. You flush, dusting your hands on your shirt, “Oh, thanks. Mom helps from time to time.” Even though you would much rather have your independence.

She looks around at the space, the room occupied by nothing except a naked bed and an empty dresser. It's an awkward 30-second silence before she breaks it, “Thank you, again. You're really saving my ass,”

And again, you're wrapped in Kafka’s arms, forced to awkwardly pat her back and stare at the wall across from you as if it were to save you. “No problem…again,”

The hug you share births goosebumps on your skin. Her hands glide across the small of your back, nimble fingers dancing lightly across the surface. The tickle is the least of your worries — the blooms of heat that surge in her wake are what blows your eyes wide open. Kafka’s hugs are tight and warm. Almost comforting if it wasn't for the way she ghosted her lips over your ear just right, making you tense. You hate it because it's something you've grown used to. You like it a lot more than you probably should, actively leaning into her touch after a few seconds.

“We should probably get the rest of your boxes…” You mutter. Kafka sighs, pulling off of you slowly. It's almost as if she's savoring the feeling of you in her hands. “I’ll get them. I shouldn't inconvenience you more—”

“—It’s fine. I don't mind helping,” She laughs and squishes your cheeks between her fingers, “You're too cute.” booping your nose for emphasis.

And she couldn't stop saying it. It almost felt condescending the way “You're so cute,” fell from her lips every time you did something. Your out-of-breath huffs or triumphant sighs elicited the remark again and again as you hauled her luggage up to your apartment. You gave up by the last box and stretched out on her floor, and Kafka only laughs harder as she begins to unpack.

“Do you want me to help you?” You groggily breathe out. Moving is exhausting, and you're not even the one moving.

Tucking the sleeves of the shirt as she folds, Kafka shakes her head no with a chuckle. “You can help me by showering. I'll finish up and order some food, ‘kay? Consider it my thanks.”

“But you've already thanked me—” “—And I'm doing it again.” She cuts you off. Your eyes meet and she cracks a smile, “C’mon, up you go. The longer you take, the longer you have to wait to sleep.”

Kafka is someone impossible to argue with. You swipe your tongue over your teeth to fight off a smile…but her gaze is warm. It makes you nervous in the weirdest way, and your lips stretch wide. Defeatedly, you nod, “If you say so.”

ೀ

The sun retired for the night and in an hour, you'd showered, dressed, met Kafka in the living room, caught up with a shot or two slipped in the mix, and dug into the XL pizza she ordered. It was your favorite toppings—you were shocked, to say the least, that she remembered.

“Enough about me,” She grabs hold of the conversation, placing her plate down on the coffee table—and you hide the cringing your face defaults to with a crooked smile and nod. “What about you? How was finishing high school? Starting university? Is Mom still…Mom?”

You awkwardly giggle, placing the plate in your lap. “The answer to the last question is yes. She's never changing, I fear.”

“But…I've been good, really. I keep saying it but it's true; grades are good, friends are good, and Mom is as good as she could get—” more laughter, “—but, yeah. I'm not traveling like you, Kafka. I barely leave my apartment unless it's to go to class. I'm stable, and I'm good. Nothing to tell.”

Kafka eyes you critically as if she's trying to read you. There's nothing to find because as you said, there's nothing to tell. You've always been the stickler goody-two-shoes type: abiding by rules and expectations and never deviating from your white-picket-lined path. It wasn't perfect, and never always good, but it was enough. Enough that you could say with your whole chest that you're okay with being boring…because, well—it’s all you've really known.

She walked into your life as your sister at eleven and walked right back out at fifteen. In four years, you'd been enlightened to a dark side of the world, but you were always too timid. Kafka was a playful cat, ready to paw at her sheepish little mouse until you played back.

Back then, you were too young, and under the palm of your mother to enter rebellion. Now, you're free…somewhat. Kafka was determined to help you spread your wings. She was going to plant the seed in your ear and let it sprout: “It’s your world,” She says. “isn't it about time you live? The way you want to? You're a big girl now — you deserve a story to tell.”

She can tell by the widening of your eyes that the conversation is bordering on too much. “Uhh, I don't know. I'm happy right now—”

“Happiness is temporary. Memories are forever.”

And while she makes a good point…what exactly would you do? How?

Her head tilts and her eyebrow lifts tentatively. She wants to ask how far are you willing to go, but the conversation is far too premature. “It all depends on you, little mouse,” is what she settles on instead. “I’ll be ready to lend a helping hand when you need me.”

The conversation takes a thoughtful pause. Your head seems to fill with thoughts and returning to her now chilled pizza, Kafka pats herself on the back. You're going to spread your wings and flourish, and she prides herself on giving you the route. It's only a matter of time, she thinks. A matter of time before the real fun emerges.

“Oh, by the way,” she interrupts the silence, “do you mind if I have a few friends over tomorrow? They wanna throw me a housewarming party.”

“Um, no, it's fine. My study group is coming over tomorrow after my classes so try maybe before? Or after that—we won't take long.” You miss the deviousness in her smirk.

With a final bite of her pizza, she nods. “Of course.”

ೀ

Jing Yuan is so charming.

He flashes you a Cheshire smile and you find yourself stumbling over your sentences. You palm your face, embarrassed, and let out a shy giggle. His deep chuckle follows and you almost don't want to look at him again.

Fu Xuan kisses her teeth and rolls her eyes. “Lay off the flirting, would you? Can't leave you two alone for a second...”

She joins the pair of you at the end of the courtyard, golden eyes narrowing. There's an awkwardness that creeps up, and you smile nervously while Jing Yuan scratches his neck. He displays a coy smirk that you avoid looking at — opting to rock on your heels and check in the distance for Yukong.

You and Jing Yuan are classmates; friends, even, if he were to agree with that sentiment. Though your crowds don't particularly mix, you find some comfort in one another. Albeit, most of your time is spent tutoring him. It's nice, nonetheless.

You're not opposed to liking him—in fact, you're smitten with him—but you doubt the feeling is mutual. He's Jing Yuan and you're…you.

His question reaches your ears, breaching your train of thought: “Is Yukong still joining us?”

The way he turns to you makes you shy, and you shrug in place of your words. “Umm, ‘dunno. She said so, but something must’ve come up.”

“Well, in any case, let’s just head to yours. She has the address.” Fu Xuan replies exasperatedly. Jing Yuan shrugs, “If that’s okay with you?”

You perk up at his kindness, and Fu Xuan groans, rolling her eyes. “Uh, yeah! Sure!” With your eyes glued to Jing Yuan’s pleased smile, you miss how Fu Xuan mocks you.

“Can we go now?!”

The three of you quickly commute back to your apartment. It's a nice fifteen-minute walk—even nicer when Jing Yuan let you talk his ear off the entire way. Fu Xuan was paces ahead of the two of you, grumbling under her breath about how she should've said no and cursing to Yukong for leaving her with you.

You've been studying together for a while, but you've never brought them over. Your sessions usually take place at the campus library or the local cafe, so to say you're a bit nervous is an understatement.

Not only have they never been over, but you have Kafka. She’s a wildcard and you can only pray that she's on her best behavior.

Your key spins in the hole and you push the door open. Over your shoulder, you mutter, “I think my…sister’s home so she might come and say hi.”

You hope that's the most that she’ll do.

Upon entry, there's a potent, herbal smell floating around the air. It's slightly smoky, and your throat tightens up. You turn around at your guests and cringe at their upturned noses and scrutinizing gazes. “Uhh…”

“Wait right here…um…” you murmur. You don't wait for their responses before speeding toward Kafka’s room.

The stench is stronger in the hallway and her music is even louder. The bass jumps through the floorboards and you doubt she’ll even hear your knocks — but you do it anyway. Knock knock knock.

No response.

You bounce on your heels nervously, peeking out and seeing Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan talking awkwardly by the door. Your nerves overcome you and you hurriedly knock again. “Kafka! I need to talk to you — Kafka!!”

You keep knocking on the door until the music stops and the door swings open. A cloud of smoke hits you immediately and you fall into a coughing fit, waving the smoke out of your face. “Good God…”

“Oh—my bad!” She laughs at you, turning over her shoulder to her friends and sharing the amusement. Her heavy-lidded eyes fall back onto you, and she leans on the door for support. “What do you need, little mouse?”

“Um…” you look over her shoulder and see her guests in her room. A silver-haired girl rests on her bed and types away on her phone, and a black-haired guy sits on the floor - his low eyes on you as he breathes out a cloud of smoke. You didn't know what to expect but you aren't surprised. You're more…uncomfortable. “Um, yeah — my study group is over and it smells like…yeah.”

Her eyes widen and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “That's right now?! Oh, I'm sorry—Silvie and Bladie came over early and I didn't know you’d be back so soon.”

Silvie and Bladie…interesting names.

You nod to her response. “…Yeah…I don't mind you…smoking or whatever but please open a window? It's very strong and it travels and I don't want the landlord to throw a fit.”

“Yeah, of course. Bladie!” She calls out over her shoulder. The guy—Bladie—doesn’t respond, but only perks up. “Crack open the window, yeah?”

And he just…complies. You're almost amazed at how he just listened and pushed the glass open, the cool evening breeze drafting into the bedroom instantly.

Kafka turns around as though it is normal. “There we go,” She giggles.

“Thanks.” You mutter, nodding your head. She winks at you as she shuts the door. You hear her shutting down a remark made by…Silvie and a barrage of laughter.

You make your way to the door where, thankfully, Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan still stand.

“Everything alright?” Jing Yuan asked. He immediately turns to face you, and suddenly your good mood sparks back up. You nod, “Mhm. She has a few friends over too but…I’m sure it won't be too bad.”

You welcome them in, all piling into your living room and crowding around the dining table.

Jing Yuan pulls his laptop out of his bag and sets it on the table. “I did awful on the last test…” he informs, presumably going back to the gradebook. “55%…”

Fu Xuan bursts into laughter. “No wonder you need both of us to help you study! Good lord!!”

You ignore her teasing and pull out your books. “What do you need help with?”

She's quick to cut him off, “Clearly everything if that grade is anything to go by…!”

“Xuan, stop!!”

Her laughter continues, and Jing Yuan waves her off. “The musings of a jealous nobody don't affect me,” and now it's your turn to laugh. “I'm here to get help so I don't mind going through everything. If you're okay with that, of course.”

“It’s fine, yeah—I’m fine with that! Um, let me just get my…” You trail off, sifting through your bundles of papers in your folders. You try to ignore the burn his gaze lays on your skin. He props his head on his fist as he leans on your table and God, does it make you feel special.

Fu Xuan bites back at his remark, “I'm not jealous and I'm definitely not a nobody! Watch your mouth, Jing Yuan!!”

And now it's your turn to internally curse Yukong.

“Here we go!” You pull out the review packets you made yourself — something you pride yourself on. You lay them on the table for him, eliciting a difference in reactions from your guests.

Fu Xuan sees the packets and rolls her eyes, “Only you would make your own review packets.”

And Jing Yuan instead muses at the sight, “No—it’s cool. Resourceful. I like that.”

And I like you, you want to say. You decide to keep that to yourself and only smile in response to play coy.

“This one is from the first couple of lessons, these two were for the quizzes, and the rest are for a few lessons in between.” You inform, pointing at each packet. “I also have some flashcards and some annotations; let me find them…”

“Look, all you need to do is read the textbooks. All the information is in there.” Fu Xuan argues, taking one of your packets for herself and flipping through it. “Do you read, Jing Yuan?”

“I read, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, so do I — but that doesn't help everyone, Xuan.” You snatch the packet out of her hand, laying it on the table. “But whatever. Do you think this will help you?”

Jing Yuan nods, gratefully. He takes a packet for himself, flipping through it. “You mind showing me how you use them?”

And with a flustered smile, you nod, immediately scooting closer to direct him.

You show Yuan your method: using his notebook to write down what he remembers, going back and adding things he didn't remember, and working out everything in between with what's in the packet. Your mother taught you the method during your eighth-grade year after your grades slipped and since then, you've sworn by it.

Fu Xuan uses this time to tease and ridicule him, occasionally aiding with her…aggressive technique whenever he stumbles over a particular concept.

You share some laughs and rambles along the way, and you’re given a side of Jing Yuan you never thought you’d get. He's surprisingly easy to talk to, and you don't know if he's actually that funny or if you're just that into him — but either way, you enjoy it. He makes your cheeks hot and your smile wider.

He’s always been your campus crush — but he’s everybody’s. You're not special but the way he's looking at you makes you feel as such. You hope that maybe he’ll ask you to tutor him again and maybe it’ll just be the two of you. Without Fu Xuan’s teasing and complaints.

After about an hour, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s focused and his attentiveness leaves you and Fu Xuan the time to talk.

You drown out her complaints about the sorority not allowing her in to focus on the presence of Kafka’s friend in your kitchen. She stands on her tippy-toes to rummage through your cabinets, groaning and slamming her palms on the countertop. “Uhh…do you need something?”

The girl turns around, “Food! Where the hell are all of your snacks?!”

“Um…” You don't get to respond. She stomps into your living room, shoving her hand into the bag of pretzels Fu Xuan brought. “Excuse me!!!”

She shoves the handful in her mouth, crunching obnoxiously. “Those are so fucking dry…” She complains, turning back into your kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

Your last Kombucha is taken, popped open, and gulped down right before your eyes. You were going to drink that.

With an unabashed burp, the girl sets the bottle down and turns to you. “Hey, little mouse!”

“That's not my name—”

“Can you order some food, please? I feel like I'm being fucking punished.” And she continues to ramble, “Was I a bad girl? Do bad girls not get to eat?” And she falls into a fit of laughter.

You're uncomfortable. You know Fu Xuan and Jing Yuan must be too. This is just awkward, and embarrassing on your behalf.

“Can you get some pizza? Ooh, no, better yet, chili oil beef stew. Do they deliver that?” No. The answer is no. “Hold on, I’ll get the money.”

She scurries back into Kafka’s room with a heavy slam of the door. The three of you turn to each other, and you nervously laugh. How embarrassing.

“Is that your sister?” Jing Yuan asks. Oh God, he probably feels so uncomfortable.

“No! That's her friend…sorry about that.”

“She needs to pay me for a new bag of pretzels! I don't know where her hands have been and I'm definitely not eating that.” Fu Xuan huffs, crossing her arms and crumpling up the bag. You laugh at how she lightens the mood, but turn your gaze to Jing Yuan who's now focused back on his work. Great. You blew it.

Out comes Kafka’s friend, stomping toward you and shoving some bills into your chest. “Here you go! Keep the change,”

You don't want her change. But you don't protest — instead, you call up Delicacy Pavillion. “Hi, can I place an order?”

ೀ

The walk back to your apartment from Delicacy Pavillion feels like a walk of shame. You're even more ashamed because Jing Yuan decided to tag along and Fu Xuan decided to take her cue and leave. Now you're alone. With him. In the middle of the evening. Picking up delicious food for your ex-step-sister and her friends.

He offered to walk with you—“I don't mind. Besides, what kind of guy would I be if I let a pretty girl like you go out all by yourself?” You're not strong enough to deny his flattery, and so here you are.

Now that Xuan is gone, you don't know what to talk to him about. Or how to talk to him. You opt to keep your mum, humming a song you’d heard in passing lowly to yourself. Five minutes away and this day will finally be over.

“Are you and your sister close?” He breaks the silence.

You turn to him, “Ah, well — she’s not really my sister. Our parents were married for a while but they divorced now. A while ago, actually. We aren't close but…yeah.”

“Interesting…” He comments. “Yeah…”

“I don't mean interesting in a bad way—I’m interested…in you.”

Oh.

Oh.

“You're interested…in me?” Your heart is practically jumping out of your chest. You can't hide the flattered smile that curls your lips.

He chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets and throwing his head back. “Ha, yeah. Of course — how couldn't I be? You're sweet, very smart…” He turns to look at you. Your eyes lock, “…very cute, too.”

It's like he wants you dead.

You immediately avert your gaze, nudging him in the side. “You're just messing with me.”

“If that's what you believe.” He shrugs, a playful grin resting on his face.

Now you don't know what to believe. But you're going to choose to believe that he means it.

“I'm interested in you too.” You sweetly proclaim, unable to wipe the big grin off of your face. His cheeks flush a pretty rose color, and his smile turns coy. The quiet you two fall into is much more comfortable and much lighter, and now you wish that your time with him won't end.

The pair of you make it to your apartment building, and when you stand in the elevator, you avoid his gaze. He watches you through the reflection of the elevator doors, and his smirk grows as he watches you try not to look at him.

He takes a step closer to you and when his hand swings your fingers brush and you almost drop the bag full of food. He knows how to make you flustered and how to make you smiley.

“Cute,” He mutters. He's not the only one who thinks that.

Jing Yuan does the gentlemanly thing and walks you to your door. As soon as you fish your keys out of your pocket, he pulls you into a hug. His arms are big and muscular and so warm — you immediately hug him back and wrap your arms around his waist.

“See you,” He says, rubbing the small of your back. You timidly respond, “See you.”

The smile on your face is prominent even as he walks away. Even as you walk into your apartment, coming face to face with a ruckus you never thought you’d have the displeasure of walking into.

Kafka and her guy friend are planted on the couch, the strong smoke smell clearly following them into the living room. And the girl…she lay on the floor still swiping away — but as soon as you closed the door behind you, she hopped up. “Yes—fucking finally!”

She bolts over to you and steals the bag out of your hand, “Thank fuck!! I'm so damn hungry!!!”

Kafka gets up, her guy friend immediately following. She smiles at you, coming to wrap you in a hug. “Ohhh, thank you, babe.” And she plants a firm kiss on your cheek. You feel the stain of her lipgloss on your skin, and cringe at it, only nodding and smiling as if to say “You're welcome.”

“I’m going to shower and go to bed…so uh, can you keep it down some?” You say, walking in the direction of the bathroom.

They barely hear you and focus on digging into their food. With a defeated sigh, you stalk away.

And with your back turned, the strict gaze on your disappearing frame is missed.

He’ll see you again, though.

ೀ

“I want you to formally meet my friends,” Not even a greeting as you entered the door. A hi, hello, or how was your day? would have been nice.

“Hello to you too, Kafka.” You quip, taking off your shoes and stretching your aching toes.

“Hi, little mouse,” she sarcastically chirps. She places her drink on the coffee table and you try to ignore the lack of a coaster - instead bracing yourself for the embrace she pulls you in. “Mm, you seem tense; your day went okay?”

You nod. Not quite, is the answer you hold on your tongue, swallowing it down and hiding a grimace beneath your smile.

Jing Yuan hadn't spoken to you all day. He didn't even look at you — his attention was focused on Tingyun. Pretty, brown-haired Tingyun with the charming smile and warmest aura…she’s now your competition, and from what you saw today, she’s leagues ahead of you. Hanging off of his arm like it's her lifeline and encapsulating his gaze in the palm of her hand. You almost stormed out of the lecture when her hands brushed his cheeks, her thumb swiping over his beauty mark.

He's just trying to make you jealous. That thought was supposed to comfort you but it made you even more upset. As soon as your professor shut his mouth you were out of there, leaving dust in your wake as you sped toward the library.

You needed to decompress and distract yourself. You were buried in a book when a touch you remembered too well landed on your shoulder. “I was looking for you.” He says.

Looking for me my ass, you think. But the sentiment warms you, nonetheless, and a smile pulls across your lips. “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” The tone of his voice makes you want to rip the hair off of your scalp. He's so sweetly condescending, so sultry and you can just get lost in his melody. He's like Kafka that way—wait. Nevermind…

“Can I take you out tomorrow night?” The suddenness of his question has you jostled, and the substance of the question has you flustered. Jing Yuan wants to take you out???

You're mad at him, though. He can just take Tingyun for all you ca—“Of course—er, I mean, sure. Why not?”

Fuck.

He chuckles at your stumbling, burying his hands in his pockets. His forearms scream at you as they clearly come into your line of sight — the image to be cherished and forever forefronted in your memory. Why is every part of him so attractive? “Great. I’ll text you later.”

And he squeezes your shoulder as he walks in the opposite direction. Fucking hell.

You're just pissed off. At yourself, at Tingyun, at Jing Yuan — you hate that he made you giddy and excited and you couldn't stop smiling to yourself even as you walked home alone.

He asked you, not Tingyun. Surely, if he wanted her, he’d be taking her out tomorrow, not you.

“So, tomorrow at…5? Is that cool?”

What? “Huh? Sorry,”

Kafka sighs, “I want you to meet my friends. It’ll be like…totally chill and just cool so don't freak out and think some type of formal meet-the-parents shit.”

“Is tomorrow at 5 good for you?” You’d be wrong if you said no. Kafka is trying. “Yeah, um, I guess,”

“Yay! This wasn't my idea, by the way — they want to meet you,” They do? “Really?”

She walks back over to the couch and plops down, downing a gulp of her pink Monster Energy. “Mhm. Silver wants to know how we could ever be sisters, and Bladie…” She takes a pause, having a short laugh to herself, “Let’s just say he’s taken a liking to you.”

You're confused by her statement but you don't press further. You're not sure you want to know.

“Um…I’m going out tomorrow, so,” “We won’t keep you long,” She shrugs.

Your subtly doesn’t work well—you mean to decline the offer. “Okay then,”

You begin to awkwardly walk to your bedroom, Kafka’s voice following you down the hall. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“I’m good.” You answer back. As good as you could be.

┄┄

With the nth layer of lip gloss slathered across your lips, you break into a smile at your reflection.

You’re pretty.

All dolled up: not a single fly-away or stray, cheek-housed eyelash, flawless base, and a perfectly ironed outfit describe your appearance. You spent the better half of your afternoon in the bathroom shaving, plucking, exfoliating, and giggling to yourself about your date with Jing Yuan.

You’ve never looked better. You don't think you’ve smiled this much in your life.

“You look so pretty, babe!” Yukong chimes. Her eyes gleam over the pixelated image on your phone. “So, what type of date is it? …It is a date, right?”

“Well, he didn't say it was a date—but he asked to take me out. What does that mean if not a date?” It's all semantics. Date schmate; at the end of the day it's you and him together. Alone. “He didn't…discuss the details. All I know is that he’s coming at 5:30 to get me.”

Interesting…

“It’s kinda…sexy. Like ooh, surprise me.” You add, giggling.

Right…

“If you say so…” Yukong sighs out. You laugh, missing the sarcasm thick in her tone.

“Well, anyway, I should get going.” You check the time: the digital numbers read 5:05. You're early, but, hey— better safe than sorry. “Call you later, love you!”

Yukong smiles and throws up a peace sign and ends the Facetime.

The hefty laughter from the other side of your door bulldozes through your silence, reminding you. Damn it.

Another small smile in the mirror and you get up from your vanity. You grab your clutch and walk out and into an atmosphere of laughter and…blueberries?

You wave the scent out of your face, and as if it were perfectly timed, the chatter died down and heads turned to you. Your hand fell to your side and you immediately made eye contact with her.

“Ohh, little mouse!!!” Kafka squeals, dragging out the nickname sing-songily. She skips to you, a hand nudging your shoulder. “Look at you!! Look at her guys!” She turns to her friends, grinning wide.

The pair raise their heads, faces morphing in opposite ways of one another in response. The silver-haired girl takes a brief puff from her seemingly blueberry-scented e-cigarette, “Woww, would you look at that?”

She turns to the guy beside her with an escaping smile, “You clean up nice, little mouse.” She compliments.

You cringe at the nickname leaving her lips, nodding. “Thanks…”

“What do you think, Bladie?” Kafka calls out, one arm pulling you close to her and the other swiping down in a showcasing movement. He perks up instantly and looks completely uncomfortable. He avoids looking into your eyes at all costs.

You feel bad. You tuck your clutch under your arm and raise your hands in defense, “No, no, it's okay. Kafka…you shouldn't…”

“Nope—it’s only right I tease you like this,” She rebuts. Her grin shortens to a smirk and her hand squeezes your arm, pulling you closer. “Mom’s not here; somebody’s gotta be the one to nag,”

It's a good thing your mother is not here. You moved out to get away from her. You only awkwardly laugh in response, shooting an awkwardly apologetic face toward Bladie.

“Uh…pretty,” He comments. “You look nice.”

It's only now that you realize you haven't heard his voice yet. And, woah. Wow.

“U-um, thank you. Ha…” You stumble out, growing flustered at your stuttering.

Kafka laughs, sending a look towards him that you miss. “Anyway,” she diverts, “these are my two companions: Silver and Blade.” She points at the pair respectively and they each emote.

“The two most important people in my life. After you, of course,” She informs, fingers nipping at the fat of your cheek teasingly. “What about Elio?”

She shrugs. “Oh, yeah. Him too,” and she and Silver burst into laughter.

Kafka introduces you to them after the laughter dies down, making sure to include “My little sister,”

“Ex-step-sister-now-roommate,” you correct. Silver chortles at your sass and Kafka sends you a narrowed stare. “You're right. My favorite ex-step-sister-now-roommate: my little mouse,”

“Wait, you mean to tell me you have other ex-step-sisters-now-roommates?” Silver jokes, laughing at her own joke. She slaps Blade on his arm to urge him to laugh along — to which he maintains his rigid posture and awkwardly avoids the scene.

Kafka walks the pair of you into the room, toward the couch opposite Silver and Blade. You sense an immediate switch; almost as if you’d changed realities. The air was suffocating in a way you couldn't understand. It was something deeper than awkwardness, something less juvenile than embarrassment. It was palpable: it hurt to swallow when you gulped nervously.

Silver blows another cloud of smoke toward your face, and when the fog dissipates you're met with the mischief on her face, “Sooo,” she drags, “what do you do for a living? This is a nice apartment you got,”

Small talk. You can do small talk. “Um, thanks! I mostly do tutoring and babysitting. But sometimes my mom helps out.”

Her face crinkles up in confusion. “Tutoring pays for all this???”

You laugh, “You’d be surprised at how much people are willing to pay for good grades. I mainly work with middle schoolers who aren't doing too well and their parents are so desperate. They’ll pay just about anything.” You slightly exaggerate the circumstances of your job. There's only one kid you tutor regularly and you've already begun discounting him because of his relation to Jing Yuan. It's a good thing Kafka moved in — the rent was beginning to look a bit dangerous.

“Ohh, interesting. What a hustler,” Silver jokes. Kafka laughs right alongside her, nudging your side with her elbow. “Fitting right in with us.”

The group bursts into a fit of laughter — even Blade spits out a few chuckles — and all you can do is awkwardly laugh along. You feel like a sore thumb: dolled up in your pretty blue outfit while your roommate and her friends are dressed in sweats and assortments of band tees. They laugh at a joke you don't quite understand and share glances that speak an entirely different language from you.

You want the time to speed up. You're waiting for Jing Yuan to save you from this awkward tension like the knight in shining armor he is and whisk you off to the date he planned.

Getting out of here would be so nice. You won't have to hear them poke and prod and tease and you wouldn't be scared to look left. Blade’s gaze is so intense. Goosebumps have risen on your skin from the sheer atmosphere it induces — is he doing this on purpose? He has to be. Kafka must have put him up to it.

It eases you to think that she’s just being herself: her playful, mischievous, dangerous self. In a week she’ll get bored, they’ll stop messing with you, and they’ll find something else to do. That's the way it's always been with Kafka and it helps you to relax.

But it's his stare. The way his eyes shyly rake you up and down again and again. He drinks in the sight of you and doesn't react — he’s committing you to memory and every time he takes a reprieve, his eyes thirst for more and wander right back to you. Kafka notices it. Silver notices it. You notice it. Everybody but Blade can see the way he looks at you: as though he could eat you whole.

He watches your face light up when your phone buzzes and you pull it out of your clutch. Thank the heavens; it’s Jing Yuan.

‘be there in 10. ;)’ He texts. ‘okayyyy <3 see you!’ You text back. Too flirty? Too excited? Oh, God. He hearts your message and your smile grows wider.

Blade wants to say how he wants to be the one to make you smile like that, but it's too early for that. He’ll opt for admiring you, instead, thinking to himself about how pretty you look grinning so wide and how pretty you probably look with his c—

Knock knock knock. That was fast.

You nearly jump off of the couch to answer the door, skirt flaring in the air as you skip to the door. Kafka watches with amusement thick on her face. You're so cute, a guy like Jing Yuan doesn't deserve you.

The door swings open and there he stands. His hair is pushed into a high ponytail and he’s clad in a simple outfit—but God, does he make it look good. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

His greeting awakens butterflies in your stomach. “Hi…” You reply shyly. He smiles at your nervousness and holds his hand out for you to grab, “You ready to go?” You nod almost immediately.

Before Kafka can open her mouth and trap the two of you there, you announce your departure and leave with a wave, slamming the door behind you. The group all share looks, and her smile can't help but get wider. “She’s so cute,”

“Wouldn't you agree, Blade?” Silver teases. Growing embarrassed, he lowers his head. “Oh my God!” She laughs, hitting the couch cushion. “You totally wanna fuck her!”

Blade doesn't respond. Silver turns to Kafka mouth wide, eyes blown, “He wants to fuck your sister, Kaf!” Don't we all?

Kafka sits in between her two friends, placing a warm hand on Blade’s shoulder. He immediately relaxes but keeps his gaze tied to the ground. “It’s okay, Bladie,”

“It happens to the best of us.”

┄┄

“I’m not going to lie,” Jing Yuan breaks the silence, “I didn't have a clue on what to plan. I just knew I wanted to see you again.”

His flattery is out of this world. He has you feeling so special, so wanted—you turn to look at him and just stare in disbelief. The Jing Yuan is driving you in his nice-ass BMW to a date that he asked you out on. Lucky girl syndrome is so real. “It’s okay, I’m not picky.”

“I like that.” He laughs out. “I like you.” His right hand abandons the steering wheel, traveling to your exposed thigh. His touch is light, tempting. He’s testing the waters, and only does he let his hand rest wholly on your thigh when your breath hitches but you don't stop him. He spares you a glance, a smirk drawn on his face when you briefly lock eyes.

“I think you said that before,” You lighten the mood. Your words sound breathless, clambering out of your throat nervously. “Oh, have I?” His hand creeps upward, now sheathing itself beneath your skirt. His fingers tap on your thighs — he’s teasing, waiting for a reaction.

You hum in response, now gluing your eyes to the dashboard because if you look down, you're going to explode.

“Guess I really have to let you know, then.”

“Guess so,” You respond. His hand only lies on your leg, not traveling any further. He pulls into the parking lot of the movie theater. Not your idea of the perfect first date, but maybe he has more planned.

You get out, immediately locking hands and walking side by side into the theater. He opens the door for you, leads you to the ticket stand, and the hold on your hand never falters. He uses it to pull you closer, letting his arm drape around your waist and his fingers tap along your skin. He’s setting you ablaze, burning you with every gesture he does.

You don't even care about the movie—Sky-Faring Commission 8, you think—you’re too focused on Jing Yuan. He drapes you in his jacket and wraps his arm around your shoulder when you get seated. He whispers a joke to you about the previews and laughs into your hair to not disturb others around you. And when the movie gets to a particularly boring part, he finds himself leaning on your shoulder.

His lips are featherlight as he ghosts over your skin. You act as though you don't feel it — gluing your eyes to the movie screen. You couldn't care less about the melodramatic climax on the screen. It didn't matter to you, it didn't register in your mind as important. He was so close, breathing in your sweet perfume and brushing his lips against your skin when he smiled. Oh God, you subconsciously lean towards him, letting out a sigh when puckered lips connect with your neck.

He places another kiss, and then another - readjusting his position to lead a trail upwards. The kisses grow larger distances as he eagerly travels to your lips. His hand reaches over and grabs the side of your face. You couldn't turn to look at him on your own: filled with too much anxiety and nerves to bear the connection.

Your eyes lock - a desire in his juxtaposing with the shyness in yours. He needed you, leaning in swiftly and collecting a kiss.

His tongue abrasively weaves its way into your mouth, sloppily licking around and tangling with yours. He was so powerful: overwhelming and all-consuming. You could only sit there weakly, trying your best to keep up with him.

Yuan is no dummy. He can tell you're not all into it. You sit rigidly and lack any eagerness to kiss him back.

“You nervous?” He whispers against your lips. His hand on your face slips down to your waist with a comforting squeeze in tow. You crack a smile nervously, “Never done this before. Well, like, in this way…”

He's quick to recover from the twinge of annoyance that surges within him. “‘Ts okay. I got you,”

He leans in, hand slipping to your thigh. It's almost cinematic — the movie flickers in deep reds and blacks as an action sequence plays and your silhouettes form on the wall behind you. He's so close, so tempting that you can't help but take in his words. “I’ll take care of you.” He says. And you fall for it.

And he kisses you even slower, more sultry. There's an enthusiastic flame in his kiss — he just wants you to give it up. Let him take you, let him have you. It's not like you don't want it.

As he kisses go deeper, hungrier with teeth sinking into your lip and lips sucking around your tongue, his hand slinks up your skirt. He plays with the band of your panties, feeling the soft material. His fingers roll and entangle in the fabric, feeling the slight jolt of your hips when his touch caresses your skin.

He shoves his tongue down your throat to keep you silent, pushing his hand further onward and cupping your cunt.

Your thighs immediately crush around his wrist. He’s trapped in your heat, feeling the throb of your clit against him. He bites your bottom lip with a smile as he presses his palm flat against you. The applied pressure to your clit has the bud stiffening.

God, you want him. You want him so bad.

You have to stop yourself from moaning and squirming. You’ll literally die if you get caught.

“I want you so bad, baby,” he whispers, pulling away. He kisses your jawline and rubs his hand against your pussy. The feeling is beyond mutual, you think. You can't do this, though. Not here.

You hum in response to him, fearing that any other response may be too loud. Feeling a premature knot gnarl in your stomach makes you panic and grab his arm. You can't cum yet—and definitely not here.

“Too much?” He laughs against your lips. He tries to sink his arm deeper between your thighs and your hips run away. “‘M sorry. How about we get outta here?

Locking eyes with him has you shyly saying yes. You don't have sex on the first date—Jing Yuan or not.

But your body seems to crave him. To want him and in this circumstance, you can be able to bend your rules. “Okay,”

You quickly exit the theater hand in hand with an unimportant amount of time left in the movie. There was a strange feeling swarming in your gut: akin to a thrill with a tickle of unsureness. You chalk it up to butterflies. It's just nervousness because the dream you've held onto ever since you first laid eyes on him is coming to fruition. You've always wanted Jing Yuan. You always wanted to be his.

He drives the car shortly to the parking lot of a shut-down arcade, parking his car and immediately clambering to the backseat with you. It was like he couldn't wait - like he was going to die without you. It's hot.

His hands immediately grab your hips and his lips overtake yours. He slowly lays you against the leather seats, wasting no time. He's making quick and agile movements: hands slipping under your shirt and cupping your breasts and lips wrapping around nips of skin.

You gasp, arching your back into him. “You're so sexy,” He moans, fondling you messily, needily.

“T-thank you…” You stutter out.

He kisses down to the neckline of your shirt, pushing the fabric up and going under to kiss around your chest. His lips replace his hands, the latter rehoming on your thighs and pushing your skirt up. His lips attach and suck around the top of your boob as his hands pry your legs apart, fingers dancing up toward your core.

You moan out softly. His tongue swipes across your flesh and his middle finger walks through your slit. “You’re so wet,” he comments, pressing your clit down with intense pressure.

A weak whimper dances from your lips and he laughs contently.

He continues to rub your clit while kissing your skin, turning your flames up so high that your body burns to the touch. A sticky sound resonates off of the interior of the car, sloshing grossly as your airy moans attempt to compete with it. Your pussy drips, your hole spasming as he teases you further and further.

You never thought you’d be in Jing Yuan’s backseat about to get finger fucked—and as much as you want to, you just - you can't.

His finger circles your entrance, ever so teasingly and you tense up. You pull away almost immediately, snapping your legs tightly shut and beginning to sit up. “Sorry, I’m sorry,”

Yuan takes a seat opposite from you, brushing his fallen hair out of his face with a huff. He gives you time to adjust your clothes, staring out of the front windshield. He looks…bummed, dissatisfied and you feel terrible. “Trust me, it's not a you thing. I just…I dunno. I'm not comfortable with what I don't know,”

“Nah, it's good. You're good.” He sends you a short smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

And you don't want to worry about it, but you can't not. There's an obvious tent in his pants and a frustration hidden beneath his appearance — you blue-balled him beyond measure and made it awkward. He’s probably never asking you out again.

In an attempt to ease the tension, you offer an alternative: “Wanna get something to eat? My treat.”

Taking a look at you breaks a smile on his face, and he nods. “Why not?”

┄┄

The date could have gone worse.

That's what you tell yourself as you ride the elevator up to your apartment, alone.

He had to go, he told you. “Text me before you go to bed, alright?” And that made you feel better, somewhat. He could have told you to delete his number and never go anywhere with him again, so you count this as a win.

You can't shake the tension, though. It's better than whatever the hell you, Kafka, and her friends had floating around, however, it's just as uncomfortable. The elephant in the room is humongous, but neither of you dare step on its toes. You don't blame him for feeling some type of way, but he shouldn't blame you either, right?

“Welcome back! How was your date?” Kafka questions as you walk in the door. Silver and Blade are still here, the latter on his phone and the former focusing on her strawberry crunch ice cream bar. You wave at Kafka, removing your shoes and remembering you still have Yuan’s jacket. You won't leave it out for it to get dirty with the Three Musketeers running around your apartment.

“It was good,” you reveal softly. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I’m really tired so I’m just gonna go shower and go to bed.”

Kafka nods, waving you off, “Alright; good night, little mouse!”

You get into your bedroom and don't even think twice. Your clothes are stripped off and strewn across your floor but you make sure to place Yuan’s jacket on your vanity. Your hair goes up and your body wraps in your towel, a quick commute to the bathroom across the hall to wash today off of your body.

Warm water splashes over your skin, soapy clouds run down your body as you scrub. You still feel embarrassed — the scene of you quitting on Yuan replays every time you close your eyes. You're mad at yourself because you know you want him, you always have, and you fumbled your opportunity badly. It's embarrassing for you and him. You fear it's an event you can never forget.

Twenty minutes of pouring the stress and dirt and Jing Yuan down the drain and you're finally ready to sleep. Body clean, pajamas on, makeup off, and skin care on, you climb into bed and immediately grab your phone.

‘just heading to bed c:’ You text. You twiddle your thumbs for half a second before you start typing again: ‘i did enjoy our date today btw…hope u don’t get the wrong impression cause i’d love to go out w u again <3’

That’s good. He knows how you feel, you've said your peace and lifted the weight off of your chest. You turn your phone off and rollover. Off to dreamland you go—

Ding!

Your eyes shoot open. Ding! And now you're rolling back over, grabbing your phone, and squinting at the initial brightness.

‘don’t worry abt it haha’ He texts back. ‘it’s my fault, I should’ve asked’

Your fingers press and heart his message, quick to move to the keyboard and begin typing. But before you finish, another text from him rolls in: ‘i’m glad you enjoyed it. it’d be my honor to take you out again’

You silently cheer, kicking your feet under your duvet. ‘i’ll be holding u to that’

no need already planning our next one

whatre u thinking?

that takes the fun out of it if i tell you dw i won’t make you wait long

He's flirting. You're flirting. Even through text, he has you running in circles looking for a response. What do you say? What do you say?!!

good c; don't wanna wait to see u again

‘me neither’ He starts typing, then stops. Is it over already?

The typing bubble pops up again, and in seconds, his blue message fills your eyes: ‘u mind sending a pic?’

Suspicion doesn't address you—instead a feeling of confusion. Where is this conversation going…?

im in my pajamas lol so not sexy

doesn't have to be, you make something sexy plus the kind of pjs a girl wears tells you all abt her

does it?

mhm

Damn it. You crawl out of bed, turn your lamp on, and step in front of your full-length mirror. A loose-fitting shirt and small house shorts. Nothing extravagant or appealing — just extremely comfortable.

Five attempts at a flattering mirror selfie later, you finally land a picture that satisfies you enough. Immediately to Jing Yuan, it goes, paired with the message ‘what do mine say about me?’

You sit back on your bed, criss–cross applesauce as you wait for his response. Three minutes later he likes your message, ‘says you're cute’

that’s it?

He responds quickly. ‘not sure if you wanna take it there haha’

You're not sure either. ‘try me’

It takes him a minute to start typing again — presumably needing to take the time to make a conscious decision before he embarrasses himself…again.

‘Attachment: 1 Image’ You immediately click on the image, zooming in only to be met with his bulge. Black boxers stretched around a fat tent in his pants with his big hand resting on top of his lap.

His next message comes in seconds later, ‘says you drive me crazy and need me there to make you feel good’

And the next one…‘it's hard for me to control myself lol’

i just get so turned on by you

Oh. He's taking it there.

‘me too’ You have to send the text with your head facing the other direction, nearly jumping out of your skin with the confirmation swoosh sound.

‘i don't usually get that wet btw…’ You inform. It's a bit of a half-truth; you haven't slept with that many people to gauge how wet you can truly get but you're almost positive you've never soiled your panties like you have today.

He hearts your message and immediately starts typing.

oh rly? what abt now? still wet?’

If the way your thighs are pressing together is anything to go by, the answer is a very enthusiastic yes.

yeah want u so bad

You don't sext — you've never done it before and you are awful with your words. You're nervous despite the wave of boldness that's overcoming you. This is escalating fast, bordering territory you've never crossed.

You should've just gone to bed and texted him the following morning. You should have kept it innocent and not pushed him further. You've opened a can of worms and now it's time to reap the consequences. Fuck.

let me see

Double fuck. Maybe triple. Possibly quadruple.

How the hell are you supposed to show him???

You immediately hop up and move your mirror, repositioning it to stand parallel to your bed. Should you turn the light off? Maybe you should.

You jump onto the bed in the darkness, slithering off your shorts slowly, giving yourself time to stop and preserve your dignity. God, you can't believe you're doing this, you think, setting yourself in the most awkward position to show the wet spot painted on your fresh pink panties.

Flash on and legs in the air, the camera shutters three times. If you weren't embarrassed before, you definitely are now.

You send two of the three photos, tossing your phone into your pillows.

The ding is still audible, followed by two more that make your heart jump.

shit you're so hot baby Attachment: 1 Video

A shaky thumb presses play on the video, immediately adjusting the volume when wispy curses spill from the device. The video shows his unclothed abdomen and his hand in his boxers, rubbing his dick slowly.

You watch with peeled eyes how his stomach rises and falls, abs gnarling as he bucks into his own hand. Twelve-second video. It's a twelve-second video and it seemed to last for an hour.

He sends more texts:

wish it was you are you touching yourself?

No.

yeah doesn't feel as good as when u did it, tho

You ignore the way your cunt clenches around the air and your panties grow increasingly uncomfortable with the slick pooling and seeping.

pretend it is me Attachment: 1 Voice Message

Oh fuck. You lay down, bringing the phone to your ear and dancing your fingers across your stomach in hopes of soothing your nerves. This is a lot. This is probably worse than letting him feel you up and almost finger you in his car.

“‘M gonna help you feel good, okay?” He starts the voice message. You nod as if he can see you, and close your eyes to take in the full experience.

“Start rubbing your clit—go slowly, tight circles, okay,” he pauses, presumably to let you complete the action. The quiet is filled with an airy gasp from you, sensitivity extremely prevalent between your legs. You part your folds and hear how sticky it is, and it's even worse when you let your finger slip in between your labia and press your clit. You moan so loudly you have to bite your lip.

With your thighs instinctively closing on your wrist you roll to your side, burying your face in the pillow as you start to do as he says: slow, tight circles around your sensitive bud. You can hear him spit—presumably in his hand—and faint slick sounds in the background. He starts speaking, overpowering the background noise, “Feels good, huh?”

“Keep doing that, okay? Keep going until you're about to cum—” He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath, “—fuuuck, baby. I want to fuck you so bad; bet you sound so pretty when you moan…”

He just turns you on more, leaving you to whimper and further push your face into your pillow, attempting to quiet yourself.

It's been a while since you've had any sexual time — oftentimes too tired or uninterested in tending to your needs even though your body screams at you for a release. You're overly sensitive, clit throbbing angrily and hole spasming thirstily. You need to feel good, to reach nirvana — you needed to let Yuan fuck you and satiate the thirst.

He sounds so good talking to you, moaning for you, working you up to your climax, “Put a finger in, baby. I wanna hear you, too,”

You're just horny at this point. You almost waste no time in recording a voice memo, pushing your middle finger into your cunt with a breathy whine, “Oh, God,”

You start at a slow rhythm, really edging yourself. You huff and whine and whimper all into the speaker, letting him hear every voice crack and deep breath. It feels so good, but it's not enough.

“I wanna be filled,” you manage to say. “‘S not enough…need you, Yuanie.”

Send.

You stop your ministrations as you wait for him to respond, letting yourself come down from the impending climax.

Ding!

fuck

Is all he sends, and then your phone starts ringing. Your reflection in the FaceTime camera has you adjusting your position and putting the phone in a flattering angle, answering the phone with knitted eyebrows and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. What a performer you are.

When the call connects you're met with his dick. His hand traverses the length eagerly, an angry tip leaking milky white down the shaft and glistening as he jerks himself off. You see him behind his big cock: hair disheveled and face red.

“Let me see your pussy,” his voice is gritty, deeper than usual. His tone is almost demanding—you clearly don't have the luxury of being shy at the moment.

You lower the camera slowly, pushing your panties to the side and letting the radiance of your phone screen show the glistening mess to him. “Oh fuck,” he comments, throwing his head back.

“So pretty, so perfect. I bet you're tight as fuck,” You decide to show him: slipping your index finger in first with a sweet moan, then following up with your middle finger after a few pumps.

You're definitely fuller, but it's not enough.

Your cunt squeezes around your fingers tightly, spilling out a waterfall of arousal. Your ministrations are easy with how wet you are: fingers slipping in and out with little to no resistance, just narrowly missing your sweet spot.

It gets harder to hold back your moans—sounds now coming out as broken cries as you bite intensely on your lip. “I wanna cum,” you sniffle.

“Yeah? Cum for me—show me how that pussy creams,” So obscene but so, so incredibly hot.

Your hips buck into your hands and your hold on your phone gets weak. You have to change position: set the device up between your pillows, and put yourself on display

Normally, you would never do something this risky. Maybe it's because of Jing Yuan—or a different potential point of interest just mere feet down the hall—but you feel inclined to jump out of your shell now.

So many years in Kafka’s shadow and even more in your mother's palm. You're grown up now, independent and you want to be taken seriously. It's the least you deserve and the most you want. He's going to take you seriously; he's going to see how badly you want him and the lengths you’ll go to to show up for him.

You've made a big leap in your behavior and you're prepared to deal with the consequences. No more little mouse, you're not a baby anymore.

It's time to take the world in your palm and bask in the mature gleam. You let the spotlight burn your skin as you work yourself to an orgasm, moaning so carelessly you're probably the center of conversation among Kafka and her friends. And you’d be right; partially, anyway.

Kafka having dozed off with Silver ages ago left Blade up alone, amusing himself with an average social media feed and remnants of a joint. He tried to ignore your soft moans coming from down the hall, but hey, he has keen ears.

He knows it's probably that douchebag you went out with making you sound like that and he can't even get mad about it. He's almost thankful — it's not every day you get to hear the melodies of an angel.

Neediness and curiosity reach all-time highs and urge him to do something he's 100 percent going to regret.

Blade takes light-footed steps toward your bedroom, the moans, and whimpers of you getting louder as he approaches the source. You sound so pretty; he can only imagine the way your face is knitted up and how wet you must be.

He hates himself for doing this, but he eavesdrops: letting an ear rest on the wood of your bedroom door and taking in the sounds you spew out.

He wishes he was on the other side of this door making you sound like that. He'd probably make you wake the entire apartment building up—

“I’m about to cum—! Ngh, oh my—” A sharp whine cuts you off. He wonders: do you squirt? Can you? Can he make you? There's no way possible that dickhead can do it.

“Me too—oh, shit, baby.” Comes out muffled to Blade, and his eyes roll immediately. Cornball shit, he thinks.

He hadn't pictured you as the phone-sex kind of girl, but with the way that jackass is egging you on, it's no wonder. You're so much better than this, than that guy and all he wants to do is let you know that. Blade is probably no better, but he can try. He can change for you and do right by you—in every aspect.

Your whimpers grow pitchier and you're puffing out deep breaths. You sound…overstimulated. He can imagine your toes curling and thighs trembling as you fuck yourself, squeezing your eyes shut with swollen lips. Your pussy is probably leaking a river, covering your ass, and staining your (probably) dainty white sheets. What he would give to make you feel good, let alone look at you.

“Yuan—!! I'mcummingImcummingImcumming!!!” You squeal, muffling yourself with a hard slap over your mouth.

Blade doesn't even realize he's begun to palm his cock and roll his hips into his hand. “Oh…” he quietly moans, letting his head fall onto your door.

Shit. He has to leave now, hearing you yelp at the sound and shuffle around. No use trying to hide, so he makes an escape: walking fast out of the front door without a second thought. Great—now he has to drive home with a rock-hard dick.

And you gather yourself. Hanging up the phone with Jing Yuan and walking to your door awkwardly due to the mess between your legs.

Cleaning yourself up in the bathroom and avoiding your reflection in the mirror, you think back to that sound. It was a knock, right?

Kafka and Silver lay on opposite ends of the same couch, curled under your throw blanket which is much too small for them. Blade is nowhere to be found…huh. Weird.

“Hey, Kaf,” you shake your roommate awake over the back of the couch. She moans and rolls over, slowly peeling her sleepy eyes open, “hmm?”

“Were you at my door just now?” The red-head shakes her head no, pulling the blanket over her shoulders and away from Silver.

If it wasn't her…“Where’s Bladie?” She questions, noticing his absence.

You shrug. “He probably left earlier.”

Even half-asleep, Kafka has double the brain you do. You can't see what's right in front of you.

She smiles, shuffling again and closing her eyes. “Alright, then. Good night.”

“Night,”

ೀ

With a week left until spring break, you cherish the time you've spent this last month or so living.

It feels like the first time, in all of your nineteen years of living, that you are living. Your smiles are brighter, your days are happier, and you're living every second to its fullest extent in absolute bliss.

Almost every week you're on a date with Jing Yuan. He's practically your boyfriend, but there's no official label so you keep that thought process to yourself.

Lowkey dates with him that slightly escalate have become your norm. You're still holding off on full-blown sex, and you wish you weren't. It causes some tension every time you restrict him from fucking you - but he tells you he's waiting, he's more than happy to wait. That's more than most men are willing to do and you're happy that you're fortunate to have landed yourself someone like you. Spending the tail end of your dates getting your neck marked up and fingered while you jerk him off is as much scandal as you can handle. Nerves are what's stopping you from going all the way. Definitely not Kafka’s hot friend who you can't stop thinking about.

There's synergy in your apartment now. You're not walking into a room with a tight chest and bated breath, just waiting to see what's waiting for you anymore. It's normal now—all of it. From Silver ransacking your kitchen to an obnoxiously loud-smelling blunt, you're used to it. It's not nearly as bad as you feared when Kafka initially moved in.

You sit in the dining hall with Fu Xuan, listening to her angry rambling about her statistics class. She never backs down, always eager to let a piece of her mind fly whether you like it or not.

“Stupidest fucking class ever. And, like, I shouldn't even be in there in the first place because I am wayyy too smart—”

“Hey guys,” thank God. Yukong shows up and sits next to Xuan, saving you from a monologue about how smart and wonderful she is. You love her, but man does she know how to talk.

“Nice of you to join us,” Xuan says snappily. Yukong pays her attitude no mind, sipping her coffee and turning to you with a knowing look.

She shifts the conversation, “Anyway…I came to let you guys know that there's going to be a party on Friday at the sorority. Tingyun said it’s to celebrate the beginning of spring break.”

You can't even remember the last time you went to a party. The smile growing on your face is too strong to fight. “What time?”

“Umm…I’ll have to check. Probably late though, so…”

This can be your first outing with Jing Yuan. Just the two of you with all eyes on you. Right before spring break as well…it could be your first time together—the thoughts alone make your head spin and a flurry of images swarm.

“Hm. Well, I won't be there.” Xuan states, crossing her arms and looking off elsewhere.

Amused, Yukong questions her why. “‘Cause. I'm gonna be busy with burning this stupid campus down!”

┄┄

hii <3 didn’t see u today so i hope ur feeling alright! also did u hear about the party this friday? r u thinking about going? miss u

You send your trilogy of texts to Jing Yuan, drowning out the conversation Kafka and Silver are having in your living room. “Can you back me up here?!”

Silver looks at you for backup, to which you're dumbfounded. What were they talking about again? “Sorry, what were you saying?” You ask, setting down your phone.

“Ugh!” The gamer groans, falling back onto the couch. “Please tell your sister that a Nintendo DS and a Nintendo Switch are not the same thing!”

“They do the same thing, though!” Kafka defends. “Barely! Kaf, I’m on that thing like, twenty-four-seven and you mean to tell me you think I’m playing Cooking Mama?”

“I don't know what you play. You never let anyone try and join you.”

“Because you all suck! Every single last one of you is dead weight and it makes me look bad.” Kafka scoffs, turning around and looking at you with an exasperated look. You lock eyes and share a similar smile — as much as you claim you and Kafka are total opposites, you get each other in ways not understood.

She turns back around and shuts Silver’s yapping down and at the same time, Blade emerges from the hallway. He looks good. Really good.

His long, dark hair is disheveled and tossed into a low bun, making you gain a newfound appreciation for man buns. His black “wife-beater” tank snugs onto his frame tightly—every ridge and curve of his solid abdomen pressing through the fabric and leaving little to the imagination. Staple gray sweats make you immediately avert your gaze, awkwardly making eye contact with you.

He caught you staring, and you caught him.

As if it were divine intervention, your phone buzzed on the counter behind you and you went straight for it, hiding the flustered look on your face behind your phone. You don't do a good job, though. Kafka notices.

hey baby accidentally slept in this morning but I’m alright heard abt the party but idk if I’m gonna go. not rly feeling it

A frown stretches across your lips as you disappointedly text back.

ohh okay feel better <3

Read.

It's fine—you're fine! You’ll just go with your friends and have a great time and you can see him after break.

You want that to be comforting but your gut tastes the bitter truth. It's not time to have that conversation with yourself so you table it, leaving your phone on the table and joining Blade on the second couch. Kafka and Silver monopolized the other one and you had to fight the urge to wiggle your way between them.

“So, what are we watching?” You make conversation, hiding the shake in your voice by focusing on the TV. Some random show plays, something so stupid you’d never waste your time on this.

“Dunno. Blade picked it.” Silver shrugs, slamming buttons on her Switch.

He turns to you. “Uh, it's the adaptation of the book ‘Verdict’. About Imbibitor Lunae.” He informs shyly. His voice is so gritty and deep—every time you hear it you swear you feel the depth reverberating in your bones.

Blade makes you so nervous. With his intense stare and even more intense aura, he's overwhelming and nerve-wracking. While you've grown to be comfortable with Silver and Kafka, Blade is the only one you walk on eggshells around.

And he feels the same way. He wants to breach the wall and get to know you. He wants to sit on this couch with you with his arms wrapped around your frame and you in his lap and relax. He's so tense around you, so stiff out of pure fear that if he makes the wrong move or says the wrong thing, he’ll scare you off. Blade likes you. And when it comes to girls like you and guys like him, it doesn't take much for things to go wrong.

You like that he reads though. “Ooh, interesting. I’ve never read that book,”

“It's pretty old and short. Most people of our generation haven't heard of it, I bet.”

“Yeah, 'cause you act fifty years old!” Silver sneers, earning a slap on the leg from Kafka. He pays her no mind, instead watching how you laugh at her teasing.

Your eyes get so bright when you smile: full of joy, full of light. It's so cute.

“What episode is this?” You ask him. Clearing his throat, he checks with the remote, “Episode four.”

“Mind catching me up?” Are you doing this on purpose? You’ve got to know what you're doing to him.

Heat drives up his neck and he has to create distance, sitting all the way back on the couch and replying to you with a nod.

You gulp, watching the way his legs naturally spread and how his arms flex. Insanely attractive, almost criminally so.

“So, it’s basically about that guy,” he points at the screen, a graceful-looking man with horns displayed, “called the Sinner—”

“That guy’s a sinner? He looks like an angel,” You comment. You take another look at the screen and Blade fights a smile.

If only you knew.

He continues to break down the lore of Verdict to you, going very in-depth and getting seemingly passionate as he goes on. Kafka scrolls on her phone and takes it in with pride—Blade should thank her. Never in all of her years of friendship with him does she think she's ever heard him talk this much, let alone to someone he’s interested in. It's pure proof of what you do: the best sides of people come out because of you.

You listen to him intently, chiming in with reactions and questions every now and then and completely abandoning the show you're supposed to be learning about. You just like to hear him talk. His rough voice softens up as he continues explaining the story to you and in turn, your body language softens. You can relax and lie on the couch, keeping your eyes on his face as you lean your head down on your wrists.

Details you hadn't noticed before on his face stand out to you — like how clear and supple his milky skin is and how his chapped lips are tinted ever-so-slightly red. You notice how his thick eyebrows wiggle and knit together when he’s thinking, and his awkward, canine-heavy smile when you make a comment. Blade is dorky and surprisingly, a history enthusiast.

He goes from detailing the fabled betrayal of Imbibitor Lunae to the Ambrosial Arbor to everything before, after, and during. From the unusual silence exuding from Kafka and Silver, he realizes just how much he's been talking. Even you have started to drift off, your eyes are heavy as you listen to old Xianzhou tales.

Upon realizing that he’s effectively talked everybody to sleep, he takes the blanket draped on the armchair and covers you, making sure to be as cautious as possible. He doesn't know what he’d do if you woke up and caught him.

As weird as it sounds, he likes seeing you sleep. You look so peaceful like your dreams are full of cotton candy and rainbows. Knowing you, they probably are.

“You’re staring, Bladie.” He turns around to see Kafka, her smirk overtaking her groggy expression. He doesn't even try to refute the claim or defend himself. If there's anyone other than himself that knows him well, it's Kafka. She probably knows him more than he does himself at this point.

“You’re cute, making moves on her and stuff,” He naturally follows her as she makes her way to the kitchen. The blush on his cheeks dusts lightly, and his eyes find comfort in staring at the floor. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.” She reaches into the fridge, pulling out the last can of Mung Bean Soda.

She pops the can open and takes a short swig, “so what's your plan?”

Blade shrugs. Kafka sighs, placing the can on the counter. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

ೀ

If Jing Yuan wasn’t going to come to the party tonight, you were going to make him regret it.

You dressed in the shortest, tightest dress you owned: an off-the-shoulder white mini-dress with the prettiest shine to it. You bought it impulsively after your mid-term breakdown freshman year, thinking retail therapy would make you feel better. (It didn't–another breakdown ensued when you realized you just wasted money on shit you didn't need.)

You did your makeup the best you ever have. Perfect highlight, sharp and even eyeliner wings, balanced lip combo—cosmetology school should have been your first choice with this type of beat.

Yukong told you to come at 9; the time on your phone reads 8:58. A little late, but fashionably so.

The jacket Yuan had given you still resides in your room due to your forgetfulness. If you're going to this party, why not make a statement?

You slip on the bomber jacket, the bulkiness of the fit aiding the aesthetics of your outfit. It gave off comfy but cute—“in my boyfriend’s closet” vibes. Surely, Tingyun or whoever the hell else competing with you will take the hint with this. Nobody will have to guess whose jacket it is when there's a white lion embroidered on the right arm. If this isn't a soft launch, you don't know what is.

Grabbing your essentials you walk out to the usual scene in your living room: Kafka, Blade, and Silver seated on different couches engaged in a conversation. Their heads turn to you, and you immediately let your gaze fall to Blade. He almost looks away instantly — too much. You're too much and he knows that it's for that guy. The one who doesn't deserve you but gets to see you cum and receive your attention…unfair.

“Wowww look at you! Little mouse is stealing someone’s man tonight!” Silver whoops, snapping her fingers. You roll your eyes at her, brushing stray strands of hair back.

You walk to the door, “Don’t wait up!!!”

Oh, but they will. Some more than others.

┄┄

Yukong’s sorority house is huge but it feels so small with this many people present. The invitation was extended to the entire campus, presumably, and sure enough, they showed up and showed out.

Pulling up was a nightmare — cars and people backed up for what seemed like miles. Your Uber driver huffed and puffed the entire time trying to find somewhere to let you out, and you could only extend apologetic woes and smiles. Walking up to the house was better, but you suddenly woke up from your dream world and realized that people could see you. They could perceive you and form preconceived notions about you just from how you carried yourself. You became conscious of what the hell you had on—immediately regretting the short dress when you had to squeeze between some randoms smoking on the stairs, your bare thighs rubbing against their bodies. Ugh.

The music was loud, seemingly traveling through the floorboards and it felt incredibly unstable to walk in your heels. You searched for Yukong, spotting your best friend off to the side with Hanya.

“Woaahh, look at you!” She exclaims. You give her a spin and laugh. Through your joy, you miss the way her face crinkles up when she eyes the jacket you sport. “Do you want a drink?”

You nod, “Only like, one or two. I'm trying to stay sober; I want to remember tonight.” You send her a look that means only one thing: you have something planned for tonight. What that thing is…well, Yukong isn't sure she wants to know.

She asks Hanya to fetch you a drink, taking up a conversation with you in her place. “How’s the sister situation?”

You hadn't updated Yukong on the status of things in a while. Should you tell her about Blade?

Wait. Tell her what?

As if there's anything to tell…

“It’s actually good. Surprisingly. I thought I’d be begging my mom to take her by now,” you joke. Hanya returns with a red solo cup, handing it to you. “It’s something tame.”

You're not a fan of the taste of alcohol. You can't understand how people willingly get shitfaced—this shit is nasty. You cringe and shudder at the taste. Whatever juice base is added does not aid the taste one bit.

“Her friends are around often. Like…every day. I wonder if they have jobs but I haven't asked,” Yukong takes a sip of her drink as well.

“Did they help this transformation occur?”

And suddenly, the reality of how you look hits you again. “Ha ha, very funny. I wanted to try something new, something sexy.”

“It worked!!” A random girl replies as she and her friends walk toward the kitchen. The face you give Yukong says I told you so, and she rolls her eyes.

“Let’s dance!” You exclaim, grabbing onto your friend with the sudden shift in the music.

Reluctantly, she follows you to the sea of gyrating bodies. Everybody dancing and talking forms a cocoon of heat—you’re encapsulated the moment you breach the area.

Sip, dance, laugh. Sip, dance, laugh. Sip, dance, laugh. You keep this up for a good twenty minutes, breaking on the couch every now and then. It may be only you and Yukong — and the occasional appearance of Hanya — but you're having fun. Fun like you said you would with or without Yuan—

He’s here???

You spot Jing Yuan out of the corner of your eye. He daps partygoers up at the door, making his way through the jumbles of people clearly in search. Of you?

You almost call his name and wave but he walks straight toward Tingyun. His hands slide around her waist instinctively and her arms wrap around his neck tightly. She giggles as he lifts her up, and she gives him her cup when she's put back down. They don't break eye contact the entire time he downs the remainder of her cup, and as soon as he's finished, the cup is replaced with her hand and she's guiding him up the stairs.

Did he think you wouldn't be here? Or did he not give enough of a fuck regardless?

Whatever the case—it hurts. You take the jacket off and toss it to the ground, not realizing the stray tear that streaks down your face.

Tingyun is going to give him something that you couldn't. He’s going to give her something you can't have. You feel slighted like the rug has been torn from beneath your feet and you’re doomed to a fate forever on your ass. You look stupid. So so so stupid, but you have enough dignity to wait until you leave to bawl your eyes out.

Ignoring Yukong calling your name, you walk outside and begin calling yourself an Uber. The early spring chills make you even madder. Fuck this stupid dress, this stupid party, that stupid Jing Yuan—“Hey!!! You didn't hear me calling you?”

Yukong comes following after you, her face concerned as she comes into view. Seeing your tears, her eyebrows furrow, “What happened? What’s wrong?”

A sad laugh escapes your throat and you look up at the sky, attempting to hold back the sudden rush of tears. “Yuan is sleeping with Tingyun,”

Her face is full of indescribable expressions. She has many things she wants to say, but she chooses the safe option. “Huh?! How do you know?”

“His lying ass just showed up and threw himself all over her. Then they went upstairs and you and I both know they aren't up there talking.”

You poor, poor girl. “I shouldn't be sad…what was I thinking? I should've known that he was an asshole.” You should have, but Yukong won't blame you.

The last romantic attention you had was from Dan Heng: your kinda-sorta-ex-boyfriend who took your virginity senior year and broke up with you a month later because you were going to different schools. You crave a change in the way people perceive you. Jing Yuan was the closest thing to a fever dream you had in university, and he turned it into a nightmare. What was supposed to be your rebranding - an age of confidence and maturity was overtaken by his pushiness and exclusivity.

“It doesn't matter, I don't care. I just wanna go home,” You hope Kafka and her friends are on their best behavior tonight. You're not in the mood for any shit.

“Are you sure?” Yukong doesn't know how to comfort you. Anything she has to say will make it worse, she's sure of it.

You nod, wiping the string of tears off of your cheeks. The buzzing of your phone lets you know that your Uber is approaching shortly, so you give Yukong a smile that’s meant to comfort her - but it only worries her. She won't push you because the only way this’ll end is messy if so.

She offers you a comforting smile of her own, pulling you into a soft hug. “Call me later, okay?”

She reluctantly pulls away and heads back into the party, head swiveling over her shoulder to make sure you don't jump in front of a car. You're not going to — if anyone needs to, it's that asshole, Jing Yuan.

Your Uber pulls up and saves the day, the warmth in the car settling goosebumps on your skin from the juxtaposition. “Long night?” The driver asks, peering at you through the mirror.

Is it that obvious?

With a sad smile, you nod, “It's only gonna get longer.” You laugh. Imagining the annoying amount of questions and pep talks Kafka is going to give you when you step through the door irritates you. You lay your head against your seat, and then your phone buzzes.

Flipping the device over, you see three notifications from ‘Yuan <3’. Ugh.

Looking at it is going to make you do or say something you’ll completely regret. You regain composure through a deep breath; placing your phone face down on your lap and watching the world blur through the window.

You're trying not to feel humiliated. There's a burn in your chest because every time you close your eyes, there's a scene of you and him together. You're stupid to think he actually liked you. His longing gazes and lingering touches and sweet words were tactics to get into your pants — and it almost worked. There's a reason your mother treats you like a baby: you are one and can't handle the real world. You hate that you had to come to this conclusion like this, but you're not ready.

Thanking the driver, you pull yourself out of the car, trudging begrudgingly into the building and in the elevator. And you can't stop fucking crying.

Stray tears keep escaping and no matter how many times you wipe them away or vigorously blink, it doesn't stop the flow. Why are your feelings hurt this badly? Why did you like him so much?

These same questions cycle as you open your front door, being hit with the same atmosphere you just escaped.

You’ve got to be kidding me, you think. Of all nights, tonight Kafka decides to throw a damn party???

Not wanting to spend another second in this atmosphere, you weave your way through the partygoers — an exceptional amount of people, given the space of your apartment, if you may add.

Trying to escape to your room gets you caught by your roommate, and your name gets called across the party as a result. She maneuvers her way to you, “What’re you doing back here so early, little mouse? I thought we shouldn't wait up?”

The sadness you wear is so prominent. Your face is dropped and your lips quiver when she asks her questions. You stare at the floor to not let the tears fall. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm just gonna go to sleep, so can you keep the noise down?” You try to brush her off. Kafka doesn't let you slip away, grabbing your arm and keeping you in place.

The rim of her cup nudges at your chin in place of her hand, forcing you to look up at her. A black headband pushes her plum-colored locks out of her face, straight strands flowing down her back. When she tilts her head pitifully at you, her hair swings to the side, falling over her shoulder and at this moment she looks so approachable. “What’s wrong?” She poses the question again, her tone softer than before.

You almost break down in front of her and she immediately extends her arm around your shoulders, pulling the side of you into her chest. She hands you her cup and you immediately down the liquid with no second thought. Her hand rubs your arm comfortingly and she guides you toward the kitchen, “C’mon, let's talk in here.”

The kitchen is surprisingly unoccupied save for a few hungry stragglers, leaving the two of you to sit on the stools. She refreshes your cup, getting a new one of her own and finishing off another bottle of tequila.

Kafka can tell by looking at you that this upset is caused by heartbreak. No words have to be spoken for her to understand, and now it's her job to take care of you. The way you deserve.

“What’d he do?”

The look on her face is all-knowing. You can't help but break a small smile at her intuitiveness. “I’m sure you can imagine…”

Of course she can. It was clear as day that he wanted only one thing. Everybody but you could see that a mile away.

“How’d you find out?”

“The asshole definitely wasn't trying to hide it.” You state, taking a big sip of your drink and cringing at the bitterness. Yuck. “He told me he wasn't going to come to the party, but I'm there, dancing, and here he comes. With a big wide-ass smile he walks straight to Tingyun and they waste no time in going upstairs.”

You don't normally swear, but you're so irritated that the words just soar from your lips. It’s almost amusing to watch your angry rambling. “Not even accounting for the fact that I was there and somebody could have told me. It was right in my face—right there and it was like I was invisible!!!”

Her eyes travel up and down your body. You're definitely not invisible. Jing Yuan just doesn't know what to do with you.

“He didn't deserve you; I hope you know that.” She comments, sipping her drink slowly. You finish off yours with bigger gulps, immediately hopping off of the stool and searching for a new bottle. Pouring another full cup, you nod, “I do now.”

“And then—he had the audacity to text me!” You sit down, taking off your heels. You're ready to get comfortable and let everything rip. Kafka’s eyes widen, “Oh, really?”

You hum to confirm, picking up your phone and checking the notifications. A few texts from Yukong and Xuan join his messages, but those don't matter. You hand the phone to Kafka, “I didn't even read them. I should block him, right?”

hey baby, i’m at the party wya

just talked to Yukong…can we talk? I wanna explain don’t be like this. at least let me explain?

Double yuck. You absolutely should block him…after this, though.

“He wants to explain himself to you. Classic,” She sneers. You laugh through your sipping, sitting the cup down. “He must take me for an idiot.”

There's a short silence that breaks with you changing the subject. “What’s the occasion?” You question.

She shrugs, placing her cup down. “Just felt like partying.”

Kafka tells a bit of a half-truth. While she did feel like having fun — her idea extends beyond getting sloppy drunk and into territory thus far unexplored. There's one objective she has tonight and it can't be completed unless her two moving pieces are pliable and cooperative. In terms of a checklist, she's halfway there.

Low-lidded eyes narrow at you, as if to tell you her intent wordlessly. You don't pick up what she's putting down, instead feeling heavily nervous under her gaze. “Anyway. Why don't we…”

She trails off, her finger tapping her chin exaggeratedly. “Wanna dance?”

You suck in a breath, holding up your hands. “I think I'm gonna call it a night, actually. It’s kind of late and all that crying made my head hurt…” You laugh. That’s partly true—you just want to escape whatever trap she’s set, if you're being honest. And frankly, after tonight, you have slight trauma from dancing.

“It’ll make you feel better.” She sings, wiggling a finger at you. “Come on; just one dance!”

Your face crinkles. You're not convinced. “Silver’s on the aux, we can ask her to play whatever you want.” She tries to bribe. “No sad-girl depressed shit, though.”

She keeps asking, offering deals and propositions that sound all the more appetizing as she continues. After a series of unabashed begging, you finally agree. “One song,” you sternly declare, hopping off the stool and grabbing ahold of your cup.

Her hands are in the air defensively, a cheshire smile stretching across her lips. “You lead the way,”

You've never partied with Kafka before. Your time spent as step-sisters consisted of you mostly lurking and watching, earning your nickname ‘little mouse��� because you were quiet, swift, and moved at night. You saw her sneak people into the house while your parents slept, throw parties while they were out, smoke in your backyard, and do other wild activities — but she never let you join. Your age was your main roadblock, being deemed too young and too cute to join her and her friends. Dancing with her now, smelling the strong mix of scents in the air and the bass of the music jumping in your bones, you understand why now.

Maybe it's the alcohol or the fact that your heart is broken, but the atmosphere is heavy. There's a lingering feeling that seeps through your pores. It has you dancing with her, letting her hands lie on your waist and your hips sway together.

Your bodies generate a fountain of heat that consumes you. You can't help but just dance: feeling the beat in your very core. Mixed with your surplus of liquid courage, your body sways and gyrates, lighting a flame you won't be able to put out in Kafka. Her smile is wide and her eyes flicker toward the couch, meeting an intense amber gaze.

Blade is entertained…more so intrigued with how you can live freely even after your heart weighs you down. The smile on your face doesn't falter — it only grows and gleams and he can't stop watching you dance.

Should he take Kafka’s place? He wants to take Kafka’s place.

It should be his hands on your waist, his lips on your ears, his words making you laugh—“Ah, I’m exhausted,”

You plop down beside him with an exasperated groan. He almost jumps out of his skin when you appear, and looking up at Kafka who towers over the pair of you, he can tell this is only the beginning. Her smile is warm but all-telling: whatever idea she has brewing in her head is coming to fruition tonight.

“I’ll be back. Take care of her for me, Bladie,” she shoots him a wink. He almost doesn't know what to do. Should he talk to you? Take you to bed?

“Blade?” Your voice is so small, so cute. You're quiet beneath the jumble of sounds crammed in your apartment but he can pick you out amongst the masses. He's never heard you address him before and the way his name leaves your mouth…he’s always going to replay it in his head forever. “…Y-yeah?”

He doesn't stutter but fuck, you make him nervous.

Breathing out airily, you turn your head to him. “…Do you and Kafka date?”

“No.” His answer is straight and immediate. Must be a sore subject…

“Oh…” “Why do you ask?” He knows why you ask. The same reason everybody else does. “Dunno. You guys just seem…close.”

“She’s not my type of girl.”

“Oh?” You perk up, now intrigued. “Then, what is your type of girl?”

You. He picks at his nails and almost avoids your eyes. How does he answer this question without freaking you out? Ah…fuck it.

“…You.” He’s dying on the inside but at least you're drunk—you’re not going to remember this so it won't be that bad. “Really?”

Your tone pitches up as you adjust your position. You lean your head against your hand now, opting to look him in his eyes. His attention feels nice and hearing that somebody insanely attractive wants you. You make him nervous, making him twiddle his fingers, and his cheeks dust rosy. That's a type of flattery that you can't make up.

“Yeah,” he says matter-of-factly. As if it's so obvious that he likes girls like you.

“What about me do you like?”

“Oh, uh, I don't know…” he trails off. He suddenly remembers the solo cup he abandoned earlier in the night and picks it up off the floor. He’s going to need a serious buzz to bear his dirty laundry to the wind. “…everything?” He poses it like a question — as though your reaction would gauge the validity.

Your face was brighter and painted in a flustered manner. “Thank you,” is all you can say without word-vomiting.

“What are you two talking about?” Kafka breaks up your tension, handing you another full cup and weaving her way onto the couch. She takes a seat right behind you, effectively spooning you. She takes a look at Blade over your shoulder, noticing the blush that paints his cheeks and the refusal to look in your direction.

Downing big swigs of your mystery drink, you shake your head. “Oh, nothing…” You sing, giving Blade an obvious reassuring wink that Kafka laughs at. “Guess I should leave you two to it, huh?”

“To what?” You ask coyly. You giggle bubbly, hiding your grin behind your cup. Kafka gives you a look, “I’m interrupting, aren't I? It’s okay to push me away.”

“We didn't do anything yet!!”

“Yet?” Kafka and Blade exchange glances - a series of looks that only mean one thing.

You slap a hand over your mouth, laughing into your palm drunkenly. Your mind is hazy and covered in static. That's not what you meant to say— “Well, I mean…”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean? You playing to run off with Bladie later?”

While that would be great and you aren't completely unopposed…“We were just talking.”

Kafka shrugs, dropping the topic. You’re determined to preserve the privacy of your conversation until the very end. Well, anyway, there are other methods of getting the show on the road.

Her brief time away from the pair of you was spent curating a queue of songs on Silver’s phone — songs she knows you like, songs she knows Blade likes, and songs she knows your inebriated bodies will like. Full of bass, full of sensuality, full of dirty innuendos that get your core filled with butterflies and your head filled with fantasies. She took it upon herself to mix up a concoction strong enough to wipe out a village of Pilgrims and your inhibitions.

From the moment your mother mentioned staying with you, Kafka thought of you. You’re a staple goody-two-shoes, held down to Earth with a strict upbringing and a perfectionist mindset. You were always eager for more, wide eyes watching as she and her friends explored all types of realms unbeknownst to you.

It’s her way of setting you free and paying you back. All those times you covered for her, all those times you took care of her after a long night out, and even now, taking her in when you have no reason to — it’s her way of saying thank you. Giving you the release you’ve been clawing for since she met you; giving you the release you deserve.

Blade is perfect for you. He's the type of guy to send your mother into cardiac arrest but the type of guy to love you right. He's not a man of many words but of many actions — a crafter, a creator, a provider, a carer. What you need is stability, something in scarce supply ever since your parents split up; but you also need someone to fix. That can't be Kafka, it won't be her.

She's going to hand you the tools to set you free, but it's up to you to forge your way out.

This box of safety you guard yourself in is coming down tonight. The burden of finding the perfect, golden guy, being the perfect, golden girl, and living a perfect, golden life is shriveling by the minute, each alcoholic sip you take singeing its weight.

The sultry beat of the next song punches through the atmosphere. The vibe of the party seems to slow down: the chatter lowers itself to background noise, bodies move longingly and languidly, and the lights seem dimmer. Your body feels heavier too, slumping forward on the couch to where your forehead collides with Blade’s knee.

His hands are quick to slip under your arms, helping you sit up straight. Kafka rubs a supportive hand in circles on your back, “You alright, little mouse?”

You look at the man in front of you, his silhouette slowly coming into focus. With his hair freed down his back and toned body dressed in his usual comfortable loungewear, he looks good. So fucking good with the worried look on his face.

“Hey, I got you,” he states.

In a second your strength is replenished and you muster the courage to lean in, stealing a kiss from him. It’s unexpected, sloppy, and tastes a whole hell of a lot like liquor…but, fuck, does it feel good.

He doesn't know what to do with his hands, choosing to remove them from beneath your arms and rehome them on your waist. The initial shock dissipates and his body naturally leads into your kiss, his eyes closing after taking in the image of an amused Kafka.

You whimper into his mouth, eager to climb onto his lap. Your hands roughly tangle in his hair, pulling his face unimaginably closer as if you were trying to consume him whole. The feeling of his slightly chapped lips against your glossed ones is like heaven - even better as he gets to re-slick them with his tongue.

It’s like the world around you doesn't exist anymore. Time could cease to exist and it wouldn't faze you because you have everything you need beneath you. The warmth of another person, the kisses of pure desire, the hands of desperation…it all rests in Blade and he delivers it unto you. It's all that matters right now, all you could ever wish for — forget Jing Yuan, your mother, whatever stressors have been weighing you down. It's insignificant, it doesn't matter, not when Blade sucks your tongue and his hands grab the fat of your ass.

It doesn't take much to escalate the situation with the amount of alcohol and stress in your body. It needs to all come out.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Kafka practically pulls you two apart, holding your hand and hoisting you to your feet. “Let’s get you to bed,”

You grumble like a petulant child, holding your other hand out for Blade to grab. He’s quick to slip your hand into his. “I don't wanna go to bed…”

Leading you through the myriad of people, Kafka laughs, “Don’t worry. We’re not going to sleep.”

You giggle at her words, the meaning not fully processing in your hazy head. You miss her innuendos the way you always have, focusing on Blade. His arm wraps around your waist to stabilize you with Kafka’s hand locked in yours. It’s intimate, it’s nice, and though you can't see the heat burn in his skin in this darkness, you can feel it with how close he is to you.

Kafka leads the three of you into your room, flickering your light on and closing the door behind you all. She locks it while you basically drag Blade to your bed.

You're more abrasive when you're drunk: grabbing Blade by the fabric of his shirt into another sloppy kiss. It’s amusing to watch, Kafka’ll give you that. But that's not the image she had in mind.

“Easy tiger,” she purrs, sitting behind you on the bed. You both catch your breaths, looking at each other with small smiles. There's a spark of desire in the room, latching onto any and everything and setting it ablaze. It’s hot and palpable and you need to set it out. “Let’s take our time, yeah?”

It doesn't register what she meant by that until her hands are fondling your chest and her chin rests on your shoulder. “Mmh…” she moans, feeling your nipples harden through your dress, “We’ve been waiting a real long time for this, haven't we, Bladie?”

He finds himself at a loss for words, swallowing thickly and keeping his eyes trained to you. “Yeah…”

“Why don't you come show her, then?” Kafka instructs, fluttering her eyes up to him. He doesn't need much encouragement to catch your bobbing head with his palm, leaning in and taking the lead in your kiss.

Under his behest, the kisses are softer, tamer, but filled with just as much—if not more—fire as before. He takes his time in carefully traversing your mouth with his tongue — completely contrasting from the kisses you gave him previously. You were taking a page from the book of Jing Yuan, using how he kissed you as a guideline for the basis. But that's not what you wanted. What you wanted from the very beginning was for him to take his time: to savor you down to every detail until your lips bruised and swelled, then move on to the rest of your body with passion.

Blade’s kisses were heavy with passion and need - as if he, too, was holding onto a package full of burdens.

As he moves down your jaw and neck, Kafka’s hands travel down to the hem of your dress, slipping under and gripping your bare sides. Her hands are cold and you flinch at the feeling, but it soon feels nice as her hands slide to cup your boobs under your bra. Your head falls back on her shoulder, allowing Blade more access to the expanse of your neck.

Your hips pathetically gyrate against the bed, receiving minimal friction that aids you in no way. It only makes you needier.

Blade pulls away to let Kafka pull your dress over your head, revealing the pretty, matching white set you have on underneath. You so obviously wore this with Jing Yuan in mind, and it irritates Blade that he was ever worthy enough to you to warrant such an ensemble. It was never right, never fair — but he has you now, and he doesn't plan on letting you go.

Kafka takes the initiative and unclips your bra, tossing the undergarment to the floor alongside your dress. You're pushed flat onto the mattress where she takes a moment to remove her crop top, leaning over you in her black lace bra.

She places a chaste kiss on your lips leaving your eyes to widen — watching with blown pupils as she lowers herself to your chest and darts her tongue toward your pebbled nipple. You drawl out a whine, your body curling up in response. She swirls the nub, dragging her teeth lightly on it and leaving you hissing and whimpering. All the while, Blade strips down to his underwear, tossing his long hair to the back and palming the tent in his pants.

You turn your head to your left and spot him, your face cringing in pleasure. You stretch your arms toward him and he complies, letting your hands find the sides of his head and pull him in for another kiss.

An agile hand slithers beneath the thin band of your panties, a slender finger slipping between your labia and running through your folds. You moan out into Blade’s mouth, hips jerking away and legs kicking into the air. “Your sensitive pussy’s all wet…” Kafka observes. She lays her head right below your boob, focusing her attention between your legs.

“‘S making a mess through your panties.” She laughs when you moan out again, her finger traveling down to your entrance and prodding.

“Kafka…” you moan, pulling away from Blade.

“Let’s see how long it takes to make you cum,” it’s so obvious that you're not going to last. Your cunt is soaked and only gets wetter by the minute, and her teasing ministrations have you moaning like a bitch in heat.

She adjusts her position, peeling down your panties and leaving them around your ankles lazily. The draft in your room whistles against your soaked folds - a chill runs up your spine as a result. She spits onto her hand as if it's needed, diving straight toward your clit. The sensitive bud is attacked mercilessly: heavy pressure weighing on it as Kafka draws figure-eights. There's a sticky clicking sound that arises and it makes her smile, taking a look at you and Blade over her shoulder.

You suck on his thumb, his left hand rubbing from your neck to your chest. Your whimpers are contained behind his digit, but your watery eyes say all. “You hear that?” She suddenly speeds up her actions, making your back arch and voice sing out around Blade’s finger.

And like a professional, she slows down, inching her finger back down to your hole. It slips in with ease and she sighs. “Dunno if she’s gonna be able to take you, Bladie,”

She pushes her middle finger in knuckle-deep, twisting her finger as she slithers her ring finger in beside it. Blade’s finger in your mouth does nothing to pacify you any longer - her fingers in your cunt bringing out the sweetest moans they’ve collectively ever heard. “She’s so tight…squeezing around my fingers.”

You writhe around in Blade’s hold and your arms brush over his hard-on every now and then. He winces and hisses, bucking into your touch. He needs to preoccupy himself before he cums in his pants—deciding to aid Kafka. His hand tentatively crawls toward your clit, rougher, thicker fingers pinching your bud. It has you huffing out a wail, balling your fist weakly on his thigh.

They keep up a steady pace in tandem, building up your orgasm with ease. Your body is reactive and receptive to their touch: falling apart when your core gets tight and even hotter.

“C’mon, little mouse…let it out for me,” Kafka encourages. She places sparse kisses against your thighs, the print of her lips faintly left in the color of her lipstick. “I can feel it. You wanna cum so bad,”

“Do it,” she murmurs between kisses, “let it out.”

It’s like your body is under her control. Your orgasm builds and crashes in a matter of seconds. Your hole spasms around her fingers but she never stops scissoring them inside of you, rubbing against your sweet spot and effectively overstimming you. You wail heartily, wrapping your arms around Blade’s arm and stopping him from continuing.

Kafka doesn't stop finger-fucking you until you come down from your high and endlessly whimper. She smears your release all over your pussy, bringing her coated fingers to her mouth.

Exaggeratedly, she sucks your juices off of her fingers, making sure to rock her hips against nothing and moan at the taste. “Mmfh,” and with a pop, she removes her digits from her mouth.

She hovers over you trying to catch your breath, capturing your face in her hand and squeezing your cheeks, forcing your lips to part. She lets her saliva drop from her mouth to yours, backing up with a smile. She stops you from swallowing: “Share,” she says.

You and Blade’s lips meet, smushing and mixing yours and Kafka’s spit. It gets messier, sloppier, and it's completely inefficient due to your awkward position but you comply nonetheless.

When you part, Kafka is making quick work of you and flips you over to your stomach. You yelp and giggle, looking over your shoulder and meeting her wide smile. Her index finger boops your nose and she turns to Blade, presumably signaling for him to get up. He stands up, hands grabbing your ankles and adjusting you perfectly.

Kafka slaps your tailbone softly, using her other hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Ass up,” she instructs, and you listen.

You wiggle your butt in the air with a laugh, laying your head on Kafka’s lap. Her pants are pretty comfortable and you find yourself becoming relaxed — while behind you Blade is pulling his boxers down and freeing his dick.

The last time you had actual sex was months ago…as in the middle to end of your freshman year. It was a forgotten one-night stand you met through a dating app - but he’s no match for Blade.

He presses the tip to your entrance, just teasing. Your heavy eyelids fly up, and you immediately brace yourself. You barely felt him, but he's big. You know it.

“Fuck…” he hisses. He wedges his cock between your folds, feeling your wetness smear against him. You feel his width, his length, his weight—he’s a lot less girthy than what you felt with your hands with Yuan, but he makes up for it in length.

If he keeps dragging his dick between your folds he’s going to cum. He has to physically stop himself, sucking in a deep breath because it's now or nothing.

Pressing the tip in you both gasp — and your sounds only drawl out until he completely bottoms out. He's so deep, and you're so wet. He's so big, and you're so tight. Dribbles of your previous orgasm and endless arousal seep out around him, and he nearly moans at the sight.

Getting a good grip on your ass, he spreads your cheeks, pushing you forward while pulling out. It’s a languid motion, edging you for the heart-stopping drop he imposes when you're filled fully again. Your moans come out with every collision and they're full of air. Your chest is tight and all of your air is flying out of your mouth. He's rendering you breathless, but it's nothing compared to how you're making him feel.

Blade begins to gradually increase his pace to satiate this intense hunger. He fucking needs you.

Now that he has a taste of you, his head is clear and his body is in nirvana. His strokes are precise and sharp. He pistons out of you with control, deep grunts skipping out of his mouth. It’s like your pussy is made for him: squeezing him just right in a tight hug and drooling endlessly.

Splat splat splat! The wet sound echoes from your collisions, battling against the barrage of moans that escape your mouth. “Oh, f-f—” you stutter over the curse, clawing at Kafka’s legs. She coos at you, rubbing your face. “You can take it, you got it. Good girl,”

“C-can’t! ‘M gonna cum!” You sob, burying your face into her leg.

Your body hasn't recovered from your previous orgasm, still reeling and the added pleasure Blade stacks on doesn't help. You feel like you're going to explode, wailing and drooling all over the place as your hips gain a mind of their own, fucking back against Blade and chasing your release.

“Think you can squirt for us?”

Oh, hell yeah. If there's one thing Blade wants to do for you, it's to ruin anybody else for you. He wants a monopoly over your body — he wants you to know him as your main source of Heaven on Earth and if there’s one way to do that…

In three swift movements, you're flipped back onto your back, legs on his shoulders. He slips back in with ease, wasting no time in pounding your cunt. He’s fiercer, more determined: drawn up with furrowed brows and his bottom lip snatched between his teeth, Blade becomes a different person.

There's more need, more fervor, an insatiable feeling that’s driven by your warm pussy around him and the idea of being the first person to make you squirt—the only person to make you squirt.

Kafka wraps her hand around your throat, squeezing the sides, and watches with pure amusement as your eyes grow foggier and your sounds grow choppier. They're just using your body, pushing you to the very limit and it's working so well.

A new fire has been lit under your ass and you feel alive — you're on top of the world and nothing but a grand finale can bring you down.

“G-got tighter…” Blade grunts out. Kafka turns to you, seeing how even though your eyes and mouth spill over, you still manage to curl your lips into a toothy grin. “Think she likes it,”

“You like this, huh? Being choked out while getting fucked silly?” God, yes. You love it—you’re on cloud nine.

In this position, Blade can fuck you deeper. He’s effectively digging you out, the slight left-leaning curve of his cock hitting your g-spot again and again. Quakes rack through your body again; it’s coming.

They both can tell and it's getting sloppy. Blade is holding back from blowing his load deep in you, and Kafka? Well, Kafka’s happy to play the supporting role - now letting go of your neck and wedging her head between you and Blade.

With her ass in the air, Kafka dives into the perfect arch to let her lips wrap around your clit, taking the neglected bud into her warm mouth with a long moan. The vibrations jolt through your body and you nearly scream out, thrashing above them.

It's too much, your body can't handle it. You start to crumble: your stomach gnarling and tears streaming down your face. “IcantIcantIcant—” Your hands frantically try to push Blade away but to no avail.

His grunts grow more animalistic as he puts all of his body weight into his thrusts, slowing down. He goes harder, making your body jostle with each grind of his hips. His face is knitted in pleasure, his porcelain skin damp with sweat and blemished in a crimson brushing. Kafka abusing your puffy clit with her tongue has you and Blade losing your minds, collectively falling apart.

This is it. This is pure, unadulterated bliss.

White hot heat surges through your body as you shake. Your thighs quiver on Blade’s shoulders, and Kafka can feel the stiffness of your clit. She slithers back to her seated position, her eyes never leaving the passion-filled affair occur.

Words you try to form only come out as broken squeaks and even Blade can't hold back any longer, letting out a string of blissed-out curse words as you clamp around him. The orgasm that begins to pour out of you is paired with a force that’s all but pushing him out.

You sob and he moans out — one last thrust breaking the floodgates. A clear stream shoots from between your legs, spurting at his abs. All the while, his orgasm comes over him, filling you with all his heavy balls had been storing.

You can't even move. Your chests heave for big breaths, unable to catch them.

It’s a high you can't come down from — filled with a surplus of electricity, liquor, and desire. You needed that more than anything, you needed him more than anything.

┄┄

A small yawn leaps from your mouth when your eyes begrudgingly open. What time even is it…?

You swing your arm over behind you in search of the device — but you're instead met with flesh. You're suddenly wide awake, sitting straight up only to realize you're completely naked. You turn to your side and there lays Blade, snoring softly into your pillow.

What the hell happened last night…

You jump out of bed, find something stray to throw on and feel an incredible ache between your legs. Clearly, you had quite the night. You can't concisely remember what happened last night and right now is definitely not the time to rehash your decisions.

You're not completely opposed to doing whatever you did with Blade because…well, he's Blade. He's always been attractive to you, and at least he’s willing to treat you like a person.

You're not going to wake him up so you leave him a note: scribbling your number on a random piece of paper and scurrying out of the room.

You need to find your phone and get some air—“Good morning. Took you a while to get up, huh.”

Kafka sits at the bar, stuffing her mouth with a spoonful of cereal. Does she know that you and Blade…

“Oh, yeah. Hey. Good morning…” you awkwardly puff out. Your voice is hoarse and you cringe at the sound, placing your hands on your chest with concern. “I’m gonna go um…get some food,”

“I made some eggs earlier if you want some—” “—I’m good. I could use the air, anyway.”

Kafka shrugs, turning back to her cereal. You rush out of your apartment in a blur, slamming the door and leaving Kafka in a brief silence.

Moments after you left, Blade emerges from the hallway. “Morning sleepy head. How’d you sleep?” She teases.

He nods, rubbing his eye. He takes a seat next to Kafka, holding up a piece of paper between two fingers. “Woke up to this,”

“The hell is that?” Kafka questions, spinning her spoon around in her bowl.

He flips the paper over, “Her number.”

A smile breaks across her face and she slaps his arm playfully. “Look at you!”

Blade fights off a coy smile, twirling the paper between his fingers. He waited so long, so patiently—and it was all worth it. He would do it again and again. All just to make you his.

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[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke x drunk!reader

luke decides to take care of you when he notices how drunk you are a party, you didn’t know how much you needed him until he showed you so.

warnings: drunk!reader, protective!luke, lil violence, use of yn, allusion to s3x

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The melody from a stolen radio emerged through the humid night air, barely audible over the loud laughter and shouted conversations of the older campers reunited in the woods. The stars offered little illumination, replaced by the flickering glow of a bonfire fueled by firewood. The air was heavy and hot, filled with the scent of chips, spilled beer, and teenage rebellion. This was a rare ocasion for the senior campers, a chance to forget about monstrous threats and drakon training for a night.

Luke nestled in the shadows of a nearby oak tree, holding a way too warm can of beer to drink now, and listened to his friends, trade their usual brand of mischievous gossip. A comfortable camaraderie settled over him, a welcome respite from the weight of responsibility that pressed down on him as a counselor.

"Did you see Lucy practically drooling over Malcolm after Ally dumped him?" Travis snickered, nudging Connor with his elbow.

Connor snorted, barely containing his laughter. "Ouch, sister drama. Ally must be thinking about drowning her in cheap perfume"

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. The Aphrodite cabin drama was always entertaining, even if a little predictable. He glanced around the clearing, his gaze sweeping over the other campers. A group of Ares cabin warriors were engaged in a play-fight, throwing each other to the ground as they groaned and laughed. He spotted Katie Gardner, daughter of Demeter, tending to a small patch of wildflowers. Even at a forbidden party, Katie couldn't resist nurturing something green.

"Hey, Luke" Chris nudged him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You gonna tell us your big secret yet? We all know there's something going on between you and yn"

Luke's smile faltered slightly. "There's nothing to tell" he replied noncommittally, taking a swig of his warm beer, the taste bitter in his tongue. “We’re just friends”

"Oh, come on" Connor pressed, a sly smirk spreading across his face. "We see the way you look at her. Like she's the only girl alive."

Luke rolled his eyes, but a blush crept up his neck under the teasing of his friends. Suddenly, a melodic laugh cut through the din, a sound that sent a jolt through him. It was your laugh, bright and carefree, a stark contrast to the usual reserved demeanor you displayed around camp. He followed the sound, his gaze landing on you amidst a group of campers near the edge of the clearing. But it wasn't your presence that triggered a tightening in his chest. It was the hulking figure of Ares cabin resident, Mark, who stood far too close to you, his arm draped around your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper something that caused another burst of laughter from you.

A sting of jealousy pierced Luke´s insides. He knew it was silly. He and you were nothing more than friends. But still, that doesn’t mean he’s gonna like it when he sees you with some other guy. He watched as you swayed slightly, the red plastic cup clutched loosely in your hand a clear indication of your intoxicated state. Your usually sharp eyes held a glazed look, a vulnerability that made his protective instincts flare.

He saw you and Mark detach from the group, heading deeper into the shadowy woods. There was a part of him that urged him to let you be, to let you enjoy your night. But another, more primal part couldn't shake the image of you, intoxicated and unaware, disappearing into the woods with someone like Mark.

Sighing, Luke pushed himself off the tree trunk. “I´ll be back in a minute” he says to his friends, leaving his can on Travis´ hand. He weaved through the tight and large group of campers, his purpose hardening with each step. You stumbled on a protruding root, giggling at your own clumsiness. Mark steadied you, his hand lingering on your waist in a way that made Luke’s right eye twitch.

"Hey, yn" Luke's voice cut through the air, catching your attention. You turned, your face splitting into a wide, drunken smile.

"Luuuke!" you slurred, swaying towards him with open arms, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Ignoring the glare Mark shot his way, Luke enveloped you in a hug, his nose crinkling at the distinct scent of fruit punch and something a little stronger.

"Whoa there" he chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He could smell the sugary sweetness of your lip gloss. "Easy, tiger."

You giggled, your head lolling against his shoulder. You mumbled something nonsensical, giggling at a private joke only you seemed to understand. Your mascara, usually neatly applied, had smudged slightly at the corners of your eyes. Despite the obvious effects of the alcohol, you were undeniably beautiful, the firelight casting warm shadows on your face. "M'so happpy you´re here! Dance with me!" you yelled as you lift your arms, your voice thick with intoxication. Luke felt a pang of worry. You were far too drunk to be alone in the woods with a boy you barely knew.

"Seems like you've had a few too many tonight, huh?"

"Just having a little fun, Luke" you pouted, the way you said his name sounded funny. "Don't be a all couns-, counselor"

He glanced over your shoulder towards Mark, whose jaw was clenched tight. "Yeah, well, maybe a little too much fun" Luke countered, his voice gaining a hint of firmness, but as softly as possible. "Maybe it's time for you to head back to your cabin, yeah?”

"But Mark was showing me…" you began, but were cut off by Mark's snide voice.

"Mind your own business, Castellan" He growled. Luke narrowed his eyes at the Ares camper, a dangerous glint flickering within them. “This doesn´t concern you”

"She's clearly not in control of herself" Luke retorted, his voice low and cold. "Someone needs to make sure she gets back safely. And it won't be you."

Mark scoffed, a humorless sound. "Says who? Why don't you worry about yourself, Castellan?"

The barb hit a nerve. Luke wasn't drunk, but the implication stung. He wasn't about to get into a debate about his tolerance with this ridiculously big guy.

"Look," Luke said tightly, trying to keep his voice calm, "I'm not trying to cause any trouble. I just—"

"Just what?" Mark interrupted, stepping forward, his chest puffing out in a show of dominance. "Going to swoop in and save the damsel in distress? You think she needs rescuing?"

He shot a pointed look at you, who seemed to be lost in your own world, giggling at some private joke as you covered your mouth. The sight of it only fueled Luke's simmering anger.

"Whether she needs help or not isn't the point" Luke growled, his voice strained. "The point is, she's clearly intoxicated and shouldn't be alone with someone she barely knows."

"Barely knows?" Mark echoed, a sneer twisting his lips. "We were just getting to know each other, weren't we, yn?"

He turned to you, his voice dripping with false sweetness. You blinked at him owlishly, then shrugged, a nonsensical answer escaping your lips.

The sight of it was too much for Luke. His fists clenched at his sides. He knew Mark was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, but it was working. The implication that his concern was fueled by jealousy rather than genuine care was infuriating.

“Now if you excuse us…” Mark pointed out, pulling you to him by your hip as he tried to walk away with you.

But Luke´s had enough. That was the last straw. In a blur of motion, Luke lashed out. He lunged forward, his fist connecting with Mark's nose with a satisfying crunch. Mark stumbled back, roaring in pain, a hand flying up to his now-bleeding nose.

You, however, seemed oblivious to the sudden violence. You blinked at the scene in confusion, your brow creased in a frown as you looked at Mark. "What the-…" your words slurred, lost in the midst of your intoxication.

But before you could form a complete sentence, a wave of fury washed over you. You turned around, shoving Luke hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back a step. "What the fuck, Luke!" you shrieked, your voice laced with a venom that startled him. "Why do you always have to be all over me!?"

The words hit Luke like a physical blow. He wasn't angry at you, not truly. You were clearly out of it, the world a dizzy sight because of whatever it is that you drank. But the accusation stung. Here he was, trying to protect you from a situation you couldn't navigate in your current state, and you saw it as him controlling you.

"yn," he started again, trying to choose his words carefully. "I just-"

"Just what?" you shot back, your voice thick with slurred defiance. "Just what gives you the right to decide what I do?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Luke's heart ached. You were upset, confused, and vulnerable – a dangerous combination amplified by the alcohol coursing through your veins.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you sniffed, walking past him fast, head down and all pouty. “You ruined everything” you mumbled, more to yourself than directly to him, but he still heard. Luke watched you go, a wave of despair washing over him. He'd messed up.

He glanced back at Mark, who was clutching his nose and glaring at him with a mixture of fury and grudging respect. "Look, man" Luke sighed, the fight momentarily draining out of him. "That was a cheap shot, I´m sorry"

Mark grunted, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand. "Yeah, well, you got a nice fist, I must say."

There was a hint of grudging respect in his voice, perhaps because he couldn't deny that Luke's concern for you seemed genuine, or because if he recieved another punch, he'd need his nose surgically reattached.

"I wasn´t gonna do much either" he tried to defend himself. “She can´t even walk straight” Mark mumbled, ponting at you, then he turned away and disappeard into the shadows.

Luke glanced back at your retreating figure. He knew he needed to fix things with you, but for now, all he could do was hope you wouldn't hold his overprotective actions against him. He took a deep breath and started following you, determined to apologize and explain his actions once you were sober enough to listen.

Your walk was more of a drunken sashay, hips swaying precariously with each wobbly step. Luke watched you stumble away, a knot of frustration tightening in his gut. He knew you weren't thinking straight, the alcohol muddling your judgment and turning his concern into a controlling act in your eyes.

"yn" he called after you, his voice laced with a pleading he rarely used. "Wait a minute, please."

You ignored him, your focus solely on putting distance between you and Luke. He quickened his pace, catching up beside you.

"Seriously, stop it" Luke's voice was closer now. "You're going to fall on your face if you keep walking like that."

You stopped short, whirling around to face him. “Will you stop following me? This is embarrasing enough, Luke”

"Embarrassing?" Luke echoed, his voice rising in exasperation. "You're practically falling over drunk! You can't just walk around like this."

"I can handle myself" you slurred, puffing out your chest in a show of false bravery. You wobbled slightly, proving his point.

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look…" he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm not trying to be a jerk. I'm just worried about you. You're clearly hammered, and it's not safe for you to be alone."

You scoffed. "Safe? I'm not a little girl, Luke. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, well, right now you can't even take care of your balance!" he retorted, his patience wearing thin. You wobbled again, nearly toppling over before catching yourself on a nearby tree trunk.

"Just stop following me, okay?" you slurred, your voice thick with a pout. "I don't need this from you"

He sighed as your trembling body swayed precariously, threatening to topple over at any moment. Luke knew arguing with you further would be pointless. You were a force of nature in your current state, fueled by both alcohol and indignation. He needed to take a different approach.

With a resigned sigh, he whipped his denim jacket off in one swift motion. Kneeling before you, he draped it around your waist, the familiar scent of him momentarily grounding you. You blinked at him, a flicker of confusion replacing the anger in your eyes.

"What are you—woah!" you yelped before you could finish your question. In a smooth, practiced motion honed from years of wrestling monstrous opponents, Luke scooped you up effortlessly, hoisting you over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

A surprised shriek erupted from your lips. The world tilted on its axis as you found yourself dangling upside down. The clearing erupted in laughter. A few of the campers who had been watching the whole scene unfold hooted and hollered, their amusement evident. "Careful with that one, Luke!" one of them called out, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Looks like she bites!"

Luke shot him a withering look, his jaw clenched. "Very funny" he muttered, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from the others. His focus was solely on you, the warmth of your body radiating against his back.

“You better put me down!" you shrieked, kicking your legs in the air in a futile attempt to dislodge yourself.

"Not a chance, Short Stuff" Luke called back.

"But I don't want to go back to my cabin yet! The party's just getting started!" You pounded your fists against his back, a feeble attempt at protest. "Seriously, Luke, put me down! I can walk perfectly fine!"

"Uh-huh, you´re right" he said sarcastically, walking down with your full weight on one shoulder as if you were as light as a feather.

You let out a frustrated groan, burying your face on his back. “This so embarrasing!” you cried. You hated that he was right. You were a mess, and the last thing you needed was to stumble around the woods in this state, potentially attracting unwanted attention.

Despite your annoyance, a strange sense of security settled over you as Luke carried you. The rhythmic thud of his footsteps against the earth and the warmth of his hands radiating against your legs as he held you were oddly comforting.

The walk to your cabin, however, was far from peaceful. You continued to mumble incoherent protests, punctuated by occasional swats at his back and what felt like an eternity of "Put me down!"s. But Luke remained undeterred, his jaw set in a determined line.

Finally, after what felt like an hour —but was probably closer to five minutes—, you reached your cabin. Relief washed over Luke as he gently lowered you onto the porch, careful not to jostle you too much.

You glared at Luke, your arms crossed defiantly across your chest. He couldn’t tell if your eyes were truly filled with anger of constantly trying to focus on his face so your world wouldn’t keep spinning.

"Well, aren't you prince charming himself, Mr. Castellan" you huffed, voice thick with a playful slur. "Kidnapping girls and all"

Luke, however, seemed unfazed. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. "Just get in, sleepyhead" he countered, his eyes gleaming under the moonlight as he opened the unlocked door to your cabin.

You pouted, a childish expression along with the stomping of your feet on the wooden porch. "I could have walked!" you protested weakly, knowing full well it was a lie.

He ignored your protest, stepping past you and gently maneuvering you towards your bed, placing his hand on your lower back as you walked. The cabin was, as expected, empty. Your half-siblings, ever the social butterflies, were undoubtedly wreaking havoc at the party you were now forbidden to attend.

You felt lonely for a second, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth that spread through you as Luke helped you onto the bed. You wanted to be furious with him, to unleash the full force of your drunken anger. But the lingering warmth of his touch on your legs and back, the way he so effortlessly hoisted you like a defiant princess, somehow muddled your outrage. The thought was absurd and yet undeniably attractive.

He knelt down in front of you once you sat at the edge of your bed. You could smell the faint scent of woodsmoke and pine needles clinging to his clothes, a comforting aroma that filled your nosestrils instantly.

With a gentle hand, he reached out your calve and started unlacing your boots, his touch surprisingly tender. You watched him in a daze, your head spinning slightly. The world seemed to tilt on its axis again, everything blurring at the edges except for Luke's face. You watched him in fascination as he repeated the process with your other foot.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and groaned, a weak sound that escaped your lips.

Luke, sensing your distress, immediately stopped what he was doing. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he placed one hand on your knee.

You opened your eyes, blinking slowly. "Yeah, just a little…" you trailed off, searching for the right word. "Woozy" you finally managed.

Then, he stood up and looked around. His gaze landed on a package of makeup wipes on your bedside table. Without a word, he picked them up and returned to stand in front of you.

"You might want to clean some of this off" he said, holding up a wipe and gesturing to the smudged mascara beneath your eye.

You were speechless. No one had ever offered to do something like this for you before. A warmth bloomed in your chest, chasing away the remnants of your anger.

He held the wipe out to you, but you didn't take it. Instead, you found yourself blurting out; "Can you do it for me?"

He didn't hesitate. He fully unfolded the wipe as he lowered to you just a little to continue the process of taking care of you, his touch tender.

He was wiping the makeup from your face with a meticulousness that surprised you. You sat there, mesmerized, feeling strangely vulnerable under his watchful gaze even though you kept your eyes closed. The alcohol, combined with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, had rendered you uncharacteristically quiet.

"You didn't have to punch him, you know" you mumbled, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He kept as concentraded in his task as he was before. "Who?" he asked, though you both knew exactly who you were talking about.

"Mark" you clarified.

Luke sighed, going for your other eye. "He was… well, he was clearly taking advantage of your state" he explained patiently.

"How do you know?" you challenged, a sliver of defiance still clinging to your voice.

"Because I know you, yn" he said softly, his gaze locking with yours. "You think I would´ve done what I did if you were sober?"

His words hit you like a wave of realization. Shame washed over you, hot and prickly. You hadn't realized how vulnerable you were, how easily manipulated under the influence of your drink. “There we go” He stopped his movements eyes. “All clean” he announced as he placed the dirty wipes over your bedside table.

"I-, I'm sorry" you mumbled, looking down at your lap, playing with the edges of your miniskirt. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

He knelt down again, this time untangling his denim jacket from around your waist. As he spoke, his voice was laced with a quiet understanding. "Listen, I know you might be mad at me for… well, everything. But I wasn't trying to ruin your night. I was just worried about you. You were drunk… you are drunk” he said playfully, reaching out and squeezing your cheek as if you were a little kid. “and that Ares guy –, didn't exactly seem like he wanted to be nice, and I can’t handle that. You can´t go around with people you don´t know, you know better than that" his voice dropped again.

He was right, of course. You were a demigod, trained to be aware of your surroundings and the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Yet, tonight, you'd thrown all caution to the wind, blinded by the effects of vodka and fruit juice and the fleeting attention of a stranger.

A pang of guilt washed over you. You squeezed his hand, a silent apology for your earlier outburst.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return, his lips curving into a small smile. “Besides, we´re friends, right?”

The word felt cold, heavy with unspoken meaning. Friends. You and Luke. The idea was both familiar and exhilarating, a spark igniting somewhere deep within you. You didn´t say anything, but Luke didn´t need you to.

He stood up again and leaned down, surprising you by brushing a light kiss on your forehead. It was a chaste gesture, meant to be comforting, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

"Go get some sleep" he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'll check on you in the morning."

He started to turn away, but before he could take a step, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait" you stammered, your cheeks flushing crimson.

Luke turned back, a questioning eyebrow raised. In that moment, the alcohol-fueled bravado that had propelled you through the night seemed to evaporate. You were left with a newfound shyness, a sudden awareness of the intimate atmosphere that had settled between you.

"Can you..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "can you stay a little?"

Luke stared at you for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He didn't answer immediately. He stood there for a long moment, studying your face, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions.

Emboldened by a newfound courage, you stood up from the bed. You were still a little unsteady on your feet, the remnants of alcohol making your movements slightly wobbly.

Reaching out, you stopped in front of him, his height suddenly a towering presence. You closed the gap between you two in a second. Now you were standing impossibly close, your body brushing against his.

Looking up at him, you were struck by how tall he seemed, how broad his shoulders were. A wave of dizziness washed over you as you registered the clean scent of his cologne, one that you hadn’t noticed before, a scent that suddenly seemed incredibly appealing.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely a breath, your eyes tracing the outline of his lips. "When did you get so tall?"

He chuckled softly, a low rumble that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. "Maybe you just haven't noticed before" he replied, his voice a husky murmur.

The playful banter momentarily broke the tension, but the air between you still crackled as heavy as it could. Your gaze drifted back to his lips, now so close you could almost feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

They were full, inviting, and in a moment of drunken bravery, you found yourself leaning closer, your lips hovering just a breath away from his. "You smell good" you mumbled, your voice slurred but filled with a newfound confidence.

Luke swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. He was dangerously close to you, the heat radiating from your body a tangible thing in the cool cabin air. His muscles tensed, a battle raging within him between concern and a growing desire.

You reached out and toched his thigh, your fingers brushing against the worn fabric of his jean. Slowly, teasingly, you trailed your hand upward, until you reached his belt, hooking one finger to it, and you pulled him even closer to you. The movement was subtle but undeniably provocative, sending a jolt of electricity through Luke's body.

He stood frozen, mesmerized by the sudden boldness you exuded. This wasn't the girl he knew, the playful friend who teased him mercilessly. This was a stranger cloaked in the familiar, and the effect was intoxicating.

His own breath came out in a ragged sigh. Every rational part of him screamed at him to step away, to put some distance between the two of you. You were clearly inebriated, and taking advantage of that wouldn't be right.

But another part of him, a more primal part, yearned to close the gap between you, just a breath away. He had always found you attractive, drawn to your quick wit and fiery spirit. But the line between friendship and something more had always felt too blurry to cross.

Now, with the inhibitions lowered by alcohol, that line seemed to have vanished entirely.

He leaned in closer, the space between your faces shrinking with each passing moment. The scent of your coconut perfume and something uniquely you filled his senses, further muddling his already clouded judgment.

"yn" he began, his voice husky, a warning more for himself than for you.

"Stay" you whispered, your lips still hovering tantalizingly close to his. The raw need in your eyes mirrored the war raging within him. “Stay and make me yours, Luke. Please”

His hand reached up, cupping your jaw as his gaze locked with yours. You tilted your head into his touch, a silent invitation.

"We can't do this, gorgeous” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "You're not sober”

"I don't care" you interrupted, your voice thick with a desperation that surprised even you.

Luke felt his resolve crumble. He wanted this, just as much as you did. The idea of kissing you, of finally exploring the feelings that had simmered beneath the surface for so long, of touching you, feeling you, was undeniably tempting.

But a sliver of sanity remained. He knew that taking advantage of you in this state would be a betrayal of your trust, something he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for.

"But I do" he countered, his voice firm yet gentle. "If I'm doing this with you, I want to do it right. When you're sober and can make a real choice. When you can remember"

A wave of disappointment washed over you, but a tiny voice in the back of your head, untouched by the alcohol's haze, whispered its thanks. He was right. This wasn't the way you wanted things to happen.

So you nodded slowly, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Alright" you mumbled, letting go of his belt loop. “Can you still stay a little longer, though?”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss to your cheek, the touch feather-light, sending another wave of warmth through you.

"Go to sleep, trouble" he chuckled, the sound warm and familiar.

You walked back onto the bed, a strange mix of disappointment and relief swirling within you. As you drifted off to sleep, Luke pulled a chair beside the bed and settled down, keeping a silent vigil over you.

You immediately fell asleep, your mind could be running as fast as it could, but your body told another story. He watched you sleep for a moment, then left and went back to the party.

On his way back, he couldn’t help it but smirk to himself, a gushing and warm feeling rushing on his chest as he realized how close he had you. How his feeling were not so oblivious to you, and now that he knew, he wouldn’t have to work so hard to have you, or hide any longer.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #aphrodite #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo smut #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

[celiastjamesoscar]

No Hard Feelings

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: Tara makes plans with you to go to dinner and watch a movie, but she forgets and can’t go. So she sends Sam in her place

Warnings: slight spoiler for No Hard Feelings (small scene, no significance to plot), light cussing, mentions of Ghostface attacks

Read part 2 here

Word count: 7.6k

Tara sat on the floor of her and Sam’s apartment with a mountain of papers spread around her. To her demise, her past self thought it would have been a good idea to put off her month and a half project so she could-in her words-"be older so, therefore, wiser,” and she would get a better grade on it. Now, her present self wishes she could go back in time and politely murder her past self, as she would have to stay up all hours of the night even to get a passing grade on her project. She could call Y/N and ask for help, but she knew that the girl was probably busy doing who knows what.

Since the move to New York City, Tara found it hard to make friends she could trust; the only real people she did trust were the Meeks-Martin twins, Anika, her roommate Quinn, Y/N, and Sam.

Tara met Y/N when she first moved to New York through Anika, as she was her roommate. Anika introduced her to the core four one night while they watched movies and swam at their shared apartment. When Y/N first met everyone, she immediately clicked with the group, except Sam.

Sam was naturally standoffish towards new people, especially Y/N. Sam didn’t know if she disliked the girl because she shared the same love for horror as Mindy, her undeniable charm, her beautiful features, or the fact she was a fucker that fed off of Tara’s little fucker energy. So together, they just become this giant mass of fucker energy that wreaks havoc on innocents. Sam tries her best to make sure that her and Tara are not left alone together-God only knows what mischief they would get up to if left unattended-but that usually meant she was the one keeping an eye on them. From dragging them out of karaoke bars to forcefully stopping them from shooting fireworks at each other, Sam has seen enough to know she wasn’t too much of a fan of Y/N.

On the other hand, Tara and Sam haven’t always had the best relationship (Sam left her for five years with her alcoholic mother), but they loved each other dearly, and everyone knew that. However, Tara does things to get under Sam’s skin for fun. For example: going to frat parties after Sam told her not to, getting too drunk at said parties, throwing up because of the alcohol after Sam specifically told her not to, waiting until the last minute to do projects, and the one Sam hated the most, trying to set her up with her friends. Tara would spend days writing out plans of setting Sam up with her friends, pouring hours she should have spent doing homework into Sam’s love life.

Sam found it funny how Tara and Mindy worked together to try and set Sam up with someone, even though she never went out with the people they set her up with. She also admired their dedication to it, but she would never tell them that. Tara would invite some of Chad’s football friends over for a game night and hope one would hit it off with Sam, but Sam shot down every guy. Eventually, Tara got fed up with it and asked Sam, “Are you ever going to give a guy a chance?” Sam just looked at Tara with the most trustworthy eyes as she spoke, “I’ll never give a guy a chance again.” And with that, Tara stopped trying to get Sam with men.

Since that conversion, Mindy had been Sam’s “wingman” in picking up women, and it was not going well. At all. They’d go to a bar every other weekend, Mindy would point out a woman that Sam might be interested in, and immediately get shot down.

“What about her, Sam? She’s pretty, plays the guitar, and keeps looking over at you?”

“No.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘no’?”

“No, she looks like she bites.”

“Biting can be good in some instances.”

“No.”

“Okay then, moving on. What about her-”

“No.”

And it continued like this until Mindy eventually had enough of it. “Dude, your sister refuses to give anyone I point out a chance! At first, I thought she was wary of getting romantical with someone because of he-who-shall-not-be-named, but now I think she’s doing it out of spite.” Mindy complained to Tara over a game of Uno one night.

“She’s not doing it out of spite; she’s doing it because she knows she’s getting set up.” Anika butted in while placing down a blue five. “You just need to set her up with someone without her knowing it’s a setup.”

And at that, Tara and Mindy shared a telepathic thought when their eyes made contact and simultaneously reached for their phones. Not reading the room, Chad threw down a blue draw two while standing up and yelling, “Uno!”

Mindy sent him a glare before speaking, “Do you want me to call her, or should you?”

“I’ll call her; just wait for me!” Tara exclaimed as she left the table with her phone in hand, walking about ten feet from the group before dialing Y/N’s number. Mindy and Tara’s plan began to hatch that night.

Tara would invite Y/N to the apartment everyday. She would even invite her over if she had somewhere else to be later that night, leaving the poor girl alone with either Sam or Quinn. Y/N was rather fond of Quinn; she enjoyed the redhead’s stories about her strange hookups and they played a very intense game of Blackjack on occasion. On the other hand, she hated being left alone with Sam. Sam would either not say anything or just glare at Y/N; she didn’t know which one was worse.

Sometimes when Y/N was over, Tara would excuse herself to leave her and Sam alone for long periods. Naturally, the two of them would sit in awkward silence while the tv played in the background. They would occasionally discussed what was on TV, but that never lasted more than four sentences.

Of course, Y/N was drawn to Sam: her beautiful tan skin that she sometimes dreamed of stroking, those beautiful brown eyes that reminded her of old brick libraries and vintage books she sometimes got lost in, and her protectiveness for her sister.

She's Everything. Y/N’s just Ken.

In the present, Tara groaned and rolled around the floor, “Why do I do this every time?” She whined while looking at her papers.

“I know; I thought you would have learned your lesson by now,” Sam joked as she watched her little sister dramatically roll around the floor. “I told you to spend at least twenty minutes a day working on it, but nope. You said you would be smarter by putting it off, and now look at you.”

Surprised by Sam’s words, Tara quickly sat up and looked at her sister before falling back onto the floor with an exaggerated groan. Sam rolled her eyes at Tara’s actions and sat on the couch. “What are you working on?” Sam questioned as she picked up a piece of paper with chemical formulas.

“I’m supposed to show what acid, like from soda, does to teeth. But I hate chemistry, and I’m seriously considering dropping this class.” Tara stated as she picked herself up off of the floor and stretched. As she was stretching, there was a knock at the door.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it. You just finished your project.” Sam said as she got up and walked towards the door, ignoring the slight grumble of words Tara let out as she sat back down on the floor.

As she approached the door, Sam looked out of the peephole, as no one in the apartment was expecting any guests. When she saw who was at the door, she uttered a small cuss word as she opened the door, “What are you doing here?”

Y/N scoffed at Sam’s words but spoke with a gentle smile, “Tara and I have plans tonight to go to dinner and see a movie; I’m here to pick her up. Why? Are you jealous I’m here for her and not you?” She finished with a smirk that Sam wanted to smack off her face. She just scoffs at her words but lets her into the apartment.

Sam took in her outfit as she walked in: black dress pants, a black blazer, and a black lace strapless corset top. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume you and Tara had a date planned, which hurt her heart a little.

“Hey, Tara, you ready to… go?” Y/N asked as she looked around the living room and found scattered papers everywhere.

Tara looked at her with bug eyes before frantically searching for her phone. Once she found it, she checked the time and date, which resulted in her smacking herself on the forehead. “Oh my god, I am sorry, Y/N. I completely forgot about our dinner and movie night; I just got so wrapped up in my project.” Tara apologized as she stood up from the floor.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Y/N stated as she popped her head to her left. Sam noticed that Y/N does that whenever she’s upset or doesn’t like talking about something. Sam hates that she sees the little things that Y/N does: rubbing the back of her neck whenever she’s anxious, bouncing her right leg when excited about something, and picking her nails whenever she’s stressed. The list goes on of the little things Sam noticed about Y/N, but she’d simply defend it as making sure Y/N wasn’t lying to her about whatever she and Tara were doing.

“No, it's not. You’ve already bought the tickets and made the reservations for dinner. I don’t want it to go to waste because I pushed off this stupid project.” Tara complained as she turned towards the spread-out work. “Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“I’m serious, Tara. Don’t worry about it at all. We can go another time.” Y/N suggested. She didn’t want to see Tara upset over some movie tickets and a dinner reservation.

Tara sighed as she looked at Y/N, “But you’ve gotten all dressed up-you look amazing, by the way-and I don’t want it wasted.” Tara said as her eyes slowly drifted towards Sam, who was listening in on the conversation from her bedroom doorway, and a brilliant idea popped into her head. “Actually, what if I found someone to go with you?”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed at the question but told Tara to continue. She had no idea who Tara had in mind but hoped it wasn’t Sam. She could hardly stand to be in the same room as the movie. Let alone go on a dinner and movie date with her. Not a date, though, because Y/N would never think about Sam in a more than platonic way. No way at all.

“Uhh, sure. Who is it?” Y/N as she looked at Tara with wary eyes, already knowing who Tara had in mind.

Tara looked at Y/N with innocent eyes and a mischievous smile, “Sam will go with you.”

“Abosulety not,” Sam said as soon as her name left Tara’s lips, already walking back into the living room, “I am not going anywhere with her.”

“Sam, you are going whether you want to or not. You’ve been talking about going to see No Hard Feelings since the trailer came out, and now you can watch it; I’d be a bad sister if I let you pass it up.” Tara reasoned while staring at Sam with determined eyes. She has the perfect opportunity to force her two favorite people together, and she’ll be damned if she lets Sam wiggle her way out of it.

“Tara, please, it’s not that big of a deal. If Sam doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go.” Y/N pleaded, hoping Tara would let it slide.

“Yes, I agree with it,” Sam stated rather dryly.

Y/N turned to face Sam and pointed at her before exclaiming, “Hey! Do not call me ‘it’! I have feelings and thoughts!”

“Yeah, feelings and thoughts of being a pain in the ass,” Sam said as she rolled her eyes at Y/N.

“I will fight you right here and now, Samantha!” Y/N declared as she walked towards Sam, invading her personal space.

“Don’t call me ‘Samantha,’ you fucker.” Sam stated as she pushed Y/N’s shoulders, causing the woman to stumble backward away from her. Y/N ignored how gentle the push was and fought the urge to smile at the thought of Sam not wanting to hurt her.

“Hey! Knock it off, you two!” Tara commanded as she stepped between the two women, even though she wanted to see how their ‘fight’ would end. “Sam, go get changed into a nice outfit. Y/N, you’ll help me with my project while you wait for Sam.”

Sam opened her mouth to argue with Sam, but Tara's glare caused her to close her mouth quickly. So instead, she sauntered into her room and looked for a decent outfit. “I’m going to shower and get ready; give me thirty minutes.” She called out from her room.

Y/N grumbled while sitting on the couch, waiting for Tara to give her instructions. “Why are you making me take her? I know that Mindy wants to see it. I can just take her instead.”

“Because, Y/N, you and Sam will have fun. You’ll go to a fancy dinner and watch Jennifer Lawrence in a comedy. It’s like the ideal date.” Tara said with a devise smirk on her face. Tara knew Y/N’s feelings for Sam and used that as leverage over the girl.

“You’re an asshole. You know that?” Y/N said as she looked at Tara with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll just call Mindy and explain the situation to her.

“Wrong. I’m just a little guy, so I cannot be held accountable for my actions.” Tara informed as she sat down on the floor.

Y/N scoffed at her words and rolled her eyes, “You cannot use your size to justify yourself for being an asshole.”

“Yes, I can, and I will. Now shut up and help me with this.” Tara stated as she turned on the tv and picked out a movie for them to watch while they passed the time. Y/N looked up at the tv once the film began playing. “‘The Babadook’? Really?”

Tara knew of Y/N’s irrational fear of the Babadook and loved to tease the poor girl about it. They’ve had many arguments about the movie: Y/N claiming it’s the scariest movie ever to exist, while Tara defends it saying it’s a comedy movie. Y/N believed Tara had lost her mind. Tara believed Y/N was a baby.

“It’s my favorite movie. Why wouldn’t I want to watch it?” Tara questioned as she began working on her project while Y/N made zero effort to help.

Y/N scoffed at her words before uttering, “I’d stab someone too if they told me their favorite movie was ‘The Babadook.’” Tara playfully hit Y/N’s leg while rolling her eyes before returning to her task.

Tara told Y/N about the Ghostface attacks she and the core four survived after knowing her for a few months. Tara knew she could tell the girl anything and wouldn’t be judged. Y/N listened to Tara talk about the trauma her and her friends went through, and when Tara was done, Y/N lifted up her own shirt to show Tara where she had been stabbed in her stomach.

It was in the left lumbar region. Y/N had little cuts that littered her torso, but none went into her body besides the one. Y/N explained to Tara that she understood what she went through, as she was eight years old when Jill Roberts tried to murder her. The two bonded over their shared trauma of Ghostface stories and quickly used it to joke with each other.

As Tara worked in peace while watching the movie, Y/N sat away from the tv, refusing to watch it. They patiently waited for Sam while the annoying sound of Samuel’s voice could be heard in the background.

“I hate that kid; he deserves every bad thing that comes his way,” Y/N stated coldly, refusing to watch the tv.

“You just hate little kids,” Tara replied, turning her attention to Y/N. “You should check on Sam; it’s been over thirty minutes.” Y/N didn’t see the smirk on Tara’s face.

“So she can stab me? Yeah, no thanks.” Y/N shrugged. Sam could stab her, and she’d thank her, but Y/N would never tell anyone that secret.

“Just go check on her, you giant baby,” Tara stated as she threw a shoe at Y/N. And with that, the girl got up and walked over to Sam’s room, gently knocking on the door, hoping the woman was ready to go.

“Sam? It’s been over thirty minutes. Is everything good?” Y/N asked quietly, afraid Sam would strangle her if she spoke any louder. Not that she would complain: Sam could do almost anything to Y/N, and she wouldn’t complain.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just give me a minute.” Sam called out from behind the door.

Not even a minute passes before Sam calls out again, “Could you help me with something? I’m in a bit of a bind.”

Y/N looks at Tara with wide eyes, silently pleading with the girl to intervene, but Tara does nothing but mouth “Babadook-dook-dook.”

Y/N flipped Tara off before replying to Sam, “Yeah. Of course. Just let me know when it’s okay for me to come in.”

Sam instantly replied to Y/N and told her to come in, so she did. Sam was facing a full-length mirror in the corner of her room. She wore a black dress with a leg slit on her right leg that wonderfully highlighted her curves. She wore black heels as well. When Sam turned to face her, Y/N was left speechless. The dress had a shallow dip that showed off Sam’s cleavage beautifully, and Y/N had to fight herself not to stare at the woman’s boobs.

Sam noticed the way Y/N stood straighter when she walked in. She saw the way her eyes refused to leave her own. And she noticed how Y/N wiped her palm on her pants, trying to get rid of sweat.

“I need help zipping up the back,” Sam admitted with a defeated tone, turning back towards the mirror.

“Y-yes, of course,” Y/N mumbled while approaching the goddess before her. She went to grab the zipper on the lower part of Sam’s back but accidentally bumped her hand against Sam’s ass, causing the woman to stare down Y/N’s eyes in the mirror.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Y/N apologized while refusing to meet Sam’s challenging gaze.

She grabbed the zipper and gently began pulling it up. Y/N looked into Sam’s eyes through the mirror, and they held each other’s gaze until the dress was zipped up. The atmosphere was so full of tension that Sam swore Tara could feel it in the living room. Sam wanted nothing more than to throw Y/N onto that bed and make her her own, but she had to show some restraint as she didn’t wish for Y/N to get the idea that Sam liked her. She could hardly tolerate the girl, let alone care for her enough to want a relationship. No way at all.

Y/N let her hands linger on Sam’s back before whispering, “Okay, all done.” Afraid her voice would give out at any second. Sam slowly turned around to face Y/N; they were so close that their breath fanned each other’s lips.

“All ready?” Sam questioned, still making eye contact with Y/N.

Y/N nodded as she spoke, “Yeah, let’s go.” She wanted to stare into Sam’s eyes forever but quickly glanced away, afraid Sam could read her not so pg-13 thoughts.

They left Sam’s room and bid Tara goodbye before going to the apartment level. Once they had left, however, Tara quickly sent Mindy a message, telling her that their plan worked and that Sam and Y/N were on their way to dinner.

A month and a half ago, Mindy and Tara devised the “perfect, fool-proof plan” to get Y/N and Sam together. The plan was relatively simple: Tara puts off doing her project, makes plans with Y/N to go to a fancy restaurant and movies the night the project is due, and then bails because she hasn’t started the project. Tara had done her entire project in one night and stashed it in Mindy’s room, so now all they had to do was sit back and relax while their plan unfolded.

When they reached the ground level, Y/N walked out in front of Sam and held the door open for Sam as they walked out onto the street. Y/N gently touched Sam’s lower back and led her to her car. Sam ignores the way her touch shot sparks throughout her body. Y/N opened the door for Sam—which Sam scoffed at—but she climbed in nonetheless. Y/N walked around the driver’s side and got in.

The two sat in awkward silence while Y/N started the car. Her phone automatically connected, and the soft voices of Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus could be heard. Y/N looked over at Sam after pulling out onto the road. “You look beautiful.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay.”

Sam refused to admit that Y/N’s words caused her face to heat up, and a small smile threatened to appear on her face. She’d never had someone call her beautiful before, but to hear that word fall from the lips of someone she wanted to strangle and kiss all at the same time, she thought her head might explode.

The two drove the entire way to the restaurant in silence; the only thing that filled the silence was their fast-beating hearts and the graceful voices of Boygenius.

When they arrived and walked into the restaurant, Sam had to clench her first, trying not to murder Y/N violently. The restaurant they were at was an upper-class one, and Sam felt out of place, borderline uncomfortable. She began fidgeting with her hands, and her eyes nervously darted all over the room. Y/N noticed this and slowly reached for Sam’s hand, hoping the girl would accept the lifeline, and she did. Y/N held Sam’s hand down by their waists as she approached the front desk. “Hello, I had a reservation for two under L/N.” She spoke politely to the hostess. The hostess quickly looked through her book before leading them to a small table set up just for two.

Y/N gently pulled out Sam’s seat for her and pushed it in once she sat down. Y/N then walked over to her seat and joined Sam at the table. The two looked at their menus silently, waiting for their waiter to take their order. A small but enthusiastic man approached their table, “Hello, my name is Matt! What can I get for this lovely couple?” He asked with a gentle tone.

“We aren’t a couple.” Y/N and Sam both stated at the same time while looking at the man. He seemed a bit taken aback but quickly recovered. After that, they both ordered their meals and watched the man disappear.

Y/N laughed to herself before speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “he thought we were a couple.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Y/N's comment but didn’t say anything in return; she knew arguing would have been useless.

“So, what do you do in your free time?” Y/N questioned as she leaned her elbows on the table, eagerly awaiting Sam’s response.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I would like to know you on a more personal level. I don’t like the level I’m on right now.” Y/N stated as she looked into Sam’s eyes, maybe sneaking a glance at her boobs as well.

“Fine, but you have to stop looking at my boobs,” Sam said with a playful smile as she called the girl out.

“I’ve only done it a couple of times!” Y/N defended with a blush on her face that Sam noticed. “I promise to stop looking. For now.”

Sam nodded and drank her water before discussing her interests, and Y/N listened. Y/N loved the sound of Sam’s voice and wished she could hear the woman talk forever. She had the kind of voice that could put sirens in a trance, and Y/N loved it.

The pair bonded over their love of nature and wanting to live in a cabin in the woods. They both loved reading and discussed their favorite books. As their food was brought out, Y/N brought up different scenario questions, and they went back and forth with their answers.

Talking with Sam was just as easy as breathing for Y/N, and Sam would hate to admit it, but she slowly felt herself loosen up around the girl. She could see now why Tara trusted her; she was easygoing, normally calm, and always had a good smile. Sam felt like she could trust Y/N with anything, which terrified her. She hated the idea of trusting someone that wasn’t a part of the group from Woodsboro, afraid that if she let anyone in, they would betray her. So, she began asking Y/N what her interests were; she wanted to know more about the girl in case she became a threat, and definitely not because she started to warm up to the girl.

Y/N talked about her love for horror movies, even though Sam already knew that. She mentioned her fear of the Babadook, and Sam found that hilarious (and cute). She even mentioned a “band” she was in with her friends.

“I play the guitar for my friend’s shitty band,” Y/N admitted with a slight frown as she picked at her food.

Sam noticed the slight frown and the way Y/N’s eyebrows turned down, “You in a band? I don’t believe it. Bud why do you sound so disappointed?” She questioned.

Y/N sighed as she looked up at Sam, “It’s not a band; we just do shitty covers of songs for fun. That’s about it. But we don’t do it as much anymore because we all moved to different states for college.”

As Y/N spoke, Sam felt her heart break a little when the woman mentioned how her friends had moved away from each other. Against her better judgment, Sam reached across the table and grabbed Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently, subconsciously rubbing her thumb on the back of Y/N’s hand, “I’m sorry about your friends moving, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes quickly shot toward Sam’s hand, and smiled at the contact. She wasn’t used to Sam being nice to her, so seeing this new side of Sam was interesting, but she slightly missed the grumpy Sam she had grown accustomed to. As Y/N admired how Sam’s hand squeezed her own, Matt quickly made his way to the table, a knowing smirk plastered on his face when he saw the women rapidly pull their hands back when they felt his presence. “Alright, ladies, how are we doing the check today.”

“Seper-” Sam began to say, but Y/N quickly cut her off.

“Together, please,” Y/N stated while looking at Matt, refusing to acknowledge the death glare sent at her from the end of the table.

“Okay, I will be right back with your check,” Matt said, hoping to leave the tension-filled area as soon as possible.

Once he left, Y/N looked at Sam with puppy dog eyes and gave her the most loving smile she had ever seen, which made her heart yearn. “When you told me about what you like to do, you always mentioned how Tara liked to do them. You always said, ‘Tara and I’ or ‘I do this because of Tara.’ You never said that you do anything for yourself. I’ve known Tara for roughly six months now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything just for yourself; you are always taking care of others. You never let anyone care of you. So tonight, I want to do that. If you’ll allow me.” Y/N said softly, hoping she didn’t push things too far. She wanted Sam to know she cared for her and saw her as more than just her best friend’s sister.

Sam didn’t say anything back. She couldn’t. Sam tried to muster up words, even a thank you, but nothing left her lips. She simply nodded her head, praying that Y/N would understand her predicament. Sam never had anyone in her entire life do something for her that was out of the kindness of their heart. They always expected something in return, but when Y/N smiled at her after she handed Matt her card and asked her if that was okay with her, she felt every doubt she had about Y/N slip her mind. Y/N ignored the tiny tears that formed in Sam’s eyes, and Sam felt like kissing her for not saying anything about it.

Once Matt returned Y/n’s card, they left the restaurant and got into Y/N’s car. Sam was the first to break the silence as they drove toward the movie theater. “Thank you,” was all she said. Y/N looked at her and smiled, admiring the alluring woman on her passenger side. She started to let her eyes wander down to Sam’s breasts but was interrupted by Sam yelling, “Watch Out!” Y/N quickly slammed on the brakes, almost running the red light.

Sam was getting ready to rip apart Y/N for being reckless but was interrupted by Y/N’s laughter. Sam didn’t understand why the woman was laughing, but she soon joined in until she gained enough sense to ask her why it was funny. Y/N turned up the radio as Taylor’s voice softly sang, ‘You almost ran the red ‘cause you were lookin’ over at me.’ Sam rolled her eyes and softly slapped Y/N’s arm as the other woman drove again once the light turned green. They both ignored the way Sam’s hand never left Y/N’s arm.

The movie theater was in an outlet strip mall, surrounded by food places and clothing stores, but most importantly, a dollar store. “Come on; we’ll go to the dollar store, buy our sneaks, and get our popcorn and soda at the theaters,” Y/N said as she got out of the car and approached the store. Sam laughed at Y/N’s words but quickly followed behind the woman.

As they are walking, a faint song could be heard playing over the speakers, and Y/N suddenly spins around in a circle with her arms stretched outwards, singing, “To live for the hope of it all. Cancel plans just in case you’d call and say, ‘Meet me behind the mall.’” She ended while pointing at Sam.

Sam stared blankly at the girl while saying, “I will never call you nor tell you to meet me behind some mall,” with a serious tone but a playful glint in her eyes. Y/N just scoffed at Sam’s remark, goes to say something, but closes her mouth, as they approached the front doors of the store.

Y/N held the door open for Sam, then led the woman to the candy aisle in record time. This clearly was not the woman’s first time sneaking in candy. “I’m going to get some sour patch kids along with-What the fuck?!” Y/N exclaimed as she bent down and got a closer look at the candy.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked while laughing at Y/N’s words. She reached for her own box of sour patch kids.

“I’m going to cry. They don’t have cookie bites,” Y/n said as she stood up and pretended to wipe a tear from her eyes, “my life is over now.”

“You can probably buy some at the theater,” Sam suggested as they made their way to the checkout.

“Yeah, but I’m not paying $6.50 for a box of candy,” Y/N grumbled with a slight pout on her lips. Sam almost kissed it off of her.

“Whatever, stop being a baby,” Sam stated when she saw Y/N cross her arms as if she was throwing a fit. Y/N mumbled something under her breath at her remark.

Sam paid for her snack while Y/N paid for hers and left the store. Y/N led them back to her car, where she grabbed her backpack purse and put the snacks inside, then they made their way toward the theater. Once again, Y/N held the door open for Sam as they entered the theater.

The two got their tickets and ordered drinks and popcorn while Y/N still groaned about her cookie dough bites. After entering their auditorium, they sat down and silently watched the previews. They had rather good seats, third row from the front and in the middle. Sam just hoped it wasn’t too busy for no particular reason at all.

Once the lights start to dim, the screen cuts to a woman walking through a puddle on the ground, and Y/N immediately turns to Sam, “We come to this place for magic,” she says along with Nicole Kidman on the screen. “We come to AMC theaters to laugh, to cry, to care. Because we need that, all of us.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Y/N’s words, trying to pay attention to Nicole, but then turned toward Y/N once she stopped talking, “If you do not stop, I will leave.” Sam threatens.

Y/N smiles as she continues, “That indescribable feeling we get when the lights begin to dim, and we go somewhere we’ve never been before.”

Sam quickly looks around, only seeing four other people spread throughout the room before whispering, “Stop it right now, or I will walk out. I’m serious, Y/N.”

“Not just entertained, but somehow reborn together again. Dazzling images on a huge silver screen–hey, where are you going?” Y/N asks whenever Sam gets up to leave. Whisper-shouting at Sam as she walks up the aisle, “Sam, come on, stop being an asshole.” And with that, Sam walks out of the theater. Y/N felt her heart shatter when Sam left; she felt she had fucked up her one chance to be with the woman of her dreams. All she wanted to do was make Sam laugh and forget about all her problems, but all she did was make it worse. Y/N was an overthinker, and her thoughts quickly filled up with outcomes of her and Sam’s situationship–if one could call it that–and none of them were good.

Filled with shock and not knowing what to do, Y/N quickly sends Tara a text message telling her that Sam had just walked out on her. Tara soon responds with a thumbs up, saying, “Very nice.” Y/N grumbles at the text message but shuts off her phone and slides down into her seat, praying that no one else in the theater just watched the perfect woman leave her.

The intro to No Hard Feelings begins to play as she gets ready to text Sam, ‘I’m sorry I continued talking after you told me to stop. I should have listened to you. I was just trying to make you laugh, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Will you please come back and watch the movie? If you don’t want to, I will take you home. I am so sorry, Sam. Please give me another chance. I really like you, and I don’t want to mess this up,’ but before she hits send, Sam walks back to her seat and pretends as if nothing happened. Y/N quickly turns off her phone, hoping Sam didn’t read any part of the pitiful message she almost received.

“Jesus Christ, Sam! Don’t do that! I thought you had left!” Y/N whispered while Jennifer Lawrence appeared in the background screen. Sam chuckled before shoving a small candy box into Y/N’s side.

“You got me my cookie dough bites? Why?” Y/N quietly asked while looking at Sam like she had just hung the moon and stars.

“So you won’t bitch the whole movie. Now shut up; Jennifer Lawrence is on screen.” Sam said with her eyes glued to the screen, trying her best to ignore the woman she’s put in a trance beside her.

When a beach scene comes up, Y/N leans forward in her seat; her lips form into a mischievous smirk while her eyes are lustful. Sam is about to ask Y/N why she is so suddenly interested in the movie when a naked Jennifer Lawrence storms the beach and beats up three teenagers, even suplexing one. “I want her to do that to me,” Y/N muttered, staring at Jennifer Lawrence like she was a god. Sam just scoffed at the woman, her chest getting heavy with jealousy, but nodded in agreement because same.

When the movie ends, everyone begins to leave the auditorium except Y/N. “Hey, the movie’s over; let’s go,” Sam says quickly, placing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder while she stands up.

“There might be a post-credit scene, so we must stay,” Y/N says, looking up at Sam with puppy dog eyes.

Rolling her eyes at Y/N’s words, Sam states dryly, “Not every movie needs a post-credit scene.” Y/N stares at Sam before getting up, causing Sam to move her hand from Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N frowns slightly at the loss of contact but doesn’t say anything as they leave the room.

When heading towards the doors to leave, Y/N quickly stops as she exclaims, “Oh my god, Sam! I have to get your picture next to it.” Sam turns to look at what Y/N is talking about and then rolls her eyes.

Y/N has stopped in front of the Barbie poster. “I am not taking a picture with the Barbie poster, Y/N,” Sam said as she crossed her arms.

“Yes, you are. Now get it in front of it.” Y/N said as she put the popcorn bucket between her arm and side and took out her phone.

“No.”

“Sam. Get it in front of the poster. Now.”

“Why?”

“Because it will be funny, Sam! Just do it for me.” Y/N pleaded, already having her phone opened to the camera. Sam rolled her eyes at the woman and walked over to the poster. She stood with her hands by her side and didn’t even bother to smile. “Come on, take your picture.”

“No, you have to smile and do the pose Margot Robbie is doing.” Y/N motioned to the poster beside Sam.

Sam turned her head and looked at Margot Robbie's pose, “absolutely not, Y/N. You wanted a picture of me next to the poster, and you will get it. Just take the damn picture you-hey! Do not throw popcorn at me!” Sam exclaimed as she reached down the front of her dress to grab a stray piece of popcorn Y/N had thrown at her.

“I will continue throwing popcorn at you until you do the damn pose!” Y/N deadpanned, getting ready to throw more popcorn. Giving in, Sam raised her right leg slightly and lifted her left arm up into the air with barely a smile. Y/N quickly took the picture with a giant smile on her face, definitely because she had gotten Sam to do the pose and not because when Sam lifted her leg, it showed off more skin.

After the picture was taken, Y/N showed it to Sam, “See? You look so beautiful in it too.” Y/N said honestly as she tried to fight the blush that crept up her neck. Afraid to speak, Sam just nodded and told Y/N to send her that picture as they left the building.

When they arrive at Y/N’s car, Y/N again holds the passenger door open for her while saying, ‘My lady,’ as Sam gets into the vehicle. She smiles at the woman’s words as the door closes. Y/N jogs around to her side and gets in. “So, what did you think of the movie?” Y/N asked as she started the car and drove back to the Carpenter’s apartment.

“It was good; I’m glad that raunchy comedies are coming back; too many superhero movies,” Sam joked as she looked at the beautiful driver.

“I agree with you on that,” Y/N said as she stopped at a light and looked at Sam, quickly glancing at the woman’s lips before turning her attention back towards the road. Y/N hoped that Sam didn’t notice how she smiled when she looked at Sam’s lips, wondering if they felt as soft as they looked. As they drove, Y/N asked Sam to text Tara on her phone to let her know they were on their way back.

“Why can’t I just text her from my phone?” Sam questioned as she took Y/N’s phone from her hand.

“Because I might have texted her and told her that you walked out on me during the movie, so I feel like a text from me would be best.” Y/N reasoned as she brought the car to a stop at a light.

“Okay,” Sam simply said, not wanting to argue with the woman, “What’s your password?”

“120384.”

“Any significance?” Sam questioned while she typed in the password.

“Yeah, that’s when my wife was born. Natalia Alianovna Romanov,” Y/N stated with a dreamy voice.

Sam didn’t respond to Y/N, as she opened Y/N’s phone to the text message Y/N almost sent her. Her heart was flattered when she read, ‘I really like you, and I don’t want to mess this up.’ She felt her entire body heat up over those few words, and she couldn’t help herself as she thought about having a relationship with the younger woman.

Not wanting Y/N to know what she just read, she quickly backed out of the chat and entered her chat with Tara, “Alright, right do you want me to say?” Sam questioned as she read the text message Y/N had sent to Tara.

“‘Just kidnapped Sam, heading back to the apartment now. I severed minor damage, but I will live.’”

“Really? You kidnapped me? Alright then.” Sam laughed as she typed the message out. Y/N nodded her head in agreement.

The drive back was filled with jokes and laughter, and Sam pretended she didn’t notice how Y/N drove the entire way under the speed limit. When they arrived at the apartment, Y/N walked Sam back to her place. As Sam opened the door, she felt sadness fill her chest as she prepared to say goodbye to Y/N. “Despite my better judgment, I actually had fun with you tonight,” Sam said as she stood in the doorway to her apartment.

Tapping her foot on the ground, Y/N grinned at Sam, “Yeah, I had a lot of fun too, Sam. Even when you walked out on me.”

Sam laughed at Y/N’s remark and subconsciously moved closer to Y/N. When Sam stepped closer, Y/N rubbed the back of her neck while her eyes darted around the room. She took a deep breath before asking, “Would it be alright with you if we did this again sometime?”

Smiling at Y/N, Sam leaned in and kissed her cheek, leaving behind a faint outline of her lipstick, “Of course, Y/N, I’d love to go on another date with you.”

Flustered and taken awake, Y/N automatically placed her hands on Sam’s hips before dropping her hands back down to her sides in case she made Sam uncomfortable. “Yeah, a date. Of course,” Y/N said as they made eye contact and simultaneously looked at each other’s lips. Sam slowly leaned in to kiss Y/N when a voice called behind her, “Hey, you’re home!”

Tara practically ran to the door and quickly stopped when she saw how much space Y/N and Sam put between each other. “Am I interrupting something?” Tara questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“No.” Y/N and Sam both exclaimed; now Tara knew that she had, in fact, interrupted something and was getting ready to smack herself for it too.

“Well, alright then. I’m just going to leave you two to it then.” Tara said as she sent Y/n a playful wink.

After ensuring Tara was far away, Sam returned to face Y/N, “Text me when you get home, okay?” She said as she placed her hand on Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N lightly pressed her face into Sam’s hand and gently kissed her palm. “I will, Sam. Don’t worry.”

They shared one last smile before Y/N left, but she stopped halfway down the hallway and sent Sam a wave. Sam softly smiled and blew Y/N a kiss, which the girl pretended to catch and place on her heart before turning to leave Sam with a yearning heart that they both shared.

When Sam saw Y/N disappear, she shut the door and made sure to lock up the front door before quickly disappearing into her room, sending Y/N a text asking if she had made it out to her car safely.

Unbeknownst to the two women, Tara crawled out from under the couch after listening to their entire conversation. She quickly sent Mindy a text, “Our plan worked!”

(I projected a little bit of my fear of the Babadook onto the reader ngl)

#sam carpenter #scream #tara carpenter #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x reader #jenna ortega

[the-slasher-files]

I got this idea in my brain.

König getting some pussy so good he forgets to pull out. Neither party is complaining.

[CALL OF DUTY]

YOUR BEAST

KÖNIG

Oh oh oh ooooh my God I love this!! Warnings include: accidental breeding, knifeplay, mirror sex, stomach bulge, size kink, daddy kink and of course dirty talk... Hope you enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST

Stretched. Marked. Burning. A deep ache, almost painful, fluttered from your core reaching through your throat and bubbling up in the sound of incoherent words and wanton cries. He pushed you further into the depths of a vicious sea and allowing you to bare witness to the storm tearing through his eyes still smeared in black paint.

"K— Kön—" His name, sweet and brutal was caught in your throat with another deep thrust.

"Tell me, baby. Tell your King" You could hear the cocky rumble behind the words, sure that his mouth was curled in a smirk if only you could see. It wasn't the black hood with bleached tears that hid his face, it was the fact that König's massive hand pushed the back of your head down, forcing your face into the mattress.

Oxygen waned within your seering lungs, body covered in sweat, spit and cum. Yours and his. Both of you had lost track of what round you were on, but your brain had melted out your mouth long ago, perhaps when he placed you on the kitchen counter and finger fucked your cunt until there was a large puddle of your mess on the tile below. Or maybe it was when König first walked through the front door and pinned you against the wall, having just come off a 2 month long mission gone wrong and he was desperate for you. A caged animal with claws dripping blood and devastation running through his veins with each pump of a war-torn heart.

A garble of whimpering words tried to escape your pretty mouth only to fall flat with a dumb tongue but he heard one word "C—Can't"

König's crushing hand disappeared for a moment with a dark growl rumbling behind his ribcage allowing you to sputter and gasp from the newly found air. However, it wasn't long before his mammoth hand appeared again except the long fingers tangled with your locks, gripping strongly and pulling you back with ease. Your body now flat against his front.

"Yknow, I've never liked that word... can't," He rasped out with rough lips grazing along your naked shoulder. "...Now, Maus,"

Humming in response to the nickname for you, eyes half-lidded and foggy with a cockdrunk haze, gazed up behind you with a whimper. Konig's thick and long cock held still against your cervix, relentless and unmoving, there was no ability to wiggle within the soldier's iron grip.

"We both know you can," He sneered with mischief and wicked intentions flashing like lightning behind the intense blue eyes.

Suddenly you felt it. Cold and sharp laying flat on the tender muscles of your neck, daring your pulse to remain steady. A gasp left your kiss-bruised lips and eyes went wide in shock, any haze gone from them as you stiffened on Konig's massive frame and he felt in, a quiet groan sounded in his throat feeling your spongy walls close in around him.

"shhh Maus, do you trust me?" The beast was gently pushed aside for a moment to check in before you nodded wordlessly, "Good girl"

Body still stiff, Konig's soft praise and protectiveness calmed your overstimulated nerves. You were and always will be safe and loved by your king. He reassured you every day, even if he was on the other side of the planet.

"I want you to see something, sweet girl" His voice went dark, dripping with a heavy accent brought your thoughts to a halt, "Just watch how fucking good you take me"

Konig hissed, twisting the hand in your hair to turn your head forward to see the bedroom floor-length mirror capturing an absolutely sinful scene. The 6 foot 10 Austrian soldier's hulking body, skin tanned and scarred, muscles tense, visibly controlling his strength not to break your little body before him. He was still dressed in his beige cargo pants now dark in parts with the stains of your countless releases, they were folded down making the V on Konig's torso even more prominent, drawing your eyes to where your dripping cunt was being spilt open around him. Soft open kisses were placed from your left shoulder to your right making your eyes flutter up. Going across the thick, veiny arm hugging your ribcage like a deadly anaconda, reaching up to hold the large german military blade to your throat, his hand overwhelmingly the knife handle making it look like a toy but the cold bite against your pulse made you know it was real.

"Konig" Your voice was weak, daring to crack at the sight before you.

Intense blue eyes stared back hungrily as he raised to the full height on padded knees from behind you. Releasing your hair to drag down where you two were connected and spread your pussy open as if his cock didn't do that enough before he rumbled with a sharp thrust inside you, "Look at this tiny little cunt begging for me"

A feverish heat spread to your head as the man you knew as Konig was slowly, methodically turning into a beast, something primal and ancient clawing out desperately. The air had been stolen from you once again as Konig fell into a sharp, deep pace, angling his hips in just the right position to make you see stars.

"Konig, Konig, Kon-" You chanted, almost as if it was a ritual to an old god.

He couldn't control it any longer. The way your breasts bounced with each splitting thrust, the way your drooling pussy leaked around him and dripped on the bed, how your body looked like a tiny toy against his, holding you with ease as your eyes rolled back within your skull even though Konig watched your stomach bulge taking every thick inch of him. Dark sentences in German could be found between animalistic grunts and moans, but they didn't meet your ears beyond the lustful haze, drunk on everything that was Konig.

"C-close, D-Daddy, sooo c-close" A cry tore through your throat, body about to give out still looking at the reflection as much as you could focus.

"Give it to me... Now" He growled deep, removing the blade from your neck and pushing you forward. Massive hands pushing, grasping and bruising your hips as he lost himself, fucking your body like a fleshlight through your final gushing orgasm. "FFFFUCK"

The world went black between you both.... Breath heavy.... Body tingling.

"Fuck," He pants, "Fuck"

The beast lingers in the form of a man, hunched over his lifeless feast with damp huffs.

"M'sorry, baby... sorry, fuck" Konig knows he lost his head, it happens sometimes in the field turning into that aggressive hound breaking bones with the hands that held you. "verdammt"

Slowly he rolled to the side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body close as you came back to life. First, the feeling of achy muscles and blissful tingles across your skin made your eyes flutter open half-lidded, reaching out to draw Konig even closer if it were possible.

"Easy, sweet girl, easy" He coos, guilt growing within his core with thorns.

Shifting with a whimper, he was still inside you and the now soft blue eyes went wide, he had never done that before with you.

"...Need you, Konig" You meekly whispered, needing his warmth and comfort so much now with your thoroughly fucked out body.

"B-baby, okay, just-" Konig stumbled slightly over the words that wouldn't stop.

Stunned, he didn't know how to react. One side of his brain didn't want to pull out and the other side just wanted to make sure you were ok and make sure you knew what had just occurred. It was your body after all and your choice, never his even though Konig's pride and fansites overcame him.

A whine broke the train of thought that ran through his clouded mind, rolling back his hips and pulling out. Stick warmth spilled out of you involuntarily as your cunt quivered from the aftershocks and the Austrian groaned at the sight, wanting to just shove it all back in and fuck you again, but he held steady and turned your weak self towards him. Cuddling and ducking into his neck. The scent of gunpowder and his cedar aftershave stirred within your lungs like a mystical potion, always needing more of him.

Gazing under your lashes softly, you knew what happened, how could you not feel it.

A wicked smile curled on your lips as he delicately pushed the hair away from your face. His pierced brow raised as your small hand reached down to sheath himself inside you once more with a hot moan, staying there hopefully for hours now, "That's where you stay, big man"

Fuck, you were his everything

#lol the dom twist of it all to the end #my writing #HOPE YOU LIKE #könig #cod #call of duty #modern warfare #cod mwii #mwii #könig x reader #x you #x s/o #smut #fanfiction

[dulcesiabits]

like ripples spreading across everything you know.

summary: sometimes, the best way to know someone is through what your body can tell you.

notes: 1.4k words, author's notes, basically a series which uses sound, sight and touch to explore intimacy

i. Sound

You answer the call on the second ring. It takes one ring for you to fish your phone out of your pocket, and another ring for you to instinctively accept the call before you’ve finished registering the name flashing across the screen.

Like all things involving him, everything is instinct and intuition, your body reacting faster than your mind can process.

“Hi?” you ask.

“Hi.”

There’s a pause, like a dimple in someone’s smile.

“Did you need something?”

“Do I have to call you because I need something?” he challenges, voice running like smooth velvet through the speaker.

“Well, I don’t know. I can’t think of any other reason for you to contact me.”

“Maybe I wanted to annoy you.”

“Then annoy me,” you say. “I don’t have anything else going on right now.”

“Really? No parties or crimes to commit on a Friday night?”

“You’re right. That’s definitely me: part-time party animal, part-time criminal. But no, I planned to spend the night at home.”

“If I interrupted something, then–” he begins.

“You didn’t. Trust me, there’s nothing I’d rather do than talk to you. I’ll drop all of my criminal schemes and party plans to do so, even.”

“Just for me? Your neighbors will be thanking me for being able to pass another night in peace.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky,” you say lightly. “I happen to like the sound of your voice.”

There’s a crash and then a series of clattering on the other side of the line, followed by distant cursing. When he speaks again, his voice is slightly strained, dripping with feigned casualness. “Sorry about that. I dropped my phone.”

“Maybe I should compliment you more, then,” you say, mischief curling your tone. “I didn’t realize it would affect you soooo badly.”

“Shut up.”

“You don’t want me to. You like me too much,” you accuse. 

He lets out a sigh. “You’re full of yourself.”

“But I’m right.”

A beat of silence. You squash your phone right to your ear, as if that will somehow bring you closer to him. If you hold your breath, maybe you can hear the sound of his on the other line, syncing with your own heartbeat.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice again, even though it doesn’t make any sense,” he admits softly, an offering in cupped palms.

This time, when you drop your phone out of surprise, expletives lacing the air all the while, you know he’s laughing before you even pick up the phone, and you know you’ll forgive him, because his laughter will be the most beautiful sound in the world, and you’ll forget who you are and lose yourself in the sound.

ii. Sight

“You’re staring,” he says wryly, dry amusement lacing his tone.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? This is a video call!” you say. “There’s nowhere to look but the screen.”

He rests his head on his hand. Behind him, a galaxy of lights flash, illuminating wires and bare walls. The dim light of his monitor lights the soft planes of his face, the tilt of his mouth, the edges of his mask. “Right, but you look like you’re trying not to lose a staring contest.”

“Well…” you chew your lower lip thoughtfully. 

“Yes?”

“This is a silly question.”

“Can’t be worse than what you usually say,” he says bluntly, then ducks his head. “Sorry. That was rude.”

You frown, and he recedes from the screen, slouching deeper into his hoodie as if he can hide from your gaze. “Great. Now I don’t want to tell you,” you say dramatically. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “You can tell me. I won’t laugh.”

“Hm…”

“Come on. Please?”

“Well, if you insist!” You spring upright in your chair, and all the tension slumps out of his shoulders as he leans back in a more relaxed manner than before.

“You were messing with me,” he accuses.

“I was!” you say. “But let’s move on. It’s silly, and I know you do it for anonymity, but sometimes I wonder what you look like under your mask. Not that you have to show me if you’re not comfortable with that. I just, I don’t know. I wonder what color your eyes are. You know what mine look like, you know? I kind of want to know yours.”

For a second, you can’t read his face. He doesn’t look offended or upset, not in any way you can tell, at least. But he tilts head to the side, his mouth a slashed line, as if considering your words. His hair curls softly around his neck like a question mark.

“It’s not a silly question,” he says at least. “You’re right in that I do this for anonymity, partly. And the other part is that it’s easier.”

“Easier?”

“Sometimes, when I see my face, I don’t recognize it. I know it’s me, I know it’s what other people see, but I don’t know who that person looking back at me in the mirror is. That person who I see…” he tilts his head back. “They’re not me. It’s not scary, or sad, so much as just… lonely. So the mask is easier.”

“Oh. I think the mask is cute,” you offer. 

He smiles, but it’s hollow. “You don’t have to try to cheer me up. It’s just how things are.”

It’s strange. This person is hundreds of miles away from you, but when you’re sitting in front of the screen like this, he’s all you can see, filling up your vision. Even if you close your eyes, the memory of his face shimmers in the darkness.

“I like your mask,” you say again. “I mean it. It’s because, in general, I like every part of you.”

“Well, I like your eyes,” he says. “The color of them is nice.”

“So you think I’m good-looking? Captivating, even?”

“That’s a baited question. I’m not answering that.” But there’s a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and it makes your heart light up like a string of lights, flooding you with warmth.

iii. Touch 

It’s the sound that he lets out when you bring your hands to his cheeks, his skin pliant and smooth, that makes you pause and that makes him jerk back in embarrassment.

It’s a soft sound, a sharp intake of breath, like something an animal would make, and he brings his hand to his mouth, covering the traitorous body part.

“It’s okay. Don’t feel embarrassed,” you say, and slip your thumbs down his cheek. His eyes track your movement, his lashes fluttering with each breath he takes.

He doesn’t say anything, as if he can’t trust himself not to make that sound again, but he nods regardless. 

So you keep your fingers dancing along his face, familiarizing yourself with every contour, every dip, every smooth expanse of unexplored skin. When you brush past his dry lips, he shivers.

You map out his face, so that you’ll be able to recognize it even in the dark. You don’t think he’s ever been touched like this before. Or if he has, it’s been a long, long time, and the knowledge of what it feels like has faded from his mind. 

Your fingertips spark with each inch you cover, until you bring them to rest against his cheeks, cradling his face gently between them. He sinks into your touch, hesitant but willingly, as if he could give everything away to you, and it frightens him.

“Was it too much?” you ask.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just…” He stops, as if searching for the right word. “Overwhelming.”

“We can take it as slowly as you need to.” 

“I…” His breath catches in his throat again, words fluttering. “I don’t mind it. I just need a second. It feels… different. I don’t know. I didn’t think I would ever be this close to anyone else again.”

“You’re here,” you say quietly. “And I’m here. It’s okay.”

“We’re here,” he says, lingering on the words, like a river running over smooth stones. 

“You can touch me, too,” you say. And he brings his hand to your face, unbelieving, before you can feel the ghost of his touch on your own cheek. And this is the only way to know if anything is real, through one’s hands and fingers.

It’s slow, and sweet, and uncertain, whatever it is that the two of you have. There are no words for it, not yet, not when you’re still learning the pattern and rhythm of each other’s lives.

But all you know is this— “I’m here,” you tell him, and he draws his hand to your wrist, to your fingers, until he can tug your hand into his own, palm to palm, setting every nerve alight, and he laces your fingers together like a promise.

#liya writes #seekl #odnxy #odnxy x reader #x reader #the grip he has on me is insane. anyways #hoping to exorcise my demons (odnxy) by writing this and forcing him out #ty robobarbie for my life and another hit game with an LI who makes me want to shake him in my mouth like a chew toy

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Dancing With the Devil

A Vampire!Rhys x Reader Fic (because I am a SLUT for him) based on this post.

Content Warnings: Smut and blood, you know, typical vampire things.

___________________________

How you ended up on the dance floor in the middle of the Velaris Estate, being spun in dizzying circles by masked males as stringed instruments swell on a phantom wind, is anybody's guess. You think it might have been Nesta’s idea, but whatever schemes landed you in this dark, shadowy world is lost under the swell of music and rustling of skirts. You’re sure your friend is here somewhere, dancing her heart out, but the bodies clustered around you in a sea of dark lace and velvet make distinguishing anybody hard. She’ll find you by the end of the night, once she’s ditched her shoes and had a little too much to drink, for now, you’ll have to keep yourself entertained in one of the many options the party of the recently returned lord of the estate has to offer.

You don’t know much about Rhysand, other than the rumors that he came from very, very old money and had been away on the Continent while the Vampire Queen Amarantha’s reign of terror had ravaged the courts. He’s something of a local legend, always throwing these extravagant masquerade balls, the doors of this sprawling, gothic estate open until the sun begins to rise in the morning, without ever showing his face. He has to be here somewhere, directing the staff and making sure there’s no mischief happening in the locked rooms on the upper floors, but no one can tell you what he looks like, how old he is, any defining details. Honestly, realizing this was where you’d be spending the evening had been nothing short of a thrill. The war against the vampires had taken your father and left your older brother as heir of the Spring estate, he hadn’t let you out much to explore since.

Gloved hands twirl you around the dance floor again, the candlelight from the iron chandeliers overhead glittering like a thousand stars as you throw your head back and embrace the sheer weightlessness of the dance. It’s exhilarating and freeing, and you find yourself wishing that every night was like this. You’d thrive in this kind of freedom, no locked doors in empty mansions, no guards just to walk you through the gardens, only your wits and your whims dictating where you’ll go next.

The dance requires you to change partners often, so it is no surprise that a different, stronger set of hands settles on your hips as you come out of a spin and move into a more complicated three step. However, the tall stranger, with eyes so blue they’re almost violet beneath a mask shaped like a bat, is far better sight than the last male.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks, and his voice is a lover’s purr, made for the darkness of a bedroom. 

“Immensely,” you say as you chase him through the steps, one hand on his firm shoulder, other atop his own against your waist. It is unlike you to keep your hands firmly planted on a male’s body, even while dancing, even with your brother’s watchful eye far away. Better to be cautious than be accused of having wandering hands, but you can make an exception. Forget you have ever done anything else, because the male wears a corset to accentuate every muscle in his lean body, dark shirt beneath left half open to show off a swirl of dark ink on his bronze chest. Every piece of clothing looks like an open invitation to touch. He knows it too, grinning when your hand slides a little lower on his chest.

“You dance beautifully,” he praises, perfect teeth biting at his lower lip as he drinks in the plunging neckline of your gown.

You’re thankful that your own mask hides the blush dusting your cheeks. “So do you.” He moves with inhumane grace, so fluidly you wouldn’t be able to track every step if he wasn’t pulling you along with him. 

Three more steps, then a fourth before the music begins to slow and he’s dragging your body closer to his own, large hand sliding over your hip to your lower back. 

“Will you dance another with me?” He asks, warm breath fanning your face as he leans in to be heard over the swell of a harp.

You nod eagerly, anything for a chance to have those hands on you a bit longer.

Two dances turn to four, then six, until you’ve lost count entirely, the night slipping away from you. At some point, he asks if you want to stop and get a drink, and you might have said no because this was just too good an opportunity to pass up, but the mischief in his violet eyes make you think better of it. You soon find yourself pulled through the swirling of bodies that hasn’t let up all night, and into a darker corner of the room, where couches and chairs and tables line the walls for people to observe the dancefloor with a little privacy. Quite a few of the couches are occupied with couples embracing in the shelter of the dark, where there are few candles to be observed under.

There’s a couch in the corner, beneath a large window, moonlight streaming over the dark cushions that’s empty and your companion leads you right to it. In your defense, you are expecting to be plied with a little wine before anything happens between the two of you, so you are unprepared for him to slide into the seat and pull you right into his lap!

Heat flares in your cheeks, body awkwardly tangled in your skirts as he pulls your hips forward to get you situated atop his powerful thighs. 

“What happened to drinks?” You ask, a little breathless from dancing and trying not to stammer under the brazenness of the display. You’re no blushing virgin, but you’ve certainly never been in this compromising a position in front of an audience before.

He brushes his nose over the column of your throat and places his plush lips against your skin, making all thought eddie from your mind.

“I intend to,” he says into your skin before he nips gently at your sensitive flesh.

Your whole body shivers, eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Rhys,” he says as he kisses his way up your jaw.

Rhys as in… 

As if he can read your mind he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin, “Only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“How did you know that’s what I was going to ask?”

He hums as he scrapes his teeth playfully over your throat. The edges of his mask tickling your skin as it brushes against you, the contrast between his warm breath and the rough fabric sending a thrill down your spine. You should be absolutely mortified that you’re perched in the lord of the estate’s lap, but you can’t find it in you to care, can’t find it in yourself to do anything but settle a little more firmly against his body and let him explore.

“Mind reading is one of my many talents,” he purrs as his gloved hands slide over your hips, skirts bunching up around your thighs as slender fingers need the soft flesh of your ass.

You instinctively rock your hips forward, clothed core scraping over the budding tent in his slacks. The contact makes your head spin, makes you tip your head back a little as he sucks a mark into your throat. You’ll have to wear a scarf tomorrow to hide it from Tamlin.

“And what other talents do you have, M’lord?” You tease, because you’ve never believed in such magic. 

“I think I’d rather show you, Darling,” he says, but his mouth doesn’t form the words, they’re an echo inside your head, as if they’re your own thoughts in his voice.

You still your movements in his lap; this is not the magic of witches or mages, not some clever party trick of the traveling magicians that often pass through Prythian. They say only Vampires can possess talents like this.

Rhys grins at you as the realization clicks into place, and whatever glamor had been used to hide his fangs slides out of place, canine’s glinting in the moonlight. You put your hands on his chest, firm, but there’s no heartbeat beneath your palms, intending to push yourself off him before he can sink those fangs into your throat, but his grip on you tightens to the brink of pain. Your bones feel fragile, brittle under his supernatural grip.

“Relax, Darling,” he instructs and a shadow of sheer, undiluted power brushes over your mind, freezing you in place. “I promise this will be pleasant for the both of us.”

“Let go of me!” You squeak, still trying to push yourself free. “Or I’ll start screaming!”

He chuckles, the sound of it skittering over your bones, and the dim candles nearby flicker out, leaving you only visible in the moonlight. A few of the couples nearby cheer excitedly, as if that’s some sort of signal. 

“Here’s the thing,” he explains as he brushes his nose against the column of your throat again. When you try to squirm away, he only pulls you closer, lips hungrily tracing the pulse pounding in your neck. “I could go out into the woods, feed on some vagrants nobody cares about, spend my nights hunting for a warm body to take my fill of. But after a thousand years, the chase gets a little boring.”

A thousand years. Rhysand is a thousand year old Vampire?

“Why waste my time and energy, when I can bring a meal right to my doorstep?”

“Please,” you whimper, body trembling. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anybody.”

“I know you won’t,” he says, kissing your throat far more gently than somebody holding this tightly to you should. “That’s why I picked you. I know you want an escape from your life of locked doors.”

You still as he drags his lips along the edge of your jaw until he meets your ear. “Let me show you a way out.”

Your skin is sensitive there, his breath makes you shiver in delight, goosebumps prickling your skin. He can’t possibly know all this just by looking at you, he had to have been rummaging around in your head, probably while you were dancing. It’s an invasion of your privacy, and you should keep fighting for any chance to escape him, but there’s a piece of you that wants this. Tamlin will never give you a way out, the more you beg for your freedom the more doors he locks in your face, and if you go home in the morning, if you let him pick a husband for you, it will never be any different. There will only be more locked doors, only keeping a stranger’s bed warm, his house run, tending boys that will have more freedom than you’ll ever get just because they’re boys. You will be lucky if you’ll get to keep to your books and your sketches, lucky if you get to keep any hobbies at all that don’t include tending a house. You’re trapped in a cage no one can save you from if you don’t take this one key.

His fangs scrape over your earlobe as he nips playfully at it. “It’s an even bargain,” he prompts. “You let me feed, and I’ll show you a world of nothing but open doors, hmm?”

You’re a fool, and you’re pretty sure an agreement will damn your soul forever. 

“Will it hurt?”

“Only for a moment.”

A moment’s pain for an opportunity of unbridled freedom. “It’s a bargain,” you say, tipping your head back to fully expose your throat. You shut your eyes though, unable to watch it happen.

“Good girl,” Rhys purrs and there’s a little tingle, like electricity in your fingertips and palm that makes you crack an eye open for a second to look at the black whorls that now cover your fingertips, up your hand and over your wrist. Some sort of permanent bargain mark.

There’s no time to ask about it before Rhys sinks his fangs into your throat. The coppery scent of blood fills your senses, mind spinning to comprehend all that’s happening as pain flairs in the muscles in your neck. 

“So sweet,” he purrs into your mind. “Just as I’d hoped.”

He’s not letting up, but the longer it takes, the less pain you feel. The longer his fangs are in your neck, the warmer your body becomes. Your muscles slowly relax, pliant in his iron grip. When he rocks his hips, slowly, testing, you can’t help the groan that escapes you. Even as the last little rational bit of your mind screams in protest, your hips once again work over the bulge in his pants, chasing the heat budding in your core. 

When he removes his fangs from your throat, he laves over the wound with his tongue, not letting a single drop of your blood escape. “I’ve fed on a lot of humans,” he whispers, “but none as sweet as you.”

You can’t seem to stop moving, chasing after the pleasure building quicker and quicker as you rut your hips against his. “What’s happening to me?”

When he kisses you, it’s the coppery tang of your own blood on his lips. “Vampire venom is an aphrodisiac. Makes feeding a pleasurable experience for everybody, wouldn’t you agree?”

The scrape of his slacks is delicious, makes you squeeze your eyes shut and move without thinking about how brazen you look, but it’s not enough. You need more. Need him deeper. Need him moving inside you with the same fervor he had when feeding on you.

“Need you,” you whimper and he kisses you again, one hand tangling in your hair, absolutely ruining the updo you’d carefully constructed hours earlier. The other slides under your skirts to find the hem of your underthings and he gives the elastic band a testing pull before he rips it off entirely. 

You gasp in surprise into his mouth at the sheer strength of him.

The leather of his gloves is a cool texture against your bare skin as he drags a thumb over you and you rock your hips into his touch, desperately seeking more. He’d been right, this was definitely a more pleasurable experience than you anticipated it being. 

Rhys breaks the kiss as he slides a finger inside you, and you throw your head back and moan unabashedly. You don’t truly have the presence of mind to look at the other couples nearby, but judging by the sounds coming from around you, you’re not the only one partaking of this kind of pleasure tonight. The cover of darkness and music shields your activities well enough, but perhaps there are more than a few vampires in Rhys’s court, and they won’t risk their own hunts letting anybody look too close in your direction.

Plush lips move down your jaw again, like he just can’t stay away from your throat. You’re inclined to let him bite you again and again and again just to feel like this for a little while longer. Heat and pleasure builds at the base of your spine, burning white hot through you as he slides a second finger in your wetness, stretching you out.

“All this for me, Darling?” He scrapes his teeth over your skin, not biting but marking you as he searches for the collar of your gown. When he finds it, he starts dragging it away from your body with his teeth, deft fingers untying the laces at your back to let the excess fabric fall.

The cool air against your flushed skin has you whimpering, eyes screwed shut as you draw closer and closer to the edge. 

His fingers curl, hitting a spot inside you that makes stars swim across your vision and you bite down so hard on your lower lip to keep from screaming you draw blood. Like a moth to flame, his lips leave where he’d been sucking a mark into your shoulder to lap the slight trickle of blood off your lower lip. 

Maybe you’re wrong for it, but the sight is hot, makes you core tighten around his fingers, addicted to the way he craves you, as if you’re some sort of drug. You drag your hands down his chest, unclasping the last button you can reach before the corset gets in the way. You want to tear it off him and run your tongue over the firm planes of his chest, taste him just as he is you, but that will have to be another time. Your hands move lower, trying to find the laces of his pants around the bunched up frill of your skirts, needing more, unable to convey it around the white noise building in your head. It’s too much and not enough; the best you’ve ever had and you haven’t even cum yet. You’ve never felt so desperate for anything in your life.

He chuckles into your mouth at your neediness, hips rising off the couch to both tease you and give you the leverage you need to find the laces of his pants. You’re really not sure how you manage it around your skirts, how you can think about anything but the movement of his fingers inside you or all the filthy things he keeps whispering in your ear. It’s nothing short of a frenzy as you finally manage to get him free of his laces and guide him directly where you need him most.

He’s not your first by any means, but he’s definitely the biggest, and it takes a moment for you to adjust to his size. By then, the world around you could have been on fire and you wouldn’t have noticed anything but him. There is no orchestra playing, no music besides the sounds of his moans of pleasure as they mingle with yours, no thought but the two of you and how your bodies merge and join. 

That white hot pleasure keeps building tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock inside you, and you steady yourself against the back of the couch, chests brushing as you fight to remain steady. His fingertips will certainly leave bruises on your hips with the way he holds you. 

You’re so close to the edge, dangling over the precipice, his name a prayer on your lips as he once again sinks his fangs into your neck for a taste. Release barrels through you as he moans into your bruised flesh, his own release not far behind as you slump exhausted against his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, body trembling as you come down from your high.

Rhys strokes a gloved hand over your ruined hair as you catch your breath. “I was going to turn you tonight,” he hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I think I want a few more rounds of that first.”

You huff a laugh into his chest. You don’t hate the idea. No part of your bargain said he had to turn you immediately. “Is that all vampires do? Feed and fuck?”

Violet eyes gleam playfully in the dark as he says, “Darling, you’ll have all eternity to find out.”

#vampire!rhys #vamp!rhys #rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhys x reader #vamp!Rhys smut #vamp!Rhys x reader smut #rhysand acotar #acotar fic #acotar smut #my writing #my fic

[jebetwo]

dancing with the devil. preview

IN WHICH, he wants you but you need him.

pairing : fuckbuddy!jake x afab!reader

genre : angst, smut, fluff ????, hurt no comfort, totga

warnings : heartbreak, mature and sexual themes, drinking, smoking weed, usage of profanity (a lot!), jake can be a dick, morally gray characterization, just hear me out it's a ride of emotions

taglist : OPEN leave a comment or ask!

wc : 1k??? idk sorry LOL (estimated 15-20k)

reblogs are super appreciated 💝

THE BASS SHOOK YOUR BODY, reverberating in your chest as you navigated through the sea of bodies in the crowded living room. You were shocked as to how hundreds of university students could fit in a shitty basement suite, but who were you to complain? Lights illuminated the crowd in hues of the most vibrant of colours, casting large shadows against the walls. You had never been one for loud, crowded places, but tonight was different.

Tonight? You were on a mission.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face amidst the chaos. And then, you saw him.

Ah, Jake Sim. The very (and only) reason you even thought of, let alone decided to go to a party. It's not like you didn't drink or didn't have any friends, quite the contrary, actually. You just never found any interest in mingling with sweaty bodies for hours just to stumble home and wake up with a raging headache.

All of that is thrown out the window, anyway. You're already here, faced with the purpose of your arrival.

You and Jake have a somewhat complicated relationship. You've known of each other since middle school and even became apart same friend group for all four years of high school. But back then you weren't friends with Jake.

No, no. You weren't allowed to be friends with Jake.

Park Sunghoon, your now ex-boyfriend and current best friend of Jake absolutely hated the idea of you getting close to him. You never understood why he hated the idea of you and Jake being close; you never got the chance to even talk to the guy, let alone give Sunghoon a reason to forbid a friendship. You were quick to assume maybe he just didn't like you being around guys, which was even quicker to be ruled out as a possibility. You were friends with every other one of his best triends except Jake.

It's no surprise to anyone that Jake found you extremely attractive. Hell, he found you more beautiful than anyone, anything he's ever seen. He sees more than just physical perfection; he sees the essence of everything he's ever longed for. Your eyes hold a universe of secrets and desires, each flicker of emotion a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of your soul. Your smile is like the first light of dawn, it dances across your lips, a melody of joy and mischief that leaves him breathless.

Jake jumped at the chance to talk to you the second he heard the front door of his and Sunghoon's shared apartment slam shut, the second he saw his best friend standing with his head hanging low in the middle of their shared space. He knew that was it. You guys were done and he yearned for you both but God, was he excited. He knew Sunghoon messed up when he didn't tell you he was leaving to study abroad until days before his departure. He knew you were going to break up when your face shifted through all kinds of confusing emotions when Sunghoon told you he was leaving. He knew this was his chance to finally get you.

He remembers how surprised you were when he first texted you out of the blue, even if it was a simple

hey

ik this is so outta nowhere

but

how are you doing?

He remembers how surprised he was when you started responding to him in longer sentences. He remembers when your conversations prolonged for hours. He remembers when you confided in him on your problems. He remembers you told him when something good happened, and most of all? He remembers when you finally agreed to go to a party to let loose, forget about Sunghoon and get lost in him instead.

Sometimes he feels bad for himself. Sunghoon was being selfish and kept you away from him for the past four years? Jake thought Sunghoon was the luckiest motherfucker alive for having you as his girlfriend. He envied that Sunghoon would be able to call you his, he would be able to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close to his body around everyone, he would be able to kiss your plush lips that he could only dream of tasting, he would be able to hear you would moan out his name and chant it like a mantra. At the same time, Jake understood why Sunghoon kept you from him.

Sunghoon knew the way Jake looked at you.

He never said it, he didn't want to confront it, so he dealt with it how he could to keep both your love and his friend in his life.

It's funny how time can be so cruel.

It was inevitable that you started to slowly fall for Jaks as time went on. He filled the void that his best friend left in your heart. He was there for you and was objective with his opinion, he was soft yet stern with his words, he made your bad days good and your good days better, he made you feel new heights of joy, and he was exactly what you needed. You wanted Jake and there was nothing you could do about it; you fell before you could catch yourself. You were unsure with if what you felt for Jake was right, if Sunghoon is upset that you talk- Wait, did he even know you guys talked?

Yet, you found yourself excited and void of any feelings of uncertainty when you saw Jake sporting a toothy smile on his face as he took another sip of God knows what in his cup.

He stood out like a scorching flame in the darkness of an abyss, his golden hair catching the hues of neon casting the room as he laughed with his friends. There was something so captivating about him, something that made everything around him glow, something that drew you in despite your better judgment.

With a deep breath, you pushed your way through the compact crowd, determined to make your move before doubt could take hold of you and push you away from this scenario. As you approached him, your heart pounded in your chest, the sound drowned out by the pulsing music. You could feel the second he saw you; the heat of his gaze burning your skin as you drew nearer, anticipation mingling with nerves in the pit of your stomach.

When you finally reached him, he looked down at you with a grin. It sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps coated your skin, so much so you couldn't tell if you were cold or if this was just the effect he had on you.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence," he teased, his voice low and husky, yet loud enough to reach your ears over the deatening music.

You laughed, trying to ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he pulled you into a warm embrace. His arms looped loosely around your waist after pulling out of the hug, you swear your skin was burning under his touch.

You could smell the alcohol radiating on his body.

Alcohol. That's what you needed.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed the red cup in his hand and downed the rest of what he had left. You felt the fiery burn flow through your body and veins- why the fuck is this so strong?

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a vulnerability that you had never seen before. A dark gaze that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

God, Jake could cum to the image of you downing his drink.

"Couldn't stay away, could I?" you shot back, your tone playful despite the rapid beat of your heart.

"I'm glad you came," he said, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, "didn't think you would."

"Yeah?" you respond, Jake looks at you with a slight shrug before grinning.

"Yeah, but you did," he tightened the hold on your body and pulled you closer to his, your arms found home looped around his neck, "for me."

You felt the warmth spreading to your face after his last sentence. You weren't sure whether it was the alcohol or the fact he made you so flustered. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. But, before you could overthink any farther Jake interrupted your thoughts.

"It's okay though," he leaned in closer to your face, lips centimetres apart, "I came here for you."

Ah, there it is. The feeling of being wanted and craved, the feeling you so desperately thirsted for after Sunghoon left. You grew so accustomed to having him around, four years, just like that. Gone.

That doesn’t matter anymore though. No, none of it matters with Jake’s face so close to yours, so close that you could count every eyelash if he let you.

He was about to kiss you, you're sure. You could feel his breath ghosting your lips, but then he loosened his grip on you and back away. Before you could question if you did something wrong, he grabbed a hold of your hand and pulled you into the crowd, seemingly forgetting about his friends the second you arrived.

All that mattered to him was that you were here, in front of him, and he wasn't going to let anything keep him away from you again. He was going to get what he wants because Jake?

Jake always gets what he wants.

"Sorry princess, my favourite song is playing and I need to dance," you laughed in his face in disbelief. He mirrored the smile that you had.

Happiness looks good on you, he thought.

You were swept up in the whirlwind of the night, lost in a haze of laughter and music and stolen glances. But even as you danced with Jake all night, you couldn't shake this odd feeling that beneath the surface, there was something darker lurking, waiting to pull you under.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. After all, tonight was about forgetting, about losing yourself in the chaos of the night and pretending, if only for a little while, that everything was okay, that this is your new normal.

adie yaps : this preview is a repost bc it wasn’t doing that good 😭 hopefully it does better this time lolollllll bc i have no motivation to finish it rn

++ preview and overall story is subjected to change where i see fit.

#enhypen x reader #enhypen au #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #enha au #enha smut #enha imagines #jake sim x reader #jake sim au #jake sim smut #jake sim imagines #jake x reader #jake au #jake smut #jake imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen #enha #jake sim #jake

[maadsimming]

prismatic personalities legacy challenge <3

if you played our first challenge, WCGW, last year and enjoyed it then you will be happy to hear that we are back with another challenge! this challenge is for the game players to explore different jobs, aspirations, and ingame prompts they may not be aware of. and of course, we didn’t forget our storytellers! so make sure you pay attention to the descriptions for each colorful generation :)

welcome to our nine generation legacy challenge, “prismatic personalities”

CREATED BY @darlingstoriees AND @maadsimming

follow our stories @/darlingwhim and @/maad.persona over on instagram!

challenge rules:

each generation has a color for you to follow; the colors go along with the personalities of each gen so it is suggested that you follow the color schemes!

the colors of the spouses don’t matter. unless specifically stated in the rules, you can do whatever you please with them.

every generation has an optional rule to make the generation just a bit harder! as stated, these are optional so only do them if you’d like.

some generations will have relationship/family dynamics rules, however if none are stated, the relationships between all sims will be up to your interpretation!

some generations have child aspirations. you do NOT need to fully complete them, but you can if you’d like!

money cheats can be used, but shouldn’t be used excessively. suggestion: use the cheat, freerealestate on for your first home, but no cheats afterward.

your sims may live wherever you please unless the world is specified in the rules of a generation.

every heir should complete the rules, aspiration, and career of the generation.

if you do not have the required packs, you can opt out of certain rules or change them to fit as close as possible.

if you play this challenge and want to share it with us, make sure to post with #prismaticpersonalities so we can see! feel free to tag us as well: @curioustraits @/darlingwhim & @maadsimming @/maad.persona

generation rules under the cut !!

packs used: for rent, growing together, snowy escape, eco lifestyle, discover university, get famous, parenthood, spa day, nifty knitting.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation one: red ❤️

you've always been intense, passionate, first. from the second you were born, you let the world know that it revolved around you. your passion was always your best friend, seemingly letting everything fall into your hands... until it turned on you.

color: red

traits: romantic, erratic, self-assured

aspiration: villainous valentine

career: criminal (boss branch)

rules:

complete the villainous valentine aspiration

master the criminal career (boss branch)

master the mischief, handiness, and charisma skills

have the ‘difficult’ family dynamic with ALL of your children

only max out the romance bar with ONE love interest, but never date or marry them

(optional) never have any friendly relationships

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation two: orange 🧡

"patient... patient.. be patient!" is a word you knew as well as your name. but you were too determined to live life to it’s fullest, it CLEARLY had a lot more to offer in your eyes. can't be patient when you have places to be!

color: orange

traits: adventurous, party animal, self-absorbed

child aspiration: rambunctious scamp

aspiration: extreme sports enthusiast

career: entertainer (comedian branch)

rules:

gain the ‘compassionate’ character value trait (good empathy)

gain the ‘irresponsible’ character value trait (bad responsibility)

complete the extreme sports enthusiast aspiration

master the entertainer career (comedian branch)

must live in mt komorebi

master the dancing, rock climbing, comedy, charisma, and snowboarding skills

adopt at least one of your children

have the ‘jokesters’ family dynamic with ALL of your children

never reject phone invites

(optional) never be in a negative mood

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation three: yellow 💛

your cheerful parent gave you a happy life, you would have never guessed how evil this world could be... until it was time to move on from your parent’s safe grasp. it didn't take long for you to realize how scary everything was, but that fear drove you to want to protect others- be a lawyer! save your clients!

color: yellow

traits: cheerful, paranoid, genius

aspiration: friend of the world

career: law (private attorney branch)

rules:

gain the ‘mediator’ character value trait (good conflict resolution)

gain the ‘emotional control’ character value trait (good emotional control)

complete the friend of the world aspiration

master the law career (private attorney branch)

master the research and debate, logic, charisma, writing, and parenting skills

move out after aging up to a young adult

have something tragic happen to someone close to you after you’ve moved out

have only ONE child

have the ‘close’ family dynamic with your child

only be friends with a small group, but have all of their friendship bars maxed out

(optional) go to university to get your language & literature degree before going into the law career

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation four: green 💚

you were always told that you should "take your own advice" but that never made sense to you. advice was meant to be given? what good does it do if it’s your own thoughts? either it was a severe case of empathy or self-blindness- you would listen to everyone except yourself. you needed some… serious growing up to do… emotionally. but hey! at least you can put all that advice to some good use!

color: green

traits: jealous/wise, nosy, vegetarian

child aspiration: slumber party animal

aspiration: seeker of secrets

career: education (professor branch)

rules:

gain the ‘compassionate’ character value trait (good empathy)

gain the ‘uncontrolled emotions’ character value trait (bad emotional control)

complete the seeker of secrets aspiration

master the education career (professor branch)

master the research and debate, logic, charisma, and gardening skills

replace the jealous trait with the wise trait when aging up to an elder

get divorced (at any age) and then remarry the same sim as an elder

blackmail someone ONCE & then never do any other mean interactions

(optional) use the ‘simple living’ lot challenge

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation five: blue 💙

loser.. loner.. something along those lines. those were titles that seemed to always stick to you from childhood to adulthood. finally over it, you decided it was time for a change, a new style… haircut… job. you were ready to rip off the stickers of shame and embrace the new you... i mean, who doesn't want a new loyal friend??

color: blue

traits: loyal, loner, neat

child aspiration: artistic prodigy

aspiration: neighborhood confidante aspiration

career: style influencer (trendsetter branch)

rules:

gain the ‘good manners’ character value trait (good manners)

gain the ‘emotional control’ character value trait (good emotional control)

complete the neighborhood confidante aspiration

master the style influencer career (trendsetter branch)

master the writing, charisma, photography, painting, and media production skills

move to a different world after aging up to an adult

sell paintings as a side job

have no close friends until level 6 of your career

(optional) as an adult, become friends with someone who you had a bad relationship with as a child/teen

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation six: purple 💜

calm and peaceful... and just a little silly. that’s just who you are, and everyone knows it! you enjoy rooms full of laughter as much as you enjoy silent yoga. taking some passed down advice from an ancestor, you love living life to its full capacity- love, family and doing everything you possibly can. you don't even know the definition of boredom!

color: purple

traits: active, childish, creative

child aspiration: mind and body

aspiration: inner peace

career: athlete (professional athlete branch)

rules:

gain the ‘mediator’ character value trait (good conflict resolution)

gain the ‘bad manners’ character value trait (bad manners)

complete the inner peace aspiration

master the athlete career (professional athlete branch)

master the wellness, fitness, charisma, and video gaming skills

have two failed relationships as a young adult before marrying your highschool sweetheart

have the ‘permissive’ family dynamic with all of your kids

order pizza for dinner every friday night

(optional) apply for every competition (ex; lottery, gaming tournaments, etc)

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation seven: black 🖤

maybe it was the emotionally unavailable parent, or maybe your heart truly was just evil... but you always had a keen interest for the darker side of everything. everything in your life was dark and twisted... except... someone of pure light. was it a change of heart? was it love? were you sick... you didn’t know, but you surely understood that feeling pulling on your heart strings to protect this light.

color: black

traits: evil, snob, kleptomaniac

aspiration: public enemy

career: secret agent (diamond agent branch)

rules:

gain the ‘bad manners’ character value trait (bad manners)

gain the ‘irresponsible’ character value trait (bad responsibility)

complete the public enemy aspiration

master the secret agent career (diamond agent branch)

master the mischief, logic, charisma, programming, and your choice of instrument/singing skills

have ONLY one pair of twins

have the ‘close’ family dynamic with only one of your children, and have the ‘difficult’ family dynamic with the other child

steal something from every lot you visit

(optional) break into someone’s house at least once a week

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation eight: white 🤍

you’re pure. which is shocking coming from your long family line.. but you aren’t all perfect. that overbearing anxiousness of needing to live up to every expectation that’s been set from your lovely ancestors and all the people around you. you needed to start fresh, forget all those expectations! this is your life! and what better way to start fresh than... well... being a civil designer!

color: white

traits: perfectionist, socially awkward, good

child aspiration: social butterfly

aspiration: master maker

career: civil designer (civic planner branch)

rules:

gain the ‘responsible’ character value trait (good responsibility)

gain the ‘compassionate’ character value trait (good empathy)

complete the master maker aspiration

master the civil designer career (civic planner branch)

master the fabrication, logic, handiness, charisma, and knitting skills

must live in evergreen harbor

befriend all of your neighbors

must vote every week for a positive neighborhood action plan

always stay in the green eco footprint

(optional) use the ‘off the grid’ lot challenge

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation nine: pink 🩷

LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION! …and some giggles. whenever you were a child and were asked "what will you be when you grow up?" you enthusiastically told them that you’d be on the big screen! and you meant it too! the first feeling of relief when you really were on the big screen will forever be your most prized memory. let’s just hope these feelings don’t fade away after a few years…

color: pink

traits: goofball, ambitious, generous

child aspiration: social butterfly

aspiration: master actor

career: actor

rules:

gain the ‘mediator’ character value trait (good conflict resolution)

gain the ‘compassionate’ character value trait (good empathy)

complete the master actor aspiration

master the actor career

master the acting, singing, and dancing skills

have pet(s) but only small dogs/animals

donate to charity every week

marry an ambitious sim

have a big family (4+ kids)

have the ‘close’ or ‘jokesters’ family dynamics with all of your children

(optional) become a global superstar and get a celebrity role on starlight boulevard

#prismatic personalities #prismaticpersonalities #GRAPHICS COMING SOON #prismatic personalities legacy challenge #rules #ts4 challenges #sims 4 challenges #sims 4 legacy challenges #sims 4 legacy #legacy challenge #maadsimming #darlingwhim #ts4 #sims 4 #sims #challenge rules #challenge-rules

[pandorasworkshop]

🐇Welcome to Wonderland- Pick a Card

Who from Alice in wonderland do you embody? And what's something good about you.

Pandorasworkshop

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

Pile 1

Cards: the muses, the trout and lilly of the valley, the hare, three of cups and the sun

Character: white rabbit, door mouse, the march hare

Reading: You know how to have fun but I feel as if there is a little bit of social anxiety. May be a bit sleepy and have a pure heart. You genuinely mean well for your friends and are a go with the flow type of person. Creative talents and self expression is important to you. You are a good learner and work hard you should slow down sometimes when you feel stressed. I feel like you may be pretty like a bunny. With the sun card people view you as honest and bright. You may have a bit of a sweet tooth or have a signature drink you always drink. With the hare card I feel like you are a messenger and may warn people about things they need to know. You are smart and know how to get yourself out of a sticky situation. Rewrite any doubts about yourself.

Signs: 113, white rabbits or any rabbits for that matter, the feeling you have been forgetting something, card games, tweed fabric, academic style, vampire movies, peonies and white roses, the chess cookies that are square.

Pile 2

Cards: the storyteller, the sailor, coyote and datura, the moth and eucalyptus, the fool and six of cups

Character: Cheshire cat, the caterpillar, and Alice

Reading: You are a great storyteller and may get into a bit of mischief. You have a lot of wisdom that comes from living life and feel like people don't give you enough credit for that. You may be a little bit of a rebel but you know how to throw a party and get into fun. You may smoke or drink and if you don't you may be an avid tea drinker. You always know something before others do and have keen sixth sense and great observations skills. You may be neurodivergent or think a little differently about life than others. You have a child-like sense of humor and find things to laugh at. Joyous to be around. You are always down for something new and consistency may be a problem for you. You like to experiment in your tastes whether it's style, food and anything in between. You like to go to new places and experience life for all the nice things it has. You are curious about life and like to learn new things. Maybe school wasn't for you.

Signs: 444, blue butterfly, cats, fur coats, swords, beautiful crystals, responsibilities, feeling bored, caviar or any other types of fancy fish, silver jewelry, mushrooms.

Pile 3

Cards: the tailor, the herald, the horse and blue bells, beaver and birch, king of cups, queen of wands, ten of wands

Characters: mad hatter and queen of hearts

Reading: You are a hard worker and leader. Both of these characters lead. You may feel burnt out and need to rest. You are a person of many talents and skills. You are humble about yourself and may be a bit of a queen bee unknowingly. You have great fashion sense and are responsible. You may have struggled with depression. You are a survivor and have a lot of strength in you. Many people would say you feel like home and you are good at comforting your friends. No one knows what your next move is and you keep people on your toes. You'll always land on your feet like a cat. People feel safe around you and you have a lot of advice to share. I feel like you need to rest. You deserve a proper vacation or spa day. Whatever will make you happiest. Remember you come first.

Signs: 1111, red wine, apples, learning to accept help, those warm knitted blankets, satin, the color red, community, dahlias, the game Alice madness returns, violin and piano, spirited away.

#witchblr #witchcraft #folk magic #spellwork #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #tarot cards #tarot #tarot pick a pile #tarot pac #pac #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #alice in wonderland #wonderland #oracle

[holdmytesseract]

Birthday Magic

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everybody around you tends to forget your birthday, because of all the Christmas trouble. Except Loki, of course...

Warnings: none, except a tiny bit of suggestive smut (Blink and you'll miss it.), fluuuuff

Word Count: 1,9k

a/n: This fluffy lil' oneshot is a part of @fictive-sl0th 's Secret Santa Event! 🎅🏻🎁 I had the honour to write mine for @give-me-a-moose ! 🤗 I really hope you like this! 🥰 And happy belated birthday! 💚

Secret Santa 2023 Taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficionaldomina @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @cultofcarter @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @glitchquake @holymultiplefandomsbatman @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @quirkiest-turtle

Tags: @huntress-artemiss @chennqingg @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @goblingirlsarah @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds

divider by the lovely @jiyaxedits <3

Yawning, you stretched and opened your eyes; blinking, before you reached over to turn off your alarm clock. The winter sun shone through the big French doors of your bedroom. You immediately saw that it had snowed over night; a white blanket covering New York City. It was beautiful - and yet was a certain sadness overshadowing the wonders of winter...

You sighed and rolled out of bed; finding a little note on your bedside table - like every day. Even when Loki was on a mission, the note appeared on your night-stand magically.

'Good morning, angel. Have a great day. I love you. x'

Your boyfriend's words made you smile at least a little bit, until realisation hit you. He didn't remember. Of course he didn't remember. Nobody ever does.

You hung your head; trying to suppress the upcoming tears. Today was your birthday, but since it was December and Christmas in not even two weeks, hardly anyone remembered your birthday. Everyone was just too caught up in the preparations for the holidays. And as sad as it sounded... You got used to it. Perhaps that was the reason why you stopped telling people about your birthday.

With another sigh, you made your way into the kitchen to eat a little something for breakfast. Then you got ready, put on your winter coat, boots and beanie and went to work.

Luckily, it was at least a normal day at the office. The regular every-day madness. You quickly got all the things done on your to-do list and were even able to call it a day one hour earlier than usual. After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you took the subway and headed back home. On your way, you got a chocolate cupcake - a little something for yourself to celebrate your birthday. You could already picture it... You, the cupcake, decorated with a single candle and a big glass of alcohol. Perfect.

Sighing, you turned the key in the lock of your apartment on the 5th floor. You absolutely had zero expectations of today and expected not the slightest thing to happen. Therefore, you were more than just surprised, when you walked inside a literal pool out of balloons, birthday decorations and... confetti? You frowned; thinking out loud. "What...?"

You weren't able to finish your thoughts, when suddenly Loki jumped around the corner. "Surprise, my love!" He wore the biggest smile on his face - and a party hat on his head. "And the happiest of birthdays to my ray of sunshine!"

You blinked; felt like a deer caught in the headlights. It was beyond your wildest dream. Never ever surprised you somebody on your birthday like Loki just did. Sure, your parents did, back when you were a child, but... Late teens and early adult years? Nope.

"L-Loki? I-I... What... What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be o-on a mission?" You stammered out; trying to grasp this. Your boyfriend was still smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Of course not, darling. It was just a little white lie, so that I was able to set this up while you're at work." Then his smile faltered a little. "Do you not... like it?"

You could've cried then and there out of happiness.

"What? No! No! I do like it! Gods, I love it! It's been years since the last time somebody surprised me on my birthday like this!" You couldn't help yourself but to jump into his arms; wrapping your legs around his waist. "Thank you. Thank you so much, baby." Loki chuckled; his big hand stroking your back in a reassuring, loving manner. "I-I thought you forgot my birthday... Just like everyone else and-" "Darling..." Loki interrupted you immediately. "I could never forget the birthday of the person I love the most in all the nine realms - and especially not the first birthday we are about to share together."

A few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of happiness. "You're the best." A low chuckle rumbled through your boyfriend's chest again, before he gave you a wink, "I know." and a smile. "And this..." He gestured around the hallway. "This is only the beginning."

Loki didn't exaggerate when he said that this was only the beginning. Oh no... After he had carried you through the sea of balloons into the kitchen, he showed you the cake he had baked for you. You were absolutely thrilled of course, and it tasted delicious. You blew out the candles and ate a big slice, just like Loki.

After that, he told you to wrap yourself up in warm clothes, because you were going outside. And again, you weren't in the slightest prepared. You wouldn't have thought that Loki rented the ice rink only for the two of you... For as long as you wanted.

"Loki, are you... Are you insane?" You laughed; not believing what was happening right now. The god just laughed and tied the laces of his ice skates, "Insanely in love, perhaps." before he glided gracefully on the ice rink. "Are you joining me now, my love?" He asked with a mischievous smirk, while he skated like the ice prince he was past you. You smiled brightly and quickly exchanged your boots with ice skates.

After you and Loki have been enjoying yourselves on the ice rink; making races and even tried to 'dance' to the music playing in the background together, you went back to your apartment. Cold and with frozen toes, but happy.

"I think I need a hot shower now," you said; feeling the goosebumps on your skin. "You do just that, darling." "Won't you join me?" You asked suggestively; wagging your eyebrows. Loki chuckled. "I'd love to, but I have a few more things to organise. I'll see you later. Take all the time you need." He pressed a sweet kiss on your lips and left you alone to shower. You were slightly sad that Loki wasn't going to join you, but you were also super excited. This birthday was already the best you ever had. What would be able to top that?

Wallowing in the memories of the wonderful hours you already spent with Loki today, you showered and stepped thirty minutes later out of the bathroom. To your surprise was your apartment immersed in darkness - and your boyfriend vanished.

"Loki?" You hesitatingly called down the hall, but received no answer. "Where is he?" you mumbled to yourself; making your way to the bedroom. Arrived there, you switched on the lights and immediately saw a large, thin box laying on the soft mattress. Frowning, you approached the bed. A note was laying on top of it, on which you could clearly make out Loki's handwriting.

'I hope this dress is worthy of the goddess who is going to wear it. You will be awaited downstairs at eight o'clock.'

Your heart almost stopped at his words. A big smile formed on your face. Biting your lip, you carefully opened the box - only to find a beautiful emerald green dress inside it. It was so stunningly beautiful, it took your breath away. With wide eyes, you lifted it out of the box; gasping. "Oh he can't be serious... He can't..." You let your eyes roam the fabric. "Wow..." You breathed in awe, then squealed; excitedly getting ready and dressed. The dress fitted you perfectly; molded against your dips and curves.

Five minutes before the clock stroke eight o'clock, you made your way downstairs. Excitement and nervousness coursed through your body. You couldn't wait to see what Loki had planned.

When you stepped out of the main door to the rather small building you lived in, you felt your breath catch in your throat - again.

Loki was standing on the sidewalk, in front of a black limousine; dressed in a green velvet suit with a black dress shirt and bow tie. A bouquet of black roses was in his right hand; his other stuffed in his trousers pocket and a bright smile on his face.

He looked devastatingly handsome.

You felt like fainting and crying out of happiness at the same time.

"There you are, my love." He said in a happy voice; "You look ravishing." giving you that smouldering look. You blushed. "T-Thank you. You look handsome, t-too." The god softly shook his head; causing his long raven curls to sway. "Not remotely as beautiful as you look."

He then stepped closer; gave you a soft kiss and handed you the bouquet of roses. "T-Thank you. For everything. For the cake, the ice skating, the dress, the roses..." Loki only chuckled; placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the limousine. "Like I said, darling... It's only the beginning. We are not finished yet." Mischief twinkled in his beautiful blue orbs, as he opened the car door for you.

"After you, my goddess."

You blushed even more and sat in the car.

A fifteen minute car ride later, you stopped in front of one of the finest, noblest restaurants in whole New York City. Once more, your jaw dropped. "No, Loki... You... You are kidding me, right?" Your boyfriend chuckled; shaking his head "I'm not." "B-But Loki, this... This is way too expensive! I-I don't deserve this, I-" He interrupted you by taking your hand in his and placing a soft kiss upon your knuckles. "You, my love, deserve the world. Especially on the day you were born."

He led you inside the fancy restaurant then, to a table he had reserved for the both of you.

The time you spent there with Loki was splendid - just like the food. It had been quite a while since you ate so good. Especially at a restaurant. The ambience was lovely and the waiters absolutely kind and friendly. You enjoyed the talks with Loki, the glasses of wine and also the soft jazz music in the background.

After the dinner, the limousine took you and Loki back home.

"Thank you for this wonderful day, baby. I didn't have such a wonderful birthday in years. Thank you for thinking of me and giving me all this. And especially... Thank you for your love." Loki smiled and embraced you; gently, lovingly swaying you from side to side. It almost felt like you were dancing.

"You don't have to thank me for that, my love. It goes without saying. I love you - and my purpose is to make and see you happy. Oh, which reminds me of something... Your actual birthday present..." Your eyes widened once again. "No, Loki, stop you've given me enough..." Loki shook his head; still smiling. "It's not a physical present."

Now you were confused. Something the god noticed immediately.

Loki took both your hands in his. "Your birthday present is a trip to Asgard."

You stared at Loki; speechless. "W-What?" He just smiled. "I know that you always wanted to go there; see my home and... I... I think I'm ready to go back with you and show you everything you wish to see." "R-Really?" He nodded. "Really."

Tears formed in your eyes. The realisation hitting you that Loki was willing and ready to open up the doors to his past for you was touching you deeply. "Thank you. Thank you for trusting me this much, I- Wow, I... I love you."

Loki smiled. A gentle hand caressed your cheek and wiping your tears of happiness away. "I love you too."

You couldn't help but to stand on your tiptoes and kiss the god.

"This is the best birthday ever!"

#secret santa event #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

[totothewolff]

Sparks Fly

+18 | daddykink!Toto x reader, smut, New Year's fic.

Summary: Toto is ready to leave his shitty 2023 behind and start 2024 in the best way possible, and you don't want to spend another New Year's Eve all by yourself; it's like destiny and the universe conspired to bring you two together. Author's note: I hope your 2024 is full of abundance, health, and great things. Masterlist: Here

-

It's New Year's Eve, and the air is filled with celebration and booze in the luxurious nightclub where Toto Wolff is saying 2023 goodbye, culminating a year's worth of dreams, aspirations, and desires in a glittering extravaganza wild party. This year wasn't his very best, but he is determined to end it on a high note. 

That's why Toto's gaze spans the sea of hot bodies attending the exclusive event. His horniness fuels his quest for a match to spend the end of the year with. His heart skips as he notices your radiant silhouette moving on the dance floor, completely alone just meters from him.

Your slender yet sinfully curvaceous figure, draped in a form-fitting black dress that leaves little to the imagination, dances sensually; Toto witnesses with delight each movement of your hips and ass.

Unable to resist your magnetic pull, he walks towards you through the crowd of bodies, his gaze never leaving you.

Toto feels drunk in lust and admiration when the two of you finally stand face-to-face. He manages to introduce himself among the loud music and vibrant atmosphere. —Toto Wolff.

Your lips curl into a smile, your eyes sparkling with mischief, feeling proud of grabbing his attention. —Y/N —you introduce yourself.

—Can I enjoy your fucking sensual dance from up close? —he asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

You let out a giggle and, with a sexy voice, answer. —Yeah. Come here.

As you move for him on the dance floor, Toto places his hands on your waist, his fingers brushing against the delicate lace trimming your gown. You lean against his body, and Toto inhales deeply. His scent mingles with the sweet aroma of champagne lingering in the air. Your skin is smooth and warm beneath his touch.

—What brings you to me tonight? —you ask, with your voice husky and enticing.

He hesitates momentarily before answering. —I'm just looking forward to starting the year with a bang!

A smirk plays on your lips. —Is that so?

—I mean, start the year on the right foot! —he quickly corrects. —Well, the other, too, if you want to —he adventures, winking. —I had a shitty, shitty year. I'm looking forward to ending it the best way.

You arch an eyebrow; your gaze locks onto his. —Why do I sense there's more to this than meets the eye?

Toto sighs, a fleeting shadow crossing his face. —Perhaps you're right —he whispers, his eyes tracing your curves. —The past few months have been tumultuous, leaving me questioning the direction of my life.

You tilt your head slightly. —You feel yourself trapped with routine, desperately seeking some excitement to break free from the bad streak you feel at, am I correct?

Toto chuckles softly. —You've quite the intuition, don't you?

You shrug nonchalantly. —Call it a sixth sense, or perhaps, simply having a Netflix account and an F1 subscription. I know what's up —you laugh at his amused face.

—Please tell me I'm your favorite one from Drive To Survive —he jokes with you, forgetting he is famous for a moment.

—I can show you —you whisper to his ear. Then your bodies sway together, moving in perfect harmony as if guided by an unseen force. Toto feels the heat radiating from your skin, your scent filling his nostrils like the sweetest perfume, enjoying your ass rubbing against his bulge, following the music's beat.

—So, to fix that, you decided to attend this New Year's Eve lavish party? —you ask with genuine curiosity as you feel him wrapping you tightly, burying his face on your shoulder.

—Believe it or not, I was about to spend it alone, cooped up in my apartment with nothing but a bottle of wine and a stack of old movies for a company —Toto answers.

You pretended shock, your eyes widening dramatically. —Toto Wolff, the notorious playboy, spending the night holed up indoors? Now, that's something I would never have imagined! Judging by your appearances on that streaming show of yours.

Toto grins sheepishly, his eyes glinting mischievously. —Well, it seems my secret is out. But what about you, Y/N? Dancing like that, all by yourself, what a crime!

You laugh softly. —I was about to give it up, too, but my best friend dragged me along. To put it mildly, the previous New Year's Eve parties I once attended have been less than fulfilling. Countless hours spent dancing, flirting, and indulging in numerous meaningless conversations, only to find myself alone at the end of the evening. But the prospect of facing yet another lonely New Year's Eve filled me with dread, so I agreed to come here. 

Toto smiles softly, his fingertips lightly brushing against your back. —It feels like destiny like the universe conspired to bring us together.

You two continue moving in time with the pulsating beats of the music, your bodies perfectly attuned to each other's movements. Your chemistry is undeniable, a tangible energy crackling between you like an invisible force. Toto's hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer. Your bodies press tightly together, creating friction, and desire sparks fly.

—So what do you say, Y/N? —Toto's voice is seductive.

—Take me somewhere private, Toto. I want to explore every inch of you.

With each step he takes, Toto falls deeper under your spell. The cold night air brushes against your faces as you two make your way down the crowded streets full of partygoers, drunks, and couples making out. Fireworks go up in the sky as you walk side by side, hands intertwined, lost in your own world.

-

You and Toto enter the opulent hotel suite, your hearts racing with anticipation. As soon as the door closes behind you, you embrace each other fervently, exchanging heated kisses as you slowly remove your clothes.

Toto runs his hands over your toned curves, savoring the warmth of your skin beneath his touch. You moan softly, arching your back as Toto's lips trace a trail down your neck and chest.

Your nipples harden instantly, straining against the thin fabric of your bra. Toto notices the change in your breathing. Your chest's rapid rise and fall matches the intensity of your growing hunger.

—Toto —you whimper, your voice hoarse with need. —Please, I need you inside me. Fill me up with your cock —you cry out, your nails digging into his back. 

He doesn't waste any time. Toto quickly takes his remaining clothing, standing naked before you. His erection strained against his abdomen, throbbing with anticipation. You stare at him, your eyes full of craving.

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his shaft, stroking it slowly. Toto groans loudly, his muscles clenching as you expertly work him. —I want you so badly, Toto. I need your cock inside me. Fuck me hard, daddy.

He needs no further encouragement. He lifts you effortlessly into his arms and from the floor and takes you to the king-size bed where he places you.

Toto positions himself between your legs, his erection pressing against your wet pussy. He kisses you passionately, his tongue probing your mouth as he slides his member into your awaiting wetness. You moan with satisfaction, your inner walls gripping his shaft tightly. He begins to pump in and out of you, his pace increasing with each passing second.

You moan with pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him deeper inside you, gasping. —I need to feel you slamming into me.

Toto obliges, pinning you against the mattress. Your back arching, you let out a guttural cry of pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly.

—Oh God, yes! —you scream, your eyes rolling back in ecstasy. —Don't stop, daddy. Please, keep going… harder —you plead, desperate.

Your hands try to grab him to lock him in place as he continues to pound into you. His balls slap repeatedly against your pussy, his cock plunging ever deeper. Toto's hands roam freely over your body, exploring every curve and spot.

—You like that, baby? —He growls, his voice rough and commanding. —I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow.

You moan louder, your nails digging into the soft sheet as he slams into you again and again. Toto cups your breast with one hand, squeezing it roughly as he continues to plow into you. You scream, strained and frantic.

—You fuck it so good! —you moan out. —Pound like that, daddy.

Toto obeys, thrusting into you with increased vigor. Your pussy clamps around his cock, milking him mercilessly.

Toto's cock swells within you, pulsing with every thrust. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pumps in and out of you.

—Oh, god. Yes! Keep fucking me, daddy. Fuck that pussy!

Toto grunts with effort. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure coursing through his veins, making him lose control. Your bodies slap together with each collision.

Toto grins wickedly, his cock swelling even larger. —You like that, don't you? You enjoy my cock so much. Are you my little whore?

You buck wildly under him, your cries of pleasure echoing throughout the room. Your juices coat his cock, making the sensation even more intense.

—YES, DADDY, I'M YOUR SLUT! I WANT TO TAKE YOU EVEN MORE!! I NEED YOU TO DESTROY ME! DESTROY MY PUSSY, DADDY, PLEASE.

Your words fuel his desire, sending him into a frenzy. With each brutal thrust, he sought to claim you completely. Nothing matters now except satisfying your deepest desires.

—Look at me —he orders you, his voice thick with lust, pulling you roughly by the neck. —Watch me make you cum.

Toto grabs your wrists tightly, pinning your arms above your head. His powerful thighs flex as he drives his cock deeper into you. Your body quivers uncontrollably. Your pussy contracts around his cock, trying to milk him for every drop of seed he possesses.

—Keep going at it, baby —Toto growls, his voice rough and commanding. —Cum for me.

Your orgasm, exploding and cuming all over him, with wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body. Your body convulses, your pussy clamping tightly around Toto's cock as it throbs within you. You cry out his name, full of passion. He grunts loudly, his own release building rapidly.

With a couple of extremely harsh and deliciously painful powerful thrusts, making the bed shake and making you feel impaled, Toto burst inside the condom, releasing moans and grunts with heavy breathing and panting. You caress his chest and abs and squeeze his ass, patting it as he pulls out of you.

Your tongues dance together as he leans and relaxes on top of you, resting his temple on yours, playing with your hands intertwined.

—Happy New Year —you whisper to him, noticing it is past 00:00 hrs. —Did I make the end of your year a great one as you wanted it?

—Even better. Even better —Toto lets you know, kissing you slowly, licking your lips most deliciously. —Happy New Year. Would you like to read another fic? Masterlist: Here

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #mercedes fanfic #formula 1 fic #toto wolff imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #toto wolff smut #f1 x reader

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: Body Count

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. I’ve been seeing some stories about Alastor not having understanding the slang for ‘body count,’ so here’s my take.]

[Word count: 1426 Cw: language]

—————

“Really Angel? That’s your bonding activity for the day?” Vaggie’s single eye glared at the lanky spider.

“Whaaaaaat? Charlie wants us to share intimate secrets!” Angel Dust’s voice was full of seductive mischief. “Body count is a very intimate secret. Tells you a lot about someone.”

“Angie’s right!” A cheerful voice called from across the parlor. Cherri Bomb, the hotel’s newest sort-of-resident, didn’t seem much interested in redemption for herself. She did however have a genuine desire to help Angel and to defend what Sir Pentious gave his life for. The busty cyclops was teaming up with Vaggie as part of the Hazbin Hotel’s basic security.

She also had a mischievous streak wider than her friend’s. “I’ll start, give ya a hand Angie.” Angel snorted a laugh saying, “I’ve already got six toots!” She threw an ice cube from her drink at him. “One thousand eight hundred and twenty…” she paused to count on her fingers, “six. Most o’ that’s from Hell. I got to thirty-one before I died.” She leaned back on her couch, looking very satisfied.

Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer could only stare for a moment. “Whoo, nice going Cherri! I knew you wouldn’t disappoint,” Angel crowed. “Lesse here, before I died it was six. After that…” he did some quick math on his phone, “about 90,000? I’m sure we can review my body…of work to confirm.” He grinned lavisciously.

Charlie waved her hands rapidly. “Nope! No no no no no thank you Angel, you’ve shown us plenty that of that during ‘show and tell’ day.” Lucifer looked vaguely disappointed at missing out so Angel resolved to sneak a copy of his favorite performances to the king of Hell.

Charlie continued, forgetting her dad was in the room. “Mine is six,” she said with a shy air, her pale complexion turning bright red.

“WHAT?” Lucifer spat out his tea.

“Oh shit! Dad!” Charlie was flustered but did her best to compose herself. “I mean, I’m over 200 years old now, I’ve been living on my own for decades!” She took her girlfriend’s hand and squeezed it. “Besides, Vaggie is the only one that matters now.” The long haired angel gave her a watery look.

“Well…I guess you’re right sweetheart. So long as they all treated by little girl right?” Lucifer asked with an edge to his voice. At Charlie’s nod he said “Good.” He took a sip of tea before providing his number. “Seventeen.”

“Dad?! I thought…you and Mom…what?!”

Lucifer shrugged. “I don’t kiss and tell Charlie. But your mother knows about all of them. She was even there for some.” He grinned wickedly, looking completely like the king of Hell for once.

Charlie buried her face in her hands while Vaggie rubbed her back in sympathy. “Not too shabby short king. Okay Vags, you’re up!” Vaggie glared at him and flipped him off. “Just our fearless leader?” Angel teased. She huffed, glanced back and forth, and held up her index finger as she blushed. “Thank you for your honesty, Vagina. Huskiekins, how about you?” Angel turned around on the couch to face the bar as Vaggie bristled.

Husk sighed as he continued polishing glasses. “Three when I was alive. Nine since I died.” He was fully prepared for Angel to say something like “Wanna make it ten?” but he just received four thumbs up from the somewhat reformed demon.

“Apologies for our lateness,” your voice called from the elevator. “Alastor had to rewrap my wing this morning.” You and your husband walked arm in arm to the group, with Alastor making sure you were comfortable before taking his own seat. Once he was ensconced in the wingback chair, long legs crossed politely, Lucifer popped up to inspect your wing.

“Hm, not bad.” He had you stretched it gently and gave Alastor an approving nod. “Good work deer boy.”

“Oh ho, of course my good fellow!” The lack of static filter on his voice was the most display of annoyance he would give at the moment. He hated the idea of any man touching you, much less Lucifer Morningstar. But he knew he didn’t know how to help your wing injuries without the fallen angel’s help. “I am a quick study after all! Can’t let my darling rely on someone that might not be around, hm?” His smile widened as Lucifer’s growl showed his comment hit home. “So! What are we discussing today, chums?”

“Ooooh, this is gonna be good,” Cherri giggled as Angel replied. “Body count, Smiles. Before and after death for the Sinners in the group. So, what about you and the missus?”

“An odd topic, but alright. You’ve kept a better count than me, cher. If we count the one right before our death mine is seventy-four?” Jaws dropped at your statement.

“That sounds correct. I had eighteen before we met, and a few solo after our initial encounter. That makes ninety-seven for myself,” he said, looking up to calculate mentally. “I believe after my arrival here, my count is five thousand thirty-one. Give or take a dozen.”

You nodded as Cherri breathed “hooooly shiiiiiit,” with an impressed look. “Mine is still more modest, four thousand six hundred and two. Again, give or take a dozen. Of course, about half of those we did together.”

Alastor hummed in satisfaction. “Oh ho, yes that’s true. Would that increase or decrease our original counts? Or should we have a separate list for couples?”

“Fuck me, I didn’t think they were capable of that,” Cherri said in awe. Lucifer blinked one eye, then the other as his brain tried to catch up. Charlie had her hands over her ears and Vaggie was rubbing her temples. On the other hand, Angel and Husk were sharing a confused look.

“Doll face, Smiles, what kind of body count are ya talking about?” He remembered the discussion about your sexual preferences and the numbers didn’t add up. The simultaneous head tilts from you both confirmed his suspicions.

“Is there more than one kind of body count?” Alastor followed up your question with his own, “How can there be more than one kind of body count?”

“We’re talkin bout how many people we’ve slept with.” Angel paused, remembering your difficulty understanding innuendos. “I mean how many we’ve fucked. Boned. Had sex with.” At his clarification you looked somewhat less confused.

“Why would that be called a body count?” you wondered as Alastor looked surprised at Angel’s explanation. “I’m impressed Angel, I didn’t expect you to explain anything.” Audio of an audience applauding resounded in the room.

The spider shrugged. “I promised your gal I’d explain innuendos if she’d tell me what you two do when ya fuck. Ain’t gonna go back on my word, ‘specially with this cutie.” He winked and stuck his tongue out at the two of you.

“Okay, what's your sexy body count then?” Cherri, disappointed that the thousands you mentioned weren’t people you slept with, was even more curious now.

“One,” you and Alastor said in unison.

Cherri spluttered a bit at the difference between the two kinds of counts while Angel nodded sagely. “Yeah, that tracks, considering you’re both ace as spades and the weird shit you’ve done.”

Lucifer, unsurprised at the amount of death and destruction Overlords were capable of, did look intrigued by that. “What do you mean, ‘weird shit they’ve done?’” Vaggie clapped her hands over her ears as Charlie buried her face into the other girl’s hair in embarrassment. Cherri Bomb nodded encouragement to you.

“NO!” Husk and Angel yelled out together. Angel looked straight up panicked as Husk dashed over to block Alastor and you from view with his wings. “Trust me Luci, you don’t wanna know,” Angel stressed, grabbing the short man by the shoulders. “It broke my brain. Mine. The porn star. Don’t ask ‘em.”

“Is the fact that we’ve [redacted] really that upsetting?” Alastor asked from behind Husk’s feathers. “I think it’s more that we’ve done things like [oh no, not this again], cher,” came your cheerful reply.

Husk pressed his wings back, covering both your mouths. “Boss, Y/N, please stop.” Niffty choose that moment to scramble up Alastor’s shoulder and peek over Husk’s wing. “They’ve done [bleepitybleep] too!”

All heads whipped in her direction. The tiny maid looked proud of herself as she added, “My body count is five! Just one from life. That one counts for my murder count too!”

“Okay, new topic!” Charlie stood up abruptly, her face as red as her tuxedo jacket. “Umm, uhhhh, let’s talk about favorite foods!”

—————

Taglist: @whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #asexual #asexual alastor #asexual reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin niffty #hazbin vaggie #hazbin cherri bomb

[stayconnecteed]

❪⠀🪐.⠀lowkey⠀𓏔⠀lee know⠀❫

drabble request by @vanillacupcakefrosting (thank u for being the first ♡) 一 "lee know... something a little naughty?", lowkey by bm (kard)⠀★⠀915 words

content: smut,, mentions of biting / neck kisses, chocking, mirror sex (mentions of oral sex - both him and her reciving, but not described). plot,, minho's thoughts on a party + the after party in his room. credits,, mdni banner by @cafekitsune. warnings,, if any under 18 acc interacts with this fic i'll block them. note,, i hope you like it!! no proofread, i don't even know what have i done ajsdhjasd

The thing Minho liked most about you was your innocent appearance. There was something about the curious way you watched everything, your big eyes taking in every detail, a shy smile tugging at your lips. And it was something that drove him crazy. Even at that moment, sitting on the couch in his own apartment, some of his friends around him having a conversation he'd already lost track of, he didn't let you out of his sight. You were right in his field of vision, the tight leather skirt hugging your hips, which moved almost of their own to the soft music as you talked to your best friend. He adored your angel aura, delicate and naive, at his total mercy.

When he had met you, everyone had told him about how gentle and kind you were, always looking out for those you cared about, the typical person who listens to you when you are talking and someone interrupts, a soft smile plastered on your face, always there, like a constant of joy in the group. And he had seen you, and had thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. The crush had been instantaneous, but somehow he didn't remember any physical traits he could point to: all he could think of was your electrifying energy, the smell of your shampoo, that he had lost himself in your essence, and it was why all those little imperfections you thought you had had seemed insignificant to him.

If there was one thing that attracted him, though, it was the certainty he had that it was all a facade. You were a lovely person, it was true, but in the intimacy of his room you had proven time and again that not everything you let on was the real you. That defiant look you gave him with your chin up while he plopped down between your legs, eager to taste you. The mischief-filled smile you would flash just before licking his cock, knowing that every little movement of yours had him on edge. And most of all, the sighs and whimpers you'd spill onto his sheets as he buried his hips in you, shivering when your wetness received him. You were an angel ーhis angelー but with a single glance you managed to turn Minho into a real sinner.

His favorite part of the parties he organized in the apartment he shared with Felix was when you got bored. He would see you say goodbye to those around you, after having danced for hours, and walk the few meters until you ended up sitting on his thighs, feigning a tiredness you didn't feel, to whisper in a choked voice a "Let's go" in his ear, leaving it to him the part of mumbling a excuse that would allow him to chase you to his room. He loved to close the door behind his back and discover you lying on his bed, staring at him with heat in your eyes, whining that you needed him, that he had to do something, now, or you would lose your mind.

And after that nothing mattered anymore but having you in his arms, caressing your skin with a soft touch, or biting your flesh, leaving marks that could be seen, using his tongue, or his fingers, or whatever it took to fuck you dumb on his mattress, so bad that you wouldn't remember anything but him, that you'd forget even your name. Until he made eye contact with himself in the mirror you had bought a few weeks ago, his forehead with a light layer of sweat, breathing hard, lost in you, and forced you to your knees, his hand wandering from its place between your legs to your neck, closing his fingers around it, and made you look at yourself.

With your chest pressed against the sheets, and your gaze glued to the mirror, Minho began to move his hips again, stifling his own moans as he bit his lip, just so he could hear better the sounds you were making, whispering how you had made him feel all through the party, with that damn skirt, and your dance, always pushing him to the limit when you decided to approach someone that wasn't him. And you watched him, his reflection making you weak, with the almost possessive way he grabbed your hips to fuck you back to him, closing his eyes so he could feel how good you felt around him, his hand squeezing at just the right moment, your body reacting to his experience, greedy.

And when he noticed you were closer, then he opened his eyes, his cheeks flushing as he met your gaze with his, and he lifted you up to pull you back to his chest, pressing his lips to your shoulder, kissing and nibbling as much skin as he could, you crying out and throwing your head back, he felt it. When you let him decide how much air went into your system, when you trusted him like that, looking up at him with crystallized eyes, babbling about "I'm yours, yours, yours, baby- hah, yours to do whatever, fuck, whatever you want with me", when you offered yourself to him because you knew he would put your pleasure and safety above his, it was then that he felt he loved you.

He knew he loved you, but he tried to repress it. They made him feel somewhat insecure, the magnitude of his feelings, the way he loved you, irrevocably, desperately. And it was too soon. But he would tell you. At some point. He thought that too, after you both finished, when you murmured how much you had enjoyed it, that you had to do it again, when he stroked your skin with a damp cloth to clean you up, when he watched your features relax as you drifted off to sleep. He'd trace a tired but satisfied smile, kissing your forehead with affection, and whisper a faint "I love you", just like every night he spent by your side, noticing how you snuggled against his chest, hoping that someday you'd hear it, unaware that you always woke up earlier the following day, and whispered the same thing.

© stayconnecteed 2024 · do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms

#☆ㅤ🪐 writings!! #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #about: lowkey #☆ㅤminho recs!!

[lesbesapphic]

Call It What You Want pt (1/2)

Sorority Leader Wanda AU (Inspired by Taylor Sloane)

Summary - Wanda wants to show off her girlfriend to her friends you are too much of an introvert to go to a party with her until she finds a way to convince you.

Or

What happens when one day Natasha leaves you home alone and your girlfriend, Wanda decides to pay you a visit, determined to get her way. Would you be able to say no to her invitation when she is three fingers deep in you or fall for her charms and seal your fate?

Warning - mean Wanda but in a sexual way, daddy kink, name calling (pup, puppy) , a little choking and slapping but it's Wanda!, Overstimulation, roleplaying.

A/N - Hello everyone!

It's part one of this three part series. It's seriously a whole new universe filled with angst, fluff, smut and romance! Seriously it is just the beginning @xxxtwilightaxelxxx and I have planned so much for this and really am so grateful for this commission!

Hope you all enjoy it as much as we did while coming up with this!

(Wanda's outfit)

___________

"Mama." You called your mother as you walked back upstairs from the basement after spending more than an hour working on the new art project you had picked. Trying to hold back the beaming smile that appeared on your lips every time you think of how excited the woman would be once she would see your new art piece.

"Are you going somewhere?" You asked when you saw the woman looking through her purse for the keys. Her hands pushing aside content and placing some of them on the couch, the glass bracelet you made for her on her wrist reminded you of your first project, you were so excited to bring it to your mother. The woman would always wear it with her black shirt, like now. "Yeah. Yelena." Natasha answered and you nodded before you walked over to the bowl and threw the keys on the couch knowing exactly what she was looking for and Natasha gave you a grateful smile before her eyes got the familiar mischief look in them.

"Don't even!" You warned while sitting on the couch opposite her. Ready to fight her if she brought it up again. Recently she had started joking about getting Alzheimer's with how much she was forgetting stuff and the amount of things she misplaced and forgotten."What? I didn't say anything."

"Yeah because I stopped you." You murmured while picking up the walnuts on the table to eat a few. Ever since Natasha mentioned this forgetfulness, you had placed a bowl of various nuts on the table, after learning that the omega fatty acid helps with memory. You knew that she had been only joking about it but deep down the fear of losing her in any way scares you to your core. You wondered if the woman was aware of it, you didn't show it all that much but then you shook the thought away. She was your mother. Of course she would know.

"Okay, Malyshka, I will be back in a few hours after dealing with your aunt." Natasha grumbled at the end and you smiled in amusement, as much as your mother complained about your aunt, she couldn't deny the entertainment the woman brought to your house. You could already think of Natasha coming home and telling you all about it as you two cooked dinner.

Natasha picked up her bag and kissed your forehead as she walked past you. "See you." You picked up your phone, wondering if you should drop a text to Wanda, maybe let her know how you were going to be alone for the next few hours but decided to not disturb the blonde, instead focused on replying to her last text asking about your progress on the project.

It had been only fifteen minutes or so when you heard the doorbell. Your first thoughts were your mother forgetting something but then remembered the package, Natasha took for the neighbors earlier in the morning. You opened the door, expecting your neighbour for their package but was greeted with a sight of none other than your girlfriend, Wanda Maximoff. You usually wouldn't be caught off guard by her presence as she would always pay you surprise visit but this time, it felt different. In all your years of knowing her, one thing you had always noticed about the woman was the way she took care of herself, especially while going out so it was safe to say you had never seen Wanda in anything less than a picture perfect outfit but this time she had outdone herself.

She was wearing a blue dress with a deep neckline to reveal her cream color Brasserie that left her top half of the breasts uncovered to the point where you could see the mole on her left breast, driving you insane. You were left with an extreme urge to kiss the small spot, suck it to your heart's desire. A part of you wondered if she did it on purpose, revealing it all, knowing you won't be able to touch or play until she allows it and you couldn't even recall the last time she let you play with them. Not even a single kiss to your favorite spot. The dress tied around her waist, highlighting her figure and a slit till mid thighs where you could catch a glimpse of the soft and smooth flesh.

"Hey.." You greeted breaking a very long moment of silence after you realised that you do own functional vocal chords. If rendered speechless was really something, you were sure you were experiencing it right there in that moment. Your eyes flickered back and forth between the exposed bra and the way it softly cupped her breast, supporting them in the right way.

"Are you going to let me in or stare at my chest some more, Detka?" Wanda questioned, a smirk of accomplishment playing on her lips when you flushed a shade of red she was well acquainted with. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head and stared into your eyes, a smile of adoration when you avoided eye contact, getting shy under her gaze. Her hand lightly played with her hair that she had let down today.

"Of course..come in." You pulled the door back letting her in, your body working on auto pilot while your eyes kept on roaming up and down her figure, you had to literally take a deep breath to stop yourself. A tiny voice at the back of your head finding this all suspicious, the timing, the dress and especially the knowing smile playing on the blonde's lips but you pushed it back further, wanting to enjoy the view in front of you.

Wanda stepped in, her fingers brushing your arm sensually as she walked past you. Sometimes you didn't even know if she would do it on purpose or if it had embedded itself in her subconscious, the constant need to touch anywhere or everywhere every few minutes. Even when you two were children, Wanda would come up to you every fifteen minutes claiming a 'Huggy Time' or "Kissy Time" and would smother you in hugs and kisses. Now it has become a way for you two to make each other smile whenever one of you gets upset over something. You could still remember the first time little Wanda did it and you were too shocked to move, almost afraid of her but slowly the little girl swept her way into your small heart and you would start looking forward to those special moments with your best friend.

Wanda walked ahead in the corridor, her eyes briefly glancing to the pictures of a baby Y/N, 8-9 year old with Natasha, smiling a toothy grin but still having a timid look as the redhead hugged the child in her arm attempting to bite the cotton candy, the kid was holding. Another frame held a picture of Y/N painting with Natasha, laughing with her throwing her head back, missing a tooth as Natasha looked lovingly at her, their hand prints scattered in front of them on various white sheets. It always reminded her how even when little, Y/N had a really artistic side.

The frame she loved the most was the one where Y/N and Wanda were covered in mud, laughing at the camera holding each other's hands. The little Wanda was trying to throw mud at whoever was taking the picture and little you were trying to stop her. It reflected your childhood personalities and friendship really well. Wanda being a lot more outgoing than you as kids, she would be fighting your bullies, protecting you from the mean kids, including you in all her games, dragging you out to play with her helping you out from your shy indoor self and you would calm Wanda down from her excited state, stop her from making any bad decision especially the one that might cost you two 'good behaviour cookies', you would listen to her go off about the random of things without losing interest something other kids tend to do quite often.

Wanda enjoyed looking at the pictures, they always seemed to remind her how lucky she was to be here with you, after everything that could have gone differently, she made it on time and here she was aware that she could bring you to smile for the rest of her days, like in those frames. There wasn't anything stopping her from holding your hand. Kissing you. Calling you her girlfriend, claiming you in every way possible.

"You want something to drink?" You asked Wanda watching her look at the pictures on the wall as she gave a nod, you were glad for the distraction, allowing you to take in to her beauty without her noticing, knowing you would be too embarrassed if caught by her again. You started leading her to the kitchen.

"Mama isn't home." You mentioned it casually while walking into the open kitchen, taking out some ice ready to put in the vegetable smoothie Natasha makes in bulk for when Wanda is over. "Oh really? Where's she off to?" Wanda asked while sitting on the stool, legs crossing over top of each other, her elbows placed on the island with her head on her hand as she watched you, the look in her eyes making you shudder but you reasoned it with the ice you were holding in your hands.

"Aunt Yelena." That was enough of the explanation as Wanda nodded taking her drink from you, aware of your aunt and her antics. "Did you and Steven sort it out with Darcy?" Wanda asked while wrapping her lips around the straw, sucking up the liquid, winking at you when you paused to look at her, causing you to blush and stutter out an answer, "He-He is over to her place."

"Ha..I see." She nodded listening to your explanation on why Darcy was mad at Steven and how you were in between trying to get the duo to reconcile again when you finished, you let out a surprised gasp when Wanda grasped your tshirt pulling your face closer, "Hey.." You squeaked out a greeting and Wanda laughed softly, closing her eyes very briefly as if to capture the moment in her memory and your embarrassment turned into a smile at the melodious sound.

"Hi. Why don't you try this?" Wanda moved the straw toward you and you grimaced, quickly replacing it with a nervous smile when the older girl narrowed her eyes, "It's good for your health." She pushed it closer, the straw on your lips. You could smell the lavender body wash off her with being this close to her. You could not help but inhale it subtly before slowly gulping the leafy liquid down as fast as you could without tasting much of it. Wanda always being very particular about your eating routine, knowing you sometimes would end up skipping meals in between working on your projects. If she wasn't constantly checking up on you through her texts, she would make sure you get enough sources of iron and other minerals through disgusting smoothies like this.

"That's it.." You tried pulling away but her grip remained firm keeping you in place, "One more. Please." Wanda requested but her voice sounded far from requesting, the gaze of steel she gave you had you almost whining out loud but you could hardly do anything against the dirty blonde haired girl. Between the two of you, she would always get her way with you. But this time you blamed your mother for even making this horrendous liquid, knowing very well she would purposely do it knowing Wanda would make sure you consume it with her.

You finished taking another sip and tried moving away but Wanda didn't allow it and you raised your eyebrows in question but the blonde answered with a sweet smile that reached her eyes as she pulled you in, placing her lips onto yours and you could feel the strawberry chapstick of hers, letting out a tiny moan at the familiar taste, remembering it to be your favorite chapstick of hers. Remembering the first time you tasted it.

You were spending your time on Wanda's bed, chilling with your comic while Wanda got ready for one of her parties, you never attended those with her. The loud music and the people getting drunk was the last thing you would want to see. She was looking through her cosmetics and occasionally you would pick something up and ask Wanda its purpose being completely surprised each time with the answer. You were enjoying your scavenger hunt within her products when you came across the strawberry chapstick opening it and being so amazed at the smell asking Wanda if it tasted that way too. The older girl had only smirked at your question, taking it from you and putting it on her lips before placing her lips on yours, letting you taste the chapstick. The small kiss turned into a makeout session. Needless to say, a few hours later the sorority leader's phone was blowing with texts and calls that were drawn under the moans and screams she elicited from you.

"What's the occasion?" You asked when Wanda finally let you go, enjoying the daze she had left you in from her kiss. "I can't be nice to my puppy without an occasion?" Wanda asked, one eyebrow raised while she swirled the smoothie around.

"Of course you can, Daddy." You answered still not very convinced but if she was giving you special treatment, you were more than willing to welcome it though a part of you kept on wondering as Wanda pulled you into another kiss effectively blocking your thoughts.

Liho jumped on the counter getting in between you and Wanda stopping the kissing effectively, pulling away disgruntled at the disturbance, "I think your mother has trained her into doing all this." Wanda almost shot daggers at the cat who was now comfortable in your arms, giving Wanda one of her famous stares.

You laughed while petting the feline, "I don't know anymore. She is always fine around Darcy." You rubbed your face against the cat, softly giggling at the tingly sensation from her whiskers, before letting it go, "Of course. She hates me only." Wanda watched the two of you interact, a smile of adoration forming on her lips when she heard you laugh.

"That's not true. She is just protective of me." You corrected while you moved the straw from Wanda's drink around in the air watching as Liho tried to fight it. "Oh really? And what danger do you have from me?" Wanda asked, her voice taking in on a suggesting tone and with years of training from the sorority leader, you quickly caught onto it.

"Well what if you try to take advantage of me when my girlfriend isn't around?" You asked playing along, a little more shyly than Wanda but the tingle in her eyes was enough to drive away any shyness, replacing it with an urge to please her.

"Well, Where is she then?" Wanda asked before taking on a tone of fake sympathy, "Does she not take care of you?" She added in a sultry voice, looking you up from head to toe, making your knees feel weak as you squirmed in your place.

"She wouldn't like me telling you such stuff. I don't even know you." You answered her, avoiding her gaze as if she was telling the truth while trying to hold back your smile at the pout on her lips as she carefully approached your side and you gave her a look of suspicion.

"It could be our secret. She doesn't have to know." You let out a small gasp at her suggestion while Wanda used her fingernail to trace random patterns on your arm, she leaned in and once again you loved the height difference, as you stared at her chest, almost not noticing how close she was getting, "Tell me what you need.." She whispered in your ear, licking the shell of your ear before placing a kiss on it. Knowing exactly how much you love it. You were glad for the hold she had on your arm otherwise you would have fallen at the jolt of electricity you felt at her touch.

"I need you." You looked into Wanda's eyes and tried leaning in to kiss her, whining when the woman grabbed you by your throat, holding your head still, her lips brushing yours, turning your whine into a whimper when she squeezed your neck. Her eyes holding you in place as her thumb graze your bottom lip pulling it down slowly before pushing it into your mouth, you instantly started sucking on it with the aim of pleasing the woman in hopes she would return the favor and be a little easier on you. You could see she liked it with the way she took a sharp inhale, closing her eyes momentarily before speaking up again.

"Tell me exactly what you need me to do." Wanda retreated her thumb back to your bottom lip not before wiping your spit on your cheek, smacking it lightly when you immediately didn't start speaking, "I..I need you to touch me. Play with me." You whispered trying to look away as heat rushed up to your cheeks but the hold Wanda had on your throat didn't allow you to look anywhere else but her.

"Where?" She prodded further, her hand squeezing your throat again. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat and you wondered if the older girl also felt it underneath her hand. You longed to know if it was driving her crazy the way it was driving you.

"Wand-" You started to speak but Wanda immediately cut you off.

"Ah ah, I asked, Where, draga mea?" The endearment rolled off her tongue and you knew she wasn't going to stop until you gave in. Wanda Maximoff was in full control of you.

"I-I need you to play with my pussy."

Wanda took a sharp intake and you noticed the dilation of her pupils as she let go of your throat. "Go." She whispered, her eyes flickering up to where your room was and back to you which was enough for you to know what she wanted.

______

"Strip." Wanda commanded, sucking in her bottom lip as her eyes raked down up and down your body with the lust she barely cared to hide. Ever since you had accidentally expressed your body image issues to Wanda, she had made sure to tell you how gorgeous you were, all the scars on your body, the stretch marks you loathed seemed to make you even more beautiful in her eyes. A concept that was hard for you to understand right now but the possibility wasn't completely shut down.

"Beautiful.." Wanda whispered when your naked flesh was revealed, for a moment your insecurities almost made you discard the compliment but the mesmerized look in her eyes had you flushing a deep shade of red especially when she got closer and started kissing every inch of the exposed skin from your stomach to the side of your ribs, just below your bra while her hands slowly started taking off your bra, kissing the flesh that she revealed while getting rid of the piece of cloth. In mere seconds you found yourself down on the bed, naked from the top as you stared up at her still clothed form, your eyes lingered at her chest.

The glass heart pendant you made her in your first year of college was hanging from her neck when she got on top of you and you noticed the way it rested just above her cleavage. The lust in your eyes burned down to the love you felt in that moment when the pendant reminded you who you were to her. No matter how much you two indulge in the most obscene of fantasies, in the end you were in the safest hands, of someone who loves you and would never let anything happen to you.

Wanda must have noticed your gaze fixated on the pendant and she did one of the sexiest and romantic things she could have done as she brought up the pendant to her lips and placed a kiss on it. "Eyes on me, Pup." You felt heat in your cheeks.

"Sorry, Daddy." You gave her a shy smile before moving to wrap your hands around her neck to pull her in for a kiss but was stopped by her grabbing your hands together to tie it with a ribbon you didn't even know was there, "I am afraid a sorry won't cut it." Wanda gave you a teasing smile and you gave her an innocent look playing along, "What will I have to do, Daddy?"

"You my Detka, need to be punished." Wanda whispered, her face inches away from you as she started kissing your lips, devouring them, making you moan in her mouth when she bit your lip, her hand roaming up your thighs, cupping your pussy over your panties sliding in between your lips on your throbbing clit, "Mmm so wet and we haven't started." Wanda whispered against your lips before pulling away, "Who would have thought a mommy's girl like you would be such a whore.." Wanda said as she took off your shorts, leaving you shivering at the cold air making contact with your core.

You whimpered when her hand made contact with your pussy in a smack stopping you from trying to arch yourself more into her, "Down, pup." She reminded you while she started working on her dress, slowly pulling the straps down her shoulder, laughing sadistically you would say, when you whined, longing to touch her. "Bad puppies don't get to touch."

Slowly she got rid of the dress, her eyes locked on you and you could see the effort she was putting in not jumping you. You squirmed in your binds when her bra clad breasts were in front of you, your attention again shifting to the tiny mole that seemed to mock you of your helplessness, so close yet so far out of you reach. You wanted nothing but to learn forward and place your lips on it, Wanda smirked in satisfaction when she noticed the look on your face, her hand moving up your thigh, nails tracing the skin gradually moving up to your pussy, hovering over the flesh but not giving it to you yet causing you to whimper in need. "Daddy..please don't tease." You pleaded and put on your most pathetic face hoping Wanda would take pity on you but the witch only seemed to laugh.

"How adorable. What do you want, Darling?" Wanda asked, her hands playing with your chest, squeezing the soft mounds while her thumb rolled the nipple around, bringing the soft nub to harden.

"Make me cum." You answered and immediately wished you hadn't as the mistake registered in your brain along with the hand that immediately came down on your wet pussy in a sharp spank and your body didn't understand how to react, the pain mixing with pleasure when her hand contacted your swollen clitoris. "Is that how you ask me?" Wanda asked, her eyes fierce and you could tell that you messed up with the way one of her eyebrows was raised in question and if her hand wasn't busy hovering over your pussy as a reminder of what was going to come next if you didn't do something, she would have them crossed over her chest.

"No! No. I meant to say please please make me cum. I swear." You pleaded, your eyes fixated on her hand as you flexed your thighs knowing you couldn't do anything if she were to decide on a spanking, but it never came as Wanda hummed weighing your words, "On my terms." She declared at last and you nodded about to thank her when her hand came down on your core again in a quick spank but before you could cry or protest, the hand didn't move instead parted your lips and dipped into your wet folds causing you to moan.

You wanted to arch up your hips, guide Wanda better but you refrained from doing knowing Wanda would definitely leave you tied up if you made another mistake and the past encounters were enough to remind you how Wanda knew your body better than you. "Ah..Daddy." You moaned loudly when two of Wanda's fingers went inside you at once the wetness allowed them in without any resistance, followed by another. You gasped for breath when she scissored her fingers inside you hitting all the right spots. Soon enough you could feel your walls tighten and an orgasm building up which you were sure Wanda was aware of as the moment you looked at her, her eyes were already on you watching you like a hawk as she shook her head 'No' and you whimpered while trying your best to not let go knowing the consequences would be severe.

"Do you not want it? I don't see you begging for permission." Wanda's fingers started slowing down after a few moments as she mocked you with a tsked of her tongue and you instantly opened your mouth to plead for your dying high.

"Please Daddy..Please let me cum." You closed your eyes tightly as your cheeks flushed a shade darker, trying to search for the dying pleasure, so desperately wanting to move your legs, rub your thighs together, arch your back but Wanda had trained you into mentally binding yourself. You wouldn't move until given permission, too aware of the consequences."I know you can do better than this." Wanda taunted while curling her finger and you almost arched up into her at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

"Please. I will do whatever.. whatever you want.. anything..just don't stop. Please, Daddy" You cried out when she slowed down again, edging you to your orgasm and stopping. It was becoming her favourite game. "Look at me." Wanda whispered, her face mere inches away from you as you opened your eyes to stare in her emerald eyes. "Anything?" She asked and you nodded while biting your lip, "Anything you want." The moment those words left your mouth, Wanda's lips attacked yours.

Her fingers started moving at a faster pace, her thumb playing with your clit, it took mere seconds for her to build up your orgasm again, "Hold it." Wanda whispered in your ear when she stopped kissing you, her lips leaving butterfly kisses down your jaw to neck, you whined at her command wondering what she was thinking before her mouth dropped on your left nipple, sucking and biting the hard nub to life as your senses exploded with pleasure. "Please.." All you could do was beg, your body trying its best to hold back the climax it desired the most.

Wanda played with your chest a little before moving down to your pussy and you almost cried out in relief when she attached her mouth to your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves before tapping your thigh twice an indication that you could let go, you didn't have to be told twice as you let your body reach its climax. Your toes curled as the knot uncurled in the most pleasurably painful way letting you relax as you fall back on the bed, breathing heavier than usual, gasping for breath, whimpering when Wanda started licking up your juices before slowly coming up. You watched the woman with your hooded eyes, as she slowly licked the drops of cum off the glass heart hanging from her neck winking at you when your face heated up in the darkest shade of red possible, "Thank you." You whispered after a moment when your breathing finally calmed enough.

"It's not over yet." Wanda pecked your lips and your eyes widen in fear, afraid for your already tired body, you shook your head but Wanda only smile at you. The mean smile she would reserve for moment like these, "I don't think I can." You tugged at your hands and Wanda brushed your hair away from your eyes as her fingers already started working you up. "What? I thought you wanted to cum?" Wanda asked and you only answered with a moan mixed with a whimper of pain. It felt bitter sweet.

"I am sure, You can handle one more for me, Detka." Wanda flexed her fingers, her other hand rolling your nipple as her hand squeezed the flesh leaving you a writhing mess underneath her. "Pl-Please." You didn't know if you wanted her to stop or for her to continue but begging her seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you assumed that Wanda would know what you want but when her fingers started slowing down again as she reminded you of your promise of doing anything and you nodded, just wanting her to continue the sinful things she was doing to your body.

"The party on Saturda-"

"Yes Yes Yes." You cut her off, whimpering when Wanda pinched your nipple as a consequence of your action. "Will you accompany me?" Wanda finished and you nodded before verbally responding with an answer and Wanda let you have your second orgasm as the reality of the situation started sinking in you but you were too tired in that moment to react especially when Wanda laid down next to you, her face next to yours as she unbind your hands, you closed your legs and whimpered quietly at the sensitivity. "Thank you." Wanda looked into your eyes with such happiness that you felt pleased with your decision to say yes, grinning tiredly to yourself ignoring the embarrassment from being completely naked while Wanda was still wearing her undies. Wanda slowly sat up and the excitement returned in your eyes when the woman started taking off her bra, no wonder Wanda called you puppy with how fast you were salivating at the prospect of seeing her naked chest.

Wanda glanced back at you and when she noticed your tired yet hungry gaze fixated on her chest, she couldn't help but let out a laugh, "Aww my baby, come here." She cooed and you ignored the flushing in your cheek as you followed her lead, laying back on the bed, she guided you to her chest and you instantly placed a kiss on her mole, hearing her let out a sigh of content. Wanda loved everytime you kissed her mole, the first kiss would be anything but sexual, it would be purely out of admiration and love for her body and her. She didn't know if you did it purposely but everytime you would snuggle close or share a moment of intimacy, your mouth would find her left breast placing a kiss where the mole was, clothed or naked. It was an oddly cute habit of yours, one she would never wish to change.

You were slowly drifting off with a content smile, your lips wrapped around her nipple while her hand ran through your hair, sometimes scratching the scalp soothingly pushing you into a sleepy state only to end it when she pulled her breast away from your mouth, turning your content smile into a frown as the woman started getting up as well, muttering something about cleaning you up but you only desired to stay close to her. "Nooo." You held onto her a little tighter, determined to not give up this time refusing to let go causing Wanda to let out a laugh, "Fine. Five minutes." Wanda relented after a moment, her voice firm, holding finality and in that moment you were even grateful for the three hundred seconds if it meant being close to her, hearing her beating heart that used to scare you of each passing second but now it only left you with a feeling of content of the days you had ahead with her in each other's embrace.

_________

Hope you all loved it. We would love to hear your thoughts on it! Reblog or drop em in my asks! <3

@xxxtwilightaxelxxx suggested that you all might like this, so please take a look and reblog if you like it! Hope you all enjoy it! (Sorry for the inconvenience if it hinders your activity) cthulhus-curse

@themidnightcrimson @maximotts @therunawaykind @chelleztjs18 @wellsayhelloaagin @randomshyperson @somewhatgreatexpectations @missmonsters2 @maxislvt @wandasdolly @wndaswife

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[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. lots of innuendo, reader is dressed as a rabbit in a sexy bunny costume and gojo is a magician. sorry for being annoying. happy halloween!

“And for my next trick…well, that’s between me and the rabbit later on tonight.”

A small crowd of your friends giggles at Satoru’s antics while he balances the magician’s hat that should be atop his hair on the meat of his hand by the brim. Lashes flutter in his direction, not yours of course, and you feel the need to play up your affection toward him in response, leaning in with a salacious grin of your own.

“Trust me when I say he certainly has magical fingers.”

The fluttering eyelashes turn in your direction and you smile, looping your arm in his so the two of you stand as a unit. You look up at him, the side of his face and the dazzling glimmer of his eyes and you love him but fuck do you not want to be here. He doesn’t have to look down to know you’re silently begging for him to release you from the duties of being a socialized human being but he does anyway, eyes widening while he pouts down at you as a means to mock your own jutting lower lip.

“Can’t you let me show you off for just a little while longer?”

Gojo shifts where he stands and wraps his hands around your hips, dangerously close to grabbing a handful of ass you’d be embarrassed to have to explain away even in this dimly lit party. The grip of his hand continues to slide further down the fat of your ass and to the back of your thigh until you bump him with your hip and shoot a warning glance upward.

“I would do anything for you but these tights are so uncomfortable and I just need you to take them off of me.”

You see his eyes begin to glisten with mischief and you raise your brows, offering a little innuendo of your own, and if there’s one thing Satoru Gojo can never resist it’s the opportunity laced between your words - the chance to literally rip a hole in your tights to fuck you through. Hands slide back up your ass and settle on your hips, his hat on the ground by your feet.

There’s no room between your bodies and he dips low to press his lips against yours an-

“Did you guys really forget that other people are here again?”

The voice of your best friend accompanied by her snapping makes you blink and turn back toward the group of friends who just witnessed your entire exchange. Biting back a grin, you simply shrug and he chuckles and closes in for that kiss anyway. The group of your peers groans and the two of you hear footsteps shuffling away while giggling against the others’ mouth.

Satoru’s grin grows and he whispers, soft lips pressed against yours between each word.

“Would you look at that, I made everyone disappear. Guess we can go.”

You hum and kiss him back. It’s never wise to discount that this may have been his plan all along but regardless you think nothing of it when he wraps one of his arms around your waist and pulls you along toward the door.

He doesn’t want to waste any time showing off that trick, after all. He’s on a roll.

#kendall writes #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Saying Goodbye

Tom Hiddleston x wife!reader oneshot

Your husband just finished filming season 2 of Loki, thus concluding his long journey as the God of Mischief, but as a stunt double for The Marvels, you’re stuck doing a reshoot on the night of the wrap party when all you want to do is be there for him.

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/N: After watching the Loki finale, as well as Tom’s interview on Jimmy Fallon, I guess I wrote this to process my own grief (and be a little self indulgent)…

When you walked into the wrap party, you spotted your husband immediately, talking to Ke Huy Quan across the room by the bar. Tom’s dyed black curls were slightly disheveled and he was gesturing wildly with his hands, clearly very passionate about whatever the topic of conversation was. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you watched him, until you were pulled from your thoughts by a familiar voice.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Owen Wilson greeted you, pulling you in for a hug. “Glad you could make it!”

“And just in time, evidently,” you added as you pulled out of the hug. “Is he doing any better?”

Owen shook his head and sighed. “He’s not doing any worse, I can say that much.”

The two of you walked over to Tom and Ke, and you slid your arm around Tom’s slender waist. “Sorry to interrupt,” you told them both.

Tom’s eyes lit up when he saw you. “Darling! You made it!” he said excitedly, standing up from his seat at the bar and quickly giving you a hug and kiss before addressing the entire room. “Y/n Hiddleston, everybody!” he shouted, pointing at you as if you were the big surprise guest for the night. Everyone played along and cheered while you waved bashfully at them all before turning back to Tom.

“How are you doing, my love?” you asked him, concerned, as you cupped his face in your hand.

“I’m wonderful,” he assured you. “Why?”

You glanced at Owen apprehensively. “Owen said you were sort of… spiraling.”

“What?” Tom looked at Owen confused. “You said I was spiraling?”

“You’ve been spiraling a little,” Owen said quietly from behind you. You and Ke proceeded to watch the two men bicker back and forth.

“I think I’d know if I was spiraling.”

“I mean, it’s a subtle spiral, but a spiral all the same.”

“Is there even such a thing as a subtle spiral?

“So you’re admitting that it’s not subtle. Good!”

“No, I’m saying there was no spiral to begin with.”

“Oh my god! If either of you say the word spiral one more time, I’m going to start spiraling,” you shouted abruptly.

“I promise you, darling, I’m fine. Really.” Tom attempted to reassure you as he pulled you close to him. You looked over your shoulder at Owen briefly who held up his hands in defeat.

“Alright,” you conceded, before turning to Ke. “I’m so sorry, Ke! I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“It’s okay,” Ke said cheerfully. “Tom was just telling me about how I shouldn’t get too attached to anything because everything ends eventually.” You and Owen both gave Tom a look.

Tom chuckled nervously and then clapped his hands together. “Shots anyone?” he asked, as he turned to the bartender. “Another round of Loki shots, please! And add one more for my beautiful wife!”

“No need,” Owen called after the bartender. “She can just have mine!”

“Oh no, I’m good. I’m driving,” you chimed in, shooting a glare at Owen.

“That’s fine. I’ll just have both of theirs,” Tom said nonchalantly.

You quickly stepped between Tom and the bar. “Hey, maybe we should forget the shots and have a little fun of our own at home.” You gave him a playful wink, hoping to distract him.

“But you just got here,” he protested. “Please, let’s stay for a while and celebrate the end!”

The way he said ‘celebrate the end’ sounded excited and happy, but you could tell it was forced. Still, it was his night tonight (though he would never accept it if you told him that), and you didn’t want to be the one to spoil it, so you obliged.

You, Tom, Owen, and the rest of the ‘Loki’ cast and crew spent the next couple of hours laughing, dancing, and sharing stories (most of which ended up being about Tom), and it seemed like maybe Tom was handling things better than you had originally thought. There was a moment when he reprised his rendition of ‘Very Full’ from the first season of the show, and you thought for a moment, during the slower part of the song, that he was finally letting his feelings to the surface, but as the song picked up again, so did his demeanor. It wasn’t until people started to say their goodbyes for the night, that you really began to see his happy exterior fade.

“I think it’s time to call it, boss,” Owen said to Tom as the last few cast members departed, leaving only the three of you along with a couple of closing staff in the venue rented out for the night’s festivities.

“I suppose so,” Tom agreed with a sad smile.

“We’re still on for lunch before your flight leaves tomorrow, right?” you asked Owen as he hugged you and Tom goodbye.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied. And with that he left.

You then turned to your husband and held out your hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get you home.”

The two of you spent the car ride reliving the fun of the party, and were laughing as you walked in the front door of the house. As you set your purse down on the buffet in the foyer, Tom wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzled into your neck.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

You placed your hands over his and swayed back and forth. “Of course, baby. But I want to ask you one more time…” You turned around to face him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other gently cupped his face. “Are you alright? Because it’s perfectly okay to not be okay right now. You just closed a huge chapter of your life and no one expects you to just take it on the chin.”

As you said this, Tom’s eyes slowly welled up with tears as he finally let go of the mask he’d so tirelessly upheld all night. “I’ve said goodbye to Loki before, and I thought I could do it again” he began, his voice cracking slightly. “But it’s only that much harder now. He changed my life. He’s become such a deeply rooted part of me over the last 13 years. How am I expected to just move on from that?”

A tear fell down his cheek and you brushed it away with your thumb. “No one expects you to, sweetheart,” you replied in a soft, comforting tone. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, causing more tears to fall as he hugged you tight, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You held him there for a moment, stroking his hair while he quietly cried.

“But, Tom,” you continued, taking his face in both hands, lifting his head, and looking deep in his eyes. “Even if Loki’s on-screen journey is over, it doesn’t mean he’s gone. You said it yourself that he’s a part of you. Even if Kevin Feige never calls you up again— which, let’s be honest, is never out of the question at this point—” He let out a small chuckle. “As long as you’re around, so is he, and that’s because you put your heart and soul into that character, much like everything else that you do. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.”

Tom smiled at you through his tears before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. When your lips finally parted he leaned his forehead against yours and sighed. “Thank you, love,” he whispered.

“No, thank you Tom,” you replied, tears forming in your own eyes now. “Thank you for giving us Loki.”

…

One year later:

#tom hiddleston #loki #original content #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston x reader #Tom hiddleston x wife!reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston angst #loki spoilers #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x you #owen wilson #loki season 2 #loki series #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fanfiction