#further down the spiral tour

[macfrog]

faire l'amour sex on fire chapter five

alright babies. grab the nearest museum tour guide, don your finest gumball machine jewelry, strap into your lifejackets and get ready to fall in love in paris - we go again one last time. i could've written about these two in france forever; i kinda want them to retire together and just move to europe and live out their days drinking good wine and baking in the sun. anyways hope u enjoy love u bye!!! 💘

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: it’s your last day away with joel. impulses are getting harder to control, feelings are getting harder to hide, and secrets are threatening to spill over…

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, sugardaddy!joel, cursing, mention of oral (m receiving), ostentatious displays of wealth, probably inaccurate french language, jean-marc makes reader feel uncomfortable, some objectification, alcohol consumption, protective!joel, lil bit of fluff, teasing and excessive flirting obv, a Totally Not Romantic boat trip, reader (nervously) shares personal stuff with joel, themes of heartbreak and guilt, reader sort of panics/spirals a little again, daddy kink, facesitting (f receiving), assplay/fingering, softdom!joel, unprotected piv sex, creampie, angst?? kinda??

word count: 9.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Come – here,” he says, sterner. Eyes dark, flitting up and down your skin, settling between your legs. You obey him, shuffling further up the mattress until you’re hovering over his face, knees digging into the cushion by his ears. “Sit,” he instructs. You stare blankly at him. Your body doesn’t move. “Wanna taste you again, pretty girl,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on your wet core just inches from his lips. “Gonna make you feel better.”

The suite is drowned a milky blue in the morning light. The sky is white – cloud cover as far as you can see. You tug your robe tighter around your body and turn from the window, rounding the bed to join Joel in the bathroom. He’s in the shower, humming some song you’re distantly sure played that night in the dive bar.

You’re meeting Jean-Marc in an hour, in the penthouse of his hotel. He owns four across the city. Joel has told you three things so far: he’s pretentious, he’s a little in your face, and he’s always wearing a blue velvet robe.

He hasn’t told you much more than that.

You click your toothbrush on, and it whirs around your jaw for all of ten seconds before cutting out. Your thumb presses the button twice more, pulling it out of your mouth to find the red light at the base of the handle blinking. Like it’s snickering at you.

“Fuck,” you moan, head tilting back.

“’s wrong?” Joel asks, stepping out of the shower and reaching for his towel.

“My toothbrush just died. Do you have a charger with you?”

He shakes his head, wrapping the towel low over his hips.

“You didn’t bring a toothbrush charger?”

Joel walks around you, eyes never leaving yours in the steamy-edged reflection of the mirror until he’s by your side, when you watch him glance down to you. “Is my toothbrush the one that’s dead, baby?”

You sigh, sliding the brush across the marble countertop.

“Here,” Joel says, chuckling, “just use mine.”

“Uh,” you hold a hand up, grimacing, “no, thanks. Gross.”

“What?”

“You want me to use your toothbrush? That you’ve already used? In my mouth?”

“Same mouth you had wrapped around my dick half an hour ago?”

You stare him down in the mirror, jaw slack with shock, eyes thin. Trying to form words, but he’s smiling so cockily, so amused by the look on your face. He’s proud of that one, ain’t he?

You slap his arm away but snatch the toothbrush from his hand without a word, loading it with toothpaste and flicking the button.

Joel laughs again, nose nudging into your hair as he hooks around you, dappling kisses up your neck, still sticky from the shower. “You look hot when you’re pissed.”

Your words, though muffled by the white, minty foam, are clear enough that they make him laugh even harder. “Fuck off.”

Finding an outfit you think appropriate for breakfast with one of Joel’s rich friends – is Jean-Marc a friend? You don’t know enough about him to call it – whilst also staying in the realm of professional work trip is tough. You want to look nice, look…Parisian, but also look personal assistant. And definitely, definitely avoid looking I’m-sleeping-with-my-boss, by the way.

You settle for a deep red floral dress, split hem running just above your knees, and a pair of white heels that wrap around your ankles. Joel approves, judging by the placement of his hands when he appears behind you in the mirror. You lean back into him as he lifts your skirt, running a light touch up the inside of your thigh, a low growl passing his lips when his fingers meet your lace –

The suite phone jolts you back to reality. Joel sighs, shifting off to answer it.

“Yep?” he says into the receiver. Car’s here, he mouths to you. “Alright, thank you, ma’am.”

He nods toward the door and you follow after him, swinging a clutch under your arm and giving your hair one last toss in the mirror.

“What’s he like?”

“Huh?”

You lean back against the elevator wall, watching the rustic arrow arch across the floors of the hotel. “Jean-Marc. Aside from the blue robe and pretentiousness, what should I expect?”

He clears his throat. Sniffs. “Uh,” he scratches the bridge of his nose, “he’s fine. He’s…You’ll do fine. Don’t overthink it.”

Alright.

But Joel’s being weird. He’s silent when he ushers you into the back of the car, he forgets to put his hand on your thigh until you take his wrist and guide it there, and he doesn’t even hear you when you gasp and point out two white poodles on the street. He barely says a word until you’re being welcomed through a huge golden doorway into a regal penthouse suite, gleaming floors and decorative walls.

Very in-your-face. Very Jean-Marc, going by the little you know.

“Joelie!” he sings, coming over to meet you both with his hands out, shaking Joel’s and patting him roughly on his bicep.

He’s a small man – smaller than Joel, anyway. Hair more salt than pepper. Clean-shaven, pointed chin. And no blue robe, disappointingly. He’s just in a white shirt, unbuttoned far lower than you would’ve left it, had it been up to you, and smart blue trousers. A pair of patterned loafers, too, a huge gold buckle on the top of them.

Joel turns, robotically, to introduce you, and places a hand on the small of your back. You step forward into Jean-Marc’s open arms. He leans in, places a kiss to each cheek, and leans back out, almost like he’s surveying you. Up and down, and back up again. Joel’s hand doesn’t leave your back.

“You are the assistant,” Jean-Marc remarks, clapping his hands. “How beautiful! You are much too beautiful to be in such a boring job. Blegh.”

You laugh, not entirely sure why. Probably nerves. Sometimes it’s easier to laugh uncomfortable moments off, makes them pass quicker, though it pisses you off. Joel’s hand presses a little into your skin, you feel his fingers grip around the material of your dress.

“We are eating on the terrace.” Jean-Marc steps away, fingers snapping to beckon you both forward. “It has a fantastic view of the city, doesn’t it, Joel?”

Joel smiles, but doesn’t say anything. You fucking wish he would. Why is he so quiet?

You both follow Jean-Marc outside, sun peeking weakly through the clouds onto the paved patio, fenced by an intricate wrought iron railing, and covered in what looks like a jungle of vibrant green plants. He leads you over to a huge glass table, set with spotless white crockery and shining silver cutlery, wine glasses at each setting.

“Please,” he holds his hands out, “sit.”

Joel pulls one of the chairs out and looks to you, waiting for you to slide into it. When you do, you watch as he sits silently next to you. And then he finally fucking does it.

His hand slips onto your thigh under the table. Gives the top of your knee a gentle squeeze. The relief washes over you like waves of cold water on a scorching day. Your lungs fill with air and your shoulders relax.

“So, you have worked for Joel for…how long?” Jean-Marc asks, pouring his first glass of wine. He holds the bottle up to you and Joel and you both hold your palms up in unison, opting for the freshly squeezed orange juice instead.

You answer politely – you answer all of his questions politely, with a tight smile on your lips that hurts when you hold it for too long. He asks what you do for Joel, whether you like it much, how you’re finding your trip to Paris. All the while, Joel sits beside you, feeling more stone than human, observing, listening and grunting in answer anytime Jean-Marc makes reference to him.

On your host’s second glass of wine, a flurry of waiters in all white spawn from the penthouse and lay dishes of extravagant food before you. Eggs benedict is about the only thing you recognize, aside from the toast in the rack in the middle of the table, and a bowl of fresh cut fruit beside it.

A tall, black-haired assistant swings over to Jean-Marc when he clicks his fingers, craning around the old man like a raven perched on his shoulder.

“Ce serait bien d’avoir un joli visage comme celui-ci travailler avec nous, non?” Jean-Marc utters in the man’s ear, and they laugh. A little too hard. Laughter that hits your ear like a foul ball.

You decide to break your porcelain polite smile, laughing with the two men. The tall man straightens and glides off behind the table, and Jean-Marc wipes the corners of his mouth before turning to you.

“So,” he says again, another question approaching, “what did you study? At university?”

“Business management,” you reply neatly, lifting your glass.

Jean-Marc’s head wobbles in a nod as he cuts into his meal.

“And French.”

Joel chokes into his glass of orange juice. “Sorry,” he sputters, coughing into his fist, covering a laugh. “Sorry.”

You mask your own smile behind your drink, the sound of Joel choking on his juice making your shoulders shudder with a giggle which escapes in short bursts through your nose.

Jean-Marc’s eyebrows rise, amused and…fascinated. “Even better, hm?”

Joel’s still clearing the orange juice from his airway. Patting his lips with his own napkin. He pauses and his hands fall to his lap when Jean-Marc asks, “Where have you been hiding her, Joel?”

You wince. It’s a gross question, it is. And you know Joel thinks so, too, maybe even worse by his reaction. He sucks in a deep, sudden breath, eyes narrowing toward Jean-Marc. His chest rises and falls abruptly, jaw clenches tight. And then his hand is back on your leg, and you quickly lay yours atop, softly squeezing it. It’s fine. It’s fine.

His thumb strokes your fingers lightly, but he doesn’t react more than that. He doesn’t say much for the remainder of the meal, either. Just cuts pieces of egg and bacon roughly and – though this might just be you knowing him well enough – pretty aggressively, dragging them off of his fork with gritted teeth.

You keep up lighthearted conversation with Jean-Marc; the weather, your flight (at least the PG parts of it), how much of Paris you’ve seen since you landed. You study him when he’s not staring you down, watch the way his delicate fingers slice through his food, throwing it into his mouth in tiny pieces and humming to himself as he looks around at the skyline.

He’s like a mouse. Like some small creature with enough brains and quick wit to keep you on your toes. Everything is like a dance – you find yourself picking up on nuances in his conversation, words which point one way and yet, a shift in tone which points in the complete opposite.

It’s always when that tone shifts, and your eyebrows pull together, polite façade slipping some, that you find yourself leaning more into Joel. And he’s there each time. Steady as a rock, quiet, watchful and protective. A scent that comforts you, grounds you anytime you begin to feel yourself floating off with one of Jean-Marc’s stories.

“Madame,” a voice murmurs behind you, and you turn to find the raven man stood over you like a shadow. He hooks his fingers, nodding over to the edge of the terrace.

“Ah, yes,” Jean-Marc nods, “go, please. My assistant will be happy to show you the view. It is a panoramic view of Paris.”

You nervously stand, letting go of Joel’s hand. He watches you follow the tall figure over to the black railing, where he points to landmarks you’ve already seen from your own terrace. When his ghostly finger points out the Arc de Triomphe, you sneak a glance over your shoulder back to Joel.

Jean-Marc is now sat in your chair, leaning into Joel and talking at him. Chittering, like a bird in his ear. Joel’s face is flat, he looks thoroughly unimpressed at whatever the hell Jean-Marc’s saying. Looks pissed, if you’re honest.

Suddenly Jean-Marc leaps from the seat and claps his hands, announcing that he’d like to take you and Joel on a drive. But as soon as he’s finished the sentence, Joel’s broad figure is standing up to height beside him, towering over him.

“Actually, we, uh…we have other plans today. Maybe some other time.”

He nods quickly to you and you almost throw yourself to him in response. You collect your bag from the table and line yourself beside Joel, nodding graciously to Jean-Marc and thanking his assistant for showing you the view.

“Anytime,” Jean-Marc says, taking your free hand. “It was wonderful to meet you. I hope that we will again soon.”

Before you can respond, Joel’s dragging you off the terrace and through the penthouse, muttering, “Thanks,” as you pass more servers into the elevator again.

“What’s wr–?”

“Nothing,” he cuts in, exhaling when the doors close over. His stare won’t lift from the floor. “Nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I did tell you. It’s nothing.”

“Ooookay,” you reply, lifting your eyebrows. The elevator plummets; you both fall into silence with it. Joel’s shifting between feet, arms crossed, hands tightly squeezing into his upper arms.

“What’s next, then?” you ask, trying to crack him.

His shoulders rise with the breath he takes. “Nothing, baby.”

“Stop that. Answer me, Miller.”

A smile pulls at his lips. “I am answerin’. I got nothin’ for the rest of the day. I’m all yours.”

The elevator stops and slides open. Joel leads you out through the lobby, toward the front door through which you can see Denis’s car waiting.

“Then, why aren’t we flying home today? Why wait until tomorrow? I thought you had big work stuff all weekend.”

“Because. I didn’t wanna come here just to work. Why’d you think I brought you here, if I was just gonna work the entire time?”

You toss him a look and he laughs.

“Alright, no,” he says, opening the car door for you. “I wanted to spend time with you, darlin’.”

You scoff, settling in the backseat. “Hi, Denis!”

Denis nods in the mirror to you, cheeks plump with his warm smile, then looks to Joel. “Where to?”

Joel turns to you. Lifts his eyebrows, opens his hands.

“Wh–? Me?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “where d’you wanna go, pretty girl? We’ll do whatever you want.”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded. But then he smiles again, so sincere, so gentle, and you fold.

Since you were a kid, old enough to hold a pencil, you drew. Crayon doodles of you and your mom stuck to the refrigerator turned to being hunched over a sketchbook in art class, wrist aching by the end of the day when you’d rush home with it between your fingers to show her what you’d drawn. And that turned to tiny sketchbooks you’d carry in your purse for when college became too boring, sneaking them out to draw the face of the professor, stern lines in black ink as she detailed the components of a business model. And that turned to an entire corner in your apartment dedicated to canvases and paints, sketching pencils and watercolor inks – your very own little studio for whenever you had the time.

It'd been on your bucket list probably since that first crayon made its way into your little hands. You imagined wandering around for the day, drinking in all the art, marveling at the size of some of the paintings, walking two, three times around the sculptures. Seeing the Mona Lisa.

“The Louvre?” you ask Joel, tilting your head.

“The Louvre, Denis,” he says, and takes your hand in his.

----------

It’s like a dream. You’re sure you’ve looped the same rooms twice, maybe three times over. And it still doesn’t feel real.

Joel’s been following you the whole time, his fingers intertwined with yours – watching as you lean as close as possible to each painting, eyes studying the detail intently, and then back again, taking it in in its entirety; pointing to the tiny plaques with the information on each piece, reading them to you as you muse over each one.

Your neck aches from turning all over the place as you walk around, looking from wall to wall, up to the ceiling panels, ornate in gold and bursting with colorful, dreamy paintings of the skies.

When you reach the Mona Lisa, you queue for twenty minutes. Joel stands by your side the entire time, one arm comfortably slung around your back as you meander across the wooden floor toward the glass case. He asks you which piece has been your favorite so far; you tell him the one right after he almost got hit on the head by some kid with a selfie stick. He lowers his brows and shakes his head at the memory, and you hit his chest playfully, trying to conceal your laughter from his grumpy face.

When you reach the center of the painting, the enigmatic face staring straight back at yours, Joel taps your shoulder.

You spin around.

He’s holding his phone up, leaning back to get both you and the soft-smiling face behind you in shot.

“Joel,” you laugh, and he waves his hand.

“Smile,” he tells you.

And you do. You prop one elbow on the wooden barrier, lean in to the frame like you’re snapping a pic with a best friend, and push your cheeks up. The camera shutter sound echoes from his phone, and he brings it down, checking over the picture.

“Cheesy,” you mutter, leaning in to get a better look at your upside-down face.

“She’s beautiful,” he replies with a smirk, scooping you off to round the room toward the exit.

You glance back at the Mona Lisa, arm linking with Joel’s. “She is, right?”

He doesn’t respond. When you turn back, he’s smiling to himself, eyes on the floor.

You click alongside him in your heels, weaving between tourists taking photos and guides showing groups of wide eyes and slack jaws around. As you pass them, Joel leans in close to you.

“I don’t wanna take you away from all this,” he utters, “but I got somethin’ booked for us.”

“Somethin’ booked?”

He nods. Hands you a guilty look, and asks, “Mind if we call it a day?”

You shake your head, a little more enthusiastically than you meant to, but you’re trying to tell him you don’t mind. At all. Whatsoever. He’s paid for this entire trip, and apparently has more instore. What you feel right now is the complete opposite of minding.

You let him take you back up the escalators and out of the museum.

Denis sits by the curb, waiting for you both like he always is. He drives you, hand in hand, around the city to the edge of the Seine, where Joel leads you out of the car and begins strolling down the riverside.

The early evening sun bounces along the water, reflecting ochre and amber in gentle ripples. Your arms cross over one another, hands rubbing the cold skin above your elbows, and without a word, Joel pulls his jacket off and sits it loose over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you whisper, as he wanders along beside you. “So, where we goin’?”

“You’ll see,” he says, smiling. “You really loved it in there, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nod, nudging into him, “thank you for taking me.”

“Didn’t know you were artsy. You knew your stuff.”

“You don’t know a lot about me, do you?”

There’s something in his eyes when he looks back at you. Words behind them that he thinks twice about letting slip. Instead, he says, “You keep surprisin’ me.”

You’re walking under the shade of a line of trees, benches sat in between each trunk holding couples enjoying the view, families snapping photos. You turn to watch a couple of kids run by, hoping that by the time you turn back, your cheeks are a little less red.

“Hm,” you muse, “I always wanted to be an artist. A painter. Wanted to sell my stuff, make money turning people into portraits. It was my stupid little pipedream.”

“’s not stupid. Not a pipedream, either.”

“You haven’t seen my stuff.”

“Alright, then show it to me.”

You scoff, tightening your grip around your body. “Maybe. Maybe when we’re back home.”

“Holdin’ you to it.”

You smirk, brushing the hair out of your face. “What’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your pipedream. You wanted to be a businessman your whole life?”

Joel’s eyes are fixed on the pathway in front, widening a little as he nervously laughs. “I, uh…Not my whole life, no.”

“What was it before, then?”

He seems to stiffen. Runs his fingers through his hair, unglues his eyes from the ground and looks across the water. “Me ‘n my…my brother, we had this idea to buy a ranch. Raise sheep, cattle, few horses maybe. Out in the country, y’know? Looked into a few places, but…I guess life got in the way.”

Joel Miller, a farmer. Moreover, Joel Miller, a brother. How come, in three years of knowing him better than most, you never knew he had a brother?

He answers awkwardly when you ask. “Just don’t see ‘im much, is all. He lives out west.”

His gaze falls again and you know that’s as much as you’re going to be able to draw from him. Know he’s keeping that particular card close to his chest.

You turn back to the view ahead, eyes flitting from bench to bench as you pass, catching on something in the distance. Something small, red, tucked behind one of the uniform trees. The glass sphere atop it shines in the wilting sunlight.

“Hey.” You take Joel’s elbow, dragging him over to it.

“A gumball machine? What are you, ten?”

“’s not gumballs. It’s a lucky draw. Like, toys ‘n stuff.”

“Alright, what are you, five? C’mon.”

You stay where you’re standing, crouched to look inside the glass dome at the small multicolored balls, each one filled with a tiny prize. “Joooel,” you groan, and he turns back.

“Baby, we’re gonna be–”

“You said we do whatever I want. I want a fuckin’ toy outta the French gumball machine.”

His lips widen, ready to say something back, and then he thinks better of it. You know him, and, equally, he knows you. You won’t walk away from this damn machine, no matter what he says.

“You know what…?” He steps forward, fishing in his pocket for change. “I notice I’m payin’ again, by the way. First the jukebox, now this.”

You clear your throat, lower your voice, and mimic his Southern drawl, repeating what he said in the Gucci store yesterday. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Joel lifts a finger, pointing at you. His voice is short. A warning. “Cut that.”

He slots a euro in the silver contraption and steps back, holding a hand out for you to do the heavy lifting. You leap forward, twist the lever, and a small red ball rolls down the chute, falling into your open hands.

For a man who wasn’t interested in the machine ten seconds ago, Joel leans in pretty quick to watch you pop open the plastic ball.

“A ring!” you exclaim, slipping the ruby ring from its globe and holding it up in the light.

“It’s plastic. It’s a plastic kids ring.”

You slap his chest. “I like it.”

Joel shakes his head and takes your wrist, pulling you further along the river’s edge as you survey the newest addition to your jewelry collection. It’s tiny – he’s not wrong about that – and it only just fits on your pinkie finger, but you wear it proudly as you follow him along the cobbled pathway to…

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Joel turns, smug grin on his face. “Nope!” he calls, stepping down onto the bank to a private fucking boat.

“You have a jet and a boat? Tryna kill the planet one form of transportation at a time, aren’t you, Miller?”

He snorts, helping you down alongside him. “I rented it, and you’re fuckin’ welcome. Thought it’d be a nice way to end the trip.”

“It is nice,” you concede, feeling a little embarrassed. “It is. I’m just…You said I keep surprising you.”

He holds his arm out as you step over the edge of the varnished wooden boat, wobbling a little when you land. A man in a navy button up greets you, shows you down a couple steps where there’s a white leather couch and a table, bucket of champagne sat on top.

“Damn…” you whisper, feeling Joel’s weight behind you.

“We can get back off, though, if you wanna go play some more with the gumball machine.”

You roll your head back to look at him and he smiles. Gleeful. Like a little kid.

Probably like you did, when you uncovered your ruby ring.

Different strokes for different folks.

Joel settles back against the leather couch and you stand, looking down at him for a second before he’s gesturing you to join. The boat sets off as you shuffle in beside him, leaning back until your body’s encased in his, his arm wrapped around your waist, hands interlinked at your tummy.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, watching Paris sail by, feeling the cool breeze as it whips across the surface of the river and lands gently on your face, and smelling Joel all over you. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet, and it’s still, and it’s…totally not romantic at all.

None of this should be romantic. None of it should have your heart skipping beats, praying Joel can’t feel them through his fucking coat still on your shoulders.

So why does your breath catch when he leans down and quietly asks if you’re okay?

“Yeah,” you say in a choked voice, feeling his beard scratching your ear. “I’m g–I’m good.”

You’re thankful when he gives you something else to think about, in the form of a question: “You like the view from Jean-Marc’s terrace?”

Your shoulders jerk with a laugh. “Ha. It’s not as nice as ours.”

“Nah. That assistant guy say much to ya?”

“No. Why would he?”

Joel shrugs. “No reason.”

He says it like there is a reason, though. Like your answer caught him off guard. He was expecting you to say something else.

You draw shapes in the palm of his hand. “You gonna tell me what Jean-Marc said to you yet?”

“Nope. None of your business, pretty girl.”

You smile. “He was alright, you know. Bit on the nose, but he had a cool outfit. Cool plants, too.”

You feel the rumble of Joel’s response on your back – the way his chest vibrates with the noise he makes. A typical Joel grumble, a Yeah, but also no. There’s a tension between you two, some sort of roadblock with the name Jean-Marc scrawled into it. It feels awkward, and sticky, and those are things you’ve never felt before with Joel.

His fingers are twirling the ruby ring on your finger, round and round. Your eyes fix on the way the sun lights the plastic gem, burning it into your corneas before your brain finally forces something out in attempt to break that weird wall down.

“Bet Martha hangs me out to dry for this when we get back,” you snort, “I can hear her now: Two different rings off a’ two different men!”

Joel’s fingers stop. You feel his cheek turn, his jaw brushing against the side of your head.

“Two rings?” he asks.

Fuck. Wrong thing to say. Fuck.

“I, uh…You know. That was just a joke.”

“What d’you mean two different men?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“I meant, like…I meant…”

You sigh and sit up straight. You meant what you said before: there’s a lot Joel doesn’t know about you. One huge thing in particular, that you only happened to share with Martha one night after Joel had left the office – the two of you working late, checking off a to-do list the length of your arm and relying on caffeine to stay awake. Sharing stories and secrets in the dark office, freeing skeletons you figured you’d never have the guts to let roam in daylight.

Well, you just hammered the whole closet down. Accidentally.

“If I tell you this, it’s between us, okay?”

Joel clasps his hands. Nods once. “And Martha.”

“…Yeah, and Martha. Whatever. She doesn’t know very much about it, anyways. But no one else. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“’cause I don’t like to talk about it much.”

“Baby. I got it.”

The words are drawn from your lips like blood from a stone. They’re heavy, come tumbling out of your mouth like they’re made of lead.

“I…I was…engaged. Years ago.”

“Right.” Joel points to your ruby ring. “I got that much from the rings part.”

You sigh again. Why is this so fucking hard? It’s only Joel.

But then: it’s Joel.

“Not for long, or anything. It was a kind of high school sweetheart thing. We were together for, like, six years – all through senior year and college. Blake Carter. He studied, um, computer science. And on the night we graduated, he proposed. Right on campus, right on the quad. Had this big diamond ring, I think it was his grandma’s, or something.”

“And you said yes?”

“Well, I– Yeah, I said yes.”

Somewhere in the conversation, you’ve leaned back down, back against Joel’s body. Head turned into him, eyes scanning the riverbank, watching the buildings and the trees and the people pass by. You barely even notice until he shifts, clears his throat, and asks:

“’n then…it ended?”

“I ended it. Two days later, I…ended it,” you repeat, with a certain nod. A definite nod, like you’re still trying to convince yourself that yeah, you ended it, and yeah, it was the right thing to do. All these years later.

“Why?” he asks, earnestly. There’s no judgement in his voice, no prying. He just wonders.

“Um…” You shift now, tossing answers over in your head before you land on one that makes you think fuck it. “Just…realized I was more turned on by the degree in my hand than I was by the man on one knee in front of me.”

It draws a laugh from Joel’s lips. A laugh that vibrates through his chest, through your back, and pulls a smile across your lips.

“I was,” you say, holding back a nervous giggle, “I know that’s bad, but I was.”

“And you said yes to ‘im anyway?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Said yes in the moment ‘cause I didn’t wanna look like an asshole, but…well, you’re an asshole either way, aren’t you?”

“Sure,” Joel mumbles, and you almost slap him playfully. But then he says, “You’re an asshole,” with a sarcastic dryness, and you realize he’s not teasing, he’s disagreeing. Genuinely disagreeing.

You sit up again and turn to face him. “I’m not an asshole if I say no to someone asking me to marry them?”

He’s just as defensive as you are. “Not if you don’t want to. What’s asshole about that?”

“Joel, he was on his knees with a ring in his hand.”

“And you didn’t want to marry him. Big deal. I’m sure he found some other girl who wanted that ring on her finger instead, didn’t he?”

You scoff, turning away to look out over the water. He’s being blunt about it, a little uncalled for, but he’s not wrong. You tell him as much.

“He married some girl I don’t know. All I know is she works at some firm, and now they have a son. I check his Facebook every now and then. They just got back from Hawaii with his parents. He cut his foot on something at the beach.”

Joel keeps up the sarcasm. “Sounds like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun there.”

There are a million thoughts racing through your head. More you want to tell him; more you feel the need to confess. More to justify what you did, more to explain yourself and convince him that, sure, you broke Blake’s heart, but now he has a wife and a kid, and he seems happier. And you’re happier, too, so it wasn’t that bad after all.

But Joel doesn’t expect it of you. None of it. He doesn’t make any snide remarks, doesn’t ask questions that frame it as if it were all just one big bout of insane impulsivity. Just accepts what you’ve told him, takes it in with a nod of his head, and then stops talking about it.

He’s so fucking nonchalant it drives you crazy. Everything just is what it is.

Defeated, tired, and quite frankly stunned by how little anything you say seems to bother him, you quietly stare at the water, the yellow orbs of light from the street above bobbing in the black reflection.

Then Joel takes a deep breath, squeezes your knee and asks, “Wanna go get some dinner?”

“Yeah,” you nod gratefully, “that’d be nice.”

It’s a short walk back to the hotel once you’re off the boat – back along the riverside and down a couple of small, quiet streets. Joel holds your hand the entire time and, when you complain about them hurting, carries your heels for you.

Your eyes stay glued to the sidewalk, watching your shadow as you pass under orange streetlights. Your figure, barefoot, skirt swaying as you walk, hand linked to Joel’s, his frame taller and wider, a pair of heels dangling from his right hand.

He orders room service. You vote for pizza, and within twenty minutes, Joel’s bringing it through to where you lay on the bed, already stripped down, makeup wiped off, wrapped in your bathrobe. He made you put the Bart Simpson socks back on. Said they were the comfiest ones you own, baby, he’d chuckled. They’re rolled halfway up your leg, his impish grin on full display.

You pick up a slice of pizza as Joel scrolls through the channels on the TV, eventually settling for American Pie before he lays back alongside you. You blow on the piping hot cheese and take a bite.

“Nice?” Joel asks.

“Mhm,” you reply, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “’s hot.”

He leans over and hits a switch on the wall above the bed, drowning you both in the dull dusk seeping in from outside – aside from the screen which lights Joel’s face in a pale white, like moonlight. There’s a wash of warm light creeping in from the hallway, futilely clawing its way across the walls by the bedroom door but dying on the beige surface when it meets the glow of the TV. Like the sun and the moon blending together. Like day and night mixing right in front of you.

When you’ve had enough pizza, Joel shifts the golden tray from the bed onto the floor, flopping back down on the springy mattress with a sigh. You lay back, upper arm brushing against his, cheek leaning on the tip of his shoulder. It jumps every now and then whenever something funny happens onscreen and Joel snickers. You’d be laughing, too, if you were paying attention, but Joel’s voice is still echoing around your ears.

Sounds like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun there.

Sure. A lot of fun. Slipping that diamond ring onto your finger, and waiting for his grass-stained knees to lift him back up to you to kiss him on the mouth and say Yes over and over, and then run back to your friends and show off the ring and clink champagne glasses, and then go pick a huge, obnoxiously white dress that makes your mother cry and girls you haven’t spoken to since middle school comment on your Facebook posts –

Joel murmurs something with a laugh and your eyes find the screen again; Stifler just walked in on his mom and Finch. It holds your attention for all of three seconds, before you’re back to picturing maple trees swaying and his suit trousers stained green and thumbs on your knuckles and –

– and then meet him at the end of a ridiculously long aisle covered in rose petals, and swell with his kid inside you and raise it and convince yourself that you love it despite the puke and the piss and then stand bouncing it on your hip in an emergency room while it screams the fucking roof down, all the while your boring, bland husband has the sole of his foot sewn up after two weeks playing card games with his even more boring, bland parents and hearing about their neighbor’s new Prius and why it’s not actually any better for the environment, that’s just what the companies tell you to get their claws into you and –

“Baby, you–”

A whole lot of fucking fun.

“–okay?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

Joel’s sitting up. The film’s paused. He’s staring at you, eyebrows arched, hand on your arm.

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

He tugs on your arm and pulls you up to him, hand cupping your face as he studies you intently.

The sun’s setting outside, washing the sky a faded pink which dies out as it climbs higher. The city’s lights blink at you, like a million eyes peering in from a distance.

“Where’d you go?” he asks.

“Nowhere,” you lie.

“Went somewhere. You were starin’ off into space.”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I’m watchin’ the movie.”

But he’s looking from your lips to your eyes, passing across the bridge of your nose as he goes. And you can feel the heat from his body even through two layers of terrycloth, can practically feel his pulse through the huge, steady hands he has resting along your jaw. And there’s a feeling brewing in your stomach – like pain and hurt that mixes up and confuses itself for longing – which drifts further down until it’s an ache between your legs. And that feels easier to deal with, simpler to untangle. Especially when Joel’s right fucking here.

“Just…c’mere,” you breathe, pushing his shoulders back down onto the bed and leaning over him, legs parted.

You want him to fix it. Fix you. Use his hands, and his lips, and his body to make you better. Kiss away any memories of Blake, and that fucking ring, and the way his face twisted when you told him you were leaving. Do more than just kiss them away – tear them from your mind with his teeth on your skin, each mark he leaves just more evidence of your belonging to someone else, someone new.

Someone you wouldn’t recognize if you met her five years ago.

“Baby,” Joel whispers into your mouth, kissing you back as roughly as you’re kissing him. His hands come up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as you fumble with the belt of his robe and tug    it open.

His lip still on yours, he hauls the shoulders of your robe down, the curve of your breasts spilling out over the white fabric. You sit up and untie the belt, shaking it off yourself properly before you’re back on him, pulling his arms free from his sleeves and pinning them down on the mattress.

“Let me – fuck you,” you breathe, grinding your core down on his already bricked length.

Joel’s hands rest on your hips; he’s looking up at you almost awestruck. Words stopping short in his throat.

“Need to fuck you,” you repeat, cunt slipping around him. “Need it, daddy.”

“Alright, babygirl,” he says finally, hips moving in time with yours. There’s a look in his eye that makes you think he knows what you’re doing, understands every one of your thoughts and worries without need to voice them. “I got you. I’m all yours. Just – come here.”

His hands scoop under your ass, lifting you from his waist, and he tilts his chin up. Pushes on the back of your thighs, nudging you further up his body.

“Joel,” you breathe, and his fingers squeeze into your skin.

“Come – here,” he says, sterner. Eyes dark, flitting up and down your skin, settling between your legs.

You obey him, shuffling further up the mattress until you’re hovering over his face, knees digging into the cushion by his ears.

“Sit,” he instructs.

You stare blankly at him. Your body doesn’t move.

“Wanna taste you again, pretty girl,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on your wet core just inches from his lips. “Gonna make you feel better.”

He angles his jaw up again, almost like he’s desperately reaching out for your body, and this time, you meet him halfway. Widen your legs, lower your hips until his lips are on you, and you fold forward with a gasp.

Your left hand hits the mattress above his head, right lowers to grip his hair. Joel’s arms wrap around your thighs, a tight, inescapable hold as his mouth opens wider, tasting more and more of you with each stroke of his tongue.

His tongue which dips inside of you, collecting your slick and fucking you gently, soft and wet and warm. He’s groaning as he tastes you, a low moan which vibrates against your cunt and elicits a similar sound from the bottom of your throat.

You need this. You fucking need this. Need the distraction, need the attention. Need to push every thought out of your brain for five minutes, replace them with pure pleasure. Replace them with Joel.

You’re grinding, rutting against his mouth as your knees slacken, all of your weight held up by your one palm splayed out on the bed, fingers curling around the sheets as you’re edged closer and closer to your high by Joel’s lips.

His hands become rougher, moving up to hold your ass, squeezing the soft skin until he’s running his hands between your cheeks, fingers pushing on that same sensitive muscle as last night.

“Fuck–” You jolt with a gasp, head rolling back in pleasure, core rocking hard against his lips.

Joel mutters a, “’s okay, babygirl,” and cups his mouth around your clit. He nudges one finger against your tight hole, pushing in slowly, and that feeling overcomes you all over again – your body pulling him in, throbbing around him, cutting your breath short and shocking you motionless until he removes his finger.

You whine, opening your eyes and catching a hazy glimpse of the ceiling for one second before he’s inserting two fingers, tight together, drawing a loud cry from your lips.

“’attagirl,” he mumbles against your cunt, only coming up for air long enough to utter that one word before his lips are back on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud as his fingers push deeper.

You pant, whimper a weak, “Daddy…” while Joel moves faster. “’m gonna cum,” you whisper, and you feel him nod under your vice grip, encouraging you to fall.

Your hips move in time with your chest, heaving with the breaths escaping your lips as he pulls you down harder, heavier on his mouth. He’s fucking covered – beard soaked in your arousal, swollen lips pressed against yours, moving, kissing, fucking you so good you start to feel lightheaded.

“Keep – going – daddy, fuck, yeah…”

The feeling starts between your shoulder blades. A sparkling, tickling feeling, creeping up your neck and wrapping around your body, warm and snug. Running across your bare chest, focusing on your hard nipples, and then plummeting down between your legs like a bullet, coming to a climax right where Joel’s lips are.

You scream out, your right hand forced from his dark hair to hold yourself up as your orgasm bears down on you. Your hips grind against his mouth, rocking back and forth as your body is overcome with sensation, with pleasure, with him.

Joel moans beneath you, your soaking cunt all over his tongue, giving you both what you each should’ve had yesterday, before he cut it short.

You figure he’ll never do that again. Never deprive you of it again, never deprive himself of it again. The sounds he’s making, the way his jaw shudders around you, it’s like he’ll never again be able to go a day in his life without tasting you, without feeling you contract on top of him, your sweet release washing over him like an oasis.

And you figure you won’t, either. Won’t ever stop thinking about this feeling, replaying it over and over in your mind. Your legs draped over his shoulders, his face beneath you. His hand massaging your ass, fingers curving somewhere deep inside you. Dragging your hips across his open mouth, his nose bumping gently on your clit as you come down.

Your orgasm fading into gentle ripples of pleasure, Joel slips his fingers out of you and you push yourself off of him, sliding back down until you’re straddling his naked waist again. His hard cock brushes against the curve of your ass when you settle.

“That better?” he asks, voice rough and strained. “You get what you needed?”

“Mhm,” you moan, flicking your hips and running your sensitive folds up and down his shaft.

In an instant, he’s got you in his arms, flipping you over and throwing you down on your back, bouncing on the soft mattress beneath you.

With a squeal, you take hold of his shoulders, smiling as he lowers his jaw and trails wet kisses along your neck, stopping when his lips line with your ear.

“Gonna let me do my job now, pretty girl?”

“Yeah, daddy,” you purr as he lines up. He’s so fucking turned on, so hard that you’ll be surprised if he lasts two minutes.

But then he pushes in, slow, and you realize he’s not looking just to cum. He’s not chasing any kind of high. He wants to feel you, wants you to feel him, too. He wants to really fuck you. Properly. If you were reading into it any deeper than just sex, you’d swear he wanted to answer your silent request. You’d swear he wanted to fuck the pain away.

You both groan, your wet soaking him, his thickness already pushing you open before he’s even halfway inside. He holds you steady by the hips, filling you up inch by inch, your back curling more and more the further he goes until you’re chest to chest and full of him.

You’re so tight, and he’s so fucking big, that feeling him inside you at this angle steals the air straight from your lungs. Your mouth lies open in a silent moan, your brows knitted together.

“Take it, baby,” he groans, arms scooping around your shoulders as he starts to slowly pump in and out. His expression mirrors yours. “Know you can take it all.”

“Joel – fuck – daddy – right there,” you’re whimpering, forehead stuck to Joel’s, eyes flitting from his lips to his dark lashes.

“Yeah?” he pants.

“Yeah,” you repeat, “keep doing that.”

His hips drive deeper, still hitting the same spot, same pace, only harder, with more weight behind it, sending you into a dizzy blur of pleasure and pain. He takes one of your hands in his, lifting it to pin it down on the sheets above your head; your free arm wrapping around his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Something digs into the skin around your little finger, something sharp. You hiss, craning your head up – noticing Joel doing the same – and your eyes land on your little ruby ring, still wrapped tight around your pinkie, digging marks into yours and Joel’s hands with each movement.

When your chin lowers again, face to face, he presses his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue – you and Joel, your bodies and your wet, mixing as one between breaths and whines and whispers of one another’s name. You moan into his mouth, his hips smacking into you quicker now.

It’s working – whatever the fuck he’s doing. He’s driving every thought straight out of your mind before it’s even settled. Scaring them all away, sending them back to the shadows. You’re overcome by him – the sound of him, the feel of him, the smell and sight and taste of him.

And he’s sent spiraling by you – every sound which passes your lips is echoed by Joel; your gasps filter into growls from behind clenched teeth, your whimpers translate into groans from the bottom of his throat.

His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time; whispers of praise make the short journey between your lips – ‘atta fuckin’ girl, my good girl, look so pretty like this, feels good, doesn’t it? They pass your own desperate mutterings on their way – all the places you need him, all the ways you want him to do it. Harder, daddy, faster, fuckin’ me so good.

And then you’re pulling him in in more ways than one, clenching around him, feeling him twitch deep inside you. You’re both right there, right on the other side of that thin glass pane.

“Want – to,” you pant, “to cum – together.”

Joel nods, glancing down to watch where your bodies connect, where his hips push into yours, his cock burying deep between your legs.

“You ready, babygirl?” he asks, eyes still glued to your sex.

“Uhuh,” you moan, head falling back.

“Show me,” he whispers, lifting his head and taking your neck in his teeth. “Show me how good it feels.”

The glass pane shatters. Joel takes you in his arms and sends the two of you hurtling through it.

You scream out, knees pull together around his waist, pussy clenches tight around his cock which throbs, shooting cum somewhere deep inside you.

His head falls limp in the crook of your shoulder, the moan which escapes his mouth vibrating off of your body – your name laced through a whine driving into your hot skin.

And he stays there, for what feels like hours, just lying on top of you, chest meeting yours when your lungs fill, and unsticking when you exhale. His length relaxing, still deep inside you; face still buried in your soft skin, glistening with sweat, lips pressing barely-there kisses in the curves of your collarbone whenever he musters the energy.

He’s still panting. Shoulders rising almost violently, jumping when you ghost your fingers over them. You run your nails through his hair, soaked with sweat, and massage his head, pulling another whimper from Joel’s lips. His head turns, lips against your ear, glazed eyes fluttering open to stare at the city view.

“You okay?” you ask the quiet dark.

There’s nothing between you. No clothes, no sheets, no air, nothing. The room feels huge; you and Joel feel tiny. Lost in your own little world, lying in the blue hue of the still image on the flatscreen. Feeling your hearts thrumming against one another, like they’re communicating through the walls of your chests. Like they’re exchanging words you two haven’t heard of yet. Haven’t learned the meanings of.

“Yeah,” Joel eventually whispers, voice muffled by the way his lips press against your skin. “Never been better.”

----------

Late in the morning, Joel passes you his toothbrush without a word. Without some dumb joke to go with it. Likewise, you take it silently. Rinse it once, load it with toothpaste, and flick the button. He kisses the crown of your head and leaves you alone in the bathroom.

You feel split open. Like you’re walking around with a huge, gaping wound in your chest, your heart on full display. And not just flesh and blood, but the secrets that live in there, too. Secrets that now, Joel knows. He’s heard them pass your lips. Filled in the blanks himself, the parts you held back.

You feel scared. Small. As if every head turns to look at you when you walk into every room.

The only thing that helps is…well, him.

Joel.

And that scares you just as much.

The way he leads you out of the suite and into the elevator, always first, always in front. The way his body is big enough to hide yours behind it, wide enough that you can pull yourself as close to his back as possible and sneak by anyone as though you’re one person.

He only breaks apart from you twice: the first time is outside the hotel, to help Denis lift the cases into the trunk. You linger by the open car door, staring up at the hotel building, the lion heads cast in stone watching over the avenue below. Joel calls over to you and asks if you’re ready to go, and you slip into the backseat alongside him.

The second time is at the airport, where he does the same thing. Gives your hand a squeeze and then jumps out to help his driver hoist the luggage from the car over to the jet. You slowly follow them, this time staring at the white plane in front of you and feeling yourself being slowly dragged back to real life, claw marks in your Parisian dreamscape as it’s pulled from your clutches.

Denis’s smart suit struts toward you and you feel a light hand on your shoulder.

“I hope you enjoyed your trip,” he says, as softly as he can over the rumble of the plane’s engine.

“I did,” you reply, though the nod of your head probably does better to communicate than the pathetic whisper of your voice. “I don’t wanna go home.”

He smiles warmly. His gray eyebrows lift, blue eyes twinkle beneath them. “You are welcome anytime. You will have my email address, please let me know if you are ever back in Paris.”

You return his grin, mouthing Thank you, and he taps your back once more, sending you off in the direction of Joel, who’s waiting for you at the bottom of the steps.

“You good?” he asks, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulder.

“Mhm.” You nod, and glance over your shoulder as Denis’s Maybach rolls away back toward the airport and, with it, takes every last drop of the last couple of days.

The plane cabin feels smaller, somehow. Less spectacular than it was when you were flying over here. The pristine walls feel plain, almost boring. And claustrophobic, like you’re in a padded cell or something.

You sit in the same seat by the window, Joel takes his place opposite you, and you fasten your seatbelts for takeoff. You watch through blurry eyes as Paris shrinks to nothing but shapes from the sky – roads like scratch marks in the surface of the land, the Seine you were sailing down less than twenty-four hours ago now like a tiny, winding snake.

Joel’s watching you. You know it, can see him from your peripheral. You’re deliberately ignoring the look on his face.

He leans forward and rests a hand on your knee. “You wanna go lie down?”

You shake your head, wrapping your fingers around his. “Wanna stay with you.”

“I’ll come,” he mumbles, thumb rubbing across your fingers. “I’ll come, darlin’.”

You lift your head and look him in the eye, finally seeing his expression. And it’s not one you usually spot on lighthearted, borderline-blithe, kinda-cocky-about-it Joel Miller. He looks…he looks concerned. Looks imploring, trying to work out what’s gotten you so quiet all of a sudden.

You offer him a weak smile, an attempt to convince him you’re okay that doesn’t land with him at all, and you know it. So instead, you take a deep breath and nod, and Joel instantly stands up, folds his laptop under his arm and lowers his hand to you.

You take it, letting him lead you back to the bedroom, where he pulls back the sheets and lets you climb in.

“Get some sleep, baby,” Joel whispers, and then slots in beside you, settling the laptop back on his knees and leaning over to shut the window shade. He’s mid-reply to some email from Ken. Another painful reminder of the normalcy you’re hours away from returning to.

You hook your elbow around his, press your cheek into the soft fabric of his t-shirt sleeve. Watch his wide knuckles as they move across the keyboard, typing about buyouts and dividends and other corporate words that all fade into a blur of black strokes on a white screen as your eyes start to roll closed.

The last things you remember are these: the light feeling of Joel’s shoulder moving as he types, the smell of his cologne, and the sound of your voice mumbling something to him. And then you pass out.

----------

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(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #softdom!joel miller #softdom!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #fluff #smut #angst #sex on fire

[thejakeslayla]

╰─▸ ❝ blossom ❞ - ,, nishimura riki

pairing bestfriend!niki x gn!reader ୨୧ genre fluff, best friend to lovers ୨୧ warnings: none ୨୧ translation of Japanese will be under fic!!

you slumped onto the bench, letting out a deep sigh. it had been a full day spent with niki, exploring his hometown just as he had promised long ago when he guaranteed to show you the beauty of japan, his motherland.

it so happened that he had taken a few days off during cherry blossom season, and now the surroundings were adorned with pink flowers.

he settled down beside you, chuckling at your evident exhaustion. the two of you sat in comfortable silence, you enjoyed some much-needed rest while he admired his surroundings, feeling content with your presence.

"ありがとう*," you suddenly spoke, your heavy eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze.

"what?" he responded.

"thank you for the tour, i had a great time with you," you said softly, noticing how his cheeks flushed a shade similar to the trees, his ears turning bright red as he quickly averted his gaze.

"no problem," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle hum of the busy street.

you didn't reply, closing your eyes again and resting your head on his shoulder, unaware of how this simple gesture made his blush deepen even further.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over both of you, niki found himself stealing glances at you, his heart fluttering with emotion. "y/n, there's something i need to teach you if you want to speak japanese," he said, catching your attention, but as you looked at him, you realized just how close your faces were.

then, you heard his voice, speaking softly into your ear, "私たちは前から友達だけど、実は好きになった*," seeing your confusion, he smiled gently, his hand now cupping yours. "you would say that if you were confessing to someone," he explained, his voice barely above a whisper.

your eyes widened in realization, your cheeks flushing. in that moment, it felt like the world stood still, niki still holding your gaze. you could sense his nervousness because of your silence, so you quickly shook off your spiraling thoughts.

"how do i say that i like you back?" you finally whispered, almost immediately noticing his smile growing wider.

ありがとう* – thank you 私たちは前から友達だけど、実は好きになった* – We’ve been friends for a while now, but, truth is, I’ve started to like you in a different way.

requests: open

© 2024 — all rights reserved to user thejakeslayla, please do not steal, plagiarise or translate any of my work !

#thejakeslayla #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen x you #riki x reader #niki x reader #enhypen #niki fluff #niki imagines #niki scenarios #niki soft hours #niki x you #riki x you

[forlorn-crows]

crow. babe. darling. my love.

do you know what i need? i need aeon and dew reluctantly being sweet. all the tension that's hung in the air between them dissolving as one of them sneaks into bed because being alone is too much right now, even if their only option is someone who (they think) hates them.

i know you know what i mean.

oh wow how convenient of an ask. would you look at that. and from my sweet darling mal. however could you have known what i wanted to write today. that is crazy (tee hee)

what is ALSO crazy is APPARENTLY @miasmaghoul and i, onCE AGAIN, have the same braincell and wrote basically the same fucking thing at the same fucking time. no, i literally told her nothing about what i was writing beyond "aeon/dew comfort somethin somethin", and she told me nothing about hers. love you bitch

a little bit of aeon/dew Feelings. breaking down walls and such. @waywardsamaritan inspired me to write them with their fic about dew bein all sweet to aeon.

iimagazh means 'little light' in ghoulish; word so graciously borrowed from mal's big lore brain

Dew flips around for what feels like the hundredth time, smushing his cheek into his pillow with more force than necessary. Sleep continues to slip through his claws like fine sand, leaving a heavy weight of . . . something in its wake. Maybe it’s just insomnia or uncomfortable bus bunks. Maybe it’s the pinprick of emptiness gnawing at the back of his brainstem, a feeling that situated itself there as soon as they left for tour.

He wishes Aether were here. To pull him close with those big, warm arms. Aid his addled mind. Kiss him on his hairline and lull him to sleep with a few well-placed waves of quintessence. 

But he’s not.

Instead, Dew stares across the aisle at Aeon’s sleeping form. His eyes roam over his back, bouncing between his wide shoulders. His chest rises and falls evenly in sleep. Lucky bastard, the fire ghoul thinks. Envious. He can almost feel the tug of Aeon’s magick from here, the tiniest tingling at the edges of his awareness. Dew can recognize it well enough, even if it’s not the same brand, so to speak. It’s more subtle than Aether’s, more demure. For as big as his presence is on stage, his magickal footprint is anything but. Aeon’s is more of a low hum, stuck in a tight aura around his vessel. It doesn’t quite warm a room like Aether’s, big in energy and personality as he is. But Dew’s caught the edge of his quintessence enough times to start to get familiar with its calm, yet electric spirals. 

It’s dangerously tempting now, even with their strained relationship. Dew clutches the pillow in his arms a little tighter, scoots closer to the edge of the bunk. He could crawl in with Mountain, as he’s done already so many nights prior. Tucked himself into his nest of long limbs, drawing close to the steady, grounding beat of his heart in his rumbling chest. Putting him as close as he can to their oldest bond. 

He’s just not Aether. And as much as he hates to admit it, he misses the calming touch of quintessence in general, not just from his mate. 

Dew feels vulnerable. Like his longing has cracked open a chasm in his chest and left him open. Wanting. 

His body is moving before his brain can ruminate any further. He slips down from his bunk, careful to avoid the creak of the built-in’s edge. Dew pads across the small aisle, standing dumbly in front of Aeon’s bunk. Breathing as quietly as his lungs will allow. 

Fuck it.

Deftly, the fire ghoul climbs over Aeon and into his bunk, nearly launching himself into the back wall in effort not to jostle the other ghoul. The quintessence ghoul grumbles a little at the dip in the mattress but doesn't fully wake. Dew situates himself close to his front, moving to curl his limbs into himself so as not to touch. Just enough to be close. 

"Hmm . . . iimagazh. . ." Aeon mumbles, pulling the fire ghoul to his chest and throwing a leg over his hips. The lisp of infernal language makes Dew’s breath hitch, let alone the way Aeon easily slots himself against his suddenly over-warm body and presses his nose against the crown of his head, right between the horns, and sighs heavily. 

This is not how this was supposed to go. He can’t know it’s Dew. There’s no reason to elicit such an intimate reaction from someone he’s barely even touched beyond a civil handshake. The fire ghoul holds his breath and wishes he could whisk himself back to his bunk. 

It only takes a few more moments before Aeon unsurprisingly stirs, brow furrowing as he no doubt inhales the scent of fresh shampoo and burnt spices. The quintessence ghoul lets out a confused chirp, shifting back to blink open his eyes and stare at the ghoul in his arms. 

Dew’s eyes are as wide as saucers, fingers curled weakly into Aeon’s sleep shirt. Aeon flicks his gaze all over, realization blooming across his cheeks in the form of a lilac blush, visible even in the dim of the bunk. 

“Uh.” He clears his throat weakly. “Thought you were ‘Rora,” Aeon mutters, avoiding Dew’s eyes in the dark. He moves to pull away, but Dew interrupts. 

“Is it . . . okay that I’m not?”

Aeon makes a small noise, a cross between surprise and disbelief. He hovers between too far and close enough, breaths as shallow as a rabbit’s. Something unreadable crosses his face, but eventually he relaxes a little. Tentatively rests a hand on Dew’s hip. “S-sure. It’s alright.”

“Okay.”

He’s not sure which of them moves first. But soon after he speaks the word they’re pressed together once more, skinny legs intertwined and Aeon’s arms holding him close. He’s surprisingly dense, if Dew had to choose a word for it. He’s not as big and soft as Aether—he’s closer to Dew’s own physique, with a dash of Rain’s height and limber joints. But there’s still a gentle edge to him, comforting in a different way—smells different too. Like the static in the air before a storm, like cool air and myrrh. Yet underneath the mark of quintessence is something else; sage, a hint of metallic tang, and the smell of sap that bursts from a freshly broken branch. Earthy. 

Dew doesn’t want to unpack how that makes him feel right now.

Silence passes between them, broken only by the shuffle of limbs, Mountain's snores from the bunk above, and the dull rumble of the tires on the road.

"Thought you hated me," Aeon whispers.

Dew sighs. Rubs his face into Aeon's shirt. "Don't hate you. M' sorry." 

A beat. Then: “I’m glad you don’t.” Dew lifts his head up, face now millimeters from Aeon’s, tips of their noses barely brushing. Copper eyes gaze into dark ashy brown ones, searching. The quintessence ghoul reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair back behind Dew’s horns, touch feather-light. And though Aeon’s gaze dips down to his mouth, almost imperceptibly, he only leans in to place a chaste kiss to his forehead before tucking his head back under his chin with a slow exhale. In a way, Dew’s thankful for that. He slips his arms around Aeon’s middle, shuffling as close as possible before allowing himself to close his eyes and release the last bit of tension still straightening his spine. 

Mountain’s the first one up in the morning, dropping down from his bunk with a soft thud. He’s met with the sight of the two lanky ghouls absolutely tangled up in each other in the same small bunk, Dew notably flung across Aeon’s torso and drooling onto his shoulder. The earth ghoul looks at them with amused shock, fondness tugging at his heart a little. 

“Oh ho ho, look what we have—” Swiss is immediately silenced by a well-deserved pillow smack from across the aisle. Mountain frowns at him, miming for the multi ghoul to shut his mouth. 

“Not a word,” he hisses. Mountain presses into his mind instead. That, the earth ghoul points to them, is the best sleep he has gotten this entire time. 

Swiss holds his hands up in surrender, smirk tugging at his lips. Okay, okay. I’ll let the gremlin and his new friend have their beauty sleep. 

#ask #mal #ficlet #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #fanfic #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dew/aeon #aeon/dew #phantom/dew #dew/phantom #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #first time writing the new bug how do we feel #hurt/comfort

[cheese-water]

Charlie is right.

Bolas Rojos won today. They got their revenge after yesterday’s beating. They’ve proven themselves as real competitors. They have literally won the battle today.

But they themselves have orchestrated the war.

Peace is no longer an option. All bridges have been burned for the red team. Any sympathy or pity from the other groups was gone as soon as they cemented first place. And even worse, there were many witnesses to their carnage. Primarily ElQuackity on green, who faced them head-on (so much for blaming the base raid on Bad), but Pol and Tina on blue saw those same chat messages. Like Charlie said, in situations like these, people will never forget. These are how grudges are formed, how small decisions lead to larger repercussions, and how consequences end up mattering after all is said and done.

The Bolas can’t go back now. They’ve made their bed of destruction and warfare, and now they have to lie in it. While the actions of the others may have led them down this path, do not get me wrong. They were not backed into a corner. There are many opportunities to do something different. For instance, the trader village or going full-on cult mode were genuinely viable options. Due to the lack of players on today and the players that were online’s motivation for the competition visibly waning, the red team could have easily isolated them each and indoctrinated them into the group.

To be honest, the Reds’ resistance to joining general vc only furthered their “us against the world” and “peace was never an option” mentality. Disregarding everything pre-purgatory, the only person who actually has positive relationships with the others is Foolish, who made an effort to interact outside of the team (1v1 with Étoiles, chatting with Tina and BBH, etc.). Unlike his teammates, Foolish really has set himself up well for the future, be it for trading, secret alliances, or if, for whatever reason, teams switch. And in games like these, that's how you gain credibility; that’s how you end up being pitied; that's how you survive.

And today, guess who won in that regard? The team in last place, SoulFire. Which thank god they did, because steamrolling the competition two days in a row is how you get majorly targeted. Their lack of progress (which was definitely unintentional lmao), the gen vc basically being BadBoyHalo’s “apology” tour for a bit (which again, very unintentionally focused the blame off of the six kills from their equally bloodthirsty leader), but most importantly, keeping Étoiles, the skilled and need I mention literal leader of the enemy team, company when his team was gone has more impact than even they might not realize. I mean, talk about damage control lol. Like going into Day 3, my bets on who’s group will form an alliance first are solely on green and blue.

Anyway, I am happy not only about the Reds getting the win they rightly deserve but also about the fact that they are aware of what they are doing. The moves they have and will make are purposeful, self-aware of their own “let’s all be peaceful” hypocrisy.

On Day 1, Blue and Green got to be the bad guys.

On Day 2, Charlie can’t help but question his own morality while doing the same terrible things that sent him down this spiral to ElQuackity tonight.

But I guess it's the burden that first place has to bear. I’m sure they’ll all get used to it eventually :)

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #team bolas #team soulfire #qsmp analysis #slimecicle #charlie slimecicle #elquackity #foolish gamers #idk I talked about him a lot I guess lol #How tf do I tag this??? #I’m rusty at posting my impromptu essays #Would’ve been longer however I’m running on 4 hours of sleep #I deserve the treat of rest #btw if you’re new here I used to be a sole slimecicle main this is why I’m like this #Not the first Charlie slimecicle analysis and definitely not the last #yadda yadda qsmp purgatory is a social game and you can quote me on this radda radda

[emeritus-fuckers]

I have only been having the WORST possible days at work recently. I would just love some pampering hcs for whichever ghouls you choose, please

Can you tell I’m fond of three specific ghouls? -Death

On that note I seem to have my favourites too XD - Nyx

Ghouls Pampering You

Alpha

He knows you’re having a hard day at work when he walks in and sees you hunched over your desk cursing at paperwork.

Once you get off shift you walk into his room to fresh sheets on the bed, rose petals across the floor, calming incense lit around his room and the fire ghoul waiting in an arm chair.

He immediately comes to greet you, guiding you to the chair across from his and revealing your favourite meal. Smiling warmly at you.

“You looked stressed when I poked my head in earlier. I thought this might help?”

He made sure you got a glass of wine and were comfortable as you ate, guiding you to the bed after you had finished.

Little known fact about Alpha: he took a massage course once. He’s very good at relieving stress.

He helped you undress before getting your favourite scented oil, massaging out the knots and kinks in your muscles. All of your muscles.

He doesn’t stop until you’re a puddle of very content partner. Then he’ll curl up to you to keep you warm all night.

Ifrit

He’s well aware the ministry is a very hard place to work, especially when you’re in the kitchens feeding everyone with special requests, allergies and more.

So when you skip dinner to get away from the kitchens and relax, Ifrit is waiting with a set of car keys and a smile. Telling you to shower so he can drive you somewhere.

Even though you’re pretty sure he has no licence, it gets you further away from the kitchens.

He takes you to your favourite spot to stargaze, a picnic waiting with all your favourite finger foods.

You both spend hours under the stars, just watching them.

He then takes you to see a screening of your favourite movie at a theatre that does food themed around the movie.

As well as the lovely little dates, you also get several gift cards for spas and other stores you love going to. So you can treat yourself on your newly acquired days off tomorrow.

Ifrit has some methods of getting you off shift occasionally. He’ll never tell.

Zephyr

Zephyr can’t spoil you as extravagantly as other ghouls can. Mobility issues and all.

Though he absolutely gives it his all.

You get a ride on his lap in his wheelchair from whichever part of the ministry you work in. The dork pretending like he’s taking you on a tour.

“And on your left you will see the shortest Papa the ministry has ever seen-“

Once back in your room (or his. Depends on their mood.) he’ll get you settled on the couch with a glass of your beverage of choice and grab a set of sheet music.

They might not be able to stand, but they can still play!

You get hours of a private concert, ranging from songs they played on stage to others he loves to play. Including your favourite song on the piano.

Though eventually, he curls up on the couch with you to spoil you with kisses and compliments.

Especially if they notice you frowning at the mirror more lately. Gotta hype you back up.

Zephyr spoils you rotten with sweet words and music, not that you want it any other way of course.

Swiss

Swiss cares you up a winding spiral staircase. At the top there is a wooden door, paint flaking off it. It creaks loudly as xey push it open. You expect some cobwebbed room and look at the ghoul confused. But when you look back at what is actually in front of you, you gasp.

"I found this place years ago, no one used it so I kinda made it my little hiding place." He says with one of his famous grins. He gently puts you down and kisses you on the cheek. "perfect place to pamper you, my gorgeous one"

You slump down on the comfy sofa with cushions scattered over it and a blanket folded at the end. There is a soft crackle, you look across to see a small log burning stove, glass door on it so you can see the flames dancing within.

Xey open a cupboard and pulls out an armful of your favourite snacks and places them on the coffee table, then xey go back and take out your favourite drinks.

He sits next to you and massages your shoulders, this guy just knows how to get all then tension out.

Accross from you is a window through which you can see the sun setting over the ministry gardens, it's beautiful. You gaze at all the stunning colours while snuggled in Swiss's arms.

He puts his vape on the table for both of you to use whenever you want.

Lots of kisses, lots of cuddles, anything and everything you want he will do for you. It's your evening and he wants to pamper you in every way possible.

Sodo

You woke up that morning with dark circles under your eyes and you couldn't stop yawning. Sodo knew, you needed a break. He gently takes your hand and leads you back to bed. He then tells you to lie back down, any arguement and he'll pick you up and place you in bed. Then he'll tuck you in with a kiss to your forhead.

He says he'll be right back and is gone, but only for 10 mins before returning and placing a bag of stuff on the bed. After a loving bit to your arm then starts pulling stuff out of the bag.

Facemaks, candles, your favourite chocolate, your favourite ice cream and a whole load of films (the Ministry still has a lot of DVDs lying around).

He's a little worried about you looking so tired so he just went for everything.

He puts your favourite film on and lies down on top of you and nuzzles your into your neck.

You pull him into a tight cuddle and he nuzzles you again while making happy Ghoulish noises.

Sodo makes sure that all the chores are done for that day, there is nothing for you to do except to relax.

Plays his guitar for you, he even wrote a riff for you. It's his way of trying to show you his love

Aether

Big arms. Big tits. Big hugs.

I have issues.

But yeah, Aether is a goofy, cuddly motherfucker.

So he starts by pretty much tackling you into a hug and carrying you to bed like a princess.

If you allow him to, he will lovingly rail you into the next day and then organize the most hilariously girly sleepover.

You do ridiculous make-up on ach other.

Nails, too. His are hot barbie pink.

He'll literally let you bleach and dye his hair if you ask.

(He looks really cool in dark blue and purple, by the way.)

You try to watch a movie, but end up in a snack war.

And then you both laugh it out as you cuddle.

Cumulus

She just wants to pamper you anyway, but today was extra special. She could see you had a very busy week and today was going to be a total day off.

She cooked your favourite meal for you. Before she started cooking she made sure you were comfortable on the sofa.

She wrapped you in blankets and put your favourite TV show on.

After you've eaten the amazing meal she'll hold you close and hum softly.

She showers you in kisses and makes sure your every need is met.

She'll encourage you to rest your head on her thigh while she strokes your hair.

You'll also end up having a mini spa day, massages (she gives really good ones), facemasks and she paints your nails for you. She's been practicing and she can now do some pretty awesome designs on your nails.

~

Alpha, Ifrit and Zephyr written by Death.

Swiss, Sodo and Cumulus written by Nyx.

Aether written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @mybotanicaldemise @igodownjustlikeholymary @natoncesaid @bloodmoon-bites

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ask #anon #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #alpha ghoul #ifrit ghoul #zephyr ghoul

[jebewonmorelike]

Mentor? I Hardly Know Her!

wc: 2.6k pronouns: none used; reader belongs to a mixed gender idol group warnings: a couple swears; fluffy fluff; the last sentence is very flirtatious but its just meant to be a joke and obviously so is the title summary: kum junhyeon is totally smitten with planetmaster/idol!reader in this semi-accurate fictional retelling of boys planet episodes 6 and 7 ~bp masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ i literally adore little kum junhyeon

Standing in the hallway in front of an intimidatingly large set of doors, you wring your hands nervously as you wait for further instructions.

This week, you had been asked to participate as something called a "Planet Master" on a new Mnet talent survival show called Boys Planet. Having been an idol for over five years now, you had been asked to make dozens of appearances at award shows, promotional events, concert tours, and fansigns with your group...

But this was your first time being asked to head a solo appearance. Being the leader of your group, as well as the main vocalist and the choreographer, you were used to playing a role similar to that of mentor. At the very least, you had experience providing your members with help, guidance, and oftentimes comfort throughout the past five years.

Waiting inside the set of giant doors was a room full of 51 ambitious boys that wished to shed the label "trainee" and finally debut as an idol.

You remember it like it was yesterday: your life as a hopeful and terribly sleep deprived trainee. It was admittedly unpleasant a good portion of the time, but it ultimately led you to be able to achieve your life's dream.

"We're ready for you in three..." A producer says now, forcing you out of your thought spiral. As he counts two, one, and cue on his fingers, the giant doors begin to open for you to walk through and onto the set.

Planting each lug-sole boot-adorned foot carefully on the ground as you walk forward, you make your best effort to appear as cool as possible as you make your entrance.

You figure eating shit in front of fifty boys on international television is not the best move for your career or your self esteem.

The lights brighten and then dim slightly on the stage to signify your entrance as you finally set your eyes on the group of trainees standing in lines on a set of risers. You watch as the first one spots you, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he points and stares at you in awe.

"Really... REALLY!?" The petite boy shouts, prompting the rest of them to look at you and begin reacting similarly. You stand there a bit awkwardly, mic in one hand and script card in the other. Unable to contain your laughter at the trainees' over-the-top reactions, you bring the script card up to cover your smile.

You clear your throat lightly into the microphone to get the rowdy boys' attention. After a few seconds, the noise finally dies down as the trainees look up at you expectantly with the widest of eyes.

"Hi Boys Planet trainees! I'm leader and main vocalist (Y/N) from Virtual Reality."

"WE KNOW!" One of the boys shouts.

You giggle and continue with your lines. "Today I'm here as a Planet Master to announce your Second Mission and to let you know I'll be helping to evaluate your progress this week. The Second Mission is: Dual Position Battle."

~

You finish your appearance with care and diligence and are asked to stick around to greet each trainee that wishes to meet you. Apparently, every single one of them wishes to meet you and their undying enthusiasm makes it easy for you to happily oblige.

You've seen a few familiar faces so far and wished many boys luck on their journeys, conveying sincerely that you look forward to working with them later this week.

"Congratulations on the win," you say to your old friend Kim Jiwoong. "I look forward to your debut. What is it they say? Third time's the charm?"

He rolls his eyes and laughs, pulling you in for a hug. "I'll make it come true."

As he pulls back, he points behind him to another member of his team this week.

"This is Kum Junhyeon," Jiwoong says, pushing the boy forward. You recognize him now, the silly, but very talented trainee that was always shouting in the first few episodes. A bit of concern seeps onto your face as this usually outgoing boy stares back at you in what appears to be immense fear.

"I'm so scared of you," Kum Junhyeon confirms quite earnestly, causing you to laugh.

"Oh? What's so scary about me, huh?" You tease.

He sighs. "It can be terrifying for a man to unexpectedly come face to face with perfection in his lifetime."

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your breath hitch in your throat. Now you're the one staring with wide eyes.

"This kid," Kim Jiwoong scolds, patting his back. "But can you really blame him?"

"Sorry," Junhyeon apologizes, but there's a look in his eye-- a look that is much more like what you're used to seeing on Junhyeon-- that suggests he doesn't really regret his words.

You smile slowly. "Sure you are."

The brightest grin spreads across his face now, clutching his heart a bit in a humorously dramatic display. You laugh as Jiwoong starts to drag him away.

"Why'd you do that, huh? Now we'll never get him to shut up," the older boy whines as he shoots you a death glare. You just wave as you watch Jiwoong and another trainee push a babbling Junhyeon out the door.

~

You've seen eight teams already from the Vocal & Dance and the Vocal & Rap categories. You stuff a granola bar into your mouth as pH-1, Lee Seok-hoon and Choi Young-joon finish filling out notes for the last team.

In the back of your mind, you can't help but wonder why you haven't seen that kid from the other day yet. Isn't he a singer?

The Rap & Dance teams start to shuffle in through the door now as you stuff the wrapper of your granola bar into your bag. The last person to enter is Kum Junhyeon.

He doesn't look fearful today. He looks kind of sad.

"Ggang team, let's go," Young-joon announces, prompting five boys including Junhyeon to stand up.

They line up in front of your little panel, Seok-hoon asking to hear a run-through of their rap and vocals first. As the team performs, all except Junhyeon sing and rap with enthusiasm. His eyes stay locked on his paper as he seems to do only the bare minimum.

When they finish, the Star Masters in the room nod as they think. As they're checking their notes, you turn to Seok-hoon.

"May I say something?" You ask politely, to which Seok-hoon nods enthusiastically.

"Please do," he allows.

You nod, chewing on both cheeks as you look down at your paper. "Kum Junhyeon."

The silence in the room is deafening before Junhyeon finally responds, "Y-... Yes?"

You look up, meeting his eyes now with a completely unamused expression. It takes everything in you to hold it when Junhyeon suddenly returns to looking like Bambi.

"Was this supposed to impress me?"

Junhyeon's mouth falls open slightly and so does everyone else's in the room as they take in your rhetorical question.

"I've been waiting for your performance all day and that was all you've left me to sit with. Am I supposed to feel this insulted? Was that the intention?" You ask, not letting up.

"No, no! Of course not. I'm sorry, sunbaenim," he apologizes and you're sure he's never looked so sad in his life.

"The only form of apology I'll accept is a good performance," you say, now all of your effort going towards suppressing a smile.

He nods vigorously.

"Well, I don't have any other notes," Seok-hoon confirms, nodding at pH-1 in agreement. "Young-joon, are you ready for the dance?"

But Young-joon is staring at you. "Wow... I will pray for your members daily from now on."

You can hear the boys sitting on the left side of the room chuckle. "I think it's important to make sure the most talented people are performing to their potential," you say with a smile, the whole panel turning back to watch the Ggang team's full performance.

As you expected, Junhyeon performs flawlessly-- an energy radiating out of him that is utterly infectious.

"So..." Young-joon starts. "Will you forgive him?"

"Oh, um..."

Looking up, you see Junhyeon biting his lip so hard in anticipation that you're afraid he'll start bleeding.

"Yes," you answer simply with a smile.

Junhyeon suddenly falls to the floor in a full bow. "Thank you, sunbaenim!!"

Everyone bursts into laughter as he sits up, absolutely beaming at you.

You click your tongue, looking around disbelievingly as you can't help but smile back at him. "Just don't do it again, yeah?"

He nods furiously.

"Good job," you praise softly, sinking back into your seat as the Ggang team's evaluation concludes.

~

"Open wide," Kel-C says, popping a piece of caramel popcorn into your mouth lovingly.

On the screen of your dorm's giant television, this week's episode of Boys Planet is coming to an end. This means, your appearance is soon to be aired any second now.

"I can't believe you went without us," Eunwoo whines with a pout. "Do you not need us anymore?"

You laugh, ruffling up the hair of your maknae. "I'll need you for as long as you need me. And maybe then some."

"Yet you're out here getting caught in dating scandals left and right," Mari accuses, scrolling through her phone disinterestedly as she stirs the metaphorical pot.

"What? Left and right!? That's--," you stutter, caught off guard by her statement. "That's hardly true."

"OH MY GOD!" Eunwoo cries, taking both of your hands in his. "You met someone while you were filming!? Who!?"

"Ssh! Look, it's happening!" Kel-C shouts, directing everyone's attention back to the television as music signals the appearance of someone on the stage.

You cover your eyes as past-you comes onto the screen, the elements of the set becoming so hilariously dramatic for your silly little entrance. Mari bursts into laughter and you groan in response.

You watch through your fingers as the camera pans to capture the reactions of the boys. Most of them are appropriately excited to see you, jumping around and shouting with their friends.

But one reaction in particular has you suddenly ripping the remote from Eunwoo's hand, rewinding the show and crawling towards the television to make sure you're hearing and seeing properly.

"Seriously..." Kum Junhyeon stands uncharacteristically still with Taerae and Jongwoo on either side of him. "How am I ever supposed to perform in front of the love of my life?"

Taerae laughs, comfortingly patting Junhyeon's back. "It'll be okay."

The screen cuts to a confessional of Junhyeon. He's biting his lip, almost shy as he speaks to the camera. "(Y/N)-nim has been my crush since Virtual Reality debuted. There's nobody else like (Y/N)."

A producer off camera says, "You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

Junhyeon laughs lightly and then nods. "Unfortunately I couldn't react with proper excitement, because I was so nervous. I hope I can be forgiven for this."

The producer off screen speaks again. "Maybe aegyo will help?"

Junhyeon grins now, his voice becoming child-like and his hands producing two finger hearts. "I'm sorry, sunbaenim! Saranghae!"

You hit the pause button, hugging your knees to your chest tightly as you failingly try to suppress a squeal. What was wrong with him? How could he be so careless? And how could he be so damn cute?

As your members suddenly yank you back towards them, shrieking their simultaneous approvals and disapprovals, all you can hear is that absolutely crazy boy confessing his love for you on international television.

~

"ARE YOU INSANE!?" You yell, smacking Junhyeon's shoulder in the hallway behind the stage.

The mission two show has already begun and any minute now, you are supposed to make your way backstage to introduce the first team: Junhyeon's team.

"Yes," he answers seriously. "Please hit me again."

Your eyes widen, guffawing at the absolute nerve of the kid in front of you. "Junhyeon! Are you really going to be this reckless? Don't you want to debut? You know that people won't vote for you if you keep acting like this."

He nods. "You watched the episode this week."

Unsure of what to say, you just sigh.

"I meant it," he says simply, eyes staring back at you sincerely.

"It doesn't matter if you meant it. You're... Junhyeon, you're so talented. You really have a shot here. Please don't waste it on saying cute things to me."

He smiles. "You think the things I'm saying are cute?"

You can't help but laugh now. "I can't stop you, can I?"

"No," he confirms. "Unless you really want me to. I don't know if you've noticed, but... you haven't actually told me to stop yet."

An exasperated sigh escapes you as you seriously consider hitting him again. "No. I guess I haven't."

He grins. "Do you have your phone on you?"

"Yeah," you say, pulling it out of your pocket. "Why?"

Before you can even react, Junhyeon gently snatches your phone from your hands. He holds it in front of your face for a second to unlock it.

"Hey, what are you--?" As you begin to protest, he finishes typing something and hands it back to you. You look at the screen to see a new contact by the name of Hyeonni.

"You can delete it if you want. But I had to try, right?" He smiles so sweetly that all you can respond with as he walks toward the stage door is:

"Right."

With the Ggang team all lined up on stage, the boys make their individual introductions.

Reading your line from the teleprompter, you direct your attention towards Junhyeon to speak. "Trainee Kum Junhyeon, I heard that the atmosphere was not good when this team was formed. What happened?"

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his face. "When we got Ggang, I was perplexed," he begins, using his whole body to speak in that classic Junhyeon way. "I thought of the opportunity as a crisis."

You expertly suppress the urge to facepalm.

~

As the Ggang performance begins, you watch from offstage as the team shows off their talents. Junhyeon's choreography and all of the members' raps are absolutely killing with the audience. But you're ripped out of your spell of admiration when you hear someone suddenly shout:

"SUNBAENIM!" Junhyeon yells, pulling up his shirt to reveal a t-shirt underneath with a set of washboard abs printed on it. A camera is on you immediately, trying its best to caption your reaction and you're absolutely sure it's TV-worthy.

"Do you think this is too reckless!?" Junhyeon sticks the hem of his over shirt in his mouth as he proceeds to "seductively" gyrate his hips.

Both of your hands are covering your gaping mouth, eyes wide as you're unable to look away from the absolute maniac of a man on stage. Junhyeon turns around, humorously sticking his butt out and wiggling it around.

You find yourself unable to contain your laughter now, shaking your head in disbelief at the boy's impossible antics. Yet, in an instant, Junhyeon returns to his professional self, completely annihilating a dance break and singing perfectly the funny new lyrics he wrote.

In the confessional from the episode you'd watched this week, Junhyeon had said there was no one else like you. You wonder now if he knows the same is true about him.

After the performance is finished, you run out the backstage doors into the hallway. You only have a minute or so to pull out your phone before you have to go back inside to introduce the next group of contestants. But its enough time to send your new contact a text:

You're a fucking enigma.

Smiling like an absolute idiot, you send a follow-up:

Dinner's on me if you show me what's really under the shirt.

#boys planet #boys planet imagines #boys planet drabbles #bp999 #bp #bp999 imagines #bp999 drabbles #kum junhyeon #kjh #kum jun hyeon #kum junhyeon imagines #kum junhyeon drabbles #junhyeon drabbles #junhyeon imagines #kpop #kpop fics #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #boys planet fics #bepler #kim jiwoong #mnet #mnet boys planet

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, manipulation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The dull hues speckle in your vision. You've grown used to the haze and when it fades, you long for it. The pain melts way enough for comfort but not enough to be forgot. Always there, always aware of your own futility. 

It isn't the pain that rouses you that night but a sensation just as pertinent. At first, you're not sure what it is. Gentle waves on your skins, spirals that raise bumps, caresses that make you shiver.

You bring your hand up to meet another. Your touch lingers on Jonathan's wrist as your lashes flutter open. His silhouette is limned by the lamp behind him. The shadows set his features in a sinister way.

You murmur but don't speak. He hushes you, trading the strap of the sling that binds your arm. You groan at the ripple of pain underlined by something more. Something unbidden.

“All I want, dear, is for you to feel better,” he says as he pets your cheek, “do you know that? It's all I've ever wanted.”

You blink. You have no strength to argue. To point out the obvious. He's the one who has you at your worst.

“That day in the bookshop, when we met,” he turns onto his shoulder and lays on his side, “you looked lost and I felt as if I'd found you.”

You shake your head and squint. His words confuse you. He weaves such sweet soliloquys yet what he's done cannot be painted with pretty lies.

“You put that man above you for how long? And even after he abandoned you, you still could not put yourself first,” he cradles your face, “darling, can't you see that's all I'm doing.”

“No…” you whisper and close your eyes. 

You whimper and try to turn your face away. He catches your chin and tuts, keeping you in place as he lifts himself again. He surprises you as his lips meet yours. He kisses you softly, as if he means every word he says. A new sort of pain sparks in you.

He lets his fingers dance to your hairline. He moans into your mouth as his tongue delves inside. You squeeze your eyes tight, unable to resist. As much as you could blame the drugs, you know it's as much your own weakness. Just like those days you laid on your back and fulfilled your vows.

His fingertips graze your temple and cheek, down tour neck and along the crook of your collarbone. Further and further, feeling you through the light layer of fabric. That too big tee shirt that serves as your only shield.

He grips your hip as he leans over you, the slight pressure of his weight makes you squirm. You break away from his lips and gasp, grabbing him with your free hand, the sling keeping you trapped below him. 

“Please, Jonathan,” you beg.

“Darling, darling,” he kissed along your chin, “I only want to take care you, hm? Just because he never did, doesn't mean no one will.”

“No, stop,” your voice crackles, “please…”

“Sorry, darling, sorry,” he rasps between nibbles along your neck, “I won't mention him. It's best…” he kisses your shoulder, “if we both forgot that pesky ex.”

“N-no,” you squirm, “please…”

“I won't…” he let's the sentence dangle, “no, I only want a little.”

You wriggle, groaning at the agony it nails into your bones. You still to quiet the pangs, whining as he lifts himself over you. His hand wanders up and down your side as his lips descend your body.

He pushes up the bottom of the tee and bares your stomach. You babble and hide beneath your eyelids. He rolls the fabric above your chest as his lips tickle the tender flesh there. You quiver as he nips and pecks at you.

For a moment, you think it might be delirium. That the painkillers have skewed your mind. You want to believe it but it's all too real.

Just as real as that flamed stoked in your core. That glimmer of desire that lights your horror. You shouldn't like it. You shouldn't want it. It's that desire that comes from neglect. Of desperation.

His hand roves over your body, admiring you, worshipping you. No, consuming you, controlling you, violating you. You shudder as he teethes and kisses along your chest, toying with your sensitive buds and your overwrought nerves.

“It feels nice, doesn't it darling?” He speaks into your flesh, “I can tell, the way you tremble…”

You let out a moan, tortured but easily mistaken for delight. His hand brushes along your hip and down your thigh. He cloying drags his fingers back and forth, circling nearer and nearer your vee. 

You bite your lip as he nudges you lightly, shifting his legs between yours. He hovers over you, smothering your lips once more. He kisses you hungrily as his fingers trail along your pelvis. He delves between your folds as he swallows your groan.

He rubs you, slow but firm, curious but certain. His touch awakens your body even as your mind stays foggy. He draws pleasure from you easily. Expertly. 

As before, you are defenseless. You have no way to resist him. He is above you in every way. More than physically. 

He rolls your bud beneath his fingertips. He kisses you ravenously, puffing and panting, moving his hips in time with his hand. He slides his fingers down and dips them inside you, pressing the heel if his hand against you.

He rocks his hand, electricity shooting down to your toes and up to the crown of your head. You tense as the unyielding pain mingles with your stolen delight. You whine and turn your head away, his lips smearing across your cheek.

He breathes in your ear, growling as he tilts his hand, adding to the pulsing pressure in your core. You can feel how wet you are. You can hear it. You bite back another moan.

This isn't fair. It isn't. But life has never been very fair to you. Nor have the men in it.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #drabble #series #au #helping hand #bookstore au #the night manager

[f4ll-for-you]

For You | Modern Aegon

Kind of a part two for Backstage

Warnings: substance abuse.

Although you’d been with Aegon for several months now, you were still full of insecurities about your relationship, especially considering he was basically a beloved rockstar. Girls fawned over him after every show, trying to get photos, asking him to sign their tits. This was something he used to adore, reveling in the love and attention, until he found you. Since then, you were the only girl he saw, in his eyes, you saved him. Getting him out of his addiction spiral that had landed him in hospital more times that he’d admitted to. 

Despite that, your insecurities burned a hole inside your chest. You weren’t a party girl like his previous flings, you much preferred a quiet night in on the sofa. However, every night on your boyfriend's latest tour, you’d be there as his number one fan, right at the front of each show. 

You’d spent countless nights wondering if it bothered Aegon that you pulled him away from his old lifestyle. You’d never been interested in drugs, only opting for a cocktail of some kind, getting drunk occasionally. It was no secret to his fans or the media that Aegon enjoyed a reckless night out or two. These thoughts had burdened your nights throughout the whole tour, finally making you decide to let loose for once.

You found yourself at the afterparty, something that happened after almost every show. Aegon had agreed to go, usually opting to miss these things now he was with you, only increasing your guilt further. 

“Baby, I’m gonna get us drinks, I’ll be right back” Aegon spoke softly, kissing you on the forehead before making his way to the bar, you smiled and nodded in response. You walked over to the rest of the band, joining them at their chosen booth. 

“Y/N! Hey! Did you like the show?” Aegon's best friend and bandmate Cregan Stark shouted over the music, grinning at you. “You guys smashed it as always!” You grinned, shouting back as you sat down opposite the shaggy haired boy. 

“Where’s blondie?” Cregan asked, using Aegon's least favorite nickname.

You giggled, “He’s getting me a drink.” You fall into conversation with Cregan, trying to change the subject to the thing you wanted, until he pulls a baggie out of his pocket, along with his credit card. You bite your lip, eyes focused on the lines placed in front of you.

“You want some?” He asked, looking up at you, seeing the desire and worry that laced your eyes.

“Is that a good idea?” Arryk protested, pulled out of his flirty conversation with the leggy blonde next to him.

“Oh, come on, she’s Aegon’s girl, she probably does this shit all the time” Cregan retorted, being the bad influence he’d always been on your boyfriend.

Aegon turned to look for you in the crowd, caught up in conversation with the band manager. His eyes lock on to you when he notices the white powdered lines on the table and your hands scrabbling in your purse to find a note. He feels sick, the whole room goes into slow motion as he ignores his manager and runs towards you, spilling most of your drinks on the way. Thoughts rushed around his head, there's no way you would accept drugs from his friends, you were better than this, better than him. 

“What the fuck,” he shouts, slamming the drinks down on the table. He reaches out his hand and wraps it under your chin, roughly pulling your head up as your eyes meet his. Your eyes wide, your nostrils dusted in the white powder he loathed. Fuck, what had he done, why had he left you. 

Aegon pulls his hand away, running his fingers through his hair and immediately turning to his friends, he is seething. “Aegon, Mate! Sit with us” Cregan mumbles, his own bump hitting him, his pupils wide. 

“Did you give Y/N coke?” he almost whispered, trying to keep his anger at bay and failing.

Cregan just shrugged, “she’s your girl, man, what do you expect, it’s probably been hours since her last hit.” Aegon turned, his hand on his forehead, glancing at your dopamine filled state.

“She’s never fucking done drugs” Aegon replies, grabbing his friend by the hair, shouting in his face. 

“She’s meant to be better,” he almost cries, more to himself than to his friend. Before Cregan can register his words, he grabs you up gently, his arm under your shoulder blade, walking you out of the club. You mumble words at him as he walks you out, a large smile plastered across your face. 

“Baby, I’m one of you guys now!” You giggle, proud of yourself. 

Aegon’s heart drops at your words. Is this what you think he wants? His mind runs through everything he's said to you, terrified and angry that he’s made you feel this way, made you do this. It's all his fault.

He doesn’t reply, not that you notice, as he walks you back to your shared hotel room, silently thanking his manager for booking the closest hotel. 

As he gets you out of the lift, you perk up, a burst of energy exploding out of you. You wiggle out of his arms, giggling and running down the corridor. “Fuck” he whispers, “Y/N, baby!” he shouts down the corridor, running after you. Part of him wants to smile, enjoying your happy state, how your smile lights up your features, but no, not like this. You can’t find happiness in this. 

Aegon ends up chasing you for ten minutes, exhausted and breathless by the time you fall into his arms once more. Your body slumps into his as he tries to lead you to your room, barely remembering where it is. 

“You okay angel?” Aegon asks, noticing your sudden change in mood. He knows the sadness is hitting you, the high never lasts long. He knew this was coming, waiting for your moment of euphoria to pass. 

“Mmmm my head feels funny” you mumble to him, leaning your body weight into his broad chest. He sighed, wishing you could just miss out this part, the storm before the tsunami. 

“I know, let's go to our room and cuddle” he whispers into your hair, kissing you gently. You nod in response, your eyes glassy and exhausted.

Aegon walks you into the room, picking you up and placing you gently onto the bed as you roll around, your head fuzzy and confused, anxiety filling your body. You moan into the sheets as Aegon lies beside you, stroking you to help calm you down. Suddenly, you feel awful, running to the bathroom you collapse in front of the toilet. Aegon rushes behind you, holding your hair back and stroking you. “It's okay, get it all out” he coos, wincing at the pain you were in, the guilt of how he’d made you feel consuming him. 

You finally stop dry heaving, slumping back onto the tiled floor, pulling off your uncomfortable dress and bra, leaving yourself in only panties. “You usually like this,” you sigh, pointing to your almost naked figure. 

“I prefer you sober, baby,” Aegon replies, half chuckling as he pulls you on your feet, handing you your toothbrush before walking back into the bedroom. He grabs your favorite hoodie of his, placing it on the bed for you, before getting a glass of water to place on the bedside.

The bed felt like heaven as you snuggled into it, Aegon sliding in next to you. Watching your every move, as if you would disappear any second. Your throat felt dry and uncomfortable as you gulped down the water Aegon had left for you. “Hey, hey, slow down, you’ll make yourself sick again” he spoke, gently pulling the glass from your lips. He settled you down in bed, spooning you from behind, trying to get you as close as possible to keep you safe. 

“Baby,” he whispered, knowing the anxiety that would be covering your face as he spoke “why did you do this.” You sighed, the buzz of the drug still vaguely in your system, the effects wearing off, making you feel furious with yourself. 

“I thought I was holding you back, making you feel like you had to change because you were with me,” you whispered in reply, your voice wobbly. 

Aegon sighed, pulling you closer and nestling his face into your hair. “I have changed because of you” he responds, making your heart pang with worry, waiting for his next words. “But, I wanted to, you’ve made a better man, you are everything to me my love.” 

You hadn’t expected to hear those words, he really felt that way? 

He wanted this sweet, cozy, settled down life with you? As if he could read your thoughts, he whispered, “I love my life now, and I love you, Y/N, so please, never do that again.” 

You turn to face your boyfriend, looking deep into his violet orbs. “I promise,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed about your actions. Aegon loved you for you, and you needed to remember that. 

#aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii #aegon ii x you #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #modern aegon #aegon targaryen headcanons #aegon the second #aegon fanfic

[pml1986]

Original collection of artwork for The Downward Spiral, they are all works very beautiful created by Russell Mills so I leave them here, I hope enjoy.

#nine inch nails #trent reznor #nin #1994 #further down the spiral tour #closure #march of the pigs #closer #art work #russell mills

[lomllover]

grammys day

summary: y/n and harry are there to support each other at the grammys

warnings: so much fluff omg

pairings: husband!harry x fem!reader

word count:

"Y/N and Harry over here, to your right!!"

"Jesus, they're so loud and demanding." Harry said loud enough so only you could hear which made you let out a giggle.

"That's their job, H." You turned to look at him and picked up your dress with one hand and held his hand in the other. "Lets keep going, yeah?"

As the pictures went on, the more Jeff nagged the both of you to hurry up otherwise you’d be late for your performance and Harry would be late for his. “Jeffery, calm down its gonna be okay.” You jokingly reassured him and climbed into the limo. “H, let’s take a picture.” You handed Jeff your phone to take a picture and smiled at Harry as he pressed a kiss to your cheek then made you face him so he could kiss you on the lips.

Jeff made a fake gagging noise and you flipped him off while still kissing your husband. “Okay okay, I think I got the picture. You can stop kissing now.”

-

“Now before we move onto our next performance by Y/N Styles, I’m here with her incredible husband, Harry Styles!” Trevor said and the audience clapped. “I mean what can you say about this man that hasn’t been said, huh? Incredible album.. Mind blowing tour. What is it? 15 nights at MSG AND the Forum? Women throw their panties at this man,” He pretended to throw something, “And he puts them on and he looks better in them than they do.”

You were watching backstage and could tell Harry was very uncomfortable but what Trevor said next really made your blood boil.

“Easily the worlds sexiest man! Are you- There’s no competition! Sex. Symbol. Of the globe. Especially now that they’ve killed off the green M&M, no competition. R.I.P. This is the room, people. We’ve got LA’s very own Y/N Styles joining us now performing her hit song, Lavender Haze!” He finished and you smiled as everyone turned their attention to you. You had on a new dress since your other one was definitely too big to preform in.

The music started to play and you looked over to where Harry was sitting and gave him a small wave. The intro of the song started and you took a deep breath then began talking. “Grammys! How are we tonight??” You asked and the crowd cheered.

“Staring at the ceiling with you. Oh, you don’t ever say too much.”

“And you don’t really read into my melancholia.” You moved off the main stage just like you had rehearsed and moved over to the center stage because that’s where Harrys table was by and obviously you wrote this song about him. “I’ve been under scrutiny.. You handle it beautifully. All this shit is new to me.”

Those were important lines to you because after being not being in the public eye for as long as Harry, they obviously tried to cancel you for everything little thing but Harry didn’t care, that wasn’t the Y/N he knew and loved.

"All they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride." You held up your ringed finger. "The only kinda girl they see is a one-night or a wife."

"I find it dizzying, they're bringing up my history. But you weren't even listening," The lights went purple and there was fog surrounding the stage. "I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me."

"Surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say." You looked around the room and saw everyone standing up dancing. "No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me." You loved that line. Everyone always expected you to stay home, give Harry babies, and make him a nice warm dinner to come home to every night. But that wasn't what you wanted, you wanted your own career. Obviously you wanted kids as well but that was for the further in the future and Harry absolutely understood where you were coming from.

"Talk your talk and go viral, I just need this love spiral." Harry smiled brightly and mouthed 'I love you' to you which made you blush like a teenage girl. "Get it off your chest.. Get it off my desk,"

"Talk your talk and go viral, I just need this love spiral. Get it off your chest," You spoke that line instead of singing it. "Get it off my desk!" You moved back to the main stage and everyone cheered loud. "Surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say. No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me."

"I just wanna stay in that lavender haze."

"Get if off your chest... Get it off my desk."

"That lavender haze, I just wanna stay." You moved back to where you originally started off at on the stage.

"I just wanna stay in that lavender haze." You bowed as you caught your breath then left the stage.

"That was so amazing, Y/N!!" You heard someone shout as you walked back to your dressing room.

"Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!" You called back and checked your phone to see all of your family members had texted you.

Mom

"Good job, honey!! You did amazing!"

Dad

"Can't believe my baby is all grown up, we love you Y/N"

Y/S/N

Attachment 1 video

"Good job, sissy. We were all cheering you on!"

Haz <3

"You did absolutely amazing, my love. I'll be in your dressing room in just a few xx"

He wasn't lying when he said that because a couple of minutes later, you heard a knock at the door. "Hey, do you mind getting that? I'm trying to get changed." You called out to your manager from the bathroom.

-

"And the Grammy for best pop vocal album goes to... Harry Styles, Harry's House!" JLO announced and Harry his his face behind his hands.

“Harry you did it!!” You stood up with him and hugged him tightly.

“Holy shit, Y/N.” He hugged you back and pulled away after a moment to hug everyone else.

Harry took the Grammy in his hands and took a deep breath. “Wow.. Thank you so much, this album from start to finish has been the greatest experience of my life, from writing it with my best friends and my wife, to playing it for you, it’s the greatest joy. I’d like to thank Rob, Jeffery, Tom, Tyler, Tommy, Tom, and Y/N. Thank you to everyone who inspired this album, thank you to all my family and friends. I wouldn’t be here without you, thank you.”

You cheered with Lizzo as loud as you both could and smiled when Harry made his way back down to you. “There’s my Grammy winning husband!!” You pressed a big sloppy kiss right over his dimple and wrapped his arms around his neck. “How’s it feel to know you have two whole Grammys now?”

“ ‘S amazing, sweetheart. I believe your category is coming up next.” He winked at you and your face turned red.

“Oh gosh please don’t remind me. I’m so nervous.” Your eyes grew wider as you both sat down.

-

“Here are the list of nominees for song of the year,

As It Was, Harry Styles.

Break My Soul, Beyoncé.

Just Like That, Bonnie Raitt.

About Damn Time, Lizzo.

Lavender Haze, Y/N Styles.”

“And the Grammy for song of the year goes to,” Jill opened the envelope and smiled. “Y/N Styles, Lavender Haze!!”

You stared at your champagne glass and you felt Harry gently shake you to get you to stand up. You looked up at him and let out a shaky laugh. “Oh my god.. Is this actually happening?” You asked him and he pulled you in for a hug.

“It’s actually happening, darling.” He pulled away. “Now go up there and get your award!”

You did as you were told and looked back at the screen to make sure it was actually your face up there. “Wow.. I didn’t have anything prepared because honestly I didn’t think I’d win. I mean I was up against Beyoncé and Lizzo, why on Earth would I win this?” You looked at the award in your very shaky hands. “Holy shit. Thank you so much to everyone who helped me with this song. Thank you to Harry for being my inspiration for this entire album, really. I wouldn’t be here without you, H. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You walked off the stage and went back to your table.

Trevor started talking again through the microphone and you stared at your hands in shock. “Oh my god, Harry. I just won a fucking Grammy.” You said, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

Harry pulled your chair closer to him and placed a kiss to your temple as you leaned into him. "Mum wants a picture of both of us with our awards, are you up for one right now?" He asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

You nodded and watched as he handed his phone to Lizzo then helped you stand up.

"Okay smile!" Lizzo said and you both held your Grammys up to the camera with a huge smile. "Perfect, I took like a thousand."

-

It was the last category of the night, Album Of The Year, and man were you nervous. It was such a tough category against many talented artists but you kept reassuring Harry that he was going to win. "When you win, we're gonna go celebrate like there's no tomorrow." You ran your fingers through his hair at the back of his neck.

"Okay everyone, we're on in 5 seconds!" You heard someone say through the speakers and you put your phone in your handbag.

Trevor stood on the stage and smiled brightly. "To wrap the evening up, we have DJ Khaled and John Legend performing for us tonight but before that, we have one final category, Album Of The Year! Lets take a look at the nominees."

"Harry's House, Harry Styles.

Voyage, ABBA.

30, Adele.

Un Verano Sin Ti, Bad Bunny.

RENAISSANCE, Beyoncé.

Good Morning Gorgeous (Deluxe), Mary J. Blige.

In These Silent Days, Brandi Carlile.

Music of the Spheres, Coldplay.

Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, Kendrick Lamar.

Special, Lizzo."

"And the Grammy goes to..." He smiled and opened the envelope. "Harry Styles!"

Everyone started cheering and you practically jumped out of your seat and hugged Jeff as tight as you could before pulling away after a moment and looking at Harry who had his face in his hands. "H! You did it, H!" You helped him stand up and then pressed a kiss to his lips.

He returned the kiss and then after hugging everyone, he made his way top onto the stage with you, Kid Harpoon, and Tyler. He took the award in his hands and smiled. "Shit! I mean-shit! Man.. Um, I’ve been so, so inspired by every artist in this category with me. At a lot of different times in my life I listen to everyone in this category when I’m alone, and I think on nights like tonight, its obviously so important for us to remember that there is no such this as best in music. Um-I don’t think any of us sit in the studio thinking, making decisions based on what is gonna get us one of these. This is really, really kind. I’m so, so grateful. I’m gonna pass it over to my collaborators who are- I’m just so uh, this doesn’t happen to people like me very often and this is so, so nice. Thank you very, very much." He handed the Grammy to Tyler and pulled you into a tight hug.

“I love you so much.” He wiped his tears on your dress and pulled back to admire your face.

"I love you so much more."

-

After you went home, showered, and got changed into comfier clothes, you and Harry headed over to Jeff’s house to hang out. Now you both were sitting on the couch with you in between Harrys legs with a wine glass in your hand.

“Okay but can we just talk about Y/N’s killer performance?” Jeff asked which made everyone look over to you.

“Oh gosh, my earpiece wasn't working at first and then they turned the lights purple and turned on the fog machine too soon and it was so embarrassing. They were supposed to wait until after I sang ‘I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me.’” You sighed and took a sip of your wine.

“Well you did amazing either way, my love. And you won your first ever Grammy!” He rested his hands on your stomach underneath your Forest Green Pleasing sweatshirt and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You put your wine glass on the coffee table and flipped over so your chest was pressed against Harrys and you closed your eyes.

Harry noticed this and ran his fingers through your hair. “You tired, peach?” He asked and you hummed in return. “Wanna go home?”

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and pressed a soft kiss there. “No no no, you’re having fun with your friends. Don’t let me ruin that.”

He nodded his head slowly. “Okay, well just let me know when you’re ready and we can go.”

-

You woke back up a couple hours later to all the lights off and the TV playing a movie. “Harry?” You looked up at him and placed a kiss to his cheek.

"Morning, sleepy head." He whispered and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

You hummed against his lips and smiled. "Where are Glenne and Jeff?"

"They went to bed, I was waiting for you to wake up but they said we can stay in their guest room tonight if we don't feel like going home, it's up to you, lovie."

"I'm fine with anything as long as I'm with you." You let out a yawn then nuzzled your face back into the crook of his neck.

Harry turned off the TV and slowly sat up which made you groan. "Before you go back to sleep, let's go get in bed and we can cuddle all you want."

Once you got up to the guest bedroom, you took off your sweatshirt and sweatpants so you were left in only your shirt then climbed into bed and snuggled up to Harry's now bare chest.

"Darling?" You heard Harry say after a few moments.

You looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for everything you do for me, I wouldn't be here without here." He ran his fingers up and down your back.

"You don't need to thank me, H. I love you," You grabbed his left hand and kissed his knuckles. "We're in this together, remember? ‘Till death do us part’ then even after that you’re still stuck with me. It’s just us, baby, it’s you and I against the world. We don’t need anyone else.”

“Let’s have a baby.” He blurted out and your eyes widened. “Shit- Uh, I mean, do you wanna have a baby? I’ll be on tour only until July and then we can stay in England and out of the public eye contact and-”

“Harry,” You interrupted him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Of course I wanna have a baby, do you think we’re ready?”

He nodded his head. “I do, we’ve never been happier and I think it’s the perfect time.”

“Then let’s have a baby, H. I’ll stop taking birth control tomorrow and then we can start trying.” You yawned. “But let’s go to sleep now, yeah? We can talk about it more in the morning?”

“I love you so much.” He pulled you closer to him and kissed all over your face and down your neck.

You giggled and laid your head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat to fall asleep. “I love you too.”

-

hi hi! here she is in all her glory! lmk if you want a pt 2. for when they start trying to have a baby, i think i have a couple ideas on how i wanna execute it! as always make sure you reblog to help my page grow, if you just like then that won’t do anything for me! have a good day/night i love you all,

xoxo bella 🤍

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #husband!harry #soft!harry #harry styles grammys #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles stuff #harry fic #harry x reader #harrys house

[darklydeliciousdesires]

London Will Burn - Chapter Two.

Told you I wouldn't leave you waiting for long, besties! Thank you so much for all your engagement, it makes me so happy to read your enjoyment of the story. Well, here we go, then. Sexy times below! ;)

Previous chapters - One

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,207

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

The Wallace homestead. A gigantic townhouse standing statuesque in the centre of Richmond Upon Thames, Kew to be precise. It was most definitely a money address, and Rin expected no less. It stood tall, strong and foreboding, much like the family who resided there.  

Thank goodness she was being taken within its walls as a welcome guest, she thought.  

If only she realised the truth. She’d have run as far as she could have gotten away from the duplicitous man who took her hand and led her up the steps, into the house and up two floors to his bedroom.  

“Wait here a moment,” he murmured, hands roaming her, lips pressing a kiss against her neck. “I need to tidy.”  

Grasping his suit jacket, she pulled him nearer, purring softly as her fingertips trailed over his short, neat beard. God, he hadn’t even kissed her lips yet and she was in erotic overload. “I don’t mind mess.”  

He straightened, hands clasping her face. “I do.” His mouth ghosted hers, rumbling a laugh when her tongue shot out to lick his cupid’s bow, reaching to smack her arse. “Patience.” He slid into his bedroom, closing the door with a soft click, the space immaculate as always. He detested anything being left out of place, but he needed a moment all the same.  

Taking his phone out, he put it on silent, walking around to the side of the bed and placing it behind the lamp, pressing down on the large piece of Blu-Tac he’d previously placed there, keeping the phone in place once he’d set it to video and began the recording.  

Only the camera lens remained poking out from behind the heavy silver lamp. She wouldn’t notice it if he kept that lamp off, switching the one on the adjacent bedside table on, illuminating the gloom of his bedroom. It was an uncharacteristically dull spring in London, thus not offering much in the way of bright daylight to brighten a room, and he wanted as much illumination as he could get. The video had to be clear.  

Returning to the door, he pulled it open, greeting her with the kind of look that could easily buckle a set of knees, Rin still feeling the tumult of excited energy zapping through her. ‘Oh god, I’m about to have sex with Sean, oh bloody hell is this really happening to me?’ she thought. It had been so fast paced, even for someone as upfront as her.  

When they both knew exactly what they wanted, why engage further in the lead up, though? Why waste time teasing it, when they could just enjoy instead?  

She knew enjoyment was exactly what she would receive as his mouth met hers at last, the kiss soft to begin with before the heat began to rise, his beard prickling her lips as their tongues rolled together. Her hands moved to unknot his tie as he shrugged his jacket off, the dance of undress as slow waltz to begin with, until hunger dictated a greater need, Rin undoing all of two buttons upon his shirt before simply tearing it open.  

His chest was gorgeous, wide and defined without being too chiselled, her hands touring the planes of his back as she pressed herself against him, moaning softly into his mouth. There was more finesse to the removal of her clothes, Sean savouring in the reveal. That didn’t mean the heat of need ceased to burn through him, though, the want within him spiralling. Just because his designs were not solely motivated by the need to fuck her did not mean he wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy the experience.  

“God,” he breathed, pulling from her mouth and standing back to look at her once his deft fingers had removed the black lace underwear. “Now there’s beauty.” 

She smiled, hands tugging down his trousers and boxers, Sean stepping from them and straightening once more as she grasped his cock, her eyes flitting down. “And there’s one hell of a thick cock. Wow. I bet it feels even better than it looks.” 

He pushed her back on the bed, smirking with satisfaction, beginning to peel down her long, black socks. “I’ve been assured many times that it does.” With her lying spread and bare before him, her folds already glistened with wetness, the urge to simply sink himself balls deep into her was a hard temptation to fight, bringing his thumb to her slit and mouth to her inner thigh. 

Hot kisses peppered her skin, Rin biting her lip with a little hum as she felt him spreading the petals of her sex, his thumb stroking through her wet, looking up to see the anticipation dancing in her eyes. All he had to do was move that thumb a fraction upwards and it’d be skimming her clit, but devilish as he was, he left her waiting on it.  

Keening against his touch, she could barely believe how wet he’d gotten her, just from his kisses while undressing her. The sting of arousal throbbed through her core, craving gratification, her need not sated any by his mouth drawing nearer, licking a hot swipe over the uppermost junction of her thigh. Squirming, she attempted to pull him closer, closing her thighs only to have him prise them back open with his elbows, turning his head to lay a bite against her thigh.  

A single word followed his sharply delivered scold. “Patience.” 

“I’ve never been very good at that.” 

Moving back up her body, his tongue licked a long line from her navel to her neck, staring down at her with a soft frown. “If you don’t show it, I’ll only make you wait longer.”  

Her lips tightened, grumbling in protest. “Tease.” 

“I am,” he confirmed, head dipping to suck her nipple. “I’m also worth the wait.”  

She didn’t doubt that for a second as he worked his way back over her skin with licks and kisses, amping her frustrations further by laying a kiss upon her pubic mound, tongue flickering, so very nearly catching her folds, his mouth then moving to her hip instead. Damn him.  

His hands toured the slender, strong muscles of her thighs, borne of years in the saddle. He could only quietly imagine with much eagerness just how well she’d ride him. His tease was merciless, almost bringing his thumb where she needed it most, a tiny touch against her bud before descending to push lightly against her streaming opening.  

He had her teetering on the edge of desperation just enough that when he finally did meet her folds with a long lick, the sound torn from her was almost primal. That first touch of wet heat gliding over her clit made her hips bounce, his hands holding her down, tongue dragging through her folds again and again until she virtually whimpered.  

He knew exactly what he was doing. Oh, to finally have a guy between her legs who had more than just a vague clue over how to please a woman. Sean Wallace, as she would swiftly learn, had a fucking encyclopaedia of knowledge relating to all things sexual. The bud of her clit swelled hot against his tongue, each lick rolling slowly, smiling against her as her cries filled the room.  

Yes. He knew well how good he was.  

Burying his tongue into the hot honey of her gaping little hole, he tongue fucked her with zeal, nose nudging her bud, experiencing a little pinch of lament that this would be the only time he’d ever get to have her. “Just fucking enjoy fucking her for all she’s worth and remember the goal.” he thought, hands smoothing over her skin, grasping her breasts while returning his tongue to her clit. 

As languid circles were replaced with fast flickers, Rin closed her eyes tight as the pleasure streaked up her spine, her head lost between the downy pillows, her fingernails trawling over his scalp. When he closed his full lips upon her and sucked, he sent her on a direct trajectory to the stars.  

“Enjoying yourself, darling?” 

She could see him grinning at her against the slick mess he’d licked her to, tongue once again rapid in motion. “Fucking hell, yes!” she cried, her groan almost strangulated at feeling two fingers slip in effortless glide into her heat. “You’re damned lucky I haven’t knotted my legs around your neck.” 

He grunted a chuckle, deep and raspy. “I wouldn’t mind, just as long as you don’t asphyxiate me. I cannot deny I’d die a happy man with a mouthful of your pretty little cunt, though.” 

She raised an eyebrow, sharply inhaling a breath when his fingertips pushed firmly into her g spot. “You need to dick me down thoroughly before I’ll let you expire.”  

He emerged from between her legs, kissing his way up her body until he reached her mouth. “Oh that’s an absolute given. Minus the expiration.” Kissing her slow and dirty, his fingers remained nudging deep inside her, a low groan echoing in his throat when he felt her grasp his cock. 

Her touch was much more proficient than he’d been expecting, screwing his eyes tightly shut and pulling from her mouth, burying his against the side of her neck. She left him bereft for a second, pausing to stroke her hand over the sodden mess of her sex, returning to slip a soft clutch over the head of his hardness.  

He twitched against her, abs shuddering, firming further to each squeeze as he began to pant hard into the curve of her shoulder. When after wetting her fingers with a lick, her other hand joined it to circle over the tip of his cock, it was all he could do not to flatten her to the bed and pound the life out of her.  

He would not lose control, though. 

Those delicate swirls, coupled with her other hand working in slow, firm pumping strokes on his shaft sent his shudders right to his thighs. Oh, she was good. Too good, fire licking the pit of his groin as he began to sway into the clasp of her hand. 

“Mmm, you want to be in me so badly right now, don’t you? Yeah, I bet it’s all you can think of, isn’t it, absolutely ruining me with your dick.” 

With those words burning through his brain, the tentative grasp upon the control he sought not to lose slipped from his grasp, his hand reaching to yank open the bedside table drawer and pull out a condom. 

“Oh, you’re going to get it now, little vixen,” he spoke, removing the thin tube of latex from its packet and beginning to roll it on. 

Rin grabbed her legs at the ankle, bringing them down to rest either side of her head. “I’m ready.” Her splayed position and wide, mirthful grin was met by an aroused growl, Sean leaning to circle a lick at her nipple while nudging her opening in tease. 

When he finally pushed forth and spread her around the thick of his cock, her exclamation was but a helpless little whimper, knocked sideways by the feel of her tingling walls being so widely parted. Oh, how she hoped this might become a regular thing. A cock that beautiful wouldn’t be forgotten in a hurry, especially since right from that first moment, he showed her just how well he could use what he had.  

Her mouth dropped open in exclamation, staring up at him as she panted heavily, little darts of pleasure skipping over her nerves as he fucked her steadily. His mouth closed over her other nipple, sucking as his tongue beat across it, her hands moving to trail over his thick arms.  

The way he fucked her... god. It went beyond simple in out, in out penetration. He hit her at every angle, every depth, shallowly breaching her one minute only to plunge fully into her the next. His body moved almost fluidly against hers, Rin running her hands up and down his arms as she met his downward movements with a little upward punt of her hips, pulling him to her, losing herself in a tangle of messy kisses as they panted against one another.   

“You look even more beautiful, you know, when you’re being fucked mindless,” he rumbled, his voice gone to gravel entirely as he bit her lower lip with a hungry groan. Clasping her jaw in his grasp, he hit her deeper with a few more sharply delivered thrusts, the need to quicken taking over for a few moments, her wails making his pulse flip wildly before he brought himself under control again. “God, you’re absolutely gorgeous.”   

He nuzzled her, kissing her again, Rin a little staggered by the praise he heaped upon her. Knowing Sean even only a little, she truly hadn’t thought him the type to be this complimentary. She wouldn’t class him as unfriendly at all, or even arrogant, but she’d always considered him maybe a little too wrapped up in himself to be so extolling of another.   

And then there was the passion in him, which he lavished upon her amply, kissing her, his lips travelling to her neck, his deep groans, the way he stroked her all over as that slow rhythm gave way to something with more voracity. God, the man was addictive.  

His thumb moved to her clit, skating back and forth over the slick little bud, her nails grazing his chest as she cried out. Pleasure so torrid she felt on the verge of tears; that was a definite sexual first for her, being fucked so magnificently, she felt like crying.  

Sitting back on his heels, he pulled her legs up over his shoulders, beginning to pound into her cunt furiously, chasing the tingles of release he could feel beginning to glimmer within him, the coil of his arousal thrashing like an angry serpent.  

Moving her legs, he reached for her, pulling her up with him, Rin feeling her bum cheek sting as he grasped them both in his big hands, spanking one hard. Bloody hell, it felt good, her body moving rhythmically against his as she ground herself down on every last inch of his fat cock. Her walls fluttered around him as the pressure increased, delicious friction scraping sparks right through her, burning to her very marrow and back.  

He coaxed further groans from her, repeatedly spanking her as his teeth nipped gently at her neck, Rin grasping his thick shoulders as she rode him with gusto, her body moving like a wave against his, taking a handful of her blonde waves and fisting it at the roots, pulling her head back, his tongue sliding in a slow drag up her throat until they were sharing kisses full of filthy indulgence once more. 

It was the kind of perfect sex she’d only ever fantasised before, never believing that any reality could ever live up to it, and certainly not with her pre to early teen crush.  

Staring at one another, it was intensity unmatched, Sean feeling himself pulled in by her sharply, so strongly that he had to keep reminding himself that he wouldn’t let his emotions be swayed by her. One time, it would only ever be this moment he would enjoy with the magmatic young woman atop him. 

He constantly reminded himself of that, but it was tricky, being at the mercy of such burning pleasure, given so effortlessly by the enchantment of her cunt, her kisses, her. She made him feel the first flourishes of a truly amazing sexual connection, but it could and would not be. For a few moments though, he let himself tumble, clutching her to him, groaning in utter abandon as he felt the pleasure surging up his spine.   

It suddenly felt much too intimate for him to handle, cursing his own predisposition to be emotive. Gripping her waist, he hauled her off his thighs, turning her over and re-entering the hot clasp of her cunt from behind. Rather than let his thoughts overtake him, he instead focused on the end goal, two hundred million from a man who had been foolish enough to think he would stand being crossed, and not be able to extract himself from it on his own merit.  

Looking over to where his phone was concealed, he smirked directly at the lens, grasping a handful of Rin’s hair and pulling her head back as he began to pound her mercilessly. He wanted Kevin’s stomach to turn, for fury to burn hot in the centre of his chest when he saw it, the video he would edit to shorter length and send to him along with his threat. Sean wanted him to feel nothing short of fucked over, watching the man who he’d attempt to fuck over, fucking his beloved daughter like a jackhammer.  

His efforts had hot pulses darting through her, Rin crying out through each ragged pant, those frantic thrusts plunging her into a release that had glimmers sizzling over ever nerve, leaving her unmoored and drowning in ecstasy as he came moments after her.  

Moving to the side of the bed, his chest still heaved heavily, pulling the condom off and knotting it, lying back with a satisfied huff as he reached to grasp her bum. “Well, that’s one way to spend an hour.”  

She turned onto her back, smiling sultrily. “I can think of a few more ways too, if you’re interested in extending that hour?” 

“Can’t,” he lamented, shaking his head as he stroked her knee. “I have a dinner meeting at six.”  

“Oh.” She looked disappointed, but made no effort to protest, or outstay her welcome. Getting up off the bed, she began to dress, Sean feeling something soothed inside that she appeared to take it for what it was. Well, what she thought it was. He pulled his boxers on, a pair of jeans and a sweater, throwing his shirt and trousers into the laundry basket in his ensuite bathroom. By the time he was done, she was standing by the door.  

Leaning to him, she kissed his lips, Sean encircling her in his arms, kissing her back with heat. “This was fun. I get it, though. One time thing, it’s alright.”  

He nodded. “Glad you understand. And yes, I certainly shan’t forget it in a hurry.”  

He didn’t either. Not after seeing her out, retrieving his phone and stopping the recording, or editing it to trim down to a smaller file with enough evidence on there to show her clearly. In fact, not even after his dinner engagement had finished at just coming up to nine that evening, either. Sex for Sean was a mere commodity, something he indulged in and paid little mind to afterwards, as simplistic in nature as one seeking a meal for sustenance.  

Women rarely remained in his thoughts for long. 

Rin had wedged herself so firmly into his consciousness that come 9:10pm that night, driving himself from the restaurant, he only successfully remained in his house for a grand total of ten minutes. His destination, after changing into black jeans and a simple, dark grey t shirt? Westminster.  

It was only ever meant to happen once... 

#sean wallace fanfiction #gangs of london fanfiction #sean wallace smut #sean wallace x ofc #gangs of london #joe cole #sean wallace fanfic #sean wallace fic #gangs of london fanfic #gangs of london fic

[mabelstone]

The Maid

matt stone x reader

summary: you're the maid of a multi-million dollar CEO who clearly has a fetish he's not trying hide.

word count: 1212

note: this fic will be 18+ <3

this chapter itself isn't, but part two will be.

i hope you enjoyed! i'm really excited for this one :)

Part One

You made your way to the gate of quite possibly the largest house you’d ever seen. You rang the buzzer and waited patiently, the gate swinging open soon after. As you walked up the long driveway, you watched a tall, suit clad man walk through the massive double doors of the mansion.

“Mr. Stone,” you approached the man with a warm smile. “I’m Y/N, I’m here for the cleaning job. Nice to meet you.”

“Matt, and likewise.” he corrected you with a smile, stepping out of the way and beckoning you in with single hand gesture.

“Wow, your house is beautiful,” you gawked, sure your eyes were mistaking you as you looked around the gorgeous open floor. Several floor-to-ceiling windows, dark hardwood floors, and the most incredible modern living room and kitchen. You didn’t know much about Matt, other than that he was the CEO of some successful architectural firm.

“Thank you, I designed it myself.” He chuckled at your reaction, no doubt he got the same from others often. “You’ll be getting very familiar with the place but let me show you around.”

He led you through each room on the first level, then up the large spiral staircase, revealing multiple other rooms. “Do you live alone?” You asked, partly because he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen, and partly because you couldn’t understand why anybody would need this entire place to them self.

“At the moment, yeah.” He replied blasé, not saying anything further on subject.

Once he’d given you a tour of the place, you noticed he skipped over one of the rooms, the only one with the door closed. “What’s in there?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about that room, you won’t need to go in there.” He probably realised how creepy he sounded, flashing a smile before adding, “it’s a spare office. Hardly ever used, so no need to clean it.”

You nodded with a breathy laugh, following Matt into one of the spare bedrooms across from his own. “Here’s your uniform.” He showed you to the neatly folded black clothes on the bed. “Each day, wear your normal clothes here and then change into your uniform. I'll have them washed for you.”

You’d had experience in maid work prior, but never once had you been given a uniform. You found it sort of strange but brushed it off. For the pay you’d be receiving working for him, you’d wear a plastic bag if that was his request. “Once you’re changed, meet me in the kitchen and we’ll get started.”

With a smile, he closed the door behind him, and you listened to his footsteps recede. You unfolded the uniform, your breath hitching slightly. It was one of those old-timey maid uniforms that was quite short with a pair of thigh high stockings. It looked like it had come straight from the closet of a porno. You began undressing, wanting to be fast to make him happy so he’d keep you around. You slipped off your blouse and pants before putting on the uniform. It surprisingly fit perfectly. You walked to the mirror in the corner of the room and your jaw dropped. The uniform cinched your waist and pressed your breasts up nicely, the lower half hugging your thighs in a way far too provocative for work. You kept reminding yourself why you were here, shaking your head before folding your old clothes and placing them back on the bed. With a deep breath, you grabbed your supplies and left the bedroom.

Your heels clacked against the wooden stairs as you made your way toward Matt. He looked up at you with a smirk, a breathy, “that fits good,” falling from his lips.

You blushed murmuring a shy, “yeah, it does.”

“Alright, I’ve gotta head to the firm, but you can get started down here.” He walked you through some spots that needed attention and showed you to his vacuum and steamer. You know, the boring maid stuff you were used to. “Also, I’m having a party tonight, so if you can do a quick job, I’ll let you off early.”

“Of course, Matt.” You smiled, making a start in the kitchen. He answered a phone call as you began wiping down the long, stone island in the middle. He sounded frustrated, huffing, and using harsh words, yet his tone was even. You felt his eyes burning through you as you bent over the island, struggling to reach. Your uniform was so short that the bottom of your ass cheeks were peeking out. You looked up at him, blushing, his eyes never once leaving your figure. You felt an odd surge of confidence knowing he liked what he saw. He’d only be in his early thirties, yet there was something about him that made him seem so dominant. Like an older, well respected man. He frustratedly hung up the phone, grumbling, “I’ll be there soon,” eyes still glued to you.

You bent over further, standing on the tips of your toes so you could ‘reach the edge,’ causing your dress to hike up higher, knowing damn well you could just walk around. Through rosy cheeks, you looked over your shoulder and sweetly stated, “you must be so stressed.”

“It’s all part of the territory, I guess,” he replied, rubbing a hand over his face. You stood up properly, walking over to your supplies to grab the table polish, the clack of your heels echoing in the large house. “I’d love to watch you work your magic, but apparently these morons can’t function without me. I shouldn’t be gone too long. Help yourself to anything, by the way.” And with a final glance up and down at you, he left.

Once you'd finished downstairs, you made your way to the upper level, working your very hardest to have the place sparkling. His furniture was made of the finest leather, his bedroom gorgeous with a luxurious ensuite consisting of twin sinks, a double headed shower, and a ginormous spa bath. He had a tall king bed and a TV so massive, you could probably see what he was watching from down the street. And your personal favourite part, his private balcony overlooked the gorgeous, green landscape; a cutesy table and chairs in the corner.

Surprisingly, his house was already quite clean, so the job was finished relatively fast considering the square footage. Which is why you couldn't understand why he would hire a maid in the first place, it didn't make any sense. Maybe simply because he could afford a maid? You weren't sure, but you weren't complaining either. Easiest $500 of your entire career.

Out of curiosity, you wanted to see what was in his 'spare office.' You had a suspicion that the room was not an office, but rather something he was trying to hide. Why would that be the only door shut?

You turned the handle, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. You walked in unsurprised. Maybe he was telling the truth? Before you left the room, you noticed the room lead into another smaller room, almost like a walk in wardrobe. What you saw made your jaw drop.

"No fucking way," you whispered in disbelief.

Half freaked out, half really turned on.

#matt stone #matt stone x reader #south park #trey parker #trey parker x reader #baseketball #doug remer x reader #doug remer #joe cooper x reader #orgazmo #maid!au #matt stone smut #matt and trey #joe cooper

[heyidkyay]

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name

Part Seven

A/n: Might've cried a lil writing this part:/ But I hope you enjoy it all the same x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Talks of a struggling relationship with a parent, (doesn't go into detail but alludes slightly to other things, so take that as you will), and the mention of previous deaths of relatives (again, there's not much detail)

Masterlist

--

“Mum?” I croaked out.

…

The woman in which had birthed me and given me my name was stood in the very same cafe, ignorant to my presence. 

There was no denying it was her. Her hair was still the same shade it’d always been, only now it was cut into a sleek sort of bob that better suited her face. She was thinner now too, I supposed. Her figure only accentuated by the fitted silk shirt she had tucked into a pair of dark jeans.

I scanned over every detail she had to offer me, or rather the world, but came to an abrupt pause when I saw a sudden similarity between us. It was a simple one really, but I saw then it in the way she was laughing away heartily at whoever she was on the phone to, her smile so wide and unapologetic. It was very same smile I'd caught myself wearing in pictures with friends, or when I rewatched old videos of us at gigs.

The realisation made my stomach turn, as though everything inside of me was slowly being vacuumed up into the big black hole that had suddenly replaced it.

I was snapped back to reality rather quickly when George’s head whipped around to see what I was freaking out over. His wide eyes darting between both myself and the woman who was stood waiting in line for her order, his jaw dropped. He looked just as unsure on what to do here as I was.

Because, well, what were you supposed to do when the parent you hadn’t seen since leaving home was stood right in front of you? It was a headfuck, a complete and utter headfuck. That had me ripping at the very seams.

George must’ve seen it on my face too because he reached across the table then to take my trembling hand in his, forcing me to divert my attention. My eyes found his. 

“Birdie…”

His low whisper paired with that godforsaken nickname wasn’t even enough to distract me from the way I was beginning to spiral. Suddenly, I felt so out of it. As though I was floating out of my body, or on another plane all together. 

I took a deep breath then shook my head at him, hoping to somehow clear my mind. 

“I know, it’s fine- I’m fine. I’m okay. Really.” But I didn’t know who I was trying to reassure here, him or me. “She just, brings something out in me. I didn’t expect to see her here is all.”

“No shit,” George mumbled distractedly with another long glance over his right shoulder. When he looked back at me, he hunched further across the table to keep his voice low. "You gonna say something?"

I blinked, but the thing that shocked me wasn't his question, it was the real anger I saw then in his eyes. It wasn’t a typical emotion for George.

“Sorry.” I apologised for the interruption, then attempted to steer us back on track. This wasn’t about her. This was me trying to fix things with George. Us trying to salvage the friendship we’d had long before we’d ever messed things up between us by getting together. “Where were we again?”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Not with me.” George interrupted, his grip on my hand tightening by a fraction. “You don’t have to pretend. I know what it was like. What you went through with her, how bad things got. I was there. You don’t have to build back up all those walls you tried so hard to knock down around me.”

I felt my eyelids fall shut when that familiar burning sensation begun to tingle the tip of my nose and started to sting just behind my eyes. My throat was slowly closing and the hairs that ran down my arms stood on end.

It was hard to hear, especially when I’d worked so hard to come to terms with the distance that our breakup had wedged between us. But ultimately, that was only because I knew he was right. He knew better than anyone what I’d gone through. Seen more than I’d care to admit I’d wanted him to.

“I just can’t do this. I-" I choked out, the tremble in my hands seemed to invade the rest of my body now. Everything appeared to be working against me.

George was still there though when I reopened my eyes, and I had a vague guess as to how red and watery they must’ve looked as I stared back at him hopelessly.

“Take a second, yeah?” He murmured to me, his thumb gently skimming over the back of the hand he still had yet to let go of. 

The action seemed to soften things somehow, gave me a feeling to ground myself to. I swallowed down the tension I'd felt balling in the back of my throat, letting it sit heavily now in my chest.

I couldn’t bring myself to look back at her though, at the hazy stranger I just about recognised.

Not yet.

“When was the last time you spoke to her?” George questioned me quietly and I couldn't silence the humourless chuckle I let go of, playing with the fraying tear in the booth’s tablecloth that someone must have caught their zip on. 

“Other than that birthday card? My nana’s funeral.”

George’s brow pinched further. “That was almost a year ago now though. I remember it. You two hardly said more than six words to one another.”

I shrugged, feeling small. “Well…”

With a sigh that was more of a scoff, George shook his head and worked his jaw. “Who’d you spend Christmas with then?”

I mustered up a sad smile. “Matty’s family took me in. With both my grandparents gone now, and well, us being…”

George dipped his chin curtly, eyes darting away for the briefest of seconds just as the vein in his neck ticked. I tried not to react to it.

“I didn’t have many people offering to put me up.” I told him honestly as I glanced towards the counter, shrugging a shoulder again. The rip in the tablecloth had grown now too.

“I-” George begun but faltered as he inhaled, sucking in far too sharply for it to go unnoticed. But then he shook his head as though irritated and his brown eyes found mine again shortly after. “Do you want to say something now? To her, I mean.”

I felt myself frown as I thought it over. Did I? It was a chance to face her again, to talk things over, maybe get some answers now that I was older and not so sheltered. But, then again…

My gaze flickered up to see her still stood there waiting. She was by the counter this time, leaning in and flashing a smile at the worker whilst she accepted the drink she’d ordered. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

George seemed to have followed my line of sight too and he turned back towards me a bit too quickly to get my reply. “Well? This is your last chance.”

And I watched on as she called out her hasty thanks, still prattling away on the phone whilst she started to make her leave. The only thought that crossed my mind though was whether or not it was the same number I’d tried calling her on a few weeks prior. Or in the months before that. I opened my mouth to say something, but I just couldn’t do it. Unsure if I even wanted to.

She was gone then. A whirl of hair and sweet laughter as the wind swept her back up, closing the door firmly shut behind her.

It felt like a strange metaphor for my life.

I slumped.

The cafe seemed to grow nosier after that and I wondered when everything had started to dial back for me. George was still there though, studying me closely like he always used to do. Only, it was for an entirely different reason this time around.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” He said, looking at me almost like he could sense every thought I was thinking, every feeling I felt. I dropped my eyes so that I could paste on a semi-convincing smile.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You can let it out, you know. If you need.” George mentioned, and he chewed on the edge of his bottom lip for a blink before shrugging lightly, on anyone else the gesture might’ve appeared abashed but whilst George was many things, he was far from that. Not with me at least. “Dunno. Just used to help.”

And it had. Whenever things would happen, when a memory would resurface, or I'd just be having one of those days… I’d close up and hide away from everything. It was only whenever George prompted it out of me, or decided to my mind off of things, did I see the bigger picture again.

In the time we’d been apart, those days had grown a little more frequent. Longer too. Because I hadn’t had that around to distance me from the thoughts. There was no light to keep the shadows at bay.

“I don’t know. It’s just weird, ain’t it?” I swallowed thickly and had to force my gaze outside, focusing on all the chips in the pavement and the birds that were now scouting around the decking. “Of all the people. All the places! And when I’m here with you too, trying to muddle through all our shit. Just feels like someone’s gone a dropped a massive bomb on my life.”

I waited a while for George to say something, to maybe pull his hand away or draw me in closer. But he just gave me that moment. And I didn’t know whether to be grateful or not for it, especially when it only seemed to spur me on.

“She was supposed to be all these things. A role model. Someone I could turn to. Look up to. A person I could always count on to be on my side. But she was barely ever there. Not when it counted.”

I could feel every hurt I'd ever felt in the breath I took then.

“She was meant to protect me. Keep me safe. But after dad- she just let anyone walk in and out of our lives. She was just a doorstop to them, a warm bed, and I had to face the brunt of it all. The leers and the looks.”

I scoffed, blinking away all the emotions of that sad little girl.

“You’d have thought that after his death, she’d might've wanted to keep me close. Make sure nothing bad happened to me too. But she just shut me out. Sent me away- to my nana’s, and my aunt’s.” 

My next whisper was sharp and it stung, it tainted the air around me. 

“She couldn’t even bare to look at me, G.”

George was there. Sliding into the booth beside me. He wrapped an arm around my waist and shielded me in his side, blocking anyone else who might have looked over then from watching me fall apart. I focused on my breathing, in and out. Out then in. The fog seemed to lift slightly as I continued, and George must’ve sensed it because he let up a little.

“Sorry," I sniffed, "If I’d've known that today would end up like this I would’ve spared you the lost time.” I made a chuckling sound that was mostly belittling and rolled my eyes at myself.

“Oi, don’t say that. She’s the one who fucked up. She’s the only one who should be apologising. Alright?”

I nodded slightly, because I couldn't not, and took the tissues he handed me, ruffling them between my fingertips. 

“It just hurts, I 'spose. ‘Cause somewhere deep down inside, I’ve always sort of felt like I was disposable.” 

That confession felt like too much even in the moment and so I turned away from him, sniffing as I blinked back the welling tears again. Only, one slipped free, but I was quick to swipe it away, chuckling sadly at myself.

“God, bet you regret asking me out now.”

George was sure in the shake of his head. Face solemn. “Never. Just thankful to be here.”

I snorted softly in turn, not believing him for a second. 

“It’s the truth.” He shrugged, gifting me one of his small lopsided smiles.

I used the tissues then to wipe at my nose and caught him staring as I did. I tried to smile back. “Alright if I go clean myself up? Feel like I’ve been hit by a lorry or summat.”

George and I shared a small chuckle between us and he nodded as he stood from his seat, allowing me to slide past.

“I’ll just be a minute.” I assured him, but it was useless as he only rolled his eyes at me. Waving me off.

—

By the time I’d sorted myself out and fixed my makeup as best as I could, George was nowhere to be found.

My heart lurched as I walked back over to where we'd just been seated, eyes scanning the length of the shop whilst a million stupid thoughts ran through my head at a million miles an hour, only to be silenced by the very sight of him waiting outside for me by the curb. Obviously having gone out for a cigarette whilst he waited.

I calmed my racing heart. He hadn’t just upped and left. 

As I made my exit and thanked the gent who held the door open for me, its bell jingled, grabbing George’s attention from where he’d been toeing the outline of a drain. His lips curved up into a smile as I made my way over.

“Alright?” He nodded and I copied the action, releasing some of that remaining tension I’d just been working on shredding off in the girls loo’s.

“Can I?” I requested, titling my chin over towards the fag he held. His eyes dropped down to it too and he took a small drag before willingly giving it up. I hummed my appreciation, inhaling deeply.

“Feeling any better?” He quizzed, squinted stare unmoving from me as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Air helps.” I replied, then tried for a joke, wanting to lighten the weighted atmosphere I’d created. “But hey, they say bad things come in three’s, so I won’t be too surprised if I end up under a bus on the walk home.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” George grimaced, and shook his head as he looked away from me, seemingly paler at the very thought. I glanced away too, feeling a bit stupid. 

A long silence fell between us then and I used it to finish off the cigarette he’d lit. Already itching for another. But I wouldn’t. At least not yet. Not until I’d made it home and started running a bath. Waiting for that second where I could just hide away from the rest of the world again. An avoidance method I often frequented, which was appearing more and more enticing after everything that had happened over the last two days.

Still, I couldn’t leave things like this with George. I didn’t want to, try as I might. He’d been such a big part of my life growing up and today showed me that that fact hadn’t changed, even though our relationship had. 

Whatever had happened between us in the lead up to our breakup, and the period after it, could be sorted out if we tried hard enough. I didn’t want to lose him, I couldn’t. And if things panned out the way I hoped for them too, then I’d have to get used to dealing with a lot more than just patching things up between us, like him eventually falling in love with somebody else.

Just the idea of it had me rolling, nausea creeping its way up my spine making my head spin.

I moved to stub out the butt on a nearby brick wall, tossing it into the plant box sat outside the cafe. George had calmed somewhat and was gazing over, watching me as I walked back towards him.

I rubbed at the tip of my nose, eyes lingering on my feet a moment too long. He cleared his throat.

“I um, Ross and I were gonna meet up down the local in a bit for a drink, if you wanted to join.” He mentioned, scratching the back of his head. “Only if you fancy it though. Figure we could just put this on pause for a bit. Let you get your head sorted first.”

I blinked, a little surprised. By the offer or his sincerity, I wasn’t quite sure. But I found myself nodding slowly anyhow, shocking myself even further. The hot, relaxing bath I’d been dreaming about vanishing in a blink.

“Uh yeah, yeah that sounds nice, I think.” I replied, caught off guard. But I inhaled and got over myself enough to give him a sly smile. “Did MacDonald plan it this way, believing that our meet would end in shit?”

George snorted at the insinuation, smirking over at me from where he stood rocking back and forth on the paved path. “Maybe, but when’s he ever been this prepared for anything?”

I gave a light laugh, unable to help myself. Because wasn't that the truth.

“So we’re encouraging this sort of behaviour now?”

“Why not? He’s growing up.” George grinned and I felt my feet moving before my brain could catch up.

“Alright then. Lead the way, Daniels.”

Part eight>

#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel the 1975 #george 1975 #the 1975 band #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #matty #matty healy #matty 1975 #Adam hann #ross macdonald #carly holt #george daniel x you #1975 band #1975 #fic #series #x you #x reader #ao3 #y/n #multi part fic #angst #fluff #humour #drinking #breakups #remeeting #birthday

[mangoshorthand]

Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch2 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

You and Five discuss the disastrous visit and the upcoming wedding.

Fluff, smut and fingers up Five's - (sorry not sorry).

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter Two: Custody Battles

“There’s nothing to say you have to invite them.”

“They’re my parents.”

You’re sitting together, blanket-covered legs dangling off the side of the fire-escape. He puts his arm around you and surveys you with sympathy.

“I get it. Family is a huge-ass ball of obligation. Nobody knows that better than me.”

“Hey!” you say, offended.

“Not my chosen family,” He kisses your forehead.

You sigh.

“They’re not even that bad. They’re just…not good.”

“That they ain’t. The Mother-of-the-bride trying to hump the groom isn’t a great look.”

You give a humourless laugh, "Don't worry. There will be other men at the wedding. You'll have safety in numbers. She'll probably try to pick off one of the smaller, weaker ones."

He laughs at this.

“There I was thinking it was my raw sexual energy.”

“Can’t we just elope instead?” you continue, a whine entering your voice.

Now Five sighs.

“We could. But I think I’d be a little sorry. I want to marry you most of all but I’ll admit that I’ve been picturing the big white dress and the reading room and whatnot.”

When organizing your wedding, Five had been both predictable and unpredictable. When he talked about Luther and Sloane’s wedding, you got the impression he’d hated the sentimentality: you’d expected to have to persuade him into anything grander than a trip to the courthouse. To your surprise, however, this couldn’t be further from the truth. You’d actually had to talk him down.

He approached wedding planning as if he were Bonaparte approaching Waterloo: the bedroom dry erase was currently devoted to seating plans and guest lists, budgets and contractors. When venue shopping, he’d taken you on an exhaustive tour of the city. After dragging Aoife around a thirteenth extravagant venue, you’d pulled him into an outwardly unassuming hotel and bar to get a damn coffee and discovered a beautiful reading room with floor to ceiling bookcases, rolling ladders and Palladian pillars holding up a gallery. With one exchanged look, you’d decided right then and there.

Now, on the fire escape, he pulls you closer to him.

“I could just kill your Mom, if it helps? I could make it painless...or not.”

You laugh again, “Hey, it would be free entertainment. Save money on contractors.”

He holds out a hand in front of you both.

“Picture this: in a month from now, you and I will be sipping champagne on a balcony in Marseille, looking out over the vineyards and lavender fields after a day in the spa. The wedding will be over and you’ll be my wife.”

“Hmm. Sounds nice...but I thought you hated lavender?"

“Only when it’s artificial: in detergents and…perfumes. Fresh lavender growing under the Mediterranean sun? That’s a whole different ballpark.”

You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth for a while.

“Have you picked your best man yet?”

He makes a non-committal noise. He’s been pretending to be indifferent about this but you know he’s hiding slight anxiousness.

“You don’t have to have a best man. Diego and Lila didn’t bother with bridesmaids or groomsmen.”

His feet swing a little over the side of the fire escape.

“It's hard to choose. I was closest to Viktor when we were kids but he was Luther's best man and it seems...unfair somehow. I don't want the others to feel... I’d naturally go for Klaus but Klaus can’t officiate and be best man, Diego would be the worst best man and Luther would probably cry all through his speech.”

"You definitely can't have Klaus. I want him with me while I'm getting ready."

"He's my brother!"

"But he says I'm more fun!"

He laughs and pulls you tighter to him. 

"This is a bad start. How are we going to decide who gets custody of him in the divorce?"

“You get Aoife if I get Klaus. At least it’s fun when he keeps you up all night.”

You both laugh at this, finishing with your heads leaned against each other. When your laughter subsides, you look into his eyes. A familiar look creeps into them.

“You’re going to be my wife.”

The sentence is innocent, but the way he says it is anything but. One of his hands comes to grip your chin, squeezing just a bit,

“My. Wife.”

He leans in, keeping imperious eyes on yours. You try to close the gap between you and kiss him, but he pulls back, smirking and eyes flashing. Clearly, he provoked the reaction he wanted. His thumb traces the curve of your lower lip, sending tingles in its wake. Unconsciously, you part your lips and his thumb invades your mouth. He pins your tongue down, stroking his thumb in as far as it will go. His smile broadens perceptibly at your willingness to accept him, at your eyes fixed on his, ready to take whatever he chooses to give you. As he slides his thumb out, you purse your lips slightly. His eyes leave yours and dart to your mouth, watching his thumb protrude, dragging plumped lips in its wake.

With his thumb still hooked around your mouth, he pulls gently, watching your lower lip pout downwards. He uses this grip to pull you to him and kiss you. The kiss isn’t tender. His tongue works like his thumb. You know better than to kiss him back just now. He’s enjoying your passivity. His other hand abruptly grips your left breast through your blouse and squeezes hard, digging his fingers into the sensitive flesh. You gasp in surprise, and now he kisses you more fully, like a starving man. You allow yourself to kiss back, to run your tongue against his. As you kiss like this, his hand creeps to your blouse buttons.

Luther’s heading home after a pleasant evening spent with his niece and nephew. It’s a fine early summer evening so he enjoys his walk to the subway. The setting sun casts a sweet light over everything. As he passes the alley, a movement there catches his eye. There’s Five, legs dangling over the fire escape and kissing his fiancée.

It warms his heart. They’d come so far. The brother he thought he’d lost forever, his brother who’d saved them all again and again. In a few weeks, he’s going to marry the woman he loves- the woman who’d revealed and unlocked facets of Five’s heart that were unsuspected even by his siblings. He sighs a little and smiles. The world can be a cruel place, but Luther knows, deep down, that there’s justice; some divine energy that restores balance.

As his eyes grow misty, the sunlight falls just right and he notices that Five’s hand is down her blouse, underneath her clearly exposed bra.

As Five’s none-too-gentle fingers skim your areola, you hear an indignant shout that causes you to break apart.

“Christ, you’re an animal, Five!”

You both look down to see Luther stomping past the alley’s entrance, gesticulating angrily.

“What was that about?” you ask Five.

“No idea. But I want you inside.”

You both extricate yourselves from the fire escape. Five clambers back through the window and turns to assist you. When you have your legs in the room, he lifts you into his arms and carries you bodily over to the bed, where he drops you.

“Strip.”

He stands over you, looking down and biting his lip as you obey. His eyes rove each new area of flesh as they're exposed, stripping off his own clothes too.

When you’re both naked, he comes to stand by the edge of the bed.

“Get me fully hard.”

You immediately get to it, taking his cock gently in both of your hands, stroking down each side of his shaft. You look up at him, holding his eyes. This, you know, will get him harder quicker than anything; he loves the feeling of your eyes upon him while you service him. He lets out a single ‘huh’ of laughter. He knows what you’re doing.

He closes his eyes and tips his head back, blocking out the sight.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to work harder than that.”

Well…if that’s what he wants. If he doesn’t want to see anything, then you’ll have to give him something to hear as well as feel.

You stroke the velvet head of his dick with your thumbs. You let out a small “hm” as if in surprised pleasure. His dick responds, so you lean forward and tickle the swelling glans with the tip of your tongue, moving it loudly and wetly.

“Mmpph”

You laugh softly. 

“This is too easy.”

His eyes fly open. You see the flash of triumph there. You’ve given him the excuse he was looking for. A blink and then his weight bearing down upon you, body pinning yours.

“I beg your pardon?” his whisper is faux-dangerous.

“I said you’re too easy.”

He actually growls as one of his hands flies again to your chin, fingers massaging your neck with just enough pressure to be deliciously threatening.

“I should slap the shit out of you for that.”

“But you wouldn’t dare.”

You’ve called his bluff and he knows it: face-slapping has always been off the table between you. Unwilling to be seen to back down, the hand on your neck comes to your face. He pats your cheek slightly harder than gently. It makes a tiny thwack.

“I guess I’ll just have to fuck you until that little pussy can’t take it anymore.”

You snort.

“Like you could last that long.”

He likes this particular game. Giving it back to him until the moment you finally submit fully. He likes to feel that he’s beat you- likes overcoming a worthy adversary.

The hand on your face slides down your body and between your legs. He laughs slowly at what he finds there.

“When you’re already this wet? Sure.”

“Lick me.” you try to command, but it ends up being a plea.

His laughter becomes derisive, “No.”

He lowers himself so his mouth is against your ear. When he speaks again, it’s the growling tone.

“Tonight, I don’t give a shit if you come. I’m going to use you like the come-dumpster you are. You’ll get my dick hard as many times as I want and I will come in any hole I want. Got it?”

“Mmm." Heat floods you from the vulva outwards. If he keeps talking like this, he won’t need to worry about you coming.

His hips shift and he places himself at your entrance. You open your legs obediently to accept him. He snaps his hips forward viciously, entering you wholly on the first stroke. He gives a laughing gasp at your surprise, starting to fuck you with a firm, deliberate rhythm.

“By the time I’m done with you, there’ll be come dribbling out of every- fucking- hole,” he thrusts his hips to punctuate the final three words. “If not for that vasectomy, I’d absolutely be putting another baby in you.”

You begin to laugh at his mixture of filth and practicality, but it turns abruptly into a moan as the head of his cock massages your deepest sweet spot.

He groans at the feeling, “You’re going to feel my come running out of you for a fucking week.”

He’s turning himself on with his dirty talk. You begin to rock your hips up towards his, making him speed up.

“You dirty-fucking-come rag.”

Again, his hips slam into you with every word. When he’s not speaking, his mouth works furiously at your neck and ear lobe.

It’s good. You feel your pleasure building as he goes to town on your pussy. You can tell that, for him, this is purely about his pleasure- it wasn’t just talk. The idea of him using you like his fleshlight is enough to get you there…or nearly there.

You feel his dick twitching inside you as he comes with more growls. He rides it out furiously before rolling off you, slightly out of breath. He inspects between your legs, scooping a trail of dribbling come with two fingers and inserting them into your pussy, pushing it back inside.

“Gotta put this back where it belongs.”

He removes his fingers slowly, keeping eye contact as he withdraws. He watches your reaction with a small, gloating smile on his face. He knows you want him to finger you, so he draws out the moment of removing them as long as possible. When his come-covered fingertips finally withdraw, he lifts them to your mouth.

“Eat that, and then tease my cock with your mouth until I’m hard again. I think I’m just gonna lay here while you service my dick.”

“Mm. Yes Sir.”

You suck his fingers deeply, not breaking eye contact. When they're clean to his satisfaction, you get on your knees beside him, cheek against his stomach with head between his legs.  He strokes your ass as you press a trail of feather-light kisses to his thighs, avoiding his soft and sticky cock until it’s hard enough not to be overly sensitive.

Breathing in his pleasant smell, you take one of his balls into your mouth and suckle on it oh-so-gently.

He tenses, always instinctively wary here, but gradually relaxes as he lets pleasure overtake his natural reluctance to have this vulnerable part of him between teeth.

“Mmm... that’s right. You suck on my balls. You know where you belong.”

When you look up again after minutes of licking and sucking them, his dick is semi-hard, persuaded back to life by your gentle ministrations. You lick up its length, provoking a hum of pleasure from Five. When you’ve worked him to full hardness, you take the head into your mouth and envelop in his inches one by one. You contract your lips so as to roll his foreskin down too, exposing more sensitive flesh directly to the warm wetness of your mouth. As you start to bob up and down on him, one of your hands cups his still-wet balls gently, stroking lower occasionally, massaging the base of his dick at his perineum.

When your middle finger strokes his asshole with a gentle tickling motion, his hips twitch upwards. You snigger around his dick.

“I know what you’re doing.”

You withdraw from his dick, spitting generously on your finger and returning it to his hole, just circling the clenched muscle.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, tickling him again, asking for admittance.

“It won’t work,” he says, sternly.

But you think it probably will. With your finger up his ass, Five turns into as submissive a slut as he’s ever accused you of being. It’s his one weak spot.

“You too chicken?” you mock, finger still teasing his asshole. You return your tongue to his dick, matching the movement of your saliva-lubed finger with the tip of your tongue on his cockhead.

Five sighs out a moan with the edge of a growl.

“Fine: lube me up. We’ll see who comes out on top. I guess it’s about time you gave your man a prostate massage.”

“Sure,” you say, a knowing smile on your face as you reach for the lube in the bedside cabinet, "that makes it sound a whole lot more macho than getting finger fucked like a little bitch." 

In retribution, he grabs your throat, forcing your chin back and fixing you with an imperious look. It quite clearly asks: Are you going to behave?

You smirk in response; you certainly don't intend to behave.

Nevertheless, when he lets you go, he allows you to rub the lube all over him and slip your index finger into him slowly. He’s tight, walls gripping your finger, so you go gently. You're now knelt facing him between his legs, eyes locked on his and waiting for the reaction you know must come; the moment where he gives up being in charge and bottoms for you like a pro.

The deeper you get, the more slack his jaw goes. There’s a strangled moan from under his breath as you reach the deepest your finger will go.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, eyebrows raised in almost-pained bliss.

You raise one of yours at him:

"You look so cute when you're desperate."

He is desperate but stubbornness alone carries him through. Your finger still inside him, he grabs your hair in his fist and pulls your head towards his crotch again. You take his full-standing dick back into your mouth.

“What are you waiting for? Suck me. I’m going to fuck that face while you pleasure my asshole like the. Good. Fucking. Future. Wife. You. A-Are.”

Again, he thrusts to emphasize every word, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You bring your free hand to the outside of his thigh, ready to tap out if you need to breathe.

You slide your finger in and out of him. He’s already contracting around you as you suck his dick in tandem; his asshole yielding beautifully. He lets you control the rhythm but thrusts his hips up and pushes your head down to get as deep as possible. You up your game on his ass- finding his prostate and firmly rolling the pad of your finger around it. This produces a tiny spike of needy, high-pitched vocalization amidst his otherwise deep moans; surely a step in the right direction.

Five feels his brain wanting to turn off, wanting to submit; throw his legs over his head and beg you to finger him harder. But he can’t let you win; he doesn’t think he could stand your shit eating expression afterwards. Instead, he thrusts his dick in and out of your mouth mercilessly. When you gag and tap his thigh, he notes it with satisfaction.

In the few seconds of break while you catch your breath, he looks up at you, tilting his head insolently.

“You call that a prostate massage? Kinda pathetic. I’d have thought a nasty little skank like you could do better.”

You meet his eyes, yours still streaming after the head of his cock tried to push its way down your throat. He raises an eyebrow at you:

Ready to take what’s coming to you?

You’re ready and willing, happy to be his nasty little skank. You feel your own wetness flowing out from between your labia and running stickily down your thighs.

You bend your head, open your mouth and take his dick again, switching your index to your middle finger in his ass. You find his prostate again and really pummel it this time, stroking it firmly up and down with the in-out movement of your finger. He grunts and speeds his pelvic thrusts into your mouth, going hard. You can tell this is him trying to come, but the second orgasm is harder to wrest from him. When he gets there, he grunts, growls and whines his way through.

By the end, he managed to come four times. The last time, (in your ass), his shouts were pained, almost as if he were being electrocuted.

“NYAH…shit. AAAHHHH”

He had slumped forward, having truly exhausted himself. Now he lies back on the bed, massaging his lower stomach.

“Shit- did I wake the baby?”

You both fall quiet, listening. Aoife sleeps in one of the attic storage rooms, cleaned of junk and renovated into a nursery. There are no sounds of stirring from the baby monitor so he pulls you to him, breathing as if he’s just run a race. He goes into aftercare mode: nuzzling your neck, kissing you and whispering loving affirmations.

“All ok? Not too intense?"

"No. You know I like it."

"I love you, I hope you know that. Did I go too far on the name-calling?"

"That was about my limit, but it was okay. I love you too."

Seemingly with effort, he stops sleepily nuzzling you and prepares to stand, "You need a washcloth?”

“Yeah, I could do with one.”

He heaves himself to his feet and shrugs on his robe, but when he tries to blink to the bathroom, the power fizzles weakly in his fists.

“Awwh. You all tuckered out?” you ask, mocking him gently.

“It’s fair to say I’m out of juice, yes.”

You smirk. “But my pussy could absolutely take more fucking.”

“Oh I hate that tone.” he mumbles, passing you a pack of baby wipes from the diaper bag and getting back into bed as you clean up.

“I’m just saying…I think I won that one.”

He scoffs at this.

“Sure. How many times did you come from that?”

“Hey- I’m not the one bitching out here. You said you’d fuck me until my pussy couldn’t take any more. And I could take much more than your little dick can give me.”

He pulls you close, closing his eyes. “I hate you.”

“And that’s why you’re marrying me, right?”

“Mm. Why else?”

His voice drags from exhaustion. Soon, he’s asleep and snoring softly into your ear.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

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#the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #umbrella academy smut #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x oc #number five imagine #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves imagine #number five smut #number 5 imagine #number 5 #fanfic #ao3 writer #tua fanfic #umbrella academy fanfic #five hargreaves x oc #number 5 x oc #hard feelings #Thing of the Past #triggering themes #content warning

[freebirdyance]

This was not Ace's first time seeing the inside of the school. No, that had been when Irene had brought him for a tour and to sign some papers. He hadn't thought he'd be allowed to sign anything yet. But it's his first time alone.

He feels lost in a sea of people his own age, surrounded on all sides by teenagers who give him a wide berth. School had started months ago, what's this kid doing here? Is he new? Transferred from out of town? You think it's another one of those kids from the house on Winter Street? Orphans, right? No, throwaways—

There's a lot of voices. It's uncomfortable. He hasn't been in a place with this many people. He doesn't know why it makes him so viscerally uncomfortable, like his skin doesn't fit. Like the light hurts.

Ace has a map. He can follow a map. All he has to do is find this room. And he can ask for help if he needs it, even though he knows words would get stuck and he wouldn't be able to.

He knows he doesn't look the best, old clothes, too thin, the still-healing injury on the back of his skull. So he doesn't really want to talk to anyone. He just wants to get through these months and get his diploma and never look back.

Ace misses his uncle. His classes were fun. And had less people.

Lost in rapidly spiraling thoughts, and in his map, he doesn't notice someone's stopped in the hallway until he's running into their back. It almost makes him fall backwards and he just freezes, unsure how to navigate this situation at all.

Yancy had heard something about a new kid coming to school. In fact, everyone couldn't seem to shut up about it. He didn't care; high school was his slice of normalcy that kept him away from his fucking parents and their bullshit demands. A haven he was going to lose after he graduated this year and did... whatever he was going to do.

He couldn't worry about dumb shit like where a new kid is from.

Yancy towers over everyone as he navigates through the hallway, ignoring the various stares and wide berth he's given. For the most part, at least. He gets a few looks and waves from some theater and band kids, and some... interested parties. Oh shit, there's Marcie. He was supposed to call her... walk faster.

His attention was then pulled further down the hallway as a loud voice echoes through the crowd.

"What the fuck?"

The person Ace ran into is Todd Haverson. Unfortunately for him, Todd is a real asshole. Not captain of the football team level, but close enough. He barely moves when he's bumped into, but one wouldn't be able to tell with the way he turns around and glares at Ace with disgust.

"Watch where the fuck you're going... wait a second. You're the new kid, yeah?" The already smug smile twists into something more cruel as he looks Ace over. "Is it true you're the new mutt from that house on Winter Street?"

#yancys out and about (rp thread) #before calamity and greatness (teen mb!yance) #the graves family #teen ace

[faegoddessog]

Woman in Red Ch 3/?

Chapter 3: Unbuttoning

Series Summary: She's a very successful woman who can't seem to find a partner that can keep up with her. He is just wanting to find someone who likes him for HIM, not his fame. Neither of them are prepared for what hits them when she walks into that coffee shop.

A/N: (telephone voice) Please enjoy the pussy eating as the desired heat is reached...

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@purejasmine @slowsweetlove @richardslady121 @austinbutlerslovers

Chapter 3: Unbuttoning

“You’ll just have to see,” she beckons him inside, pulling the shelves closed behind him. 

She leads him up a dimly lit spiral staircase, to a small landing and a tall door. If the walls were stone, it’d feel just like a castle.

“I just love a good secret passageway, don’t you?” she says pressing the keypad buttons. 

“As long as it doesn’t lead me to certain death,” he jests a bit nervously.  

Aya just shakes her head as the keypad beeps and the door swings open. 

They step inside a large marble floored foyer.  As she closes the door behind him, he turns to see that it’s disguised as a large mirror. There is a set of elevator doors to the left and a modest but nice kitchen to the right. Nothing looks dubious, it’s airy and clean.  A bench with obvious spots for shoes, clues him into toeing off his boots and placing them neatly under.  As she walks further in, low lights turn on around her and music starts to play, like magic. 

“Whoa, is this an apartment? Do you actually live here?”  he looks around, it’s the last thing he expected to see.

“Only during the work week,” she hangs his jacket in an inconspicuous closet. 

“How did you swing that, do you know the owner of the building?” “Austin,  I AM the owner of this building and that one,” Aya points out the windows, “and those two there and a couple you can’t see from here.”

“Oh, well, my apologies,” he says, feeling only slightly foolish. He didn’t know she had THAT kind of money. 

“How could you know,” she shrugs, “I work like ten plus hour days when I’m here, so it just made sense. Plus that means when I’m NOT here, I’m not working.”

She gives him the five cent tour. It’s not that huge of a place, although the high ceilings make it feel big. It has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large workout room  and a living room with a big cream colored couch that faces the big windows with that familiar city view.    

“I hope it’s obvious by now that my intentions in bringing you here are not… um… wholesome,” she explains, ”I plan to wear you out then nudge you, not text you, for breakfast. If you are up for it.“  

“It has been made clear, yes. And uh… I don’t think I could turn down breakfast,” he rubs his stomach. ”Besides, you’ve captured me in your secret sex tower,” he smiles wrapping his arms around her, “however will I get away.”

“Well, I think it’s about time you take me out of this dress,” she looks up at him, her eyes sparkling with desire.

“I must confess,” his hand runs over the buttons on her side, “I have been enamored of these buttons since the coffee shop.” 

“These old things? Well I suppose they are good buttons,” her hands slide up his arms and rest behind his neck.

“And when we parted, all I could think all afternoon was how much I wanted to slip them through their buttonholes.” 

“And now?” she licks her lips and raises her eyebrow as her fingers delicately play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He breathes out a soft laugh and leans down to her ear.

“Now I want to rip them off,” he whispers, voice low,  pressing his hips to her body. 

His hot breath plays over her neck, goosebumps trickle down her arm. The hardness she feels through his trousers is promising.

“Do it,” she whispers back. 

“Oh no,” he leans back and smiles, “I know better than to ruin a woman’s clothing. May I?” he is eternally polite as he fingers the first button.  

She nods. 

“Besides, you are like fine wine,” his deft fingers undo a button. “I plan on taking you,” another button hole stretches open, “all night long,” another button, “over,” another, “and over.” The last button slips, and  the fabric drapes loosely on her form. “If you think you can handle it.” The look in his eye is almost challenging. 

“Austin, you’d better be able to deliver on that,” she smiles up at him. This is what she has hoped for, and why she wanted to bring him here. Dalia had said she would have to work hard to wear this one out. Time to test that theory.

“Oh, honey I can and I will,” he breaths out the words into her mouth as he overtakes it. 

His kiss is laced with every ounce of desire he had built up through the day.  He pulls her tight to him, cupping her jaw.  “May I?” his finger slips under the strap at her shoulder. 

“Austin,” she sighs, grabbing his hand and looking earnestly into his eyes, “I know you are a gentleman, but you don’t have to keep asking for permission. I know what I want, ok. I will stop you if I’m not comfortable or need something different, and I expect you to do the same. Alright?”

“Alright,” he was not used to women being so straightforward with him anymore. Lately, he felt that he had to go above and beyond in order to cover his bases for consent, far more than normal. It gave him a certain level of comfort, knowing she was so intrepid about sex.

He pulls the strap over her head. An unwitting ‘Oh’ leaves his lungs as he pushes the dress off her other shoulder. He had been imagining this all day, the unveiling of her curves. His eyes follow his fingers over her collarbone and down the cleavage of her simple nude bra. They float over the tattoo of a white snake eating its tail on a cosmic stardust background that adorns the right side of her torso.  He lands his palm on the lace of her matching panties at her hip.  Her skin is so soft and warm. His cock presses harder against the fly of his pants, he reaches down and adjusts himself as his eyes drink her in, from the curve of her belly to the plushness of her red lips.  Her complete comfort in her own body is sexy as hell. 

She catches the dress in her hand and flings it over the couch next to them. Never letting his eyes go. She runs her hand up under his shirt, letting her fingertips explore his abdomen and chest. She lifts the hem of his shirt as he simultaneously reaches back and peels his shirt off over his head, tossing it in the direction of her dress. 

“Oh my god,” she breathes, fingers tracing the perfect outline of his muscles. He isn’t even flexing to show off, this is just…him. 

Her fingernails graze his nipples, his pecs tighten momentarily and little shivers run down his neck. He tries to relax as her fingers play in the light hairs on his chest and drag down the defined midline of his abs to little trail of hair under his belly button. She pushes one finger into his waistband. He knows he’s been working his ass off in the gym lately. Where he is proud of his body, he’s also not one of those bodybuilder flexing guys. 

She circles him, fingers dragging around his torso in deep appreciation. He was fucking flawless. She stops behind him. Both hands run up the columns next to his spine and out over his traps. 

“Fuck me, you must work hard,” Aya breathes.

“I do, and I plan to,” he answers in reverse order, smirking over his shoulder at her. He is decidedly un-shy in this moment. 

Aya presses her body to his back. It’s solid and warm against her chest. She reaches around his waist to unclasp and unzip his trousers from behind.  She slides her hands between his underwear and pants, cupping his bulge. Gently rubbing her palms up and down, she enjoys hearing  the catch in his breath. She pulls the waistband away and over his cock. His hands help push both past his hips and they fall to the floor.

Her forehead presses between his shoulder blades and she breathes in his scent. Masculine and clean with a touch of some kind of essential oil. His naked ass is stunning.  She wraps her hand around his girth, letting her sense of touch tell her all she needs to know about his cock. His chest expands in a little gasp. He feels big in her hand. She gently savors the feel of his length against her palm while her other hand snakes around to the roundness of his ass. 

He is so sumptuous and sexy.  Oh lord, the unholy things she wants him to do to her. 

Austin had never had a woman disrobe him from behind. He watches her fingers expertly handle the fly of his slacks then unabashedly fondle him. He had been planning on turning around and kissing her,  but suddenly his dick was out. It was a almost a dominance move that suddenly released him from having to take charge. Not that he minds being in charge, most of the time. Her casual boldness sparks his balls. Seeing only her hand moving gently up and down his shaft sends wildfire through his body. He reaches back with both hands to her hips, fingertips denting her flesh. 

She is so stunning and shamelessly sensual. Oh lord the unholy things he wants to do to her. 

He sucks air in through his teeth as her thumb glides over his weeping tip. He tries to keep his hips from straining forward into her grasp but is only moderately successful. 

“Is there, uh… anything you don’t want me to do, that you know you don’t like?” Austin asks over his shoulder, his voice trying to maintain calm.  He can barely contain himself right now, but he likes being thorough with his research before starting  a project. He likes to please whomever he is with.

“Good question, I’m not into being peed on, but if that’s your kink we can discuss it.” 

Austin lets out a puff of a laugh and shakes his head, “No.” 

“No bloodletting or knives” she says matter of factly. Concern flashes across his face as if he’d never considered such a thing. “Also,” she carries on quickly, “you don’t always have to be gentle,  I won’t break if you are a little rough with me.  My safe word is Newfoundland. Other than that, don’t uh… just don’t stop.” She cages his balls in a loose fist and presses her hips up against him at the word ‘stop’.

The words ‘yes ma’am’  are poised on his lips. They come out as a gasp when she grabs him and thrusts against his ass.  Suddenly turned on by the hint at role reversal, he turns around, unrestrained fire in his eyes. He grabs her face, kissing her hard and passionately. Her bra evaporates along with her panties.

His knee drops to the designer couch. His tongue trails down her neck, and onto her breasts. Those beautiful globes turn out to be real, as advertised. He cups them in his hand, tongue lightly flicking her nipples. Her light moan above him makes the corner of his mouth turn up.  

Her skin is so soft against his lips and tongue, he loves the feel of her in his mouth.  He is far more oral than he likes to admit. In the dark hours of the night, he has pondered what it would be like to suck a cock while stroking his own. It’s not the only secret desire that he’s kept to himself. 

His kiss is intense and his tongue demanding. Aya’s inner thighs are suddenly wet with slickness as Austin’s mouth makes promises to her without using words. He kneels before her, feasting on her breasts.   She is pleasantly surprised at how soft his tousled hair is between her fingers. It has a gorgeous texture, enough to give her fingers traction if she needs to pull.

His hand slides down the curve of her belly, over her lightly furred mound and between her legs. She steps her feet apart. The flat of his hand rubs back and forth against her bare lips. 

“Je-sus,” he murmurs, his palm slick with her juices, “Ma’am, I’m afraid you may have a problem,” he withdraws his hand, showing her how wet she is. 

“You think? It’s more like an opportunity, if you ask me. Either way, what are you going to do about it, huh?” Aya’s voice slips into a sexy contralto, her fist tightening momentarily in his hair, pulling his gaze up. Dominance move. 

Their eyes meet. Her dominance falters with the depth of desire she sees in him. He never wavers his gaze as he pulls her down to sit on the wide couch, pushes her to lean back, and presses her knees apart. She is hypnotized by him. 

He wants her so badly, it nearly burns as he folds his long legs up under him on the fluffy rug. The air in the room is thick with desire. He wants to sink his dick into her wetness and fuck her for hours. And he will, because where she is merely gambling on the hope,  he knows he has the stamina. Right now though, he’s gonna savor every second of this. As her knees give way to his pressure, he can smell her arousal and it’s intoxicating.

“What do you think I’m gonna do?” he teases her, licking his full, gorgeous lips. 

“Well, I think you are going to show me how talented that tongue of yours really is and see if you can make me cum,” she states bluntly, “and if you do, I am going to grind my hips into your beautiful face. I will look down and see those gorgeous eyes of yours looking up at me and lose my shit. I will feel you groan against me as I wash your tongue in my juices. And your hips will make your cock beg and plead to be inside me.”

“Mmm,” his teeth bite into his lip as her blatant description fires him further. “Somewhat accurate. It’ll be more than just my tongue and I know I will make you cum and you’ll be begging me .” He punctuates his sentence by yanking her by the hips to the edge of the couch. 

He kneels before her, lowering his face close to her, eyes closed, inhaling her like a prayer. 

Aya’s lip curls at his confidence. Time to put his money where his mouth is.  Her lips catch in her teeth. She considers flipping him on his back and riding his face right there on the floor. But she has to see if his tongue will live up to all his promises. Her hips tilt up of their own accord, begging for him to take a taste. 

Austin can feel her whole body poised and anticipating, begging for his next move. She is so damn sexy laid back on the couch, legs splayed, wet pussy open and eager. Finally, his tongue reaches out and licks a slow, soft streak along her labia. He loves the first taste. He groans as he goes in for another one, pushing his tongue in just a bit father this time. The third time, he comes away with a string of wet on his tongue that breaks when he pulls it in, letting her juices coat his mouth.  A soft moan escapes her as he spreads her labia apart with his fingers, revealing her wet inner lips. Austin’s tongue licks them gingerly to each side revealing her slightly gapped slit. Slow and with a deep vibrating moan, he presses into her pussy. He gathers her juices on his tongue until his nose is squashed up against her mons. He is in heaven. Austin loves the taste of pussy, the feel of it on his tongue. He’s fucking oral as hell. 

She watches as his tongue frolics on her, twirling the locks of his glorious hair around her fingertips. It’s not until his soft, wet tongue dives into her and  up towards her clit that her fingers curl and she sucks in a breath. She feels his hand slipping under his chin, fingers just teasing her entrance.  Her head drops back against the couch, focusing on the movement of his tongue and the soft touch of his fingertip. 

His eyes are closed, completely absorbed in exploring her with his mouth, head moving in concert with his lips and tongue, dipping along her folds.  His full bottom lip trailing wetly after his tongue.  The movement of his finger seems tentative, up and down, in a little at a time.   But he knows that little actions can have big rewards. Little moans and whimpers start falling from her mouth above him. Sounds that, when they reach his ears, cause him to growl against her in reply.   His cheeks hollow as he sucks her clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. His finger slides fully into her warm wet vagina. 

"Oh holy fuck," she moans, lifting her head to look down. He is naturally gorgeous, even more so between her legs. His groans reverberate into her pussy, his hips pulse forward in short bursts.  His whole body strains-  agitated, excited. His free hand is kneading into her waist, pulling her closer. He is devouring her.  Seeing his obvious arousal from eating her out sends her over the edge. Her orgasm rises, her hands grip his hair, pulling. Her whole body seems to contract in pleasure then release with wordless groan. It’s a good orgasm.

His tongue slows as she catches her breath.  The flat of his tongue travels gently along the length of her slit in long licks lapping up the juices leaking from her. She shivers as he lightly passes over her clit. He had indeed made her cum, she thought, no empty promises there. With a mind to return the favor, she begins to sit up. 

When he feels her back start to rise from the couch. He growls low, vibrating her sensitive pussy. The glance he gives her over her mound is feral and stops her in her tracks. With his free hand on her sternum, he pushes her back down. A predatory arm winds around her thigh.

“M’ not done,” he mumbles into her, tightening a little on her leg. 

Aya’s mouth drops open, enormously turned on by his dominance. 

His fingers curl deep into her front wall, hooking up behind her pubis. His head snakes back and forth, nestling in again. His tongue swipes on her clit before he pulls it into the vacuum of his mouth again. She squeals and jerks a little above him. His tongue becomes relentless. He refuses to give her a moment of reprieve. Licking, lapping, sucking, feeling her cunt flutter around his fingers. God, he loved this part and loved that she was so responsive. 

“Oh god! No! Yes! No! Fuck! Don’t stop!” her head is jerking this way and that. She is  already sensitive from her first orgasm.  She’s not sure what she wants in the next moment, and equally unsure if she even gets a choice. Then his lips are sealed to her pussy  and it’s as if he is sucking the orgasm from her. His confidence was well founded. The plush-lipped, long-tongued, talented fucking mouth on this man.  Her spine undulates into another, deeper orgasm from his fingertips pulsing on her g-spot and the magnificence of his mouth. Her mind is floating somewhere nearby, her thoughts just flashes, compared to the focus between her legs. True to her prediction, she can’t help grinding against his beautiful and talented face.

Austin can’t stop his hips from pulsing, rubbing his cock just a little against his own belly as he is hunched over in front of her. Her hips try to rock away and his arm clamps like steel on her thigh. He won’t let her get away from this exquisite torture. He feels her ankles lock together behind him, her thighs threatening to crush his head. Her back arches away from the couch, her hands pushing at his head. He is determined to ride her out, rising and falling as she bucks and screams. His fingers fucking her as his tongue milks her fast, then slow. Giving her barely a moment for breath, before speeding up again and, causing a whole new flood of delicious juices into his waiting mouth. Only once her voice starts to sound hoarse does he stop is oral assault. 

“Oh… gaw,” she pants out to the ceiling, “tha’ was....incredible.” Aya tilts her head up to the sight of him kneeling in front of her with the biggest grin on his face. His eyes are blue rimmed apertures, dark with desire. He looks like a naughty boy in a special kind of candy store. His mouth had made good on its promises. Better than good. God, he has her so heady. Austin Butler between her legs was now the bar set. She had never had a man lick her pussy like that. Most did it as a means to an end, he did it like he was a student of cunnilingus, vying for the professorship. 

He watches her blissed out face from the valley of milk and honey between her legs. He neglects to wipe his wet chin. He loves being covered in it. 

“MMM, your cum tastes so good,” he murmurs into her lips, eyes closing again. He can feel her shiver ever so slightly at the touch.  

“Do I?” he hears above him, “show me,” her voice is low and sultry. 

Her fingers tighten on his hair, tugging him towards her face. She doesn’t know just how effective that is, how tender headed he is.  She gathers his bottom lip with her tongue, sucking it into her mouth. The soft velvet of her tongue on his lip and the low moan she emits fills his senses. The taste of her sweet saltiness mingles on their tongues. As Austin rises further, the kiss turns into a heated mess of lips, tongues and teeth. Hands grasping, pulling bodies close. Breathy moans pass back and forth between them. His glutes tense and release without knowing it. His swollen cock searches blindly for warm wet sensation, only to find the creamy fabric of the couch. 

“I need you in me,” Aya moans against his lips. 

#austin butler #austin butler fanfic #austin butler smut #austin butler fic