#give me a break its 1 in the morning

[toxic-emilia]

what if Failboat dying had more angst around it. Like in cannon he sees his mom,gets brought back to life and then acts like everything is Fine. Like what if he gets scars from it . He has faint scars from everyones attack. Like blast scars on his arms.

#failboat #Failboat brainrot at its finiest #its 1:29 in the morning and i just ate krispi chips give me a break #the items name is really Krispi #post

[nivisdreaming]

Kinktober Day 1: Size - Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Size play, predator/prey dynamics, established relationship, piv penetration, no protection, creampie, teasing, praise, sub!reader, dom!miguel, subspace implied, reader gets fucked so good she passes out, aftercare is included

Notes: first time writing for miguel? pog? also welcome to kinktober everyone its gonna get freaky >:)

Miguel is constantly pinning you to things. He’s not even doing it on purpose necessarily, he’s just so big.

It’s not his fault that he’ll reach for something over your head, or try to scooch behind you in the kitchen or hallway, and all of a sudden you’re pushed against the nearest surface being towered over by a 6’9 spider hybrid.

What is his fault is how he abuses it once he realizes how flustered it makes it. He’s always been very perceptive when it came to you. He knows how your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, how your breath hitches, and your thighs squeeze together in need, right as you look upward to view him caging you in. It always gives a sickening ego boost. You’re just so small compared to him. Breakable. Fragile. Delicate. Delicious.

He starts subtlety. Sneaking behind you when you’re making morning coffee, hovering behind when you work at your desk, and of course, getting you down on your knees for him whenever possible. It doesn’t take long to escalate however, coming to a head one night before he is set to attend a Spider Society gala with you as his plus one.

You slide the dress up your body carefully, allowing the snug material to cling tight around your breasts in its strapless style. You straighten it out and peered over your shoulder to call, “Miggy? Can you come zip me up please?”

You adjust your hair and makeup in the mirror as you listen to his lumbering footsteps, smiling when he appears behind you, his eyes tracing over your curves in the reflection. He takes a step closer, and the way his shoulders dwarf yours causes your breath to hitch. He slides a hand up your side and another comes to rest on the back of your neck. You open your mouth to make the request again, but the air is knocked out of you as he pushes forwards, pinning you firmly to the floor-length mirror without looking away from his scanning of your body.

“Sweet, tiny little thing. You’re so easy to push around, aren’t you, mi princesa?” He pushes his hips forward to rut against your ass, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from the combo of his growling tone and his hot erection against you. He leans down to nip at your earlobe before muttering, “I know you love how much bigger than you I am. Does it make you feel all funny? To know how I could wreck you, how I could turn you into my cowering prey, stuck underneath me? It makes your brain all fuzzy. And it makes your cunt dripping wet.” He uses the hand on your side to tug up the dress, exposing your bare ass. He scoffs at the lewdity and gives one of the round globes a spank, forcing a whimper from you.

You watch him in the mirror as he blocks you in on all sides while running a finger down to your folds, teasingly sliding it against your entrance before bringing it to his month to suck off the slick. He hums in approval and moves his arms to sit on either side of your head, leaving you boxed in but free to move against him.

“Spin around. I wanna look you in the eyes while I stretch your tight pussy to it’s breaking point, and if I see you look away I will make sure neither of us sees this event tonight.”

You gulp and slowly twirl around, having to crane your neck to meet his eyes even as he leers down at you. He places a hand over yours and coaxes it to the front of his crotch, using you to squeeze at his bulge before instructing you to undo the zipper and pull him out. You obey without hesitation, allowing him to tug down the top of your dress and reveal your tits as you do. His cock springs eagerly from its confines, precum already leaking from the tip that has flushed a deep purple.

Instinctively you try to drop down to your knees, your clouded headspace demanding that you needed to gag around him as soon as possible, but he manhandles you back up and off the ground with your wrists above your head and legs wrapped around his slutty waist. The rough force has you moaning softly, eyes already glazed over despite the lack of direct stimulation. It makes him chuckle darkly.

He lines his tip up with your entrance and gives no warning before sliding in with a single thrust. The slick dripping down your thighs is plenty of lube as he begins an earth-shattering pace, hips slamming into yours and tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. He leans down and vigorously sucks and bites around your breasts, littering them with hickeys while you cry on his cock, sobbing hysterically from pleasure.

He pulls away from his marking to take in your appearance, at the fat globs of tears gathering on your cheeks make his hips stutter and his abs tense. “God, princesa, feels so good to corrupt you like this,” he switches his grip from your hip to your tummy so he can thumb at your clit, “So ruined for me. Molded this tiny cunt to my dick, so it’s perfect just for me.” You whimper at the praise, jaw dropping open and tongue lolling out as he slides against the spongey spot inside you and rubs fast circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, my good little girl. So delicate, just gotta take care of you by breaking that poor little brain every once and awhile. Go ahead sweet thing, cum on me, show me how good little prey thank the predators.” His words send you spinning into the abyss, everything in your body pulling taunt and then snapping back as your vision goes from white to black and suddenly you’re so light and floaty that you can’t feel the way you soak Miguel’s cock, nor the way he cums deep inside you as your walls milk him dry. You don’t feel him carry you to the bed, or feel him drag the damp cloth between your legs. You don’t feel how he kisses both your cheeks in hopes of getting your eyes to flutter open, to no avail.

What you do feel is when he pulls your trembling body against his broad chest, rubbing up and down on your arms softly and whispering to you. “Mi amor, you gotta come back to me now. Open up those eyes for me. You did so good for me baby, surprised you made it as long as you did without passing out on my dick. C’mon, wakey wakey corazón.” His words are encouragement enough to float back downwards, settling into his touch until you have enough strength to pull your eyelids open and peer up at him with large doe-eyes. “Aw, welcome back little girl. Te amo.”

#kinktober 2023 #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #dom!miguel o'hara #sub!reader

[eroselless]

I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME 

Summary: You and Lando need to talk after what transpired on the car ride to the hotel. What will you both decide? [2.5k]

[lando norris x reader ]

MASTERLIST | Part 1 - LAY UR HANDS ON ME

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, unprotected sex, oral, missionary

Note: Thank you all so much for the love, support and patience! I wanted it to be spicy but also a little soft, I hope it comes off that way. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 I hope it's alright that I tagged everyone who commented on part 1! Happy reading, love you all!

The tension in the air is palpable. It’s fog clinging to the morning air, waiting to dissipate. It’s a sink threatening to overflow, every passing moment teetering closer to the edge of chaos. It’s a champagne bottle, waiting for just the right push to pop. Lando stands with his back to the hotel door as you stand in front of your bed, fidgeting with your fingers. The silence in the elevator and the walk to the room is almost frightening. The adrenaline from the car ride had slowly faded as you stood, frozen in place. Your palms feel sweaty, your heart pounding in your chest. You both stand in the limbo of uncertainty’s clutch. 

“What if we just –”

“We can pret –”

Your words collide in the air, an awkward and strained laugh escaping the both of you. Doubt begins to gnaw at your mind, maybe he’s regretting it? You wonder. Maybe he was in need of some release and you happened to give it to him. 

“If you want,” you begin tentatively, voice barely above a whisper. “We can pretend this never happened.” 

Lando takes in a sharp breath, nodding. He shifts from foot to foot, bottom lip curled between his teeth as he nervously bites into it. He blinks, eyes watering. His chest begins to tighten up and he feels like he could break down then and there. Maybe in the spur of the moment, his lapse of judgment was the final straw that broke the camel's back and you’re eager to forget about the eventful ride over.  

“Is that what you want?” he asks, sitting down on his bed. His voice is quiet, barely audible as he twists his fingers in his hands. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes and stares down at your shoes. 

A heavy silence envelops the room, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, anticipation building in the man who sits before you. Blinking the tears that had snuck into your eyes, you shake your head. Your chest feels heavy as you answer him.

“No.”

The single word cuts through the air like a knife and hands there for a second. Time stands still for a moment as Lando’s head whips up to look at you. Time crashes down over you as he collides with you.

You weren’t quite sure of what you expected from your first kiss with Lando yet as his lips brushed with yours you couldn’t help but be struck by how perfect his lips felt on yours. His hands are cradling your cheeks, fingers pressing lightly into your skin as if he’s scared he’ll shatter you like fine porcelain. There is a delicate urgency in how his lips dance over yours. Years upon years of longing rising to the surface of your skin. His tongue slips past your lips, he can taste the remnants of the wine from earlier, a mixture of desire and indulgence. 

His hands move with a purpose, one gently placed at the joint of your jaw, a possessive gesture that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. The other rests firmly on the small of your back, pushing you closer with a quiet promise of ecstasy to come. He nudges your chin up with his hand, moving slowly and carefully. 

He pulls away, eyes droopy and half-lidded with desire. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You’re both heaving as you stand in the middle of the room, taking a moment to admire one another. The youthfulness and beauty of his face are so much more evident up close. It's nothing short of captivating. You had always thought he was handsome but now you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You can count the freckles scattered on his sun-kissed skin, the speckles of colour in his eyes are like shards of glass and his long lashes frame them beautifully. 

His hands fall from your face, sliding down and behind your shoulders. “Turn around,” he says. You comply, moving to face the other way. His hands move over the expanse of your back and you get a flashback to the moment you sat in his lap, just under 15 minutes ago.  His breath is fanning on your back, a familiar chill surging through your body again. 

His fingers land on the zipper of your dress, tugging on it as he asks for your permission to take it off. You nod, collecting your hair to one side. He pulls the zip down, fingers dragging lightly over the increasingly exposed skin. He presses his mouth tenderly to your spine, pulling a shaky breath from your lips. He pushes the straps of your dress off your shoulders, sending the fabric to the floor. It leaves you standing in your underwear, having foregone a bra. You turn around to face him, eyes scanning his face once again.

His lips find their way to your jaw, nipping lightly at it. You push his blazer from his shoulders, moving to unbutton his crisp white shirt. 

He shoves you lightly but with enough force to send you falling back onto the bed. He can’t help but admire you as you lay there. Your hair is out in a halo around your head and you're propping yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide as you gaze up at him.

He pulls his trousers off and you can see the shape of his cock through his boxers. Lowering himself on top of you, he litters kisses over your chest, lips coming to wrap around a pebbled nipple. You arch your back slightly at the feeling of his lips over the sensitive bud. Your hand goes to his hair, threading through it as he pushes his face further into the plushness of your tit. His other hand is snaking down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as he moves down, sitting back on his knees. He pulls a leg up over his shoulder, beginning to trail kisses from your ankle to your knee. Your skin is soft and warm, goosebumps starting to bloom over it. 

You’re nervous as he makes his way up your thigh, teeth teasingly dipping into the soft skin. You let out a gasp as he does so, moving his lips to your other leg. In an instant, he’s back at the top of your leg, at the junction where they meet. He kisses the damp fabric of your underwear, eyes peering up at you. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks innocently. You hesitate, heart threatening to pop out of your chest. You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His fingers hook around your underwear, pulling them down swiftly. Your knees come together on instinct.

He lets out a small chuckle, moving onto the floor in front of the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the crook of your knees, pressing a kiss to each one. 

“I want a taste.” He hums, only causing your heart to beat faster. His hands move up to take hold of your hips, pressing his cheek to your knees as if to ask are you ready? He waits until you’ve given him a small yet decisive yes before gently pulling your legs open. He goes straight to your sex, pressing his lips to your folds before spreading them open, making a v with his fingers. He teases you, letting out a single soft puff. His tongue darts out, dragging over the sensitive flesh but not over the part where you need him most. This causes your hips to buck up, aching for more of his touch. He continues, now plunging his tongue inside you.

“Fuck –” you moan out, body beginning to tremble with need as he shoves his face even closer. Your fingers pull harshly at his hair as he flicks his tongue expertly at your hole, his groan sending vibrations through your body. His fingers grip tight at your hips, grounding you in place. He sends a red-hot feeling through you as he fucks the muscle into you steadily. It pokes into a spongy, sensitive spot within you. He pulls away, blowing gently at the wet skin. 

“God, baby. You taste so fucking good.” 

He slips a finger in, thumb moving in careful circles over your clit, eliciting more moans from you. A smile is playing on his lips, as you feel yourself teetering towards the edge, a coil tightening in your gut. You cry out, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Your hips are bucking and your legs try to close around his head.

He doesn’t stop licking and sucking at you, easing you down from your orgasm. Your chest heaves and you shake breathlessly. He pulls away, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes sparkle with lust as he presses his lips one more time to the skin of your thigh. It’s a look you’d only imagined in your mind. 

He stands over you, admiring how you look with your cheeks flushed and a light layer of sweat on your skin. Your chest is rising up and down quickly as you come down from your high. You’re staring up at him, eyes hazy and lips parted. You look ethereal, a piece of art hanging in a museum, the image of perfection. 

Regaining your breath, your hands work on Lando’s boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free. It taps lightly at his stomach, a bead of pre-cum on the red angry tip. You wrap a hand around it, thumb going to run over the crease of the head. Lando hisses and shakes his head at you begin to jerk your hand. His voice is strained as he tells you no.

“Not tonight,” he says, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Just need to be inside you.”

You nod, moving up the bed, into its centre. He crawls over you, showering your body with kisses as he does so. A kiss right over your pubic bone, one on your ribcage and the last one over the corner of your mouth. 

He stares into your eyes as he pushes in, bottom lip trapped between his teeth to keep him quiet. He fills you in a single movement, one powerful thrust. Your breath hitches as he does so, lips forming a tight o. You can feel his cock hit you just at the right spot, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. The squeeze of your cunt around his cock was better than Lando could have imagined. 

He’s pushing your knees up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he starts a slow grind. He rolls into you, pushing deeper and deeper as he goes. He feels so good, it’s almost unbearable. You’re completely at his mercy, his touch spreading fires in you, wherever it goes. 

You're writhing beneath him as he kisses you. His tongue is darting into your mouth, stealing your breath away. 

“You’re so pretty like this, baby” he says over the sound of himself sliding in and out of you with ease. The sound is slick and wet, it’s filthy yet it only makes you fall deeper into pleasure’s embrace. Your body molds perfectly into him and you find yourself wondering how you’d never noticed that before. All those times when he held you, when you held him. There were so many signs and you were both oblivious to them. 

He pushes down on your lower tummy and it presses something deeper within you. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands find purchase on Lando’s shoulder, pulling him down so you’re almost chest to chest. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he mumbles, lips against the shell of your ear. You clench around him, the words only spurring you on. He continues to fuck you into the mattress, stroking your walls just right. 

“Lan, I –” you begin to say. The buildup is getting too much as you feel yourself swing closer to your climax. Lando can feel it too. The spasming of your body, the slight arch of your back. The air is knocked out of your chest as the moment hits, pleasure crashing over you. His name falls from your lips like a mantra and he only pushes faster. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you now. He thrusts into you one last time before he tips over the edge, losing himself then and there. 

You feel him let out a gasp as he collapses over you in a sweaty mess. His body is heavy laying on top of yours but it isn’t uncomfortable.  His skin is sticky and his breath fans over your neck. You’re both breathing heavily as the energy in the room begins to diminish. Your hand goes to thread through his unruly curls as he peppers light kisses to the column of your throat. 

He gets up after a few minutes, telling you to sit still as he does. He returns with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess you’ve made together. He tosses it away and crawls back towards you, pulling the cover over the top of your bodies. 

He stills against you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mind only filled with thoughts of you. He can only really think of how flawlessly you fit together. Or the feeling of how delicious you feel pressed up against him. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to make a move,” he says, peering up at you. You smile, shaking your head. “And I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” 

You both carry on there for a second, his cheek now pressed to your chest. His eyes have begun to flutter close as the gentle sound of your breathing slowly lulls him to sleep. His fingers are softly tracing circles on your ribcage where he holds you. There are no words exchanged between the two of you but there’s so much said in the silence as you cling to each other. 

“Lan..” you whisper, voice soft. He hummed in response, squeezing you. You nibbled your lip nervously as the words waited in your mouth.

“I love you.” his fingers stop in their tracks. He let out a gentle, barely audible chuckle. You’re unsure of what his reaction is.  He rises to his elbows and bounces slightly on the mattress, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

“Say it again,” he whispers, voice husky. His fingers are now prodding at your side and you let out bouts of laughter as he does.

“I love you.” he nips at the soft skin of your neck, evoking a laugh out of you. His energy seems renewed as his lips continue their dance over your skin and he gradually makes his way up to your face.

“I love you too,” he says, his smile wide, pulling you on top of him. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

@noneofyourfbusinessworld

@shellybee456

@m4rt10ne

@roostersluvvr

@playboygeniusphilanthropist

@landoslutmeout

@mlfdcm

@landosmybf

@fortunatelychocolatefest

@katieschry1

@scopeiguess

@idontcare011

@mylifeislikecandycanes

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris

[joeloverture]

morning cardio | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog pairing: dbf!neighbor!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your neighbor and dad's longtime buddy catches you sneaking back home after an underwhelming hook-up. you want more — he provides. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!neighbor!joel, age gap (23/50), reader has a bad relationship with her father, reader's father is overly strict, reader hooks up with an oc, dirty talk, soft!dom joel, degradation, praise, thigh riding, 1 spank, titty slapping, daddy kink, exhibitionism but nobody sees, almost caught, heavy petting, misogyny for sexiness that joel doesn't actually believe in since he's a sweetheart [no use of y/n] word count: 3.7k a/n: watch me almost exclusively post dbf joel. watch me. also, mind the tags, they've changed slightly since i posted the teaser. this was supposed to be a series. this is no longer the case bc i'm indecisive. sorry.

Mistake number one: your eyes are crusted shut with the mascara you’d forgotten to wipe off.

Mistake number two: the bed you wake up in is not your own.

Mistake number three: sleeping with your neighbor.

Rubbing your mascara-sealed eyes, you blink yourself into consciousness and instantly regret it. There’s a moment of stillness, time stretching as you take in the room underneath the swelling orange sunlight. The window is cracked just enough to give you a glimpse at the world outside — birds chirping, sprinklers spritzing, cars crunching gravel as they pull out of the driveway. Surrounding the narrow, rumpled bed is a graveyard of orphaned socks. A box fan whirrs in the corner. The room had felt much cleaner past midnight when it was only the yellowed street lamp outside shining through the window. Then you spot the digital clock on the cluttered bedside table reads 6:10, ten minutes later than you’d wanted to be awake for, and time returns to its regular pace.

Your heart kicks awake in your chest, veins going cold. You kick the sheets off of your sweaty body, roll out of bed, and stumble two steps before planting your feet on the carpet below. Even that isn’t enough to stir your hookup. Dylan Andrews.

It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Both of you were home for spring break. Both of you had flirted at the block party with each other. He was only decent-looking and mediocre with his hands, but you needed a break from spending another night in your childhood bedroom. What better way to do it than with a dick appointment?

Again. It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Sneaking out underneath the nose of your strict, tough-as-nails dad was the easy part. Sneaking back in? Less easy. And to make matters worse, you were already ten minutes behind.

Shit.

You tiptoe across the room, naked as the day you were born, and stuff your underappreciated lingerie into your backpack. Without even putting your panties or bra on, you hop into your shorts and wrestle with your hoodie. By the time you’re out of Dylan’s room, it’s 6:12.

The difference between your dad and Dylan’s mom? She doesn’t give a shit what side of town Dylan wakes up on or how much alcohol is sloshing around in his system as long as he’s safe. You’re not the first girl to do the walk of shame out of Ms. Andrews' generic McMansion house, and you’re far from the last.

She’s downstairs in front of the coffee maker, still wearing her pajamas and doing a Dollar General crossword when you slip past her kitchen unnoticed. The door clangs shut behind you, and you figure she must see you walking down the cul-de-sac.

Your dad always leaves for work at 6:45 after a freezing cold shower and a steaming cup of black coffee for balance. You can only hope his shower ran a little late and that he isn’t at the dining room table already. Cramming two steps into one, you continue with your beeline down the awakening street.

You’re followed home by the mailboxes and flower beds, the pebbles you kick with every step. You’re almost to the property line, prepared to make a mad dash to your front door when you hear the faint call of your name. You skid to a stop, and turn to face the source: the craftsman-style house next door.

And there he is – Joel Miller, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs of his front porch in nothing but his sleep shorts and a t-shirt, legs spread as wide as the chair can accommodate. There’s a smug, knowing look on his face, one that says I’ve caught you. See how you can get out of this.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been face to face with Joel — Mr. Miller. You’d think you’d see him more often, with him being your dad’s buddy and your neighbor, but it’s been since summer. You’re sure he must be having the time of his life by joining your just got laid parade.

“You’re up awful early,” he calls, beckoning you up the driveway with a come-hither movement of his fingers. Leaving your dignity at the curb, you pad up the yard to his porch, climbing one of the stairs to lean against the gutter that feeds into his shrubbery. Pollen and moss is scattered across the wooden deck, surrounding a package that he hasn’t bothered to pick up yet. His guitar is off to the side, propped up against the doorway of the house. You wonder if he’d been playing when he’d seen you walking by.

Joel’s covered for you before, briefly and sparingly. Taken the fall for the half-empty bottle of fireball in your dresser even though he’d never go within ten feet of that shit, blamed it on himself for accidentally leaving it behind after fixing a wheel that had jumped off track for you. Even though your dad had chewed him out for drinking on the job, he’d still managed to sneak it back to you with the wise words of hiding it in a sock next time. You’d been two months past your twenty-first when that had happened, and maybe Joel had pitied you after realizing how authoritarian his friend was.

You aren’t as sure if he’ll pity you now.

“Needed some fresh air,” you defend lamely, hands hanging limp by your sides.

“Needed some cock?” he corrects, and his bluntness makes you choke. He seems relaxed for the words that just came out of his mouth, fingers drumming on his impossibly large thighs, a playful smirk resting on his lips.

You sputter, “No! Jesus, what the hell–”

“I got eyes, hun. Saw you leave that Andrews kid’s place. Clearly he didn’t stick it to ya that good if you’re still walkin’ steady,” he comments. His head tilts.

“Joel,” you hiss, eyes flitting to your dad’s house next door. He seems to read your mind, his smirk widening.

“Wonder what your pops would think. Bet I have a pretty good idea. His little angel, sneakin’ around and whorin’ herself out.” He clicks his tongue at you. “A damn shame.”

Heat spools low in your stomach and down to your unsatisfied center. You wish you’d worn darker colored shorts instead of the flimsy gray things you have on. There’s no barrier of your panties to stop yourself from leaking all over them, and with the way Joel’s looking at you, eyes dark and sly, you’re wishing there was.

“Can’t even imagine what you’re gettin’ up to at that college ‘a yours. Bet you had five guys inside of ya all at once, and I sure ain’t talkin’ about burgers, hun.” He lounges back in his chair, watching you.

You feel yourself gush. Heat burns in your thighs, and they rub together on instinct, seeking to extinguish that brimming ache between your legs. You bunch your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt and can’t stop yourself from squirming underneath his gaze. It’s not like you’ve never thought about this, this with him of all people when you’re underneath your covers and your hand finds the warm junction between your thighs. Always unattainable. Always just out of reach.

You whisper again, “Joel,” but this time, it comes out as more of a moan. Humiliation warms your cheeks and chest, forming a different kind of pit in your stomach.

“Hmmmm?” Joel hums at you with a raised brow. He’s casual, indifferent, almost. But then his eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the wet patch smeared across the front of your shorts, the way your thighs press tight, tensing before letting go. “Ah. A little slut shamin’ gets you all riled up, hun?” That tears a whimper from you. He does that stupid come hither motion again, and like a lost dog, you listen. Standing in front of him, you feel completely, utterly exposed.

He adjusts himself in his chair, and you swallow the building lump in your throat when you see his bulge hardening. It sends another zap of heat to your core, and then another, more surprised one when his hand goes up to grab at your tit. Your breath catches as he thumbs one of your hardened nipples. A triumphant noise echoes out of him. “Braless, too?” His other hand goes down to your shorts, playing with the waistband. “Prancin’ around in these short, skimpy things, too. Practically giving the whole neighborhood a free peep show.”

His hand slides lower. Lower. Pans over to the crease of your thigh and then his thumb is planting over your clit, rubbing only once before he pulls away. “Messy pussy. Bet you stained the guys sheets.”

You’re quiet, staring at him, his wicked fucking expression, those hands that look like sin itself. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Ah. Poor baby. All this effort and you didn’t even get to come.” He just looks at you. Unmoving. Not doing a single damn thing to get you there.

“Please, Joel,” you whisper, embarrassed by the gritty need already embedded into your voice when he’s hardly even touched you.

And he’s still wearing that wolfish look, that tainted-with-intention gleam in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what you do want when he asks, “What? What do you want?” He licks his lips, a fleeting moment.

You look over your shoulder, at the rising street. Anyone could have their windows cracked. Anyone could hear you confess on this porch. Still, you murmur, “I… I want you to make me come, Joel.” Your voice shivers a little bit along with the stroke of wind that wisps against the backs of your thighs.

His brows raise together, now. His head tips forward. “What was that? A little louder. You know, my ears really ain’t the sharpest these days…”

Fucking bastard.

“I want,” you say again, fighting to stop your voice from wavering, to keep it not too loud but not too quiet. “you to make me come.”

Joel sucks on his teeth for a second. “Ohhh. Now I don’t think that’s really fair, hun.” He gives you a mockingly sad look.

“Why?” you ask, and you know you sound as whiny as a petulant child. But he’d been correct earlier. You put in all of this effort, sneaking out for a thrilling night that had turned into something more like two sweaty bodies moving together and only one of them feeling good from it. You want to feel good. You’re tired of looking at the right and the wrong. Joel’s sitting in front of you, his thumb still smelling like your arousal; that’s what’s right.

“You’re out here breakin’ all the rules. Shouldn’t be rewarding you for that, sweetheart. Besides, it’s a little fucked up, dontcha think? Makin’ you come all over me while your pops, my buddy, is none the wiser gettin’ ready for work next door?” His vulgarity only weakens you even more, pussy clenching and begging to be filled. You’re about to protest again when he cuts in, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help ya out.”

Your heart pedals in your chest, eager and wanting. But Joel, instead of getting up and elbowing you inside like you expect, stays right where he is. He pats one of his splayed thighs, the grin on his face only widening. Your face contorts. Joel hears your question before you ask.

“What? Never humped someone’s leg before? With how much of a bitch in heat you’re actin’ right now, I’m surprised.” You can feel the shock on your face plain as day. Joel jerks his head down to his thigh, egging you on. “Better hurry up if you want my help, sweetheart. Pretty sure your dad’s about to get goin’, and I sure don’t have all day, either.”

The rapidly shrinking part of yourself that isn’t consumed with desire tells you to take a step back. That anyone, God forbid, even the Adlers across the street could witness this. Talk about a free peep show.

You think of the alternative: sneaking back into your house with a hope and a prayer that your dad won’t find you, backpack over your shoulder and shoes on, as you climb the stairs back to your bedroom. Open up your Joel-advised dresser drawer of things your dad says you shouldn’t have and pull out your vibrator. Do the same old hassle of a routine, desperately trying to make yourself come. Reach an unfulfilling peak.

Or… take what Joel’s offering you. Risks and all.

You take a tentative step forward, glaring at Joel when he chuckles because of your hesitance, and plop yourself down on his thigh. The pressure against your clit immediately pulls a whimper from you. His big hands fix themselves on your hips, holding tight, but not too tight as to hold you captive against him. There’s still the faint existence of the Joel you’ve always known, considerate and sweet and all southern gentleman, that exists behind the guise of his dominance. 

You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy against him as you get a slow start to grinding your hips on his thigh. Although your movements are tentative, uncertain in nature, your head is already going fuzzy.

“Bet you’re only this wet cause that boy already put a new load in your dishwasher.” You scoff at him in disbelief — both at how much more wet it gets you, and how foul his words are. He chooses then to jerk you forward by the hips. You cry out as your pussy drags along the thick expanse of his thigh, clit catching on the bunched up fabric of your rumpled shorts.

“Zip it, you fuckin’ hussy. Ain’t a damn soul in this neighborhood that wants to wake up to you sobbin’ while gettin’ off on this thigh.” One of his hands drifts back to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. You hear the spank before you feel it, a sting that echoes and sticks right between your legs. He’s effortlessly strung a barbed wire of humiliation around your body. The lack of power makes your thighs clamp down around his, and you can’t tell if you crave more of it or despise it.

Unable to decide which, you loudly, exaggeratedly moan into his ear, still rocking down on his lap. It resounds through the neighborhood, the springboard roofs ricocheting you coquettish noises down the street and through the flowerbeds. A spooked crow lifts off of the power lines behind you, and you hear it squawk as its wings beat and carry it away.

Joel cocks his head at you, brow raised. “So it’s not just your legs that have a problem stayin’ shut. It’s your nasty mouth, too.” His hands migrate up your sides to your tits, which jostle with every flighty movement across his thigh. Before you know what he’s doing, he tweezes at your nipples in a way that makes you melt into him, forehead falling flat against his neck. And then he lands a hard smack across your chest, pleasure with a bite. Your hips jolt. “Behave for daddy before I make you walk next door draggin’ a snail trail behind ya.”

You know he doesn’t mean your real dad. A new rush of heat settles in your stomach, tightening your cunt from an ache to an insatiable thrumming that only Joel can solve. “Fuck,” you almost shout, but end up muffling into his skin with an open-mouthed kiss. He sighs, adjusting under you. The change in angle on your clit makes you whimper, especially when you feel his hardened length smushed against the outside of your thigh.

Your hand goes down to grip it, to participate in the push and pull, the cat and mouse, but he shakes his head, pulling it out of the way. He holds you by the small of your back, urging you to keep rubbing on him. “You’re lucky I’m even givin’ you my thigh,” he spits. “Ain’t gonna let you play chutes and ladders tryna make me come when I know damn well where that hand was last night.”

“Daddy,” you pout at him, lower lip jutting out.

He only shakes his head. “Don’t start.”

Whining in agitation, you manage to school yourself into behaving like he’d told you to. Every grind of your hips welcomes pleasure, beckons it, activates the porch light inside of you that invites it inside. You go limp against Joel as he guides you back and forth, and even limper when he tightens the muscle underneath your soaking core. Your hands anchor themselves on his broad shoulders, nails carving into his skin through the flimsy material of his shirt. He hisses underneath you, a break in his seemingly titanium resolve. You feel yourself getting closer, heat wreathing around your stomach, cunt clenching.

In your house, the foyer light flickers on.

Your hips stall over Joel’s as you see your dad’s backlit silhouette moving around in the foyer. Likely sliding on his shoes, patting his pockets for his wallet and his work phone���. You have two minutes at best.

Joel’s eyes follow your distracted line of vision. His amused chuckle warms the back of your neck. “Oughta hurry up if you don’t wanna get caught. Your old man would be in for a rude awakening, headin’ to work and finding his precious little girl fuckin’ my leg like a whore,” he murmurs.

He bounces his leg underneath you, and you bite back the needy cry that threatens to slip out. It feels so good, too good for you to think about anything other than the haze of arousal and pleasure that hovers over your head like a perpetual fog. You return to grinding down on him, hips pumping with a greater, renewed speed. “Attagirl,” Joel croons at you, and the hand at the small of your back presses harder, pushing you up and down his thigh.

Short, strained breaths of yours meet the morning air, eyes pinned on the rectangular window. It’s a golden-washed reminder of how wrong this is. Your dad would blow a gasket, see red, breathe fire at you if he knew exactly what was happening just a few feet away from his front yard.

But you forget all about that when Joel’s calloused fingers cup your chin, nudging you to look at him. His eyes are all pupil, darkened with something like starvation, something like want. “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” he coaxes, and he bounces his thigh again.

You’re close, you can feel it. He can feel it, too, in the way that your thighs fasten around his, your cunt rocking on him as your fervor makes the whole front porch shake and shudder. Tossing your hips back and forth, you wanted it, but now? Now you need it. Your stomach tightens, your legs shivering below you as your cunt gushes all over both of your shorts. “That’s it, baby, come on me like you were beggin’ to. ‘S alright, nice and easy for daddy, mhm?” He tenses his thigh one final time, and you lurch over that edge. “Gooood girl,” he hums as your cunt flutters against his leg. “You’re a daredevil, aren’t you?” he asks, jerking his head toward your house.

You figure you must be, after what you just did.

You’d planned on staying there, riding it out and trembling against his warm chest. But the garage cranks open. You jolt off of Joel’s lap, damn near teleporting across the porch with how fast you move. Joel smirks at you, crossing his unfucked leg over his freshly fucked one, where you’d rubbed your cum all over his skin until it’d glistened. The sight warms your stomach all over again, but it doesn’t last – nerves spasm in your ribcage as your dad ducks out into the driveway.

You fumble with your shorts, pulling them down and crossing your hands in front of the obvious stain on the gray fabric. Your dad squints across the yard, cupping a hand over his eyes. “Miller?” He calls your name shortly after, and you straighten. “You’re up early, kiddo.”

You open your mouth, on the precipice of a lie that you know won’t be good. It’ll come out unsteady, dishonest, and uneven. 

Joel points at the package at the foot of his doorstep. “My toolbox got sent to yours,” he explains. “Damn postal. ‘Bout as good as the Boston Post Road these days. But your kid’s got me covered. Raised her right.”

For the second time, Joel Miller covers for you. You have no idea where this leaves you, standing under your dad’s scrutinizing gaze. With your cum cooling and sticking to your folds the same way it’s cooling and sticking to his leg, Joel knows your secret. And he’s keeping it.

Your dad only gives a shallow nod, looking between the two of you. “Well,” he hooks a hand back at his truck. “I gotta head off to work.” He shifts on his feet, this time pointing to you. “And you head back inside, kiddo. Too early for you to be up and movin’.” Of course it is.

You stare at the ground, the pollen and stray leaves below your feet. Finally, you settle on a nod. Shallow and halfhearted, much like his. Your dad, satisfied, retreats back into the garage. You hear the truck engine come to life.

“You heard the man,” Joel says. You tighten your fists, moving to step away, but the way Joel’s eyes glimmer has you loitering. He lowers his voice. “See you soon, daredevil.”

That damned nickname. “How do you know I’ll be back?” you retort under your breath.

He shrugs. “I’m sure there’ll be more… ‘packages’.”

You blame the heat in your body on the rising sun, sweat clinging to the back of your neck as you plod off through the front yard. There’s only one thought in your head as your dad pulls out and you close the garage. Mr. Miller can’t happen again.

Mistake number four: thinking you’re telling the truth.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter 2

(Click here to read chapter 1)

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 2.5K

⛧Summary: As Lucifer's advisor you are required to assist him with a number of things. That includes his schedule, many chores, and the occasional middle of the night panic attack.

⛧Notes: Ask and you shall receive, my dears! You all asked me for a part two so here we go! Keep an eye out for my next fic because its time for some Alastor content! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and she deserve all the rainbows and cupcakes.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic

------------------

As the soft rays of the morning sun seeped through the velvet curtains, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the gentle light. Despite the room still cloaked in soothing darkness, you knew you were in Lucifer's room. It takes you a moment to recall last night's events. You feel his breath on the back of your neck and his arm around your midsection. You can feel your face get hotter with every detail you take in. He is comfortably curled up behind you sound asleep. He needs rest, you’re afraid to move a muscle and wake him. You look over at the clock on the wall, you both are extremely late for breakfast.

“...Shit.” You say under your breath. Lucifer begins to move slightly, he lets out a soft hum and holds you just a bit closer. You can’t tell if he’s awake or not, even though you truly did not want to get out of bed, it had to be done. You slowly sit up and turn around, you almost place your hand on his shoulder but you take a moment to admire his sweet sleeping face. Instead, you gently place your hand on his cheek. Lucifer’s eyes flutter open, he meets your gaze and gives you a sleepy smile.

“Good morning…” He says softly while holding your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek. You wanted to pull away, but his eyes made you want to just crawl back into his arms and go back to sleep.

“G-Good Morning, sir.” You stutter a little, Lucifer’s smile turns into a small smirk, he is amused by how flustered you are. He finally lets go and you try to compose yourself, but it's hard to do so when he looks so cute.

“I’ll go get some coffee, it looks like we slept in.” You finally break the spell he had on you and crawl out of his bed. When you leave, Lucifer immediately misses your presence close to him, having you next to him made a significant difference in his mood and sleep. It was the first time he’d felt the warmth of another person in a long time, and now that he’s had a taste, he wants more.

You head down the hall to your room, when you enter you quickly shut the door, thankful no one saw you. You get dressed in your uniform and head downstairs to the kitchen. While you made coffee, the staff were surprised to see you so late into the morning. You make up a quick excuse, stating you were not feeling well but you’re doing much better now so it's nothing to worry about.

You take two cups of coffee upstairs on a silver tray, and you do your best to mentally shift into work mode, but you can't stop thinking about last night. You return to his room, the king is still in bed, sporting a satisfied look on his face. You hand him his coffee and place the tray on the bedside table. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He says and gestures for you to sit on the bed, so you take your cup from the tray and have a seat.

“I want to apologize.” You start, and he looks at you with a raised brow. “I shouldn't have fallen asleep in your quarters. That was inappropriate of me.”

“I’m gonna stop you there, you do exactly what is asked of you. Everything you do is for my benefit. I could never be upset with you for something like that.” He says with a gentle voice. His gold eyes soften as he realizes you’re being serious.

“Thank you…” You reply, just barely above a whisper. His words made you feel a little better, you only want to do what's best for your king…but sometimes you can get carried away. You would do anything for him, that includes bending the rules.

“Now stop sulking.” He says and crawls over to you, sitting beside you on the bed. He is seated rather close, you look away trying to hide your red face. He turns your face back towards him using his index finger and thumb. “You’re too pretty to be so sad.”

“Y-You forget yourself, sir.” You stutter, barely keeping it together. You finish your coffee and return the cup to the tray. When you stand up and walk towards the wardrobe, Lucifer chuckles at your attempt to remain dignified. He is knocking down walls with the way he speaks to you. Breaking down each professional boundary one at a time. His touch was setting you on fire and you were running out of ways to extinguish it.

You sort through his clothes and pull out a black suit with red and white embellishments. You set it on the corner of the bed like you always do. “I’ll make sure I have your lunch ready for you in your study, sir” You say quickly, with a red blush spread across your face, you take the tray and quickly excuse yourself.

You rush down the hall and back to your room. Your chest heaves and you're out of breath. What in the devil's name happened there?! He looked like he was going to kiss you, his face was so close and he called you pretty! What is this idiot doing? You cover your face with your sleeves and pace back and forth in your room.

You always prided yourself on your composure. You navigate life’s twists and turns with a steady hand and a level head. At first, you brushed off these fluttering feelings as a mere passing fancy. You find yourself in front of a mental crossroads, on one hand, there is the exhilarating rush of new emotions. On the other was fear of rejection, an unconventional relationship, and possible heartbreak. If you ruin what you have with Lucifer, you will end up with nothing. All your years climbing the hierarchy would be null and void.

But what if it was possible? No, it couldn't be, there was just no way. As far as you are aware, you’ve never heard of such a situation that ended well. This can’t possibly be happening, you need some time to sort yourself out. But at some point, you are going to see him again today and you’re not sure how you’ll handle it. You always buried your feelings deep within your heart, locking them away like a precious treasure hidden from prying eyes. You’d like to think you're capable of continuing this facade, but this time you are not so sure.

-----------------

Lucifer sighs as you leave the room, your reactions are rather fascinating though. He gets up and takes his clothes to the bathroom to dress himself. Lucifer is well aware of the power dynamic here, and he has a habit of pushing things as far as he can. It comes with the territory of normally having anything he wants. He buttons his vest and looks at himself in the mirror. So what if he had a thing for his advisor? He wonders if he’s just lonely and that’s why he’s acting this way…even if that was true, it wouldn’t explain the relief he feels every time you enter a room. He puts on his coat, straightens his hat, and leaves his room to spend time in his study. 

He opens the door and notices his lunch is sitting on his desk along with some invoices to sign and an overview of yesterday's meeting. This is unusual, you normally bring him his meal and check in on his daily progress at this time. This is cause for concern, indeed. Was Y/N avoiding him? Surely that can't be true, they would never just ignore him like that. He slumps into his chair, wondering if he messed up somehow. 

Did he ruin the years of trust they had built? He still wants her around, he would hate the idea of anyone else taking your place. The more he thought about it the more the pit in his stomach grew. He attempts to eat but can’t put down much food, his nerves are making it difficult to eat. He needs to find you and apologize, he has to make this right somehow. 

-----------------

Hours go by and you’ve done your best to avoid Lucifer at all costs, but you can't keep this up forever. You are standing on a large balcony in the dining room wearing your pajamas. The sun has set and the stars are visible in the sky, there is a chill in the air. You let out a defeated sigh, you’re going to have to tell him or forget about your feelings completely. You fear that if you confessed your love, the delicate threads that bind you both together would fray and snap. If you forget and try to move on, how bad is it going to hurt when he finds a new love? It would ache so bad you might have to leave his manor entirely, you knew that if that were to happen, it would shatter Lucifer's heart.

You feel a few drops of rain fall on your skin, and as each minute passes the rain becomes heavier and heavier. You look out into the courtyard, it’s getting late and you should be heading inside but you stand there, tears in your eyes. How could you be so foolish and self-centered? You knew the rules and you chose to defy them, it's your own fault you feel so awful.

Suddenly the rain is no longer hitting you, you don't feel the cold drops on your face anymore. You turn around and Lucifer is standing in the doorway, his large wing covers you, shielding you from the rain.

“Hey…Can we talk?” He says with a soft look of concern on his face. You nod while wiping your face with your sleeves, he motions for you to come back inside. He walks slightly ahead of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He opens the door for you and gives you a small half-smile. Lucifer walks over to his desk and pours you both a glass of bourbon. He hands you a glass and you take a seat at the small table next to the window. He sits across from you, you can tell he's a bit anxious because he keeps looking away. You take a sip from your drink, hoping the alcohol will settle your nerves. 

The ambiance of the dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight danced upon his face. With a hesitant breath, Lucifer cleared his throat. 

“I need to apologize to you,” Lucifer says with a despairing look on his face. “I’m sure you’ve felt confused and in distress all day.” He takes a sip of his drink while trying to find the right words. “Before I begin, let me just say that I think so highly of you. Y/N, you’ve been there for me during every awful situation I’ve faced and I am so grateful for you.”

He grabs your hand and his expression changes to a more serious one. “I don't want you to leave my side. I couldn’t bear it if I did something to make you leave.”

“Sir, I–” You try to speak but Lucifer interrupts you.

“Y/N. I need you to drop the formalities for ten minutes, please.” He cuts you off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Is there something going on between us or am I just a lonely, divorced, delusional, man making it all up in my head so I don't feel so shitty about my life?”

You are shocked by his words, you had no idea he felt that way about himself. 

“You’re not delusional, Lucifer.” You answer, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and put them in order. “It's all my fault, really. I guess after all this time I’ve developed some feelings.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, his face softens and he squeezes your hand and you look back into his eyes with a small smile. “I think I just got carried away, I know nothing can happen between us. It would be unacceptable and irredeemable. I’m the delusional one, to think you could ever love someone like me.” You reply while looking down at your drink, your finger toying with the rim of the glass.

Without a word, without warning, Lucifer leaned over the table and grabbed ahold of your shirt. He pulls you close so that you are face to face, leaning over the table. You could feel his breath on your lips as he said, “Love doesn't adhere to rules or expectations, darling. I will choose to defy every convention, every decree if it means I get to spend the rest of my life devoted to someone I love.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, he slowly closed the gap between you both. His lips softly pressed against yours. Time stopped in that moment, amidst the chaos of entangled emotions. The taste was bittersweet, you’ve only ever dreamed of this. His hand lets go of your shirt and caresses your face. You kiss him back with fervor, a silent confession that speaks volumes. Both of you daring to defy the boundaries of monarchy and courtier.

You lace your fingers with his, he stands up and pulls you out of your seat. You practically fell into his arms, Lucifer held the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your waist.

Your tears flowed freely as you hid your face in his chest. He holds you tight, offering you silent comfort as you let out quiet sobs. Lucifer strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize…” He says, barely above a whisper. “Just let me take care of you for once, my love.” Before you can protest, Lucifer scoops you up and gently places you on his bed. He climbs in and pulls the covers over you both. He wipes your tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve and smiles at you while you take the time you need to calm down. 

“C’mon, babe say something…You’re killing me.” He says, waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

“I love you…” You say between staggered breaths. Your eyes are locked on his, somehow Lucifer blows through the many walls you’ve put up to prevent this and you are left bare and vulnerable. It is terrifying, being this helplessly in love. Bearing the fragments of your heart to the person who held it entirely.

“I love you too, dummy.” His smile is sweet like saccharine, his voice is smooth like silk. Your lips met his once more while your fingers card through his hair. He kept you as close as possible, and in the hush of the night amidst the whispered confessions, you and your king curled up together and fell asleep once again in each other's arms. No sovereign, demon or angel could pull you two apart even if they tried. 

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x y/n #hazbin hotel x you

[evie-sturns]

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱 - 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

summary: it's your special day, your 20th birthday! chris hasn't given you a present all day, and nothing seems to be going to plan, but he makes up for it later.

contains: public sex, smut, fluff, soft dom!chris, swearing, crying.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

8:54am

i wake up to chris planting kisses all over my face, a stupid grin painted across his face.

"chriss.." i groan, rubbing my eyes as i sit up in our double bed.

"happy birthday!!" he says, pulling me by my arms up onto the floor, im so unstable i stumble over.

my birthday has always been my favorite day of the year, everyones attention were on me, it was just going to be a stress-free day with my friends, my boyfriend and his brothers.

"shit." chris says, picking me back up, holding me in a bridal position. "you excited!!" he says, placing me back down on my feet

"love you chris." i smile, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling out the outfit ive had planned for days.

ive known chris for 11 years, he was my bestfriend until 1 year ago, when he became my boyfriend.

i strip off my pyjamas, leaving me revealed as i scramble through the shelves to find underwear.

i feel chris's eyes laying on me, "you feel elderly yet?" he says, breaking the comfortable silence.

i scoff "very."

"you look good for how old you are" chris jokes, walking over to my side.

i see his hand reach out, but he pauses instantly when the door rattles. "y/n!" i hear nick call out, i can hear the smile on his face.

"im butt naked right now nick, ill be out in a few!" i call out, chris shakes his head with a grin painted across his face.

"gross." i hear nick say back, slightly quieter this time.

"nick its 9 in the morning what do you take me for!" i say, pulling up my skirt, and readjusting my tanktop. i get on my toes, planting a kiss on chris's nose before unlocking the door.

im met with nick, a bunch of balloons in hand with matt standing next to him. their face light up as they see me.

"you're looking kinda wrinkly.." matt says, pulling me into a hug.

"do i actually look old cause you're the second person to point out my 'aging'" i ask, nick handing me the balloons

-

12:06pm

nick, matt, chris, madi, nate and i have been hanging around the sturniolos house for the day, i've spent the majority of the morning laughing, until a pile of wrapped presents from my friends appears in front of me.

i open them all, thanking whoever gifted it to me with a hug.

chris doesn't give me one though?

i brush it off, maybe he just forgot.

to make things worse, ive just been told madi and nate were both scheduled to leave at 1, both needing to go to nates final ice hockey game, which the sturniolos and i were going to skip.

"oh fuck, we better go madi." nate says, jumping up off the couch and grabbing his keys. madi's sighs before leaning down, squeezing me in a hug. my heart sinks a little, today was meant to be a day with my friends.

"love you y/n, we'll update you about what happens later!" they call out before the door swings shut.

-

ive been sitting on my bed for 2 hours, scrolling aimlessly on my phone as chris sits on the other side of the room at his desk in silence, the faint clicking noise from his keyboard filling the room.

today was meant to be perfect.

i feel my throat dry up as i let out a shaky breath.

ive never cried on my birthday, i've always been too distracted to even think about getting upset, but now, when today has just felt normal, the tears are building up.

i mean, it hasnt been a bad day. its just been too regular.

i feel a few tears fall down my cheeks as i stare at chris's back.

i try my best to stay silent, but a broken sob exits my mouth, i slam a hand over my lips. chris's head snaps back to look at me, his face drops. "oh shit.." chris mumbles before speed-walking over to me, throwing himself down onto the bed to face me.

the tears won't stop now, even with my failed attempts to make excuses up to chris.

"sweetheart please don't cry." chris says softly, holding me in a tight hug as my eyes dampen his shoulder. "talk to me gorgeous, i know you love your birthday you shouldn't be crying yeah?"

"i dont know.." i say in between sobs, chris stays silent, he knows im lying.

"i just wanted it to be perfect.." i sniff, chris rubs my back.

"can i show you something..?" chris says awkwardly, pulling away from the hug. my eyebrows furrow, "okay..?" i say. chris grabs my hands, pulling me up out of bed. he leans down and grabs a sweater from the floor, putting it on my body before taking my hand again.

he walks us downstairs in silence, he seems nervous. chris opens the front door, we walk towards his car and he opens the door to let me in. "ladys first.." he says, trying to lighten the mood.

-

we've been driving for about 3 minutes before chris breaks the silence, "i was meant to take you here later but.. you know." he says, tapping his fingers lightly on the steering wheel.

i nod, chris accelerates slightly as we drive up a hill, we suddenly come to a halt. chris clears his throat, as he turns off the car.

we're parked in a small parking lot on top of a hill, theres trees directly infront of us, the sunset just peeking through the leaves. chris grabs my hand gently, "uh chris?" i ask, he just kisses my lips "shh."

we go through the trees until we they stop, my jaw drops, theres a small picnic blanket, some flowers layed on it along with a note.

its the same spot where me and chris kissed eachother for the first time, 4 years ago.

chris has never been the romantic type, he finds it 'yuck' apparently.

"chris oh my god.." i say, chris is fidgeting with the ties of his sweatpants. i sit down on the picnic blanket, with a groan chris sits down next to me.

"i think this is the sweetest thing anyones done for me.." i say, wrapping my arms around him.

chris shakes his head "shut upp..." he smiles.

"no seriously, i might cry again right now."

"don't you dare." chris says with a small laugh.

a comfortable silence grows between us as the sunsets, i break it after a few minutes.

"we should fuck."

"what?" chris says, his head snapping round to look at me.

"no just think about it, 4 years ago we had our first kiss here, so we should hook up here!" i say, concealing my laugh.

"i meannn whatever you want" chris says, trying not to seem as eager as he actually is.

i pull off my shirt, discarding it on the picnic blanket. theres trees behind us, and a cliff infront of us, its pretty private.

chris helps my shorts off, before laying me down softly on my back, he places his hoodie down under my head as a pillow. "you comfy?" he asks, spreading my legs open wider. i nod, chris pulls down his sweatpants and boxers in one motion, his erection springing out.

he smiles, holding my waist with two hands and lining himself up with me, "ready?" he asks, maintaining eye contact. "very." i smile back.

chris presses his tip inside of me, i stretch around his size, reaching out a hand, chris grabs my it.

he finally pushes the whole way into me, a desperate moan escapes my mouth. "such a pretty noise yeah?" chris says, his voice hoarse as he starts to thrust into me, his tip brushing my cervix each time.

strings of moans and whimpers exit my mouth as i squeeze his hand tighter, chris keeps a firm grip on my waist. "so so good for me, squeezing my dick so well." chris groans.

with each thrust, the knot in my stomach becomes tighter, i arch my back off the picnic blanket, "fuck chris oh my god." i yell, "cum for me gorgeous, can feel you clenching..." he says, stumbling over his words.

with a scream of his name the knot in my stomach snaps, chris pulls out, painting my stomach with white streaks. "g-..good girl." chris says, flopping down next to me on the blanket.

-

we've been laying here for the past hour, laughing, talking and watching the moon. the summer air is warm on my bare body, we both couldnt be bothered to get changed just yet.

"you know.." chris says, running a hand through his hair.

"hm?" i ask, looking over to see his face, which is barely illuminated.

"we should make this a traditon, ya know? birthday sex."

---------------------------------———————————-

i really liked writing this, thank you for the request babe

#sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

[msafterhours]

Saccharine | Act Two

Male Reader x (G)I-DLE Yuqi

[Act 1] Act 2 (~14.7k words) [Act 3]

Note: this is not intended as a standalone story. If you haven’t already read Act One, I’d highly recommend doing so before reading further so that you don’t miss out on important context.

As the dawn of the final day of 2021 breaks over the horizon, you finish acquiring the answer to your earlier inquiry. Apparently, nothing awaits, as for the first time in a long while, swaths of darkness have been painted over your hours of slumber. It’s been a stark contrast, even compared to the mundane manifestations that have previously filled insignificant periods. Especially for a mind as active as yours, it’s become an unwelcome disruption to your expected existence, plunging you into a deep fatigue that you’ve been unable to shake. And to top it all off, another disruption awaits you upon awakening—this time landing squarely in your inbox.

ASong4You: I’m going to be with Soyeon the whole broadcast, so if we’re going to meet up again, it’ll have to be at or after the afterparty ASong4You: Should I look for you somewhere?

For as much as she dislikes being called cute, it’s honestly adorable how straight she’s playing this. As if it’s completely normal to have someone make you see stars upon the first time meeting them in person. But the truth of how rattled she is reveals itself in the vulnerability she’s exposed. So, you might as well pretend to play along. Somewhat.

TurnThePage: Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s easy to find me at the afterparty TurnThePage: We’ll see how it goes from there

The read notification acts as enough of a response for you, and you close the app. Until a realization hits and you reopen it.

TurnThePage: Also bring me my fucking scarf

You see another read receipt and the beginnings of a message, but then, a pause. You immediately know; you can hear the laughter she’s undoubtedly doubled over with—the memory echoing in your mind clearer than the chirps of the birds outside your window.

ASong4You: Fuck no, this thing’s comfy as hell TurnThePage: THAT’S THE POINT ASong4You: Alright fine, but only if you ask nicely

You nearly do as she asks, but pride jumps in front of the word “please” in your mental dictionary and refuses to allow you access. So—just like you’ve always done—you pivot.

TurnThePage: What if I come gift wrapped with a little bow on top

This time, the memory echoes resonate through your mind long before your phone vibrates with a response. The clarity is borderline concerning, but you cast it aside as you return to her response.

ASong4You: Then you just might get me to do as you ask TurnThePage: I still don’t get why I have to do something to get my stuff back ASong4You: To be fair you never had to give me it in the first place TurnThePage: To be fair, they’re still there, aren’t they?

Read? Yes.

Replied to? Of course not. All you’re left with is a protracted silence that paints a picture worth a thousand words.

TurnThePage: You know what, maybe just keep it for now TurnThePage: You never know when you might need it, especially at this time of year … ASong4You: I swear to god I’m going to give you bruises that’ll make mine look like fingerprints in comparison TurnThePage: Wouldn’t want it any other way.

What a way to start the morning. Your routine passes by in a flash, leaving you facing a familiar screen and the unfamiliar dilemma of what to do with a few hours of free time. Your mind casts itself back to her earlier statement and her plans for the day, inspiring an idea that influences your plans for its remainder. While you may have professional obligations at this event, there’s no reason you can’t benefit from some personal profits along the way. So, you send a few quick emails that net quicker responses, and from there, you’re off to the races. You stockpile a selection of questions, feebly attempting to justify this personal project’s importance, and, a few hours later, you leave. Well ahead of schedule; just in case.

You arrive alone, head held high as you greet the familiar security staff who wave you right on by. This time, you're more selective in your choice of targets—more specific in the questions you ask them. You keep the conversations short, just barely long enough to glean the necessary information without claiming a spot amongst their memories of the night. No more than an hour passes before you know exactly where every performer will be and when they'll be there, affording you clarity on where you want to be and where you need to avoid.

Your efficiency is quickly rewarded as once again, even though you have hours until the broadcast goes live, the performers begin arriving in droves. With your opportunity fast approaching, you tap into the vast repository of knowledge you’ve gleaned over the past couple of years and make a few stops along the way towards your destination. Once your hands are full of items that you know idols tend to request during waiting periods—water, fans, phone chargers, etc.—you step into the waiting room reserved for an absolute all-star lineup of idols tonight.

One by one by two by one they arrive until ultimately you’re flanked by five. Some of the hottest faces in the industry—figuratively and literally—sit around the table with you, shining brighter than spotlights as you all share war stories and discuss the year in retrospect. Hwang Yeji, leader of ITZY, is happy to share about her members’ Christmas craziness and her own ambitious New Year’s resolutions. Kim Minju, Music Core host and alleged actress, shares about her particular difficulty facing the struggles that all the IZ*ONE members must be feeling post disbandment. An Yujin and Jang Wonyoung, maknaes of the aforementioned group and mega stars of their new one IVE, provide their own insights on the struggles and successes of the past year of their lives. But it’s the sixth member of the conversation you have the most questions for. Because Cho Miyeon is the one who sits alongside you as you ask her question after question about the time spent since she last stood under the spotlight seven months ago.

Under this pretense of an interview—some project about this year being the liberation from lockdowns and what it means to those with fans around the world—you foster familiarity and fondness in the hearts of these fellow aspirants, these industry peers that a fool might allow themselves to call “friends”. Your initial questions are precise, measured, and specifically aimed towards achieving one goal in particular: endearing yourself to the ally of your enemy before your date with the devil. Even as the performers come and go, changing outfits and patiently sitting until their perfect faces are painted enough to be “presentable”, you keep the conversation alive. At first, you keep the flame lit with convenient kindling, sharing stories you’ll happily let leave this room and asking questions you prepared well in advance. However, the group’s congregation precedes two hours of waiting for the broadcast to begin—and that’s not even mentioning the two or so more that’ll pass before they’re scheduled to go on stage. In an effort to hold back the darkness, your stories become less selective and secrets begin to slip past your lips amidst the sea of words pouring out from all involved. You respond to a question about how you choose the topics to write about, then add on an explanation of how you choose what not to write. From there, the conversation shifts, and Yeji ends up sharing a dream that’s been haunting her—one about love and loss and the end of life. You share your sympathies and nearly get far more specific about your own experiences before you catch yourself and course correct, leading the conversation elsewhere. The IVE duo puts forth quite the interesting tale of adapting to dorm life with their new quartet of members and the difficulties of rewriting their tendencies from living with the IZ*ONE members. Once again, you share a similar story and then a bit more, telling of your own shock when your editor had recently been fired and the difficulties of finding a suitable replacement. Not every thread of conversation ends up involving you, but many do, leaving you with an ever-shrinking suite of “safe” stories to share. It truly is a lovely interview. It's also the least important reason you're there.

You’re fascinated by how the conversation ebbs and flows, especially as Yeji leaves for her group’s performance and the IVE duo departs twice to do the same. It leaves you with further opportunity to inject a deeper sense of intimacy into the conversation, inviting the others to join you in confiding your concerns. Minju seems all too happy to oblige in one such moment, divulging to you and Miyeon the depths of her fears of irrelevancy in an industry so cutthroat—especially with a future so unclear. Before you can even begin to offer a response, Miyeon—someone who’s had no need to initiate a conversation due to the frequency of questions directed towards her—speaks up, sharing her own struggles in the aftermath of Soojin’s departure. You offer her the respect of absolute silence as she reassures Minju, revealing the significance of the impact losing only a single member had on her and empathizing with Minju’s struggles in facing a similar feeling but with such greater magnitude. It strikes you suddenly how precarious the platform of popularity must be for these rising stars to feel such fear in the face of the unknowns awaiting them on the other side of midnight. Once the magnitude of the moment has lessened, you offer what empty empathy you can before deciding on a more tangible course of action: deleting the recording, erasing the entirety of three hours of a potential transcript in an attempt to protect their privacy. Both immediately offer their genuine gratitude as they look to you with shock clearly visible in their eyes, refusing to allow you to diminish the significance even as you put forth a paltry attempt to brush it off with a claim that you can use some old recordings or something. Eventually, you all drop it and move on, even if they don’t share your reason for doing so. They never realize why you’re so willing to lie, why you couldn’t care less about the recording. Only you truly know that you’ll never be able to forget this conversation.

In hindsight, you'll find it funny how everything unfolded. Coming in, you intended to be memorable. You wanted to be likable. You needed Miyeon to smile upon hearing your name. In all aspects of your planning, you succeeded. You just never accounted for the effect she'd have on you.

The missing trio returns shortly after, and the conversation thankfully returns fully to simpler topics, allowing you a brief respite. You can’t help but let your posture slip as well, resting your head on the back of the couch as your body slumps to the side. It isn’t until you feel the couch shift slightly that you realize you’ve halved the distance between you and Miyeon, who seems to adjust her own position on the couch. But she doesn’t pull away. She moves closer … just slightly. Not enough to close the gap, but enough to tease the possibility. Even for you, someone so perfect at performing the part you need to play, it’s enticing—even more so when considering the events of the past week. With your current position atop the peak of anticipation, a strong breeze could be more than enough to unseat you, and instead there’s a raging storm of possibility seated less than a meter away from you, demanding you detour away from your current path. Somehow, you manage to resist your urges, reminding yourself you’ve come too far to divert from the opportunity at the end of the tunnel. As tempting of an unknown as Miyeon might be, you know you’ll never forgive yourself if you miss out on the opportunity to know her.

What is it about her that leaves you desperately investing time and effort into figuring it out?

How does she seem to have the most specific comments at the most opportune times?

Why the fuck is Song Yuqi the reason you can’t sleep at night?

Regardless, it ultimately matters little, as it’s minutes later when you rejoin the conversation and less than an hour before the quintet is called to get ready to perform. You stand as well, offering them thanks for their time and well-wishes for their performance before mirroring their hopes to see each other at the afterparty. Miyeon is the last to leave, reaching back to close the door and holding your eyes for two moments longer than you’d expect before shutting it and leaving you alone.

-x-

Roughly ten minutes later, their performance comes on the broadcast and you enjoy the f(x) homage before quickly tuning out upon its conclusion. With another two hours to go before the broadcast’s end and the subsequent mass exodus to the hotel hosting the afterparty, you concede to your fatigue and decide to rest your eyes. One set alarm later, the world around you fades and you drift off into the darkness. Upon your arrival in dreamland, you’re surprised at the darkness’ refusal to disperse, leaving you blind within an expanse of eruptions. On one side of you, you can hear the crashing of lightning as a thunderstorm rains down its wrath, while on the other, you can hear the crackle of flame as it spreads and ignites vast swathes of this obscured landscape. No matter where you try to look or turn, the dueling elements match your movements, perfectly mirroring one another as they come ever closer. Just as you’re about to melt under their might, you are quite literally saved by the bell as your alarm clock rouses you back into reality.

Only five minutes of the broadcast before the real party starts. Literally. You stand, stretch, then step out of the room riddled with remnants of secrets shared over the past six or so hours. Within the halls of the venue, you can hear the voices of the groups as they sing their final performance of 2021, leaving you alone among the staff and solo performers. Solo performers like Miyeon, whose gaze immediately captivates you as she confidently closes the distance.

“Hey you. How’s it going?”

“Doing good, kinda just still getting my bearings after waking up,” you answer, intentionally letting a yawn escape to sell the point. “What about you?”

“Well, I was looking for Soyeon, but I think my other members might have left a long time ago. Maybe I’ll see them at the afterparty but … wait, did you say waking up? What have you been doing for the past two hours?” Miyeon asks, jealousy spreading across her face as she arches a judgemental eyebrow.

You put forth your best sheepish expression as you explain, “Ah, gotcha. But, uh, yeah … I watched your performance—you were amazing by the way—and then decided to take a nap. It’s been a long day, so catching up for a couple of hours was very helpful.”

Miyeon’s eyes roll and arms cross as she scoffs, “Lucky you, I’m still exhausted!”

“I mean, I’ve heard caffeine can’t fix everything,” you say, teeing up your suggestion as you capture her eyes once more. “But it’s definitely worth a shot.”

“Or two,” she immediately adds, smiling in a way you can’t help but mirror. “You think anywhere’s going to be open tonight?”

“Speaking as a self-aware coffee addict myself,” you dramatically declare. “I’m absolutely sure someone was smart enough to stay open and cater to those in desperate need.”

You feel the corners of your lips climb up your cheeks as her eyes light up, brighter than a flash of lightning as she responds, “God, I hope you’re right! Then let’s go; you want a ride?”

“Of course, after you! We’ve been here for far too long.”

Your conversation from before resumes seamlessly, allowing you to speculate with her about the inevitable insanity that’s sure to define the upcoming countdown. From within the tinted windows of the company car you can see the last nightfall of 2021, a year you’ll define by shadows and the lights that cast them. It’s borderline hilarious how backwards this entire year has seemed, with your capitalization on lockdowns leading to terminally online fans thrusting you into the spotlight while (G)I-DLE’s scandal forced them to take a step back into the darkness. Some might take this opportunity to reflect, maybe even celebrate their growth and accomplishments; you know, ask the world to give them their flowers or something. Not you. You’d rather guarantee tomorrow’s bloom by spending today sowing seeds. So, you make absolutely sure to get Miyeon’s drink order right before you run inside and order the trio of drinks. One for you, one for Miyeon, and one for her manager. Just in case, because you’ll never know when you’ll need to cash in on the priceless value of a good word.

Later—a week, month, year from now—you won’t remember the words shared in the back seat of the car chauffeuring you to the hotel. Some matter, more than usual, but none of them resonate soundly enough to derail the train of thought chugging along through your mind: why does Miyeon, this wonderful girl who smells faintly of roses and whose cheeks get rosy pink near the end of her drink, tolerate her transgressions? You want nothing more than to ask, but you keep your cards close to your chest, knowing that now isn’t the time to reveal your hand. You’ve come too far to risk going all in now.

You need not test your patience for long, for shortly after your brief diversion, you hit a cluster of traffic outside the hotel—an impeccable indicator of your intended timing. Even from a distance, you can see the ever-shifting stream of stars shuffling into the hotel’s lobby, where you’re sure that a whole galaxy of partygoers awaits within. Almost immediately, you shift the conversation towards the delicacies on display, getting Miyeon’s perspective on her peers and their approach to parties. On one hand, it’s fascinating getting insights directly from someone within the ecosystem rather than interpreting the ripples that reach the edges of the pond. On the other, it creates the exact kind of conversation you’d hoped to inspire—a cautious yet fervent discussion of many of the quiet things everyone’s dying to say aloud. And with a significant number of idols across a multitude of generations congregating in the area, you have plenty of kindling to keep the passionate conversation ablaze, all the way through the line of cars and even up to the entrance itself.

You arrive together, head down slightly as you whisper back and forth with Miyeon, continuing your soft scrutiny of the other arrivals. Once inside, even though there’s a sea of individuals milling about, your eyes immediately find your intended target. Near one of the back left doors out of the main hall stands the only person who matters—a short little blonde wearing a cute black dress and an expression so shocked you’re surprised the whole building hasn’t short circuited. You find satisfaction in the surprise in her eyes as she desperately attempts to process your arrival. In that stunned countenance, in the vulnerability visible, you find your victory. You find the moment you’ve dedicated the entire final day of the year to. Now to find a drink.

After bidding Miyeon a fond farewell and wishing her luck in finding her other group members, you take your leave and begin wading through the crowd, intent on reaching a high-visibility area. You can't even make it over to the punch table before her hand is clasped around your throat.

No words are spoken. None are necessary. You knew the implication of your actions. You knew full well the exact contents of the message you'd send by arriving with another member of her group. And as you look down at her, you're met by the fire in her eyes burning bright blue, hotter than you've ever seen. Her seething expression presents a question. Your shameless smile presents your own. Somewhere along this charged connection between you two, a spark ignites the fuse. There's no backing out now.

It's only a matter of time before you two burn this whole damned building to the ground.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” you say, as if this whole situation were the most casual thing in the world.

“Just for once, won’t you fucking listen?” she asks, pulling her hand away and balling it into a fist as her voice drops dangerously low. “I know you think you have your reasons for hating me and I’ll even concede that some of them might be valid, but you have no reason to hurt her or any of my friends. So fuck off.”

You don't offer a response—at least not directly. You brush past her, gesturing for her to follow as you make your way towards your original destination: the bar and, most importantly, away from the center of the crowd.

Your tone is hushed as you speak, drawing her closer to you. It’s not a visual you’re especially fond of, but a necessary sacrifice in the name of privacy. “I’m not gonna stand here and lie to you by saying that my reasons for talking with Miyeon are entirely altruistic,” you concede, pausing for a moment as you smile at the bartender and give him your order. “But I am speaking the truth when I say I have no intentions of letting her get caught in the crossfire. Unlike some, I’m considerate enough to keep innocents from getting involved.”

You turn back and witness her reaction, drinking in the delicious disbelief as she declares, “How dare you! I give everything to make sure they’re not affected by my actions!”

Someone else might have believed her, but you know better. “What about the audio tech you punched while filming with your members?”

You find another flash of vulnerability in her eyes, but in a blink, it disappears, hidden behind her defenses. “That was the third shoot in a row he’d made a mistake and clearly he wasn’t listening to the previous warnings!”

“And the outfit you ripped in half mere hours before performing?” you ask, taking your drink from the bartender and sliding him a fair bit more than its cost. You give him a certain type of smile and he nods in recognition, swearing silence and allowing you to dedicate the entirety of your attention to the interrogation at hand as you resume walking towards the fringes of the lobby.

“The stylist showed up hungover with multiple botched outfits for our first ever awards show!” she fires back as she follows close behind.

Another sip. Another step. Anything to create some semblance of distance away from the crowd. “And the CUBE employee guidelines? The list of rules that every new hire needs to know in order to protect themselves from you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she huffs, but the sudden hurt in her eyes reveals the truth behind her lies.

“Alright, I’m sure you have plenty of excuses ready, but I think you’re intentionally avoiding the obvious question,” you say, stretching out the silence with another slow swig from the glass as you continue to walk. “Don’t you think that the best way to protect your friends from collateral damage is by not causing it in the first place?”

Her eyes avert once more, refusing to acknowledge you or the truth. “It’s not that simple. Just—god fucking damnit—please don’t rope her into this. I don’t know who’s told you those stories or what they’ve told you, but …”

She trails off suddenly, cut short by the singsong sounds of a familiar friend’s words on the wind. For once, you have no trouble finding her eyes as both of you tense upon hearing Miyeon’s voice in the crowd, moving in your direction.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I know that she’s looking for you, so—”

“I’m not done with you yet.” Her voice cuts in, ending your sentence as her eyes sweep across the room, scouring the sea of stars as she searches for the voice in question. “You’re coming with me—I’ve been here before and I know somewhere private we can finish this conversation.”

You raise your hands in mock surrender, smiling wide as you respond, “Very well, princess. Lead the way.”

“Do not fucking call me that,” she growls, grabbing your arm and all but dragging you towards a pair of nondescript doors amongst many others decorating the wall. Her surprising strength aside, you’re happy to oblige, following in her footsteps as the proximity lets you catch a whiff of something unfamiliar on the lips you’d so closely acquainted yourself with. With a sudden realization, you receive an unspoken answer to the question of what she’d been doing prior to your arrival; you discover what’s fueling the fire behind her eyes. You realize that she’s running on liquid courage as she quietly opens the door and pushes you inside. All the bright lights fade as she slips past and the door closes behind you, plunging you both into darkness.

Your mind’s still working in overdrive as you stand in the darkness, but as you place your drink down and break the silence, you can’t help but test just how long her fuse truly is. “Really, a supply closet? Could you get more cliché?”.

Even before she turns on the light—even before she turns and you see the fire in her eyes—you know your words have acted as a final spark just based on her posture alone. Because she does turn on the light and she does turn to face you. But she doesn’t look at you the same way. You’re no longer the threat you might have been ten minutes ago. No, when she looks at you now, she wears the cruel confidence of a huntress ready to strike. Guess who that leaves to play the part of the prey.

“Here’s the fucking problem.” A single step forward, shortening the gap between you two. “You have so much shit to answer for …” Another, and she’s halfway to you. “But I’m so fucking sick of hearing you talk.” Once more, and you have to hold your breath to keep from fanning the flames of the inferno looking up at you. “So I’m gonna make you forget every sob story you’ve heard about me.” She continues, pushing her body against yours until you’re backed up against the wall. “Because I’m not the Disney villain they make me out to be …” Her hand wraps around the back of your head, pulling you close as she whispers in your ear, “I’m so much fucking worse.”

Her fangs flash for a moment before plunging into the side of your neck, nearly piercing your flesh as she hungrily sucks at your skin. Immediately, your hands latch onto her sides, desperate for any semblance of a tether to reality as your adrenaline skyrockets and your head spins. You try to snake a hand up her shirt—try to find some possibility of going on the offensive—but she immediately pounces, smacking it away as her own hands start exploring.

“Oh, not so tough now that I’ve got you right where I want you, hm?” she taunts, denying your ability to catch your breath or muster a response as she crashes her lips against yours. It’s so unlike you to be caught without an answer—so unlike you to be the one without a plan. Last time, things were under your control, but this time, any inhibitions you might have expected her to carry seem to have been left at the door. This time, she’s the one with hands up your shirt, scratching and clawing and exploring every centimeter of the chest that contains your pounding heart. Your hands shift down, finding a perfect fit as you cup the curve of her ass and lean into the kiss. The sweetness of cherry clashes with the familiar burn of hard liquor, adding to the endless list of sensations vying for your attention.

Your eyes finally snap open as her lips unlatch from yours and her hands pull away, allowing you the briefest of moments to inhale some much-needed oxygen. Even in her silence, you feel her emotions emanating throughout the room. Temptation. Jubilation. Vexation. Exhilaration. Oh, and lust. So much fucking lust. All it takes is the tiniest raise of her eyebrows and a hint of a smirk to fuel the flames as she sinks to her knees. There’s a dark edge to her words as her eyeline meets your beltline and she chuckles, “Wow … looks like someone’s excited to see me.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh of your own as you wonder how you’ve let things get this far. It’s you. It’s her. It’s the fact that you’re about to do this in a fucking storage closet of all places. The fact that you managed to survive meeting her and still came back for more. None of the choices that’ve led you to this moment have been correct, but you’re already flying Bad Decision Airlines, so why not fly first class? “Aren’t there more important things that mouth should be doing?”

Her eyes roll with the poise of a practiced gymnast as she deftly unbuckles your belt and unbuttons the top of your slacks. The ungodly glint in her eyes gleams once more as she leans forward and captures the zipper between her teeth, dragging it down as she looks up at you with wicked intent. Go ahead, you hear through unspoken words. Keep pretending like you’re in control—like you’re not putty in my hands.

Your pants hit the floor, and you’re concerningly convinced that your pride’s soon to follow. Her hands glide up your legs, ghosting over your calves and teasing your thighs before snaking their way inside the underwear your cock has been straining against since you first laid eyes on her. Immediately upon contact, you can’t help but shiver. Not because of the cold—that’d be impossible with this much heat in the room. It’s the culmination of the anticipation that’s been building within you all week, no, for months now. If not longer. … Definitely longer.

And it’s all been leading up to this: your cock pulsing with anticipation as she drags your underwear down and takes it in her hands, letting her warm breath wash over it as her tongue runs over her lips and she reaches out to—

You both freeze, locking eyes. She sees the conflict in your eyes. You see the concern in hers. You both stop—separating as she rises from the ground and you get dressed in a hurry—because you both heard the same songbird from before, this time singing your name as she searches through the crowd.

“What. The. Fuck.” Her not-quite-question hangs in the air, acting as accusation, bewilderment, chagrin, distrust—nearly a whole alphabet of bad vibes—all at once.

You raise your hands in the air, attempting to act innocent for once. “Hey, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Obviously, that’s a lie and it slips seamlessly off your tongue. “I had no ill intentions when getting to know Miyeon better and growing our professional friendship.” That’s a lie too. “I was genuinely enjoying talking with her.” That one … isn’t?

Ultimately, her skepticism never leaves, but she forces herself to do so. After taking a quick peek out of the door, she slips out, rejoining the ever-shifting mess of a crowd that continues to speak so many words while saying so little.

-x-

Shortly after—specifically after finishing your drink—you do the same, sneaking out and finally joining the New Year’s Eve party in earnest. You rub shoulders with a couple managers, compliment the dress of a soloist, and even round out the numbers for one group’s drinking game.

Once you finally step back and return to the periphery to get a refill, you get a wonderful view of the lobby and the celebration of the industry you’ve spent the past four years trying to conquer. Surface level analysis would likely call it beautiful; those with a bit more insight might point out the darker components that keep the machine running smoothly. But as entrenched as you are, you know the truth can be found somewhere between the two extremes. Nights like tonight, where the honest truths spoken earlier drown out the honeyed lies you hear all around you, remind you that the pressure exerted by the spotlight on these young stars surrounding you can produce truly resplendent diamonds. And looking out across the floor, it brings a smile to your face to see so many shining so brightly.

It’s just such a fucking shame that leverage is only found in the darkest rooms of the penthouse suite. As much as you’d like to linger on the line of thought, a familiar flash of brilliant blonde in the corner of your eye cuts it short. A quick glance confirms your suspicions: it’s a bad idea led by the best of intentions.

“Hey, you,” a bubbly voice calls to you.

“Oh, hey Miyeon,” you say, allowing the warm smile to naturally develop even as you struggle to silence your internal screaming. “How're you?”

“I'm good, glad I finally found you!” she exclaims, shining brightly as ever. “What’ve you been up to, enjoying the party so far?”

“Oh, you know. Mostly just making the rounds, getting to know people better. Listening to their jokes, laughing at most of them while finding few of them funny,” you say, sharing a shocking number of words for them all to be true. “What about you?”

“I found my pseudo-siblings! It’s always nice to catch up with Sana and Jiwon, especially since it’s been a little while since a big in-person event like this has happened,” Miyeon explains, smile unwavering even as you see her mind cast back to the past two years. “But all that aside, I wanted to introduce you to my groupmate and very close friend, Yuqi.”

Your eyes lock. Your breath catches as your throat dries up. Somewhere in the background, the music shifts to a slower song and you can even swear that the lighting changes slightly, casting a golden glow on her face. Maybe it’s all just your imagination.

What’s undeniably real is the smirk she wears so well, silently presenting you with a question even as the arch of your eyebrow presents your own. For once, she drapes herself in shockingly steady confidence, causing you to almost feel proud of how well she’s hiding the shared history between you two. This time she’s the one who shatters the brief silence, bowing slightly as she says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard nothing but good things.”

You mirror her bow, painting on your own smile as you respond, “The pleasure’s all mine; I’ve heard so much about you too. How’ve you been enjoying the party so far?”

You watch as her smirk widens, showing hints of the predatory smile she wore not too long ago. There’s no stopping your own expression as it morphs to mirror hers. Both of you know full well how much danger you’re putting yourselves in—how little subtlety there is to the game you’re playing. Each of you toes the line of letting slip your little secret, but neither of you seems to care. Instead, she simply says, “Oh, it’s been fine so far. Uneventful compared to what’s coming.”

“Indeed,” you volley back. “This is my first time at one of these New Year’s parties. Do you know if there’s usually a big event around midnight?”

“Isn’t there always?” Yuqi asks, chuckling incredulously as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Some people definitely stick around for the countdown,” Miyeon explains, her smile warm and welcoming.

“And the others?” you ask, clearly offering the bait for Yuqi to pounce on if she so desires. But she’s not the one to do so.

“There’s a reason the invitations suggested booking a room in advance,” Miyeon adds, allowing the implication to hang in the air as hints of humor find a home in her smile.

“Then I should be glad I’m so good at following directions,” you jest, refusing to grant Yuqi the satisfaction of allowing her to stare into your soul as you hold Miyeon’s gaze.

“Indeed,” you hear Yuqi growl from behind surely gritted teeth. “It’s so nice to come to one of these parties and not have to worry about unexpected circumstances.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you begin, finally flashing a genuine smile in her direction. “But what better time to have fun than tonight?”

“Fun?” she echoes, ghosts of a smile teasing the corners of her lips as her competitive spirit rises once more. It’s impossible to miss the unspoken challenge in her words; she’s daring you to define your definition of fun, like she’s dying to know if it matches hers.

"Isn't that what these parties are about?" you reply evenly, ever the professional. "A chance to let loose without the scrutiny of the public eye."

Her laugh is hollow and haughty as she shakes her head, seemingly in disbelief at your response. “You’ve clearly never been to one of these parties before.”

“Even the tiniest of leaks is too much of a risk for everyone here,” Miyeon explains amiably. “Too much to lose, nowhere near enough to gain.”

“At least not on this floor,” you add, allowing the unspoken words to speak volumes as you raise your glass for a toast.

This time, the humor reaches Yuqi’s eyes as her icy demeanor begins to thaw. “Now you’re getting it.”

With a clink of your glasses, the conversation shifts, weaving its way from topic to topic as the three of you discuss the cities you most want to visit, music of all languages, first impressions, and so, so much more. Expectations be damned, it isn’t anywhere near the clusterfuck you’d feared it’d be—if anything, it’s nothing short of really fucking fun. The chemistry you three share is vivid without straying into volatility, and as much as you hate to admit it, the conversation is at its most vivacious during the interactions between yourself and Yuqi. You, for once, hold nothing back: sharing stories freely and firing off joke after joke without a second thought. Miyeon acts flawlessly as the bridge between you two—quietly contributing to most of the conversation yet eager to jump in on a topic she’s excited about—acting as the light that allows your duet to shine. That, of course, leaves Yuqi as your partner in this performance, but not the Yuqi you’ve come to know. She seems different in this environment—less ferocity, more sincerity. As much as each of you still has a part to play, the lack of tension makes her all the more enthralling, drawing you in as her genuine laughter slices through the intoxicating haze permeating the party. But the shocks don’t end there.

The first time Yuqi tells a joke, you’re caught so off-guard that you can’t help but burst into laughter. The second time, you’re more prepared, yet you’re still left in stitches. And the third—where you end up saying the punchline in unison with her—strikes all of you out. Tears form in the corner of your eyes and stream down the faces of the other two, leaving you all gasping for air even as you laugh so hard it hurts. As you regain your composure, you look through blurry eyes and catch a flash of something in Miyeon’s expression. It’s hard to pin down—a quirk of the mouth or a twitch of the nose—but there’s something hidden somewhere under her radiance that you fear is recognition. It certainly doesn’t help when she excuses herself for a moment, leaving you and Yuqi alone as she goes to refill her drink.

“I never would have thought you’d be a fan of the NBA,” you admit, turning and meeting her eyes with ease.

“Funny you should say that. I’d never have imagined you’d be someone who loves hot pot too! There’s this place in Beijing that’s to die for; you’ll have to try it sometime,” she says with an effortless smile. On instinct, you smile back, but just like that—a single mention of China—and you’re back in the real world.

The one where her vile actions are afterthoughts and her victims’ faces are forgotten. “Maybe I’ll have to go there next time I’m in the country,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly as you struggle to quell the surging storm.

The one where she’s been invited to these kinds of parties from day one while your invitation has been four years in the making. Her eyes twinkle excitedly as she asks, “Oh, have you visited before?”

The one where she seems incapable of losing while even a chance of victory costs you everything. “Twice, actually,” you explain, sighing deeply. “Once to Beijing, and once to Hangzhou.”

The one where she’s gotten under your skin, leaving you defenseless as she holds a gun to your heart. “Sounds like some bad memories,” she comments, a combination of curiosity and concern across her countenance as she refuses to let your gaze escape hers.

The one where you’ll do anything to hide the shameful fact that you wanted nothing more than to exactly what she wanted and scream her name that night in Hangzhou. So, you make sure she’ll forget you ever mentioned it. “Well, the last time I was in Beijing was almost four years ago, when someone spent well over ten minutes verbally assaulting a poor production assistant. So there’s that.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you can feel their edge sever any connection that’d been built up over the course of the previous conversation. Her casual posture is cast aside as recognition and resentment both register, leaving only a smothering silence in the space between you two. Those eyes—sparkling just a moment ago with genuine interest—harden into smoky quartz. The edges of her lips thin and tighten, the earlier cheer fading into a cold, impassive line.

"You're judging me for something that happened four years ago?" she counters, voice low and coated in disbelief. “Most people would have forgotten something like that by now.”

“Most people don’t have the petrified visage of a poor stylist recounting your misdeeds burned into their memory.”

“Is that so?” she deadpans. “Tell me, was it Xuě? Lìlì? Who told you that story?” You meet her questions with silence, and she immediately pounces on the opportunity to continue on. “You don’t even know. You’re desperately clinging to a long dead justification and attempting to bring me down alongside it.”

Your blood returns to a familiar boil—the type only she can bring out of you—as you respond, “My sincerest apologies for the lapse in memory, but who are you to speak of justifications? The reason I can’t remember her name is because I was too stunned by the vitriol you were screaming into some poor man’s ear one room away from me!”

“He’d sabotaged my schedule, trying to make me miss an evaluation just before the final lineup was decided! He was trying to ruin my career!” Her reply climbs in volume, threatening to draw the attention of everyone in the vicinity as your tempers begin to flare and clash against one another once more.

“And why do you think he wanted to see you fail?” you ask, whispered words slipping out in a single breath. From your lips, a question. To her ears, an accusation. In both your minds, you know full well that the only part that matters is that it’s the beginning of an impasse. So now, you’re both stuck staring, waiting for the other to make the first move.

You just happen to be the first to do so. “We need to stop this; we’re getting nowhere, and we’re never going to get anywhere,” you say, exerting tremendous effort to keep your voice steady even as the pounding headache threatens your rhythm. “At least not on this floor.”

The look she gives you is incredulous, but you know her too well to miss the signs of intrigue hidden just beneath her mask. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“We’re both staying here, right?” you ask, pausing for a moment and earning a nod of confirmation. “Then we have a chance to truly make tonight memorable … maybe even have some fun along the way.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” she says aloud, but her eyes silently plead for you to continue.

Your smile stretches wide as the words tumble past your lips, uncontrollable and dangerous as your mouth moves faster than your mind. “I think you will. I’ll message you my room number and we’ll go our separate ways—you can tell Miyeon that I was too tired to stay or something. You’re welcome to visit my room at any time, but if you decide not to, we’ll both have a quiet New Year’s Eve.”

“That isn’t much of a game,” she says, eyes narrowing in anticipation. “There’s a catch, isn’t there? There always is with you.”

“Of course, why play without stakes?” you confirm, laughing hollowly as you continue to dig your own grave. You’re too far in at this point—too invested in the lie to let it slide now. The game you two have played has always been dangerous, but now, with your pride on the line, you’ll accept nothing but a victory. You can’t lose to her. “I know that you’re coming back with a new album soon. If you manage to make it to midnight—if you win—I’ll make sure you shine brightest in the most glowing review I’ll ever write. And that’ll be it. We’ll both leave this hotel tomorrow and go back to our normal lives, pretending that none of this ever happened.”

“And if I don’t?” she asks, trying her best to remain calm.

She’s always brought out the worst in you. “Then you’ll come to my room and we’ll finally finish what we’ve been building up to for months.” It’s about time you showed it. “But I’ll write an article dragging the whole fucking group through the mud in the harshest condemnation you’ve ever seen, and the only consolation you’ll have is that only you and I will know it’s all your fault.”

“You wouldn’t,” she immediately retorts, but one look at the unhinged dance of flames in your eyes and she knows better than to test your resolve. “Fuck. You would. You absolutely fucking would. Why are you like this?”

It takes you a moment to gather your strength, but you reach deep into your bag of tricks and pull out a neglected yet powerful weapon: the truth. “Because I’m tired of seeing you escape the consequences of your actions. I want to see you make a decision that matters for once. And honestly, I’m just curious if you’re going to be able to sleep at night knowing you missed the chance for me to make all your dreams come true.”

You see hints of the ghost of her competitive spirit once more in her eyes, but it remains mostly hidden, obscured by the smolders left in the wake of the fire that burned so bright. “Yeah? My dreams are pretty hot.”

“Yeah? Mine too,” you fire back a moment later than you should, seriously unnerved once again by the specificity of her words. “Seems like we’ll both have to bring our best when you visit my room.”

“You’re so, so wrong …” she whispers, words exiting her mouth as if unbidden, captured by a phantom and transported to your ears against her will.

“I’ll leave you with your thoughts,” you whisper, leaning close to personally deliver your parting remarks into her ear. “Now, be a good little professional and smile as you walk away. You wouldn't want people to get the right idea about us, would you?”

You send one last synthetic smirk her way before departing, making your way towards the elevator as you check the time: a bit past ten, which means you’ll have to wait less than two hours for your answer. As you ride up to your floor, you send her your room number, closing the app before checking to see if she’d read your message. As you exit the empty elevator and see a flash of color in your periphery, your mind races with potential ideas. You immediately jump back in, hitting the button for another floor as you decide on a couple of places you’d like to stop by. Your mind is made up by the time the doors open once more, and you begin your preparations in full.

Regardless of the outcome, it’s going to be a long night.

-x-

No one ever views a high-tension elevator ride as a descent. Why would they? After all, the person closer to the top literally has the higher ground. However, the grimacing visage of the lone individual riding down towards another's room tells another story entirely, one that unveils just how little control they have over the situation.

The stop is sudden, shattering their reverie. A chime pierces the silence. The doors part, revealing a mockery of a red carpet and an empty vase before them. The figure exits, walking as slowly as they can bear. They reach an intersection and avoid the right choice. They walk towards the door in question. A single step. Then another. A third. A fourth. A fifth. A stop. A turn. A sigh.

An extended arm. An icy feeling. Cold metal. Another turn. Another sigh. An unlocked door. As expected.

The handle twists and the door swings open, revealing the dimly lit interior. What little light fills the shrouded space is amplified by the faint scent of rose. One sense is clear. Anticipation. The other is crystal. The sharp laughter of its inhabitant. Taunting. Beckoning. The lone figure allows the door to slam. They walk forward, braving the abyss.

-x-

The absurdity of the whole fucking situation hits you as you hear the hinges creak, ripping a cackle from deep within as you lay atop the bed. The door slams, and the soft sound of footsteps lasts only but a moment before emerging from the hallway is none other than the guest of honor, Song Yuqi. You capture her eyes and brace yourself for the heat, but the stare that meets yours is anything but. Her bloodshot gaze struggles to find your eyes as her eyelids fight an increasingly losing battle against the pull of gravity. Even as her sagging shoulders straighten slightly at the sight of you, it’s impossible to miss the lack of grace she normally displays. “Long nights?”

“And longer days,” she responds, clearly fighting back a yawn even as she paints on an insipid smirk.

“I know the feeling all too well,” you say, hints of sympathy beginning to seep through into your speech. “Come, share a drink with me. Maybe it’ll help ease your mind.”

Your words seem to inspire a slight awakening in her as she looks around and truly witnesses your handiwork for the first time. In your hand, a glass, with an identical twin on the bedside table alongside a bottle of your favorite wine. Scattered all around the room sit petals of rose, carefully arranged and lying so patiently as they paint a picture of your intended mood. You expected her to be here. You can only wonder if she ever believed differently.

“I could, but that isn’t why I’m here,” she says, sashaying across the room and leaning in close. “Besides,” she continues, overtly tipping your wine glass, allowing its contents to paint your shirt a dark burgundy. “We really need to do something about those dirty dirty clothes.”

You refuse to break eye contact, but your muscles tense at the chill running down your chest and staining your skin. Your hand shifts in a wordless challenge—one she’s all too willing to partake in—tipping the glass back towards her and causing a free flow once more. Admittedly, the effect of the sanguine liquid isn’t as dramatic flowing down the silk of her black dress as it is on your white shirt, but the view of her cleavage coated in crimson sends your heart rate into the stratosphere.

“We really do.” Your words barely have to travel as you stand and close what little distance remains between you two, casting the wineglass aside as you pull her into a passionate kiss. Her whole body melts into yours as your tongues clash, both of you fighting for superiority even now as you slowly push her back. You can feel the force of her heart, frenetically beating against her ribcage like a drum even as you both stumble and crash towards the bathroom. Once within, you push open the shower door, haphazardly turning the handle somewhere near the top as the deluge drenches you both. The sudden cold is a shock to both of you, earning simultaneous gasps as you watch the water coat her flowing golden hair before descending upon the midnight silk of her dress.

As the temperature rises, so too does the heat. Her soaked attire begins to cling to the curves of her body, and you're more than happy to do the same. Your hands grip and grasp at her breasts once again, savoring how perfectly they seem to fit against your palms. Hers find your hair, tugging insistently and intertwining pleasure and pain in the way only she seems to have perfected.

“Ffuuucckk.” The groan she elicits from you slips past your lips and behind hers almost instantly, sending shockwaves that resonate into the kiss neither of you has allowed to break since the water's initial shock. You barely have to wait before your moans are mirrored as she murmurs back, “God, the way you—fuck—how can you …”

The most minute of mercies is all you're willing to offer as you detach from her lips, instead tracing a perfect mirror of the path you'd taken sometime between a couple days and a lifetime ago: starting right behind her ear before nibbling on her earlobe, the lightest of kisses on her cheek and along her jawline, past the reminders of your indecencies, then finally all the way down the throbbing vein of her neck.

“I need to be inside of you,” you say, searching for her eyes and finding them somewhere amidst the storm.

“Right fucking now.” She finishes the sentence for you, nodding in agreement and gripping the hem of her dress as you tear off your belt.

Some part of you deep within sends a prayer of gratitude to the shower’s architect as you utilize the vast expanse of its luxurious interior to slam her into one of the drier walls outside the direct flow of the water. Her once-slumped shoulders heave from a lack of air and anything but a lack of anticipation, eyes wide and wild as they invite you to approach. You're all too eager to accept, planting one hand on her shoulder as the other reaches past your waist and finally frees your cock from the confines of your clothing. After blindly pulling her well-drenched panties to the side, you look her in the eyes once again—make sure that she knows the precipice you stand atop and that she's willing to jump with you. With the smallest of nods and not even a hint of hesitation, she steps up to the edge alongside you. Together, you take the plunge.

Immediately, the friction overwhelms your senses as you push into her, earning echoing moans from you both as you shudder at the sensation. “Fucking hell, you're incredible,” you growl, unable to silence the admission as you desperately focus your entire being into slowly progressing deeper.

“Keep fucking going,” she’s quick to growl back. “Don't you dare fucking stop until you're fully buried inside of me.”

"Of course, princess,” you manage to say even as you struggle to breathe. “Your wish is my command.”

"Fuck you, stop calling me that," she hisses through gritted teeth. "If you wanted a princess so bad, you should have invited Miyeon."

"But darling," you declare, drama dripping off your words. "I thought you wanted me to stay away from your friends? Or is it different now, now that I've got you exactly where you want you? Do you want them here to watch as you whimper and writhe under my touch, wetter than the ocean yet begging for more?"

“I fucking hate—” You cut her loathing short as you bury yourself to the hilt, ripping another round of moans from you both. Even as the heat between you two and in the nearby pipes rises, you can't help but revel in it, savoring the taste of your victory. You give her no chance to conclude her thought as you up the intensity, slamming your hips into hers at an ever-ascending rate.

While one hand remains bound to her breast, the other finds a home tangled in the soaked strands of her hair. Intentionally or otherwise, your hold on her tightens as the vice grip of her cunt further suffocates your shaft, granting you both the friction you've been desperately craving. The water quickly becomes the second biggest drowning hazard as waves of pleasure threaten to overwhelm you both—pushing you to the edge of ecstasy and tempting you to tip over it. “Holy fuck,” she sobs, voice strangled, scratchy, and nearly silent beneath the downpour. “You—you—”

This time, you're kind enough to allow her to attempt to continue, but her verbal communication skills fail her entirely. On the other hand, her body seems all too willing to tell you the whole story and a bit more. She's absolutely gushing around your cock as she clings onto you with more than just hands, seemingly unwilling to crest the climax without you in lock-step behind her. Unfortunately, the universe seems even less willing to cater to her requests than you are, sending her careening off the clifftop without even a morsel of remorse. The spectacle is sensational, leaving you so close to finishing alongside her, but you’re anything but done here.

It takes a herculean effort, but you manage to pull out of her, causing her eyes to shoot open for the first time in forever as she stares daggers into your soul. Your view is incredible: you see her makeup, running and ruined as her tears fall alongside the shower's flow down her face. As much as you'd like to suffer under the scrutiny of her stunned stare forever, you have a better idea. You toy with her slight frame once more, flipping her around with ease as you push her face first against the shower's glass wall. Within seconds, you're back inside her, thrusting like a madman as cries of ecstasy escape her once more.

“You like that?” you taunt, mind racing a mile a minute as your thoughts try to keep pace with your thrusts. “Like the preview of what's to come?”

“What … the fuck … are you talking about?” she gasps between broken breaths.

"Oh, you couldn't possibly have thought that this would be the end, did you?” you ask, expecting anything but an answer as she looks over her shoulder and you watch the danger in her stare dance behind her eyes. “No no no, next I'm going to take you back out there and fuck you against the window so that anyone who looks up is met with the glorious sight of how much of a slut you are.”

Even through her streaks of tears—born of both pleasure of pain—your inciting yet inviting words are met by both defiance and delight alike. Her voice never wavers as she warns, “I fucking dare you to try it. You're just as likely to get burned as I am.”

Your eyebrow arches, intrigue clear in your expression as you comment, “I thought we agreed that we both like to play with fire.”

“Keep fanning the flames and you just might find out,” she says, the amusement in her smirk standing strong even as you continue ravaging her insides. Somewhere—hidden amid the seabed beneath the waves of pleasure rocking her body—she even finds the audacity to wink and you both find yourselves wearing a certain type of smile. The type you both wear so well; the one only worn in each other's presence.

The shower's flow and slapping of skin keeps the silence at bay as your serenade of sin shifts from semi-verbal back to solely physical. Her lower lip finds a familiar home between her teeth as you turn her to face you once more and choose to plant your own pair atop one of her swollen nipples. You're all too willing to nip, suck, and tease at the sensitive nub, elevating her moans even further until your profusion of pleasures pushes her past a fever pitch.

“Fuck me damnit,” she demands, accentuating her point with a roll of her hips that sends a spike of dopamine through every inch of your body. “Fuck me and don't you dare fucking stop until I cum all over your cock again.”

Your mind wants nothing more than to retort, but your body has higher priorities, using that precious oxygen to power your thrusts as you lead the chase towards your shared climax. It'd be a kindness to give her exactly what she wants, but for once, you're willing to indulge her desires, especially since you conveniently seem to want the same thing. So, you fight, prolonging the burn in the hopes that you can bask in the flames of her desire a little longer, long enough to let it scorch you to cinders until there’s nothing left but the ashes of your self-control.

You only have to stretch your efforts across a minute at most before you’re met with a familiar sight. Even though you've only seen them twice before, you immediately recognize the signs of her oncoming orgasm—the shaking of her shoulders and the hiccups in her throat that convey an uncannily familiar feeling. “I'm close,” you whisper as you rest your forehead against hers. “Where should—”

“Inside!” she rasps, straining to choke out every word. “Do it damn you—I want to feel you shaking as you shoot every last drop inside of me.”

“Jesus fucking christ—” Your reply comes to a sudden end as you cut your words short, knowing better than to ask for mercies she'll never give. Instead, you do your best to cling to whatever coherence remains after the damage her words dealt, desperate to experience the absolution that only the statuette of sin in your arms can offer. And offer it she shall, as it's only moments later that her orgasm overtakes her, suffocating your cock with her tightness as the pace of your thrusting is brought to a near stop. Any grievances you might have had are gone in an instant as the sight of what you do to her sends you soaring over the peak after her, twitching and thrusting until you bury your entire length as deep as she can take. Rope after rope of your cum act as the strokes of a brush as you paint her insides white, defiling her in a wholly new way that neither of you could possibly enjoy more.

Eventually, your orgasm comes to a stop, but you refuse to. Neither of you gets a moment to rest as you instead resume fucking her, sending shockwaves up her spine and down your shaft as overstimulation brings you both to the familiar convergence of pain and pleasure. Every alarm bell in your body rings in unison, begging you to grant it respite from the overwhelming sensitivity as you continue to fuck your cum into her. But just as you've always done when it comes to Yuqi, you ignore every warning sign in sight as you keep thrusting, continuing your assault long after she's burst through her breaking point once more. Her third orgasm hits harder than the previous two combined, forcing you to keep her upright as you give her everything she's ever asked for and more.

Her shaking form eventually stills and you finally yield, granting her the most miniscule of mercies by withdrawing your cock from her. She immediately slides down the glass of the wall, collapsing onto the floor as you try to steady yourself and stay standing. In your efforts to do so, your hand finds the shower's handle and you cease its flow, allowing the echoes of your extended recoveries to resonate throughout the space.

Black spots cloud the edges of your vision as your muscles ache in the best kind of way. A minute later, when your sight finally returns in full, you're met by the picturesque sight of Song Yuqi—one of K-Pop's brightest rising stars—burnt out and panting at your feet as she too tries to come to terms with what just occurred. After another minute, you finally bring your breathing under control, but she's the first to find her voice.

“You … holy fuck,” she whimpers, gaze still hazy as she searches for yours.

“Yeah,” you say, eternally grateful for the eloquence gained through years of writing experience. “I've never …”

“Yeah?” she asks, rubbing her eyes and finally lifting the fog. “Never what?”

“Any of it—hell, all of it—nothing's ever come close to what just happened,” you admit, offering her a helping hand she’s more than willing to take. “Don't you dare lie to me and say you're any different.”

“No, never,” she tells you, allowing the truth to finally be out in the open.

With so little distance between you two, there’s nowhere to hide as you hold each other close, daring the other to be the first to break. There’s something in her eyes that threatens to bind or blind you—something you dare not confront. Not tonight. Maybe never. So, under the weight of her stare, you allow yourself to be the first to look away. “We should get out of these clothes before we catch something serious,” you murmur vaguely in her direction. “I’ll lay everything out to dry; you take a shower and I’ll follow suit once you’re done. That sound good?”

“Something like that.”

Her monotone delivery leaves you with nothing but questions, but you know better than to allow yourself to search her face for answers. Instead, you step outside the shower, dripping moisture all over the floor as you finally strip out of the saturated suit you’ve sported since sunrise. Once naked, you turn to her and try your best not to stare as you take her bundle of clothes before she steps back into the shower. It’s only a brief moment, yet it’s the first time you see her fully bare, leaving even the most inspired corners of your imagination looking like a child’s scrawling in comparison to the artistry that is her body. While you’re sad to see her go, you love to watch her leave—eyes glued to the slight bounce of her ass and rippling of her toned thighs as she walks out of your sight and under the water flow once more.

As she washes away the traces of your transgressions, you do your best to lay everything out to dry. You hastily unfold her balled up dress and lay it out across the bathroom sink, then make your way back out to the room and lay your own clothing across the table and chairs in the corner of the room. You can’t help but crack a hint of a smile at the rose petals still lying in wait, but your eyes truly come to a halt upon the wine entering your view. Barely even a decision is made before you’re striding across the floor, stopping only once the bottle is within reach and the cork has been yanked out once more. The glasses you’d requested are forgotten as you instead drink straight from the bottle, savoring the flavor as its contents dull your senses and wash away your inhibitions. It’s a familiar feeling and a far better friend than you’d like to admit.

You barely even have to kill time before you hear the shower cease once more, giving you your cue to reenter the bathroom and be greeted by the goddess’ mortal form once more. The simple act of her standing there is a gift to you as your perspective presents you with a view of her perfectly smooth skin acting as the backdrop to the droplets’ descent, her towel telling the stupefying story of her subtle curves as it hugs her hips in an impossibly tight embrace. Your eyes fight gravity as they yield to temptation, traveling up the tense muscles of her back and past the sharp edges of her shoulders, continuing ever upwards until they pass her long locks of brilliant blonde; continuing still, all the way until you catch a glimpse of her eyes in the mirror and how they've been observing you ogling her.

“You should hop in the shower. I still need to dry my hair,” she suggests, surprisingly sparing you the shame of having been caught staring.

“Yeah,” you say weakly, averting your eyes and walking away. The heat of the water immediately relieves your tension, allowing you a moment you refuse to use for reflection. Instead, you rush through your cleaning routine, barely registering any external stimuli as you singularly focus on your sole goal. When you shut the water off a couple minutes later, you’re met solely by silence. When you step out of the shower, you’re met by your reflection as the only other inhabitant of the bathroom. And once you’re fully dried off and step back into the bedroom, you’re met with a sight shocking enough to restart your heart. She’s there, on your bed, hair splayed out like a curtain of gold laid upon the pillow as the familiar pink and red of rose petals laid delicately atop your skin, obscuring your view of her chest and cunt.

“This won’t do …” she drawls, dissatisfaction salient in each sultry syllable as her eyes lock on to the destination of roughly all of your blood flow. “You’re not nearly hard enough for me.”

With a single, impossibly deep breath, she blows away the rose petals, revealing the obsidian lace of the lingerie she somehow dried during your shower. Without hesitation, your body begins to address the object of her anger, growing painfully hard and even more so as she curls a single finger, beckoning you over with a look that could set the Han River ablaze.

You’re all too happy to oblige. As you draw closer, you notice her freshly applied makeup: smokey eyeshadow and ruby red lips that paint a crystal-clear message in your mind. She’s not here to fuck around. She’s here to fuck you within an inch of your life.

The bed is more than large enough for two, and as you lay beside her, you amend one of your earlier observations; while her bra has remained dry, her panties are absolutely fucking soaked. You turn to her, opening your mouth and intending to ask her how she did any of this, but a single finger laid upon your lips locks them and keeps you silent. Her lithe form easily climbs atop you, straddling your hips as she leans in, giving you a fucking fantastic view of her cleavage once again as she nibbles on your earlobe.

“My fucking turn.”

With a roll of her hips, she grinds against your shaft, making your cock burn with sensation as the lace drags up and down the sensitive skin. At this angle—you beneath her as she coaxes everything she wants from you and more—you’re caught under the cruelty of her grin as the light casts shadows that accentuate rather than hide her beauty. Another roll, another realization. She’s got you cornered—physically, mentally—she might as well have a gun to your chest and yet, there’s a thrill coursing through your veins. When she captures your lips, she does so with a ravenous frenzy, teeth sinking into your lower lip and pressing until they’re dripping with the blood she craves. There’s no mistaking the fact that you’re the prey she’s been hunting. All that’s left to decide is whether or not you want to escape, and you’re leaning towards no.

"Are you scared?" she asks. It doesn't sound like a question. It sounds like a challenge.

"No," you answer truthfully, knowing full well that in the midst of this chaos—this maelstrom of ash and anticipation—fear has no place. “I can handle the heat.”

“Can you now?” Her laughter is a wicked, dancing flame that sears your senses as you witness her smile run ruthlessly red as she licks the remnants of your blood off her upper lip. “If that’s the case …” she trails off for a moment, reaching back and grasping your length with the unimaginably smooth skin of her hand. “Then don’t come crying if you end up getting burned.”

In the next breath, she takes yours away, sinking onto your shaft with a devastating aggression. Immediately, your lungs begin to tense and strain, desperately searching for air amongst the shallow gasps you sneak in between the slamming of her hips. It’s futile. When she feels like this—hot, wet, and walls wrapped around you so impossibly tightly—you’re better off attempting to offer up a prayer than trying to seize control.

Her onslaught leaves you reeling, back arching and fingers digging into the curves of her hips as you chase an even greater high. She’s relentless, unyielding, as if she refuses to allow you even the slightest opportunity to halt her momentum. Even as she gasps in exertion, it still adds to your torment, sending you tumbling ever closer to the edge of pleasure and pain alike. Her nails rake down your chest, carving molten mementos of her insatiable desire that you won’t soon forget, yet the more these sensations blend beautifully amidst this consuming chaos, the more irresistible it becomes. The way she rides you is primal, rough, yet somehow, unmistakably her. Demonic laughter echoes throughout the room as she rolls her hips ruthlessly, yet still it brazenly teases a promise of the pleasure to come.

Her body moves rhythmically against yours, riding up and down the length of your shaft at an incredible tempo as your heart rate soars ever upward. Your vision is pulled in a million different directions as every aspect of her figure demands your undivided attention—the ghosts of her fingertips as she delicately traces the lines of your abs, the faint hint of her nipples poking against the constrictive fabric of her bra, the unrestrained glee in her grin as she triumphs over the echoes of fatigue and maintains her ceaseless assault. Ultimately, your wandering eyes come to a stop at the sight of her evocative visage, long locks framing her face like a curtain, shielding the rest of the world from the harrowing beauty of this huntress whose sight searches solely for you. You can sense the wicked satisfaction in her gaze, a feral delight in seeing you under her control. Her voice is a low purr that vibrates through your core as she leans in even closer. "Scared now?”

"Never," you choke out in response, swallowing hard as her breath cascades over the sensitive skin of your neck.

She chuckles lightly, "We'll see about that."

You respond not with words, but with a tighter grip on her hips as you sense an opening and thrust up into her, disrupting her tempo with ease and issuing a silent challenge. She gasps in response, and there are hints of flushes—flashes of hunger—across those features hidden in shadow. Her satisfied smirk fades from her face, displaying instead a delirious delight that makes your pounding heart skip a beat. “Such audacity,” she murmurs, subtle signs of mirth showing in her shaking voice.

She’s quick to adapt to the new tempo, moving in perfect synchronization with your thrusts instead of attempting to seize back sole control. Somewhere along the thread that’s inexplicably tied you two together, you find harmony, allowing you to match each other’s strikes with dangerous precision. Her hands climb your body, tangling themselves in your hair and tugging harshly enough to send shivers down your spine. You cling onto her as if she’s the only thing keeping your consciousness intact, fingers digging into her hips deep enough to bruise as each stroke causes an explosion of sensation across your entire being. It’s an intricate dance of power and pleasure: intoxicating, addicting, and—just like she’s always been—impossible to resist. 

Amid the rasps of fuck and you and I and oh my god and yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssss, you see a flash of inspiration in her eyes, warning you even before she acts that she’s up to no good. A groan of frustration is ripped from your chest as she slows the pace, leaving you burning with a desire for more pace, more friction, more her, but if the look of bliss on her face at the long, slow strokes is any indication, you’re likely to be left wanting. It’s even worse when she stops entirely, hand wrapping around your throat, desperate for air even as she refuses to allow you any. It gives you a second to stare, to really take in the sight of her as she studies you right back. Even like this, the “flaws” in her appearance—hair disheveled, bra crooked, panties tugged aside, makeup marred by exertion—only serve to further showcase her perfection, leaving you hungry for more. You relax your clenched fingers and grant her hips the slightest of respites as you reach behind her back and unclasp her bra, finally freeing her breasts and their stiff peaks that call your name. Her panties present a bit of a conundrum, but you’re so intoxicated by the image of her you refuse to be reasonable. You muster up your initiative as your hands slide down her sides and rip them to shreds, finally revealing her in her glorious entirety.

“Those were expensive, you know,” she spits, but the words don’t hold as much venom as they normally do.

You shrug, wrapping your hand around hers on your throat as you reply, “So was my scarf.”

And then you both get back to trying to fuck the other into an early grave.

There’s a tempest of wills clashing—her burning desire against your ceaseless refusal to relent—that elevates you both past any limits you might have believed you’d had. The size of your hand dwarfs hers, but there’s an undercurrent of understanding, even as she so clearly communicates the threat she poses. Her eyes, shrouded in shadow, catalog every twitch of your body beneath her. She releases her grip on you before pushing herself up against your chest, bracing her palms as she arches her back in the most alluringly seductive way. The freedom granted to your airflow is for naught as the sight of her leaves you without breath, thought, or any way of slowing the climax you’re suddenly hurtling towards.

“You’re so fucking hard for me,” she whispers, cruelty and craving alike coloring her countenance as she captures your eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what you need? If you ask nicely, I might even give it to you.”

“In your fucking dreams,” you fire back, a feral smirk spreading across your face as the opening notes of her melodic laughter play for you. 

But her song stalls as her breath hitches, hiccups of pain and pleasure overpowering her as you feel the quakes overtake her. You wrap your arms around her back, pulling her close as her orgasm overwhelms her, coating your shaft and gushing down your thighs as she reaches the pinnacle of euphoria. Her teeth sink into your shoulder, seeking stability instead of sanguine satisfaction as her moans send vibrations across your skin, sweeping you up in the ecstasy she’s experiencing. You groan in agonizing pleasure as you meet her atop cloud nine, wincing at the magmatic flow of your white-hot cum shoots into her. In each other's arms you find incomparable pleasure, traveling together all the way from the ninth circle of hell to the seventh heaven.

You stay inside her longer than you need to, long enough for both of you to catch your breath. With a regretful groan, you pull out of her, opening up the floodgates of both of your cum to flow freely down her beautifully bruised thighs. You look to her, desperate to call for a draw, but instead you’re met with the face wearing the weight of weariness and shadowy eyes that seem to see right through you. Before she can even offer a single word, she collapses, tumbling to your side and laying her face against a pillow before going still.

-x-

After a brief confirmation of a pulse, you pull the sheets and covers over her, leaving her in silence before heading into the bathroom and cleaning yourself up. Upon your return, you’re anything but surprised to see that she’s gone, drifted off to dreamland, taken by tranquility. The sight steals your breath away, stunning you as your mind grapples with the notion that this peaceful sleeping angel inhabits the same body as the devil who rode you ‘til rapture mere minutes ago. You muster up a couple crumbs of courtesy as you quietly move through your hotel room, pulling on an old pair of jeans and a shirt you’d rather hide beneath the hoodie you instead hang on the door before sneaking out into the silence of the hallway.

You take a left, then a right, pause, then walk past the vase you’d raided earlier and choose to descend as the elevator doors close behind you. On the back wall sits a mirror and trapped within stands your reflection, staring through you as you study yourself. Your practiced posture protects the truth of the present—prevents the outside world from seeing the fatigue pervasive throughout your system. You’re shaking out of your reverie by the sound of a ding and the sliding of doors, revealing your desired floor behind you. You back out, refusing to break eye contact until the doors do the deed for you. You sigh, turn, shake your head, then trek forwards towards your destination. Ahead—beneath a wooden slab stained with stories—sits a suite of stools, empty and for the taking. You mount one and offer a small nod to the bartender, who seems surprised by your presence, though not your appearance.

“Long night?” he asks, grabbing a glass and setting it atop a coaster as he finds the answer in your eyes long before you vocalize it.

“I mean, yeah,” you chuckle, running your finger around the rim of the glass. “In all the best ways. Surprise me.”

His eyebrow rises as he catches the glass you slide back to him, pondering for a moment before turning and scouring the shelves. “Oh yeah? Then how come you’re here, especially now? Don’t get many visitors this late after hours.”

“There’s, uh …” you pause, considering how much honesty you want to offer before resigning yourself to sharing it in full. “There’s a girl in my hotel room. You can guess what we did there, but she’s asleep now and I don’t want to be there when she wakes up.”

“That’s a new one,” he responds, hints of a surprised smile spreading across his face as he slides back the glass, now containing a connoisseur’s drink of choice. “Though I’ll admit that still doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”

“Thanks,” you say, picking up the cup and swirling the liquid around, allowing the aroma to saturate your senses as the dark liquid sloshes around and splashes the frozen orb within. “Honestly, I’m hoping that with a little time, I might just find it at the bottom of this glass.”

“Then happy hunting, friend. Let me know if I can get you anything else,” he offers before turning to resume his cleaning.

“Will do,” you reply, raising your drink in thanks as the snug solace of silence settles over the space. A sip, a thought. Another, for naught. Try as you might, you can’t seem to wrap your head around why you feel the way you do. Theoretically, this “should” be the perfect justification for you to rip her next promotion to absolute shreds. You “should” be foaming at the mouth at this opportunity, the chance for you to give her what she deserves. This is the stuff of dreams, right? It “should” be.

You “should” be a lot of things. Conscience-stricken should not be one of them. Yet here you are. Regretful. Hesitant. Weak. Everything you shouldn’t be. Everything you hated being. Everything you swore you’d never be again.

And somehow, Song fucking Yuqi has the power to bring all of that out of you.

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. About her. More than you’d like to admit, yet likely not as much as you should. But it’s only here, in this drunken stupor amidst the forgotten hours of the night, that you finally take the time to truly reflect on your relationship thus far. You’re one of many who’s watched her shine brightest under the spotlight’s glow, but one of few who’s seen who she is in the dark. You’re aware of the disdain lurking behind every easy smile she gives, yet the taste of her cherry lipstick is more familiar than your morning coffee. You’ve heard all the honeyed lies she whispers so freely, but no one else knows how sweet she sounds when screaming your name. You might be the only one who knows she’s a nightmare masquerading as a dream, but you’re undeniably unsure whether it’s one you want to wake up from. So many thoughts, but not even a hint of the truth you’re hunting for.

But then, somewhere in the haze, you finally find the missing piece: it’s the hypocrisy of it all that drives you mad. It's the fact that she gets to have her cake and eat it too; the fact that she gets to grow her fame without growing as a person. It's the fact that you had to get your first editor—your friend—fired because he was limiting your creative freedom. It’s the fact that her group can undergo a massive scandal and have it all swept under the rug in less than six months’ time. It's the fact that you've had to abandon the unknown groups with the most compelling stories because they're not the ones who generate views. It's the fact that you've had to budget for the price of your ambition while she can max out her social credit without a second thought.

Worst of all, it’s the fact that you’re stuck wide awake in the lost hours of the day with nothing but her on your mind while she sleeps serenely in a suite paid for by the fruits of your labor. You've long since come to terms with the fact that she's living rent-free in your head; now you're just disputing her claim to the master bedroom and both parking spots. The possibility that you might be living in your worst nightmare—that you might have become an afterthought—fills you with an icy foreboding that even a thousand scalding showers couldn’t thaw. And there’s still nothing you can do about it.

If you’re being honest, there might never be.

You slam back the rest of your drink, desperate to display a degree of decisiveness wherever possible. You’re gentler when you set it back on the coaster, but there’s still enough force to cause the bartender to turn.

“So, did you find what you were looking for?” he asks, looking down at the glass before meeting your eyes once again.

“Can’t say I did,” you chuckle darkly, pausing for a moment before sliding it back to him. “But it couldn’t hurt to check again.”

Continued in Act Three …

(I’d like to express my appreciation to @capslocked for both their direct and indirect contributions to this fic. They’ve been the biggest catalyst for my growth as a writer the past couple months and I can’t thank them enough for their time and patience. Once you’re done with this fic, please do yourself a favor and go read “Starlet” if you’re in the mood for more Miyeon & Yuqi content. Once you’re done with that, please do me a favor and bully them into writing Part 2, tyvm!)

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #yuqi smut #yuqi fanfic #idol x reader #idol x male reader #gidle yuqi #gidle #yuqi #song yuqi #slow burn #gidle miyeon #miyeon

[jaeyums]

Just One More (Part 1)

Pairings - Fratboy!Haechan x reader (lowkey x dreamies)

Word Count - 3k

Content Warning - smut (obvi), angst, slight corruption kink, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, loss of virginity, Fratboy! Haechan (kinda), Toxic!Haechan, mentions of drowning (what??) pls Imk if I missed anything

Summary - You curse your new neighbours, partying what feels like every night, the booming bass making it impossible to sleep. Fed up, you finally ask them to turn it down, but when you're forced to make a seemingly harmless deal, things spiral faster than you ever could've imagined.

A/N - Ty all sm for the support on the teaser, its genuinely such a big motivator <3

previous | next

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Your alarm clock beeps, 4:45am glowing in red. You rub your eyes tiredly, crawling out of bed. It feels like time’s moving extra slow as you groggily go through your morning routine.

Finally ready for the day, you grab your work bag and red lifeguard shirt and head out the door to your opening shift at the pool.

Time goes by slowly and painfully, your tiredness making it difficult to pay attention to the early morning swimmers. You spent your time off deck doing some last minutes studying, though you doubt you actually retained any information.

The midterm was rougher than you had expected but you’re sure you’ve at least passed. You felt a slight weight lift off your shoulder as you hand it in, knowing reading break was right around the corner.

You finally arrive home, absolutely exhausted. You change into your lounge wear and instantly pass out on your couch.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You’re jolted awake, the sound of someone trying to break down your door booming through the apartment.

You scramble to get up, still drossy, as you shuffle your way to the door, grumbling.

“I’m coming, fuck, gimme a fucking second.”

You throw open the door angrily to reveal Haechan standing there.

“You didn’t forget about our deal did you?”

You throw a hand up to your forehead, it had completely slipped your mind. Plus you were so tired upon arriving home you didn’t even have a chance to think about it.

“And after we were so quiet last night too.”

He frowns, shaking his head in disappointment.

You had to admit they held up their side of the deal perfectly, and you weren’t trying to find out how loud they’d blast their music if you went back on this deal.

“Yeah no I’m coming, I just fell asleep.”

His face instantly lights up.

“Are you wearing that?”

He asks gesturing to your shorts and hoodie.

“Because honestly I wouldn’t mind, maybe just comb your hair a bit.”

You run your hands through your hair subconsciously but you quickly stop, annoyed when you catch yourself.

“No I’m not wearing this, just give me an hour to get ready.”

“Make it half.”

And with that he walks back to his apartment, leaving you to bask in your sorrow.

You run your hand through your hair again, checking it in the reflection of a nearby mirror. It did look really messy.

In all honesty, going to a party was the last thing you wanted do to right now, especially since your bed looked so welcoming. But if nothing else, you were a girl of your word, so you hopped into the shower.

The familiar sound of music blaring causes you to hesitate knocking on the door infront of you. You can’t even remember the last time you partied. Always going to school, studying, or working, you never had time to go out and have fun.

You debate turning back around and cozying up back in bed, your word be damned. You shift, turning back to leave, before realizing a boy is blocking your path.

He’s holding two packs of coolers, looking at you with a smirk.

“Where do you think you’re going? Pretty sure the party is that way.”

You sigh in defeat, and go to knock, but he interrupts your attempt.

“Do you really think they’ll hear you over the music? It’s open.”

You look back at him, his sharp eyes staring back in condescending confusion. He had this expensive aura to him that almost intimidated you.

When you don’t break eye contact, he leans forward, and you stumble back startled. He’s inches away from your face, his eyes still blaring into yours, when you hear the door open. You turn and realize he was leaning forward to open it.

He snickers and your reaction and walks past you, holding up the coolers in triumph.

“Let’s go Chenle!”

The boys shout upon his arrival. You feel so awkward, still standing in the door way, not sure if you should walk in or not.

You step inside as the door closes behind you. Taking in the party, you count around 30 people, clearly a smaller get together. Everyone seems to already know each other, your uncomfortably rising by the second.

You can’t help but look for Haechan, hoping to see some kind of a familiar face, despite the fact you two only properly met yesterday.

Your eyes finally landed on his tall figure, dressed in a nice black shirt and jeans. He’s leaned over a girl, whispering something in her ear. You watch as she blushes and squirms under his gaze as he pulls back to look at her.

The whole scene makes you feel off, so you decide to head towards where you imagine the bathroom is. Assuming the layout is similar to yours, you walk through a hallway with several doors lining it, which is way more doors than your hallway has.

You try your best to guess the right room, saying a small prayer before opening the door.

You’re met with the site of a boy sitting with his head titled back, this adams apple bobbing as he lets out a groan. Your eyes trail down to see and girl on her knees at the edge of the bed, her head between his legs.

He looks down slightly as he notices the now open door, and you peeking in. He bites his lip, scanning you up and down.

Breaking out of a trance you didn’t know you were in, you quickly close the door.

You back away from the door, your face scrunching in embarrassment, but your body is pressed against something before you’re able to get far.

Two hands land on your waist, holding you there, as Haechans face comes into view over your shoulder. His touch sends shivers up your spine.

“Whatcha looking for, princess?”

You can faintly smell a mix of alcohol and cologne as his breath tickles your ear. You try to move away but his grip tightens, restricting your movement.

“Relax, I was just looking for the bathroom.”

He lets out a laugh.

“That room definitely isn’t the bathroom, but I’m sure you’ve realized that by now, haven’t you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, silently hoping your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel, still hyperaware of his hand placement.

“Second door on the left.”

He finally lets go, as if giving you permission to leave. You nod at him as thanks and speed walk over to the second door on left.

You stand in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection. You actually pulled together quite well considering the day you had. Your hair and makeup complimented your features beautifully. Your outfit hugging your body in all the right places.

This is just a stupid party, no need to get so freaked out over people getting a little freaky, right?

Your mental pep talk is interrupted by someone walking into the bathroom, not noticing you at first.

You kick yourself for not locking the door, but the boy who just entered was unbelievably handsome, having a cute boyish look to his features, so you can’t be too mad.

“Oh, oh my god, sorry, fuck, I-I uh didn’t realize someone was in here, so sorry.”

You can’t help but laugh as he struggles to apologize, covering his eyes slightly.

“It’s totally okay, I was just leaving anyways.”

He lowers his hands, only now getting a good look at you. He seems to like what he sees as his face lights up.

“Leaving? Already? We could just chill in here a bit.”

You raise your eyebrow sceptically, though he seemed so innocent, it was hard to tell his intentions.

“I just think a break from all the chaos outside would be nice,”

He quickly clarifies upon seeing your expression shift.

“I’ve never seen you before, what’s your name?”

“oh yeah it’s my first time here, it’s y/n.”

He smiles, his pink gums flashing cutely when he does.

“My name’s Jisung, nice to meet you.”

His aura is much more comforting than anyone else’s you’ve encountered at this party so far. He was slightly shy, but still held himself confidently.

Before you can continue your conversation the door is swung open again.

Now Haechan stands in the doorway looking almost annoyed.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

His tone is humous and teasing, but the sentiment doesn’t make it to his face.

Jisung just rolls his eyes.

“Nothing, Haechan, we were just talking.”

“Well we’re playing a game now so let’s go. Out, both of you.”

He moves to the side gesturing you two out of the room. Jisung walks past him, but when you try to do the same he stops you in your tracks.

“Here, you’ll need this for the game.”

He holds out a red solo cup, taking a sniff causes you to recoil, the smell of liquor burning your nose.

“Oh, I don’t drink.”

“You do today.”

After a moment, you reluctantly take it. Maybe this will help with the nerves you’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

“Plus, if you do well, you won’t have to have any anyways.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Around ten of you now sit in a circle in the living room. Haechan stands in the middle explaining the rules of the game. It’s relatively simple, just truth or dare but if you refuse to do the challenge, you drink.

You look around, seeing some faces you’ve seen before. Chenle, Jisung, Jeno, and the boy from the bedroom, the girl being no where to be seen, are scattered throughout the circle.

“Couldn’t we just lie if we didn’t feel like telling the truth?”

Asks Chenle, titling his head.

“Can’t, we must swear on our life to be honest,”

He responds dramatically.

“But if you still feel like being a liar, Renjun is basically a human lie detector.”

He looks to a boy wearing glasses, who waves to the rest with a tight lipped smile.

With that, Haechan joins the circle, sitting on the couch directly across from you. His eyes now locked onto you.

The game starts with the usual stupid challenges, everyone laughing with each other, a playful feeling fills the air. People have yet to ask you anything, most likely due to the fact that they don’t know your name, which you were beyond grateful for.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t last long as Jisung decided you’ve been too comfortable for too long.

“Why hasn’t anyone asked y/n yet? Jaemin, since it’s your turn, you do it.”

The boy who you’d seen receiving services earlier looks over to you, the same scandalous look returning to his face.

“Hmm okay y/n, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

You answer almost immediately, not daring to risk hearing the twisted things Jaemin would come up with if you had chosen dare.

“Okay, let’s start with something easy. What’s your body count?”

The room fills with the boys talking, trying to guess what the number might be before you say it.

“I’d guess like five? surely not over ten.”

“I don’t know, she might be in double digits.”

“Look at her, I’m saying at least thirteen.”

“She kind of has this innocent aura though.”

The only person not chiming in was Haechan. As uncomfortable as it was having people you just met discuss your sex life, the way Haechan looked at you made you ten times more uncomfortable.

It felt like he could see right through you, like he already knew the answer; that all his friends were wrong. He knew the moment he touched your waist, knew by the way you reacted so sensitively to his hands.

You tried your best to advert your gaze, laughing uneasily. It’s not that you’re embarrassed or anything…okay you might be slightly embarrassed, nonetheless it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

It’s just the thought of revealing something so personal to a bunch of strangers that didn’t sit well with you.

“I think I’m gonna have to drink.”

Your answer is met with uproar, a series of “boo”s following your announcement.

You ignore them looking at the cup in your hand uneasily, before closing your eyes and taking a long chug.

The boos quickly turn into cheers, encouraging you to drink more.

So you do. You finish the cup in that long chug, a boy, apparently named mark, quickly handing you another drink. You pause, but only for a second, before taking it.

Just one more drink can’t hurt, can it?

————————————————————————

tags : @snflwrhaerecs4u @ki-aechan @loveforred

#idk what im doing #haechan smut #lee donghyuck #nct smut #nct haechan #nct dream #nct dream smut #frat boy #toxic #dreamies #nct x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream x reader #Just One More

[writingoddess1125]

ONE PIECE MASTERLIST

Back to Masterlist <-

OLD MAN SERIES MASTERLIST <-

You Take Care of Their Hair

You get High with Them

Zoro,Luffy,Corazon Child Series

Crocodile, Law, Sanji Child Series Pt. 2

You Take their Hat

You Cook for Them Even though You such at It

How Strong the Old Man Gene's Are

They Lay on your chest

You give them a Massage

You give them Facemask

Drunk + Spiked

The Moment they fell in love with you

Just a Peak

You Die at Birth

(S)cream

Weird Relationship Milestones

Useless Skills

Unique Kinks

You Accidently send them a Nude Pic

How They Say They Love You

Buggy The Clown

I'm your Biggest Fan (Completed)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

My Heart Breaks (Completed)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Theater Brat (Completed)

Theater Brat

Theater Bart Pt. 2

Theater Brat Pt. 3

Fell In Love Alone (Ongoing)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Jessica and Roger Rabbit Effect

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

My Anchor

Solo Act

Not Flashy

Your Seat Awaits

Trouble Comes in Pairs Pt. 1

NSFW Alphabet

Not all Silver and Gold

Buggy find out about thirst traps

Pain and Pleasure

Switch Things Up

Boardwalk Artist

Poppy Kisses

First Bounty

Modern AU Buggy -> Part 2

Secret Headcanon

Ocean Eyes

Drunk teasing with bestie

You get him a Corgi

Paints on S/O

Below the Surface

Helping Hand

Drinks and a Truth

Roronoa Zoro

Favorite Bartender

N$FW Alphabet

New Parent Zoro

Dancing With Swords (Ongoing)

Part 1

Luffy D. Monkey

Luffy realizing he's in love with you

Warm Mornings

Thunder Buddies

Sanji

Moral Support

Friend Like Me

A Girl to Love

Warmth

Curiosity

Part 1

Usopp

Bar Adventure

Shanks

My Shooting Star

Mihawk

Call Me Sir

Only Us

NSFW Alphabet

Tag Youre It

My heart lies with you

Fight for pleasure

Look up Darling~

Daddy Mihawk

How and Why?

Crack

Mihawk with his S/O

Love under the Stars

Morticia and Gomez Effect

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Its Done

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Young Love

Part 1

Part 2

Crocodile

So Annoying

Trafalgar Law

In Another Life

MISC.

Capitan Kuro X Reader

Alvida X Reader

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece shanks #zoro roronoa x reader #sanji x reader #op sanji #one piece sanji #usopp x reader #god usopp #buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #sanji #shanks one piece #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader

[elliespassagerprincess]

Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 2)

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who tries really hard to talk to you but you’re making it so fucking difficult.

☆ Milf Abby who tries calling, texting, literally all forms of communication but you leave her on read and you don’t even pick up.

☆ Milf Abby who’s frustrated but she knows she deserves it.

☆ Milf Abby who wakes up one morning to see you sent her a text.

With shaky hands she clicked on the message. The simple text read 4 words:

“me, you this Friday?”

Abby blinked, and she sat in silence for a while.

Holy shit this was happening.

She responded with a simple “ok ill pick you up at six”.

☆ Milf Abby who jumps up from her bed and yells “I got the girl!” But soon regrets it when Aubrey walks in and tells her to shut up.

☆ Milf Abby who was on cloud nine all week.

☆ Milf Abby who tells her coworkers about the pretty girl she’s going on a date with on Friday.

☆ Milf Abby who smiles at you, when she picks up Aubrey, and her heart feels like it could explode when you give her a little wave.

☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey what your favorite color is because she wants to wear an outfit in that color, because she read in an article it’ll increase her chances.

“C’mon baby tell me” Abby groaned.

“Give me chocolate first”

Abby’s jaw dropped.  “Aubrey its 9pm, you know you can’t eat chocolate at this time”

“No chocolate, no color”

Abby let out a sigh as she walked out of Aubrey’s room to her secret chocolate stash. She pulled out a chocolate bar, and she gave it to the little girl. Aubrey immediately opened the bar and she took a big bite.

“ok talk”

“she likes green” Aubrey spoke with a mouth full of chocolate.

☆ Milf Abby who takes her daughter to bed, and orders a custom suit in green.

☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and finds out they hired someone new.

“Who is he?” she asked while looking at Nora.

“I don’t know man”

“as long as she doesn’t break my record”

Nora rolled her eyes “of course he won’t abs, you’ve won the most cases in this whole firm”

☆ Milf Abby who tenses when she sees who was hired.

☆ Milf Abby who felt sick when he walked towards her.

“hi I’m- “

“heaters dad”

“Yeah” he chuckled “my name is actually Jason”

“I’m Abby”

The air was tense.

“what do you want dude” Abby said irritated.

“Look are you and the new teacher together?” He asked. Abby felt her eye twitch at his question.

“It’s none of your business”

☆ Milf Abby who thought her week was ruined, but when she got home her suit had arrived.

☆ Milf Abby who almost pees herself on Friday morning because today is the day.

☆ Milf Abby who takes the day off to get away from Jason and to relax.

☆ Milf Abby who spends hours on Pintrest to look for the perfect hairstyle.

☆ Milf Abby who’s ready by 3 in the afternoon.

☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey and her dad how she looks before she walks out.

“So how do I look?” she watched her dad smile at her.

“you look perfect Abby”

“now go get your girl!” she heard Aubrey yell.

☆ Milf Abby who made you a bracelet, and flowers out of paper.

☆ Milf Abby who sees Jason’s car outside the school.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart shatters when she hears your conversation.

“I’m going on a date with Abby” she heard your voice.

“Isn’t she too old for you? She’s in her 40s isn’t she?”

“what does age have to with anything?”

“she’s old”

yeah she was.

fuck, Abby knew too old. She didn’t even stay to listen to the conversation.

Abby ran out the school and she sobbed in her car. She should’ve know this would never work.

If only she stayed behind to hear how you defended her. If only she waited for you.

☆ Milf Abby who came home crying.

“Mommy what’s wrong- “Abby walked right past her daughter

“it’s ok let her go” she heard her dad say.

☆ Milf Abby who fell asleep crying.

☆ Milf Abby who wakes up with multiple texts from you.

“Hey where are you?”

“Abby?”

“are you ok?”

“I’m waiting for you”

“I’m home now”

“did you change your mind”

“Abby?”

With a shaky breath Abby blocked your number.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your existence once again.

☆ Milf Abby who sees you smiling at her, but she just nods back at you.

☆ Milf Abby who tells you have no future together.

Aubrey climbed into the car, and before Abby could drive away she heard a knock on her window. It was you.

“Hey” Abby said after lowering the window.

“Hi Abby- “

“call me Mrs. Anderson” she watched as your face dropped.

You cleared your throat “I’m sorry Mrs. Anderson, I just wanted to ask what happened the other night?”

“I realized that this wasn’t going to work”

“why?”

“because you’re too young. I need someone more mature”

“Oh”

Abby could feel the sadness radiating off you.

“You should go for someone your own age”

“Ok Mrs. Anderson, I understand. Thank you for your time”

☆ Milf Abby who feels bad after her daughter calls her stupid.

☆ Milf Abby who makes a realization by the help of her daughter.

“You made my teacher sad”

“Aubrey I don’t care stop telling me- “

“you do care. I see the way you look at her” Abby sighed at her daughter’s answers.

She does care. She downloaded social media to stalk you. She stared learning internet slang for you.

“Heathers dad said that he wants to ask her on a date-”

“what?”

“I heard him say that he’s going to ask her out but then I said no because you wanted to go on a date with her”

Then it clicked.

He was there that day to cause trouble.

fuck.

He wanted to get into Abby’s head. And he did. He started working at Abby’s law firm to watch her. To figure out her moves. Her weaknesses.

He must’ve heard her and Nora talk about the age gap. She made a mistake.

☆ Milf Abby who runs to unblock your number and calls you.

☆ Milf Abby who felt like she could cry when you didn’t pick up.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpers your name when you eventually pick up the phone.

“what do you want Mrs. Anderson?”

“No look I made a mistake, please listen- “

“you can’t keep doing this….You say you like me then you ghost me- I’m sick of your shit Abby”

“look I heard Jason say that you deserve someone younger- “

“well maybe I do”

Abby went quite at that.

You spoke up again: “I need someone who’s mature, someone who can communicate but what do I know Abby I’m immature, am I not? Because apparently you know what that maturity means”

“Please” she sighed.

“Please I’m begging you” Abby begged again.

The line went quite for a while.

“Come to my class tomorrow so we can talk”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and she goes to Jason’s office.

☆ Milf Abby who confronts him, and almost beats the shit out of him when he calls her a grandma.

☆ Milf Abby who gets into trouble but it was worth it.

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your class later that day.

She watched as you sat behind your desk. “Sit” you commanded and she did.

☆ Milf Abby who tells you the whole story.

“sorry won’t cut it Abby, you said the same thing the last time”

“Just because he said that doesn’t mean you have the right to ghost me”

“I’m sorry”

“Look just one more chance please”

“why should I trust you?”

“because I’m me”

You rolled your eyes at Abby’s response.

Abby reached out to grab your head, and your head snapped in the direction of you interlocked fingers.

“words mean nothing” you spoke.

“just trust me please and-” but before she could finish you leaned in to kiss her.

It was slow, passionate, and it was filled with so much love. Abby pulled away, only to get up and walk to side of the desk where you sat. She went on knees and she and put her hands on your waist. The two of you started at each other.

“Fuck” she breathed before you kissed her again.

☆ Milf Abby who jumps up when she heard Aubrey yell “ew!”

☆ Milf Abby who was really embarrassed.

☆ Milf Abby who turned as red as a tomato, she felt like a teenager being caught in the act.

“Why did you go on your knees?” you asked, still heavily breathing.

“it’s a way of showing submission” she shrugs.

“I’m trying to show you that you have me, despite our age difference” Abby explained.

“I’d let you do anything to me” she confessed.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night and smile the whole time.

☆ Milf Abby who keeps touching her lips, because yours were there.

☆ Milf Abby who apologizes to Aubrey for seeing such an act.

“It’s ok” the little girl reassured her.

“Now go get her before Heathers dad does”

☆ Milf Abby who shows up to school the next day to bring you lunch.

☆ Milf Abby who spells out the words “May i be your girlfriend?” with different fruit in the lunch box. All you did was smile at the sight.

☆ Milf Abby who was chewing her nails, waiting for your response.

“This is very romantic Anderson” you spoke. She watched as you but the lunch box on the table, you walked towards her.

“Get on your knees Abby” and she did so immediately.

“Why?” she asked while being on her knees.

“you’re too tall, I can’t kiss you when you’re standing”

The two of you shared a quick kiss.

“So is it a yes?” Abby asked, her lips inches away from yours.

“Yeah”

“Fuck yes” she breathed as she got up, picking you up and placing you on your desk. The two of you shared another kiss before you pulled away.

“Promise me something”

“What?”

“No more ghosting”

“yes ma’am”

“you’ll tell me if you feel insecure”

“yes”

“and one more thing Abby”

“what?”

“you aren’t too old for me. I like my women mature” you added as you wrapped your arms around her neck. Abby chuckled.

☆ Milf Abby who wanted to kiss you again before she heard your daughter yell “fucking finally” as she stood at the door.

“Who taught you that word?”

“grandpa did”

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who was the happiest women ever, since that moment.

☆ Milf Abby who knew you were the one.

☆ Milf Abby who already goes wedding ring shopping and who plans your future together despite only dating you for 2 days at that point.  

My pookies (the tag list): @mousymaven @lia-winther @zombholic

#abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson angst #abby anderson drabble #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x y/n #abby x you #tlou abby #tlou art

[cumikering]

Ex bf John Price x reader 2

2.6k | soft smut, angst, comfort Your closure (part 1)

You fiddled with the simple gold band. You hadn’t expected to see John, especially not there of all places. You didn’t know why you even said anything. You should have walked past.

But you remembered how you shook that afternoon in Hereford, gripping the edge of your seat and how you broke down as the train departed. You didn’t care what you looked like. How could you when you’d just ripped your heart out.

For days you holed up in your childhood bedroom, where you’d taken him into countless times. Your bed didn’t dip the same way without his weight. When you unwittingly pulled out one of his shirts from your wardrobe, you sobbed into it. You lived out of your luggage until you got your own place.

Perhaps you were desperate, or just silly, that you wore his gift as a wedding ring. That way maybe you could rationalise the hole in your life was from losing your husband, not just a boyfriend because dear God, he was so much more than that. As a sick vow that you’d never want to lose him to war, so you’d never crawl back. You had wanted to so many times.

You wrote John letters the nights you couldn’t sleep. Some mornings in the haze of slumber, you’d wake up to your empty bed thinking he’d left for the day. It took another second for it to dawn on you that he was never there. You took 10 more minutes to get up.

Sometimes you grabbed plates, one too many, and cooked four eggs instead of two. At the supermarket you’d reach for his favourite crisps before realising you didn’t have to anymore. Some nights you left the door unlocked out of habit.

The sun promised yet another day. The tears grew fewer and further between. Spring came and you found the box of letters you wrote. You counted - there were 56.

You’d never forgotten about him, even that the memory had loosened its claws on you. Despite the gnarly scar, the wound had dried.

But that day, after not speaking to each other for years, something crumbled in you. Was it his tired eyes? The way he stood, his weary smile? His beanie?

John Mother Fucking Price.

Did he hold onto the memories like you did too after all?

That evening, you laughed at yourself as you drove to his parents’. Knuckles white over the steering wheel, you stared at the front door as your heart raced. You rested your forehead against the wheel with a heavy sigh.

Why did you even come? What were you going to say? Did he even want to hear whatever it was you had to say?

You heart almost stopped when there was a tap on the passenger’s window.

It was John. Of course it was.

You unlocked the car with a shaky breath. He slipped right in and shut the door, rubbing his hands together and blew into them. The distant streetlight casted a soft glow on his face as he held your gaze.

“You alright?” he rasped, breaking the long silence.

You gave him a crooked smile, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” you muttered, more to yourself.

His eyes flicked to your hand. “I think you do.”

“It’s from you, John.” You held it up to him. “The last one.”

His breath caught, blue eyes searching yours. “Tell me you hate me before I do something stupid.”

You wrapped your arms around him over the console. He took a frantic breath of your hair, and you almost whimpered at the way your face still fitted so perfectly in the crook of his neck. He smelt the exact same.

“I can’t hate you,” you sighed. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

You told yourself if you shut your eyes tight enough, the tears wouldn’t spill. They did anyway when you heard the choked sob from him. His beard tickled and it didn’t take long for his tears to dampen your neck.

“Love, I’ve- Fuck. Nothing has ever hurt this much.”

Your fingers ran through his soft hair, right above the nape of his neck the way he liked it.

“If call it quits… If I give up everything, would you have me back?”

“You wouldn’t,” you whispered. The truth still tasted bitter despite the years.

He gripped your shoulders. “Each time I come knocking with someone’s tags, a part of me dies too. I never want it to be you. I’ll never let it be you breaking down at our door.”

“Don’t do this to me, John.” Your face twisted. “Don’t… Don’t say all these things when-“

“You gave up your life for me. It’s my turn to do the same.” His thumb caressed your cheek. “I’d follow you anywhere. You just have to ask.”

You sobbed. He stroked your hair, your face pressed onto his shoulder, leaving dark patches on his sweater. His cheeks were still wet when you cradled his face.

In his steady arms, you could never be safer. As the windows fogged up, you wished the night was as endless as your kisses.

The streets of Liverpool had settled when John closed the door to your apartment. His eyes remained a little puffy, but his smile was brighter than when they were dry.

You’d missed that. The way his warm eyes crinkled, how his lips curved.

He tentatively pulled you by the waist, pressing your body against his. You never thought you’d feel those sturdy hands on you again.

You led him to your bed and flicked the bedside lamp on before pulling him on top of you. He stilled over you, the warm light illuminated the lines of his face. You traced the shape of him, his lower lip, his faint freckles, his tired eyes. He shut them with a shaky sigh. He was perfect.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss you,” he rasped, grasping your waist as his lips closed over yours.

He licked along your lower lip, nipping on it. The small gasp you let out allowed his tongue to slip past your lips, brushing against your own. When you arched your back, his hand slid under your top, kneading your hip.

“John,” you breathed against his lips, tugging on his shirt.

With you between his hard thighs, you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his shirt off. His muscles weren’t as defined as they once were, but the same strength under was evident in the way his chest and arms flexed. You wasted no time running your hands over him, from his happy trail, partly hidden under the low hanging waistband, up to the darker fuzz of his chest. His abdomen rippled under your touch, bulge forming in his sweats.

He leaned back down and you palmed over the stretch of his back. There were raises you swore weren’t there last time. As you ran your fingertips over the scars, his lips didn’t relent against yours. Your tongues swirled between the nibbling and sucking. It surprised you how you were still in sync, not missing a beat despite the years.

He was still yours.

“Want you, John.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He helped you out of your clothes before himself. Kneeling before you, he parted your thighs and settled between them.

He exhaled, a rough hand trailed from your knee along your inner thigh. Your skin pulled as he squeezed the flesh at the thickest part, giving him a peek of your slick. He licked his lip.

His eyes flicked up to you, watching as you bit your lip, chest rising and falling, your nipples at attention. He climbed over you, licking a stripe up your breast before his hot tongue flicked over your nipple, rolling the other between his fingers.

Your fingers ran through his hair, clutching his roots. You hummed in pleasure when his mouth switched with his hand, teeth playfully grazing against your hardened nipple. Your back arched, yearning for more and more of him.

He sat back on his haunches, wet lips parted. Your hips bucked when his thumb swiped over your needy clit. The motion continued as his fingertips trailed from your waist down to your knee. His eyes transfixed on you as you shut your eyes, your breath shallow.

You gave a small nod when his finger circled over your opening. He barely had to push before slipping right in. He curled his finger, building his pace as he leaned over, planting kisses across your chest up your neck and jaw before meeting your lips again. The noises filled the dim room.

Your hand ran down his side, to his fuzzy pelvis and heavy balls. Your fingertips traced along his length and he twitched when you got to his leaking tip. You stroked his desperate cock, spreading the wetness it over him. You moaned into his mouth when he added another finger.

His pumped faster as he licked along your neck, his tongue grazing the cuff of your ear. Your arm slung over his neck, your nails digging into his flexed bicep as he held his weight up, clinging onto him.

“Always so good for me, love,” he breathed, his warm breath making you shiver.

Your back arched to meet him, hips rolling. His long, thick fingers grew urgent, thumb rubbing your swollen clit. The squelching merged with the sounds of the wet kisses your neck.

The familiar pressure settled in your core. Your breathing quickened, your moans shallow as he relentlessly hit the right spot.

“John- ah- Don’t stop, John,” you whined.

“Wanna make you feel good.” He nipped at your lobe. “Let me hear you.”

You unravelled with a moan, your head thrown back. Your trembling thighs closed around him.

“That’s it. Such a good girl for me.” He sucked on your exposed throat as his pumping slowed down to deep, long strokes, stretching the rest of your high.

He lied on his side facing you, rubbing your thigh as you caught your breath. He sucked his fingers clean with a deep sigh, eyes closed.

“John,” you began when you realised. “I don’t have any condoms.”

You tasted yourself on him as he leaned over to kiss you, his cock still hard and wet against your thigh. “We don’t have to. It’s all you tonight.”

“Has there…” It was irrational but jealousy crept up. “Have you been w-“

“Never.” He shook his head. “No one else since you.”

You felt like crying. “Please,” you whispered against his lips, cupping his face. “Need you.”

He kissed you once more, kneading your hip up to your breast before crawling between your legs. His eyes lidded, breathing shallow like he was delirious. He stroked himself a few times, as if his aching cock wasn’t ready enough.

A hand on your waist, he rubbed himself along your glistening slit, biting his lip as he watched. His tip circled around your opening. “Ready, love?” His eyes met yours.

When you nodded, he eased the first inch in with a groan, making you moan with the delicious stretch. He held your gaze, taking his time pushing further and further before he stopped with a teasing smile.

“John,” you whined, legs hooking around him.

He lifted your hips off the mattress and slid his last inches into your sopping pussy. The sensation of him bottoming out in you always intoxicated you. Your breath hitched as he grinded deep against you. Nothing ever felt a good as him.

His grip tightened before his hips moved. He reached to rub your clit with the pad of his thumb, making you whimper. He always knew how tilt his hips the right way, to reach that deep and undo you. The way he fucked you, sometimes you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You fisted the pillow under your head, jaw slack. His eyes flicked to your tits as they bounced with each thrust.

“Fuck, it’s been forever,” he grunted.

He leaned onto his forearms to kiss you as his fingers laced with yours above your head. His body flush against yours, his breath warm. His scent carried a touch of smoke as always.

His thrusts were deep and languid, pulling out all the way until only the head of his thick cock remained before burying himself to the hilt again in smooth strokes. He fucked you into the mattress like he wanted you to remember every drag, ever curve of him. Only he could make you feel this way – nothing ever came close. It was your sentence for stealing his soul.

“Want to make you come again, love.”

You weren’t sure it was muscle memory or what, but the intensity of his gaze, the way he rocked against you and the way he surrounded you made the heat pool deep in your belly again.

He tilted your face away with his nose, allowing him access to suck on the base of your neck. The way you tightened around him was his que to pick up his pace. He pounded into you, his balls smacking against your ass. He groaned, his breath searing against your skin. Each thrust pushed a huff of breath out of you.

Your fingers squeezed his. He knew what it meant.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he panted against your ear. “Oh God, never leave me again, sweetheart.” His voice cracked.

His wet eyes bored onto yours. You couldn’t help the tear that slipped.

“I promise, John. I promise I won’t.”

He lifted your waist, angling himself to reach even deeper. Your moans grew louder, your fingers pulling on his hair.

“Come for me,” he said with urgency. “Let me make you feel good, love.”

You moaned, legs tightening around his waist as your second orgasm washed over you. He thrusted faster into your fluttering pussy, his breath heavy against your ear. He kissed you again, tongue dragging against yours.

In a swift motion, he pulled out and came on your stomach, moaning into your mouth. You reached down, milking the rest of him, his hot come ran between your fingers.

He peppered kisses all along your jaw as his breath evened out before cleaning you up. You wiped away his tears with your thumb, giving him a peck on the lips. With a grunt, he lied on his back as he pulled you against him. He clasped his hand over yours, resting it in the middle of his chest, pressing kisses on your forehead.

“Love, can we have a bath?” There was a tinge of embarrassment in his voice. “My joints hurt when it gets too cold sometimes.”

Your heart wrenched. He’d made you feel so good despite the pain. When he followed you off the bed, you shook your head.

Moments later, you led him to the hot bath you’d prepared. You knelt by the tub and as he hunched over his bent knees, you helped him wash his hair and body. In the light, the scars he’d acquired since were clear, but it wasn’t what caught your attention.

For your last anniversary, he got a tattoo of your favourite flower on his back. After an array of art, it was easy for one to be just another piece, but this... He never covered it up.

Your finger traced over it. “You’re beautiful, John.”

He let out a deep sigh.

His head tipped back against the tiles as he soaked. Your arms folded over the edge of the tub, your head resting on your forearm. With a soft smile and lidded eyes, he gave your hand a squeeze.

The dark didn’t have to be endless tonight. Because there was going to be a tomorrow, next week, next month, next year.

You believed him this time.

@glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @shadofireshinobi @tiredmetalenthusiast @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @rainybubbles @erinfern0 @devcica @sacr3dm1lk @esthervalea @katz-chow @captainjamster @aethelwyneleigh27 @thatgoblin @rennroo

#codholiday2023 #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #captain price #john price #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #call of duty x you #cod smut #call of duty smut #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price x you

[ventismacchiato]

32 behind the lens — sad quotes bot !

scaramouche x g!n reader

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Almost a week has passed and you haven’t spoken a single word to Kuni in that time. You’ve been rather busy doing streams with your camera on but pretending to be okay with millions of your fans watching was beginning to look difficult. You received a few confused texts from Jean when she saw your reveal, but she didn’t question you further than that.

Class became burdensome as you could only stare longingly at the back of Kuni’s head. He arrived right on time and left without bidding your farewell. He never even turned his head in your direction. He wasn’t being outwardly mean but you’d rather have him yell at you then pretend you didn’t exist.

Childe had texted you that morning updating you on Kuni. He was in the same boat as you, ignoring his meals and plunging all his energy into work.

You follow him out of class that day.

It took you a while to find him, his monotone outfit blending in with every other student. But you eventually caught up and grabbed ahold of his backpack, causing him to stumble before turning back. He flinches at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you greet, “Can we talk?”

He reaches out to remove your hand from his backpack and shakes his head, about to turn around before you speak up once more. Desperate.

“Please?”

Kuni stares past you for a few seconds, an unreadable expression adorning his face.

“Didn’t I ask you to leave me alone?” he eventually says, his voice lacking any warmth it once held before. How could the same lips uttering such cruel words be the same ones that were on you skin mere days ago? Your stomach was sinking.

“Yes,” you lamely answer. It felt like you were being scolded like a child, “I just thought I’d check on you.” Screw Childe for giving you false hope.

“I don’t need you to check on me,” he spits, “I don’t need you.”

Now you were the one who flinched.

“You don’t mean that,” you eventually say as students mill past.

Scara opens his mouth to say something else but quickly closes his lips shut.

“I said give me time so I don’t say something I regret,” he sighs, “Bye,” he mutters and shoves past you.

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

typo in slide 1: toasting a poptart*

childe changed scaras wallpaper to nayeon to cheer him up :3

author’s notes — if you rmbr when i accidentally posted this no u don’t (gaslighting)

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @kcbenis @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

#behind the lens smau #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche smau

[504py]

Candlelight and Calluses - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

A particularly unruly thunderstorm begs you to ask your knight to stay by your bedside, just for a little bit.

i see quite a bit of bodyguard leon fics so i always thought he'd fit into a knight au rather well. art by me!!

Historical inaccuracies, I'm terrible at old-timey speak LOL, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, relationship is dubious so this could be seen as platonic, romantic, or however you'd like.

1, 2

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It seemed like life would continue like normal after your former knight was discharged for stealing from your mother, and Leon came to replace him. He definitely feels more trained, more skilled, more refined, someone very reliable, so you can see how he was hired so quickly.

Somehow, you just can't get used to his presence, though.

You see him at very scheduled times of day. He sleeps in a room close to yours, mother said its safer to have him closer at night in case someone breaks in. If you're awake early enough, you can catch him leaving his room. You see him training in the courtyard through the window you pass by when you head to the kitchen. He always escorts you to your bedroom and says goodnight when you decide to call it a day, and stays posted near your door for a few minutes, before retreating to his own for the night.

Tonight, you ask him to stay just a little longer. Rainy days never really bothered you, but the thunder today was particularly bad. It was painfully loud and booming, each strike and roar making you flinch in the anticipation that the ceiling might cave in on you any moment and swallow you whole. You knew he was there to protect you, that's the main reason he was here, but your cheeks burned at the loss of your pride when you give him your request.

His expression, illuminated by the lantern in his hand and highlighting the sharp planes of his visage, is slightly different than usual at your query. His dark eyebrows are slightly raised, the frown on his lips not as deep as it usually is. His eyes are softer.

"Of course, my lady."

You head inside your bedroom, your sight settling on your nightwear set on your bed by one of your maids. You turn to Leon, asking that he leave while you change, but his back is already turned to you. You figure he got the hint, and you undress.

He's listening intently to the sounds of cloth shuffling, till he hears your weight dip your mattress, "Have you finished dressing, my lady?"

"Yes, I'm all done." You reply. Your voice is weaker than usual, perhaps scared that the thunderstorm will hear, and a crackling boom will respond, instead of Leon.

He turns back to you, seeming to pause for a moment, thinking of what to do. You've never seen him do that, perhaps this situation is new to him. That thought makes your face warm in shame.

"I... Shall I stay in the room, or shall I stay at my post, milady?" His voice is quieter than it usually is, too. Admittedly, it's a little hard to hear each other with how loud the rain is.

"If... If it would be alright, Sir Leon, could you stay by the side of my bed? Just until the storm subsides. I'd hate to keep you here for too long."

"It is no trouble to me, my lady, I promise."

He makes his way over to you, confidence in each step despite being so unfamiliar with such a strange, intimate request.

"...You can grab that chair by my vanity, Sir Leon, you don't have to stand."

He obliges, grabbing said chair and setting it by your bed.

He's dressed in a simple cream-colored linen blouse and trousers. You can see his neck. You breathe out a laugh realizing that this is probably the first time you've ever seen it. He wonders what you find amusing. You rarely ever see him without any armor on, maybe just a glimpse when he leaves his room in the morning, and even when he's not in full steel plating, he's usually donning chainmail.

"...Is it heavy?" You mumble, drowsily.

"What is, my lady?"

"The armor you wear. Is it heavy, Sir Leon?"

"Well... Not particularly, milady, but perhaps I've just gotten used to it. It does get hot, though."

"Mm..." You hum, "Always wanted to try it on, always wondered what it was like... I know mother and father won't let me, though." You chuckle.

Leon smiles a little, maybe the first time you've seen him do so. "Maybe I'll let you try on my helmet someday, milady."

"Really?" The drowsy smile you send him makes him feel warmer, "That'd be nice... I always thought the armor you knights wore looked so fashionable." Your eyes close.

He laughs slightly, and the sound is clearer now. Without realizing, the storm had passed, and you feel at ease. Leon waits a little longer, counting your breaths and seeing if your eyes will open again. He thinks the way your eyelashes rest against your cheeks look beautiful.

"Sir Leon?" You mumble, barely legible.

"Yes, milady?"

"Have a good night..." You add, before dozing off.

"You as well, my lady. Good night."

He waits a few minutes more, like he usually does when he escorts you to your door. He's never watched you sleep before, despite this being part of his nightly routine. He wishes a little more that thunderstorms would happen more habitually so he could do this more often.

Leon gets up, and quietly places your chair back to your vanity. He returns to take his lantern from your bedside table, and he pauses, watching you for a few beats more, before retreating to his bedroom for the night.

"...Calling me just Leon would be fine." He ends, with a whisper of your name.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 #re4 #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil au #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #🫧 #🛁 #resident evil fanart #resident evil 4 fanart #re4 fanart #re4 art #resident evil art

[pherelesytsia]

Who did this to you? - 8

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing 

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part6 Part 7 Part 9

The clouds wandered on, a lonely wanderer travelling across oceans and meadows, hills and rugged mountains painted in snow. White greyed, darkened and blackened, turned into pure doom, darker than black. The wind howled, screamed and screeched and the branches, crooked fingers, waltzed in all directions.

Silence blanketed the car driving down the path bordered by fields and trees, but it was not unpleasant, cruel, forcing nonsense to fall to shatter it. Shocked, Y/N noticed with widened eyes they had arrived at the open gates of the estate she called her home. At a rapid pace, the car drove on and on, past other parked cars and parked between them in different shades of the deep ocean. The motor wasn't roaring, turned off and the chanting of the birds sitting in one line on the lowest branch invaded the car smelling of alcohol, petrol and leather. The wind knocked on the automobile. Polly gulped, turned and rested her hand graced by a golden ring cautiously, almost shyly, on Y/N´s lap, but the shivering and shaking woman painted in blue and red, lightened by streaks of purple, did not flinch nor speak her mind. Carefully Polly´s fingers slid across Y/N´s calf and pulled the thick fabric higher to hide the exposed skin. Polly pronounced her name and pulled Y/N out of the dark and dreary thoughts, summoning goosebumps all over her flesh.

            "Thomas is fine. He knows what he's doing. Nothing will happen to him." Polly assured calmly, guessing the reason for the fear in the widened eyes and sweaty palms.

Faintly Y/N smiled.

            "I know, but I'm worried about him. About Poppy. There was blood, too much blood. I thought it was the new wallpaper she had told me about. They, she and her mother, redecorated the house. The pattern, it looked like flowers, large and smaller dots." she replied.

Exhaling, Y/N closed her eyes veiled by tears once fixed on the distance, watching the sun, the rays breaking through the travelling clouds heralding a day full of terror.

            "I'm sure your friend is fine, too. Thomas will take care of her." the woman continued with a gentle, encouraging smile on her features, kissed by the orange rays.

Polly cleared her throat. The smile fainted, and the wrinkles deepened. She didn't need to search for the right words, had already pictured during the ride what she would say to Y/N if their paths should cross, but all Polly wanted to say had dissolved, had lost its meaning.

            "We're home Y/N/N. Ada is waiting, but before we go inside, I want you to know that we are sorry. We have not been good to you, to put it nicely. Please forgive us and I speak on behalf of the whole family. John was the one who opened the door for your friend. After we realised what had happened, we were looking for you. I hope you will give us a second chance even if we don't deserve one. We will understand if you want to leave. We won't hate you for your decision." Polly continued and squeezed Y/N´s hand.

Y/N turned, ignoring the nearly unignorable pain trying to elicit a hiss from her, and turned to face Polly. She wanted to start a sentence; lips parted, but no tone escaped the sore throat. Y/N stared past Polly towards the door, flying back and forth in the fresh morning breeze. Ada ran towards the car as if chased by a ghost, had left the door wide open, ran on tiptoes and hissed and cursed like a witch as the stones dug deep into the soles of her reddening feet. The hem of the dress danced in the breeze. Gasping for air, Ada spread the large checked blanket, usually resting on the floor next to the sofa. The wind painted her cheeks vibrant red, lighter than her evening gown.

            "Come, Y/N/N, we will protect you." Polly assured in a calm, slightly quivering voice, but Y/N heard no falseness, no lie in it.

Y/N could not utter a reply. The air, hinting of winter, invaded the car. The women shivered and balled the hands into fists. Ada hushed a greeting, spread the blanket, glanced at the wounds gracing Y/N´s body, down on the battered feet and the shivering limbs. The pain in her chest deepened at the sight of the shadow of a woman, read in her eyes what she had been through. The lip was chapped. The traces of a fight were evident on her cheek and throat. Ada tossed the blanket over her shoulder, noticing Y/N was covered in one. Wordlessly Ada helped Y/N out of the car. Soft curses blurred with whimpers. Whispering soothing words, Ada pulled Y/N away, closer to the house, kicking the door of the automobile shut and gesturing for Polly to pursue. 

            "I've prepared a bath for you. I'll help you upstairs. If you don't want to bathe, I can put a bucket of water next to the sofa. You can at least warm your feet." Ada said.

With every step, every slight movement Y/N made, the once brilliant white material slipped and revealed more wounds, swellings, and darkening spots not fading in the golden tide of the sun's rays, but grew even darker. Blue turned to green, lit by purple flashes and red veins carrying blue blood. Patiently Ada waited, and stared back at Polly, walking hastily after the women.

            "Thank you. I think the bucket will do. Maybe I'll get in the tub later." Y/N replied meekly, as if speaking to her mother, fearing the answer would enrage her, but none of what she expected happened.

The chilly breeze blew through Y/N´s hair one last time. The door slammed shut, and the keys jingled, chanted a song that faded quickly. All doors were closed and locked. Curtains touched. The first aid box, not battered, holey neither with a worn handle nor dented corners, rested open on the table. Scissors, and spotless bandages lay next to bottles of high-proof alcohol, freshly washed not dried glasses, cigarettes and silver needles drowning in alcohol. Blankets covered the sofa, to which Ada led Y/N and a down pillow. The white porcelain bowl graced by blue vines and flowers was in the middle of the crowded table. Smoke rose from the cup, sweet lavender, and banished the unmistakable stench of blood and gore.

            "May I offer you some soup?" the question was unnecessary, asked out of politeness.

Y/N turned into a tree, rooted deep into the ground, not moving. Her arms swayed forward. Questioningly, the two Shelby's exchanged glances, searching for the reason for the fear in Y/N´s eyes, unable to find it, but then, after a moment that seemed not to pass, Ada took a step forward, let go of Y/N, took the polished pistol and hid it under the table, still handy but out of Y/N´s sight. Polly placed her hands down on Y/N's shoulders, trying not to cause her any more pain, let the blanket slide to the floor and carefully pressed the young woman down on the sofa. Ada wriggled back towards them, took the blanket still hanging over her shoulder and laid it down on Y/N's legs, covering them, reached for the pair of fluffy socks, wiped away the dirt, small stones, dust and dried mud, and put the socks on Y/N´s feet.

            "It's okay." Ada breathed before Y/N could protest.

Smiling, Ada looked up, wiped her hands on her long dress, picked up the bowl filled with soup and placed it carefully in Y/N's lap, handing her the silver spoon.

            "Here, Y/N/N, eat. I'll fill you a bucket with warm water in the meantime. Polly will keep you company. If you need anything, if you feel sick, all you have to do is tell us and we will help you. You are still in shock." Ada said in a calm voice.

Gulping, Ada crouched next to Y/N.

            "We should have taken you into our family. I am sorry, we are all very sorry. It's understandable that you don't want to see us, you have enough reasons to hate us. The only thing I can do is to promise that we will do better. If you need time, I have a friend. She owns a small cottage a few miles away from town. There is a pond and a small forest. It's lovely. I could arrange that you could spend a few days or weeks there." Ada continued.

Y/N merely nodded, unsure of what to say, not knowing how to respond, and kept on smiling. The two women watched Ada as she rose from the ground like a phoenix from the ashes and strode away. Polly leaned closer to Y/N, tidied the blanket and hinted that she should eat, that it would do her good. A soft thanks escaped Y/N, smiled at the women who wordlessly indicated that she should finally start eating and so Y/N did, dipping the silver cutlery into the depths of the bowl whose end she could not see, watching the thinly chopped vegetables slip from the spoon and as the warm liquid flowed down her throat, Y/N realised how hungry she was and ate greedily.

Time had lost its meaning. Y/N had emptied the contents of the bowl. The last piece of sliced carrots had disappeared, yet she did not place it on the table, continued to warm her fingers on the ceramic bowl.

Heels clicked against the dark wood, had put shoes a hue darker than the evening dress. Cautiously, Ada continued walking with her eyes fixed on the troubled waters, fearing the warm liquid was about to spill over the golden rim. A towel, white with a few washed-out stains, hung over her right shoulder, the towel she always used when a brother standing on the edge of the world was carried inside the house. The floorboards groaned, and Ada stopped and noticed Y/N had finished the soup she had cooked for her.

Out of the corner of her eye Polly noticed how Y/N´s eyes were growing heavy and she leaned forward, took the bowl and placed it on the table. The young woman wanted to protest as Polly told her to rest, to say that she had to stay awake, that she wanted to wait for the return of the brothers and her husband.

            "No, Y/N, lay down. You can stay with us or you can go to the bedroom. We will keep watch and if you need anything, you can call us.", "Polly, we should take care of Y/N's wounds first." Ada interjected.

            "That won't be necessary. That can wait. Alfie has taken care of her wounds it's just dirt and scratches. The wounds are not life threatening. Y/N rest, close your eyes. I promise I will wake you up if Thomas is home." she replied.

Carefully Polly pushed Y/N backwards. Her heavy, throbbing head sunk into the pillow. Closing her eyes, Y/N sighed in relief, exhaled as the blanket fell down on her body. Birds chirped, the howling ceased and lulled her to sleep.

            Polly leaned forward happily and noticed Y/N had fallen asleep.

            "Thomas told me that Alfie has taken care of Y/N. No deep wounds or else I would have taken her to the hospital. We can take care of it later." Polly reported.

Ada rose, set the bowl aside on the table, sighed deeply, nodded, listened to the woman and turned to the fireplace, the blazing flames feasting on the wood and fed by the howling air hinting of winter.

            "She was beaten up. I didn't see any bullet wounds. Did Thomas tell you what happened or who is to blame?", "He has a guess, but he couldn't tell me anything specific. It all happened too fast. The gang has Y/N's girlfriend in their grip. At least that's what he thinks. The house was trashed, destroyed, and I think I saw bloodstains on the floor." she breathed softly.

Her eyes kept sliding to the slumbering figure, kept glancing at her right side and noticing with relief that Y/N was still asleep, her eyelids neither twitching nor her lips twisting into a pained grimace.

            "Alfie's going to show up any minute. Thomas called him. He fears someone might pay us a visit." Polly whispered in Ada's direction.

Ada perked up, grinned, felt the weight of her weapon at her side, settled down in front of the blazing flames, gnawing on wood and fed by air on the armchair, threw the pillow to the floor on her side and crossed her arms in front of her body.

            “We don’t need someone to protect us.” Ada stopped.

A soft knock silenced Ada. The women exchanged glances. The rustling, and shuffling of shoes and feet, softly uttered words, the closing of the door and the jingling of keys followed by low grumbles couldn’t awake Y/N from her deep slumber, lying on the sofa, a princess in the shadow of the vigilant dragons.

TagList:

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#thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x you #michael gray x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #arthur shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #john shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #john shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #michael gray #cillian murphy imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby fluff #arthur shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: thank you so much for all the feedback! I am loving hearing your guys thoughts and I'm having so much fun with this

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SMUT (consensual), oral (female receiving), mentions of SA.

Word count: 2730

(all photos are from pinterest)

The following day was another quiet day, and though Rhysand had stayed up with me all night like he promised, I didn’t hear from him in the morning. I avoided my brother at all costs and Lucien as well and spent the morning and afternoon getting ready for the ball at the Autumn Court that would be taking place tonight. I was sure to pick my dress carefully, opting for purple again.

I used to not care for balls, most of the time I would show up and not have anyone to see save for Viviane and Kallias who always had each other to dance with. This of course left me to dance with Lucien or not dance at all. I always left bored and feeling more lonely than I had been before I got there. 

I knew tonight would be different not just because of Rhys, but because of Eris. My brother has made it very clear at breakfast that I was to dance and charm Eris all night. The thought made my stomach churn and my eyes water, but I knew better than to disobey. 

From the second I walked into the ballroom I could feel Rhysand. The mass of people swirling and dancing around under the gargantuan chandelier made it near impossible for me to find him. I nearly reached out with the bond before my brother grabbed my arm harshly. 

“Remember sister, you are to charm Eris whatever means necessary,” he growled in my ear so only I could hear. 

“I will, now I’m going to find Viviane.” I glared and sauntered off to do just that. 

The ballroom was impossibly packed but finding Viviane’s ice white hair among the crowd was easier than I thought it would be. 

“Well you two look amazing,” I beam walking over to where her and Kallias are being wall flowers. Her dress looks like it was made entirely out of frost, and cascades down her body like it was made for her, knowing how Kallias likes to dote on her it probably was. 

“Me? Look at you! Purple is your color,” she smiles. 

“So, are there any eligible bachelors for me to romance tonight?” I laugh taking her arm and walking around the perimeter of the ballroom with her and Kallias. 

“No one worthy of note, but you know how picky I am when selecting a suitable man for you,” she giggles. 

“That’s true, you’re a worse critic than I am,” I smile. We promenade around the dancefloor until we run into one of Viviane’s friends and she stops to talk. I take it as my opportunity to glance around the room looking for a particular High Lord and finally I find him. 

He’s at the edge of the room wearing black as usual, conversing easily with two Illyrians. Their wings take up most of the space around them. The one with longer hair is obviously drunk as he lets out a laugh that reverberates throughout the room, the one with the shorter hair, swathed in shadows, simply shakes his head and smiles. Rhysand has yet to see me and to draw his attention I give the bond a tug, the first time I’ve ever done it. 

His head snaps up in my direction and I see the corner of his mouth curl. 

By the cauldron, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, my mate. 

“Why thank you my lord, I seemed to remember you had a certain affinity for the color violet,” I muse back to him and I swear from this distance I can see his eyes light up. 

The Illyrians next to him turn their heads to look at me, the one with the long hair gives me a knowing smirk and I quickly turn my head back to the conversation Viviane is having. 

I hear Rhys chuckle in my head, They don’t bite darling. Well Cassian might, but only if you ask him to. He muses over the bond. 

“An interesting proposal, I’ll keep it in mind,” I say back trying to hide my smile. 

You little minx. 

Before I can say anything back I feel a hand on my back, I turn to find Eris there, a hopeful look in his eye. He takes my hand and kisses it in greeting. 

“Y/n, what a pleasure it is to have you in our court.” he smiles.

“Of course, my brother and I were very honored to receive an invitation,” I say, trying to sound as chipper as possible. 

“You were the first invite we sent, by now I’m sure your brother has told you of my feelings towards you,” he smirks. 

“He has brought them to my attention, and I must say I’m flattered,” I smile.

“Might I have this dance?” he asks, my eyes flit to Rhysand for half a second, but it’s long enough that I can see the rage simmering in those violet eyes.

“Of course,” I say, taking Eris’ hand and allowing him to lead me to the dancefloor. His hand spreads over my waist almost obsessively as we waltz around the room. 

“You really are quite the sight to behold y/n, I can see why your brother keeps you locked up in the Spring Court,” Eris praises me. 

“I regret that he does so, if I had been allowed out more I would’ve found out much sooner how amazing of a dancer you are,” I smile flirtatiously. 

“Among one of my many talents my dear, though you’ll find out soon enough about those,” he whispers in my ear. 

We dance on and on swirling about the room to the music. From the corner of my eye I can see Tamilin and Beron watching the two of us and for the first time in a long time Tamlin almost looks happy. However it’s not long until I see his eyes catch on to a beautiful brunette that seems to grab all his attention. My skin starts to buzz again and it isn’t long until a large hand claps Eris on the shoulder. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Rhysand asks Eris smoothly. His words say one thing but his eyes look at Eris like he would cut off his hands or other important body parts if he were to say no. 

“Of course,” Eris says, passing me off to Rhysand and taking his leave.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” I snap at him.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand to watch another minute of that,” he says cooly. 

“Someones jealous,” I muse.

“Very,” Rhysand confesses with a small smile. 

 As we sweep across the dancefloor, the feeling of his hand on my waist is all too familiar and I can’t help but remember the last time it was there. I look to the side to find the two Illyrains standing at the edge of the ballroom watching us. 

“Who did you bring with you tonight?” I ask Rhys. 

“My most trusted friends and members of my court, Cassian and Azriel. Azriel is my spymaster and Cassian is the general of my armies.” he explains. “I grew up with them, they are like brothers to me.” 

“Do they know?” I inquire further. 

“That we’re mates? Yes. I think Cassain would start a war for you already,” he chuckles. 

“Interesting, I would’ve thought they’d be upset,” I say, turning my head back towards Rhys.  

“You are not my court’s enemy, your brother is. You aren’t damned by association, and besides they are my brothers, they want me to be happy.” Rhys explains further.

“It sounds like you have quite the amazing family,” I acknowledge and he picks up on the longing in my phrase right away. “I doubt I’ll be treated the same here in the Autumn Court.”

“Why would it matter how the Autumn Court treats you?” he questions. 

“Because I’m marrying Eris,” I sigh, keeping my head down, unable to meet the sadness I know resides in his eyes now. 

“What?” he growls and for the first time since I’ve known him I’m afraid of him. 

“My brother has decided to marry me off to Eris for political gain,” I explain further.

Rhys takes my hand and drags me off the dancefloor, at this point people are so drunk they don’t even notice. He leads me to a room off the ballroom and closes the door. I take a moment to look around at the dimly lit study, filled with old books and mahogany furniture. I lean against the desk and look at Rhys.

“You’re not going to marry Eris,” he fumes. 

“You say that like I have the option to say no,” I retort as he closes in further. 

“If you marry Eris he will destroy you from the inside out, you will become nothing but a breeding vessel to give him sons.” he tells me.

“I’m going to be the same thing to any Lord my brother marries me to,” I sneer at him. 

“That’s not true,” Rhysand shakes his head. 

“Oh really?” I scoff. 

“It wouldn’t be that way with me. You would be my wife, and my High Lady as well as my  mate. You wouldn’t have to be sexually assaulted in your own home, or barricade yourself in your room to be safe! You would have rights and freedom and you would have Cassian and Azriel and a family that loves you!” he yells passionately, getting closer to me. “And you would have me, and I would love you too.” he confesses quieter.

A tear slips from my eye as I take in all that he’s said. He looks at me from just an arms length away, waiting for me to say something back.

 “Rhysand I can’t-” I start to say. 

“Don’t you dare say that you can’t,” he says, stepping forward and caging me into the desk, his mouth dangerously close to my own. “If you were mine there’s not a person in this world that would dare to touch you. You know that.”

I feel a hand go to my waist and he uses the other to wipe the tears from my eye. A different kind of tension fills the room as his breath fans my face leaving kisses where my tears once were. 

“Rhys please,” I rasp out lightly pushing him away.  His hands on my waist tighten. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now y/n,” he says tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. He’s right, I do want him to kiss me but I can’t even form the words to ask him that. “I thought so,” he says and then his lips are on mine. 

I taste all of him and need all of him. He pulls me so close to him I think I might melt into his skin. I throw my hands around his neck like he might be ripped away from me at any given moment. I feel his hands leave my waist and fly to the desk behind me. The next thing I hear is the clattering of glass, books and paper. He lifts me up and places me on the desk positioning his frame between my legs. 

“Rhys,” I moan as his lips find my neck. 

“I love it when you say my name,” he groans into the kiss, using his body to press my back into the desk and anywhere that isn’t concealed by my dress gets goosebumps from the cold surface. “I need to taste you,” his hands travel down my body and he sinks to his kneels before me, never breaking eye contact. 

“What are you doing?” I ask earnestly. 

“Have you ever had a man touch you here?” he questions back, his hand ghosting over my clothed core, my breath hitches. 

“N-no,” I squeak. He lifts up the many layers of my skirt and bunches them around my waist. 

“And have you ever touched yourself here?” he further inquiries rubbing a hand over my undergarments. 

I’m too embarrassed to speak, I just give him a shallow nod.

“Probably while you’re reading all those dirty books right y/n darling?” he smirks loving how the pink tints my cheeks. “And do you want me to touch you here?”  

I give him another shallow nod. 

“I’m gonna need to hear words darling,” he persists. 

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly I spit out, “Yes.” 

“Yes what?” he taunts me. 

“Yes I want you to touch me there,” I whine. 

He lets loose a feral grin before I feel him gently pull down my undergarments, taking his time to let his fingertips brush down the expanse of both my legs while he does it.  He pulls then off over my heels and discards them. I watch him intently as he lowers his mouth to me and licks a long stripe clean up my pussy flicking my clit at the very top. My back arches off the desk and I let out a moan. 

“Shhh darling, we can’t have other people knowing what sinful things you’re allowing me to do to you right now. Especially poor Eris, he’ll never get to hear you moan like this for as long as he lives,” Rhys smirks before disappearing under my dress again to feast on me. 

My back arches again and my hand flies over my mouth to cover my own moan. I feel Rhysand bring one of his hands up to grasp my free one. A touch so simple, yet so intimate. His tongue swirls hungrily over my clit and it takes everything in me not to scream. I squeeze his hand tighter and he chuckles, sending a vibration through my pussy. 

You taste amazing, like you were made for me. He says into my mind. 

I squeeze his hand harder at his word. I had spent most of my life reading books about this, sex and romance. I assumed all the women writing them were exaggerating how good it could be. In the spring court it was always seen as a pleasure for the male, not the female. But the way Rhys is using his tongue on me right now, has me seeing stars which I know is no coincidence. His mouth closes around my clit suckling it. 

“Rhys,” I breathe out. 

Fuck darling. I lied, I like it when you say my name, I love it when you moan it. 

“Rhys I’m gonna,” I cry trying to keep quiet. 

Cum mate. I want you to cum all over my face. He growls into my mind. 

It was almost as if he compelled me to. My back arches off the desk for the final time and I use my hand to stifle any sound that comes out of my mouth. He works me through my orgasm and when my body stops shaking he places one final kiss over my clit. His head pops up from under my skirts, his eyes shown with satisfaction as he licks the remnants of my arousal off his lips. 

I was on him before he could even speak, pulling him by his neck and kissing him hard. I fumble for the strings on his pants and he grabs my wrist to stop me.  

“No, not tonight,” he states. I immediately feel disappointment, the sedition I felt earlier had long left me the second that man licked his lips. 

“Rhys please,” I whine. 

“As much as it makes my cock twitch to hear you beg for me, I won’t let the first time I fuck you be on Beron Vanserra’s desk.” he chuckles, and leans in close to my ear. “Because when I’m inside you for the first time my mate I want to hear every strangled cry and moan I pull from your body. And when I cum inside you for the first time I want to hear you scream my name so loud all of Prythian knows just who’s mate you are. Is that clear?” 

Butterflies hit my stomach and all I can do is nod slowly every coherent thought in my brain long gone. All I can think of is how badly I want him to make good on his promise.

“Good girl, now let's get your panties back on before a certain High Lord of Spring starts to miss you,” he smiles.

Taglist: Taglist: @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88 , @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris

#rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you

[thewryter]

Conventional

Melissa Schemmenti x Female! Lowkey Mobster! Reader

Warnings/Summary: Jealousy along with some insecurities. Italians arguing.

A/N: is this me having a new favorite redhead 🫣. Granted I just started watching Abbott Elementary so I’m still on Season 1 atm but couldn’t resist and gave it a shot. Hope y’all enjoy!

-

I was walking the halls of Abbott Elementary, (how I got in wasn’t important) bringing my girlfriend some lunch. We kinda got carried away with some morning shenanigans which resulted in her running a bit late and I know she didn’t bring anything to eat.

While the relationship between Melissa and I was fairly new, we knew each other very well. Our whole lives to be exact, but being in a relationship with one another was new and it did have its ups and downs. We’re both Italian for crying out loud, so when there was an issue it wasn’t easy for one to admit fault.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear Melissa’s laugh coming from the school’s teacher break room making me smile which is then immediately wiped off when it’s followed by a males voice. One I don’t recognize. I slow down my pace in the hall as I hear this guy flirting with my woman. I stop by the door out of sight, waiting to hear Melissa brush this buffoon off but it doesn’t come.

I then turn in to take a quiet step into the room, Melissa had her back to me but I get a good look at this guy who was chatting her up. It wasn’t a teacher that’s for sure. They continue to talk adamantly to one another, not noticing someone has entered the room.

Barbra makes eye contact with me from her seat at a table. I give her a slight nod but raise my hand when she opens her mouth to acknowledge me ultimately silencing her reluctantly and watch as Melissa digs herself in a deeper hole.

“Am I interrupting something?” I ask gruffly finally making my presence known.

Melissa whips around surprised, mouth opening then closing like a fish out water, eyes wide.

“Hon! What’re you doing here?” Melissa collects herself with a smile coming over to give me a sorta hug since I don’t lean down to reciprocate.

“Since we had a late morning you didn’t bring lunch. So I got you my pops special from the deli.” I speak to her yet not moving my gaze away from Yosemite Sam.

As she steps to the side her left hand reaches back and up to scratch the back of my nape softly, something that usually relaxes me the second she does it, which most likely is her tactic.

It doesn’t work.

“And who might you be?” The guy then asks lightly in my direction.

“Doesn’t matter.” I quip dryly.

“Y/N.”

“Oh dear lord.”

The Hulk Hogan wannabe then awkwardly chuckles.

“Well I’m-

“Didn’t ask.”

“I just-

“Don’t care.”

“Well I better get going. Enjoy your tea, Red.” The man says before making his way out with his cart walking past me.

Instincts take over as I subconsciously turn to follow him when I feel Melissa holding me back by my forearm. My body is tense along with my jaw when I turn to face her.

“What the fu-

“Not here. Not now. We’ll talk tonight.” Melissa mutters to me.

We don’t live together but for most nights out of the week I come over for dinner and spend the night at her place.

“Are you serious?” I ask taken aback at how she’s practically ordering me around.

“Y/N please.” She sighs making my jaw clench.

“I’ll see. I’m going to be working late.” My reply is cold. “Enjoy your sandwich, Red.” I add dryly handing her the plastic bag with her lunch before walking out.

“Thanks for the heads up, Barb.” Melissa huffs, going to slump down on the chair next to her while the other woman’s mouth drops slightly at how this is being turned on her.

“Well I was going to but then I thought, I want my brakes to work on my car when I’m on my way home this afternoon.” She replies not wanting to be on your bad side.

“She wouldn’t do that..to you.” Melissa mumbles the last part.

“Yet you have to admit she’s not completely in the wrong for her reaction. You should have no longer entertained Gary’s flirtations when you decided to pursue a relationship with Tony Soprano.” The other woman points out with a nod of her head while the red head rolls her eyes at the nickname.

“Look despite how ugly that might’ve looked I know how to handle this. Ain’t nothing a night of good food and good sex can’t fix.” Melissa half shrugs digging into the bag from the deli while Barbra cringes at the last bit.

But when the day is over and it’s time for dinner, you don’t show up on time.

Since you two decided to be exclusive you have always made it a point to always be on time for dinner when Melissa cooked. A sign of respect of the time she took along with her thought. She contemplates calling you or not, but her pride stops her from doing so. If you don’t want to come over that’s fine. She’s not going to force you to, but man was it lonely.

Over the years Melissa has learned the hard way to adjust to sudden changes in her life but she was already used to the routine you two had going on.

The time she spends alone nursing a glass of wine she reflects on her actions from earlier today.

It was about to be 10 in the evening and despite being tired I didn’t want to go to my lonely apartment, even if Melissa is in bed and asleep I want to share the warmth of her bed which is an odd feeling in my chest, one that might have a connection to how I reacted earlier today.

I unlock her front door with my key as quietly as I can in case she’s asleep but I’m proved wrong when I hear approaching footsteps making me look over my shoulder to see Melissa standing there, wearing one of my Eagles sweatshirts.

“Hey.” She greets me softly, the complete opposite of what I was expecting, despite the bat in hand.

“Hey.” I mumble shrugging my leather jacket off my stiff shoulders, it’s been a long day.

She then goes over to the kitchen as I walk further inside. Her back is to me as she turns on the stove, no doubt reheating dinner. It’s silent but I’m not one to beat around the bush.

“I know your pay ain’t the best but you don’t needa flirt with some dude to get a free drink.” I set my jacket aside.

“Correction. He flirted with me.”

“You think I’m fuckin’ stupid? You were eating that shit up more than my brother Joey eats tiramisu.” I scoff.

Melissa’s eyes widen at your retort. You’ve never cursed at her, well in a non intimate setting, and much less because you’re upset at her.

Oh? So this is how it’s gonna go?

“Oh I’m sorry am I not allowed to express joy or laugh?” She raises a brow, some bite in her tone.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Melissa.” I huff shaking my head.

“Who knew for a gangster you’d get so jealous.” She quips borderline amused making me whip around.

“Jealous? Me? Over that? Fat chance, especially not when some big idiot thinks he can win you over with a stupid drink. I know you, Melissa. You wouldn’t let no guy you didn’t want flirt with you. I know what we got goin’ on ain’t conventional but shit! If you wanna be with some run of the mill bootlic-

“So that’s what this is about? You think I don’t want to be with ya? Hello? If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have a key to my damn place. I wouldn’t want you over eating my food every night. And I would have never accepted when you asked me out! Kept it strictly business. Now do you want one helping or two?” She asks looking over at me expectantly with a raised brow, plate in hand.

I take a second absorbing her words.

“Two.” I mumble going over to sit on a stool at the breakfast bar.

“That’s what I thought.” She replies serving two scoops of the pasta she made and adding the sides.

“Don’t push it.” I grumble as she comes over making me lightly smack her ass while she sets the food in front of me.

She fights back a smile while cupping my face to look at her.

“Now give me a kiss. What’re you crazy? Holdin’ out on the sugar when I’ve seen you twice already and nothin.” She kisses my lips which I “reluctantly” reciprocate.

“So are you gonna fix this problem with Hulk Hogan’s bald brother or am I gonna have to kick his candy ass?” I ask not letting her try and smooch her way out of this.

“Relax Rocky. It’s an elementary school, not Wrestlemania. I see Gary for maybe 5 minutes one day a week. I see you practically every day and spend every night with you. You don’t have to worry about him ‘kay? And just please don’t do anything to mess with him. It’s nothing. Really. I’m sorry.” She insists seriously making me release a tired breath and a slight nod letting my muscles relax under her touch.

“Now eat so you can go shower. You smell like an ashtray.” She then presses a gentle kiss against my temple while I nod before digging in what’s in front of me.

Yeah sure we have our issues, but we make it work.

-

Next Morning

Melissa wakes up alone, it’s unusual but it still happens sometimes when you have to handle work early in the morning so she doesn’t think anything of it despite what happened yesterday and gets ready for work like normal.

As she gets to the school she fumbles through her keys to get the one for her room when she notices the door is already open, making her walk a step faster.

“Easy. I don’t want none of her stuff outta place, capisce?” I instructed the two men who were moving things around.

“Good morning.” I hear making me turn around to see Melissa.

“You’re early.” I smile.

“Well yeah, without your distractions I was on time.” She chortles lowering her purse from over her shoulder and sets it down on one of her students desks.

“You love my distractions.” I smirk crossing my arms over my chest to which she only hums in response before returning her attention to what’s happening behind me.

“What’s all this?”

“Well since your room is pretty far from the teachers break room. I thought it would be convenient for you to have a personal fridge in your room. I even got you started with some snacks, water-

“Tea.” Melissa cuts in knowingly as she eyes the cases of raspberry tea set off to the side.

“Well would you look at that? I guess it made it into the mix.” I look over as well.

“Hon?”

“Yeah?” I turn to her and I’m met with her lips against mine in a quick kiss.

“Love ya.” She smiles against my lips.

“And I’m going to pretend this is a random act of kindness from my loving girlfriend.” She sighs lightly walking over to get a better look.

“Cause it is!” I shrug amused.

“Mhm yeah sure. Now, y’all gotta go. Imma miss the news.” She then says.

“You heard her. Business is done here.” I tell them with a simple nod towards the door.

As the guys walk away they mimic whipped noises making me curse after them in Italian.

“They’re not wrong, hon.” Melissa wraps her arms around my neck with a smirk.

I don’t deny it.

“I’ll see ya tonight?” She adds and I can’t help but grin.

“You know it baby.” I smack her ass playfully on my way out quickly dodging the hand she lightly swung my way.

Melissa looks back over at what was set up behind her desk, a genuine smile spreading across her lips at what you would do for her.

Yup. This is as conventional as it would get for her, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you