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constantinerkives · 10 months

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PAIRING: Hotel Magnate! Yoo Jimin x College student! Fem reader _____________ WARNINGS: Sugar Mommy AU, college AU, age gap, OC is in her final year of college while YJM is 34, profanity, strangers to paramours, Chopard and Cannes Film Festival Karina, good lord. OC has a slight crush on the dean lmao. OC short-circuits when pretty, older women talk to her. Smut, oral (K receiving), strap-on sex (reader receiving), Dom! Karina, mommy kink, OC ain't a virgin, riding, rough sex, cock-warming, or was it strap-warming? (IDK, but you catch my drift, yeah?), shower sex, multiple sex scenes, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of a vibrator, pool sex, biting, marking, fingering, that's pretty much it, I think. _____________ WORDCOUNT: 14.7K Sorry, this was self-indulgent yall, my bad💀🤩 _____________ A/N:

You asked; I shall deliver. Oh - and please see the header for synopsis and turn on your sound hehe.

"Ning Yizhou, what the fuck-"

"Shut up and listen, will you?" She cuts you off with a glare and turns her MacBook screen towards you. "You need this."

You clamp your mouth shut and allow the younger girl to continue. The ash-blonde girl takes a seat across from you and shows you a site from the internet. You sit before the latter with the pads of your fingers tapping against your thighs. Ningning observes you warily before knotting her fingers together. "After hearing your rants for months about how the school's kicking both your ass and wallet, I propose a solution."

"By being a sugar baby," You snort. She shoots you a silencing look. "Let me finish, Y/N."

She shows you her profile, "This website is safe, and it strictly monitors the chats of both parties. It is consensual and beneficial for person A and person B." She then shows you her chat with her sponsor; the profile read: Uchinaga Giselle. If your memory serves you correctly, she is the managing director of AE Industries, a definition of young, rich, and beautiful. "Woah, your sugar mommy is Giselle?"

Ningning's lips curl to a smirk, "Focus, Y/N. Have you read our conversation?"

"Yes," Your eyes skim the chat, "It's respectful and direct."

"Exactly," She grins and closes her MacBook. "Not all stories involving a life like this are scary, Y/N." Your friend presses a palm against her chest, "Like me, for example."

"Yeah, yeah," You sigh and lower your head, "I don't know, Ning." Her features soften as her hand reaches yours, her thumb rubbing comforting circles against the back of your palm.

"Some sugar mommies or daddies want to fill the void of being rich Y/N. Some want to soothe their overbearing parents, and some just have too much fucking money. They're mature and won't force you to do something you're not comfortable with for the sake of being spoiled in return."

You contemplated for a moment before curling your lips to a smile. "Fuck it, Ning. I'm in." Your friend grins and opens her MacBook. "Leave your profile to me, Y/N. And pick a dress you'll be using for the ceremony. You need to look fresh for tomorrow." Right. Before this discussion with Ningning, you received an email from Hanyang University that you're a dean's lister for the second semester.

"Thanks, Ning." You stand from the table and make your way to her room.

"Y/N!" Minjeong squeals upon seeing your familiar figure as more awardees enter the venue, "I'm relieved! I thought I was going to be alone with strangers for the ceremony."

"Not anymore," You grin and crane your neck to examine the students on the premises. "Are we the only ones from our block?"

She follows your example and hums, "Seems like it, and - oh shit, the dean's heading this way!" You snap your head and lock eyes with the dean of your department. An automatic smile curls on your lips as you acknowledge her presence by bowing your head. "Miss Kim, Seol," The older woman greets with her slender digits knotted atop her stomach.

"Good evening, Miss Bae." You greet in return. Bae Joohyun, professionally known as Irene Bae, is the dean of your department. The woman couldn't be older than forty, fair-skinned, doe-shaped eyes framing sharp, intelligent obsidian-hued pupils, an upturned nose, a small face, and pink, plump lips. The dean is sporting a mint blue suit and white heels, and her long black hair tied in a low ponytail. The older woman's lips curl upward, "I see that it's only the two of you again from your block," She comments while you and Minjeong look at each other, uncertain. "And I'm impressed," Irene adds. You glow under her praise, "Thank you, Miss Bae."

The latter hums, "Do enjoy the celebration."

With that, she walks past you and Winter. You caught a whiff of the older woman's scent and let out a blissful sigh as you stagger. "Damn," Winter exhales as her head follows the older woman's slender figure, "If she wasn't the dean, I don't mind being smashed by her."

"Agree," You giggled as you watched the older woman interact with her faculty. "I guess I have a reason to study my ass off."

Then your stomach churns uncomfortably as an unpleasant thought voices your concern.

That is if you have the money to enroll for the final semester.

Blood drains from your body, and your smile drops. "I should find a job that should sustain me." You mutter under your breath as another feminine voice interjects: "Minjeong!" You snap from your reverie and raise your head. You spot Chaewon standing next to Yunjin and Ryujin; gesturing a hand to Winter, who looks at you with a small smile, "I'll hang around with them, yeah?" Her tone indicates permission, and you snort at her. "You don't need to ask for my approval, Winter. Go."

The latter guffaws and pats your shoulder, "Have a nice evening, Y/N." With that, she leaves to join the group.

You sigh, and your posture droops as your eyes scour your surroundings. Your vision dims at the sight of extravagance oozing from your peers and faculty. You clench and unclench your hands to calm your racing nerves before the voices behind your head speak up: You don't belong here.

And you painfully agree. How the hell did you manage to keep up?

"Excuse me, miss," Your ears perk upon hearing an unfamiliar deep yet feminine voice. Sultry and alluring. "But have you seen Joohyun?"

Joohyun? Your brows furrow. How can someone say the dean's name so casually?

You turn in the direction of the stranger, and your eyes subtly widen at the sight of the towering beauty behind you. Your eyes take in her appearance. Her long black hair was styled; slid back, allowing you to have a good glimpse at her smooth, fair countenance, familiar doe-shaped eyes framing those sharp, intelligent hazel-colored crevices. You mentally pick your jaw from the floor.

"Joohyun?" Your voice came out as a squeak, and you fought the urge to palm your face. "You mean our dean?"

A playful grin curls on her plump lips, "Yes," Her hazel-colored eyes scour your features, "And my," She purrs, "Aren't you a beauty?" Your cheeks warmed as the woman continued: "I should count myself lucky for asking a pretty girl like you." A subtle shade of pink dust your cheeks as you clear your throat softly, "Thank you," You muse as you shift your weight from one foot to another. "How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for-"

"Karina," Your posture straightens upon hearing her authoritative voice. Irene takes a stand beside you. Her face turns in your direction with slight surprise before she regains her calm countenance and returns her gaze to the said stranger: Karina.

"I see that you've met one of my students," The dean gestures a hand towards the raven-haired beauty. "Y/N, meet my..." She trails off before Karina's lips release a deep chuckle, shivers run down your spine, and your stomach churns at the sound. "Don't be shy now, Hyunnie."

Hyunnie?

Karina holds out her hand for you to shake, "I'm Karina Bae, her half-sister. And you are?"

Half-sister?

That explains the familiar features, and if you have to compare the two of them by age, Karina seems to be ten years younger than the older woman next to you. But still, both women are drop-dead gorgeous. They won the battle of genes.

"Seol Y/N," You reply in a trance as you reach to shake her hand, expecting a handshake, but she surprises you by bringing it up to brush her mouth against your knuckles, a shock traveling up your arm at the contact. Her eyes never leave yours, and you hold your breath, afraid you'll do something embarrassing if you do. Hopefully, your face doesn't show how the action flustered you. You gawk at her as she releases your hand.

"A pleasure, Y/N." Your body glows at the way her tongue smoothly caresses your name. It's embarrassing how quick you are to succumb to the younger Bae. You instinctively look away from her raving eyes as the dean clears her throat.

"Easy, Karina." The dean chides, "She's my student,"

A heart-throbbing smile graces Karina's lips, "Anyways," She raises a paper bag. Was she holding something all this time? How come you didn't notice? "As you can see, sister. I just returned from France," The hazel-eyed beauty hands it to her, "And I bought a present."

You eye the two of them, feeling as though you're intruding on a moment between the siblings. Irene's lips curl upwards and takes the paperbag, "You shouldn't have, Karina. Is that why you came here?"

"Of course," Karina grins, "I can't come back to my alma mater empty-handed now, can I?"

"Thank you, Karina."

The latter merely hums in reply, "I'll get going now. There's no need for me to stay if a party lacks drinks." She grins while Irene rolls her eyes. "It's protocol,"

"Sure," Karina turns to you, "Take care, Miss Seol."

Perhaps she was waiting for you to hold your hand out again, but your brain decided that risking another touch from this gorgeous woman would have undesirable consequences. A wave sufficed for now.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Karina."

You were wrong. Karina doesn't even have to touch you to get you woozy. Her wolfish smirk was enough to make your knees wobble. She departs, leaving your eyes to follow her lithe physique.

"I apologize on her behalf," The older Bae announces, and you move your gaze to her. You gulped. "She isn't usually like this. Perhaps staying in Paris rewired her behavior." You shake your head sideways, "It's fine Miss Bae. Have a wonderful evening," You tell her before bowing and departing from the dean.

Ningning automatically bombards you with her findings while you are at the ceremony.

"So your account has been receiving DMs," She grins with pride beaming in her delicate features as she slides you a takeout from her favorite fast-food chain, "All you have to do is to go through it with a fine-tooth comb and take your pick." She slides the MacBook in your direction, and your eyes widen at the number of requests.

"Woah," You mumble, feeling overwhelmed. Your friend catches on and sits next to you. "You don't have to make a choice overnight. You can scour it whenever you're free."

And that's what you did.

You spent your lunchtime and break times scouring the site for your potential benefactor.

For days, no one caught your eye, until a woman popped up on your screen.

Yoo Jimin

You clicked on her profile, half of her face was hidden, but those plump lips, the lighting, and the prominent collarbones beneath the lapels of her blazer pulled you to dig deeper into her account. You press the photo where she is leaning her back against the gold railing of Hotel Olympia. Jimin was wearing a form-fitting black dress showing off her slender figure. On her hand was a champagne glass and the closest glimpse of her side profile; absolute perfection. You let out a huff and close your eyes to steel your nerves before typing:

Hello

"Ning, what are we doing here?" You inquire the younger girl as she drags you into Givenchy's boutique, the employees eyeing you warily as the latter scrutinizes the boutique before looking at you with a familiar smile.

"We're shopping for your outfit next week," If your face showed surprise, you hid it poorly. You lean close to whisper against Ningning's ear. "In here?"

The ash-blonde shoots you a look. "Duh?"

"It's expensive!"

"It's fine-"

"What can I do for you ladies?" Ningning turns to the employee and smiles, "I made an appointment three hours ago under Giselle Uchinaga's name." The older woman hums as your friend continues, "Send us your best attires for a date night for my friend-" She gestures a hand towards you, "What's your size?"

You gawk at her as the employee looks at you expectantly, "Uhm-"

"Tell her," Ningning commands, the look on her face gave no heed to protests.

You blurt out your size, and the lady nods and turns to your friend, "We'll look for her size. In the meantime do enjoy the private suite located to the left corner of our store." She gestures an open palm to one of the five private booths. Ningning seemed pleased by the suggestion and thanked the woman before grasping your wrist and dragging you to your assigned booth.

"Yizhou-"

"If you're worried about paying back, don't worry about it." She cuts you off as she grabs one of Givenchy's brochures presented on the table. "Besides," She tears her gaze from the material, "You need to look presentable for your meeting with your sugar mommy."

You purse your lips. After interacting with your benefactor for two days, you finally agreed to meet to discuss the nature of your relationship with her. She gave you the freedom to dress in whatever clothing you want, so long as you'll style it with a white scarf. That way, she'd be able to identify you and not cause any misunderstanding. Ningning pats a spot next to her on the velvet couch, "Be comfortable, Y/N. I'm here."

"This is new territory to me, Nings." You confess while rubbing your nape. The younger girl's expression softens as you sit next to her. The ash-blonde-haired girl drapes a slender arm around your shoulders. "You don't have to pay me back, Y/N." She tells you solemnly, "I take pleasure in knowing that you'll look good in your first meeting because I was there to ensure that you'll give a good impression. Now don't worry about the price tags. Gigi is aware and is willing to extend her generosity because she knows I'm friends with you, and we've been together through thick and thin."

"Gigi?" You teased with a smile, and she winked at you. Before she can say anything else, there's a knock on the double doors.

You fix your posture as your friend tells them to come in.

On cue, three women entered the room. Two of them were delicately guiding the cloth rack inside while one pushed a tray of shoes, bags, and accessories. Your jaw slacks at the collection.

"These are our finest collections," One of them declares with a smile, "Feel free to choose which ones you like." Without another word, they exit the booth, leaving you and your friend alone. "Okay," Ningning stands from her couch and approaches the dresses and takes one that caught her eye, and presents it to you. "Try this one first."

After trying on different types of attires for an excruciating hour, you found a dress you and Ningning agree on.

"Finally!" She grins as she circles you, inspecting the dress. You stare at your reflection, unable to recognize the lady in the mirror. It's a black, leather one-shoulder draped dress; it hugs your body perfectly. "It goes well when your hair is down." She notes and looks at the shoes, "Okay. Let's try shoes."

Unlike the dresses, the shoes were easier to match with your dress: Voyou slingbacks, or just quintessential black leather heels. The same goes for the small pouch just for your phone and cash to take you to Hotel Olympia, the destination of your first meeting.

"Perfect," Ningning awes, "This will be your look for your meeting." She locks eyes with your reflection, "Do you like it?"

"Yes," You breathe, and she claps her hands in delight. "We're taking it." The latter then eyes at the accessories, "One last!" She snatches a white silk twill scarf with beveled ends and styles it around your neck.

Now you don't recognize the girl in the mirror. You eye her with awe as you run a free hand from the top of your neck; down to your chest. The reflection inclines her head to the side.

You are going to be this girl next week, and you can only hope that your attire alone can coax your potential benefactor to sponsor you.

The ride from Hanyang University to Hotel Olympia is twenty minutes.

Upon entering the hotel, the biting chill nips your skin, eliciting a shudder from you, and with your free hand, you rub your bare arm. No one seems to mind your presence.

"Should've brought a jacket," You shudder, and a voice behind your head interjects:

But as if any of your jackets can match your attire.

A snort leaves your lips as you scour the lobby of the hotel.

Hotel Olympia is the largest hotel group in all of Korea with Lotte trailing behind them. Your eyes scour the area for the front desk and lock eyes with the hotel receptionist. With a smile, you approach the employee.

"Good evening, miss." She greets, "Is there anything you need?"

"Yes," You clear your throat to steel your nerves while your feet tap against the polished marble floors. "Can you point me to Bicena Olympia?"

She fixes her posture and gestures a palm towards one of the double doors to your left. "Through that door." You follow the direction of her hand and bow at the older woman, "Thank you." Shuddering, you enter Bicena Olympia: the restaurant of Hotel Olympia: white, clean walls, cloud-like chandeliers, polished saddle-brown floorboards, and elegant yet comfortable furniture; to add life to the restaurant: it's decorated with carefully selected plants and priceless paintings. Guests from all over the country fill the walls of the restaurant with hushed chatter, laughter, the cluttering of utensils, and the clinking of champagne glasses.

"Excuse me, miss." One of the restaurant's staff approaches you. A man, no older than twenty-five, sporting a neatly pressed suit. His hair: gelled and slid back. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Oh, yes - for Miss Yoo."

The gentleman nods, and folds his hands behind his back, "Follow me." He turns and strides toward one of the vacant tables - you follow behind him as he pulls out a seat for you. "Thank you," You tell the man before he bows and returns to his podium.

According to Jimin, she'll be joining you shortly. She's caught up in a meeting. You take this opportunity to fix your appearance via your phone's camera.

From the entrance of Bicena Olympia, there emerged a woman no older than thirty-four, wearing a black long Cady dress with a plunging neckline, exposing the valley of her breast down to an inch above her navel and white heels. Her hair is styled straight and loose, and at the base of her neck lay a single gold chain necklace, emphasizing her prominent collarbones. Her right hand secures a shoulder bag, while the other, a neatly pressed, double-breasted tailored coat with red lapels.

Her hazel-colored eyes scour the restaurant, looking for a college girl with a white scarf.

Your nails tap against the tablecloth as you wait patiently for your date, ignoring the biting chill that keeps brushing against your skin. You felt a presence behind you, wondering if it's a waiter you crane your neck - only to be stopped when you feel someone draping a thick piece of cloth over your shoulders. Hands grasping your shoulders delicately.

"Oh-"

"Thank you for waiting, darling." Your skin tingles as you look up, pupils dilating, jaw-slacking as a familiar woman with hazel-colored eyes locks with yours; they light up with mirth as her plump, red lips curl to a bemused smile.

"You," You breathe, inhaling her subtle but expensive perfume. The scent is so intoxicating and warm. With notes of coffee, white flowers, and vanilla, it's the perfect mix of sexy and sweet. It suits her.

"Good evening to you too, Miss Seol." Karina chuckles deeply. Your stomach twinges blissfully at the sound as you shift beneath her intense gaze. Oh, wait - she remembers your name? Oh, lord.

"Good evening, Karina." You stammer as one of her hands plays with your scarf. She hums absentmindedly and takes a seat across from you and as she did, your eyes shamelessly follow her graceful physique.

Holy shit, she looks hot-

"This is a pleasant surprise," Karina starts as she knots her fingers together and shoots you a playful smile. Your cheeks dust pink. "I didn't expect to see Joohyun's pretty student so soon."

And you didn't expect to have your potential benefactor as your dean's half-sister, either. Shit.

"And I you, Yoo Jimin." You counter and mirror her smile. The older woman guffaws, but you didn't miss her eyes wandering from your face to your attire, and your skin tingles at her attention. "You look wonderful, Y/N." She puts her bag to the side of the table. "Are you hungry?"

Your stomach growls, and your cheeks flush as you sheepishly rub the back of your neck. "Yes - I'm hungry."

A knowing smile graces the older girl's lips as she directs her gaze to the person behind you and nods. "Dinner's on me, Y/N. Order what you like."

A waiter immediately comes to her and distributes the menu. Karina swiftly opens it, her hazel eyes scouring her options before looking up at the waiter. "I'll take a steakhouse-style ribeye." She shifts her gaze toward you, "And for the lady?"

Your lips swiftly moved the meal that Ningning suggested for you to order:

"I'll take the balsamic-and-rosemary-marinated florentine steak." An approving look dances on the older woman's face as the waiter jots it. "How about your drinks?"

Karina looks at you, beckoning you to order first.

"A cranberry mocktail," The waiter nods and turns his attention to the other woman, "And as for you, President Bae?"

Hold on a minute - president?

"A Sauvignon Blanc," A grin breaks from the waiter's lips, "Excellent choice, President Bae." He takes a step back. "I'll come back with your orders in approximately 40 minutes." Without another word, the man bows and strides away from your table.

"President?" You muse as a smirk creeps on the latter's lips. "Surprise, surprise." Karina picks up her empty wine glass and examines it. You watch her intently. "I'm sure you have questions." Her eyes suddenly dart back to you, and your skin crawls. "Ask ahead, darling."

You purse your lips, "The waiter called you president," You tread carefully, "Are you, by chance, the president of Hotel Olympia?"

"Clever girl," She purrs, and you shrink in your seat, "Yes, Y/N. I'm the president of Hotel Olympia." Damn.

She gestures for you to ask again. You clear your throat, "The name you used in your account, why use Yoo Jimin?"

Karina hums, "Yoo Jimin was the name my mother initially thought of before Irene's father changed it. They still let me keep it for casual occasions that aren't related to business."

Your lips form to an 'o' as Karina leans close, "Is that all?"

"Yes,"

"If that's the case," She puts down her empty wine glass, "What about you, Y/N?"

A playful smile tugs your lips, "What do you want to know?"

"Your information, likes, dislikes."

You followed through with her request, telling her everything she has to know, and the woman paid attention to every word you said. And it feels odd having someone like her listen to a girl of your caliber.

"-I'll sponsor you," She finalizes.

You gape at her, "Really?"

"Of course, princess." You nearly threw yourself out of the chair as your hands gripped your purse as she continued:

"You're a catch, Y/N." She admits with honesty brewing in her eyes, "And something tells me that you're someone who must be kept at high maintenance. And I'm here for it. You chose me out of all the women out there, and you chose well."

Your face warms at her praise as Karina leans close, "So, pretty girl, will you be mine to spoil in return for your time?"

And who are you to deny her?

"Yes," You breathily answer, and the older woman approves with a wolfish grin. "Perfect,"

And speaking of perfect-

"Excuse me, President Bae." The waiter returns with a tray of your ordered steaks. The older woman leans back, giving them space as they distribute your meal and your drinks. Setting it down on the table, he straightened up, but not without opening the wine and pouring it into her wine glass.

"Do enjoy your meal,"

"Wait," Karina held up her hand, halting the server before reaching into her bag. Sliding a small roll of bills out, he pulled at least five of them free to hand over. "Thank you, President Bae." Judging by the way his smile brightened, it must've been an enormous amount as the server bows deeply before leaving.

Karina snaps you back to reality by motioning to your plate. "Dig in, sweetheart, and if you want to eat anything else, speak up - it's all on me." She grins as she picks up her glass by the stem and swirls it. You watch as the liquid sloshes while the woman inhales her wine before taking light sips and releasing a sigh of contentment. Noticing your stare, she snaps her gaze to yours. You quickly look away with pink dusting your cheeks, and the older woman's lips curl to a smirk. "Say, do you have plans this weekend?"

You bring your attention back to her, recounting your plans and finding none.

"No, I don't have plans this weekend, Karina." You blink, "May I ask why?"

"You'll see," The raven-haired beauty grins, "Enjoy your dinner, Y/N."

Your jaw slacks upon stopping before the boutique of Patek Philippe. Karina stands beside you and puts her hand on the small area of your back. Despite her coat hanging on your shoulders, a mild shiver runs down your spine. "Come, Y/N." She beckons gently as she leads you inside the boutique.

You stand there while the retail clerk and your benefactor talk, unsure of what to contribute to their discussion, and finally, the sales clerk gestures a hand towards the three models displayed inside a glass casing.

"There are only three of them in the world," She proudly begins, "And it just so happens that our branch won all three of them in the auction, President Bae." Karina turns to you with a kind smile, "Pick whatever you want, sweetheart."

The sales clerk expectantly looks at you. You snap your head to the display of watches before looking back at Karina, "Is this okay with you?"

"Consider this a sign of our beneficial partnership, darling." She goes behind you. Your breath hitches as her snake past the coat and traverses to your waist, delicate yet firm as she presses her front against your back. Karina drops her voice an octave lower, sending goosebumps trailing in her wake as she husks:

"So choose,"

Fuck, you bite your lower lip, trying to focus while the older woman's hands rest on your hips, gently squeezing them.

"That one," You stammer as you point to the two-toned watch. The older woman smirks from behind as she moves to the side, leaving your back cold and aching for her warmth. "Excellent choice, miss." The sales clerk grins before shifting her gaze to your benefactor. "I'll just prepare some paperwork, and then she can wear it."

It didn't take long for the transaction to be processed. By the time the three of you reached the counter, Karina pulled out her wallet. You watch, as her well-manicured hand gracefully takes out a JP Morgan Reserve credit card made of laser-etched palladium and gold and hands it to the register. Seconds later, Karina's sitting while the retail clerk assists you with the watch.

"There you go," The clerk beams while you study the accessory.

Patek Philippe reinterprets the design of its most complicated wristwatch by offering it for the first time in a "two-tone" version combining white gold and rose gold, along with brown opaline dials. The watch is accompanied by white gold cufflinks featuring a brown opaline center adorned with a hand-guilloched hobnail pattern and a rose gold Calatrava cross.

It's beautiful, elegant, and practical.

"What do you think, Y/N?" You turn to the latter and smile warmly at her with gratitude swimming in your eyes. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Karina."

The wealthy woman returns your smile and stands up. She holds out her arm for you, beckoning for you to intertwine your hand on her arm, and you happily indulge her as she leads you to the exit with the clerk trailing behind and bowing as you two leave the store. You examine the watch again with a small smile dancing on your lips.

"Beautiful," Karina praises, and you tear your eyes from your watch and lock eyes with the hazel-eyed beauty. "Yeah, it is beautiful."

"I mean you," She grins, and your cheeks warmed. "But yes, I agree the watch is beautiful."

Bemused, you asked her: "Are you this flirty with someone you just met?"

The older woman shakes her head sideways, "No, pretty girl." You freeze as she reaches to brush a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "I meant what I said."

Eyes wide like a dear caught in headlights, your face flushes, and you clear your throat as you step back. Karina smirks, amused by your reaction, before looking at her wristwatch.

"Oh, my," She returns her gaze to you. "Didn't you say that the university dorm closes at 10 PM?"

"Yes," Your stomach drops as you instinctively look at the time.

9:35 PM

"Shit," You mutter under your breath.

"I'll drive you there," She chimes as she reaches for her bag. "I'll call my secretary."

Before you can say anything, she already has her secretary on the line.

"Yes, we'll drive her back to Hanyang University." Karina turns to you, "It isn't safe for her to return there alone. Yes, we'll meet by the entrance of the hotel, have the car ready." With that, she ends the call and turns to you, and raises her arm, as if to escort you. "Come, Y/N. Our ride awaits."

Elated, you intertwine your arm with hers as she leads you to the entrance of the Hotel Olympia's building, where a sleek black Rolls-Royce car is waiting with a short-haired brunette no older than twenty-seven leaning against the passenger door.

"Good evening, Miss Bae." The secretary turns her head to you and regards you with a bow. "Miss Seol."

Karina opens the passenger door for you. "Let's go, darling."

Twenty-three minutes later, Karina's car parked near the entrance of the university dorm.

"Thanks again, Karina." You bashfully tell her as you take the coat off your shoulders and hand it back to her. The older woman takes it with a smile while her secretary focuses her eyes in front. And just before you open the door, your eyes widen as your body numbs as you turn to her, Karina tilts her head, her gorgeous face contorts with curiosity. "What is it, darling? Did you forget something?"

"No," You clear your throat, "No. I forgot to ask this earlier, but, what about your sister?"

She quirks a brow, bemused. "What about her, sweetheart?"

"What if she finds out?"

The older woman exhales softly and scooches next to you as she puts her hand behind your back. A mild shiver couldn’t help but run down your spine, thanks to her fingertips gliding along your exposed skin. You almost forgot that your dress was semi-backless.

"I'll still sponsor you, darling." Her lips curl upward, "Our arrangement doesn't concern her. We're consenting adults aren't we?"

You nod in agreement and she pats your back gently, "Good. Oh, and before I forget, send me your bank account and other apps you use for monetary transactions in the morning, yeah?"

"I will," A grin escapes your lips as she retracts her hand, and you open the passenger door, but before closing it, Karina calls out to you.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

"Yes?" You breathe as she leans close enough for you to see her lashes, "Have a nice evening. I had fun."

"You too," You lean away, "I had fun too." When you finally close the door, you turn away from the vehicle and stride toward your dorm with a smile that is raised on its own on your lips.

You curse as your phone pings with notifications of Karina sending you $50,000.

"Woah," Ningning grins as she leans away with you as more students file through the lecture hall. "Told you it worked like a charm!" You mirror her grin as she playfully swats your arm and drops her voice to a whisper. "So, who is she?"

You drop your head, "The Hotel Magnate of Hotel Olympia."

The latter's jaw slacked, "Karina?" She blinks, "As in Karina Bae? The half-sister of our dean?"

"Hush!"

She gasps, "Holy shit, Y/N. What if her sister finds out?"

You rest the side of your face against your palm while the other hand toys with your pen. "She said she'll still sponsor me," A small smile curves your lips as you look at Ningning as you repeat Karina's words from last night:

"Our arrangement doesn't concern her. We're consenting adults, aren't we?"

The latter hums as she takes out her MacBook, "So are you guys exclusive or?" Your brows furrowed. Come to think of it...you look down at your watch. "I don't know. I didn't specify." The ash-blonde-haired girl hums, "It's safe to assume that you are unless you clarify it." She boots up her device and frowns as your peer's chatter amplifies.

"Professor Jung is late."

Your brows raise as you turn to the vacant teacher's table, "That's a first."

Ningning shrugs, "Doesn't matter. We have free time - wanna grab a coffee-"

"Settle down students!" An authoritative voice booms inside the lecture hall, immediately silencing them. Your body bristles as the dean's slender figure enters the classroom sporting a matching black pleat short jacket and slit skirt that reaches below her knees and black heels.

"Holy shit," Ningning snickers as she turns to look at you while the dean puts her clicker atop the desk. "Since Professor Jung is dealing with a personal emergency, I will teach in his stead." She raises her head, and your eyes lock with hers for a brief moment.

Your posture stiffens as she turns her body towards you, "Miss Seol, tell me, what was your last discussion with Mr. Jung?"

Your friend nudges her elbow against yours. You shoot her a look before standing up while she hides her smile as you inform Irene of your last discussion with the professor.

"Very well," She turns and clicks on the projector, "Thank you, Miss Seol. Be seated."

An inaudible sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sit down. Your friend leans close to you with a shit-eating grin as she whispers:

"Chill, Y/N, you look like a sinner sweating inside a church."

You nudge her side and hiss quietly at her: "Shut up." she just stuck her tongue out to you and you roll your eyes at her in response as the dean's voice fills the lecture hall, continuing Professor Jung's lesson.

Thirty minutes in, and your phone vibrates inside your pocket. You sneakily take a peek to see who it was:

Karina

And she was asking if you want to have lunch with her if you're not busy.

You're not

You fought the urge to smile as you reply with yes.

She'll pick you up ten minutes after your class with the dean.

"Gigi invited me to have lunch with her," Ningning says as she gathers her things. "That means you have to find a replacement for me as your lunch buddy."

"It's fine," You tell her as you pack your things and sling them over your new bag. "Karina invited me to have lunch with her too."

"Nice," The latter grins. "So, see you after lunch?"

"See you after lunch."

"Oh," She snaps her head back to you. "Don't forget to ask if your arrangement is exclusive or not!"

A chuckle rumbles in your chest, "I will." And you make your separate ways.

"Your sister will see you," You mused as you approach the older woman who was leaning against her Bentley.

Karina pushed her Hugo sunglasses to her hair, giving her luscious locks a slid-back look. The raven-haired woman was wearing a black brushed ribbed-knit top with matching tailored sailor pants and boots. The fit complimented her lithe body. On the base of her neck is a golden chain necklace.

The older woman grins as you stand a few feet away from her. "You make it sound like I'm your paramour."

A small smile dances on your lips, "You just got off from work?"

"It's a slow day today at the office," Her hazel-colored eyes run down your body, "And I see that you got yourself a new look."

You look down at your attire: white, monogram Jacquard cropped jeans, a plain white shirt, and ankle boots, all from Loius Vui, just like the attire of Karina.

"Needed a fresh look," You tell her as you check out your attire. "You like it?"

"It suits you," She smiled before opening the passenger door for you. "Shall we get lunch?"

"Well, isn't this a surprise," Karina mused while you and Ningning gaped at each other with her arm draped around who you presume is her benefactor: Giselle who's wearing a two-piece red suit and black heels.

"Karina," Giselle regards before looking at you and smiling, "Y/N."

Your benefactor turns to you, surprised. "You know each other?"

"We're friends," Ningning interjects, "I'm roommates with Y/N. Giselle knows her through me."

"I see,"

"Be seeing you two," The conglomerate looks at her sugar baby, "Let's go to our table." Before separating, Ningning sends you a wave while Karina leads you to your designated table with her hand pressed against the small area of your back.

"Here you go, darling." She pulls out a seat for you before sitting across from you. "Order what you like. It's on me." She winks before a waiter comes and distributes the menu.

"So," You clear your throat as soon as you say your orders to the waiter. Karina inclines her head to the side, waiting for you to continue. "Are we exclusive?"

The raven-haired woman arched a brow, and her expression hardens. "Do you plan on cheating on me if I say no?"

"What," You sputter as your arms frantically wave as if saying no. "No, I mean - I was just clarifying-"

"Yes," Karina's features soften with mirth, "Yes, darling. We're exclusive, so relax."

"Oh," Your cheeks flush.

"Why? Are you seeing someone?"

"No," You squeak. Your face burns as you clear your throat and straighten your posture as you repeat your answer: "No."

"Very well," She toys with her utensils, and a wolfish smirk plays on her plump lips. "Has anyone told you that you look cute when you're flustered?"

Your face flushes, "No,"

"Then I'm the first," After some time, she drove you back to Hanyang University fifteen minutes before your next class begins.

"Thanks for the lunch," You tell the older woman as she brings you to the other entrance of the University. The latter hums, "My pleasure," Karina then clicks her tongue, "And Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"A little bird told me that you guys have a year-end party next week," Karina begins, "And that you'll have a three-day vacation after that due to the preparations for your university week, correct?"

"Yes," You confirm as you shift your weight on your other foot. "Why's that?"

The hazel-eyed beauty tilts her head sideways, "I was wondering if you'd like to spend those days with me in Japan. I have a business convention in one of my hotels in Tokyo." She tells you with her arms folded behind her back.

A vacation with a drop-dead gorgeous woman? How could you say no to her when she's asking you so nicely?

"I'd love to," You beam at her, and her features glow.

"Wonderful. You have plenty of time to prepare until then..." She trails off as she approaches you and takes your hand.

You incline your head to the side, watching her with intent before your eyes widen, your cheeks dust pink, and your skin tingles as she presses her lips against the knuckles of your fingers.

"Be seeing you," Karina whispers as she lets go. But before you enter the main building, your sugar mommy calls out your name.

"Yes?"

"Call me 'Jimin' next time we meet," She graces you with an award-winning smile. "'Karina' sounds cold coming from you, darling. So call me Jimin instead."

"Okay then, Jimin."

With that, you enter the main building.

"Woah," Ningning snorts, "She invited you to a business convention with her in Tokyo?"

You hum as you browse through a fine selection of clothing.

"In Tokyo?" Your friend repeats, and you give her a look, "Yeah? What about it?"

"Oh, nothing," She leans against the pillar and smirks, "It's just that you two seem to hit it off, I guess." You spare a glance at her, "Why? Did Aeri invite you to a vacation with her?"

"Yep,"

A snort leaves your nostrils, "Then that makes two of us."

"Yeah," She concedes with a sigh as she begins to look for her new clothes. "You're right. What was the theme of our year-end party again?"

"Las Vegas-esque," You click your tongue, "I don't know, as long as we dress like the people attending casinos, we're fine."

"So, we're supposed to dress like sluts, then?"

You and Ningning snap your heads at each other before letting out a laugh. "No!" You rebutted, "We're supposed to dress like new money or something."

"Oh," She bobs her head, "Right."

"If you want to look like someone who goes to a casino," A steely, feminine voice interjects. You and Ningning straighten your backs as you slowly turn around to face Irene Bae, the dean of your college department.

"I suggest you wear semi-formal attire." She turns her gaze to your friend. "And not dress inappropriately, Miss Ning Yizhou."

"Good afternoon, Miss Bae." You and your friend say in unison as you bow to her. "At ease, ladies."

"Sorry about that, Miss Bae." The ash-blonde hair sheepishly remarks before the dean softens her sharp features with a small smile. "I see that you've already chosen your attire, Ningning." She moves her head in your direction, causing you to lock eyes with obsidian-hued crevices. Your back feels as if someone brushed a cold hand against your skin.

"What about you, Miss Seol?"

"Oh," You sputter as you feel small beneath her gaze. "I haven't picked one yet, Miss Bae."

The older woman hums, "If I may," She strides forward. Both you and Ningning instinctively make way for the older woman as she picks an outfit for you: A oversized, double-breasted jacket in vinyl leather and a gold belt. But despite that, you focus on her proximity and how her subtle but expensive perfume fills your nostrils. Intoxicating.

"Try these," She coaxes, "But this is only my suggestion, Miss Seol."

You tentatively take it from the latter, "Thank you, Miss Bae."

"A pleasure," She looks at your watch. You fight the urge to hide it as an approving smile graces her lips.

"Nice watch, Y/N. No wonder why there's only two of the same model left." She raises her arm and pulls back her sleeve to show you the black variation of the watch. "I have the second-to-the-last model." Irene grins, the sight surprising you. "I suppose that you and I share the same pleasures in life."

"You and me, both." You agree with a steady smile. The older woman regards you and your friend. "I best be going now. You ladies enjoy."

"Goodbye, Miss Bae." Ningning bows, and you follow her example. Once she's out of earshot, the latter turns to you with her lips curling upward t a smirk. "So, you're going to try her suggestion?"

You raise the pair before looking back at her. "I think I will. I mean, have you seen the way she dresses?" Your friend agrees, "Alright, try it, and I'll give you my feedback."

"Thanks, Ning."

"Holy shit - Y/N, is that you?" You snap your head as Yeji's voice fills your ears despite the EDM music blasting over the speakers.

"Yeji!" You return her greeting as she approaches you and Ningning. The older girl wore a white tweed suit and heels. "Geez, girl." The chestnut-haired girl scours you from head to toe, "You look amazing!"

"Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" You counter, and she playfully hits your shoulder, "Yeah - but seriously, you look good."

"Thanks," You wink at her before she pats your shoulder, "I see Lia at the other end of the room. If you wanna drink and hang with us, our table is open."

"Duly noted," You tell her before she nods her head and then leaves to join her group. While waiting for Ningning to arrive at the party, you mingled with your peers with a mocktail in your hand. Despite it being a year-end party, alcoholic drinks are still prohibited.

"Finally!" You exasperated upon seeing a familiar face. Ningning rolls her eyes at you as you hand her a drink. "I thought you aren't going to show up."

"And waste the outfits we bought for this party?" She scoffs, "No fucking way. You look good, by the way. Miss Bae has good taste."

"I agree," You nudge her by the arm. "Yeji told me I looked amazing earlier, too." The latter cranes her neck, "What is it?" She snaps her attention back to you, "Oh, nothing." Then, Ningning smirks. "It's just that you've gained some attention."

"The good kind, I hope?" You follow her example; indeed, Ningning's right. You've attracted stares from your peers.

"Can't blame them though," She shrugs, "You've been wearing pants and trousers for the whole semester. The sight's refreshing."

A scoff leaves your lips, "I feel like I'm giving the 'ugly duckling' effect."

"So about your arrangement with Karina," A hum reverberates from your chest, "Did you clarify?"

"Jimin and I are exclusive," You sip your drink, and the beverage smoothly runs down your throat; you sigh. "Speaking of, are you and Aeri exclusive?"

"Yep," She emphasizes the 'P', "Gigi made it clear the moment we first met."

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?"

Ningning stands close to you. Her expression sharpens as she whispers: "Oh no, a man is approaching."

"Who?"

"Beats me," She whispers back. "I ain't leaving you."

"Thanks,"

"Excuse me?"

"Hello," You greet him with a clipped tone as a stranger approaches you. The first thing that strikes you is how strong his perfume smelled. Oh, god.

"You're Y/N, right? From Professor Jung's class?"

"Yes?"

He grins and takes a step close. You instinctively step back while Ningning observes him with her purse ready. "I was wondering if you girl want to join our table?"

Ha! No, thank you. But your friend spoke on your behalf.

"No thanks," She grabs your arm, "We're okay right where we are."

"It'll be fun," He tries, and you hide your shudder as your skin prickles under his gaze. Your posture bristles as you drape your arm around Ningning's waist. "No, thank you."

He is about to say something when another voice chimes in from behind. Cold, steely, and cutting. But vaguely familiar.

"Are we interrupting something?"

On cue, all three heads snap to no other than the Bae siblings. But your focus is on Karina, whose expression's harsh, and her gaze: piercing, and dare you to say hostile?

"Good evening, Miss Bae," All three bow before the two powerful women, "I'll get going now," The guy sheepishly excuses himself, and your benefactor's face softens, but that was cut short when her haze-colored eyes traverse on your attire - did her eyes just darken?

"Miss Bae, what brings you to the year-end party?"

"Karina and I just finished discussing matters regarding University Week. She'll help sponsor the program."

"Oh," Karina's lip curled upward while she ran her eyes up and down your body, sending goosebumps in her wake. "That's right. And my, Y/N. You look ravishing."

"Thanks," You breathe to calm your nerves as you fought to say her name. Did Irene arch a brow between you and Karina? Or was it just the strobing effect of the lights in the venue? You mentally shake your head sideways as you focus on another fact that the sisters look good - Karina looks good - ravishingly beautiful. The woman wore a soft white double lapel slashed cropped jacket finished with a single button fastening matching a soft white asymmetric mini skirt and platform thigh-high black boots. And to finish off the look, she styled her hair damp and slid it back with Bulgari rings adorning her well-manicured hands.

"I chose that attire for her," Irene chimes and Karina snaps her attention to her older sister before raising a brow at you. You chose to ignore it.

"I see," Karina notes absentmindedly, "No wonder I spot a change in style," she adds with a tone you can't decipher.

"Hey, Y/N!" Yeji's voice interjects before she gets cut off by another voice:

"Oh - they're with the dean-"

"It's fine," Irene raises an open palm, "We'll be on our way."

Oh...

Karina sends you a coy smile before leaving with her older sister, leaving your eyes to trail after her as they disappear from view.

"Damn," You whisper while Ningning snickers, "Easy girl, we can't have the floor all slippery with you drooling after her."

"Oh, shut up." You hiss at her while Yeji and Lia invite you and Ningning to their table.

"Excuse me, ladies," You announce, "But I need to go to the comfort room."

"Want me to go with you?"

You held up a hand, "No thanks, I can manage."

Yeji nods in understanding while Ningning chatters with Yuna.

The door creaks open as you enter the clean CR to check on your appearance. Not long after, another woman enters the CR, but you didn't bother to raise your head to see until you feel two slender arms snake around your waist, pressing your back against her strong front as her voice fills the room:

"I didn't know that you and my sister saw each other." You hastily turn away from the sink as Jimin's slender figure stands in front of you, your back pressed against the marble sink.

"Easy, darling." She purrs, "It's me,"

"Jimin," Your breath hitches as the woman before you smirk in delight.

"I said it once, and I'll say it again," She leans dangerously close to your face. You hold your breath as her perfume fills your nose, "You look ravishing, darling. Exquisite too, if I may," Your hands grip her arms as she continues:

"But the next time you go shopping, call me." Her cold breath fans against the skin of your face. "I'll make time for you."

Shit, she's too close - you can't think!

You instinctively lean away with your heart ramming harshly against your ribcage, "I will," You fought the urge to slap yourself for the way your voice sounded. "You look beautiful, Jimin. Nice touch on the hair."

A grin escapes her lips, "I knew that you were attending. I had to dress to impress you, baby."

"And I am," You tell her breathlessly as she pins you gently against the sink as she moves her head to the side of your face, her breath fans against the outer lobe of your ear, eliciting a shudder from you.

"But I don't think I can leave you alone tonight, sweetheart. Especially when they have their eyes on you." She moves her head to your neck, her lips brush against your skin, and you bite your lip to prevent an embarrassing sound from coming out.

"Shall I do something about it?" Your hoarsely suggested, and the older woman chuckles. "You can indulge me, pretty girl."

A gasp leaves your lips as she pecks the side of your neck. Your skin thrums at the action as your hands shamelessly traverse to her back, flushing her against you, eliciting a dark chuckle from the woman's lips as her other hand goes up to your neck, then at the back of your skull where she takes a handful of your hair and gently pulls it back, your look up at her, eyes dark and glazed.

"I know I have such an effect on you, darling." She rasps, her voice an octave lower. "I'll be blunt, baby. I want you the moment I saw you in Bicena Olympia."

Your lungs betray you as the latter presses her hips against yours. "Will you grant me this?"

Not trusting your words, you give the simplest form of reply by pecking the corner of her lips. Jimin returns it by locking her plump lips against yours, swallowing your cries of delight before pulling away, her hazel-colored eyes dark, almost abysmal as her sister's.

"I'm taking you home," She gasps, and you don't have a problem with it.

Of course, the Hotel Magnate would be staying at the penthouse of her hotel. And that same hotel magnate has her legs spread with you in between. Karina's skirt and boots are haphazardly discarded somewhere on the floor, while your double-breasted blazer jacket is loose.

Her hair was strewn beautifully all over her pillows a blissful moan leaves the older woman's lips as you lap her juices. Her hand grips your hair, eliciting a hum from you as she rocks her hips against your tongue. Your hands fist the sheets as you flatten your tongue to let her do as she wishes and groan when your nose bumps against her clit.

"Fuck, keep going, baby." She purrs, "You do me so well - fuck!" She drops her head against her soft pillows; a groan leaves your lips as her walls squeeze your tongue and your hips rut against the mattress, hoping for some friction, but Karina tugs on your hair as a warning. You obey your mistress as your lips traverse from her core to her clit and bite it. The hazel-eyed goddess sighs in satisfaction.

She's close, by the telltale signs of her fluttering walls, and a surge of wetness touches your tongue, and you didn't hesitate to lap her essence until her thighs shake from overstimulation - that's when you pull away and rest your cheek against your thigh while you squirm as your arousal dampens your underwear - and it's starting to become uncomfortable.

"Good girl," She praised and caressed the top of your head. "I will reward you." Karina presses a kiss against your forehead.

"Stay here," She whispers, "I'll get something, okay?"

"Yes," You pant as the latter slips away gracefully, and while she's away for a moment, you inhale her scent in the sheets and sigh blissfully. She smells divine.

The bathroom door opens, and you look up to see Karina standing - naked, allowing you to see her lithe physique. Her body is carved with perfection. Your eyes travel lower and - your jaw slacks. Trapped to her hips was a strap.

A double-ended strap.

Karina's eyes ate you up predatorily as she stalks towards you, but your eyes were focused on the long, thick strap between her legs. You watch, slacked-jawed as she sits on the bed with her back against the headboard. Her hazel-colored eyes glaze with lust as she rakes her eyes at your figure.

"Strip," She commands, and you didn't need to be told twice as you quickly, haphazardly discard your clothes, leaving them to flood her marble floors. "Good girl," She purrs as her slender hand pats her thigh. "Now come to me."

You oblige by crawling to her. Your cunt flutters due to exposure as you crawl towards your mistress with hooded eyes, Karina watches you intently as you straddle her strong thighs, hands on her shoulders while the pads of her fingers dance around your hips while her lips press butterfly kisses around the pillar of your neck before going behind your ear:

"Ride me,"

Say less

With a puff of your breath, Karina helps you align your sopping cunt to her faux cock. The latter grunts as you slowly sink into her thick cock. You bounce up and down, pussy rubbing against hers as you dig your nails against Karina's shoulders, hearing the older woman hiss, you loosened your grip, muttering: "Sorry-"

She cuts you off by flushing you against her and thrusting her hips, faces contorting with pleasure, and her lips curl to a wolfish smirk when your lips let out streams of moans.

"It's okay, baby - oh fuck. Keep doing it. Ride me, harder."

"Fuck," You mewl as your hips meet her thrusts, your jaw drops into an 'O' shape as your release a particular squeal that has Karina groaning and caresses your ass before she spanks it roughly, emitting a whimper from your mouth as you hide your head in the crook of her neck while her lips attack your neck by sucking. Walls clenching and throbbing around her, you were so slick and wet that your juices dripped down on her thighs.

"Yeah, just like that." Karina gasps, letting out a guttural moan as the other side of the strap digs against her clit. Karina thrusts her hips upward in motion with yours, fucking you hard and deep that your vision grew irregular as a strange pressure grows on your stomach, your insides pulsing and tingling - you're close.

"Karina," You mewl, and you press yourself harder against her, your position coming off as intimately close. "I'm close - please-"

"Keep going," She growls, pounding into you harder to the point that her thrusts are shallow. Both bodies are covered in a thick sheen of sweat as beads of exertion form on both your foreheads. The smell of perfume and sex permeates in the air accompanied by sinful noises coming from you and the older woman.

The pressure grows strong inside of you, losing all inhibition as you kiss the older woman - searingly, all-consuming as she swallows your moans. Her arms snake around you, pulling you impossibly closer to her hot body as you come undone with a gnawing urge to say something - call out the title the woman deserves.

But you refuse at the embarrassing possibility, so instead, you pull away and bite her shoulder, earning you a moan from the older woman as she cums. Both ends of the strap are covered with your juices as her hips stutter.

Fire consumes your body as you lift your head from her shoulder and gently kiss the mark you left on the woman before resting your head on the crook of her neck, both chests heaving harshly for breath while your mistress brushes a hand against your back.

You lean away from her, and you're greeted with an equally spent Karina whose lips curl to a satisfied smirk. "Do you want me to clean you up?"

You shook your head sideways, not wanting to leave her arms.

"Very well," She pecks your lips as she grabs the duvet with her other hand to cover your lower parts without pulling out of you. She adjusted the both of you while her faux cock stays inside you, coaxing a soft moan out of you as she whispers in your ear:

"Sleep, pretty girl. We have a flight to catch tomorrow."

"I'll take a shower," You said.

"And I'll join you," Karina said, "It'll be faster." She said.

Well...

The bathroom echoes with your shared moans as the older woman plows into you with utter control as she presses you firmly against the marble wall.

You don't know how long you two were at it. All you could do was claw Karina's back in pure bliss as water runs down your bodies.

"Shit," Karina mewls, "Fuck, baby. You're so tight!" She emphasizes by roughly pounding into you as the other end of the dildo rubs against her walls deliciously, causing you to throw your head back against the wall.

Despite the running water, it doesn't conceal the sounds of obscene activity you and the older woman are doing.

You cry out and wrap your arms around her shoulders as she hits the spot that makes you see stars. You dig your heels against her ass, forcing her to thrust deeper into you. Her faux cock blissfully rubs against your walls as she fucks you into the wall.

"Are you close?" She moans when you kiss her Adam's apple before forcing your head against the wall with her other hand. "Answer me, pretty girl."

"Yes," You whine and clench your walls for good measure.

Karina's hips stutter before she pistons her hips at a harsh pace that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head with profanities befalling from your lips.

The older woman watches you with carnal delight as you writhe under her ministrations.

You look so pliant, so exquisite - hers.

The hazel-eyed beauty bristles with feverish desire as she combs her damp hair with her free hand, giving her a messy, slid-back look that makes her devastatingly attractive before she puts her hand back on your hips, keeping you still as she bullies your cunt with her cock.

"Close," You cry out, "Oh - so close-" There's that urge again, and you refuse it by kissing the older woman who returns it with equal energy as you cum so hard it's blinding.

Your entire body goes slack, and Karina holds you up with her hands caressing your hips slowly.

"You okay?" She bemused before pecking your bare shoulder.

"I don't think I can walk," You mumble as you close your eyes. Karina hums and rests her head against your hammering chest. A whimper leaves your lips as Karina shifts her hips with the strap still lodged inside you. Karina coos in your ear encouragingly, rubbing your hips to ease you, and pulls the strap out with a wet squelch.

"Fuck," You moan as the strap slips out of you. Your beaten walls ring with sensitivity, and you can't tell if it's better or worse now that Karina pulled out.

"Did I do too much?" She whispers as she holds you securely. Her touch is gentle and soothing as she caresses your back and waist.

"Maybe?" You cheekily reply, "I was too busy enjoying it to notice."

This elicits a grin from the older woman as she pecks your lips. "I'll carry you back into the room. We have a flight to catch at 6 PM."

"Thanks," You sigh as you wrap your arms around the latter and flush against her warm body as she brings you to her room.

The trip to Tokyo was smooth sailing.

The older woman always had her arm on the small area of your back whenever you go out together, even during her meetings with clients and investors. There's never a dull moment with your sugar mommy. You exit the stores carrying bags of Gucci, YSL, and Loius Vui. Designer brands? You name, you have it!

These shopping sprees paired with dinners at the finest restaurants in the city had you ready to give Karina what she wanted: you.

Not that you minded. Especially when Karina gives you mind-blowing orgasms; you'd let her do anything to you, even slip a vibrator inside you without any chances of coming undone.

You bite your lower lip to suppress a whine as the device edges you once again. Your hands grip the utensils while Karina talks with one of her loyal clients with a dangerous gleam dancing in her eyes. Your walls clench around the vibrator, your arousal dampening your underwear. You can only hope that it won't stain your dress. Your thighs quiver whenever you move as the vibrator strikes deeper, forcing you to bite into your pasta to prevent an embarrassing moan from leaving your lips.

Hot and bothered, you shakily reach for a glass of water as Karina turns to look at you, her carnal delight hiding behind the mask of faux curiosity.

"How about you, darling? Do you like the food Chef Nakamoto made?"

"Yes," You say through gritted teeth as Karina adjusts the dial to 'high'.

"Well," Sakura, the client, chimes with a warm smile. "I enjoyed the dinner. I'll have my secretary have the documents ready by tomorrow. Thank you, Miss Bae."

Karina stands up, and you follow her example as you three bow together and head back to her penthouse suite.

The balcony allows you to have a good view of Tokyo's city lights. Aside from the pool, there's also a canopy bed good for a couple a few feet from the pool.

You hold on to one of the railings as Karina leads you by the pool while the device vibrates inside you. You grip her hand, garnering the attention of the former as you look at her with pleading eyes.

"Can I cum, please, Karina?" You begged, "I can't hold it any longer."

God, begging is so unbecoming.

But the older woman replies with a vile smirk as she raises your hand to her lips. "It entices you, doesn't it?" She sneers, "Being denied over and over again in public."

"Karina-"

"Easy, princess." She chuckles as you clench your thighs together. "Why don't you join me in the pool tonight, hm? The moon looks nice."

You swallow hard and nod, not trusting your words as the woman pecks your lips. "Your swimsuit is in the living room, and meet me in the pool once you're dressed."

"Okay," you whisper against her lips before she walks past you.

With shaky legs, you enter the living room and fetch the swimsuit that lay atop the cushioned settee, and changed in one of Karina's bathrooms with the vibrator still inside you.

Upon reaching the pool, Karina's already in the pool with her hand securing the stem of her wine glass. The woman is wearing a goddamn revealing swimwear, backless and sexy, giving you a good view of her amazing back view.

"There you are," She turns around with a smirk. "I thought you took care of your inconvenience in the living room."

You shake your head sideways while the low hum of the vibrator squelches inside of you. "I could never do that when you can do it better."

She guffaws and pats the ledge of the pool. "Sit. You've been a good girl."

You oblige and sit on the ledge of the pool as Karina makes her way to you. The pool sloshes at her movements as she stops before your closed thighs. She places her drink on the ledge before using both hands to pry your thighs apart. You breathe in her scent as she comes closer, glazed hazel eyes watching your faces as one of her fingers moves the rim of your swimwear and underwear, eliciting a soft mewl from you as the pads of her digits play with your slick folds.

"Look at that," She bemused, "You're so wet."

And she pulls out the vibrator, eliciting a moan from you as she turns the device off and puts it on the ledger. The older woman kisses the inner area of your thigh before pulling away to sit on the shallow side of the pool.

"Join me," She coaxes, and you didn't need to be told twice as you drop to the pool, the cold, yet oddly satisfying water soothes you as you swim towards the older woman who has her arms resting on the ledges. She uses one hand to beckon you closer and sit on her lap.

Your slick rubs against her skin and mixes with the water while you keep your hands to your sides, unsure of the outcome if you allow yourself to touch her.

Karina inclines her head as she snakes both arms around your waist, pressing you firmly against her lean body. "It's okay," She whispers and assaults your neck with butterfly kisses. "You can touch me, baby."

A sigh escapes your lips as you play with the ends of her hair while ignoring the throbbing in your core.

Karina's hand caresses your back, "You've been a good girl, aren't you?" She inhales your scent and sighs. You've been wearing her signature scent for the entirety of the vacation, marking you as hers.

She pulls you for a soft, sensual kiss. Her lips are plump and warm as it molds and moves against yours. Your hands cling to her nape. Her hands move freely against your straddled figure while your thighs trap her below you. A deep rumble echoes from her chest as your bodies begin to heat up with desire.

You kiss her until your lungs burned.

And when you feel your lungs constricting, you pull away with batted breath.

"Keep up with me, darling." She teased, "I'm going to reward us both."

Before you can ask, her hand goes down to your pelvis and moves the fabric aside, and thrusts three fingers into you.

You arch against her, moaning in sinful delight for receiving what she had been denying you for hours.

"Fuck!" You mewl as her other hand grabs the back of your hair and pulls it back, leaving your neck open and vulnerable for her as she sucks on every exposed expanse of your skin until it changes to a hue of light pink that'll turn to blue, green and wine-like stains the next morning.

"So sensitive," She teases, and you clench your walls in retaliation earning a soft gasp from her as more of your slick exits your folds.

"So drenched," She adds as she deepens her digits, earning her another moan from you as you allow your head to fall on her broad shoulder as she fucks her fingers into you. Your nails dig into her skin as she increases her pace, and the pool sloshes with your ministrations as you roll your hips against her hand.

It didn't take long for her to rub a spongey area of your walls - your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you come undone unannounced.

"That's a good girl," Karina praises as she helps you ride your high and gently nips your neck. "I hope you're not too spent yet, darling." She rasps as she licks your jaw, making you whine before pulling away and kissing you gently.

"Come," Karina helps you get up and situates you on the ledge as she grabs a towel stationed near you and wipes your skin dry before reaching your legs. She parts them, eliciting a mewl from you as she lightly dabs the mess you left in between your legs.

"Easy, baby." The Hazel-eyed goddess grins, "We're not done yet." Teasingly, she cups your cunt, making your thighs slightly jump at her soaked hand and shooting you a wink when you whined.

Karina's touches are soft, teasing, and sensual.

And it's driving you crazy as she helps you slip out of the pool and to the canopy bed.

She laid you gently against the sheets while she took off her swimsuit and disappeared inside. Minutes later, she comes out with a strap harnessed in between her legs, gesturing for your clothes to be removed.

You clumsily take the swimwear off your skin, leaving it on the floor as the woman joins you.

Karina perches her knee on top of the soft mattress and crawls toward you like a lioness cornering her prey. The sinews of her muscle showed as she looms above you, her toned arms cage your sides, and her legs caged yous. Unabashed, you look at her lips before raising your head to capture them. You release yourself from the towel and latch onto her back. The black-haired woman moans and presses you against the mattress as she kisses you with an all-consuming passion. Karina's hands glide to your wrist and pin them to the sides of your head as she grinds her faux cock against your seeping cunt.

Your sugar mommy pulls away and attacks the expanse of your neck with kisses that morph into generous bites. You close your eyes and allow your head to fall on the soft pillows.

Your hips jut against hers - the older woman bites your collar in return as her arousal drips down her thighs.

"On your stomach," She commands. You obey.

"Hips up," Karina growls. You obeyed, allowing her to see your swollen cunt that was already dripping with arousal. "Good girl," She purred and slapped your folds, making you cry out as more of your essence dripped down.

The older woman uses your slick to coat her cock before looming above you, her hands trapping you on opposite sides before her right hand moves to your neck, applying pressure, causing you to gasp and jut your hips at her dildo.

Karina's other hand digs her nails against your neck, making you hiss in both pleasure and pain as she thrusts her entire length. The head easily parts your folds as she glides into you with one swift motion, impaling you entirely with her cock. The sheer girth of her shaft spreads your cunt until your walls are stretched thin around her length. You find yourself screaming in a mix of pain and erotical delight as you claw the sheets and you gasp for air, practically winded by the first thrust. Compared to her fingers, you feel full. Your walls fluttered, pulsing around her as Karina sets a brutal pace.

"Karina," You cry out as her hand leaves your neck and kisses your shoulder. Her hips hit the curvature of your ass. You can feel her abs flex and stiffen at her pace.

"Y/N," She moans, holding you down by your shoulders as she jackhammers inside you while the bulb presses into her walls. You both feel hot and dripping in sweat as she meets every roll of your hips. Your head falls against the pillows, letting the older woman have her way with you as her lips chase your neck and bite your skin, making you cry out as she spanks you.

"Mine," She growls against your ear and gently bites it. "You're mine, baby. Do you understand?"

Your cunt clamps vigorously, sweat finally dripping from your temple as lust has finally taken over you, moaning with abandon, your mixed juices now trailing down your thighs, body covered in both sweat and Karina's marks.

Her patience runs thin, and she thrusts harshly, "Answer me, pretty girl. Do you fucking understand?"

Your stomach coils, and your arms shake under her thrusts as she keeps her body close to yours.

"Yes - mommy."

Oh shit

You hope she didn't hear you.

The older woman digs her nails into your hips, pounds becoming more desperate, feral. Her hands grope any skin available for her as her need for release pushes her closer to the edge.

You aren't far behind her, either.

And she knows this, too.

The way your stomach coils and twists, toes curling, back arching, and your moans were high-pitched, sobs choked, and your mewls were breathy as she begins to thrust with abandon, you drop your head as you cry out her title, incensed by your wails, her pace inhumanly fast and-

You let out a loud moan as you felt her cock brush your g-spot, making your back arch against her front. A vile grin breaks into Karina's lips as she repeatedly aims the spot, making your arms weak and your thighs quiver with every penetrative slam. Moan after moan leaves your lips.

"Are you close?"

"Yes," You whimper with your eyes closed. A broken sob escapes your lips when her teeth dig against your nape, sending shocks of pleasure shooting right through you.

"Repeat my title, baby." She rasps.

What?

"Mommy," She clarifies, "Call me mommy when I fuck you."

So she did hear...

"Are you close?" She repeats. Another broken sob leaves your lips as you replay to her: "Yes, mommy - fuck, I'm so close."

Karina bends down to press a kiss on your marked shoulder before stilling her hips as you cum. Your walls fluttered as the older woman cums too.

She drops her head against your nape, and her warm breath fans your sensitive skin as her arm wraps gently around yours. Swallowing thickly, she pulls out.

You let out a frail moan as more of your cum leaks out of your abused cunt. The older woman delicately helps you lay on your back, finally allowing you to see her.

Karina looks beautiful in the afterglow of sex, her pristine appearance is slightly flushed, and her lips are swollen.

"Can you do one more for mommy?" She murmurs as she maps your face with light kisses.

And who are you to deny her? You cup her face and peck her plump lips. "Use me, mommy."

A smirk breaks past her pretty lips. "Hips up," She gently commands. You obey her and raise your hips, wincing at the sore feeling that shoots in your hips. Karina quickly places a pillow underneath your hips as her lips find yours, consuming you again.

Your hands circle her neck as you give in to her kiss, hands gripping themselves on your waist, pressing you hard on her bed as if to keep your scent there, and moaning softly when your tongue breaches into her mouth.

The older woman grinds her pelvis against yours, smearing your thighs with your juices as her lips latch onto your neck, biting her marks, making you roll your eyes to the back of your skull as shocks of pleasure ripple through you.

Sheer libido sticks in the air as she pushes herself inch by inch. Nails digging against the skin of her back; a breathy mewl breaks past your lips, and the sting of sensitivity ripples through you. Karina hides her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as she further pushes herself deeper, indulging in your moans.

"Mommy's got you," She coaxes, and her hips begin to move.

Gasping at the intrusion as she pounds into you with newly-found vigor, your body falls limp, allowing her to use you as she further spreads your legs apart to create more room for her to fuck herself into you, her pace bristling with need.

"Ah-fuck!" You cry out with ecstasy when she impulsively bites the center of your neck.

Your mistress growls and pulls away with a wolfish grin on her lips as she snaps her lips with need.

The dark-haired goddess suddenly slows her pace, pulling out until the bulbous head remains, before slamming right back in, and a wanton moan befalls your lips, eyes closing and mouth agape, letting out your sounds of moans of delirium, and Karina is incensed by this and angles her hips in a particular fashion that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, whimpering "Mommy" on the lobe of her ear, driving her insane and increases the power of her thrusts, rutting into you whilst you litter her neck with kisses, all the while leaving red vertical lines on her strong back.

You could practically hear the bed mimicking your trembling legs beneath the older woman as your cunt takes her. The squelching sounds add to the symphony between the two of you.

The older woman growls and presses you harder, fucking you to her bed, hips snapping back and forth, teeth gritted, beads of sweat rolling down her temple, strands of hair falling to the side of her perfectly sculpted face.

You pull her close to you, legs trembling as they wrap around her waist, attempting to pull her closer and giving Karina the advantage of pushing her cock deeper inside your weeping walls, hitting your bundle of nerves.

"That's it, baby." The hazel-eyed beauty grunts with effort, her pace merciless, forcing you upward so that she has to wrap her arms around you to keep you in place.

"You're taking mommy so well."

Tenderly, she cups your jaw and massages your cheek, startling you as her hips are in contrast to her hand.

"You belong to me now, love." She whimpers as you jut your hips. "Say it, that you belong to me."

"I belong to you, mommy." You whimpered, causing the woman above you to close her eyes, heart fluttering upon hearing the sound of her title falling perfectly from your lips. "I-I'm close, please, please don't stop."

"I won't," She prompts softly, hitting deeper, the sensation rippling within you overwhelms your body. You're pushed over the edge with a sob as your body racks with pleasure; another orgasm crashes through you like a truck as you fall limply, squirting around her cock.

But she keeps fucking into you.

"Mommy," You mewl as you try to pry her off. "Too much,"

"One more," She pants, "Give me one more, love. Can you do that - fuck - for me?"

You can't, your legs feel like lead, your body is already covered with sweat and marks, and your lower region felt like it was about to split in half. But in determination to please your mistress, you nod, with tears welling in your eyes before she moves her hips at a smooth, steady pace. You cry out as the ring of sensitivity and overstimulation shoots in your cunt as she takes you raw, your eyes already spilling with tears as her speed picks up, pulling her closer until your bodies feel like molding together.

Karina slaps your clit, making you jolt and cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

She kisses you feverishly; she swallows your whimpers as she doubles the pace, making your back arch against her front.

You cry out helplessly as she throws your legs over her shoulder, allowing her to hit much deeper spots within you and running with effort as her pace becomes sloppy, both walls painfully throbbing for release as your broken moans fuel her and the thin line between pain and pleasure blurred as she stuffs you with her cock.

"More," You panted and clawed her back for leverage. "I'm so close, mommy. So, so close."

"You like that, hm?" She pants and moans softly when your stomach bulges from her thrusts. "Like it when mommy fucks you senseless? Treat you like a fuckdoll?"

You screamed as her tip kissed your cervix. You tangled your hand around her locks and tugged it harshly, making Karina hiss and speeds to a despearate pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as the tip keeps kissing your cervix, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm.

You latch your lips around her neck, sucking and biting her collarbones, and her hoarse moans fill your ears as you bite her Adam's apple, feeling her stutter in her thrusts and punishing you for it by drilling into you at a bruising pace, your vision hazy, your body heavy, skin covered by a veil of sweat as your hands grab onto her biceps or anything that will anchor you from her frantic pace, the skin on your inner thighs burning from the contact, dragging her fake cock in and out of your quivering folds.

Small hips jutting in sharp precision that she flaunts whenever she has a chance, she palms your cheeks, tilting your head up for a kiss, tangibly tender and sensual compared to her pace. The older woman kisses you gently while fucking you senselessly.

The coil in your stomach suddenly snaps with the tension, and then comes the onslaught of immense white-hot ecstasy, curling, and roaring like a beast in your stomach, the pressure between your legs immeasurably high. You clamp around her one last time, vision blackening as she throws you to your orgasm, blinding you until it consumes you whole, and you're shaking ferociously.

Karina bites your shoulder and comes hard with a harsh shudder. You held onto her tightly. Lungs panted for batted breath as she cradles you, prepping her kisses all over your face and brushing the stray strands of hair behind your ear as you tremble in her arms.

"Sh," She coaxes, "I got you. You did so well." She pressed another kiss on your lips, allowing you to anchor yourself into her. "Hang on, baby. I'll carry you to the bed inside, okay?"

Throat raw from moaning and screaming, you nod, and the woman carries you effortlessly without pulling out. You tighten your arms around her, feeling her against your walls as she carried you inside your private quarters.

She lay you gently against the bed and gently pulls out from your battered walls, and throws the toy somewhere in the room as she lays beside you, her arms automatically finding yours as she flips you so you can be on top of her while the other hand reaches for the sheets so she can keep you warm.

"Thank you," You croaked as you rest your head against her chest and inhaled her soft scent.

Karina returns your gratitude with a soft kiss against your forehead and rubs your back softly, lulling you into sleep. But not without hearing her raspy voice:

"Goodnight, darling. And thank you for indulging me."

"Here we are," Karina parks the car near the university's main building. You tear your gaze away from the window and towards your provider.

"Thanks, Karina." You lean and peck her cheek before exiting the car.

"Wait," The latter calls out and follows after you. The ends of her coat dance in the wind as Karina stands beside you. "I'll escort you there." It wasn't a request, but you didn't mind as you offer to her your hand. Karina smiles brightly, her skin glowing as the golden rays of the sun kiss her face, giving her hazel eyes a bright glow as she takes your hand. You walk together.

"Are you free after class?" She inquires as your footfalls clack against the pavement.

For her?

"Yes,"

"Then I'll pick you up ten minutes after classes, yeah?"

"Sure-"

"And what do we have here?" You freeze while Karina whips her head to the back, where her sister - the dean is standing with her hands on her hips with a perfectly arched brow directed at the both of you, her expression: surprised.

"Irene," Karina greets with a coy grin as you turn to face her. The Hotel Magnate quickly wraps her arm around your waist, pulling you close to her while you bow respectfully towards your dean.

"Good morning, Miss Bae."

"At ease, Miss Seol."

You straighten your back to see that the dean has her eyes on her sibling, and a small smile graces the older Bae's lips.

"So, when did you start boning one of my students, sister?"

"That's a long story, Joohyun." She looks at you, "Come on, I'll take you to the building." You eagerly agree with your paramour and bow to the dean again before leaving her standing there.

"What are we going to do?" You whisper to her, and she sends you a wink.

"She won't interfere, darling." She peers over her shoulder and smirks before returning her gaze to you and kissing you softly.

"You're mine. Remember that." Karina breathes against your lips. "And my sister can't do a thing about it."

Fin

#karina x reader #constantinewrites #aespa x reader #female reader #kpop oneshots #kpop imagines #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin #aespa #aespa smut #karina smut #yoo jimin x fem reader #Million Dollar (Wo)Man

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devilmademewriteit · 8 months

Text

If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

TAGLIST (cont’d in reblogs): @millllenniawrites @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @fruitcupsworld @mads-grace4 @killerrxger @niallsbunny @snowyarcher @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @bbyanarchist @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @redhotkitchen @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @kamcrazy123 @wclverine

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roll-of-royces · 2 months

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HC: How They Respond To Someone Flirting With You

At first he is subtle about his jealousy, his jaw tightens, he shifts a little closer. He makes an off-handed remark to whoever is causing the jealousy ("Yes, my partner and I went out for breakfast yesterday. We enjoyed it.").

If the stranger persists so does Zayne. Now it's an arm lightly curling around your waist. It's a kiss to the top of your head, a rare display of affection despite others nearby. The statements become more claiming, like "I am lucky to call them mine."

And if still whoever is the culprit does not get the hint, Zayne's passive-aggressiveness grows. He all out disengages from the situation entirely, "If you'll excuse us." Guiding you away with a hand firmly in the small of your back.

He doesn't blame you, he expects it. After all what he said is true, he knows he's lucky to have you. The night ends early, as he takes you back to his apartment. When you're alone, he's clingy. Hands on your face, then your hips. He kisses you more than usual, muttering compliments like curses, "I should have known with you being so beautiful." or "Let me show you how perfect you are."

Needless to say, you don't get much sleep.

It takes Xavier a moment to realize what is going on, but after he puts the pieces together his stance changes. His normally casual slouched posture straightens. His eyes, blinking away in errant contented sleepy thought a moment ago, are now sharp. He takes your hand.

If that is not enough his astonishment grows. He doesn't understand why someone would flirt with you when he is right there, holding your hand. And now you're starting to look uncomfortable. He fixes the stranger with a harsh glare.

And when that is ignored, he falls into the strong tone of a legendary Deepspace Hunter, who doesn't share his paramour with anyone. "We'll be leaving now." He pulls you away, grip tight on your hand not caring if he has come off as rude.

The two of you head off together, stopping at one of your favorite sweets shops as you do. Xavier is red in the face, and keeps glancing at you. He apologizes, saying "I could have handled that better." But his tenseness loosens when you kiss him, because at the end of the day you're going home together.

Despite his casualness, Rafayel notices the moment the first flirtatious comment leaves the stranger's mouth. It instantly becomes a competition, because Rafayel knows all of your favorite things. He's learned them happily over your time together.

So each attempt at flirting is met with his own more dramatic attempt. The stranger compliments your hair, so he wraps it around his fingers and brings it to his mouth with a wink. The stranger says you look pretty, so Rafayel exclaims you are the most beautiful muse he has and will ever have.

The two of you end up making a bit of a game of it, until eventually the stranger gives up and leaves. When he's gone Rafayel laughs, "Did he actually think he had a chance?"

You laugh, and happily kiss him. It doesn't matter that you're at a party. You're with your love, and Rafayel is happy, smiling wide, grinning too often and never leaving your side.

#l&ds #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads #I want to watch Zayne hit someone

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writtenfangirl · 11 months

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Dancing

A short one this time! I just wanted to write a really fluffy piece without drama although, yes there is a very small conflict if you squint hard enough. I wanted to write another fic that made me feel good just cause life's been extra hard lately.

Although I have a ton of ideas for this one so a sequel if people really enjoy this. I briefly wondered making Y/N be Lady Whistledown and pairing her up with my favorite Bridgerton brother to see what would happen.

TW: People being mean. Gossiping mamas. Cressida Cowper mention.

The ball, as most balls tended to be as the night waned, had grown stale and boring. The dancing had ceased despite the wonderful string quartet that played their music and people had broken off to their own parties. As the guests become accustomed to the taste of alcohol, words began to flow with reckless abandon.

“Did you hear? Viscount Dotsfield has a bastard with a scullery maid!”

“The Earl of Blackfield is said to engage in… relationships with Sir Lockling.”

“There are rumors going around that one of the Colton daughters has a French paramour whose name is Ravilli. An ambassador of sorts…”

Gossip is what fueled the ton, the very lifeblood that had men and women of varying ages coming to these balls in the first place. No one in the ton wanted to be caught unaware and one could never be too careful of the rumors that could be fabricated about you. According to Y/N’s mama, the only people who didn’t come to balls and to the gatherings hosted by members of the ton were those of them whose reputations were in ruins. You were either gossiping or you were the one being gossiped about.

So she came and endured even if she was bored out of her mind.

It wasn’t anything she wasn’t use to anyway. She was a woman and women were seen and not heard. Not only that, but she was a wallflower. Wallflowers were hardly seen at all.

“Lady Y/L/N.”

She knew that familiar voice, smooth and deep yet somehow still bright. If sunsets could speak, Y/N imagined they would have his voice.

“Mister Bridgerton,” Y/N said as she spun around, hiding her smile behind her bejeweled fan. “I half expected you to have taken your leave by now.”

“Under usual circumstances, I might have. But I have yet to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room.” Benedict said with a crooked smile. “And my mother has always told me that dancing is one of men’s greatest assets to encourage affection.”

“There’s hardly anyone dancing,” Y/N said bashfully.

“All the better reason to do so.”

Y/N wasn’t naive. She knew Benedict was only speaking to her because his mother asked him too. She’d always rather liked Lady Bridgerton and she had a penchant for forcing her sons to dance with the wallflowers. At every ball Y/N attends, her dance card, though usually empty, always had three names: Anthony Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton. Colin Bridgerton.

And there was no man who made he heart beat faster than Benedict Bridgerton himself. Because it was Benedict who offered to fill up all of the other spaces in her dance cards even though he didn’t have to.

All the Bridgerton brothers were kind to her but Benedict was more than that. Anthony and Colin were polite but Benedict laughed with her and conversation flowed between them like water from a fountain. And though she knew Benedict was unlikely to return her feelings, she occasionally let her delusions run wild. She often spent her days imagining what their future would look like. Would their children have his eyes or hers? Their hair would probably be different too. And their noses—

“Y/N?”

Blast! What a bloody idiot! She shouldn’t have let her mind wander like that! And now Benedict was looking at her expectantly with those luminous blue eyes and she couldn’t focus her mind to remember what it is he’d asked of her.

“Yes?” She asked, fighting to stop herself from sounding so breathy.

“Excellent,” Benedict grinned with an outstretched hand.

The dance. She’d forgotten about the dance!

She briefly wondered if she could find a way out of it. Getting on that dance floor would shift everyone’s focus on to them and she already knew what people would say.

“The Bridgerton charity case.”

“Of all of the young ladies, he chose her?”

“He deserves better.”

She glanced around nervously. Everyone else was too engrossed in their own conversations to pay them any heed but those conversations would instantly stop the moment she and Benedict stepped on the dance floor alone.

And she knew that if she were to reject Benedict’s advances, her mother would kill her. Though Anthony was but a Viscount, his fortune was considerable large. His father before him had managed their estate well and Anthony was known to make cunning investments that grew their already large fortune, a fortune that would also provide cushy lives for the rest of his brothers. Perhaps not the large estate of a Duke but certainly nothing to scoff at. And Y/N didn’t doubt for one second that the rest of the Bridgerton brothers weren’t as smart as Anthony was when it came to their finances.

It’s why Y/N had constantly heard her mother’s say, “you will marry a Duke or a Bridgerton. Anything less is unacceptable.”

Luckily for Y/N, her mother wasn’t around to see her reject Benedict.

Still, with the way Benedict looked at her, it was hard to say no.

“Just one dance,” Y/N ceded with a sigh, slipping her gloved hand onto his.

His smile widened considerably. “You mustn’t be nervous.”

“Easy for you to say,” Y/N huffed. “You look perfect everywhere you go.”

“Oh?”

Damn. Damn damn damn. Damn the world. Damn herself. And damn Benedict Bridgerton.

“You think I look perfect?” He asked, cocking a brow in question.

“U-uh, I m-mean, that is to say, I don’t—“

“You truly must calm your nerves, my lady,” Benedict said with a chuckle as he pulled her to her feet and led her to the dance floor. “I am only teasing.”

Y/N could hear the stream of gossip stop as members of the ton watched them. There was a pregnant pause and then the chatter began once again. She couldn’t hear the full conversations but she heard enough.

“…fat…”

“…ugly…undeserving…”

“…he is too kind…”

It made Y/N want to curl up into a ball so that the earth may open up and swallow her whole.

“Pay them no heed,” Benedict muttered as he pulled her close, his hand resting on the small of her back as his other hand found hers. “Focus only on us. And tonight, you look beautiful.”

“Only tonight?” Y/N joked in a bid to ease the coil of tension tightening around her core.

“Every night.” Benedict’s tone was too serious to be called teasing.

Soon the new music started, washing away the ton’s horrible words. She could still feel their watchful eyes on her skin, felt the way they judged her.

“Focus on me,” Benedict muttered before he began their dance by swaying them back and fort.

She let the music fill her, weaving through the muscles in her body. Their dance was a complicated one and though she wasn’t an accomplished dancer by any sense of the word, with Benedict leading it was hard to fail.

In and out, push and pull, with complicated lifts and turns yet somehow always finding their way back to each other. It was as if their bodies were magnetized, attracted only to the other. As the music swelled, she forgot all about the gossiping ton and their prying eyes. Instead she only felt Benedict’s body heat, the hard chords of muscles hidden beneath his jacket, his hands steady around her waist.

His gaze on her felt soft, like staring at the afterglow of of dusk. She was never much of a drinker but Benedict always had the ability to make her feel drunk, as though each of her inhibitions left her the moment his luminous blue eyes landed on her.

When the last notes of the song echoed between them and Y/N and Benedict detached from each other to curtsy and bow at one another, the entire ballroom erupted into applause.

A soft gasp left Y/N’s lips. She’d completely forgotten about the ton watching them with Benedict commanding all of her attention.

She raised her head, meeting Benedict’s eyes once more.

“You were marvelous,” Benedict muttered with a grin as he took her hand and placed a chaste kiss against it before leading her out of dance floor. The ton’s eyes had grown less hostile and more appreciative on and, for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt exhilarated.

“I would like to call on you tomorrow, Ms. Y/L/N.” Benedict said, letting his voice be carried throughout the ballroom. His words brought on another wave of whispers. “If you would let me?”

Y/N was absolutely sure she would be the center of gossip tomorrow. Perhaps until the end of the season if Benedict’s intentions are what she thought them to be.

To call on her would mean Benedict would like to get to know her better, to suss out if she would make a good wife or not. And with him a Bridgerton and her a lowly Y/L/N, they would make waves with the ton. She could practically feel Cressida Cowper glaring daggers at her back.

But she didn’t care about that right now. She was still riding the high of their beautiful dance. She was no great beauty, that much was true. But with Benedict, she felt beautiful. And his opinion mattered to her more than the Queen’s and the whole ton’s combined.

“Of course you may call on me, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said graciously, ignoring her fast beating heart. “I’ll have the cook prepare that raspberry marmalade you enjoy so much.”

Benedict grinned. “I am much obliged. I shall see you tomorrow. I hope you have a good evening.” He took her hand again, placing another gentle kiss on her knuckles before he straightened and walked away.

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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crawling in as per your bg3 request..

astarion with a tav/reader that’s just constantly cold, like shivering a little bit all the time and their hands & feet are just. ice cold

rating: T

pairing: astarion x reader

“Good gods, you’re freezing!” Astarion complains as his hand accidentally brushes yours before it jolts back in shock. You groan.

“I know.”

“Even more than me, and I’m practically a corpse.”

“Yes, thank you, Astarion,” you mutter through your gritted jaw. You’re having to clench your teeth together in order to prevent them from chattering, although unfortunately you’re having little success. As if in apology your paramour shifts in his cocoon of an embrace around you, bringing you against him tighter.

This is a new level of cold, even for you.

You always run on the chilly side. You can often be found scooted up close to the fire when you make camp, or tucked in the corner of your tent with extra blankets on top of your bedroll. It’s always been bearable, a bit funny, even - something to joke about with your travelling party - but that was until you got to the Shadow Lands.

You haven’t been able to feel your fingers or toes for days. It’s torture. The sun doesn’t shine in this place so of course there’s no warmth. You can get a good night of sleep at Last Light Inn where Isobel’s magic keeps it at bay, but on the road? Well, there’s no hope. You’re reduced to a shivering wreck.

Though Astarion complains, he has been trying to help you where he can. Right now he’s holding you in his arms, attempting to warm you up with his nonexistent body heat. Acting as if the pair of you are just normal lovers and not two weirdos thrown together by fate while attempting to stop a mindflayer invasion.

A scant few weeks ago he’d have been offering to warm you up in a rather more physical way; with him buried inside of you, lips ghosting your neck, hands on whatever willing flesh he could find. But your relationship has changed, now. Evolved. Become something more, something solid and real. He’s not so eager to dive beneath the covers - at least like that - and you wouldn’t ask him to. You’ll give him all the time he needs.

It’s nice, what’s happening between the two of you. But at the moment you’re turning every cuddle into a mass of shivering limbs.

Astarion sighs again. But then he speaks and it’s gentle.

“You know, you could ask Karlach to come and act as your hot water bottle. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Or maybe that druid, Halsin - he’s been looking at you like he wouldn’t mind cuddling up…”

Though he tries to joke you can tell there’s an undercurrent of self-doubt in there. You harrumph and settle deeper into his arms, opting for a simple retort:

“I don’t want them, I want you.”

You feel him still against you at that unexpected flash of affection. Process it. Then he slowly extricates himself from your grasp.

A little whine slips from your throat and he pats the top of your head.

“Now, now. Stay put, pet, and I’ll be right back.”

You grumble but do as you’re bid. He steps out of your tent and you have no choice but to remain as a frozen little ball, foetus-curled and chilled to the bone. It’s a relief when he returns with more blankets and a pot of tea, likely brewed over the fire pit outside.

“Where did you get—?” you begin to ask, as he tucks the extra bedding around you.

“Well, Gale is fast asleep, he won’t notice he’s missing them until the morning,” Astarion reasons. You laugh, not sure if he’s joking or not, but not really wanting to know the truth - you’re holding onto this even if it was pilfered off the camp’s resident wizard.

You watch as Astarion pours you both a cup from the little metal teapot. Steam rises soothingly from it, warming up the tent interior. It makes sense he has one for you, of course, but…

“I thought you didn’t like drinking tea,” you say. What you mean is, I thought you didn’t like drinking anything that wasn’t blood.

“I don’t,” Astarion sighs, but brings the cup to his lips and chugs it down anyway. It must be far too hot to be comfortable, and you’re about to ask what he’s doing - but then he reaches out to untangle your hands from where you have them vice-gripping the edges of your blankets. He folds them in his own, softly and sweetly, then brings them to his mouth where he breathes out a long, slow stream of tea-warmed breath into your palms.

“Oh, Astarion…” you whisper, finally able to feel your fingers for the first time in days. You feel him smile against your hands.

“Mmm, I wouldn’t get used to it,” he tells you in a way which suggests he wouldn’t really mind you getting used to it at all.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

#astarion fic #astarion x you #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

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figscigfigs · 3 months

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my favorite moments from episode 4 of fantasy high junior year:

nat 20 to pet a cat that harassed your friend group last spring break

"they're always wearing big cloaks... like what's under there??" "yeah!!! they have stars on their hats!!"

THE RATGRINDERS BEING LIKE ACTUAL RATGRINDERS (i guessed it last week and yet i was overjoyed and on the edge of my seat the whole time)

em and murph’s little simultaneous “they’re literally grinding”

gorgug walking in as confidently as possible to a classroom he’s never been in, trying to solve a unsolvable problem written on the board wildly incorrectly in every aspect and then when it’s brought up just, “thank you”

FIGAYDA!!!!!! (fig trying to figure out what time ayda is in, ayda creating an order of knights to tell fig about her trip) “that’s my girlfriend, not a fucking spell component”

porter trying anything to get fig in his class while fig actively and openly hates him (he is so real and me bc i too think every fig does and has done is perfect)

aelwyn abernant blackmailing the principal of a middle school to get a job

the erased love yous (sobbing) <3

the bucky convo (he is so freshman year kristen) “join us”

fig has had a lot of jobs and some experience robbing jewelry stores

“my dad, i killed” *lou hums sympathetically*

zara, hottest woman ever, vampire warlock to her paramour

adaine’s first job was a little too real for me

everything about the presidential campaign (fig committing 100% to being security, kristen writing unnecessary speeches, shrimp party revival)

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gods-favorite-autistic · 23 days

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She’s 16 years old. She’s an archdevil. She’s a wizards paramour. She accidentally made a god choke on shrimp. She’s a teenage rockstar. She has only attended one bard class in 3 years of high school. She’s multiclassing 4 different classes. She almost flunked out of school. She’s trying to be more open. She wrote a note to her friend and pretended it was from their other friend. She’s wanted by the government. She’s saved the world 3 times in less than three years. She got knocked out almost immediately in her first fight. She’s one of two people in her party who haven’t died yet. She’s dating her principals daughter. The first time they kissed she tried to immediately skateboard away. She unknowingly hit on a dragon. She has three dads. She got all of them jobs at her school. She flirted with her girlfriend over her friends dead body while covered in blood. She once ripped out one of her piercings to give to her girlfriend. Shes amazing and I love her.

#fig faeth #she’s so special to me #fantasy high #fhjy #d20 #d20 fantasy high #fig fantasy high #dimension 20 #autism (mads) speaks

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bishopsbeloved · 3 months

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the art of falling in love (part three)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

read this fic on ao3!

But that awful feeling doesn’t go away… quite the contrary, it grows and grows. It’s a dark and hidden part of you, diseased, something you seek desperately to rid yourself of — but it only festers and worsens with the more time you spend with your love.

Yet being away from her is out of the question. The feeling only worsens whenever you’re away from her; an unbridled monster that dwells deep within the caverns of your chest, and bursts out at the most inopportune of moments. A tiny voice in the back of your head warns you that you’re turning into someone unrecognisable. You ignore it. Because you finally have the girl of your dreams, Natasha Romanoff, the one you’ve loved as long as you can remember.

“Whoever is this mystery girl you are dating, I do not like her,” Yelena says to you one day. It’s about a month now since the catastrophic spring break party at Tony’s house, and five months since the New Year’s party which began this whole mess. The two of you have been tasked with slicing vegetables for Melina, who is bustling busily around the stove. When Yelena speaks you have to physically pause to process her words, for fear you may otherwise slice straight through your own flesh as if it were another carrot.

“Mystery girl?” says Melina interestedly. “I did not know there was a mystery girl. How did I miss this? Y/N, sweetheart, you have a mystery girl and you have not brought her home yet?”

You glare at Yelena, and she smiles sweetly back.

“Nothing serious, ma,” you say to Melina as levelly as you can before turn to Yelena. “What do you mean, you don’t like her?” you ask, resuming your vegetable cutting. You try to ignore the shake of your hands and the beat of your heart. “You don’t even know who she is.” You hope, anyway.

She shrugs nonchalantly, as if she were discussing the weather rather than the affairs of your heart. “I don’t have to, to not like how she makes you feel. You are so different now, I do not like it. You are all sad and quiet and far away.”

“No I’m not,” you say in a small voice, fighting to hold back a tremble. You can only imagine the words she’d be saying if she knew it was her sister she was talking about.

“Yes, see!” says Yelena triumphantly, like you’ve just proven her point. “I say one thing and you are about to cry. Before you would hit me and we would be done.”

“You should not waste time on anyone who doesn’t treat you right, my sweet heart,” says Melina more tactfully, setting down her wooden spoon to cup your face in her gentle weathered hands. “You deserve the world. Find someone who gives you it.”

Your eyes do well up after she says that, and you have to turn away and blink rapidly so that Yelena doesn’t give you one of her knowing looks. To her credit, if she sees, she doesn’t say anything.

But Melina’s words weigh heavy on you, even after the conversation moves on — as though they’ve placed a physical burden upon your shoulders. They echo in your mind as you excuse yourself from the conversation and trudge upstairs, past the door of the very one they’re unknowingly warning you of. They play on repeat even as you’re beckoned into the bedroom of your secret paramour, who tells you to lock the door behind you. She’s sat on her bed, watching a Bond movie on her laptop, mouthing along to every word like she usually does.

“C’mere,” she says to you, patting the space between her legs. You obey wordlessly, sitting down between them with your back against her chest. Her arms wrap around you, tugging you closer, and her chin settles comfortably on your shoulder.

“Missed you,” she mumbles, sending shivers down your spine even as your troubled mind dwells on Mama Melina’s words.

You deserve the world, she repeats to you as Natasha begins to drop kisses along your neck, and you shift involuntarily in her lap. She groans and bucks up against you.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmurs against the skin of your collarbone, tugging at your shirt to trail her kisses lower. Natasha is your world, you think to yourself. And when she gives herself to you in moments like this, who are you to say it’s not enough? You remind yourself to be grateful every day that she sees fit to give you anything, to engage with you at all after she’s been so out of reach your entire life.

So as her kisses become lower and more insistent, you submit yourself to her completely, willing to do whatever pleases her. Because she is your world, and you would do anything for her — for better or for worse.

Unfortunately for you, though, Yelena does not seem to be the only one who’s noticed a shift in your behaviour.

Prom isn’t for another six or seven weeks, but already your classmates have begun the most over the top promposals you could think of, with each trying to outdo the last. It was only a few days ago that Bucky Barnes asked Steve Rogers to prom by writing “PROM?” on his back in sunscreen and then laying in the sun until the rest of him burnt. Rumour has it he tore off his shirt in front of their whole homeroom like some budget Superman knockoff. (Rumour also has it that Steve said yes. You’re not quite sure what to make of that.) (Well, at least you don’t have to worry about Bucky and Natasha anymore?) The halls are filled with hushed whispers of who might ask who next, and what methods they might choose to do so. And naturally, with Darcy being one of your closest friends, it is literally all you hear about when you are on the school premises.

…and Loki Laufeyson tells me Vision is thinking of asking you to prom, Wanda, Darcy signs triumphantly. You and your friend group are huddled around a table in the corner of the school library, supposedly studying, but with prom on the way that was never gonna happen. (The school librarian, Ms Harkness, is deathly serious about her no noise rules, but naturally as a friend group with a Deaf person in it that doesn’t really apply to you, so you often find yourselves in here.)

Since when were you on such good terms with Loki? asks Makkari with sceptically narrowed eyes.

Since the Stark party at Easter, comes Darcy’s confident reply. We did a science fair project together and now we’re totally friends. And they are very sure Vision has something planned.

I wouldn’t take it too seriously if it’s Loki telling you that, Wanda says dryly. They love to gossip. I don’t know Vision Stark, I’ve barely ever spoken to him. He kinda runs in the opposite way whenever he sees me.

He’s nervous, Darcy tells her knowingly. The guy’s scared of his own shadow, but he’s not too bad once he relaxes a bit. Give him a chance, I think you’d really like him. And also he apparently has neared a state of cardiac arrest several times trying to pluck up the courage to ask you out.

Wanda hums, and chews on her lip thoughtfully.

And you, Y/N, Darcy turns her gaze onto you now, you’ve had nothing going on for months. Have you got your eye on anyone?

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you shake your head no. I’m content where I am now, you say, which isn’t really a lie. Because you are happy. Right?

Darcy only shrugs before turning to Yelena, who is sat next to you while she gazes out of the window, zoned out as she often is whenever talk turns to romance. You nudge her gently with your foot and she turns, blinking out of her daydream. “Hmm? What—?”

“Shhh,” you all remind her instantly, as Ms Harkness’s head snaps up from the paperwork she was just bent over at her desk.

Sorry, Yelena rectifies hastily. What’s up?

Prom, you inform her, biting back a laugh at the way her face comically drops into one that’s very unamused.

I know you and Bishop didn’t work out, but do you have anyone else who might ask you to prom?

You look over at your best friend anxiously. Yelena has not really come out to anyone, only casually mentioning her aromanticism over dinner, to which Melina and Alexi barely batted an eyelid. Darcy does not seem to be picking up on the hints, though.

If anyone asked me, I would say no , Yelena tells her bluntly . I don’t do that stuff. Me and Y/N go together. Right, Y/N?

With matching outfits, you add helpfully.

We are going to serve, Yelena agrees, and the two of you low-five.

You can tell Darcy has more questions, but before she can press either of you any further the bell rings, signalling the end of free period. The four of you get to your feet, piling belongings back into your bags, and Makkari follows your example once she sees what you’re doing.

You end up falling behind at the back of the group, with Wanda next to you. She’s looking at you curiously, as though she’s seeing right through you, and you fidget uncomfortably.

Are you sure you’re happy? she asks you. The question hits you like a punch to the gut. Because you have not seemed it, lately.

You nod and smile weakly at her, and to her credit she pushes no further, but much like Melina’s words it weighs heavy on your mind long after she’s forgotten about it. You are happy, aren’t you? You are. You are happy. You have the girl of your dreams, for fuck’s sake. Of course you’re happy.

And that’s true, for the most part. You’re happy when you’re with her — and when you can switch your brain off around her, instead of pining what more you could have. Because this is all you have. All you’ll ever have. And every day you wake up, fearing that this is the day she’ll end whatever is between you, and cast you aside like the doll she’s done playing with.

But you must not seem that happy to other people, because it’s only a few hours later that you are questioned yet again — this time by Sam Wilson, who it is considerably more difficult to be upset with.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he calls down the hall as he spots you, awkwardly half-running to catch up with you. Last period has just ended, and you’re making your way to the science lab that you know Yelena just had a class in. You smile at him when you recognise him, and slow down until he matches your pace. Since that night he helped you out at the party the two of you have been talking a lot more, and you’ve found yourself really enjoying his company. You’ve never really been too good at making friends — if you didn’t have Yelena, your other half, you don’t know what you’d do — but things seem to come naturally with him. He’s very calming to be around, and he never makes you feel as though you’re supposed to be something that you’re not.

“What’s up, Wilson?” you greet him.

“I gotta bone to pick with you,” he says with half-hearted annoyance, even as he grins at you. You blink up at him in quiet confusion. “How come you stood me up yesterday night? You said you’d meet me out by the east block and you left me hangin’. We were supposed to go to Boulevard, remember?”

You groan and tilt your head back as you realise he’s right. The two of you have recently picked up a habit of hanging out at the arcade on the Boulevard after school for a couple nights a week. (He’s a beast at Donkey Kong, and you will never in your life be able to beat his high score, but you always manage to put up a good fight when you versus in Mortal Kombat.)

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“Are you sure?” he asks jokingly. “Cause you skipped out on the one before that too.”

“I’m really sorry,” you weakly offer. “I just…” Well, what the fuck kind of excuse are you supposed to offer? I’m sorry, my secret girlfriend slash love of my life will only spend time with me in private because she’s ashamed of me? “…I don’t know. I’ve kinda been all over the place lately. Sorry.”

“Yeah, no shit. What’s going on, man, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, and you’re horrified at the moment at that your voice trembles. “No, I’m good. Seriously. Just stressed for finals,” you try tentatively, and you’re relieved at the way he just nods sympathetically.

“Well if you need a distraction, I’m free tonight,” he offers hopefully. You instinctively open your mouth to deny him, but when you see the way he’s poised and ready to accept your inevitable denial you pause guiltily. Why are you saying no and standing him up if he’s your friend? Your alternate itinerary for tonight is sitting around annoying Yelena and hoping that Nat will want to spend time with you tonight. This sounds way more fun.

A distraction. A distraction from the feeling clawing at your insides, which won’t let you sleep at night until you get that goodnight text.

“A distraction sounds good,” you say, and he grins back at you. Only a moment later Yelena’s class comes flooding out of the science lab, and your beloved blonde Russian approaches you. You’re glad to see she’s recovering some of the usual bounce in her step, after last month’s mishap.

“Come on, Natasha is giving us a ride,” she tells you excitedly, offering Sam a brief nod.

“Actually, can you tell her make my own way home? Me and Sam are hitting the Boulevard.”

“Alright. But if you win enough tickets can you get me that stuffed otter they have in the window,” she asks hopefully, and beams when you nod. “You are the best. And don’t forget to call Ma if you won’t be home till late, or —”

“She’ll have a heart attack, I know,” you say patiently. “Love you.”

Natasha probably won’t even notice you’re gone. She won’t mind.

Famous last words.

Sam ends up dropping you home, and the two of you stop by a fast food place on your way, so you’re not home until ten. You stumble into the house with bleary eyes and a bug-eyed, oversized otter tucked under your arm, but a heart fuller than it’s been in a long while, and a smile on your face to match. That smile is quickly wiped off of your face as you turn around and lock eyes with Natasha, who is sat on the top of the stairs. She’s evidently waited up for you.

“Hi. Is Lena still up? I won this for her.” You hold up the otter lamely.

She shrugs, a gesture so small you nearly miss it in the half-light. “I don’t know.” Late at night when she’s tired, tinges of Russian begin to creep back into her otherwise perfectly ironed American accent — she always scowls and makes an effort to fix it whenever you point it out, but to you it’s adorable. It’s like an ever so slight glimpse into the real Natasha, the one who makes you heart-shaped pancakes and remembers the names of all your favourite movies. And in the months that are passing in your relationship you feel like you’re seeing that side to her less and less.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly after a few moments. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah?” you say uncertainly. This feels like a trap. “Y— uh, yeah, I did, thank you.” You swallow, hard, as a pit opens up in your stomach. “Are… are we okay?”

She hesitates. “Are you happy?”

“Huh?”

“With me. When you’re with me. Do you have fun like you did tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice is small and quiet. “I— I don’t know what you want me to say.”

She’s silent. Like she doesn’t even know what she wants from you. Cautiously, gingerly, you speak again.

“I had fun tonight in a way that I can’t with you,” you say carefully. “You never want to spend time with me unless we’re alone. I don’t really know what we are, I know we’re not dating, but it feels… I don’t know.” You pause for a second, and your next words sound uncertain of themselves. “It feels like… you’re ashamed of me.”

The words are finally out of your mouth, at long last. For a moment it’s like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, but it comes crashing back town twice as heavy when you see the be way your words physically crush her.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” she whispers. “I’m not… I just…” And then she says something so quiet that even as you strain you can’t catch it. “Um. Don’t worry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And while you do see her in the morning, nothing is the same. So you’re once again the bigger person in this relationship, the one taking care of her (and you’d do it forever, of course), and you give her exactly what you know she needs — some space, and some time. You’re not really sure what’s going through her head right now (you never are, to be honest), but what you do know is that she’d hate to feel smothered as she figures it out for herself. She’s more similar to her sister than she’d like to think. It’ll be okay, you tell yourself. You’ll give her what you know she needs, because sometimes you know her better than she knows herself, and trust that when she’s ready she’ll come to you.

But she doesn’t, and things are rocky between you and your love in the time that passes. Since the night you came home from the arcade, she’s been almost avoiding you. No more good morning or goodnight texts, no secret movie dates in her room, no more stargazing on the rooftop or late night drives. With every day that you wake up and meet her vacant gaze at the breakfast table you lose a little more hope. The end is nigh, you fear; the thing you’ve known all along, the fact that you were just a toy to her that she’ll dispose of when she’s bored, comes creeping back from the distant corner of your mind it was banished to, into the forefront — and you see it everywhere you go. In every tight-lipped look and sleepless night you pray for the end of this purgatory, whether that comes in the form of her embrace or her denial; anything but this wretched liminal space. This in-between where you don’t feel human to her.

Prom night rolls around. You and Yelena have indeed coordinated your outfits, just as planned, and the two of you are going together. (A slight and tiny part of you had hoped that maybe, somehow, Natasha would ask you to prom, and she would be your date. A much bigger part of you knew that would be her idea of purgatory.)

The two of you are carpooling with your friend group to the school, where your prom will be, in a limo that you all pitched in for. Darcy and Jane Foster, Makkari and Druig, and Wanda and Vision are all already piled in when the limo rolls up in front of your house — the last stop before the night truly begins.

“Interesting choice of interior decor,” Yelena muses, taking in the limo’s pink velvet seats and rhinestone-studded handles with thoughtfully narrowed eyes.

“Darcy picked it,” says Wanda monotonously.

She said we had to go all out for prom, Makkari adds with an eyeroll. The two of them earn lighthearted smacks from the target of their teasing.

You aren’t really sure what you’re actually meant to do at prom. Even in the movies, they’re never really very specific about what prom actually entails.

“What do you think we’ll do?” you ask Yelena, as the two of you hand in your coats to the concierge (a member of the student council who looks very stressed).

She snorts. “Judge people’s outfits, get drunk, take photos and dance, I’d say. I guess some people will be hooking up, too.”

“We will,” adds Darcy with a shameless wink as she passes the two of you, being dragged along by Jane. Your cheeks flush slightly, while Yelena sighs in affectionate long-suffering.

“Any updates on your super-secret girlfriend?” Yelena asks, and the usual guilty feeling pricks at your gut. She, of course, hasn’t been told of the conflict, because you’ve told her as little as possible. You don’t trust yourself to not break down out of guilt otherwise.

You try your best to be optimistic at first, but Yelena’s very quickly proven right. As soon as everyone’s arrived you tick off your first scheduled item on the prom itinerary — judging them — and you move swiftly onto the second.

“This tastes like shit,” you grimace as you sip gingerly from the drink Yelena presents you with. She bursts out laughing.

Before long, you’re feeling pleasantly fuzzy, and perfectly willing to embarrass yourself in front of your classmates on the dancefloor — so when Sam Wilson comes up to you proposing that you dance, twitchy as anything and evidently nervous out of his mind, it doesn’t feel as significant to you as it does to him that you accept.

He kisses your cheek when the dance ends, and you flush violently. But when he offers you his arm you take it, and he’s led along to a quiet afterparty back at Wanda’s house. It’s okay, you tell yourself, to be having fun with someone else. Natasha’s shown no interest in you for more than a month. It’s not that you don’t love her, because you do, but you can’t exactly force her to spend time with you, can you? It can’t cause any harm to have some fun with your friends.

But only a little down the road a certain redhead has shut herself in her room, and begins to ask herself why she’s behaved the way that she has.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au

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trentknd · 11 months

Text

"What do I do?" Trent mouthed in desperation while pointing at the little kid on his lap. You were both sitting under the garden's gazebo, enjoying some privacy from the garden party your mom had organised when your niece suddenly crept on your lover.

You laugh at his sheepishness and shrug your shoulders. "Your problem, not mine." You took a last bite from the meat on the skewer you were holding before getting up to help your mother clean up. "I'll be back soon, don't accidentally kill the child."

"No, no, no. Don't leave me here with her."

"She's not going to bite you, Trent." He turned his head to find the little girl giving him a toothy smile, albeit missing a few teeth. "She's allowed to though." You smile at him before leaving him with the tiny terror in a pink dress.

The little girl, that was around the size of the chair Trent was sitting on, started tugging lightly on his shirt. "Can you play with me, Uncle Trent?" She pouted, her small plastic tiara slightly falling off the top of her head.

"What do you want to play?" He asked and brought his fingers up to place the crown back on top. Her eyes resembled yours a lot, he thought. They were twinkling with a sort of mischievousness and purely melted his heart at the instant. The child could ask him to go to war right now and he'd probably gear himself up for it.

"Football!" She got up from his lap to show him the wee lilac ball she had brought up with her. He got up from his seat, eager to witness the little princess' skill at his sport.

"Princesses play football?"

"Better than you."

"Ah, I see." He grinned at her insolence as she held her head up in pride. "Show me what you got, then." At his words, she put the ball down on the grass and positioned herself behind it.

Her first kick led to the ball hitting him surprisingly hard on his chest. "Alright, let us do some passes to each other first?" When he saw her frown, he doubled down on his offer "Or you can kick the ball in any way you want it and I'll make sure to catch it."

Gathering that she preferred the latter, he held his hands up as soon as the child kicked the ball again. Her bubblegum pink attire and the glittery sneakers she was wearing formed an odd contrast with the force she was displaying playing the ball.

He appreciated her resilience through all the small games and skills she was learning from him. He wouldn't admit to you that he had accidentally hit her head several times whilst trying to teach her to juggle with the ball.

After going at it for a couple of minutes, Trent decided to switch it up and teach her some of his personal skills. "So I'm going to throw the ball and you're just going to stop it with the tip of your foot, okay?"

"Uncle Trent, I'm getting tired." She yawned at his plan, tiredness seeping through her tiny body. He nodded at her complaint and scooped her up to avoid letting her tire herself further.

Her figure was laying atop his upper body, his strong arms rounding her legs to secure her position. He would occasionally bounce her up and down, hearing that it caused her laughter to loudly erupt in his ear.

He didn't notice that you had been back from cleaning for the past fifteen minutes and fell spectator to his attachment to the small human. You didn't want to disrupt them at first, too entranced in his tremendous efforts to put away his shyness to make your niece happy in any capacity.

"Hey, she's not Robbo, you know?" You peeped from your concealed spot under the gazebo. He turned his head in surprise, your eyes matching the twinkle he had noticed in the child he was holding. "Training her to exhaustion at five years old and that."

His laugh reverberated in the small space you were standing on and you stuck your arms out to take her back from him. He reluctantly gave her back to you, waving her goodbye when she frowned at the separation.

You brought your niece up in your arms to cradle her and slightly rocked her, careful not to startle her. Your paramour stood next to you, an arm snaked around your waist, wearing a pensive expression. At that moment, your niece chose to tear him out of his thoughts by holding her hand up, waiting for him to match her action and high-five her. "Thank you for playing with me, Uncle Trent."

Her hand looked ridiculously small next to his, and she missed his high-five the first time before he finally clapped her hand back. His face was curiously intentive at the whole interaction, your heart swelling at the sight of him holding up her hand to kiss her knuckles.

"C'mon my love, we're leaving, yeah?" You heard your sibling scream to the kid in your arms. You walked out of the gazebo to join the rest of the guests, eventually spotting them in the bunch. After dropping your niece in their hands, and chatting out with the rest of the leaving invites, you went back to your beloved.

"You're not so bad with kids, you know." You beamed at him and he mimicked your earlier shrug to argue back in false modesty. Though, other words were put on his lips to mutter when he lowered his head to your ear.

"I'll make sure to put one in you tonight."

#trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold x reader #footballer x reader #footballer fanfiction #trent alexander arnold x y/n #trent alexander arnold #football imagines #trent alexander x you #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander-arnold

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7-wonders · 1 year

Note

reader has a strong personality, but sometimes she feels unsure of herself, her personality, her looks. in one of these days, feeling her bad mood, Dream reassures her, telling how much he admires and loves her, the way she's beautiful in every way, etc.

Jealousy, Jealousy

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

It started with Calliope.

To be clear, you absolutely supported Morpheus both coming to his ex-wife's aid and reconciling with her after their disastrous end (though the details were vague, you knew it had something to do with the son they shared, the one that Morpheus still couldn't bring himself to talk about). What had happened to Calliope at the hands of mortal men was absolutely horrific. If you had it your way, you'd hunt them both down and serve up a bit of vigilante justice. Morpheus forbade you from doing so, on the grounds that he had also been told no when wanting to do the exact same thing.

When Morpheus finally decided that it was time for the two to actually talk, you had met the Muse on your way out of the Dreaming to give them some space. After spending maybe three minutes with her, it was easy to reach the conclusion: Calliope is wonderful.

Not only is she stunning on the outside, but she has a kindness within that refused to be stamped out by her captors. She's so nice that, coming from anybody else, it would seem insincere. On Calliope, though, it's effortlessly natural. She seems like she's actually interested in talking to you, and not just playing nice because of societal conventions and you being Morpheus's current lover.

You trust Morpheus implicitly, but, considering how easy it was to see how Morpheus could have fallen head over heels in love with Calliope, you felt just a tinge of reluctance at leaving the two to resolve their issues. It was okay to be a little jealous, you reasoned with yourself; after all, everyone has that one ex that seems like "the one that got away." You're okay, and secure in who you are and your relationship.

Until Queen Titania came waltzing into the Dreaming.

The entire realm was in a tizzy over the sudden request from the Court of Faerie to send a delegation so that matters "concerning the two respective realms" could be discussed. According to Merv, Titania was going to again extend an offer of marriage to Morpheus. While this was quite the shock to you, a sympathetic Lucienne explained the regularity of such a proposal when you hid out in the library to escape all the excitement of the impending visit.

"Isn't she married, though?" you asked, shoving a dreamer's book harshly into its appointed spot. If you were going to be taking up space, you had figured that the least you could do was help out with some shelving.

"Queen Titania and King Oberon have...what you would call an open relationship, I suppose," Lucienne said. "If anything, their relationship is never as strong as it is when both parties have paramours to entertain them."

"Hm." The laws and customs of other realms were something you had yet to get used to, and you assumed that it would remain that way. "But why is she so fixated on Morpheus? I mean, obviously he's insanely powerful, but surely there's other eligible rulers?"

Lucienne's lips quirked at your subtle dig towards Titania. "There are, but she has never truly been capable of moving past the dalliance that she and His Lordship had."

"A 'dalliance?" Your voice came out high-pitched, the shock of what you learned making you forget how to talk.

When it was merely lighthearted gossip, Merv had shown you a portrait of the Faerie queen in a book detailing the various realms and those that rule them. She had blue-tinged skin and flowing black hair, and though her features were incredibly dainty, there was a strength carried in her regal posture that screamed that she was not to be trifled with. Though she looked nothing like Calliope, she was just as beautiful. Now, you hated that stupid picture, because she was probably twice as pretty when face-to-face with her.

Lucienne realized the error of what she said only after you reacted, and suddenly found herself interested in checking off something on the parchment she was holding.

"It really was nothing more than just that: a simple dalliance," she attempted to reassure. "They only carried on with the affair for a couple of decades, if that."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? I'm only a couple of decades old!" Breathing through the panic that had risen in your throat, you held your hands out in a placating gesture (who you were placating besides yourself, you're not sure) and nodded. "Okay. Okay! So, who ended things between them?"

"Lord Morpheus. He was entirely unimpressed with Queen Titania, and he remains so. Honestly, I believe that the only reason he agreed to the fling in the first place was because of boredom." Lucienne took your hands in hers. "You have nothing to worry about, I promise."

"I know!" You hoped that she couldn't tell how blatantly you were lying. "Um, I think I'm waking up. I'll see you after the Faerie delegation visit."

Since fae were masters of deception on their best days, and you were painfully human, it was safer for you not to be in the Dreaming proper during their stay. Thus, the next time you went to bed and each subsequent night until the delegation left, you would be back in your own dreamscape like every other normal dreamer. Probably for the best, considering how you were currently feeling.

When Lucienne let go of your hands, you used your handy dandy skill of being conscious of your dreaming to wake yourself up. Back in your bedroom, you laid against the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, feeling as the green monster of jealousy began to eat at you.

Honestly, how could you not be jealous? You had just found out that your boyfriend—who, by the way, is an all-powerful, eldritch ruler of dreams and nightmares—has had relationships with a literal goddess and the queen of Faerie. And those are only the two that you knew about! Considering said boyfriend is also probably billions of years old, you weren't sure that you want to know about the others.

If they're anything like Calliope and Titania, then they're surely perfect beings of unfathomable legend. You could see them now, the long line of gorgeous hearts left broken by Morpheus. All of them well-suited to be the partner of the Dreamlord, yet none of them able to pass his test.

That did not bode well for you, neither perfect nor of unfathomable legend, neither ethereal nor regal. You're simply you: loud and outspoken and a little bit clumsy and painfully, utterly human. Normally, such a thing wouldn't bother you. If anybody had an issue with you, then that was their problem, not yours. But what happens when you have an issue with yourself?

You've never deluded yourself into thinking that you were equal to Morpheus in any way. In your relationship, yes, you're on equal ground with him. As just the two of you? You're leagues below him, which, again, has historically not bothered you. It was just a fact of life, until you encountered one ex and heard all of the buzz surrounding another and learned that there are others who would very much be equal to Morpheus.

The jealousy and inadequacy that you're feeling creates a burning pit in your chest that threatens to swallow you up. You needed to do something in an attempt to try and take your mind off of the invasive, all-consuming thoughts, which is how you find yourself sitting on a large blanket spread out underneath a tree in the park and angrily biting into grapes so that Matthew—keeping you company since he was banned from the Faerie visit on account of his cheeky insubordination and how that may look to guests—can eat the other half. Unfortunately, Matthew's doing more avoiding being hit by the grapes of your wrath than actually eating said grapes.

After the fourth grape you've tossed at him with far more force than necessary, Matthew squawks indignantly and puffs out his chest. "Jeez, you don't have to throw them at me!"

"Sorry," you mutter.

"It's okay. I mean, I like grapes just as much as the next guy, but dodging them does not make for a fun eating experience."

You don't laugh, not even a pity laugh if you didn't find it funny, so it shouldn't be a surprise that Matthew hops onto your lap and looks up at you. If anybody can tell that you're not a hundred percent, it's Matthew, whose emotional intelligence is far more keen than one would expect.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Matthew asks.

You shrug. "Just...thinking."

"About what?"

There's no point in lying, especially to Matthew. "About how cool and pretty my boyfriend's exes are."

"Oh no, Killala?"

You look at him in bewilderment, not expecting to hear a name that's not at all the two that you've been stewing over. "Who the fuck is Killala?"

"Nobody, don't worry about that," he hurries to cover his tracks. "You were obviously talking about..."

"Calliope and Titania." You throw a little bit more venom into the latter's name, but in your opinion, it's deserved. She really needs to learn how to take 'no' for an answer.

Matthew shakes his head and affectionately nips the bottom of your shirt. Despite your foul mood, you appreciate the gesture. "Aw, there's nothing to worry about with either of them!"

"Really? I shouldn't be worried about the goddess and the fae queen?" The sarcasm comes out pretty thickly, and you close your eyes and breathe through your nose to try and tamp down the flames of anger licking at your tongue.

"Calliope and Dream have so much baggage between them. Seriously, I'm not going to get into it, because it's not my place to do so, but trust me when I say that their relationship completely ran its course. And Titania? Dream can't stand her!"

"Yeah, but what if one day he and Calliope decide to put the baggage aside and try again? Or what if Titania's proposal makes sense for the realm?"

"That would never happen. They're his exes for a reason."

You sigh and scritch at Matthew's little head. "His exes are goddesses and fae and queens and who knows what other ethereal type of classification! And I'm just me."

"And 'just you' are quite remarkable." You don't have to turn around to see who's speaking, because their voice is as familiar to you as your own.

"Morpheus," you greet, choosing to focus your attention on Matthew. "Finish your business with Faerie?"

"Yes. It went about as expected, which is to say, it was a train wreck."

You can't help the smile that twitches your lips upwards at the use of such casual slang. Morpheus takes a seat next to you on the blanket, but you still refuse to look at him in a stubborn attempt to hold onto what little pride you have left after spilling your heart and being overheard by the very person you were most afraid of hurting with these feelings.

"The Faerie court has departed for their own realm, Matthew. You are free to return to the Dreaming."

"Awesome! I actually think Eve has a couple of tasks for me, so I think I'm gonna head out." Matthew says this like it's his own idea and not Morpheus's. He hops up onto your shoulder, nipping lightly at your ear in farewell. "Good luck," Matthew whispers to you before flying up into the air and back to the Dreaming.

You and Morpheus are left alone together, a prospect that normally thrills you. Now though, you're simply thinking that you've never heard silence quite so loud. Is he mad at you, or is he simply unsure of what to say? You're not sure you want to know the answer, but this stalemate can't go on any longer.

Hesitantly, you ask, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know that you feel that you are inadequate compared to my previous relationships." Morpheus gently grabs your chin with his cool fingers and turns your gaze to meet his. "Which, I must add, is completely and unequivocally false."

"Sorry. You, uh, caught me at a pretty self-conscious moment."

He shakes his head. "Do not apologize for how you feel. I simply ask that you might explain why it is you feel this way."

"How could I not feel this way, Morpheus?"

He looks at you with a blank stare that says that he really doesn't understand why you feel this way. It's kind of frustrating, honestly. Not only do you have to have stupid human feelings, but they make no sense to your partner.

"Are you really going to make me repeat what I told Matthew?" you ask. "Your exes are all far more evenly matched to you than I am. They're goddesses and fae queens and other beings who I've probably never even heard of because my human mind couldn't fathom such power."

"And you do not believe that you possess such power?"

"Uh, no." It's pretty obvious that you don't (you'd know if you did, with how many hours you spent staring at household items and willing them to levitate after watching Matilda for the first time).

"You do not know the power that you hold over me, a power which I am glad to let you have. It is far more dangerous than what any previous lover of mine has wielded, for I do not believe I have ever loved someone as wholly as I love you. I am passionate, and have often been told that I am 'too much.' Yet, my realm and my function always came first, and would be placed above all else.

"For you, though? I would give you any thing you wished for if you only were to ask. I would pluck the stars from the sky and string them onto a necklace to decorate your neck. I would raise armies to defend you from the most minor of slights. I would create entire worlds for you, and destroy them thusly if that was what you wished. I even believe that I would abandon my function if you requested it of me."

You gasp at the sheer weight of Morpheus's words, knowing the solemnity of them. "I would never ask you to do that."

"I know. But you needed to know the lengths that I would go to in order to make you happy. That is how much I love you."

"I'm hardly consort material. I laugh too hard at stupid videos and I try really hard to garden but usually end up killing my plants and I get shy around new people."

Out of the examples you listed, only the last could potentially transfer over to any consort activities you would be expected to do. But you're already feeling vulnerable, so you're just laying it all on the line today.

Next to you, Morpheus smiles besottedly and shakes his head at your antics. Instead of calling you out on it, he simply picks up one of your hands and kisses the back of it before enclosing it between both of his hands.

"None of those are disadvantages to you or your personality. I want you, my starlight," he says earnestly. "And do you know why that is?"

You shake your head.

"Because you are exceptional. You are wonderfully kind to everyone, person and creature and dream and nightmare. You are incandescently beautiful in a way that makes me keenly aware of the fact that I don't need to breathe, because I suddenly feel as though I need to catch my breath when I see you. You make me feel alive for the first time in a long, long time. You make me want to be better, to create something better."

God, you're going to start crying. Any doubts that you may have had about yourself and Morpheus are simply gone, with just a few words uttered. That's just what Morpheus does, though: he always knows just what you need to hear.

The only reason you keep the tears at bay is through sheer force, and even then a couple slip past your waterline and fall down your face. Morpheus looks a little bewildered at the sight, but you shake your head.

"These are happy tears, don't worry," you assure him. "I'm just...so happy, and I love you so much."

Morpheus's gaze turns soft, and he kisses you sweetly before laying his forehead against yours. "And I love you. Never doubt that, for my love for you comes as naturally as your breathing, and it is as endless as I am."

"Y'know, you're quite the romantic, Morpheus." You can't resist kissing him again, not when his lips are literally an inch away from yours.

"Only for you."

Morpheus smiles against your lips before begrudgingly pulling away so that he can stand up, and you stand with him.

"Shall we return to the Dreaming, my witty, beautiful love?" He dips his lips to your ear before whispering, "I'd quite like to see just how in your element you look when sitting on my throne."

Saying yes is one of the easiest things you've ever done.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #the sandman imagine #the sandman #i kind of hate the ending but whatever

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constantinerkives · 10 months

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Million Dollar (Wo)Man // teaser, (M)

PAIRING: Hotel Magnate! Yoo Jimin x Fem! Reader WARNINGS: Sugar Mommy AU, college AU, age gap, OC is in her final year of college while YJM is 34, profanity, strangers to paramours, Chopard and Cannes Film Festival Karina, good lord. OC has a slight crush on the dean lmao. OC short-circuits when pretty, older women talk to her, smut, more warnings to come SYNOPSIS: Money in exchange for companionship? Why not! If only she wasn't the dean's half-sister. Yikes.

"Excuse me, miss," Your ears perk upon hearing an unfamiliar deep yet feminine voice. Sultry and alluring. "But have you seen Joohyun?"

Joohyun? Your brows furrow. How can someone say the dean's name so casually?

"Joohyun?" Your voice came out as a squeak, and you fought the urge to palm your face. "You mean our dean?"

"I'm looking for-"

Hyunnie?

Karina holds out her hand for you to shake, "I'm Karina Bae, her half-sister. And you are?"

Half-sister?

"Easy, Karina." The dean chides, "She's my student,"

"Of course," Karina grins, "I can't come back to my alma mater empty-handed now, can I?"

"Thank you, Karina."

The latter merely hums in reply, "I'll get going now. There's no need for me to stay if a party lacks drinks." She grins while Irene rolls her eyes. "It's protocol,"

"Sure," Karina turns to you, "Take care, Miss Seol."

Perhaps she was waiting for you to hold your hand out again, but your brain decided that risking another touch from this gorgeous woman would have undesirable consequences. A wave sufficed for now.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Karina."

You were wrong. Karina doesn't even have to touch you to get you woozy. Her wolfish smirk was enough to make your knees wobble. She departs, leaving your eyes to follow her lithe physique.

COMING SOON!

#karina x reader #aespa x reader #female reader #kpop oneshots #kpop imagines #yoo jimin #yoo jimin x reader #constantinewrites #karina smut

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morallyinept · 3 months

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A full character analysis on OBERYN MARTELL from the TV show GAME OF THRONES.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Oberyn Nymeros Martell

Nickname(s): The Red Viper

Appears in: Game Of Thrones, 2014 (first appearance on screen in episode 1, season 4, seen at approx. 09:13)

Age (if known): Oberyn is stated to be around 42 when he died

Sexuality: Bisexual

Nationality: Dornish. According to author George R.R. Martin, Dorne is loosely inspired by Spain, particularly the south's Moorish heritage, which culturally sets it apart from the rest of the country and of Western Europe.

Family: Eight daughters (Obara Sand, Nymeria Sand, Tyene Sand, Sarella Sand, Elia Sand, Obella Sand, Dorea Sand & Loreza Sand). Younger brother of Doran Martell, younger brother of Elia Martell

Spouse/Partner: Ellaria Sand, paramour

Relationship Status: In a sexually open relationship with his paramour, Ellaria Sand

Current Living Status: Deceased, killed by The Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane

Languages Spoken: English, Dornish

Education: Oberyn studied poisons at the Citadel, earning six links of the Maester's chain, rendering him a specialist in his field and a master at poisons. He left when he got bored of studying.

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Prince of Dorne

Special Skill(s): Fighting, poisons, bedding many lovers

Notable Colleague(s): Ellaria Sand, Tyrion Lannister

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: None notable

Prominent Feature(s): Slight greying in his hair, beard and moustache

Injuries: Oberyn is knocked to his feet by The Mountain unexpectedly during the fight, and punched in the mouth, resulting him losing most of his teeth. He has his eyes gouged out by The Mountain using his thumbs. Then having his skull crushed and caved in is what ultimately kills him

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: Seductive, cunning, vengeful

Oberyn is from Dorne. Dorne is one of the nine constituent regions of the Seven Kingdoms. It is the southernmost part of the continent of Westeros, located thousands of miles from Winterfell and the North, and has a harsh desert climate. Sunspear, also known as the Old Palace, is the seat of House Nymeros Martell and the capital of the Principality of Dorne. According to author George R.R. Martin, Dorne is loosely inspired by Spain, particularly the south's Moorish heritage, which culturally sets it apart from the rest of the country and of Western Europe. Oberyn speaks with an accent reminiscent of his heritage from Dorne, of which Pedro mentioned he used his own father's Chilean accent as inspiration.

Oberyn is seeking vengeance for the murder of his sister Elia against her murderer, The Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane. He also named his fifth daughter after his sister.

Oberyn has eight illegitimate bastard daughters (born outside of marriage), collectively known as the "Sand Snakes". Four of which he had with his current partner, his paramour, Ellaria Sand.

Whilst in love, Oberyn and Ellaria are not married as Ellaria herself is a bastard (born outside of marriage). Although Oberyn is allowed to be with her, marrying her would not be allowed as in Dorne as a Prince cannot marry a bastard.

As soon as Oberyn arrives in Kings Landing, arriving in the dawn to avoid a greeting party, he immediately goes to the brothel to indulge with Ellaria.

Oberyn's overall attitude was that life is short, and one must enjoy all of life's pleasures while one can. He would rather live life on his own terms, openly challenging his enemies and risk destruction rather than live by someone else's rules. Rather ironically, it was Oberyn's zest for life, his temper, overconfidence, love for his sister, and hatred towards Ser Gregor Clegane that ultimately led to his death.

Despite Oberyn dying at the hands of The Mountain, he was still able to extract revenge from beyond the grave. While The Mountain is being treated for his injuries, it is discovered that before the duel Oberyn had his spear blade coated with Manticore venom, which causes The Mountain's already severe wounds from the fight to putrefy horribly, leaving him in a catatonic, decaying, and agonized state.

Pedro learned Wushu to fight with a spear in the fight scene against The Mountain to enable Oberyn to move with speed and grace.

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Opening scene) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, orange silken undershirt, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 2 - (King Joffrey's wedding ceremony and feast scenes) Cream/white robes embellished with satin, silken embellished scarf wrapped around waist, leather boots, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 3 - (In the brothel scene) Dark black embellished scarf, dark lounge pants, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 4 - (Walking with Cersei and on the council scenes) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, yellow silken undershirt, sand coloured pants, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 5 - (Talking with Lord Varys scene) Yellow/orange silken embroidered robe, orange silken under shirt, leather brown belt, leather boots

Outfit 6 - (Tyrion's trial and visiting Tyrion in his cell) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, yellow silken undershirt, sand coloured pants, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 7 - (Fighting the mountain scene) Brown leather snakeskin embossed armour, brown leather belt, brown pants, brown leather boots. Matching helmet, which he did not wear.

Accessories: Oberyn wears a brass/bronze pendant with floral detailing on the plate. He wears a gold band ring on each thumb. His belts also act as sheaths for his dagger and sword.

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Oberyn has a dagger he wears on his right hip in a sheath on his belt. The dagger has a dark handle, possibly onyx, with red jewelled detailing blended into the handle.

Oberyn's spear is entwined with a golden snake and the shape of the blade is said to be modelled to represent a snake's tongue. He laced the spear head with poison. The tassels are made from snakeskin.

Oberyn's sword has a snake head handle and has the same black and red jewelled detailing as his dagger. Oberyn is not seen using his sword at all, instead favouring to use another spear when his first one is broken by The Mountain.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Oberyn is not seen using any forms of transport, however as a Prince he would have his own horse. Tyrion sets out to greet the cavalcade of horses, however Oberyn, in place of his brother Doran, had already arrived in the early dawn in secret. According to the book version of Oberyn, his horse is a Sand Steed, "a stallion black as sin with a mane and tail the colour of fire" when arriving in King's Landing.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Oberyn's full dialogue from the show, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Oberyn Martell A Fire & Ice Wiki, Oberyn Martell A Wiki Of Westeros, Behind The Scenes The Viper & The Mountain

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#oberyn martell #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #oberyn martell game of thrones #game of thrones #the red viper #pedro pascal character database #oberyn martell character analysis #pedro pascal character analysis

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strniohoeee · 5 months

Text

Paramour Pt. 2

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N and Dominic head over to the triplets house for Madi’s birthday party. Reader and Chris express some heated words, and Chris is hurt by them. So what happens when someone can’t keep a secret, and things take a turn for the worst?🗣️

Warnings⚠️:. Fighting?? Chaos?? And just all around crazy shit🫢

Song for the imagine: Unfaithful- Rihanna

Read part 1 here

And to him, I just can’t be true

And I know that he knows I’m unfaithful

And it kills him inside

To know that I am happy with some other guy

I can see him dying

The last time I had any contact with Chris was exactly a week ago when I fell asleep in his arms, and awoke to an empty bed. I knew it was too good to be true. Shamelessly I got dressed, grabbing my stuff and headed home.

The only thing that started to stress me out was Dominic. He started looking at me weirdly, asking me weird questions and wanting to be with me every second of the day. His suspicions stopped when I spent every second of every day with him. Not by want or choice, but because Chris hadn’t contacted me again.

Dominic loosened up on me, but I knew he was still onto me. I had to tread carefully because any little slip up, and it would be over. This made me anxious and I think he took notice of this.

Today was Madi’s birthday party at the triplets house, and of course he wanted to come with me. He was actually friends with Matt, so this made it a bit dicey. On edge since the morning, but trying to play it cool.

“You almost ready babe?” He called out from my living room

“Yeah baby! One moment” I yelled back

I looked in the mirror and finished with my hair, makeup and outfit. But not liking the reflection looking back at me. I was upset with myself, but not upset because I was cheating. I was upset that I couldn’t keep Chris for myself. I was a piece of shit honestly.

I walked out to the living room showing Dominic my outfit.

“Looking good as always” he would say

A compliment I was tired of hearing. Chris would call me beautiful, gorgeous, a goddess, his beautiful, beautiful Y/N. All I got from Dom was a “looking good”…..whatever

“Thank you” I said giving him a weak smile

I grabbed Madi’s gift, and we walked out to his car. Hopping in as we started to head over. I lived 40 minutes from the triplets, and the whole ride my thoughts were racing. Having to act nonchalant with Chris like we didn’t just fuck a week ago.

“You okay?” Dom asked me

“What? Oh uh yeah I’m good” I said snapping out of it

“You seem anxious” he said

“Me anxious? Why do you say that?” I asked getting more nervous

“You’re rubbing your left ear, only something you do when you’re anxious” he said

This set me back. This was the first thing Chris noticed about me after a while of hanging out. I would rub my left ear when I was nervous and he would always laugh at me for it. In this moment when I needed to be serious all I could think about was my Christopher

“Oh well you know get togethers, they make me a little nervous” I said laughing

“I didn’t know that” he said looking over at me

“Oh? Well now you do” I said smiling at him

We engaged in a few conversations here and there, and before I knew it we pulled up to the triplets house, and it looked like we were the last ones to get there….fuck my life

We walked in and up the stairs everyone immediately turning to us

“Heyyyy” Nick called out over the music

“Hi guys” I said waving at them

We walked into the kitchen where they were all standing and talking. I walked up to Madi first giving her a hug as Dom said hi to Nick and Matt first

I handed her her gift and she thanked me as we chatted a bit.

Chris came up to me poking my side

“Hey stranger long time no see” he said opening his arms for a hug

What a player I laughed to myself

“Hi Chris” I said hugging him

Dominic walked over

“Yooo Chris” he said dabbing him up

God this was so painfully awkward to see in person….

“Dominic what’s up” he said smiling in his face like he wasn’t fucking me last week

“Nothing much, how you been man it’s been a while” he said

“Oh I been good you know just filming and hanging out with friends” he said

I slithered away and made my rounds to everyone else hugging them. Saying hi and giving hugs to Nick, Matt, Tril, Larray, Madi’s mom, Nate, Justin, Mary Lou and Jimmy…the whole fucking crew for Madi’s party

“Ohh Y/N we haven’t seen you in so long” Mary Lou said pulling me in for a tight hug

“I knowwwww I haven’t been to Boston in so long” I said

“It’s so good to see you again” she said pulling away

“Yes it’s great to see you guys doing well” I said looking at her and Jimmy

We had all talked and laughed. Just all catching up and having a great time for Madi’s party.

Mary Lou and Laura were in the kitchen setting up an extra table to connect to the other one, and preparing the food.

I went upstairs to use the restroom. But also I really needed a break from everyone. My mind was flooded with so many anxious thoughts. I had a bad feeling about today, and I couldn’t shake it off. I really wanted to leave, but we had just got here

As I left the bathroom and turned off the light Chris came around the corner. Scaring me

“Oh shit you scared me” I said letting out a breath of air

“Oh I didn’t mean to” he said smiling at me

“So uh…how’s it going” I said trying to break the awkwardness

“How’s it going? Really” he said laughing

“Sorry this is awkward for me okay” I said looking at him

“Come down to my room for a bit” he said pulling me in

“Chris no! We have to stop” I said pulling his hands off of me

“Why? Don’t you want this?” He said looking at me confused

“Chris I don’t know what I want okay” I said scoffing

“Yes you do” he replied

“Listen we can’t keep doing this okay” I told him looking him in the eyes

“Why not?” He says pulling me in again

“Stop okay! You’re hurting me, I’m hurting you, and we’re hurting Dominic” I said roughly pulling his hands off of me

“Oh come on baby you know it’s not like that” he said

“We can’t keep doing this. You had me and you didn’t want me and you dropped me” I said stepping back

“But I want you now” he said reaching out to grab me again

“No okay! You can’t just pick and choose when you want me. I’m tired of running into your arms every other week. This is bad…very bad for my relationship” I said shaking my head

“What made you change? We've been doing this for so long?” He said stepping back

“I just…” I couldn’t spit it out

“Huh?” He said sticking his head out

“I can’t keep doing this because it’s you who I want, and I can’t have you because you don’t want me. This is done whatever we had going on is over” I said

“Don’t be like that” he said getting upset

“Chris! It is over okay” I said getting upset

His demeanor changed, no longer his sweet face, but an angry one. He scoffs and goes to respond when Dominic appears

“Oh there you are!” He said looking at us

“Everything alright?” He says looking at Chris

“Yeah everything’s alright” I said

“We were just having a bit of an argument” Chris says giving him a fake smile

“Oh?” Dom says cocking his head to the side

“Yeah Chris is an idiot” I said pulling Dominic with me as we walked downstairs

A little more time passed, and Chris kept shooting daggers into my head from beside me. I however was ignoring his gaze as my anxiety began to spike.

“Alright dinners done” Laura called out

We all made our way to the table picking our seats

I of course sat next to Dominic, and Chris sat diagonally from me in front of Dom. I felt his stares and I tried to ignore him.

We were all eating with occasional conversations. I looked at Madi who was seated in front of me.

“Are you doing anything else for your birthday?” I asked her

“As of right now I’m not too sure my mom has something special planned so she says” Madi says to me

“Ohhh fun, and how about that guy you were seeing?” I asked her

“well I’m still seeing him, but nothing crazy, but there’s another guy I’m also seeing” she said laughing

“Ouuu I see! Got your options” i said laughing

“I know someone like that” Chris says looking at me

My eyes widening slightly at him

“Except she has a boyfriend and is messing around with a guy, so at least you Madi aren’t seeing a guy who has a girl” Chris goes on to state as he looks over at Madi

“Oh yeah I would never” she says laughing

If there’s a god out there, and if so God, if you can hear me…take me out right now I plead in my head

“Right isn’t that crazy like just break up with the guy” he says taking a sip of his drink

I really wanted to strangle him right now, but I kept my composure

“You know I had an ex like that” Dominic says to Chris

“Ohhhh really?” He says his eyes lighting up as he sits up in his seat

“Yeah, I couldn’t figure out why she would do such a thing” he said shaking his head

“I wonder why? You seem like an amazing guy” Chris says smiling as he nods his head at him

“Yeahhh but it’s alright I got Y/N, and she’s amazing” he says looking over at me and nudging me with his elbow

I look over at him taking a sip of my drink as I nod at him.

“Oh yeah I’m sure Y/N is the best” Chris said

“She really is” he responded back

Whoever has my voodoo doll right now stab it in the fucking eyes. Take me out of my misery already. This was going to go down hill I could already tell.

“Chr- Dominic! Could you uh pass me a piece of bread” I said clearing my throat really hoping my slip up fell on deaf ears, but I know they didn’t. Chris eyes glanced over at me and he lightly chuckled

Dom gave me a quick Look before passing me a piece of bread

“Thank you baby” I said smiling at him

He just nodded at me, his gaze lingering on me before going back to eating.

“So Y/N how have you been?” Mary Lou asks me

“Oh I’ve been good you know just working” I said smiling at her

“Oh I bet Chris has been telling me all about it” she says

I blink slowly trying to think of how to respond, while Dominic looks over at me in a questionable manner

“Really?” I said through my teeth

“Yeah! I’m so glad you guys are hanging out again” she states

Chris is looking down in embarrassment as he shoves food in his mouth

“Hanging out?” Dominic says looking over at me

“Well yeah you know I hang out with them all the time” I say to him

“Yeah he told me about how you guys saw Barbie and he cried” she said laughing

“You saw Barbie with Chris? You told me you went to see it with Courtney” Dom says fully turning to look at me

The kitchen going dead silent, I swear everyone could hear my heart beating out of my chest

“Oh uhh I saw it two times” I said

“What’s going on here?” He says looking between the both of us

“NOTHING” we both shout at the same time

“Are you….are you seeing Chris?” He asks me laughing

“What?” I said taking a sip of water

“You’re seeing Chris aren’t you” he says standing up

“No, no I’m not” I said looking up at him

“Are you having sex with my girl?” He suddenly turns to ask Chris

“DOM! Don’t be irrational” I said pulling at his arm

“No! Shut up” he says to me

“HEY DONT SAY THAT” everyone practically yells at him

“Are you two fucking? I’m going to ask one last time” he says looking at me

“You can not ask such a thing” I said shaking my head at him

“You piece of shit” he says looking at Chris

“Dom don’t! This isn’t his fault” I said looking at him

“Oh my god….you fucked Chris? You cheated on me?” He says running his hands through his hair

“I..” the words couldn’t even come out of my mouth

“How long?” He asks us

“We should go” I said standing up again

“HOW LONG” he yells

“Let’s leave now” I say pushing him back to walk out of the kitchen

“A year” Chris blurts out

Dom and I both stop and look over at Chris

“A year?” Dom says laughing

“Dom listen” I began to say

“A FUCKING YEAR? YOUVE BEEN CHEATING ON ME FOR A YEAR….” He says walking away and runni. His hands through his hair

“Dom please listen to me okay” I say trying to plead with him

“I can’t” he says rubbing his hands on his face

I turn around and look at Chris

“What have you done” I said looking at him

“I can’t hide this anymore” he responded

“This is not how it was supposed to go” I said

My world was crumbling and I had an audience to watch….how embarrassing

“I’m going to kill him” Dom says quietly

“We need to leave now” I said to Dom

“Don’t forget to take your black lace thong with you…you left it last week” Chris says with a smug expression

Oh my god….

“I’m gonna fucking KILL HIM” Dom yells

“STOP IT” I yelled pushing him back

“YOURE RUINING THE PARTY YOU ASSHOLE” I said to him

“I’m ruining the party? You been fucking Chris for a YEAR” he says yelling the last part

“And she loved every minute of it” Chris says standing up

“STOP” I yelled looking over at Chris

Next thing I know Dom pushed me out of the way and charged over to Chris. Everyone trying to hold him back, but he broke free

He shoved Chris

“You think youre hot shit for fucking my girl” he said

“Listen she wanted it” he says shrugging his shoulders

Next thing I know, Dom's fist connected with Chris' nose. Sending him back a few feet

“Dominic stop this” I plead trying to get to him

Chris immediately starts punching Dom and a huge brawl breaks out

What have I done….this was not how it was supposed to go

Everyone screaming for them to stop as the guys tried to pull them apart

They were scuffling on the floor, and all that could be heard was screaming, cursing and things falling down

“Get off of him” Matt started to say

Somehow they got back up and Chris slammed him onto the table. Glass breaking and dishes falling to the floor.

I have never wanted to disappear more than now

“Madi I’m so sorry” I say looking over at her

“Don’t worry about it” she says pulling me in

“I fucked up big time” I said looking at her

“Listen this is free entertainment okay” she says giving me a reassuring smile

Finally the guys were able to separate them

“Fuck you” Chris yelled at him

“You’re a piece of shit. Going after a man’s girl” he says smugly

“That’s not how it went…ask your girl” Chris says spitting blood on the floor

��The fuck are you saying” Dom states back

“Y/N never wanted you. It’s me who she wants. She stayed with you because she pities you. Go on ask her” Chris says laughing at him

“Is this true?” Dom asked me

“I think you should leave” I said looking down

“Are you serious right now?” He says defeated

“Just go okay….go” I said looking at him

“I can’t believe you right now” he says scoffing at me

Jimmy and Justin get Dom outside, and I run over into the kitchen to clean up the mess

“I’m so sorry guys…I messed up badly and I ruined everything” I said picking up glass

“Listen Y/N you may have done the wrong thing, but you need to make this right” Laura said

“Well clean this, go check on Chris” Mary says giving me sad eyes

I nodded and walked down to Chris' room.

I heard him in the bathroom spitting blood into the sink

“I’m sorry” I said to him in a whisper

“This wasn’t your fault” he said looking at me through the mirror

“Yes it is, and it has been for the last year” I said walking into the bathroom fully

“I threw you under the bus, and that was wrong. I was just upset” he said spitting more blood out

“Don’t worry about that, let me clean you up” I said

Chris sat on the toilet after rinsing his mouth with water while I took out the first aid kit.

“Let me see” I said

I examined his face. His blue eyes casting brighter against the dark blood that was peppered along his skin.

I wiped the blood from his nose, and from his busted lip. Cleaning it with peroxide so that it wouldn’t burn.

His left under eye slowly becomes purple with a bruise.

“He got you good” I said looking at him

“I know” he says looking at me

“But you got him better” I said rubbing ointment on his bruise

“And I got to keep his girl” he replied laughing a bit

“Chris” I said looking at him with a blank expression

“Too soon?” He says laughing and then wincing at the pain from the busted lip

“Too soon” I said in a hushed tone

I looked down at his hands, his knuckles cut, bleeding ns bruised

I wiped his hands clean and cleaned them with peroxide.

“I guess I was just so tired of seeing you unhappy with him” he randomly blurts out

“So you caused a big scene?” I said looking into his eyes

“I suppose so” he replied

“I wanted to break up with him on my own time” I said to Chris

“Well I want you now, and I couldn’t wait for you to keep brushing it off” he said

“You want me?” I said wiping his knuckled again

“I was just so scared of commitment. It’s a Scary thing, you know. To give all your time and energy to someone, and they could turn around and vanish” he said in a whisper

“I wouldn’t do that to you” I said rubbing ointment on his knuckles

“I know that now” he said

“You were the only man I was ever 100% about, and when I couldn’t have you as my own. I settled for whatever part of you I could have. I used Dominic to fill that cold void of you not by my side, and the warmth would come back when I laid in your bed as you worshiped my body” I stated

“I have always been 100% about you, and I let my stupid thoughts get in the way. When I saw you with Dom I was hurt, and I was angry with myself for not realizing sooner that…” be cut himself off

“That what?” I said reading his eyes for an answer

“That I love you Y/N” he says looking into my eyes

“That I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. From the moment you walked into my life to the moment you walked out. Because I knew deep down you were the one for me” he says scanning my face

“I love you Chris” I said looking down at him

“The love I had for you caused me pain and pleasure all at once. To know that I had you, and I let you slip right through my fingers. I should’ve fought for us harder” I said closing the first aid kit

“It was I who should’ve fought for us” he said standing up

“I love you Christopher” I said looking up at him

“And I love you Y/N” he says

Chris pulled me in, rubbing his right thumb over my bottom lip. Looking at me really taking me in.

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/N” he whispers before crashing our lips together

This kiss was the last piece to my puzzle. He was my everything. His lips molded to mine in a way no others could.

Chris knew me and I knew him.

I was no longer a paramour, but a muse that would keep us going….I loved him with every fiber in my body

He was mine for all of eternity.

The End

Alrightttt part 2 hahahah! I hope you guys enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!❤️❤️ I love yall sooooo much, and I’m so grateful for the support yall are amazing…much love 🤭🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

@rac00ns-are-c00l4 @slumpedvioooo

#sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader smut #christopher sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplet smut #chris sturniolo imagine

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