#He will set your fears free (Lace)

[ctrlhope]

Butterfly (m)

synopsis: he’s been watching you. waiting, stalking his prey. waiting for you to tangle your pretty little wings into his web. chasing you. hunting you. making you play his games until you realise the truth that lies behind your eyes.

j.jungkook x f.reader

୧ ‧₊˚┊: wc: 3.6k

୧ ‧₊˚┊: genre: yandere, serial killer au, college au, dark content

୧ ‧₊˚┊: content: yandere!killer!jk, dubcon, predator / prey, manipulation, fear play, mask kink, slight sub space, slight knife play, strangers to lovers, “public” sex, drug use (alcohol), mentions of blood / injury, threats, allusions to kidnapping, dom!jk, fingering, rough sex, he’s mean but still sweet, obsessed!soft!jk at the end <33

୧ ‧₊˚┊: notes: found this in my drafts back from halloween and i never posted it! so here you go, to hold you over until my long fics are done <33 halloween fic in april lmaooo

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content

Bum. Bum. Bum.

Your heartbeat is in your ears, pulse racing. It was too loud. Everything is too loud. It’s all you can hear. It’s all you can think about as your heels dig into the harsh forest floor. Your shoes long since been abandoned, mud caking your feet as you try to run. Tries to escape from the demon that had set his sights on you.

Him.

Fuck. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It really wasn’t. It was just supposed to be a fun halloween party! You didn’t really even know if you wanted to go to it or not. But your friends convinced you with the promise of free drinks and guys that were ‘cute enough’ for some random frat.

What they failed to mention? The simple fact that house was in the middle of nowhere. On one side a lake, the other a massive forest.

Like a pretty little trap meant to catch girls like you. Web tangled in the trees just watching for the prettiest butterfly to find its way into. To be caught in the den of monsters that lined every wall of the ancient house.

You were already disturbed when your friend's pretty jeep turned off the main roads, trailing through the woods. Realising just how distant from the rest of society you would be. How every bump of the car sent your little heart into a deeper flutter of anxiety.

Still, you kept your mouth shut. You didn’t want to ruin the night— for yourself or your friends. You trust them. They promised it would be fun. Plus! Their boyfriends were going to be there! So nothing would go wrong!

Yeah. It really wasn't their fault that a lunatic set his sights on you. Wasn’t their fault you started dancing with a man in a mask. Let him lead you to the backyard for a smoke, dumbly followed him deeper into the woods to see his favourite spot. Let him stuff his fingers into your little hole without even seeing his face, knowing his name.

Nah, you did all that on your own. Just a little kitten being led to the slaughter house.

“Okay babydoll…” He breathes into your ear, pumping two fingers deep inside of your cunt. Skirt that was barely covering anything pushed too far up your hips, showing the whole forest just how tight your walls cling to his fingers. How wet you are. How desperate you are for more.

“We’re gonna play a game, yeah?” You’re hardly able to respond, consciousness laced with toxins from earlier that night. Flush to your cheeks evidence enough of just how much you drank— the series of events that led you to this exact moment.

One he had been planning for awhile.

He smiles, throat letting out a low, almost nonexistent laugh. Slowly circling your clit with his thumb, almost mocking the way your back arches. Finding amusement in the way your fingers cling to his arm as his thrusts continue all to slow.

You’re needy, too needy. He knows that well enough. Can tell with the way your hips start to rock, start to squirm. The way your body starts to get bratty on him while your mind is too far in the clouds to realise the position you’ve found yourself in.

You’re cute. Too cute for him to take another second of this. Too cute for him to hold back anymore.

Wouldn’t want you getting too bratty on him anyway, would he? Then his personal treat, the slice of cake he's been waiting weeks to cut into will have to turn into a punishment. Ruin all the fun he’s worked so hard to prepare.

“‘Gonna need you to run into the woods. Fast and as far as you can…” He groans under his breath, the mere thought sending blood straight to his cock, filling his mind with nothing but pictures of you dirty on the forest floor, “And you gotta do your best to stay away from me yeah? Cause if I catch you… I gotta kill you and I wouldn't wanna have to do that… You’re too pretty to kill, you know?”

Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with him? What is he even talking about?

You try to process– try to understand the words that run off his tongue. But it's unfair, everything is stacked against you as he slides the mask off his face. Gives you a first look at his deep brown eyes. Lets you see how gorgeous he is for the very first time.

He didn’t even give you a chance to recover before he started counting down from 30. Doesn’t even move his hand away from your dripping cunt until 20– the expression on your face just pathetic. So close yet so far from the finish line.

Your race was nowhere close to its end. He’d make sure of it.

It wasn’t until his hand found your hip, gently tapping against the skin that your brain even had the chance to attempt processing his words. Figure out the exact meaning behind them while his lips continued to count down with each syllable.

Such pretty pink lips. Maybe he would let you kiss them if you tried hard enough. If you lean up just right maybe he would–

Wait. Wait. What’s happening? What did he say to you?

Your eyes glance down to your thighs, vision dazed as you try to figure out the object that suddenly pokes at your flesh. The sharp tip grazing your soft skin as you take in the metal; polished to perfection. The deep black handle resting securely in his palm, holding himself back.

Your eyes widen, familiarity cresting your features.

Shit. Shit!

You don’t even think about grabbing your own knife until 15, hand quickly reaching for your hip where you keep it tucked away. Too bad he had already taken it, knew the tool you always carried with you well.

Shit, his own personal little Nancy, huh? Perfect for him.

Survival instincts had to take over for you, forcing your feet to the ground. Urging your skirt down as low as it could possibly go as your legs take off in a direction you hope is the house.

Everything is all too much, it’s not enough. Every little sound is getting to you, making you feel like you’re going crazy. Making you feel like none of your senses can be trusted. Like nothing can be trusted except for the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The woods– everything looks the same. You can't distinguish one thing from the next but you know you hear something getting closer. Too close.

If his words meant anything you need to keep fighting, keep trying to live. Even as pain stabs into your toes, sticks break under your feet. Even as you’re stabbed by bushes.

It was like the forest itself was out to get you. Like whatever beast behind it is your real enemy in all of this.

Maybe you can pretend it, maybe in your alcohol-addled brain that’s a little easier to manage than the man running behind you. The one with hunger in his heart that only your soul can satiate.

You try, you really do. But your legs can only move so fast. Can only take so much abuse before they start to slow. Lungs can only inhale so much air before they want to collapse.

Too bad he’s done this before. He can run.

And just as you start to be able to see the lights from the tree line, just as hope starts to fill your little heart, you’re forced into the dirt. Two arms wrap around you from behind, tackling your frame to the ground.

Your back presses against his chest as he keeps you there, his face right next to your ear as he pants. Breathe heavy in your ear, hearing the way it cracks every once and awhile as he tries to catch his breath. Lips almost on your ear while he keeps you there. Keeps you trapped under him.

Everything is starting to conflict in your pretty little head, body telling you to get away. Try to get him off. Wriggle your hand— anything out to try and fight back. Try and get away before he keeps his promise from before.

Yet, with every movement, every slight twist of your spine or kick of your legs under his heavy frame he only presses tighter, deeper against you. Presses his cock against your barely covered cunt. Makes you feel every inch of him that he plans to stuff inside. Make you unable to breathe while the rocks dig into your skin.

You put up a good fight, you really do. Better than anyone else. It’s too bad everything is going just a little bit haywire behind your eyes. The world starting to feel like a burden as you try to push away the arousal rushing to your gut.

Shit, you should be scared. Should be petrified of the psycho that took you into the woods, the psycho that threatened to kill you no more than ten minutes before. One that had a knife pressed to your skin and a scythe around your heart. But the chemicals in your brain are mixing into something that you can’t comprehend, can’t describe.

Everything feels like too much, he feels like too much and you have no clue what to do. Head completely gone to mush.

It’s almost easier that way.

“Almost got away, doll. But don’t worry. I’ve got you now.” His voice is rough, harsh as he tries to catch his breath. Teeth clamping against the crest of your ear, hips rolling against your cunt without a care in the world. Especially not for the state of your head. Not for the little world you find yourself slipping away into.

Too many extreme emotions happening will do that to you, won't they? Make you so confused that you’ll just take whatever you can manage. Even if that means plunging his blade into your pretty little heart or fucking you until your pussy wouldn’t even consider another filling it.

He prefers the latter. Too pretty for the former, huh?

He can feel the shift in your frame– one of extreme discomfort, entirely tense to one of a docile little pet put on display. The shift behind your eyes as everything becomes too much, little too difficult to understand. As you slip away just enough to make any feelings of pleasure elevate to new extremes. Let fear spur you on.

The only thoughts in your head are ones filled with him. The way it should be. Exactly should be.

Your hips move again, their last attempt to break free from his spell. Their last attempt to try and get away from the maniac. Yet it does nothing more than press his cock harder against your ass, the mock of a grind against the surface that leaves a pretty little mewl spilling from your lips. A grunt catching in his own.

Wow, you actually surprised him.

“Shit, not patient at all huh?” He smiles, lip quirking as he removes his body from you. Removes the only warmth provided in this hell.

You won't run. Not if you know what's good for you.

He doubts you do– led you right into his arms tonight. But that's okay. He can take over for you. Take over everything.

Hands grip your hips, pull you back against him. Let you imagine how sweet he could fuck you if you just behave. The soft rocking of hips against your own, the gentle way he moves compared to the way he holds you heavy on your mind.

You can’t help the moan that spills past your lips. The way your back arches to meet him better. No one could blame poor little you. No one could blame your mind turning off for just a little bit. Not when he has you. Not with the rough texture of his pants pushing against your cunt. Not with the ruined orgasm of before.

Arousal makes your panties stick uncomfortable to your skin. A disturbing wet patch forming against his own pants where you meet. A flutter erupting in your gut at the way he groans. Way he moves you with such ease.

He really could kill you if he wanted to.

You’re not sure if the realisation scares you or spurs you on.

It scares you more to know that it's the latter.

“I’m not either.” He huffs, air thick with fog, “Been too patient for you. Too fucking patient.”

He grunts, pushing your hips back. Back arching even farther against the forest floor. It almost hurts, it’s almost painful. Not that that really matters. Nothing matters when he grips the flesh of your ass, pulls the cheeks apart. Gets a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Can see clearly how wrecked his little girl is.

Pretty panties sticking against your cunt, thighs wobbly from all the effort of tonight. Shit, if he just hooks his finger under them, pulls them to the side he’ll get to see you all. Get to see your puffy lips, fluttering little hole. Get to fuck himself inside while you just lie there and take it. Get so drunk on his cock you might just fall in love.

Shit, maybe you already have, huh?

Good.

He forces your underwear to the side, stares in awe at the way your slick sticks to them. Imagines how pretty they’d look stuffed with his cum. How you’d tumble around the house, not letting a drop spill just for him.

Because you would know it’s what he wants.

“All of this for me?” He smiles, rubbing his thumb through your folds. Collecting your essence, spreading it around all messy just how he likes. How he knows you’ll like soon enough.

You can only whimper, clutch the ground as your head spins. Tries to catch up with every little minstration he makes. Tries to figure out what exactly is happening. What words he’s saying. How to get him to stop, if you want him to stop.

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t think you do.

You’re not sure of anything anymore. Only the sound of a zipper running down, the shuffle of pants forced off hips. The hard head of a cock running against your folds like it owns them. Like it was made for them.

The stretch as he forces himself inside. The way it burns, stings with effort. The short, forceful movements as he fucks himself inside. Makes home in your cunt for no one else but him. Makes you unable to think of a soul other than him. Ruin you for all other men that come after.

God he must be big– how fucking big? You have no clue. You wish you could see. Look into those pretty, crazed eyes. Focus on the little mole under his lip as the pain turns into pleasure. Morphs something dark in your brain to like it, to take it just like a good girl. Make you crave him more than anything else.

But instead you stare at the dirt. Hands clutching at the surface as he fucks himself inside. Deeper and deeper with each slow calculating thrust. Fucks you full of whatever twisted definition of love he possess. Makes you see the light, the exact shimmer in his eyes. See that this is the only way to truly live.

“Shit, baby,” His voice is low, deeper than before as his hips finally meet your own. Finally fills you with nothing else other than him. “Been waiting too fucking long for this. Had to make me wait, huh? Fuck.”

His voice harsh, grip bruising as he tries to hold himself back. One last measly reprise he’ll allow you. One last second he’ll give you before he makes you completely dumb. Makes you see what he knows you need to.

“I-I don’t~” You whimper, though the words fall on deaf ears. Not that it mattered anyway, you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. Didn’t know anything except for the way your walls clamp around his cock. Body begging for him, urging him to start and never stop.

He sighs, dramatic, “Little slut, huh baby?”

A harsh thrust punctuates his words, jolting your body forward as you cry. Impatience, ecstasy? He isn’t sure which. Only can notice the way your fingers clench and unclench in the dirt. The way your pussy flutters around him.

“Aww…” He soothes, hips dragging out of your cunt before slowly thrusting back in. The pace slow, antagonising, “Poor thing is having a hard time…” His hips quicken a hair, pretty sounds falling from your lips at the movement.

“Gotta tell me what you need, baby. I can make it all happen then.” A low kiss is placed against your shoulder, the world crumbling around you.

You break.

“Please…” Your voice is soft, too soft, but he hears it. Feels himself cracking as you beg, feels himself lose his mind entirely.

Beg for him. Want him.

His hips suddenly snap, fucking himself into your cunt with force you never thought a human could possibly manage. Fast, hard. Pumping his cock into you to search for his own pleasure. His own release. Forcing you to take it, take all of him while you try to keep up. Try to find your own pleasure in the tangle of limbs.

You hate how easily you do. Or maybe you love it.

“God, fuck.” He can’t suppress his own moans, the feeling of your pussy wrapping so tight around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth is too much. Fills his head with even more nonsense about love. About destiny.

His hips would never even consider stopping. You feel too good. Feel too tight around his cock, feel like he should never stop fucking you. Keep you there forever.

“So perfect. So perfect for me,” His breath is harsh, his heart racing as your little sounds only spur him on. Let him know just how good you feel. Just how far you’ve fallen. Just how much farther you’re willing to drown in all things Jungkook.

“P-Please!” You whine, hips arching further. Moving him into the perfect position to scrape against your g-spot with every rough pound of his hips. No clue what you’re pleading for. No clue what you want other than him.

Don’t even know his name. Nothing other than how incessantly you crave him.

“Fucking brat.” He cusses, eyes pinching into a glare as you somehow clamp down tighter. Walls pulling him back in on every thrust. Milking him for everything he’s worth. Making sure you both know your place in this. Know your place after it, too.

“God, been waiting for this haven’t you?” He groans, hips stuttering. He’s too close, “Been waiting for me to fuck you like the pretty doll you are? Make me take everything from you?”

You can only manage a whine in response, cunt fluttering around him. Obsessing in his praise.

Maybe his words are true. Maybe he’s known the exact type of person you are since the moment he first saw you. Maybe he’s right. This is where you’re meant to be. Meant to be with him.

“Shit, yeah. I fucking knew it.” His voice cracks, “Call you a minx but we both know that isn’t true. Just don’t know how to think until you’re stuck on the end of a cock.”

His thrusts somehow pick up speed. Fuck you harder, deeper. He’s sure he could place his hand over your tummy, feel himself fucking you. Shit.

“My cock.” He growls, voice heavy in your ears.

You can't take it anymore. Can’t take another second of it. Nerves tied tight into knots explode, white dotting the corner of your vision as you moan for no one else other than him. Pleasure courses through your veins, pussy pulling him as he falls apart alongside you. A tsunami pulling you under, making it hard to breathe. Making you feel dead and alive at the same time.

Maybe the forest gods were the ones tormenting you. Making you feel better than you had ever thought possible before. Allowing you to see the light of the stars dancing in the sky, so far above the clouds with his cock still pressed so deep inside. Floating through the air as your orgasm runs through you.

He’s no better. A shell of a man as he slowly fucks him cum deeper into your cunt. As deep as you’ll allow. Marking you. Claiming you. Making sure you know your place, even as you finally collapse onto the floor. Finally come back to reality. Poor body too spent to focus on anything else.

It’s okay though, you don’t have to worry. Not about a thing.

He’ll take care of you. Fix you up nice and pretty for your next lesson. Take you away to his apartment, make you fall in love for real. Keep you there, with him, just like you’re meant to be.

Make all of the sick sides you try to hide come out to play. Make you realise you’re just like him.

He wouldn’t kill you. Ever. Even if he had killed the others, none of them matter. He’s been waiting for someone like you for so long. Itching to bring you home. And finally, finally you had fallen into his trap. His perfect little butterfly, caught in the web. Ready to be corrupted by the vicious spider. Ready for your wings to be clipped.

“Mine.”

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts reactions #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #bangtan #bangtan x reader #bangtan smut

[nicksolemnlyswears]

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

summary: in which carmy falls for the sweet café owner that supplies him with endless americanos

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

warning: it's a little bit of a slow burn. sorry. i'm a sucker for it and i feel like carmy is a slow burn kinda guy. 18 +, cursing, smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), fingering, they use protection guys! i deserve a pat in the back. nothing too wild. oh, and very brief mention of suicide.

a/n: i started writing this way back in october and then it was nearly done and i abandoned it. well i finally got around to completing it tonight!

this is my first time ever writing for carmy and i tried my best writing this. i love carmy and the show but i didn’t expect it to be hard to write him as a character. i wanted to get him right so i took my time with it and didn’t rush it. hopefully you guys like my carmy. enjoy!

i think i've had this stored in my drafts for like 4 months and it's time for me to set it free.

The cigarettes were not enough anymore. No matter how many smoke breaks Carmy took, he still felt the edge on his shoulders. A fear laced with anxiety that overtook him.

After deciding that blowing through yet another wall in his restaurant was the way to go, Carmy took a break. He needed it before he used the sledgehammer to destroy the restaurant in its entirety, along with his dream.

He remembers a coffee shop only a block away from The Bear and thinks he could use a coffee right about now. Maybe the mixture of caffeine and nicotine will be able to relax his shoulders, if only for an hour.

As soon as he opens the door, the smell of ground coffee beans greets him. He looks around, taking in the cozy ambiance the decorative wood brings to the place and the splashes of warm yellow that lighten it up.

Then he sees you, and his focus shifts entirely. His eyes only see you.

"Hi, welcome to Bee Hive!" You chirp with a small smile.

Carmy freezes, forgetting why he's there in the first place. He slowly steps up to the register, where you patiently wait for him. It's just after the lunch rush, so you're in no hurry.

He finds he's acting like a teenager who has just seen a pretty girl. Only he's not a teenager, and you're more than a pretty girl.

"What can I get for you today?" You ask, not noticing the effect you've had on him. You take a sharpie out of your yellow apron, preparing to scribble down his order in a cup.

Carmy has perfected the empty on the outside but screaming on the inside face. Strangers don't tend to know he's almost always losing his shit.

"I-I don't…sorry," Carmy looks at you briefly before diverting his eyes. He apologizes in a flurry, looking for an excuse for his weird behavior, "Uh, it's my first time here. What do you recommend?"

"It's not a problem," you say softly as if to calm him, "I'm a simple girl. I love the latte, but if you're looking for something stronger, the americano is one of the favorites."

Carmy nods as you ramble about the drinks, where the coffee beans come from, and the different notes of each blend. He hangs onto every word that slips from your lips. The static in his brain clearing up for the first time in hours.

It ends too soon as you realize you're talking too much and probably overwhelmed him. You sheepishly smile at him and trail off, but he continues to stare, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll take the Americano," Carmy nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. Although he had been hanging to every one of your words, he was too focused on the shape of your lips and the sweet tone of your voice.

"Good choice," you nod, grabbing a cup from the tray beside you, "What's your name?"

Carmy looks up, slightly alarmed, as if you've asked for his social security number. "What?" He thinks you'll be forward and ask for his number next, seemingly forgetting how coffee orders work.

"Your name? For the order?" You explain, trying to ease his worries. He's odd, but in an endearing way. You believe this is his first time here because you're confident you would've remembered him.

"Fuck, right, yeah," he nervously says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "My name's Carmen."

"Your Americano will be right out, Carmen," you tell him, capping your sharpie back up.

Carmy quickly pays and stands to the side to wait for his order. He forces himself to not look at you or in your direction as you take other customers' orders. He just knows he's made a fool of himself already. Not that it matters. Why would it matter? He's there for the coffee. Nothing else, no one else.

As he walks out of Bee Hive, he sips his coffee. His shoulders instantly drop, and his fear-induced anxiety starts to dissipate for the moment. He's unsure if the effect is because of the caffeine or the thoughts of your pretty smile.

Visiting your coffee shop becomes routine for Carmy. Whenever things at The Bear become crazy -or he starts to lose his fuckin' mind- he makes his way to Bee Hive with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

For twenty minutes, he's free of Richie's constant hounding, Sugar's struggles with the permits and scheduling, and Sydney's disappointment because the menu is still extremely underway.

Each time he's stopped by, you've been there to greet him, and each time, you've left a little heart by Carmen's name, which makes his heart race in a peculiar way. His hands would touch his chest to check if it was heartburn, but it didn't feel like that. It's not anxiety either cause he knows pretty well how that feels.

All he knows is he hasn't done anything to deserve such a gesture. He's convinced himself you draw little hearts for everyone because he's not special.

One Thursday afternoon, Carmy realizes he doesn't know your name. He looks for a name tag, but you're not wearing one on your yellow apron. He should know your name if you insist on making small talk despite his short answers.

He can't help it. He gets too in his head to answer like a normal person, so his answers come out choppy and dry.

"Alright, Carmen, your order will be right out," you say, handing his cup to one of the baristas. You always hold out and ask him what he wants to order. He has the right to change his mind anytime, but for now, he's stuck with the americano, which he drowns in sugar.

As curiosity eats at him, he gathers the courage to ask. "Thanks. Hey, uh, I've-I’ve never gotten your name…” Carmy says, cursing at himself for not formulating the question correctly. His hand comes up to grip his hair instinctually.

Your smile widens when he asks your name. The silly crush you've developed for your customer fluttering to life. It's just a crush over a stranger, nothing to write home about.

You tell him your name but follow it with "-call me Honey. Everyone knows me by that name. I'm sure if you ask my friends about me with my real name, you'll throw them for a loop."

You're rambling, hoping he doesn't think calling you by your nickname is weird. Then again, how can he judge when he has a sister people call 'Sugar' and he and his siblings also don the nickname 'Bear.'

"Honey." Carmy repeats your nickname, smiling as he finds it fitting. "In that case, call me Carmy."

"Nice to properly meet you, Carmy," you say, grinning.

Like all the days before, Carmy steps aside and waits for his coffee. He doesn't let himself continue the conversation or ask more about you even if it’s everything he wants to do.

It's rare for Carmy to be in a good mood, and whenever it happens, it doesn't tend to last. His goal of opening a restaurant in 12 weeks makes it impossible for him to relax and enjoy the ride. To prolong this unusual feeling, Carmy stops by Bee Hive on his way to The Bear.

"Have you made your boss angry, Honey?" He asks as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He ordered the americano as he always does.

"No…why do you ask?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"Uh, 'cause you-you're always here. Do you not take days off? Not that I'm complaining. I-I like seeing you here." Carmy's words get quieter as he speaks, red creeping up his neck. So much for trying to make a joke.

You look around the room and tell him, "Imma let you in on a little secret."

Carmy follows your hand, waving him to get closer. The smell of cigarettes invades your senses as you get close to him. You'd never admit that the mix of his cigarettes and your coffee is addicting. As both lean over the counter, you whisper, "I'm the boss. I can't run away even if I wanted to."

"You own the coffee shop," Carmy pans in shock.

Carmy is more than surprised at your words. Especially now that he knows how expensive it is to open a business. You can't be a day over 25 and own a successful coffee place. There is hope, after all.

"I do," you nod, standing straight once more.

A couple of years ago, you had inherited a hefty amount of money from an estranged aunt. Fresh out of college and with no real plan, you thought it would be a good moment to follow your dream and open the cozy café.

"How do you do it?" Carmy asks, amazed at the girl smiling at him. "I don't know if you know, but, um, I-I'm opening the restaurant around the block. Used to be The Beef?" He finishes grimly as he points to his side of the block.

"Oh, yeah. The guys who worked there helped me move some equipment when I first opened two years ago," you reveal, "Tell you what, whenever you have a break, come around. I'll give you a free americano and tell you all about it. Neighbor to neighbor."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Carmy agrees. "I'll take you up on that."

Weeks go by, and Carmy seemingly forgets about Bee Hive and your pending conversation. You try not to overthink about his absence or how you might've scared him away. He's probably just busy remodeling his restaurant. You know better than anyone how much time that takes.

Still, his presence has become part of your routine, and you can't help but look at the door each time the bell rings. You expect to see him walking up to the counter, the remnants of cigarette smoke coming out his nose as he breathes.

You're pretty close to your assumption because Carmy has been dealing with the fire suppression test. They didn't fail the test once but twice, and if they didn't pass it on the third try, their plan to open the restaurant in 12 weeks goes out the window. Fak has tried everything, and nothing works.

He'd sent Richie once on a coffee run, but the fuckin' idiot went to the nearest Starbucks. Carmy had been looking forward to tasting your coffee and seeing his name in the cup with the little heart because he's 100% sure he's the only Carmen you know. It's not a common name in these parts of town.

One very early morning, he's walking to work, and as he passes Bee Hive, he sees you inside, wiping tables down before you open at 6:30.

Impulsively, he knocks on the glass, not giving himself the time to overthink things. You turn to look at the window and see him standing outside, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his familiar plaid jacket to protect himself from the chilly March air.

"Hey stranger," you greet him, opening the door and inviting him in.

"Hi," he breathes out, staring at you, "you're here early," he tries to casually mention.

You roll your eyes dramatically and say, "It's a downside of the job. Did you know people want coffee at the crack of dawn?"

You try acting as nonchalant as possible. It's not like you missed seeing one of your favorite customers, his beautiful blue eyes, or the way he rocks a simple white t-shirt.

"I had no idea," Carmy smiles, bringing his tattooed hand up to his lips, "I, uh, usually drink mine at night." That much is true. On those sleepless nights when insomnia takes over him, the best remedy is coffee.

"Would you make an exception and join me for a morning coffee at the crack ass of dawn?" Anxiously, you play with the rings on your fingers. It feels like you're asking the guy on a date when it's just a friendly coffee.

"As long as you have some business advice to spare?" Carmy responds shakily. He briefly looks down the street to glimpse at his restaurant. It's too early for anyone to be there yet.

"Deal."

Throwing the towel over your shoulder, you make your way behind the counter. Carmy attempts to make small talk with you as you prepare both drinks.

This is the first time he's watching you in action since you tend to stick to the cash register when he's around. It's not a coincidence. After the first time he came to Bee Hive, you wanted to see more of him, so you stationed yourself at the register where you'd be sure to see him, and he'd see you.

"Here you go." You place his coffee mug on the table along with yours before disappearing momentarily and returning with an orange soufflé coffee cake. You're pulling all the stops for Carmy to leave a good impression.

Carmy thanks you and sips his coffee, "Wow, this is fire!" He expected to taste an americano, but what you prepared was entirely different. He can make out hints of hazelnut and caramel in the coffee.

"Thanks. I took the liberty of changing your order. You can always come back to the americano, though…" you shrug shyly, looking at him over the rim of your mug.

"I-I appreciate it. Thanks." Carmy throws you a nervous grin. He gestures with his tattooed hand to dig into the cake you brought out. He shouldn't be the only one eating.

You and Carmy share the cake as you talk about yourselves and the crazy businesses you own. Somehow, talking to you comes easy to him. He's still nervous and scared to fuck things up, but the warm coffee and your even warmer smile ease him into it.

"How do you do it? This place is always packed, and you seem like you run a tight ship," Carmy wonders, playing with the fork. The cake is long gone, although the notes of orange remain on his tongue. Would you taste the same?

"It wasn't without mistakes. I had to learn a lot from my fuck ups and listen to my team because although I'm the owner, they are the ones doing most of the work. Whenever there's a flaw, they are the first to know," you speak softly, afraid of ruining the calm ambiance you've set up, twirling the small amount of coffee left in your mug.

It's your favorite part of morning coffee. When you have just the smallest bit of coffee left, and you know you'll never drink it because it's cold, but it gives you an excuse to remain where you are.

"So, all I gotta do is listen?" It's funny you say that because Carmy listens, but his friend's voices get muddled somewhere along the way. As much as he tries to focus on them, they merge together and form a cacophony in his head.

"A lot of listening and a lot of experimentation. I've been open for two years, and it's only been in the last six months that I can confidently tell you we found our groove," you admit with a grimace.

Bee Hive is your baby, but bringing it to life was everything but easy. You messed up so many times, costing you so much money. You didn't know shit about owning a business or building one from the ground up. Doing research and putting your pride aside to ask for help got you through it.

"I've only been doing this for, like, less than a fuckin' year, and I already want to pull my hair out," Carmy admits with a pitiful laugh.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you it gets better soon," you say apologetically, reaching for his hand that rests on the table.

Carmy freezes, glancing at your hand on top of his. He hasn't got a clue what to fucking do with the display of affection. Was it a display of affection? He doesn't fucking know. "It's, uh, it's, uh, it's alright. As-as long as you give me coffee, I think I can make it through," Carmen furrows his eyebrows as he stutters through the sentence.

"I can't wait to see what the award-winning chef does," you say, bringing your hand back to your lap, none the wiser to Carmy's internal struggle.

He should've done something to keep your hand on his. Place his other hand on yours or fucking turn his hand around to grasp it. He liked feeling your warm skin on his. It hasn't been a minute since you pulled away, and he's craving it already. It's ridiculous. Is he really that touch-starved that he's seeking affection from a near stranger?

He coughs and darts his eyes between the wooden table top and you, "Fuck. You-you know about that?"

"I might've done some research after finding out you're opening the restaurant. I got curious. I'm sorry." Apologizing is your default thing to do. Messing things up is your area of expertise. You really didn't think he'd mind you mentioning it.

"No, no, no, uh, you don't have to apologize. You just caught me off guard," Carmy shakes his head, reassuring both of you.

"Okay, good," you lightly smile at him, averting your eyes when your gazes meet.

If there's a time for you to make a move, it's now. Taking a shaky breath, you speak up, "I was wondering if you'd ever like to-."

A loud knock on the glass door interrupts you. You and Carmy jump and look towards the source of the noise. It's one of your regular clients, waving at you to open up. Looking at your watch, you see it's 6:30 already.

"Shit. I'm-I'm sorry I took so much of your time," Carmy apologizes, picking up his mug and the plate to put away.

You grab his wrist to make him stop in his tracks, "Relax. I enjoyed talking to you. Maybe we can do it again soon?"

Carmy nods wide-eyed. He likes the idea just as much as you do. You take away the mug and plate with a soft 'okay.' He then follows you to the door as you unlock it and turn the sign to 'open.'

"I, um, gotta go work on the menu. I'll probably be back later for another coffee?" Carmen asks you as if he's asking for permission, which you find adorable.

"I'll be behind the register," you say, watching him walk away. He turns his head back for a moment, and you catch the smile gracing his lips as yours turns to mimic him.

"Oh, he's cute," your customer, an older lady, says, watching him go along with you. "It's about time you got a boyfriend."

"Mrs. O'Hara, here for your tea?" You ask her, ignoring the comment about your love life. That woman will set you up with anyone. She does love her tea, though, and expects you to provide it on time.

It's slow, but Carmen warms up to you. Instead of grabbing his coffee to go, he now drinks it at the café, coincidentally around the same time you take your break.

He's been hesitantly opening up. It's not like he's telling you about how fucked up his family is or how his brother committed suicide. More often, it's about the restaurant and his work as a chef, the struggles of getting every permit they need on a tight schedule since they are supposed to open in about four weeks now, or the occasional childhood memory. It's everything you need to know at this stage.

You love listening to Carmy talk, even if you have to coax it out of him sometimes. He's passionate about the restaurant despite all the stress that comes from it, and he adores the people he works with. He's shy but not in a dorky way because he's actually fascinating. Before meeting him, you never knew that collecting denim was a thing.

The smell of cigarettes that clings to him is also tightly laced with his character. When you step outside to get some sun and the scent of someone smoking hits you, your heart instantly speeds up, hoping it's him coming for his daily americano, or to come swoop you away into a sunset.

"-I fell on my ass in the middle of the street. I was freaking out, thinking I was gonna get run over by a car," you exclaim as you tell Carmy about the crazy Christmas you spent in New York last year.

"It's New York. You probably would have been run over," Carmy chuckles along with you. "There was this one time I was running late and-" His phone vibrating interrupts him.

"Sorry, it's just the fridge guy," he tells you with a furrow of his eyebrows. You notice he does that a lot when he's thinking deeply. Carmy silences it and looks back over to you.

"You should pick that up. A busted fridge is the last thing you need. Trust me. Been there, done that." You encourage him to take the call. The restaurant is more important than your story about how you bruised your coccyx in New York.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Carm! Call him back before you forget," you insist, grabbing his empty cup to trash it. You don't give him any other option, leaving him there to help your employees with a faulty machine.

He watches you closely, closer than ever before. He allows himself to watch how you frown at the machine and how your ringed fingers fumble with the knobs. His eyes keep trailing down involuntarily, and they take in how nicely your jeans hug your ass.

He goes into a spiral into these old pair of Levi jeans popular in the 90s and how they would fit nicely with the shape of your hips and legs. Carmy continues on the tangent, imagining himself peeling them off your body.

The phone vibrating in his hand snaps him out of it. Clearing his throat, he picks up the phone and walks outside. He waves at you through the window as he makes his way back to The Bear. Your frustration at the machine vanishes momentarily as you wave back, except the machine splatters, forcing you to redirect your attention. When you look outside again, he's gone.

Stakes are high at The Bear. There's less than four weeks until Friends and Family, and there is much to do. Marcus has returned from Copenhagen and is working on the desserts. Tina is doing her job as the new sous chef. Fak and Sweeps are helping out wherever they can. And Richie is being Richie, trying to be open but resisting change.

"I need coffee or a pop. Anything with caffeine," Sydney says, throwing her head back. She and Carmen have been working on the chaos menu for hours, and she keeps messing up. Carmy insists that it's okay that they'll adjust and get it right soon, but she's beginning to lose hope.

"Me too. I'd kill for an espresso," Natalie agrees, softly rubbing her hand over her growing bump.

"I thought you couldn't have caffeine cause of the baby," Richie mentions, remembering Tiff's time while pregnant.

"I don't need you to fuckin' tell me what I can or can't eat, Richie," Natalie yells, glaring at him. Although he's right, the doctor told her to limit her caffeine intake. Hard to do when she's up all night thinking about everything she needs to do for The Bear.

"Shit. I'm sorry for fucking caring," Richie screams back, lifting his hands up in defense.

"I can go to the coffee place down the block. Get everyone something," Carmy pipes up, looking forward to seeing you today.

Natalie is quick to shoot that idea down, "You can't. The fridge guy is coming in 20 minutes."

"Fuck, that's right," Carmy groans, digging his head in his hands. His fingers rake through his hair, messing up his curls. He wanted to see you and talk to you, even if it was for five short minutes.

"I'll go," Sydney sighs. She needs to leave the kitchen for more than five minutes, or she'll go crazy, "Just tell me what you guys want to order."

Natalie grumbles about getting decaf, Richie orders a plain black coffee, and Carmy asks for his americano. As Sydney leaves to ask Marcus, Carmy yells after her, "Please, go to Bee Hive. If you get Starbucks, I'm gonna fucking lose it."

Richie and Natalie exchange a look. Richie because he's confused, and Natalie because she knows something is happening with Carmy. He's never been picky over coffee. In fact, they have an old coffee machine in the office that now goes unused because he's always at that coffee shop.

"Sorry, I didn't get the fuckin' memo. Since when is Starbucks bad?" Richie frowns, looking to get a rise out of Carmy.

"I don't think it's about the coffee, cousin," Natalie responds, directing her gaze towards her brother, who is hunched over the counters, chopping vegetables.

"If it's not about the coffee, what is it about?" Richie questions, crossing his arms.

"Shut the fuck up, Sugar," Carmy grumbles, looking at his sister with a glare. He already knows where she's going. She tried to bring it up a couple of days ago after she walked by the coffee shop and saw him being friendly with you.

Natalie smiles and responds, "Carmy has a crush on the barista."

"That's ridiculous. I don't have a crush on her." Carmy shakes his head, avoiding Richie and Natalie's eyes on him. They always do this. They gang up on him if he shows even the slightest interest in a girl. They think they can help, but all they do is embarrass him.

"Come on, Bear. Why else would you go almost every day to get coffee?" Natalie asks, giving him a look.

"Because it's good fuckin' coffee. Jesus, it's not that deep." Carmy grabs the veggies he chopped and drops them into a container to use later.

"It's okay to admit you like a pretty girl, cousin! I'm excited for you! Makes you human and not a lonely hermit," Richie jokes, pushing on Carmy's buttons. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"I swear to God, Richie. Shut the fuck up," Carmy points at him angrily.

"No, I should go with Sydney and see who this girl is!" Richie says, walking out of the half-built kitchen.

Carmy follows him instantly, "You're not going fuckin' anywhere, fuckin' jagoff." He's turning red from anger, seeing Richie with his mocking smile. Natalie follows behind them, amused at the situation. It reminds her of the banters they used to get in with Mickey.

"Admit that you like her," Richie shrugs, giving him a choice.

"No, I won't," Carmy refuses. "You always do this shit."

"Then, I'm going," Richie nods, stepping towards the door.

"Fuck! Shit, alright. I like her, okay? Don't fucking go anywhere," Carmy yells, rubbing a hand on his face out of frustration. It's like he's not allowed to keep anything good to himself.

"Was that so hard?" Richie grins, clapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," Carmy grumbles, walking back to the kitchen. Natalie follows him with a smile, shaking her head at Richie.

Carmy sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He has yet to admit that he likes you more than he should. He's been avoiding it, afraid of what it might lead to, or rather, what it might not.

He couldn't let Richie go see you. He has a big fuckin' mouth and will tell you Carmy has a crush on you whether it's true or not. Just like that, he feels the sour taste in his mouth, his heartburn making an appearance. Carmy should go look for his pepto before it gets worse.

Unaware of the argument back at The Bear, Sydney walks to Bee Hive. She's walked past many times but has yet to have the time to stop and try it out.

As she waits in line, she reads over the drinks menu. It's clear that it's been carefully curated. Starbucks has nothing on this menu. She can see why Carmy would prefer to come here instead.

When it's her turn to order, Sydney takes out her phone to recite everyone's drink order. She also points to a few pastries, thinking Marcus would like to try some of them and get inspiration. That and she knows Natalie will enjoy them as well.

You're sitting at a table close to the pickup counter. You often find yourself all over the store, ensuring everything goes smoothly. Sometimes, you stop to talk to your regulars and see how they're doing.

You notice Sydney struggling with all the cups she has to carry. It's proving difficult despite the to-go trays your barista put them in. Deciding to approach her, you ask, "Do you need help?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks," Sydney responds with a nervous smile. She's trying hard to grab everything, including the box with the pastries.

You continue watching her struggle because you know she needs help. You let her try and figure it out for one more minute before stepping in again when she almost drops two of the drinks, "Need some help now?"

"Yeah," Sydney sighs, "I guess I can leave one of the trays here, go to the restaurant, and come back for the rest," she speaks mostly to herself.

"Are you going far?"

"No, just the restaurant down the block," Sydney responds with a sigh, scratching her eyebrow as she tries to figure out the logistics of carrying the drinks. She could get a box to put everything in.

You perk up at her response. The only restaurant down the block is Carmen's. Could she work there? "Carmy's restaurant?"

"You know Carmy?" Sydney asks, tilting her head. Maybe Nat was right. Carmy spends his time here because of the woman in front of her.

"He comes here often. Anyway, I can go with you to help you out. It's not far, and I'd feel bad if your drinks got cold." You offer to help her out because you're a nice person. Not because you want a chance to see the curly-haired man you are developing feelings for.

"You really don't have to…"

"It's really not a problem," you press, grabbing one of the to-go trays and motioning for her to lead the way.

Sydney sighs in defeat and nods, "Thanks. I'm Sydney, by the way."

"I'm Honey," you smile, following her outside.

You chat all the way to the restaurant with Sydney. She reminds you of Carmy in some ways, so you can see why they are friends. Before arriving at the restaurant, Sydney apologizes in advance for any sort of mess there might be, including yelling.

As you near the building under renovation, your palms start to sweat. Maybe you shouldn't have come. You're showing up unannounced, and he's probably too busy to talk to you anyway. You can slip in and out without him noticing. That's the goal now.

You open the door for Sydney, letting her go through first, and quietly follow her into the restaurant. There's no time to escape, as all eyes are instantly on you.

Richie is arguing with Fak when he sees you walk in. He narrows his eyes as Carmy looks in your direction from the kitchen. With just one glance to Carmy's face, he knows who you're supposed to be.

"Guess I didn't have to go anywhere. She came to me," Richie whispers, rushing out the door.

"Shut the fuck up. Where are you going? Don't embarrass me!" Carmy whispers out to Richie unsuccessfully.

"Oh, you'll do that all by yourself," Richie throws over his shoulder.

"Honey, hey, what-what're you doing here?" Carmy speaks, not giving Richie a chance to open his big mouth. He stands between you and Richie, blocking him for the time being.

"Sydney needed help with the drinks," you answer nervously, averting your eyes.

"Oh, thanks for that. You didn't have to," Carmy approaches you and takes the drinks from your hands. His fingers brush with yours momentarily, causing you both to blush.

"I did, or else you probably wouldn't have anything to drink," you whisper to him.

Sydney, Fak, and Richie all watch the interaction amusedly. Richie has a big teasing grin on his face as he makes a plan in his head.

"Hi, I'm Richie! Carmy's cousin," he introduces himself, shoving Carmy to the side and shaking your hand enthusiastically. "I gotta say Carmen right here is obsessed with your coffee. He's banned us from getting Starbucks."

Carmy curses under his breath as Richie does precisely what he tells him not to. He has the urge to throw the coffee at him and run away.

"Is that right?" You ask, amused, looking over at Carmy with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Richie answers for him as Carmy tries to find the right words to say. "Cousin, why don't you give the nice lady a tour of the place?"

"It's not done yet. Could be dangerous," Carmy hopelessly says with a gulp.

"Nonsense! You'll take care of her!" Richie insists. He takes the coffee from Carmy's hands and pushes him in your direction. "Go give her a tour."

Richie, Sydney, and Fak all disappear to the office to stay out of the way and try to snoop simultaneously. Fak sends Carmy a not-so-discreet thumbs-up that makes you giggle.

He's internally screaming at his so-called friends but is glad to see you. It was all he wanted before Sydney left to get their drinks. It's strange having you here at The Bear, though. He's so used to seeing you in your own space back at Bee Hive.

Trying to make things better, you say, "Sorry you've been roped into this. You probably have better things to do. I can go-"

Carmy doesn't let you finish. "No, stay. I want to show you around."

"Let's see what you got then, Berzatto," you grin, following him to the kitchen.

Carmy takes his time showing you The Bear. He wants you to stay. He wants to spend time with you but doesn't really know how to say it. So he takes it slow, answers your questions about the restaurant, shows you the front and how everything will be laid out, and introduces you to the ones around, including the fridge guy working on the handle.

Sadly, you get a call from Bee Hive asking you to come back. Carmy walks you outside, dreading having to say goodbye.

"I'm really excited for The Bear to open. You have a great place and team," you tell Carmy.

"I really got lucky with them, huh?" He asks, playing with a dish towel.

"I gotta go. I'll see you later, Berzatto." You don't know where you got the guts to lean towards him and kiss his cheek.

Carmy stays still as his face heats up. You start walking away and throw him a smile over your shoulder. When you're a distance away, he touches the cheek you kissed. Back inside, Richie runs over to Sugar to tell her what he just witnessed.

It's late when Carmy leaves The Bear. As he walks to the train station, he has his hands stuffed in his jacket pocket. On his way, he sees a lone light turned on in your café. Crossing the street to check it out, he sees you're still there with glasses perched on your nose in front of the computer.

He tries the door, and to his luck, it's open. You look in his direction, startled, but relax once you see it's him.

"Nice glasses," Carmy teases, pulling out a chair to sit.

"Are you making fun of me?" You purse your lips, propping your chin on your palm.

"No, I…I think you look cute with them," Carmy admits. After a stern talk from Sugar and Richie, he's realized he should probably make a proper move on you because if what they say is true, you also have a crush on him.

"Thanks," you blush, the light from your screen making it obvious to Carmy, who can't stop the corners of his lips from turning up into a smile.

"Late night?"

"One of my baristas is moving out of state. I have to find someone new, preferably who has experience," you say with a sigh. Glancing at him, you add, "Are you perhaps interested in the position?"

"Poaching me from my own restaurant, nice. I'll let you know I'm an excellent worker," Carmy jokes, tapping his fingers on the table.

There's no doubt in your mind he's an excellent worker. He has to be if he's considered one of the best up-and-coming chefs. Or to work in one of the best restaurants in the world with three Michelin stars.

"I don't know. I'll need references," you speak as if not believing him.

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you that Carmy is quick to fill, "So, uh, have you had dinner yet by chance?" This is it.

You shake your head no and look at him with hopeful eyes.

"Wanna go grab pizza? I know a place," he asks, finding your gaze on him.

"Say no more," you say, closing your laptop and taking off your glasses. "I'm starving."

Carmy waits for you to lock Bee Hive and grab your things. Then, you both walk to the pizza place. To pass the time, you and Carmy talk about your days and anything that comes to mind. Nothing serious as you get to know each other.

Waiting in line to order the pizza, you tell him all about your nickname and how you were donned 'Honey' to everyone who knows you. In return, he tells you about his nickname 'Bear' and why his restaurant is named as such. For the first time, he dares mention Mickey.

"Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy says, taking a slice of the pie and placing it on your plate.

"I'll see about that," you murmur. You wait until he has a slice of his own and dig in simultaneously.

"It's good, but this is not the best pizza place in Chicago," you say after chewing the first bite, "I'm gonna get your chef license revoked."

"Are you? With what proof? Have you tried all the pizza places to know?"

"I don't have to because I've tried the best," you hum, taking another bite. The cheese stretches as you pull it away.

"Oh yeah? Which one?" Carmy questions you, taking a drink of his beer.

"Mine. The pizza I make is the best," you shrug modestly.

"Wait. You cook?" Carmy asks, giving you a look of surprise.

Cooking is a universal thing. Most people know how to cook up to a degree, yet only some are as confident in their skills as you are. You know you're definitely not up to Carmy's level, but if there is something you know how to do properly, it's pizza.

"Yeah! You're not the only good cook here, Berzatto," you sass back at him, dipping the pizza crust in the marinara sauce.

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

"When will I try this famous pizza of yours then?" Carmy wonders. An attempt to see if you'd like to see more of him.

"I promise I'll make it for you once you open The Bear. You're too stressed to fully enjoy it now," you respond. You were reaching out. Throwing hints that you want this to continue in the foreseeable future.

The conversation continues to flow with an empty pizza box in front of you. Customers come and go until it's only the two of you and a drunk customer picking up his pizza.

"Tell me about your tattoos. Were they an act of rebellion or something else?"

It's an excuse to touch his hands. You reach for them, turning them to see the black ink on his hands and fingers. You gently trace over them with the pads of your fingers. Over the hand that's stabbed, the letters S.O.U. on his knuckles and the forget-me-nots. The one you're dying to touch, though, is the one on his bicep; you'd give anything to feel the hard muscle underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white t-shirt.

"Uh, my first tattoo is the 773. Got it when I left Chicago for the first time. After that, I sort of became addicted to them. I found they helped my anxiety when it was becoming too much. The pain distracted me and made me feel stronger than I actually was," he says, letting you touch him. He finds that he likes it. Your touch is soft and warm. Comforting.

"So what you're trying to say is you're a masochist," you say, bouncing your eyebrows at him. Your touch goes further up his arm to turn it and look at the fish tattoo on his forearm.

"I guess so," Carmy responds with a breathy laugh, "Do you have any tattoos?"

"Maybe…" You shrug as the pads of your fingers trail back down to his palm until you pull them back towards you. Carmy instantly misses the feeling, opting to cross his arms to retain the warmth you left behind.

"It's bad, isn't it?" He says knowingly. Your reaction told him everything he needed to know.

"The worst," you grimace, shaking your head at the memory of you getting it.

"So, rebellion or something else?"

"Rebellion. For all the wrong reasons," you groan, burying your face in your hands, "Growing up, everyone saw me as a good girl because that's what I was. Breaking the rules terrified me. So, as a teenager, I didn't want to be seen as a goody two shoes, so the summer before I went to college, I decided that getting a tattoo would make me a badass."

"Did it work?"

"God, no. I only got the outline done 'cause it hurt like a bitch. Then I went crying to my parents, fully having a meltdown, apologizing for disappointing them," You scrunch your nose as you say the following words, "They laughed in my face, called me a wimp, and told me to suck it up."

Carmy fully laughs at your story. Head thrown back, eyes closing, "What did you get?"

"That's a secret, Berzatto," you purse your lips, avoiding responding. You just know he'll make fun of you for it.

Everyone who has seen your tattoo has made fun of you for it, yourself included. It's so silly and not badass. Carmy will have to wait to see your tattoo, and you hope this continues so he can see it up close.

"Really? That bad?" Carmy stares wide-eyed.

"It's terrible," you nod, leaning on the table. "We should probably get going before the waitress throws a fit."

Carmy looks over his shoulder to see the waitress glaring at them. It's five minutes till close, and they've made no move to go. He turns back to you and nods towards the door. Carmy helps you with your jacket and leaves a tip on the jar for the waitress. At that, she happily calls after them with a 'Good night!'

"Do you live far?" Carmy asks, seeing how dark it is now that most places have closed. There are too many lamp posts that aren't working. He'd feel better if he could walk you home or you called an Uber. Preferably the former.

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

"It's late. Let me walk you home," Carmy says decidedly, not giving you much of a choice.

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

The pace you set is slow. You don't want your time with Carmy to end just yet. He's such an interesting and sweet guy. He's a little awkward, but it adds to his charm, and you can see he's trying.

Somewhere along the way, his hand brushes against yours briefly. Then, it happens again, and you decide to bite the bullet. You grasp his hand in yours.

"Is this okay?" You ask when he falls silent.

Carmy doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He can't even remember the last time he held a girl's hand. All he knows is he doesn't remember ever feeling this good. "Yes, uh, this is okay."

Carmy walks you up to your front door when you reach your house. You unlock the door but stay outside face-to-face with Carmy.

"Thanks for the pizza," you say, fiddling with your fingers. You were about to make one more move for the night. Because as long as Carmy allows you, you'll keep pushing for more.

"Sorry, it wasn't the best," he retorts, rubbing his jaw with his hand. You notice he does that a lot when nervous.

"Your company made up for it," you reassure him, "g'night Carmy." You kiss his cheek goodbye, watching as his cheeks blush.

"Night," he whispers.

As you turn to leave, Carmy stops you by grabbing your wrist, "Wait-uh, can I? Uh-shit. Fuck it." For a second, Carmy shuts out the excessive thoughts in his head and does what he's been dying to do for weeks.

Carmy cups your jaw and kisses you. It's soft and slow. He gives you enough leeway to pull away if it's something you don't want, but you reciprocate eagerly. You've been waiting for this all night.

As confidence surges through his body, Carmy throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around him, one of your hands resting on his neck, tangling on his curls. The tug of your fingers feels like heaven.

The kiss turns needy and desperate, your lips moving perfectly in sync. His tongue brushes over your lip; Carmy has been dying to test a theory. Are you as sweet as your name?

He's rewarded by a little noise in the back of your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's endearing, and he finds a way to make you do it again. With heads tilting to deepen the kiss, he concludes he was right. You're pure honey. Sweet and addicting.

When Carmy returns to his apartment, he gets the urge to create, to cook. He wants to bring your taste to life with his cooking. Something with honey.

"I was wondering if you'd want to come to the restaurant for Family and Friends."

You and Carmy are in your little office at Bee Hive. He stands between your legs as you sit on the desk. His lips are slightly red and swollen, and the hair at the nape of his neck is messier than usual.

"Hm, I could be persuaded," you pretend to think as you play with the golden chain around his neck, pulling him towards you.

"Yeah?" Carmy laughs, leaning to brush his lips against yours. When he feels you nod, he closes the small gap between the two of you.

His hands hold your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. He tastes like coffee, which is to be expected from the discarded cup beside you. It's funny how your relationship, if it could be called that, has moved all around Bee Hive from the register to the front and now to your office.

You're at a weird spot where you're not exactly friends because friends don't kiss, but you're not a couple either. It's a situationship for sure. You're content with what you have now, although you'd also love it if Carmy were to ask you to be more. You pin it on him being shy. He'll get around to it.

"What do you say?" Carmy questions as he kisses a trail from your cheek to your jaw.

"Consider me in," you giggle when he kisses a tickly spot.

Carmy brushes a strand of hair out of your face, remaining close to you. This is what he needs. After months of stress and anxiety of having to deal with The Beef, now The Bear, he needed you and your calming presence. Someone removed from the chaos, a safe haven.

He's quiet as his thoughts consume him, and you take the intimate position to fix his gold chain. Turning it so the clasp faces the back instead of the front. "I'm excited, Carmy," you say with a smile, brushing his cheek with your thumb.

"You can bring someone with you," Carmy offers nervously because he realizes he probably won't have the time to spend much time with you. "I-I don't think I'll be around much. I'm sorry. I'd understand if that makes you change your mind," Carmy drops his head as he braces himself for disappointment.

As the weeks pass, you learn more about Carmy and his insecurities. It doesn't deter you from wanting to be with him. Everyone has their issues. "Berzatto, stop. Look at me," you softly divert his attention, "I'd love to go and support you even if it's from the sidelines."

"You sure?" He asks once more.

If reassurance is what he needs, that's what you'll give. "Don't worry about me. This is your moment, Carmy. Enjoy it. I'll be around afterward."

"Thank you for understanding," Carmy responds, stealing one more kiss from you.

When he returns to The Bear, he helps Sydney prep the dishes they finally chose to serve. He notes how everything is laid out and anything they should fix before opening.

Richie struts into the kitchen with a suit on. Apparently, it's his thing now. Carmy figures staging at Chef Terry's restaurant had a good impact on him. All Carmy wanted was to show Richie he had what it takes. That he's not a fuck up.

"Glad to see things are going well with Honey," Richie thunders.

"What are you talking about?" Carmy says in a rush as he plates the lamb expertly.

"That thing on your neck," Richie says, motioning to his own neck. He has a smug look on his face.

"I don't have time for this, cousin," Carmy grumbles, wiping the plate where the sauce might've splattered.

Groaning, Richie grabs one of the new pans and holds it in front of Carmy. "I don't see anything," he frowns, looking at Richie for an explanation.

"Right here," Richie points towards the edge of his t-shirt around his neck.

Carmy pulls it back and finally spots what Richie has been referring to. There is a fading purple bruise on his skin, a hickey. You must've done it when he was back in your office. He'd been too busy touching you to notice.

Sydney, silently watching, pipes up, "No wonder he hasn't been as on edge lately." Carmy shoots her a glare, which causes her to shrug and laugh with a, "What? It's true."

"Ay, yo, Sugar, get in here!" Richie yells down the hall to the office.

"What is it?" Natalie barges in, afraid something went to shit.

Carmy ignores Richie as he babbles to Natalie what he found. His face is red, though, as Sydney nudges his side.

"That's enough about me. We have shit to do," Carmy shouts in his chef's voice.

Everyone in the kitchen, including Richie and Natalie, repeats, "Yes, chef!"

Walking out of the kitchen Richie, 'whispers' to Natalie, "I've always wondered if he likes to be called chef in bed."

"Fuck off, Richie," Natalie glares, but then it falls, and it's replaced with a teasing grin, "He definitely does."

"I heard that! Don't you two have better things to do?" Carmy screams at them.

"Yes, chef!"

Carmy keeps hearing Cicero's 'Uh-oh' throughout the whole day. He understands Cicero, he really does, but to call you a distraction?

His work with The Bear is only starting. They managed to make it to Friends and Family. Now, they have to keep up their best work to fill up the restaurant daily and have a waiting list. His work is far from done. He should listen to Cicero.

Cicero said it with the best of intentions. He doesn't want the Berzatto siblings to fail. He wants to believe they'll succeed and, most importantly, get him his money.

If there is something Cicero has learned throughout the years, it is that girls are distractions. They mean well, but oftentimes, they keep your eyes off the ball. Especially when it's a new relationship like Carmy's. Ultimately, it's up to Carmy to decide what he wants to do. Cicero has played his part by giving him his advice.

One last delivery is made to the restaurant an hour before opening. Richie is the one to receive it and place it in front of Carmy. "She's a keeper, Cousin," he says with a pointed look and a nod. He also wants the best for Carmy, and yet it doesn't align with Cicero.

You knew Carmy would be too stressed and all over the place to eat or drink, so you sent everyone at The Bear a drink and a pastry. One of the cups has Carmen's name with a little heart and 'good luck' written on it.

"Yeah, she is," Carmy sighs, turning the cup in his hands to look at the message. His thumb brushes over your handwriting longingly. Is listening to Cicero the wise thing to do? He's one of the most successful men he knows in his family.

When it's 10 minutes till open, Carmy changes into his uniform and looks in the mirror. His heart is racing, begging for Friends and Family not to be a complete failure. Walking out of the bathroom, Carmy is a man on a mission.

It starts relatively well, but like everything in Carmy's life, the kitchen starts welcoming in the chaos.

They are too slow getting the orders out, which causes Sydney to start doubting herself and asking Carmy to step in. He reassures her she's doing good. They just have to keep up the pace.

Then, one of the new chefs disappears mid-rush. Forcing Tina to work two stations and Marcus to step out of his to help Sydney. Carmy ignores some weird tension between them as he works on ensuring the dishes are good to go.

Next thing he knows, Sugar is rushing into the kitchen, yelling at him about forks. It's wasted time, as he can't do anything about it. A shrill reverberates inside his head as he looks at the ticking clock. It's enough to give him a headache.

With no one to take a dish to its table, Carmy takes it upon himself to do it. There's no time to re-fire or wait for someone. He places it on their table and pours the tea into their cups before retreating with an 'enjoy.'

He looks at his restaurant, and suddenly, the ringing in his head gets louder. Sitting in a booth is his old boss, staring back at him like he did back in New York. Like he was waiting for Carmy to fail.

His voice echoes in Carmy's head. Why are you so fuckin' slow. Hurry up. Go faster motherfucker. Talentless piece of shit.

Right before Carmy spirals, it all goes away. His focus shifts entirely as he sees you taking your seat for the night. The one he chose because he'd be able to see you from the kitchen. You have successfully blocked the mirage he'd conjured up.

You're there with your brother as Richie talks you up, thanking you for coming. As if sensing him, your eyes lock with Carmys. Shyly, you send him a wave, which he returns, thanking you in his head for getting there at the perfect time.

Carmy ducks back to the kitchen with newfound energy. Richie enters shortly after him.

"Chef, your girl is here."

"Thanks, Chef, um, do you have the notepad?" Carmy asks as he continues cleaning dishes and making sure each one is up to par.

"Here you go."

Taking the notepad from Richie, he begins scribbling. I love- No, too fuckin' soon. Thank you for- Nope, it's too stale.

I'm happy you're here, Honey. Wait for me after you're done? -Bear

"Here," Carmy hands it to him without even looking at Richie.

"Keep up the good work, Chefs," Richie yells out to the room before disappearing to the front of the house. The door swinging shut behind him.

"Yes, Chef!"

Something isn't working in the kitchen. They're too backed up, and no matter how hard they try, they're always a tad too slow. Through Sydney surrounding the wheel to Richie, Carmy steals glances out the kitchen window. You're smiling at whatever your brother says, your lips sipping the wine he chose. Carmy can get through this night because, in the end, you'll be waiting for him.

"There he is," you sing as you spot Carmy walking out of the kitchen. The chef's whites back in his locker as he sports his white t-shirt, jeans, and jacket.

Fak, who kept you company while Carmy finished up, speaks up next, "My brother, I'm gonna grab a sandwich and head home. Honey, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too, Neil!"

"Thanks for everything," Carmy tells him, giving him a hug and a pat like dudes do.

Carmy turns and grabs your hand to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "What did you think?"

"It was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," you tell him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

There's a reason Carmy has had so many accolades despite his young age. He has a gift in the kitchen. The moment his food touched your taste buds, your life changed. He and Sydney outdid themselves, and the way everything flowed showed how much work they put into the restaurant.

"You're exaggerating," Carmy modestly says, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"I'm really not," you shake your head, pursing your lips. Carmy can't resist placing a small peck on your red-painted lips.

"What about your famous pizza?"

"No, it might be the best pizza in Chicago, but whatever I ate today topped it," you smile at him, scrunching your nose. "Consider your chef's license reinstated,"

"Thanks," Carmy laughs breathily, "Do you mind if we walk? I feel some of the rush still."

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the streets of Chicago. It's silent momentarily as the wind cools Carmy's heated face. He places his hand along with yours into his pocket.

"Did your brother like it?" He asks, breaking the ice.

"Oh yeah. I'm officially like the best sister ever," you respond, squeezing his hand.

You had accidentally forgotten that your brother had passed the Bar exam. So, you didn't have time to get him anything in celebration. You figured dinner at a lovely new restaurant would help while you got him a proper present.

"How did you feel throughout, though? It looked intense." You often found yourself looking through the small glass window into the kitchen. They were always on the move, looking for the next thing to do.

"It didn't just look like it. I'm used to it, though," Carmy admits with a sniff. Everyone's best and worst habits shone through for those couple of hours. It's an environment he's all too familiar with, in and out of the kitchen.

"That rough," you grimace.

"It's fine. We have a lot to work on, but it's a start, and it wasn't entirely terrible," Carmy says, thinking back on tonight. Before coming out to meet you, he wrote down a couple of things to go through with Sugar and Sydney.

"Good, 'cause I hope The Bear sticks around the block," you say, bumping your shoulder with his.

You invite Carmy into your house when you arrive. He takes up your offer, holding your hand to help you balance as you take your heels off. It reminds Carmy he forgot to mention how beautiful you looked today.

He follows you to the kitchen, watching your hips sway and your dress skirt swishing. Padding to the wine fridge, you pick out a bottle of red to celebrate.

Carmy indulges in looking at your legs as you stretch up to reach for the glasses of wine up in your cabinets. His blue eyes darken as your dress hikes up, exposing your pretty thighs.

His gaze darts back up at you when you turn around to place the glasses on the kitchen counter. You hand him the wine opener so he can do the honors because you suck at taking the cork out. It's why you mainly stick to cheaper wines with twist-off caps.

"Here is to The Bear and its amazing owner," you say, lifting your glass in front of you.

"Here's to not fuckin' it up entirely," Carmy follows, making you giggle. Your wine glasses clink, and you take a drink.

Placing the glass back down, Carmy pins you against the counter, his strong hands resting on the edge of it. You look at him through your lashes, a hand coming up to his chest to feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"You look beautiful. I like the dress," Carmy murmurs. It's better late than never.

The dress you wear is a pretty shade of light blue. Simple yet dressy. The neckline gives him a good view of your cleavage and has long sleeves to compensate for the shorter length. They currently cover the goosebumps lining your skin.

"Yeah? I picked it out thinking you might," you reveal, biting your lip. The shade reminded you of his eyes.

"You were right," he whispers, cupping your jaw. As pretty as the dress is, he's sure it'll look so much better on the floor.

Carmy closes his eyes as he leans down to kiss you. He's always struggled with words, so he hopes it's enough for you to catch what he's trying to say.

You smile into the kiss, blindly leaving your glass to the side to be able to touch him. Your palm presses against his chest and taut abdomen. He hides a nice amount of muscle under his t-shirts, a pleasant surprise.

Carmy easily lifts you up to sit down on the kitchen island. He steps between your legs, never breaking the heated kiss. The hands on your waist trail down to your thighs and under your dress. Carmy's tattooed hands squeeze your ass and thighs, earning him a moan from you.

This is the farthest you've ever gotten, and you're more than ready to have all of him. Carmy knows this, which leads to his thoughts getting out of control.

He has to make a decision now. Does he allow himself to be with you, or does he remain by himself like always? Richie's, Sugar's, Cicero's, and Sydney's voices all shout at him different things. Some are in favor, and others are in opposition. 'Uh oh.'

He can't lead you on and sleep with you if he will back out tomorrow. The voices become deafening in an instant, ripping him away from your embrace. His emotions bubbled over and spilled all over the place.

"Wait, stop, I just-" Carmy breathes heavily, taking a couple of steps back from you. Carmy's hand comes up to his forehead as he attempts to organize his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" You ask worriedly. Did you do something wrong?

Carmen's thoughts spill out his mouth without making much sense as he paces in your kitchen. "I can't stop thinking about it and owe it to my team..."

"Carm?" You slide off the kitchen counter, approaching him slowly.

"-keeps saying it's a distraction," he rambles mostly to himself. His heart is pounding painfully in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was having a heart attack.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's a distraction?" Softly, you grab onto his arms, stopping him in his tracks, trying to find his lost gaze.

"You. Whatever this is," Carmy breathes, finally meeting your eyes, which he instantly regrets as your eyes turn sad.

The watering of your eyes is unintentional, as is the knot forming in your throat. "You think I'm distracting you?" You question barely above a whisper.

His response is instant, "Fuck, no, the opposite. W-When I'm with you or-or think about you, things get clearer, and it's-it's when I feel the most focused." Carmy holds your shoulders, comforting you because he never meant to hurt you. He can't stand the sad look in your eyes.

Slowly, you begin to piece together his rambling and conclude that other people have been telling him you're a distraction. You wonder if they don't want him to be happy. The Bear is the center of Carmy's life, and before that, it was the restaurant in New York. He deserves more than this crazy job.

"Then fuck what others tell you, Carmen. You deserve to have a life outside The Bear." Maybe you're selfish because you don't want to lose him, but you hope he believes your words.

"I-I don't. I don't deserve all your attention or your affection. I'm nothing special. I don't deserve you." Carmy says, shaking his head with furrowed brows.

Weeks ago, he had no source of enjoyment. He said it himself at the support group. Now, he has you, yet he can't bear the thought of you wanting to be with him. He feels like he's tricking you into a bad deal. That's what he is, though, isn't he? An overachieving fuck up with tons upon tons of baggage.

Carmen Berzatto is an anxious person with too many problems in his life. He has a fucked up family. His mother is a mentally unstable alcoholic. His brother was addicted to painkillers and decided that shooting himself on a bridge was better than living this life. That's without mentioning all the trauma he has from his job and the terrible people he's worked with.

What good does he have to offer you?

"Yes, you do," you reassure him, placing your hands on his cheeks. The cool metal of your rings soothes him somewhat, grounding him. "You deserve all that and more, Carmy. You're so sweet and kind and hard-working. You've been through shit. You deserve something good in life. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's not, but don't close yourself off."

You're begging at this point. Whatever this relationship is, it's just starting. He's not giving himself a chance. You like Carmy so damn much. He's funny without knowing it and thoughtful, too. There are so many qualities he doesn't realize he has.

His eyes watch you as tears line them. He's silently pleading for you to convince him. To get him out of his own head and forget the expectations others have on him.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Carm. It's your call, but I've enjoyed our last couple of months together. I know we don't know each other completely, but I want to know everything about you. I have feelings for you, so whatever you decide, I'll support it."

Being honest is all you can do at this point. You pour your heart out and hope Carmy chooses you.

You and Carmy stand in the middle of your kitchen. Face to face, reaching out towards each other. It's clear as day that you want the same thing. It's only a matter of taking the right steps now.

"I can't let you go," Carmy responds, grabbing the hand on his cheek. His thumb brushes over the back of it.

"Then don't."

Carmy's decision is made. Without another thought, he smashes his lips against yours. He grabs the back of your neck, tilting your head to meet his heated kiss.

It's more intense now that the cards are on the table. Nothing to hold him back.

Tongues clash together as your bodies seek each other out. The temperature rises when Carmy lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands are on the back of your thighs, holding tight onto you.

"Bedroom?" He asks, breaking the kiss, a trail of saliva between the two of you.

"Down the hallway," you breathe heavily, kissing down his neck.

Carmy makes it to the bedroom, opening the door with a bang. He spots your bed, placing you in the middle with him holding himself up on top of you.

He watches as your back meets the bed and your fair fans around you like a halo. The curvature of your breasts accentuated even more from the position.

Carmy hikes your leg further up his hips as he dips down to kiss a wet trail down to the neckline of your dress. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on the rounded flesh, nipping at the skin playfully when you arch your back to push more into him.

"Carmy," you breathe, cupping his jaw to pull him back to your lips. Grinding your hips, you manage to graze against his bulge.

"Shit," Carmy shakily curses, thrusting his hips to meet your touch once more.

Curiously, your hands wander across his body. Carmy's moans in your ear make your panties wetter than they already are.

You grasp the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off. You're desperate to have him, your cunt aches for him. Your nails scratch down his firm stomach when he bites into your earlobe, softly calling your name.

"Unzip me," you pant, pushing him away and pulling your hair off to the side.

Carmy grabs the small zipper, pushing it down and exposing your pretty skin. As he slides the fabric off of you, he kisses your shoulders and back, taking note of the goosebumps on your skin.

His mind is in the present, and nothing can take it away from him. It's like a switch he managed to turn off in his brain. No more family drama, no more The Bear. It's just you...and him. Honey and Bear.

You stretch your neck to the side, giving Carmy more space to pepper kisses across the delicate skin. The dress pooling at your feet exposes your chest, and Carmy's hands come up from behind you. His fingers shyly brush up your stomach, tickling you, until they find your breasts.

He draws a moan from you as he squeezes them in his palms, pushing you back to meet his chest; turning your head to the side, you find his lips.

The kiss breaks when he slides one of his hands into your underwear, dipping his finger to feel your wetness. Your arm reaches back to dig your fist in his curls.

"You're soaked, Honey," he moans, finding your clit to tease it.

"Been waiting for so long, Carmy," you whine as your hips stutter along with the flicks of his wrist.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now," he purrs into your ear.

Carmy can hear the distinct 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of his fingers against your clit. It spurs him on as he slips a finger into you. He can't wait to have his cock inside of you, snug and warm.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you gasp when he prods another finger into your entrance. Hanging onto his arm across your chest, you roll your hips against his fingers.

"I got you," he says, digging his fingers deeper into you and curling them.

Your knees buckle as the tips of his fingers curl and hit your g spot repeatedly. If it weren't for him, you'd be on the floor. With your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure, you stutter out, "I'm gonna cum."

Carmy's hand is wet from your juices as he ups the ante. Just as your walls begin to squeeze around his fingers, he pulls them out to circle around your clit.

"Oh, f-fuck!" You squeal, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

The way your clit softly twitches under the pads of his fingers fucks with Carmy. It makes his cock throb and leak into his jeans.

Untangling from his embrace, you place a breathless kiss on Carmy's lips. His slick digits dig into your hips as he prolongs it.

Blindly, you find the edge of his jeans and unbutton them. If Carmy notices, he doesn't say anything. You want to give him one more reason to stay with you.

He moans into your mouth when you grasp his length through his boxers. He's rock hard as he desperately ruts against your hand.

With your hold still on him, you push him to sit on the bed. Carmy looks up at you lustfully. You plant a single short kiss on his lips before kneeling on the floor between his legs. You leave love bites down his chest while looking up at him through your lashes.

Carmy brushes away any hair that falls on your face, his blue eyes focused solely on you. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pull them down along with his underwear.

His length pops up from its confines, slapping against his tummy. Its tip is a pretty pink shade, with a thick length and a slight curve to it. You salivate instantly at the sight of it.

Carmy's nervous under you. It's been a long since he's been with someone else, and he's never been the most confident.

"Relax," you say teasingly, kissing around his lower tummy to calm him.

Finally, your hand wraps around his cock, lightly pumping it. Leaving sloppy kisses down his happy trail, you feel Carmy's stomach taut in anticipation.

It's been so fuckin' long.

With your eyes staring into his hungry ones, you kiss the pink head that glistens with pre, teasingly brushing it against your lips. Keeping eye contact, you lick his length from base to tip. You alternate between kissing and licking for a minute, enjoying watching Carmy squirm.

"Fuck, Honey," Carmy throws his head back at your torturous pace.

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

Taking mercy on him, you part your lips to take his length into your warm, wet mouth, bobbing your head to a steady rhythm. Prying one of Carmy's hands from the bedsheets, you place it in your hair, encouraging him to use you.

"Good girl," he moans, fisting your hair to force you to take more of his cock. You let your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the strong muscles underneath.

Carmen observes you with hooded eyes as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him expertly. He's obsessed with how your lips leave behind a tinge of red lipstick on his skin.

"Shit-Fuck me," he yells into the room when you swallow around him.

You want him to cum, but Carmy has other plans. He doesn't think he'll last long if you make him cum now, so after the stunt you pulled, he pulls you off his sensitive cock.

The sight in front of him is erotic as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. The tears lining your eyes and blushed nose add to that pretty picture.

"c'me 'ere," he says, helping you up and kissing you as he leads you back to the bed. He tugs off your wet panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

You lay back on your pillows with Carmy slotted between your legs. It's torture having him so close and yet so far. Now that you've gotten a taste of his cock you need more.

Carmy touches the inside of your thighs, inching his way closer to your cunt. He instantly notices how fuckin' wet you are. You're dripping even more than before.

"Sucking me off, got you this wet, princess?" He asks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Mhm, Carmy, wish you would've cum in my mouth," you admit, tilting your head up to brush your lips against his.

"You have such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he chuckles darkly.

Where did this side of you come from? You're usually so sweet and delicate. He should've known you would be a freak in bed. To think he almost let this all go.

"Carmen, please."

"Please, what?" Carmen teases, lining his cock against your opening, wetting his cock.

"Fuck me," you moan, kissing his jaw.

"'m gonna fuck you good, princess," he promises, with a shaky nod before he remembers, "Fuck! I-I don't have a condom with me."

"I should have some in my drawer," you mention breathlessly.

Carmy opens the condom in record time but is surprised when you take it from his hands and roll it down his shaft yourself. You just want an excuse to keep touching him.

With your leg hiked up, he aligns himself and slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the sensation. Carmy, for one, is trying to not bust a nut so soon because you're so tight and warm.

Meanwhile, you hold onto Carmy's back as he stretches you out. It's been so long, and your toys aren't nearly as thick as him. You breathily moan in his ear, which he takes as a good sign as he begins thrusting more forcefully and deeper.

Carmy hopes this isn't a dream, and if it is, he hopes he doesn't wake up anytime soon. He has one hand holding onto your thigh and the other holding himself up. His gold chain dangles above you as he picks his head up from its spot on your shoulder. You take the chance to tug on it, returning his attention to your lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good, princess," Carmy groans, squeezing your thigh.

"I love your cock, Carmy," you whine, feeling the drag of his cock on your walls. The pleasure is all-consuming, leaving a fuzzy feeling in your brain.

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

His hips snap hard against yours, hitting that spot each and every time. His pelvis hitting your clit. He squeezes your thigh, hips, and sides before his hand squeezes your tits, too, playing with your nipples.

Suddenly, he straightens up, pulling you down the bed to have you flushed against his pelvis. He's a sight for sore eyes that forces you to keep your eyes open.

His thrusts are more forceful like this, where he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you towards him with each snap. It makes your tits bounce, hypnotizing him.

Through your lustful gaze, he looks like a marble statue. His chest glimmers under the lowlights of your room as sweat clings to him, his chain jumping against the blushed skin of his chest, and his fucking hair falling over his pretty eyes. The set of his jaw could've been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Your hands indulgently reach down to touch him in any way you can. You can only reach his stomach, where a nice pair of abs appear due to the effort.

"You like what you see?" Carmy teases. He's entirely lost on you because otherwise, he wouldn't be as cocky to say that.

"You're so handsome," you pitifully say. Your brain not computing as it should, but how can it when it's being fucked out of you?

Carmy doesn't know how to respond. It's not often he's called handsome or looked at as lustfully as you're looking at him. Thankfully, he doesn't need to say much as your eyes roll back and you squeeze your walls around him.

"Carmy, I'm so close," you pant, trying to find any part of him to hold. He offers you his hand, lacing your fingers together.

"Just a little longer, princess," Carmy groans as you clench around him. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

He glances down at the spot where you and him meet to see a ring of white on the base of his cock. He's enthralled with the way you stretch to accommodate him and the way your pink walls drag along his length when he pulls out. Fuckin' beautiful.

Putting all his knowledge to use, he thumbs your clit, making you jolt. He needs you to cum now, or he won't make it. His balls feel like they're about to burst.

"Carmy," you cry out, tightening the hold on his hand.

You teeter on the edge for only a second until you cum, waves of pleasure washing over you. Carmy curses from above you as your tightening walls choke his cock, making him cum too. He stutters his hips a couple more times, riding out his orgasm.

He leans back down again, catching your lips in a small kiss. His body slowly relaxes against yours as his head rests on your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and perfume.

"That was good," you breathe heavily, rubbing your hands up and down your back. You're just starting to think clearly.

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

There's a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.

A bubble encases you, and it can't be popped as long as you stay in your bedroom. Carmy doesn't want to leave; it's late already, and in a couple of hours, he has to get up and go to The Bear to repeat the process.

For once, he forgets about that and focuses solely on you. He has a couple of hours to spare. Sleep is overrated.

You face each other on the bed, talking in hushed whispers. Your fingers trace the '773' tattoo on his bicep like you've always wanted to do. It tickles Carmy, so he grabs your hand and kisses your palm.

"Now that I'm thinking about it. I didn't see your tattoo," he whispers to prevent disturbing the peace.

Your face warms at his words. You had forgotten about that. He's seen a lot of you in the past couple of hours. What's a bit more of skin?

"You missed my big bad tattoo?" you joke, poking his nose.

"Show me," he says with a lopsided smile.

You make it dramatic, rolling your eyes and giving him a big sigh. Sitting up on the bed, you peel the bed sheets from your body. Carmy props himself up on his elbow in anticipation.

Right there, on your left side and under the curve of your breast is a small outline of Winnie the Pooh's face. Carmy touches it, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. Unsurprisingly, it's precisely what he expected from you.

A few chuckles pass his lips as he pulls you back into his arms.

"Don't laugh. It made sense at the time," you whine, covering yourself back up.

Carmy pulls you to his chest, kissing your temple, "I'm sure it does. Pooh Bear loves his Honey," Just like he does.

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

And he does because Carmy, aka The Bear, is quickly falling for his Honey.

A couple of days later, Carmy is back at your house helping you prepare the famous pizza you promised him. He lets you take the lead on everything, preferring to follow your instructions rather than let his mind run wild. It's not like you'll let him do most of the work anyway; it's your recipe, and you're protective over it.

"Can you chop up the veggies?" You ask him as you lay down the dough in a pan.

"Yes, Chef," he nods, kissing your cheek as he digs through your kitchen drawers for a knife.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," you muse, shaking your shoulders as you knead the dough to spread it.

"Don't let it get to your head, Hun," Carmy smiles, slicing the vegetables expertly.

Cooking with Carmy is surprisingly easier than you thought. He's not controlling over the kitchen or judgy. He lets you do your thing in peace, following your orders no matter how strange they might be. This is your kitchen, not his.

As you spread the sauce and cheese over one of the doughs, Carmy gets a call. He wipes his hands with a rag and picks it up. You only hear his side of the conversation.

"No, I'm off tonight. I'm with my girl. Call Sugar. She should be able to help you with that. Great. Thanks."

Carmy had promised himself that he would try to balance it all better. He has his team to help each other out. The Bear is a priority, but so are you because you help him keep whatever sanity he has left.

Carmy hangs up, and when he returns to you, he notices the grin on your lips as you put the toppings he chopped on the pizza.

"What's with the smile?" Carmy stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he props his head on your shoulder. Your hair tickles his nose, smelling the notes of coconut of your shampoo he digs his head farther into it.

"I'm your girl?" You ask, the smile still present on your face. He'd missed your initial reaction when you heard him call you 'my girl.' You almost dropped the container of pepperoni that was in your hands. It's a shock cause he never asked you to be his girl.

Carmy pauses and tenses up against you. "Uh, yes? Hold up. Turn around," he orders, as he places his hand on your hips to turn your body around.

"Yes, chef," you respond cheekily, your arms around his neck, careful not to touch his sweater with your messy hands.

"Aren't you my girl?" He frowns, rubbing a thumb over your hips.

"I could be, but I don't remember you asking," you pretend to think.

Carmy never directly asked you to be his girlfriend, and you never asked him to be your boyfriend. You might as well be a couple since you've been dating long enough. You decide to seize the opportunity now to get it out of him. Having a proper anniversary day would be nice because you hope this lasts.

"I see, my mistake," Carmy nods, catching your vibe, "Honey…"

"Yes, Carmy?" You blink innocently at him.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" He finally asks.

You could joke around but decided against it cause the moment is perfect, "I'd love to," you nod, giving him a small kiss.

When the pizza is cooked, you bring it over to the dining table. Serving Carmy a pretty slice. Excitedly, you wait for him to bite into it and taste it.

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

"You were right. Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy agrees with an unbelievable laugh. He's got a lot to learn from you. It's the truth, or maybe he's blinded by his feelings. Only time will tell where you and Carmy will end up.

The End?

thank you guys for pulling through and reading! i know it's a slow burn but i hope you liked it! i certainly enjoyed writing it even though it took me like 4 months.

if you liked it, i would appreciate you liking it, commenting or reblogging. if you have some feedback feel free to send it my way too. i wanna get better at this whole writing thing!

thank you! bye xx

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader

[chocopokkie]

Bound by Shadows

Summary: You attempt to break up with Alastor but it doesn't go so well.

TW: Non-con, yandere-ish Alastor, forced relationship, smut (let me know if I missed any!)

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

"I'm really sorry, Al," you murmur softly, your gaze avoiding his once-adoring eyes, now fixed with a grin that cuts deeper than any blade. "I just don't think we should be together anymore..."

"We can still be friends!" you hastily add, your voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty, "I just don't think—"

But before you can finish, a dark laugh cuts through the air like a chilling gust of wind.

"Haha!" Alastor's laughter drips with disdain as he interrupts, his tone laced with judgment. "My dear, I truly don't think you know what you're talking about. You think after everything I've done for you, you can just leave me, little doe? I believe I need to give you a reminder of who you belong to," he growls, his words like a predator's low warning growl.

Suddenly, the room shifts and morphs around you, the comforting walls of your room replaced by the dark, dense canopy of a forest. Panic surges through you, but before you can even grasp the gravity of the situation, you're violently shoved to the forest floor. The earthy scent fills your senses as black tendrils snake around your limbs, rendering escape impossible.

"Alastor, please, what are you doing?" you plead, your voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. You attempt to struggle against the oppressive grip of the tendrils, but they hold you firmly in place, like iron chains. "Please, you're really scaring me!" you beg, desperation seeping into your words as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, as you should be, dear~," Alastor purrs sinisterly, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Because I'm going to make sure this is a lesson you never forget." With a snap of his fingers, the tendrils forcefully flip you over, leaving you on your knees with your face pressed against the cold, hard forest floor. Dread washes over you as you realize what's about to happen.

"N-No... Please..." you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation tainting every syllable. "Okay, I'm sorry! Please, I'll never do anything like this again, I swear! I love you! Just please stop..." You plead, reaching out to him in a futile attempt to appeal to his humanity, to make him see reason. But all you receive in response is a dark chuckle that sends chills down your spine.

"Oh, I know, baby~," Alastor responds, his tone laced with a sickening mixture of affection and possessiveness. "But if you aren't punished, you might get that stupid idea of trying to leave me in that pretty little head of yours. And we can't have that again, now can we?"

Alastor moves quickly, his movements fluid yet unsettlingly precise. With a swift motion, he shoves your dress over your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist. You gasp in shock and protest, but before you can utter a word, his clawed finger slashes through your panties, cutting them away with a cruel efficiency.

His dark chuckle cuts through the air like a blade through silence. "Bad girls don't get any foreplay," he growls, his voice dripping with malice as he works at his pants, freeing his cock. With grace, he positions himself at your unprepared entrance.

"I'm sorry, Alastor! Please, just stop," you plead, desperation lacing your voice as tears stream down your face. You know there's nothing you can do to halt his actions, trapped and powerless against him.

Your scream rips through the air like a haunting melody as Alastor mercilessly shoves his entire length inside of you, setting a brutal pace that leaves you gasping for breath. Each thrust is accompanied by a symphony of pain and desperation, your pleas falling on deaf ears as he revels in your suffering. Alastor savors the sound of your cries, finding perverse pleasure in the symphony of agony echoing through the forest.

One of his hands snakes around to rub your clit, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and spasm in response to the new sensation, but the relentless grip of the tendrils keeps you firmly anchored to the forest floor, rendering you utterly helpless against Alastor's desires. He continues his assault, relishing in the control he exerts over your body and mind.

As the realization sinks in, a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach. You understand now that there's no escape from his grasp, no reprieve from his twisted desires. In that moment, it becomes painfully clear: you belong to him, body and soul, for eternity. Alastor has ensured that you'll never forget your place, sealing your fate with every merciless thrust and cruel manipulation. You are his forever, and he delights in reminding you of that fact.

You can never escape.

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers with a cruel intimacy, "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" With renewed vigor, he increases the speed and pressure on your clit, driving you to the brink of ecstasy even as tears streak down your face, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations coursing through your body.

As you came around Alastor's cock, he resumes his brutal pace. His claws dig into your hips, leaving marks of possession as he relentlessly chases his own release. With a guttural groan, you feel him twitch inside you, his hot seed spilling deep within, painting your walls white with his essence.

"Now then, have you learned your lesson, love?" Alastor's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Gradually, you feel the tendrils loosen their grip around you, allowing you to collapse onto the forest floor, your body trembling with exhaustion and sobs wracking your frame.

"Y-yes," you manage to whisper weakly, your voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of emotions raging within you.

"Lovely~. Now get yourself cleaned up! We have reservations tonight!" His words, almost sickeningly cheerful, echo in your ears as he strides away, leaving you alone in the cold darkness of the forest. As you lay there, broken and defeated, you can't help but reconsider everything—your choices, your worth, and the twisted dynamic that binds you to him in ways you never imagined possible.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #hazbin x reader #tw noncon #yandere #yandere alastor #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

(season 2) stepbro!rafecameron x innocent!reader...DARKER CONTENT BELOW PLEASE BE AWARE! (also i kinda hate this but..)

rafe really was like an older brother to you..at first.

for example, he would tease you like you were his younger sister, but his lingering eyes and touches suggested that he thought of you as more than his 'sister'.

he'd reach his hand back to tug sharply on your hair to hear you whine when rose and ward was setting up the camera for a family picture--wheezie slapping his arm and sarah chastizing him as you pouted your glossy lips and rubbed your sore scalp. of course he'd act like he didn't do anything, rolling his eyes and trying to hide a smug smirk.

when he would wrestle you and manhandle you on the ground, his hands grappling at your waist, hips, arms, etc. as a means of getting you back after you snatched the television remote from his hand. he'd press down on your body, his hands pinning your arms down above your head as you giggled and squealed. when you tried to fight against his body with yours, he quickly moved one of his hands off your wrist to pin your hip down, your skirt riding up and bunching up when his hand adjusted his firm placing on you-- pink panties showing your swollen folds--and he felt his cock jump in his slacks. "stop---stop moving, y/n," he'd pant, a small laugh following a lingering smirk that was etched on his lips. his hair flopping in his eyes as he held you down. he straddled your body when you tried to push on his chest to get him off of you as you quipped a small, "can't breathe, rafey!" biting your lower lip as you tried to maneuver your way out of his grip. you were still holding onto the remote like a vice, though.

"yeah, well, maybe you would be able to breathe if you gave me the damn remote--ah!." he moved his hand to pin your hand that wasn't holding onto the remote down as you were about to slap him in the face.

because rafe is...well, rafe, and his anger issues fire off at any given moment, he flipped you around on your tummy pulling you up so your back was against his chest as he ripped the remote from your hand, breathing heavily in your ear as you whined. "don' fuckin' hit me, a'ight? hm?" he was quiet, a small threat that sent a chill to lick up your spine. "nod if you understand.." he said softly, with a bit of an edge laced in to his words. he liked when you were pliable like this. when you didn't nod, your brain in a blur-- he tsked, grabbing your face with his free hand once he threw the remote onto the couch, then gripped your face hard enough to force a pout on your lips as he harshly forced you to nod. "good, good." he said, and that was the first time you felt a little bit of fear around him. and he knew that. and he liked it. he had to put a pillow over his boner as you got up from the ground hopping onto the cushion next to him to see what show he was putting on, playing with the golden rings adorning his fingers.

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x innocent!reader #rafe cameron x reader #stepbro!rafecameron #stepbrother!rafecameron #stepbrother!rafecameron x reader #dark content! #stepbrother!rafecameron x innocent!reader #ultraviolence #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #dark!rafecameron #outerbanks

[hollowtakami]

HEYOOO

so I read your keigo fics and I really loved them! What do you think about Keigo waking up from a nightmare and he can't find you, so he starts to panic, and when you come back from the toilet (or wherever you were), he immediately latches onto you panicking and crying

Man he is so sweet

hi anon! ^_^ tysm for your ask, it rlly made me smile hehe. here’s a small drabble as thanks:)

(apologies if its rusty, the only thing i have written as of late is uni essays-)

keigo gasped for air as though he’d been reborn, feathers pricked out like needles.

he clutched at his shirt like a vice, daring to tear through his skin and stress grip his dying heart. he panted, delirious amidst his fear.

the suns of his eyes bounced across every corner of the room, his free hand scratching away the duvet in search of you. nothing, not even his feathers could sense you, clouded by fright.

what the avian didn’t know was that you hadn’t left him like his father, you’d only gotten to get a glass of water after the drought in your throat had woken you up, not nearly as violently as the way your boyfriend’s body treated him.

what you didn’t know was that your boyfriend was unfurling faster than the might of his wings ever could.

pattering through the hallway of your apartment with a glass and a plenished throat, you gently broke your way into your shared bedroom with a tired hand.

your eyes retreated behind their lids at the light you swore you hadn’t put on, lest you disturb keigo in his sleep.

no, an instinctual feather did so.

you stop, feet planting into the carpet as your brain tries to process the scene in front of you, whirring through its fatigue.

there was keigo, plumage fluffed up in fear, eyes wild and pinned on you, your bedsheets in tatters.

“kei?” words clawed up your throat as you slowly made your way to the bedside table and placed the glass. keigo grabbed your wrist the moment you’d set it down, you managed to get a better look at him.

sunny bedhead and a dark sky lining his eyes, his chest heaved along with the heavy burdens that laced his blood, what was his own that didn’t stain his hands.

no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, keigo would never be clean. it had trickled into his brain, and he couldn’t even escape it in his sleep.

“stay,“ he silently barked, his words scratchy.

keigo’s stress grip on your wrist wouldn’t let up, the avian latched onto you for dear life.

your face fell, eyebrows furrowed as you saw his glassy eyes, glossed over with fear.

“bad dream, baby?” you whispered, slowly raising your wrist to run a hand through keigo’s hair, massaging his scalp with gentle nails.

keigo only choked on a sob, his vulnerabilities racing down his cheeks to their end. if only this would end, he begged to a god he wasn’t sure existed.

you brought your wrist down, eyes trained on the dots of his.

“‘m not going anywhere, baby boy,” you soothed, gentle reassurance hanging in the air until keigo was ready to pluck it down and hold it close to him.

he tried to not, more words contesting in his throat.

keigo looked down at himself, feathers shaking more than his tired body.

“bad..” he gestured to himself.

“you aren’t him, birdie,” your words were soft, sun against his skin. his heart swelled amidst the silent rage of his head.

soon, you felt keigo’s grip starting to soften too.

you grabbed the glass of water with a free hand, using the other to usher strands of gold out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ear as you helped him sip some water.

kissing his forehead, you cooed, “that’s my boy,”

keigo chirped, too frightened to speak. he would only chirp or coo when this regressed into his fear, not that you minded. you knew that his bird qualities were something he was forced to bury, much like other innocents.

but, there wasn’t any blood on keigo’s hands.

the only thing in his hands was the silk of your skin, fingers intertwined as you spoke to him with the song of your voice, an angel he would tell himself he didn’t deserve.

your wings were pure, his stained red. he was born like this, conceived by a monster of a man. so, that must mean that he was born the same.

it took an angel like you to help him realise he had never fallen, it was someone else who had clipped his wings.

#<3 #tysm for the ask!! #i had a lot of fun with this one #finally writing after over a fortnight or so #back to uni work i go- #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami fluff #mha comfort #mha x gender neutral reader #my hero academia hawks #hawks my hero academia #hawks x gn reader #reverse comfort #keigo takami #boku no hero academia #mha hawks #takami keigo #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n

[ladybirdswritings]

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: Spending more time with the miserable Mr. Snow, against your will, only proves to you exactly why he is a man you have sworn to loathe for all eternity. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: so happy you all loved the first part — so i guess i’m continuing ahaha. as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated! also, feel free to lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

two

The mist of September’s end and October’s greeting is a thick, heavy blanket in the air. You only scowl at it as you pick up your tiered skirt from where it drags against emerald moss and dirt. A storm is nearby.

You would melt into this very soil if you could. Become one with the lilacs and peonies if it meant you’d never be prevailed upon to marry again by the force of your mother.

Mama is unwell. As always but, with more fervor now. The dance was most successful for Jane. She and Sejanus have been exchanging kind letters with pomegranate stained kisses garnishing the print. Even so, mama is viciously unhappy.

The cherrywood cabinets slam louder when you pass, and her eyes narrow at any mention of the gathering. Perhaps your behavior was a great embarrassment for her. If only you were as divine as Jane.

The house is lively, far too lively for your liking at this settling hour. Sisters here and sisters there. They busy themselves with the grand piano and awful singing. It isn’t long until one of the twins rushes forward with a sealed envelope clasped tightly in hand.

“Mama! It is for Jane!”

You snatch the paper from her palm, worrisome that she will ruin it with how tightly she squeezes. Beyond this, you are most eager to see the development in your own personal romance novel starring your dearest sister. Mama slaps your hand away in turn, tugging it back into a monstrous grasp that nearly shreds it to minuscule little pieces.

You see the breath halt and dwell comfortably in her throat, unwilling to part or falter. This is most important to her, trivial matter as it is.

So long as Jane is happy…

You gaze on at the girl with petal-pink cheeks and bright eyes — her smile is a thing of beauty and joy at the mere idea that Sejanus Plinth could admire her.

“Mama! What does it say!”

Her hands tremble like hummingbirds now, and your frown stitches itself promptly upon your pretty face. Oh no, he is certain to have changed his mind.

At least he was kind and gentleman enough to inform dear Jane by letter.

That joy, excitement and eagerness once swimming within your mother’s eyes has dissipated to sheer horror.

“When did we receive this?” She whispers, a ghastly and terror laced sound.

“This morning!” One of the twins happily offers, twirling her chocolate ringlet tight enough to knot.

Mama cries out a sound of agony, shoving the paper hard against Jane’s chest — enough so that she stumbles. She is a frantic thing, running round your quaint living space like that of a farm animal who has lost its head.

You are fueled by your own confusion, constricting your mind to only wait upon Jane. She shakily reads the crumbled thing — hesitance becoming her. Her eyes shift then; a look of joy, excitement, fear — then dread.

“What is it?” You whisper, watching as mama mutters nonsense and brushes the collection of scattered breadcrumbs from the countertop — eyes wide as the moon aglow at midnight.

“Mr. Plinth and his sister, alongside Mr. Snow and sir Plinth’s dear — rich uncle, have all planned to meet with us this evening. They’ve taken a carriage, and have made arrangements to arrive by sundown.”

Four pairs of eyes, in perfected unison, glance into the grassy plains where the sun has begun to set.

You do not intend to giggle at the irony, perhaps it is a thing fueled by nerves just as your mother. Yet it floats from your sweet lips like a prayer, slender fingers rushing to suffocate it.

It is undeniably numerous, however. How could it be anything but?

The way your dearest blood all melts at the brim for the gaze of three men whom are only important by cold silver is a thing of great mystery to you, something you do not understand. It is not just mama and Jane and the entirety of your own family however. No, it is all of society. You only wonder what it would be like for a woman to reach beyond the horizon line — to be great. To not be forced upon a man of all creatures to be of true importance.

Mama rushes past, so quickly your hair becomes unruly. She presses her palms firmly against your cheeks — your face piecing together like a swift minnow from the nearby fish pond.

“Oh heavens — if you do even the littlest act so to embarrass me, I am certain to die of great illness. My nerves are far too weak, you must behave for me! Be as sweet Jane is. Sir Plinth’s uncle is of the richest gentleman in Newbury, 5,000 a year! You must converse with him, do it for your dearest mother. Oh! And brush that wild hair from your face, girl. He will think you to be a witch — keep guard at the window.”

Her words are a tangled, knotted mess of all the things you despise. Even whilst tucked away into a place where you do not truly listen, you know well she is asking you to be social for gain of a husband.

You frown, grateful when the headless chicken runs off from you again. Your hand fussses with the wisps rested amongst your forehead — and you obey mama’s orders by sauntering to the creaky old chair that faces the fogged front window.

The fog is a veil, a curtain hiding from you only dread. You are grateful for it now, though it does no good for your locks and tresses. Your eyes dart to the torn book beside you — and you consider disobedience as an alternative to this state. You know well what will happen if you stray, so you do not dare it.

It is an awfully timely and punctual arrival — perhaps ten ticks of the grand, tower clock before the stallion’s snouts peek through the fog. Just as the golden halo sets beyond them.

“Mama!”

You call, but she only waves you away with a busy hand as she continues fussing with the knit table mat. You will not bother it again. You shrink, hiding all but curious eyes behind the lace curtain.

Sejanus is grinning, nervously you think. Then the scowling sister, a small, old creature with a sunken gaze — and the miserable one. They approach, you sink further.

“God Sejanus, smile any more for the poor thing and your pockets will start betraying you.” Grace sneers, voice sewn tightly with disgust at the less fortunate situation your family finds themselves in, glancing around at the quaint, pathetic home. It is as if she believes one breath of hers will cause it to collapse to the soil — to her polished feet.

“Please Grace, she is the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Oh, uncle, her eldest sister is very agreeable as well. Don’t you agree, Snow?”

Oh, he’s asked the cold thing who’s far too proud and rich for a humble party. You’re curious.

“Perfectly tolerable, I suppose. But not pretty enough to tempt me.”

Oh…

Your mischievous, sneaky grin melts into that of a hard line — ample with annoyance. How arrogant of him to say. As if his blonde locks and blue eyes make him any different than the handsome officers that pass by now and then. As if he is some prize. You scowl, Grace’s laugh an unpleasant sound.

Four hard knocks and you are quickly up to your feet.

Mama rushes to you immediately, slapping your hand enough so that it stings greatly and fades the color crimson.

“You were meant to watch! Places, take your stance girls!”

It takes beyond the greatest force to drag your feet to stand beside Jane. Mama checks each forced position anxiously before she tugs the door open wide — with a horrible, eager grin.

“Welcome!”

They trail the moss and dirt onto your oak floors, not bothering to wipe it away on the torn cloth you call a carpet. No need, they believe. The house is pathetic already as it stands. No dirt shall make it any less worthy than it already is.

In unison, a curtsy of greeting becomes all of you. Prim and proper and perfect just as mother groomed you all to be. For preparation of husbands.

Good god, the blonde looks even more dreadful now. Cold eyes darting to the old, harmless hound that chews on a racket ball. He winces at the sight of dust and chipped oak wood furniture surrounding. He looks down upon this place as if it is beneath him.

He far from belongs here.

“Sit, please sit! I’ve already prepared us supper!” Mama practically pushes Sejanus with most nervous palms, and his shadows follow suite.

Though you dream of running through the open door and fading into the mist to never be found again — you obey; sauntering into the archway with tired eyes and reluctant feet.

“My lady…”

Oh.

The short man with bushy brows and coal colored, untamed locks pulls your seat back enough so that you may sit upon it. To your dismay, the miserable one takes place in front of you. His eyes are cast downward to the far from fine silverware laid before him.

“Thank you sir.” You whisper, the chair feeling as though it is determined to suffocate you the longer you sit upon it.

“Oh, Jane — everybody, please meet my uncle, Mr. Casca Highbottom of Bristol.”

You only nod at the grinning old man, and mama rushes back like a midnight breeze through the archway — setting plates filled to the brim with but all of the food left for the entire month. Even so, it remains poor to a gazing eye. Though it matters not how little garnishes the porcelain, for when you catch gaze of miserable Snow pushing his few peas around in disgust, you cannot help but narrow your sight.

How can he be so proud? Certainly, if a humble gathering invited you in for a warm meal in this awful mist — you’d be most grateful for even a singular pea on your plate. Let alone twelve.

Grace laughs at the sight of Snow displeased — placing a soft palm against his knee beneath the cherrywood table. He spares her laugh a glance, and his lip twitches in what appears to be an amused smile. They talk lowly to each other, you notice it from where you peer behind your glass. She must be fond of him what with the way she touches him and leans closer with each word he speaks. You cannot possibly imagine why. Perhaps they are just alike. Rich, rude things.

“So — I dare ask if any suitors captured your heart at the party then?” Grace, she speaks to you now. You snort, ready to offer words of disdain and disgust toward the lot of men and their sweaty palms. Your mother’s cold glare silences you.

“No… they did not.” You mutter in quick defeat.

“Hmm, how dreadful…” it is mock sympathy, noticeable to both you and Jane.

Tension thins to a mere string lacing the table together. Silence blanketing even more so than the mist as worn silverware and mama’s embarsssing tangents erupt in painful harmony. You are grateful for Jane who manages to pry her eyes from Sejanus for a single moment so to save you from mama’s disapproving glare at your silence. She is selling you to the short man, it seems. She has been for the entirety of this meal.

“It is not as though gentlemen do not flock to my dear sister…” Jane starts. “It is simply that she is far too preoccupied with her books to notice them. She is an avid reader, adores her novels you see. She possesses great talents because of it!”

You hoped Jane would be so kind as to avert the attention. Yet it remains stable upon you, the available wife — as cattle with clipped ears. You feel as though you are livestock being powdered and pressed for the market. If the short man is buying, you’d rather be butchered.

He is awkward and stout and his jokes are uncomfortable as they are just rude. He is far from a gentleman and all the reason you deny each hand bestowed to you in the first place. For reason of men like him.

“You write?” Snow inquires.

Those cold, devoid eyes are locked upon you — and despite wishing to send him away to never return so you may be free of his arrogance, you only peer up at his gaze through fanned lashes to see them commanding an answer of you. Awaiting one.

“Occasionally, sir.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, nor does the gaze of Mr. Highbottom, even as he presses a boiled potato to his tongue.

“What of?”

What a silly question, you think. What else would a woman of your age and lack quill about?

It baffles you to find him curious. Perhaps he does not wish to seem obviously rude any more so than he simply is — perhaps he is only creating small talk.

“What else, sir? My thoughts and desires, my ideas. Romance — dramatics…”

“Oh but she just despises poetry!” Mama interjects, as if to end the conversation and refocus it upon your eligibility. Even when she speaks, Snow does not spare her a single glance. His eyes, they still rest upon you.

“You do? I thought poetry to be the food of love.”

You dare a snort then, suffocating a fit of laughter with a spoonful of food. You take your time chewing it, only offering more words when you realize that the conversation does not seem to be at its end. No. It cannot be. Not when he looks at you in a such an expectant manner.

“A poet writes of women in the gaze of all men, which I do not believe to be a true show of adoration. Perhaps it is the food of love — if you want to suffocate it. Stone it till it remains no longer.”

His next words come quick, immediately almost. As if he is grasping at the first chance to reply, much to Highbottom’s dismay whom snaps his mouth shut after losing the opportunity. Every eye in attendance is on the both of you.

Do they think you to be an enigma? You wonder…

“What do you recommend then? To encourage affection between two people…”

You do not know why he asks you this, but you can only assume it is because he wishes to embarrass you. Grace’s sharp gaze morphs into that of an amused smirk. Why would he ask the only woman seated what encourages affection when she cannot obtain it on her own?

You are certain then of his intentions. To mock you in front of Plinth’s sister, his uncle. In front of your blood. He does it so subtlety that if you were not bright as you are — you would most certainly miss it. He is a fool, a great fool because miraculously — you can reciprocate.

“Dancing… even if one’s partner is only tolerable.” You almost sneer with a tilt of your head and raise of your sharp brow.

If something truly clicks within him, it is most quickly dissipated. Most tricky to see. Sejanus clears his throat, and Highbottom — rude creature, erupts into a fit of laughter with a mouthful of food. Your mother is nervous, she joins him.

Grace only gasps, and Jane’s soft features are laced with confusion at the thing only you five are lucky enough to understand.

You remain stoic, challenging his eyes and his tense, twitching jaw with proudness.

“Shall I fetch dessert mama?”

Your mother nods through fits of forced laughter, and you take the opportunity to lift upon your feet. The chair scrapes against the creaky panels and nearly topples as you rush into the quaint kitchen and away from him.

It brings you joy knowing that he has nothing further to say.

You are smiling, terribly overflowed with pride as you place canned, sugared peaches upon ten porcelain plates. How proud he must have felt to speak lowly of you, a girl he spared little words to at a party he refrained from dancing at for it was too poor for his liking.

You disliked him then — but a chat with miss Lucy-Gray Baird while passing by in town confirmed all of your prejudice. She claims to have been treated most coldly by him whilst he was courting her. He offered his hand, then fled into midnight when he grew bored of her. Only the next morning.

He is as any other man is. A heartless hound. His behavior in your small home only further proves your prejudice is with more than enough reason.

You take longer than you should selfishly, and when you return — your gaze locks upon Sejanus who is entirely enamored by the sapphire gaze of Jane.

Mama aids you in placing down the plates you juggle. It is a poor dessert, but one that is most delectable.

“Oh well, your daughter is most precious. Funny, too! How uncommon for women.”

“Oh please uncle, we all have our wit. She is just peculiar, I daresay.”

Mama laughs at Grace’s words, and you only offer a polite, tense smile before being seated once again. It is you now that pushes your food around your plate, fading into the mist truly as you remain silent.

They speak of things you care the least bit for — all irrelevant matters to your mind. You are grateful when wine is poured, you nearly inhale it and garner a slap on your hand once again from mama.

You need it to get thought this.

Highbottom and mama speak of you, she tells him lies. How much you wish to be wed, how eager you are to find a lover. All contradictions of Jane’s earlier lick of truth. The rich fool believes her, his eyes cast upon you like poisonous darts. Slowly suffocating you.

Sejanus is preoccupied entirely by Jane — and the miserable one chats lowly with the scowling sister.

“Well, how about some music and dance? Lizzie, off to the piano!”

Your youngest sister lifts — eager to press her hands against the keys. It will be a mediocre melody but one that offers enough sound so to dance. You wish to stay glued to the table as they leave you to the living space — but mama tugs at your braid harshly, you have no choice other than obedience.

Sejanus kindly offers Jane a hand — and you feel as though you will just sink entirely into the floor as Highbottom approaches. Your heel turns you swift as you try and find even a small bit of space in this little home.

A navy vest with a crimson rose tucked into its pocket cages your escape. You never thought to see the day you’d be grateful for the cold blonde who cuts in front. You nearly collide with him.

“Dance with me.” He commands.

How baffling…

You do not notice the tension settled within your features until your brows ease in confusion. Your chin is pointed upwards — enough so that he can be equal to your gaze.

“Are you asking this of me — or ordering sir?”

His jaw ticks once more, but he does not follow up with any more words. The cleared throat of the short man behind you is enough reason to pick the far less uncomfortable poison. You’d rather be fueled by annoyance as opposed to discomfort and dread. One dance is all.

“Fine.” You mutter, sealing your fate and betraying your swear to be far away from the man whom you loathe entirely.

He is a pale thing up close. Birth marks kissing silken skin, soft as the moss kissing your shoes. You are grateful that this dance does not require touch — only the occasional closeness.

You follow him to where Sejanus and Jane stand — his head nearly reaches your ceiling. His palm hovers over yours, eyes downcast on your pretty features. Grace is scowling, again.

Your fingers twitch as Lizzie begins the sonnet, and you follow his lead.

It surprises you greatly, how well he dances. Though his mouth is a hard line, and his eyes are like round lumps of charred coal. He is noiseless.

“Are we to dance in dread and silence, Mr. Snow? I dare comment on this awful weather, now you may follow with a remark about the food. How much you despised it.”

You catch a glimpse of him, a suppressed twitch of his lips. As if the words offended him. Maybe amused him. You step forward and then back, frayed skirt floating against the movement. He follows suite.

“I could comment on how you dance. I am happy to inform you it is more tasteful than how you cook. Please do advise me on what more you want me to say to you.”

You stumble by his words — and his eyes dart to your clumsy feet. They are stable soon enough, circling him like a shark in vicious waters. His words upset you.

“Mama and Jane prepared the meal. I only prepared the peaches; but I do believe that if a family was kind enough to welcome an abrupt attendance with a warm meal — I would not be so complacent about its contents. You see — we are not all so fortunate to have garnered inheritance, Mr. Snow.” A cold melody, but one he would be a fool to ignore. It is all true.

Now it is him that halts. He steps forward, dipping his head low. Your eyes wander to his gloved palm — it clenches then flexes outward; all evidence of his annoyance with your words.

There you both stand, Sejanus and Jane alongside the twins, mama and Highbottom swirling around you. You do not know where Grace lurks.

You both are still, he stands a tower above you. His eyes pour heat into your own, admonishing you — offended with your words. It is as if the room is only filled with the two of you, the lace of connection between you just your anger. Even in your short time being familiar, it is strong.

“Do you imply that my inheritance is all the reason for my success?” He forces through clenched — perfect teeth.

“Perhaps I do sir, miss Baird of Newbury certainly agree—”

The hand that lays against your side is snatched into his own. He squeezes it tight now, eyes wide and swimming with disapproval and frustration. It has been resting at the surface, but bound to crack.

“Oh I’m certain she does. I am sure she told you the many tales of her troubles and woes brought upon by her time spent with me. You won’t speak to her again.”

It is you that steps forward now, so laced with upset that you do not notice your poor and worn shoes are stepping upon his tip toes. Up upon the rich and shined leather. Your chin is pointed upward, your stance tense.

“You command me as if I am wed to you sir, but I am not. You have come here, unannounced and unhappy with your humble plate as if we are all but a quaint inn with poor maids. Just because we gather little and obscure and we do not have pockets as generous and full as yours does not make us beneath you, Mr. Snow.”

The music halts, and your eyes shift quickly to find a concerned Jane gazing on — alongside your horrified mother. How crazed you both must look now. Stepping upon his toes with palms clasped — anger and upset becoming you both.

You release his gloved hand and part your soft lips to dismiss yourself — yet a strike of lightning cracking from above the grayed sky is a gift given, a distraction from beyond. Yet alongside it? A curse.

The horses startle, lifting to their hind legs before running far and fast with the carriage. Grace cries out from where she sulked in the shadows, and Sejanus alongside his uncle run after the wild beasts. Your sisters and mama follow.

“What are we to do!?”

“Grace, please be calm. We will fetch them.”

“We cannot travel in these conditions, boy.”

“You may rest here!”

Dread is a serpent that wraps tight round your throat — making the pounding of your heart halt entirely.

It is all a blur, but by the end of the lively conversation it is decided. They will stay. They will all stay. You bow your head, crossing your arms round the beating at your chest so to protect it.

“Excuse me.” You whisper, so low it is taken with the breeze from the open door before rushing up your dilapidated steps; knowing full well that the hospitality offered by mama, selfish reasoning or not, is the last thing a man like Mr. Snow deserves…

#young snow #young snow x reader #young snow smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus smut #corio snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n #sejanus plinth #sejanus imagine #coriolanus x sejanus #au!coriolanus snow #au!snow #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blythe #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus x oc

[kakujis]

do you love me? 2;

synposis: they wake you up at 3am to ask if you love them. pt 1 here. 3 + 4

warnings: gn!reader, clingy bfs, no set timeline, kazutora's is a lil sad, insecurities, implications of cheating(there is none tho). not proofread!

feat: kakucho, kazutora, izana.

a/n: after i wrote the first part, i wanted to do the same thing but switched! this is the most flowery, fluttery, butterflies searching for a drink type beat drabble i've ever written. i haven't written like this in a while soo i hope it makes sense lol. the tone of kaku's is a lil different because i started his first oops! also big ty to @fuyuluvr for helping me finish izana's bit. ♡

kakucho had never once doubted you, not when you’ve told him he’s the sun and the moon and the reason why the stars gather in the night sky, cheesy words always getting a hot blush on his face. how could he, when you’ve barreled through the doors of your shared apartment to jump into his waiting arms, peppering kisses along his jaw, whines of “i missed you! i missed you!”. 

but it’s hard lately when he finds you and rindou with hushed voices at the gym, sitting on a bench, sheepish grins on your faces when he approaches to ask what the two of you have been talking about. 

“nothing!” you exclaimed, slipping your phone back into your pocket, scooting farther from the blonde beside you. “i’m gonna head out okay? i’ll see you later.” you exchanged one more glance with rin who nodded to you. kakucho remembers the surprised look on your face, when he pulled you into a particularly tight hug pressing his lips to your forehead, “see you at home,” you said, eyes softened before breaking free and walking out. 

he tried his best to not pry throughout his workout, tried his best to not get angry when rindou asked, “you alright?” when he noticed the particularly quick responses that kakucho was throwing at him. 

“yeah, i’m fine.” he assured, fighting the urge to accuse his friend of anything nefarious. but man was it hard with this little nail in his heart hammering away at his insecurities and worst fears. maybe it was time to take izana’s advice and “just ask them about it.” 

and that’s how he ended up here, sitting awake at 3am listening to the tick of a clock. even in your sleep you clung on to him, drooling and snoring on his arm. 

gently, he reaches over to shake your shoulder. the shift made you cling harder, eliciting a whine from your sleepy state. kakucho chuckles, before he shakes a little bit harder, already feeling a little silly at his concerns. 

“you awake yet?” he asks when you finally start to blink your eyes and glance up at him. 

“hi,” you yawn, using your hand to wipe at your drool, “what time is it?” you prop yourself up, squinting at the clock on the wall. 

“like 3am.” he says, unable to hold back the smile on his face as he studies your sleepy expression.  

“hmm? why are we awake then?” you yawn again, droopy lids starting to fall again, but kakucho stops you before you’re able to fall asleep. 

“wait,” he mutters, pulling you up so that you’re pressed against his chest and facing him. he places his hands on the sides of your cheeks, staring straight into your drowsy eyes. “do you love me?” 

the question catches you off guard, you’ve never seen him so serious before. there’s a crease in his brow and his heterochromatic eyes hold something like worry, something that’s scared, as if you’d say no. 

you blink off the sleep that once riddled your bones before scowling, “kaku.. what kinda question is that? of course i love you.” you assert, squirming until you’re straddling him. you place your hands on top of his own, prying one down to lace with your fingers. “why?” 

he looks away, burning under your gaze, “it’s nothin’,” he mumbles, dropping his other hand from your face. but since you’re fully awake now, the haze of sleep gone, you catch on fast, the wheels in your head rewinding back to earlier that day at the gym.

“ohh,” you hum, removing your hand from his and cupping his face this time so that he’ll look at you. “is this because of earlier? with rindou?” 

“maybe..” he says, eyes darting away from yours, “it’s just weird you don’t want me to hear what you two are talking about and it’s also not the first time so...” 

you sigh, climbing off of him and reaching over to the nightstand on your side of the bed to grab your phone. settling back next to him, you unlock the screen and click on your messages. you wiggle your phone at him adding, “i’ve got nothing to hide, see?” before you open the texts with rindou:

y/n: HEY

rindou 🙄: hi

y/n: IS PROJECT KAKUCHO STILL A GO??

rindou 🙄: project kakucho??? 

y/n: dont tell me u forgot… his birthday is coming up!!!

the conversation continues with the plans the two of you had made specifically for kakucho’s birthday, the venue, the people invited, what kind of cake you should get, etc. you scroll slowly, periodically glancing up at your boyfriend as the blush on his face deepens. probably from a mixture of embarrassment and the way every mention of his name has some type of adjective describing how cute he is. 

“see? i wanted to surprise you.” you say, beginning to hand the phone over, “you can scroll up even earlier if you want.” 

“no, i trust you…” he says before taking your phone and putting it down on the nightstand. “sorry, that was sort of stupid of me.” honestly, he had completely forgotten about the occasion, it was just another day for him. 

you shake your head, “well.. i can’t blame you. if i’m thinking about it from your perspective, i’d probably be a little suspicious too.” 

he blinks, caught off guard by the way you agreed without a hint of sarcasm. “really?” 

you nod, “yup… especially if i didn’t trust my partner, cmon now! rindou?” you tease and he groans out another “sorry.” 

“couldn’t you have thought i had a crush on one of your cute friends?” you scoff, crossing your arms. 

“rindou is cute though.” he says quickly and matter of fact, not really processing what he’s just said. 

“huh?”

“he’s… y’know, he’s good looking.” he repeats, gesturing with his hands and glancing down at you. your face is unreadable as you take in the information, those little gears in your head turning again. 

“hm. well, if he’s so good looking then you should totally date him.” you joke, trying your best to keep a straight face. 

“that’s not what i meant!” kakucho exclaims, running his hands down his face and you laugh. 

“gimme my phone, i’ll set you up.♡” you chime, holding your hand out. “besides i think he’s into you too! totally checks you out at the gym.” 

“can you stop?!” 

kazutora: 

kazutora has an annoying little habit, where he doubts if you really love him, which culminates in late night questioning. you’ve assured him many times before that you don’t mind, you’ll tell him as many times as he wants and you’ll reassure him whenever he’s doubtful, but he hates it. this little worm of insecurity that digs its way through his stomach, his chest, until it makes it up into his brain, shaking and bouncing off it’s walls until he can’t take it anymore. 

he hates this feeling, more so because he knows it’s stupid, he knows there’s no reason for it, there’s never been any indication for it and yet, he still cries or lashes out because of it. like maybe he's not that good of a person, maybe he's not what you need, and maybe he'll never be enough. what better time for insecurity to sink it’s fangs in than the dead of night? 

he rolls over, cheek squished against the pillow. reaching over to quickly pull you closer to him, back against his chest. you shift a little, rousing out of sleep, tilting your head up towards his with a little curl of a smile. it’s so easy to read him now and pick up on his mood changes, but you think nothing negative, instead feeling warm that sometimes he’s so vulnerable with you, searching for his security like a child looking for their favorite blanket. 

“hi tora,” you mumble, voice heavily laced with sleep, “what’s wrong baby?” he doesn’t answer at first, the only response to you being an even tighter squeeze under his muscled arms. you respond back, wriggling under his touch, pressing so far into him it’s as if the two of you are trying to mold together and become one. 

“do you love me?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. 

“i’ve never loved anything more,” you proclaim and kazutora gives a little needy whine while his hands start to wander up the expanse of your skin and you giggle as his touch tickles you under the sheets. 

“you’d pick me every time?” he asks, the heaviness in his heart lightening with each breathy giggle of “that tickles!” but it’s his way of comforting himself, whether it’s running his hands over your bare skin or inserting them into your jacket pockets while he holds you from behind, kazutora finds solace in the warmth of your body. 

“mhm! every time, without a doubt! now stop!” you say in between laughs, desperately trying to push his hands off of you but he’s stronger, hands curling into the plush fat of your side and you yelp. “toraa!” 

“hmm?” he teases, continuing his relentless assault. but the way you’re kicking and squirming has his hold on you weakening. you’re unable to fully control your movement, thrashing as your elbow flies back, hitting him right in the stomach. “ow, fuck!” he groans, releasing you and rolling over. he grimaces as he places a hand where you hit him, curling inwardly on himself. 

out of breath, you roll onto your knees, sitting up while you scoot closer to him. one hand rests on your side, aching from your previous uncontrollable laughter. 

“not my fault.” you pant when he glances up at you with puppy dog eyes. “i told you to stop.” you roll your eyes at him, but the pout gracing his face persists and you give in. you bend over, brushing away stray blonde locks from his face before you bend down and give him a kiss. “sorry.” 

“s’okay,” he grins, eyes crinkling as he pulls you back down into his embrace. there’s a few minutes of silence, the only noise being the occasional swivel of fabric underneath your feet as readjust every so often. “you really meant it, right?” he asks, breaking through the silence, that pesky little worm still rearing it’s ugly head in his thoughts.

“every word.” you reply, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. you place a finger on his lips as you continue, hoping to dispel the rest of his worries. “in any dimension, in any lifetime. if i could live a thousand lives, i’d pick you every time.” 

he blinks before he’s pushing your head down to rest on his chest. there’s no vocal response, instead only the tremble of his body as his grip on you turns crushing, one hand’s fingers intertwined with the tresses of your hair. you realize now that it was due to his embarrassment, a silent plea to just this once, not look at him as his relief spills out as fat, droplet tears that run down his face and onto yours. but it’s okay, you’ve always embraced the rain. 

izana:

izana thinks its insane every time you pull at the that strings that hold together his weary heart. but you pluck at them with each call of his name that rolls off your tongue like a siren call, entrancing and pulling him towards you and only you. with those vibrations he seeks you like a moth to a flame, fluttering towards your light and basking in the glow. 

heavy and sluggish, he trudges up the stairs to your shared apartment inwardly cursing about how late it is. the plan is to take a shower and get in bed as quietly and quickly as possible. you’re definitely asleep by now, so he tries his best to enter silently, not wanting to wake you. but as he tiptoes into your bedroom, the sight of you asleep huddled under the covers as you hug izana’s pillow has him falling onto the bed, gently taking the pillow from your arms and replacing it with himself. 

you scrunch your face as you awaken, heavy lidded eyes blinking and adjusting to the blurry image of izana before you. pretty lavender eyes watch you with a small upturned grin that grows wider at your, “mm?” the chirrup of your voice like the birdsongs in the morning. izana thinks you’re the prettiest melody, better than any song on the radio or classical composition. 

“good morning.” he says and you tilt your head quizzically, squinting at the alarm clock on your nightstand, the lull of sleep still beckoning you over. 

“it’s 3am, zana,” you whine when you read the red blink of numbers, trying to roll over but he holds you still, arms wrapped around your hips. 

he shrugs, a smirk on his face. “and?” 

“and i was sleeping.” you mumble, irritation lacing through your voice before frowning and closing your eyes. 

the quirk of his grin falls, settling into a line, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. he knows he came home late and he knows it’s probably annoying to be woken up, yet he was hoping you’d still be excited to see him, to be with him.

“do you love me?” he asks, knowing it’s a dumb question. your reaction is normal, but being around you makes him feel abnormal, and he’s so greedy for everything you’ve got. he thinks you’ll reprimand him again for keeping you awake, but instead you hum when he starts to caress your face, the pad of his thumb running over your skin in airy strokes.

“mhm. i love, love you.” you reply, happily keening up into his touch, pressing your cheek further into his hand. 

“say it again,” he says and you open one eye, quirking an eyebrow. you almost say, “really?” but the insecurity dancing in his eyes stops you and you comply.

“i love you.” you say again, a little louder this time. 

“again.” he commands.

“izana..” you huff. you know him, this could go on for hours if you gave in. 

“just one more time, please?” he pleads hanging onto his last word. he’s never told you, but this is his favorite song, the kind that always gets stuck on replay in his head. the one that he puts on to comfort him when the outside noise of daily life is a little too loud. 

“i love you.” you sigh, conceding and punctuating it with a quick peck on his lips and he grins. “happy now?” 

he nods, “i’ll never get tired of hearing that.” he presses a kiss to your cheek, letting you settle back into a more comfortable position. you lay with your back to his chest, as he cages you from behind. “now get some sleep, its late.” 

you’re quick to look back at him, eye brow raised in disbelief.  “you’re literally the one who woke me up?” 

“shh, that doesn’t matter, just go to sleep.” 

“but-“ 

“good night, love.” he interrupts, thinking that he should record it the next time you sing him such a pretty number. 

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #kakucho #kakucho x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora hanemiya x reader #izana kurokawa #izana kurokawa x reader #pibby writing #this was totally not self indulgent (it was)

[virgolixx]

Hey can I have some angst with Sanji and Ace being given news of their S/O being killed in a fight and then later on finding the S/O alive and asleep healing from their wounds

Head Cannon:

:How would these One piece men react when given the news of their S/O’s death to later finding out they are alive and recovering in their sleep:

Sanji, Ace

Theme: Angst💀

⚠️Warnings: Mentions of death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji:

Sanji is completely and utterly shocked when Zoro tells him with a face laced with guilt and sadness, that you have been killed and thrown over a cliff.

Angry that Zoro might be pulling some sick joke on him, he shakes him harshly and yells at him to cut the crap. Turning to Nami Sanji yells to tell him that it’s not true. Once the fear start to set in Sanji yells for you.

Until realizing you’re actually gone, Sanji falls to his knees sobbing uncontrollably. Chopper, Nico and Usopp are trying to console Sanji, while the others have tears as well.

What do you mean you’re gone? The person he planned his entire future with, how you both would get married, start a family one day, to spending the of your lives together.

Sanji would loose him self entirely, he would lose his interest to keep himself presentable, he would barely sleep at all. Sanji would cook all your favorite meals to make it seem as if you were still with the crew, with him.

It’s been a week, and entire week since your passing, the crew have been in mourning that they haven’t set sail yet, but with not being in the mood for parties, the villagers simply left the straw hats gifts as gratitude for freeing them from the bandits.

The sun was starting to set, tomorrow afternoon the straw hats set sail. Not feeling any appetite for food Sanji is on the ships deck smoking, watching as the sun sets. Looking down Sanji felt tears fall. Until he heard a older woman calling for him.

From the panic of searching for someone, the older woman calms down a bit when realizing she’s found the straw hat pirates. The older woman tells Sanji about the young woman she’s found injured when she was out gathering herbs.

Shocked Sanji runs to the crew and drags them out to the older lady, leaving at once in anticipation to reach the older lady’s secluded house in the forest.

Once reaching your side, Sanji is holding you hand while giving it kisses as tears are falling from his eyes. Chopper is checking you for good measure and tells Sanji you’ll be perfectly fine and just need rest. While the others are crying tears of joy that you are safe and alive.

Once composed Sanji makes a feast in the old lady’s home as a way to show his gratitude that she took care of you, his love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace:

Ace is numb, his entire world has slowed, more like froze. Marco is the one who showed ace the news paper of your “death”. How those battle events brought you and luffy (plus his crew) together to fight those snobbish nobles to free the slaves.

If it were under different circumstances Ace would have loved that you and luffy have met, to see his two favorite people in the whole world talking and getting to know each other .

Once his emotions hit him, he falls to the floor balling his eyes out as he yells your name, as the others are crying them selves, white beards kneels before Ace and engulfs him in a hug.

Ace would loose him self, he’d loose his appetite to eat, he would also drink quite a lot and barely sleep. Ace would spend most of his nights on the tallest mast of the Moby Dick just watching the starry night.

It’s been a month, and it’s been so fucking hard for ace to heal, yes he’s eating now but he misses your warmth as you laid beside him in bed. Craves for your touch, to hear your voice. He honestly just can’t seem to sleep anymore.

It’s about to be 12 pm and the Thousand Sunny sails up beside the anchored Moby Dick, laughing happily luffy greets the pirates as he raised your vivre card up in the air. Talking to white beard luffy shows your vivre card, with your special signature that only white beard and ace know about.

Extremely hopeful to see your card entact white beard and the rest of his crew listen as Robin explains what happened when you and the straw hat pirates saved the slaves, how you go seriously injured because you blocked any attacks directed to the slaves.

Though with much effort Chopper saved your live and you have been in a short coma over the month with only recently waking the day before. The pirates all call up at ace in a happy cry, lost in thought Ace ignores everyone’s voice even his own brother’s yelling, only does he react once he hears a specific voice.

Your voice. You call for him looking up at him with your arms extended out with tears falling from your eyes, just as he looks down at you with wide eyes. In a frenzy Ace rushes over to your side and engulfs you in a tight hug his face in the crook of your neck taking in your warmth and scent.

The rest of the crew have tears of joy in their eyes, and you hear white beard welcoming you back home, for the rest of the day white beard has ordered a feast in honor of the straw hats for saving your life and for bringing you home.

All the while ace has been glued to your side holding you as you ate and happily spoke to luffy.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece strawhats #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #one piece whitebeard pirates #one piece ace #vinsmoke sanji #portgas d ace #ace x reader #one piece fanfiction #black leg sanji #fire fist ace

[neocentral]

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: noncon, public sex, intoxicated!jaemin x reader

jaemin wasn't supposed to be drinking tonight, but he had begun before you even had the chance to greet all your friends. the night was somewhat of a blur, with brief flashes of shot glasses, bright smiles, and equally bright laughter. not to mention a sloppy jaemin.

he was stumbling over his feet, raising his voice, and making a mess of things. he was also rough, crashing his lips against yours as he begged for you. quick, he drawled. angel, it'll be so quick. you shoved him off of you, annoyance amplified by the alcohol in your system as you looked at him. his eyes were unfocused, pupils dilated as he slowly blinked. a pink color flooded his neck and crept up to his ears, dusting over his cheeks.

you were quick to bid your friends goodbye, afraid of what could happen if you didn't get your boyfriend home as soon as possible. it proved to be a difficult task, jaemin's weight slowing you down, and his strong arms pulling you to a stop as he repeatedly tried to kiss you, hands ghosting over your ass. jaemin, you hissed, relieved to see the train come to a stop, wait.

you were stupid to think that that would stop him.

"fuck," jaemin slurs, a pungent smell laced in his breath making you wrinkle your nose. "you really thought i was gonna wait? hm?" you whimper at a pointed thrust, feeling your legs tremble as you struggle to hold yourself up, the metal pole and jaemin's arms keeping you from dropping to the ground.

your breath skips as you glance upwards, eyes brimming with tears. you're met with the sight of men, some not much older than you, and others two -- three -- times your age, all with their hands shoved down the front of their pants and stares fixed on your body. your panties are lowered to your knees, thighs spread just enough to see jaemin's balls swinging between them and the involuntary arousal dripping down your thighs with each wet thrust. you shiver, looking away as jaemin continues pounding into you, a strong scent of alcohol and sweat emanating from behind you as he tries to keep a steady pace.

"was waiting all night," he grunts, curling his fist around the same metal pole you tightly held onto. "so just ignore them," jaemin's tongue flicks the shell of your ear, "m'almost done anyway." you fight the urge to scream hating the tone of his drawled voice.

you squeeze the pole, attempting to ignore the way your fist craves to meet his face. you stopped fighting long ago, somehow more fearful of what might happen if you pulled yourself away from his grasp, leaving yourself vulnerable in front of so many people. you knew nothing good would come from it, especially with their actions becoming bolder. a tipsy girl who could barely stand, skimpy top askew and skirt bunched at her waist. they looked like they were ready to take jaemin's place in a flash.

you blew out an unsteady breath, blinking to set drops of tears free. your boyfriend grunts behind you, burying himself deep inside you while tugging you closer by your sore hips. jaemin's body was scorching, making you want to flinch away from his touch, but as you met a set of unfamiliar preying eyes, you knew you had no choice.

#tw noncon #starring... jaemin ! #screenplay… #[NEO] play… #[bookmark…] #jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #nct smut #nct hard hours #nct dream smut #nct x reader #nct dream #nct #jaemin

[writingoddess1125]

I am your Biggest Fan~ Pt. 2

WARNINGS: NON-Con, $mut, Face-Fuck, Spit as Lube, Hair Pulling, Dom!Buggy, Unprotected sex, DEAD-DOVE, Tsundare Buggy

Dirty Nasty $mut is below. Be warned ⚠️

I may have went overboard with the length- Also my first time writing $mut! Please tell me how I did and what you'd like to see next!

Buggy the Clown x GN Reader

Part 1: Biggest Fan Pt. 1

Buggy grinned as he stared down at (Y/N) keeping barely any space between the two of them as he bit up and down their neck. Listening to the mild hisses in pain and whimpers of fear- It was too sexy for him and made him want more.

"Captian!" A loud voice sounded making he growl and turn to see Cabaji. Holding his blades with some blood smeared on his face and costume.

"What do you want!?" Buggy Hissed in irritation.

"Sir, We have almost finished with the village. The Marines are sure to be informed" Ah right- this was a small village it wouldn't haven't taken long to pillage the place.

Buggy opened his mouth to speak but ended up getting a hard hit to his mouth as (Y/N) Slipped under his arms and tried to run. Buggy grabbing them by their hair with lightning fast reflexes yanking them back towards him- ignoring their cry for pain. Buggy growled at this as he glared down at (Y/N) before sighing-

"We set sail then, Get a move on!

He yelled at his first mate who nodded and dashed away to echo orders. Buggy gave a low chuckle at the performer, gripping their hair harder.

"Ill let you get that one for free since youre so damn cute Doll~ But looks like we are gonna have to rush our little act back to the Red Top~!"

He said cheerfully, her personality like a rubber ball constantly changing as he harshly flung them to the floor. Watching them trying to scramble for a quick second before he placed his boot on their back to pin them before looking around to for something to restrain them with. His eyes landing on the satin ribbons from the show. Snatching them quickly.

"Oh don't you love the irony~"

He grinned as he overpowered them with ease and tied the satin ribbons tightly around their hands and ankles.

"Let me go! YOU CANT DONT THIS YOU DIRTY PIR- MMHPH!"

They squealed as he shoved one of their lace fabrics into their mouth. Smirking at the sight and fluffing himself as a job well done. Quickly at the sound of the fire he grabbed the performer and tossed them over his shoulder, making sure to give their exposed ass a nice hard smack. Which earned him a angry squeal, before he took off.

Running out of the blood soaked bar and to the streets- It looked like what sidewalks in hell must. Blood, broken glass, fire and bodies- bodies of those who wouldn't be able to handle the long road of the show biz or audience left like animals on the street. (Y/N) screams muffled through the lace gag as they witnessed the carnage. Buggy laughing maniacally as he ran through those streets, sliding in the blood comically like this was another one of his performances. Seeing his crew rip the jewelry from the necks of people before either killing them or tightening harsh shackles to them.

Buggy skipped down the street till he reached his ship, Watching the new group of audience members being herded in like cattle to their final resting spots their seats. (Y/N) at this point sobbing as they were hauled away from the horror down to the Captian's room and tossed roughly on the large bed.

"Whoo! Just what I needed to get my Mojo back in seemed- Really got a full house this time!~"

He laughed, Taking off his hat and kicking his bloody boots off. Looking to (Y/N) and their pathetic form on his bed, shaking and with tears running down their cheeks

"Awww~ Baby No, No crying. I wanted to run that mascara a different way... tsk.. So messy"

The Captian grumbled, Grabbing his own little makeup bag and a hanky. He smiled down at them as he crawled towards them on the bed, Sitting before them making sure they were pinned with his legs as he chuckled at the sight of them under him. 'So cute'

He hummed as he wiped their tears away before opening the makeup bag.

"Now if you keep crying, I'm gonna have to keep doing your makeup all over again! And that's really gonna piss me off- So lets stop thay crying~"

Buggy said the last part darkly, (Y/N) staring up at Jim with pure terror as he smirked at the sight but nodded shakily. Sniffling through the lace gag as they tried to stop the tears from flowing.

"Good~ Very good sweetheart"

Carefully he reapplied the mascara and touched up the eyeshadow with what he owned which wasn't much. He pulled the lace gag from their lips and held their cheeks tightly with one hand and a firm grip

"Now stay still for this~"

He hummed, pulling out his favorite red and painted their lips perfectly. A wide grin playing as he saw his finished work, Placing another love bite to his newest toys neck but this time sinking deeper then before making (Y/N) cry out in pain as he broke skin. Pulling back to lick the blood from his teeth as he saw the mark.

"P-Please let me go- I don-"

He grabbed their face again (Y/N) flinching from his touch as he reached forward to fix their hair so they looked perfect.

"I-I don't want this- Please let me go- I'm begging"

Buggy almost rolled his eyes- if it wasn't for how adorable they were he would have slit their throat for how pathetic they sounded.

"Listen, Just so we are clear~ I am letting you live as MY plaything it's either this or I slit your throat and throw you overboard and I reeaalllyyy like you so I'd rather not waste such a pretty face"

He said with a smirk, watching the gears in the performers face as they realized the situation they were in. Giggling at the sight of realizing they didn't really have a choice, which was perfect. Reaching down to pull at the ankle restraints, tossing one peice of the satin ribbons to the side. However keeping the wrist one.

"Now nod if you understand-"

(Y/N) left their stomach sink- This was it... they either be this manic clowns play toy or end up like the poor villagers- in those shackles or worse.. They nodded shakily, Trying to hold back the want of breaking into sobs. Buggy clapped his hand happily and smiled brightly, those watercolor eyes swimming with pure joy at them understanding and in his mind agreeing- He kisses their cheek at this like a mock lovers and ran his hands down their form with a excited glee.

"You're perfect, I knew you were from the moment I laid eyes on you- So pretty and talented. And best of all you haven't even stared at my nose! I hate it when people do that, yet you never did... My name is Buggy.. Captian Buggy. I wanna hear you say it-"

He said happily, locking eyes with them again with his twisted smile. A unnatural yet beautiful smile on his lips as he stared at them.

"B-Buggy.. Captian Buggy"

They whispered back which earned another kiss to the cheek. His eyes racking their form as they sat there, one pasty on their chest, the remains of their costume with the added satin ribbons. He couldn't help but get aroused by their appearance again, chuckling darkly as he stared at them. Without saying a word he grabbed them roughly by the shoulders and pulled them off the bed, Setting them on their knees as he sat infront of.

(Y/N) Looked up at him with wide eyes, noticing the large tenting in his pants as he sat infront of her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted.. Buggy chuckled as he admired (Y/N) for a moment longer before undoing his pants- Cackling as his as his cock sprung out of his pants like a spring.

"Pop Goes the Weasal~!"

Buggy cock like the rest of him was large and unruly, the head a deep pink with a base of deep blue curls. (Y/N) looked up at Buggy again, seeing him smirking at their expression of seeing this part of him.

"Don't be shy now~"

(Y/N) nodded softly, giving a small tug on the restraints for a second of hope however there was no give so that was that- Leaning forward they parted their lips and took Buggy fully into their mouth.

Their nose brushing against the unkempt blue curls as they carefully ran their tongue over the organ. Buggy grumbling out gentle moans as he stared down at them, his pupils blown up with desire as he watched them. Laying kitten licks down his cock and coming back up to gently suck on the tip of his cock, While it felt delightful Buggy was greedy and of course- Wanted more~

Grabbing their hair harshly and smiling as he slammed them down fully on his dick, feeling them squeak and gag in shock. Setting his own pace as he roughly forced their head to bob at unnatural speeds, Moaning out roughly as he did so. His hips starting to thrust into (Y/N) mouth, enjoying the sound of the mild gagging and noises escaping (Y/N).

He looked down and saw with joy the beautiful mess he had created- (Y/N) face was red with tears, messy mascara running down their cheeks and their hair a tangled mess in his gloved hands- But it was their mouth. Oh those dirty lips wrapped around his cock staining it red with lipstick that damn near made his cum right then and there.

Yanking them off his dick he watched them struggle to catch their breath, a delicate mix of his precum laying on their tongue and mix. While (Y/N) looked up at him with those watery eyes that made him burn. In his eyes they looked like a masterpiece.

"Fuck~ I don't think I can last long with you looking like that~ Guess we gotta rush the performance Baby!~"

He cackled as he quickly pulled them up to their feet by their hair smiling at the sob that broke through them. Quickly he pushed bent them over the mattress, Smirking as he made sure to tighten the satin wrist restraints and smiled.

(Y/N) panted hard, they felt their face pressed into the plush bedding of the mattress and their eyes widened as the peices started to fall into place. Glancing back as they saw Buggy undoing his shirt fully and Tossing it to the side, As well as taking off the bandana that held his hair up. Letting it fall lose down his back with a relaxed sigh before meeting the gaze of (Y/N) again with a crooked smile.

Like the survival instincts kicked back in they scrambled against the bed trying to squirm away and kicked their legs wildly. Buggy cackled and presses his lower half against their ass essentially pinning them- Using his legs to trap their own against the wooden bed frame.

"N-NO! Wait-t!"

They sobbed out but Buggy was quick in grabbing their hair again and yanking their head back.

"Now Now Now let's not make a fuss!~ I do think we've already crossed the line of no return"

He said with a laugh, using his free hand to grab their ass and pulled to give himself a nice view an access. Forgetting he hadn't removed the thong from them yet- however no matter!~ he used his thumb to move the fabric aside and grinned, 'So smart!' Ignoring the squirming from the performer begging and trying to escape he spit at the open hole before him with a grin before positioning himself.

"Good enough~"

Purring as he started to inch his way in. (Y/N) choked back a cry as they left him inch his way in, He was too large- Unfairly so! It felt like they were being split in half. That toe curling pain that borders on pleasure shot through their body as air seemed to evade their lungs.

"That's it... Fuck"

Buggy growled out from above them, Grunting as he slammed the last of himself into them having grown inpatient to wait anymore. His hands left their hair, instead positioning themselves on their hips, feeling the dig of his gloved hands into the soft bruised flesh. With barely any time to fully adjust he started to move-

A deep growl rumbled through his chest as he started to speed up the time of his thrust, (Y/N) felt hot like liquid fire was being drawed from their core from the forced pleasure pulling our rugged breathless moans as if they had been made for that sole purpose. A broken chores of moans and groans leaving their bruised lips at Buggys ruthless pace, Buggy moaned out loudly as he felt them tightening around him his hips starting to shudder.

(Y/N) babbling out incoherent moans and whimpers at the harshness of the thrust and the feeling of a orgasm so close to breaking through them.

"F-Fuck Fuck!"

He roared out, Slamming himself harder into them with a thundering speed. Pressing his chest against their back as he panted in their ear, his blue locks edged with sweat sticking to his forehead and fanning around (Y/N) as they screamed out moans- fresh tears running down their cheeks staining the mattress below as a forced orgasm ripped through their form- their body quaking from the force of the orgasm that shot through their body- Buggy grunting loudly as he slammed himself into them fully and came.

Buggy panted hard afterwards, Releasing their bruised hip and pushing how blue locks from his face. A series of panted curses leaving his lips as he pulled out of (Y/N) marveling at the damage he had done. Seeing them limp and barely functioning he scooped them up and placed them fully on the bed, Spreading their ass again to marvel at his claim.

(Y/N) laid there panting, The ache between their legs making it impossible to get comforble especially with Buggy's rough fingers rubbing against their abused hole. The world started to fade to black from the exhaustion from the day but Buggy's voice echoed around them with his twisted chuckle.

"I can't wait for tomorrow's show (Y/N)~"

Tag List-

@honey-eyed-munson

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #captain buggy #x reader #one peice x reader #one peice live action #one peice #buggy one piece #gn reader #dead dove fic

[scarletwidowsbaby]

Lover's Quarrel

Summary: A simple few happenstances lead you to two very special women.

Pairings: Omega!Fem!R x Alphas!WandaNat

Genre: Angst, sprinkles of WandaNat fluff.

Warnings: ABO dynamics but no smut. Reader seems a bit depressed.

A/N: This is my first attempt at ABO so pls be nice :)

*credit to owners*

You still struggled to be normal around the brightness of the day. Normally, you’d be holed up in an ex-HYDRA safehouse and hide away from the sun before you would do what you needed, but you were running low on supplies and needed them, now. 

What am I talking about? Oh, sorry, you’re still new here.

You, Y/N Stellaluna Romana, grew up in HYDRA. You don’t remember much of your parents, except for the fact that they sold you for protection. You jumped between what you now know to be HYDRA and the Red Room, but the female-dominated organisation had a much better teaching style for aggressive female omegas. 

Whilst HYDRA was always there as a threat, the Red Room forced your body into labour if you misbehaved. Growl out at an instructor? Stand on your head in the corner for a time limit set by the victimised instructor. Refuse to make a kill? Your dinner is sacrificed to them, but is laced with cyanide, making you fearful of every meal that touches your lips. 

Bite an instructor? You will be beaten black and blue until you pass out, for which some girls wake up and don’t remember who they are.

But enough of that - you were free. You got out. Now, you were just trying to get through every day without your status in the world being revealed. You took your suppressants daily, which you were on your way to get more of, kept your head up and acted confident, which were all the behaviours of an Alpha.

You should know, since you studied them.

But for now, you relaxed slightly, having taken your second last suppressant this morning and now waiting in line for your coffee. It was a truly beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, whilst the wind kept it cool enough for a light jacket.

Speaking of, you were going to have to get new clothes soon. Your daily ‘uniform’ was becoming bland with a simple pair of jeans, a graphic shirt, sneaker and a cap. You paid the seven dollars for your coffee before making your way out of the cafe, down to the mall, and in search of some better clothes.

You strolled through some normal big chain stores like Myer, Cotton On and H&M, and even though nothing caught your attention, that was exactly what you needed. You grabbed three pairs of jeans and four tops, just like the ones you had on, as well as a jacket, a hoodie and some extra socks. 

After paying in cash you found your way towards a shoe shop two stores down, but there were some people standing outside of them, like bouncers. You casually moved to the side like you were checking your phone, but you carefully brushed your hair away from your ear as you listened to a new couple coming in.

“Sir, Ma’am, we need to check your status, please.”

“We’re both Alphas.”

You watched them show some form of ID, probably their drivers licences, which contain both sexes of female/male and Alpha/Beta/Omega. They were then let in, and you saw this with almost all of the other shoe shops.

*Dumb laws.* You grumbled, pulling out your umpteenth fake ID as you made your way to the shop.

“Status, please.” The bouncer asked and you handed the Alpha ID over.

He let you in, but hesitated and you gave him a trained Alpha stare, to which he let you in quickly for. You found two pairs of shoes, almost exactly the same, and quickly made your way back home. 

Once you returned, you quickly dumped your bags and checked outside - almost sunset. Your supplier was going to meet you soon and you had to be there on time. He knew you were an Omega and was a strangely kind Beta, feeling sympathetic for how you acted like an Alpha but couldn’t deny your half-yearly heat and your drops.

You threw on the new set of clothes, knowing that meeting with old clothes led to the possibility of your scent releasing. They were comfy, but they felt new, like how the hoodie’s fluff wasn’t built over time, but stock-standard.

As soon as the sky changed, you eyed the figure coming out of the shadows to your left, his lips curled into a gentle smile.

“Y/N! It’s been a while.” He shook your hand, which led to you handing over half of the money.

“So, you got it, Vladi?” You asked as you walked with him to the truck.

“Oh yeah. I have some strong stuff too if you’ve run out, by the way.” 

You shrugged. “Normal order.” 

“One of everything, coming riiiight up.” He grinned, rummaging through the boxes to find yours. 

You were patient and handed him the other half of the payment before he began to drive away, your whole body tense until you locked your apartment door behind you. You tipped the last suppressant into the new box before hiding it behind the sink drain pipe, keeping the other ones hidden within your belongings. Inspections were random sometimes and you needed to be prepared when hiding your illegal suppressants.

The next day was even more boring since you had nothing to do; no suppressants to collect, no clothes to buy. It was just another day, spinning on the big dumb rock. 

Or so you thought.

You decided to treat yourself and go to the top of the roof for the evening, watching the stars whilst eating your takeaway noodles. It was peaceful and it was the only time you could truly let your guard down, even if that meant no scenting because of your suppressants. 

You leaned back in the sunchair and observed the different constellations, connecting the dots much more easily than the average person. Pegasus was angled slightly down, with Perseus to the left and Capricornus to the right. Hercules was just in front of it, whilst Ursa Major and Minor sat next to each other.

But then you heard the sound of tinkling metal from behind you, as well as the scrapes of it digging into the rooftop. You waited patiently as the almost silent footsteps came closer to you before you stood up and kicked the sunchair back, the mess of blonde hair in a white suit wincing at the hit to her stomach.

“Ow!” She growled, and you could smell the Beta in her.

“Who the hell are you?” You growled back, extending a set of claws.

“Look, I just want to talk. What do you know about the dealing of suppressants around here?” She asked calmly, a thick Ukrainian accent matching it.

One you almost acknowledged. “Those are illegal.” You commented like an Alpha.

She nodded. “Indeed.”

She backed away from you but not without your eyes catching a small vial of red, another grappling hook attaching to the rooftop before a noirette with bright blue eyes came into your vision.

“Yelena! What the hell?!” 

The name only confirmed your suspicions.

“Kate, not now!” She hissed at her, a smirk coming onto your face.

“Lover’s quarrel?” You jeered.

They both gave you a glare and you put your hands up. “I’ll leave if it helps.”

Kate sighed and faced you. “Has anybody moved in here recently? Like, four months?”

You shook your head in a stone-faced lie. “Not that I’ve heard of.” 

Yelena looked you up and down before she pocketed the red vial, to which you watch them leave you alone and head back down their grappling lines. You calmly made your way back to your apartment before you looked at the time - 1:30am.

“Man, work’s gonna be a bitch.” You grumbled, collapsing as soon as your head hit the pillow on the ground.

And it truly was, yet you were only a quarter of your way through it. 

Bartending was a profession most Omegas went into, serving drinks, doing dishes, serving food; it all helped calm down a bit of the biology. Your bar manager, Sophie, was a Beta, which helped mute out the smell an Omega could possibly give off when under stressful conditions. And your restaurant manager, Danny, was a married Alpha who often had dinner with his wife Alura and kids, Raquelle and Jason.

It was a slow start to the night at the bar section, which allowed Sophie to leave you alone and help the kitchen staff with delivering orders to tables. You were what she liked to call a ‘spicy Omega’, which she saw as an Omega who could stand their ground.

At least she didn’t know about your other Alpha-resistance training.

But then you recognised two heads at the front of a group of people, a very recognisable group - the Avengers. You mentally caved and regretted ever having a conversation with the blonde and noirette as they came over to you.

“Nice to see you again.” Yelena commented.

“Not so sure I can say the same.” You smirked.

“What can I get for you?”

“A table-”

“For ten, booked under Stark.” The one and only billionaire interrupted Yelena and you lightly scowled at the only Omega celebrity you knew.

“Your table is over there, but let the lady speak next time.” 

He nodded before guiding the group over with Captain America's hand in his own, your eyes noticing a child and a teenager which led you to grab some crayons and colouring pages for Sophie as she passed by. You didn’t try to listen to their conversation, instead focusing on keeping the glasses and trays stocked and clean. 

Sophie soon came over to you about three minutes later with a large order of drinks. A few cocktails, one for each woman you assumed, whilst a couple of beers would be for the men and the lemonade and apple juice were for the kids.

You also noticed that the little girl was watching you from the end of the booth, propped up on her knees to watch you mix drinks. Now that you had an audience, you were prepared to amaze her.

Flipping the drinks and shakers around, you mixed the drinks up and watched her smile grow as you threw in a few extra flips here and there, gathering a crowd of attention now. You finally laid out the four cocktails and expertly poured straight across, receiving a cheer from the people sitting nearby as well as a loud squeal from the little girl.

You then decided to make your way over to the table, all of the drinks weighted neatly on your tray before you started to hand them out. You were right on all of your guesses, smiling at the little girl when she showed you her messily coloured picture of a scene in Bambi, whilst the teenager was still busy with his Lord of the Rings picture.

“Would you like me to frame it?” You offered her, a couple of surprised chuffs coming from the adults.

“Yes please!” She begged and you took the picture, making your way back to your station before pulling out a picture frame. 

You carefully slid the picture in, making sure it wasn’t dirty, before clasping the frame together and hanging it on your wall. You then took over a couple more menus since you saw them struggling, and put your hands in your pocket to reach your ordering device.

“Alright, is anybody ready to order?” You asked and they all gave each other confirming looks. 

“Would you like to put names on the order or just keep it under Tony Stark?” 

Some raised eyebrows came your way and they decided to do separate names, but only after checking with you that it was okay. You took down their orders and slowly ‘learned’ their names, even if you already knew some of them.

“I-I’m Morgan, and can I have some pizza please?” She asked you sweetly, putting her hands together.

You smiled at her. “Of course. What kind of pizza would you like?”

“Cheese and-and ham! And the yellow fruity triangles!” She exclaimed.

“Hawaiian, please.” Tony clarified, to which you winked at Morgan.

“I was hoping to have the kitchen staff confused so I could make it myself.” 

A few more chuckles came from the group until you took the last two orders from 'Wanda' and 'Natasha', but you noticed how their eyes lingered on you for a touch too long. 

And then you made the mistake of taking note of their scents.

Six of the eight adults were Alphas. Shit, shit, shit.

You gave them a curt nod and tried to not scurry back to the kitchen, needing to take a break even if you were scheduled for one later. Once you were in the back room, you scrambled for your small bag of belongings and saw the extra strong suppressants Vladi had given you.

You chucked one down and took some deep breaths. An Alpha or two you could handle, but six? Might as well shoot you with a tranq dart.

You quickly made your way out when you were done and asked Sophie to manage that table from now until they finished, getting an alarmed look from her but you explained that you were fine, just overwhelmed. 

“I just had a talk with them, sweets. They won’t be doing any more scenting, okay?” Her lovely Southern accent calmed you and you nodded, letting her kiss your forehead before she moved to the back again.

By now there was a steady stream of customers at the bar and you were handling it well, speeding through margaritas and cocktails whilst scotches and vodkas were a simple pour-n-go. However, you did almost have a heart attack when Wanda and Natasha were the last in the line.

“Hey, can we get two more of those cocktails? Just for us.” Natasha asked calmly and you nodded, beginning to make them at a slightly slower pace.

“Morgan likes you, you know.” Wanda added, bringing out a small smirk from you.

“Does she now? Well, you can tell her that her picture isn’t coming down any time soon.” You pointed at it.

They both chuckled. “So we were wondering…”

*Don’t say my name, don’t say my name.* You muttered in your head, but their eyes inevitably flitted down to your nametag.

“Y/N… could we see you outside of this establishment at some point?” Wanda questioned curiously.

“We could just get coffee if you want?” 

You gulped down the Omega in you and shrugged. “What days? I’ve got a busy schedule.” 

“Any time.” Natasha replied.

You looked at the two of them. They were Alphas, you were an Omega, the possibility was there. But were you mates? Did all three of you share marks? Yours were placed just underneath your neck, a perfect hiding spot when coupled with a jacket, hoodie, bartending shirt or even a low ponytail. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t remember my schedule off of the top of my head. Calendar and all.” You chuckled sheepishly, handing over their drinks.

“We can give you our numbers if that’s more helpful?” They both asked at the same time, pulling out their phones.

You were suddenly called to your station and had to abandon the girls, but they were determined. There was something about you, something wrong, yet so right. Dinner came and went, dessert came and went, and as the bill landed in front of them, they made their move. 

You opened the bill to sort the receipt, ignoring the two pairs of eyes on you as they tidied up, and saw a message written on the back. ‘Y/N - hope to see you soon! W&N xx’ 

You hid your blush well but felt a presence behind you, a familiar yet towering one at that. “Hi, Danny.”

“Hi, Y/N. Are you feeling okay? They were giving you some very weird looks.” He commented, watching the group leave quietly.

“I’m okay.” You murmured, but he knew you.

“Go home, Y/N. Take the night off, I’ll still pay you.” 

“Danny, that’s not fair-”

“You made us more than enough profit tonight. Go home.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you sighed.

“If you say so.” You shrugged, grabbing your bag and heading out the back door. 

Yet, those voices were still there. Wanda, Natasha, Yelena, Kate, Tony - you could decipher them all. Some were different and you couldn’t match them without a face, but you steadily followed behind them as you walked home.

You eventually crossed the street, your apartment a few turns away from the Avengers Tower, which drew the attention of Wanda and Natasha. They told the group they’d meet up in the Tower and they followed after you, just making sure you got home safe.

But a group of men were wolf-whistling you, and they watched them crowd around you.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out at this time all alone?”

“She’s not alone.” Natasha growled, the group jumping at the sight of the two Avengers before a man stepped forward.

“Oh yeah? What, is she your little bitch? Keep her on a lead next time, or she’ll be ours.” He grabbed you roughly and pulled you into him, something which you did not like.

You pushed him out, grabbed his right wrist and flipped him over, pinning his arm back in an excruciating hold that had him whining like a pup. “Submit.” You growled, trying to sound as Alpha as possible.

He tapped three times quickly and bared his neck, making your ego inflate at your acting abilities. You looked at Natasha and Wanda for a few more seconds, trying to decipher their objectives, before turning 180 and heading into the building.

Wanda’s eyes glowed as the men turned to them. “Try it, let’s see how you feel being thrown fifty feet into the air before dying on impact.” 

They scattered like prey and it almost enticed them to chase, but they waited until you were inside of the elevator before going back to the Tower.

The next afternoon, having slept away the morning, you sent a generic text to the two Avengers saying hi. They then sent back dozens, asking to meet for lunch or afternoon tea by the shore. You sighed, knowing they wouldn’t budge until you said yes, so you obliged and agreed to meet at 4. 

Now, you were making your way down there, a casual stroll in your step as you came into the sunshine in your simple jeans, top and hoodie. No cap this time as it was shaded, and you smelled the two Alphas at the restaurant before you came to the front door.

“Status, please.” The bouncer asked.

*What the fuck?* You grumbled in your mind, handing over your Beta ID since you saw it on his.

He held it to your face and you took off the hoodie, revealing your ponytailed hair and the rest of your body. He handed it back to you before you walked over to the girls, reining in your scent.

The conversation was light, learning about each other and how they met. You were surprised to hear they were on opposite sides twice, but now that the Sokovia Accords were scrapped, they were okay. 

“How about you, Y/N? Got a partner?” Wanda asked and you shook your head.

“Still looking. Haven’t really had time to look, though.” You shrugged, sipping on your hot chocolate.

“Are you gay or straight or…?” Natasha questioned.

“I like women. Not really good at the labels.” You replied nonchalantly.

“Fair enough.” 

The chatter went on mindlessly for a bit longer and if it wasn’t for your training, you weren’t sure you could have kept it up for so long. The questions were so mundane, so dull compared to your ever busy life. 

But then again, you should really knock on wood when you say something like that. Or an explosion will go off underneath the waterfront.

The ground shook beneath you and people ran for safety, whilst Natasha and Wanda recognised the group of people as HYDRA agents. Wanda’s magic protected some civilians whilst Natasha’s trusty guns fired upon some, a trigger in one’s hand that set off another explosion.

“Y/N, get inside!” Natasha commanded but you ignored the Alpha, moving to help some other restaurant goers. 

“Y/N!” Wanda barked, but watched you help up a lady and her son.

“Go! Get inside!” You yelled, but the ground shook again, almost like the bomb was underneath you. 

You stumbled and almost gained your footing, but the rushing crowd tripped you until you landed face first. It earned you a graze along your cheek, a few scrapes on your arms and elbows, but that was the problem.

Now, there was blood. And blood was not something a suppressant could do anything about.

You looked up and saw the bouncer fall over, his eyes going to you in shock. “Omega?” 

Your face turned ghostly at the status, scrambling to get to your feet. You spun around to see Natasha and Wanda looking for you, but when Wanda saw the state you were in, you knew it was too late.

‘Omega?’ She mouthed to you.

You sprinted faster than you’d ever sprinted in your life. Fear had truly grasped your heart, not letting go until you were in the safety of your apartment. You locked the door before barricading it, doing the same to the window in the bedroom and bathroom. 

Your breathing was still heavy as you slid down the wall of the bathroom, trying to regain your senses as you cleaned yourself up. You had to admit, it was more of a struggle when your surroundings were spinning and you had two Y/N’s to look at in the mirror.

You slowly bandaged yourself up before looking for another apartment, your time here up as not one, not two, but three people had just found out about your status. You scrambled to pack your things, only taking away the barricade when you were completely ready.

But the sight of two Alphas was enough to make your knees wobble.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, Y/N.” Natasha caught you, her touch warm to your skin.

“Holy shit, you’re jacked.” 

You rolled your eyes at that well-known fact for ex-Widows and ex-HYDRAs. They guided you to the bed and helped you sit down, your eyes unable to stay open for very long as pain rang through your head.

“Y/N, you might have a concussion.” Wanda explained, raising her hand up to your head before you grabbed it.

“Don’t touch my head.” You growled. 

She backed off, confusing you. Alphas were supposed to be demanding. Why wasn’t she demanding? Natasha came to try next, but soon there were two of her and two Wandas, sending your Omega core into a state of confusion.

“How did we not smell it before?” Natasha’s voice sounded far away as you stood, but four hands tried to keep you down.

“Get off me!” You growled, pushing them away with the same force of an Alpha.

“This doesn’t make sense…” 

You collapsed as Natasha failed to finish her sentence. Or maybe your ears just didn’t wanna listen. Either way, you welcomed the familiar darkness.

.

.

A/N: Part 2.

#baby writes #natasha romanoff fic #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat angst #wandanat fluff #wandanat x fem!reader #wandanat x female reader

[little-diable]

Sorry you're not feeling well! How about something like Priest Dean/Reader, and "Father" very quickly turns into Daddy. He's probably under cover for another one of those reaper/healer deals, and the reader is getting scammed.

Hi lovie, thank you for this and for inspiring this drabble! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Pure pwp, bj in a confessional

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), face fuck, daddy kink

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (700 words)

She felt her heart racing, spurred on by excitement, by the feeling of danger. With her eyes focused on the handsome man towering over her, (y/n) waited for his next command. Father Winchester wore a grin so devilish, she feared she was already stuck in hell, unable to escape the devil’s grasp.

“Beg for it, sweetheart.” A cross dangled from his neck, like a pendulum it swung over her, deciding her fate. She had prayed that she’d end up in this very position, on her knees for the man she so desperately wanted to touch. (Y/n) wouldn’t have asked the Holy Father for any help if it weren’t for that small nagging feeling, telling her that the man she was interested in was only putting on a facade, not a real priest.

“Let me taste you, please, I want to make you feel good, father.” (Y/n) whispered her words, staring up at him to watch his every expression change. The groan rumbling through the priest left her grinning in success, parting her lips for his darkening eyes, exposing her eager tongue to him.

“You know that’s not how to address me, right?” He fumbled with his trousers to free his hardening cock as he swallowed in excitement, about to fuck her mouth. 

“Please, daddy.” Raspy chuckles left the man as he forced his cock into her mouth. Both moaned at the sudden intrusion, eyes rolling into the back of their heads as if a demon was now feasting from their souls. Dean didn’t hold back, didn’t give her much time to adjust, he was eager to fuck her face, to make her gag on his cock as if it was the last thing she’d do before leaving this place behind.

The confessional gave them enough privacy, and yet it began to close in on them with every further sound leaving them. It felt as if God and the Devil were watching the two, making bets on their bodies and souls to win them for their own greedy longings. 

“Fuck, I knew that mouth of yours would be my end.” His groaned words left her humming, allowing the sound to vibrate on his skin to draw another moan from him. His darkening green eyes stared down at her with something dangerous laced in his gaze, making her shudder in excitement. 

For a second she pulled away, pumping his cock with her hand as she caught her breath. (Y/n) smiled at him as her eyes wandered over his pleasure-drunken features, proud of herself for making him feel like that.

“Fuck my face harder, please, daddy. Use me.” (Y/n) whispered the words, gasping in surprise as his hand found her hair to hold her in place. Within seconds he had pushed back into her mouth, set on a fast pace to fuck her mouth like she had asked him to. She gagged around him with tears running down her cheeks and spit dripping from her chin, making a mess on the holy ground. 

He twitched in her mouth, was close to filling her cheeks with his cum, and yet his pace didn’t falter, keeping her as close as possible. Her glassy eyes watched his every move, not wanting to miss a single second as he chased his orgasm. 

And with a deep groan, he came, head rolling back, hand tightening its grip on her hair. She greedily swallowed every drop as he pulled away, watching her with adoration swimming in his pupils. 

“Let me give you a small advice, father, the next time you want to deceive people with that priest act, don’t fuck their mouths like that, no priest would be this good.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader #priest fic

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Bitter brew of change || Billy the Kid x Murphy!reader

Summary: Victoria Murphy, the niece of rancher Lawrence Murphy, invites Billy over for tea. As their encounter unfolds, Billy's defiance challenges Victoria's arrogance, sparking an unexpected internal struggle within her.

Warnings: sorry reader has a name but feel free to ignore it, reader is a bitch soz, reader smokes (not romanticising) if there's anything else lmk!

Wc: 1,223

Billy the Kid Masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

You lived in the small town of Lincoln, the niece of the influential and feared rancher Lawrence Murphy. You were known for your beauty and high status, but your demeanor left much to be desired. You lived in a lavish hacienda on the outskirts of town, your days filled with the privilege that came from your family name.

"Is it true that Billy the Kid will be working for you, uncle?" You lean forward in you seat, setting the delicate tea cup down before resting your arms on the armchair.

Major Murphy arches an eyebrow in your direction, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "It seems you're quite curious about my affairs, dear Tori," he murmurs, a cigar nestled between his lips as he expertly lights it. As you observe, his face transforms into a canvas of pure bliss upon exhaling.

When whispers echoed through the town that Billy the Kid, the infamous outlaw, was making his way to Lincoln to join forces with your uncle, intrigue coursed through your veins. For months, tales of the daring and handsome young gunslinger had reached your ears, and what you desired most was not just to hear stories, but to talk to him face-to-face.

You casually shrug, effortlessly retrieving a cigar from your purse and igniting it with a swift movement. "I want to meet him," you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, exhaling slowly as Major Murphy chuckles in response.

"Now, just imagine what your daddy would have to say about this, Victoria. His darling daughter talking with an outlaw wanted for murder, hmm?" Murphy chuckles at his own jest, and you can't help but respond with a dismissive roll of your eyes.

"He doesn't need to know," you suggest with a mischievous glint in your eyes, casting a look at your uncle who appears to mull it over. "Please, uncle?" You flash him your most innocent puppy-dog expression, all while delicately cradling a cigar between your artfully painted fingers.

"Alright. Him and his gang are scheduled for dinner tonight, and I can arrange for you to sit across from him," Murphy concedes, succumbing to the charms you wield so effectively for your own advantage. "But let's be clear, Tori. No funny business. My brother would have my head if he discovered he laid a single finger on you under my watch," he warns, pointing a finger at you with a serious demeanor.

You rise with giddy anticipation, snatching your purse as you prepare to depart. "I promise. Thanks, Uncle," you express your gratitude before gracefully exiting his office. A mischievous smile graces your lips, and with deliberate flair, you indulge in a few draws from the toxic cigar held delicately between your fingers.

"Good mood, Miss Victoria?" James Dolan tips his hat at you upon entering the house. "Mhm, very good mod sir," You offer a pat on his shoulder, graciously handing him your cigar as you stroll past him.

~

"Maria, prepare my dress, won't you? I must be at my absolute best when I meet him," you exclaim with eager anticipation, tossing your head back to savor the warmth of whiskey trickling down your throat. "Certainly, miss," the young woman acknowledges with a nod, swiftly making her way to ensure your dress is impeccably arranged.

You gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a satisfied smile gracing your lips as you delicately adjust the pearls adorning your neck. You turn your head when you hear Maria walking in, her hands holding a red, squared neck dress. "Not that one," you scold, your tone commanding attention, "fetch the other red dress, the off-shoulder one!" A slight groan escapes your lips as Maria swiftly retreats to rectify her mistake.

"Perfect," escapes you in a contented sigh, your eyes tracing the flawless contours of your red dress. It hugs every curve, accentuating your delicate collarbones and enhancing your chest. "Don't I just look perfect?" With a confident turn, you catch the discreet glances exchanged between Maria and the other servants in the room.

"I asked a question and expect an answer-" "You look perfect, miss," "Very beautiful, miss," "You look gorgeous, miss," You revel in satisfaction at their replies, a smile playing on your lips as you turn back around, hands gliding smoothly down the contours of your dress.

"Billy has never seen a more perfect, gorgeous lady until tonight, aren't I right, Maria?" You drawled as the women furiously nods, opening her mouth to speak, "Billy will be speechless, miss."

"Exactly right. Billy will be speechless," You muse with a self-satisfied smile. "Ready my carriage, I'll be leaving soon," you announce, the silk gloves slipping effortlessly over your hands.

~

Amidst a gathering of distinguished women, you found yourself scanning the room, anticipating the sight of him. And there he was. A radiant gleam filled your eyes as you absorbed his commanding presence—his penetrating gaze and an aura that effortlessly commanded attention—while he entered with his gang of cowboys trailing behind.

The crowd falls silent for a moment, collectively recognizing the arrival of the infamous gunslinger. Swiftly, you navigate through the body of people, skillfully making your way to your uncle, who was comfortably seated on the couch, surrounded by his associates.

"Sorry to interrupt, gentleman. I need to speak to my uncle," you graciously interject, offering a charming smile as Murphy stands up. "Yes, Tori?" You grip his arm, your eyes on Billy across the room as he drinks alongside his gang, his eyes wandering around the room.

"There he is." You tilt your head in Billy's direction. "Mind introducing me to him?" Your eyes eagerly meet your uncle's, who sighs but nevertheless complies, setting his glass of whisky down on the table.

"Billy!" Your uncle calls out as you follow behind him. "Meet my lovely niece. She lives just outside town," Major Murphy presents you with a smile. Your eyes sparkle with admiration as you take in his appearance up close.

You extend a gloved hand, "Victoria Murphy," You introduce yourself with a touch of formality, though you heart was racing beneath the façade. Billy, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, takes your hand with a respectful nod.

"Billy, ma'am," he replies, his voice low and drawling. His eyes lingered on yours as well as his hold on your hand for a moment longer than was proper. A flush of red creeps up on your cheek as you clear your throat, retracting your hand.

~

Adorned in a striking strapless dress, you patiently waited for the arrival of Billy. You had invited him to you house for morning tea last night. As Billy entered the Murphy hacienda, he couldn't help but notice your calculated charm.

You greeted him with a smirk, and it was evident that you enjoyed the effect you had on him. The mansion was adorned with opulence, a stark contrast to the humble dwellings of the townsfolk.

"Elena, go bring us tea," You sternly spoke to the newly employed maid who scrambles off. Billy watches the interaction with a slight furrow of his eyebrows before he sets his eyes back on you with a charming smile.

During the evening, your treatment of your Spanish maids became apparent. Your demands were met with silent obedience, and the atmosphere in the hacienda was one of subservience. Despite the discomfort in the air, Billy remained composed, observing the dynamic at play.

"Mr. Bonney, won't you have a seat?" You gestured towards an ornate chair. Billy nodded graciously, "Billy's fine," he smiles briefly, his eyes lingering on the elegant surroundings. As he settled into the chair, you took a seat across from him.

"So, Billy, how do you like it here in Lincoln," You gaze at him as you readjust your dress. Billy's eyes couldn't help but let his eyes wander down to your chest as you tug it up. Clearing his throat, he opens his mouth, "It's lovely here," he nods, eyes wandering around the room.

You slowly nodding, Billy was a man of few words. "Light my cigarette, will ya?" You reach for a cigar before nestling it in between you painted lips and leaning over for him to light the other end. Your eyes move to the doors that opened revealing Elena. "Tea?" You inquired, flicking the ash into the ash tray, as Elena comes closer to the two of you. As she comes closer, you notice her shaking.

The delicate porcelain cup trembled in her hands and you couldn't help the scowl that made it to your face. She nervously looks at you and then Billy—who notices her nervousness, offers her a friendly smile.

Her hands shakily attempt to put the teacup and teapot set down on the table, the shaking of the porcelain being the only source of noise. "Oh for goodness sake, Elena, just put it down-"

Billy, watching you was caught off guard when a cascade of hot liquid spilled onto his lap. Your face contorted with anger as you stood up, Elena lets out a gasp, furiously apologising.

"I am so sorry. I'm so sorry- I didn't mean to-" Elena stammered as her hands frantically try to wipe the hot liquid off Billy's jeans as your breathing became heavier with embarrassment.

Billy catches Elena's hands in his, "Hey- it's okay, 'm fine." Billy shrugs and offers her a smile. "Elena. You may go," You walk over to her, your hand grasping her forearm as she stumble.

"You've embarrassed me enough today," you harshly say to her, closing the door on her face, though your harsh words reached Billy's listening ear.

Billy, feeling the sting of the scalding tea, looked at you with a cool gaze. "There's no need to treat her like that," he said calmly. Unaccustomed to defiance, you scoffed.

"And why not? They're my maids, I pay them, so I can treat them however I want," You cross your arms in front of your arms, head tilted to the side slightly.

Billy's response was measured yet firm. "'Cause it's not right. We're all human, deserving of respect. You felt a mixture of annoyance and intrigue. Here was a man who didn't bow to her every whim. She'd be lying if she said her attraction to Billy, wasn't fueled by the unexpected clash of wills.

You took a long drag, maintaining eye contact with Billy, attempting to decipher him. "You're quite different, Billy," You comment, as he tilts his head at your words. "Am I? Why? Because I think it's wrong that you treating your maids poorly?" You see a glint of rage in his icy blue eyes.

“Because you openly tell me this. A proper man would keep it to himself and let a woman like myself do as she pleases. After all, a household thrives on order, and as the woman of this house, I run it how I please." Your voice carried an authoritative resonance, unwavering even under Billy's icy gaze.

"I'm an outlaw, baby," he drawled as you narrow your eyes at him, "outlaws aren't considered proper men," he leans forward in his seat, his blue eyes boring into yours before he downs the already cold tea.

In the quiet moments that followed, Billy's presence became a subtle challenge to your accustomed lifestyle. He spoke of a different way of life, one where strength and honor were not measured by the wealth one possessed. Yo were torn between your attraction to Billy and the expectations placed upon you, you found yourself grappling with conflicting emotions.

"Your beauty is undeniable, Victoria," his sudden words of compliment cause you to look up at him. "But your arrogance and mistreatment of others make you ugly," he remarked, his eyes piercing at you.

You, unused to facing such truths, felt a mixture of anger and vulnerability. You wanted to dismiss his words, to maintain a façade of invincibility, but a part of you longed for something more genuine.

At high noon, Billy prepared to leave the Murphy hacienda. You stood on the steps of your threshold, looking at Billy with a mixture of defiance and longing. Billy, sensing the internal struggle within you, offered a parting piece of advice.

"You're a good girl, Victoria. Don't let your stubbornness and pride get into the way of being a decent human being," with those words lingering in the air, Billy rode off, leaving a conflicted woman on the steps of the Murphy hacienda. The echoes of their encounter resonated through the town, a subtle reminder that even the toughest hearts could be swayed by the winds of change.

#fanfiction #tom blyth #billy the kid #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid imagine #william bonney #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games trilogy #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas imagine #william h. bonney #the hunger games #billy the kid smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #william h bonney #young president snow #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #thg #the hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow #william h bonney x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes

[dominantslasherking]

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen With Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Backstory: One of Feyd's Harpies disrespects you. Feyd is ruthlessly possessive and obsessed with you.

Inside Feyd's dimly lid corridor, his concubines known as 'harpies' roamed free, one in particalar, eyeing both of the males down. Feyd's gaze fixated onto you. Of course you always held his undevided attention in any room or setting. You've always managed to ignite a flame deep within his very esscense. So much that Feyd's sheer feelings for you bordered on complete madness. A relentless feeling that consumed his every waking thought.

Both of them continued to converse with each other. However a harpy, one of Feyd's cannibalistic concubine chimed up, sitting down on a love-seat with her body spiarled out, "Na-Baron," she purred, her voice dripping with disdain as her gaze swept over to you. "Surely you jest to entertain such... lesser beings in our midst, for such a long period of time already" With an antigonzig slow turn of his head, Feyd looked at the harpy. Feyd's jaw clenched with barely contained fury, his possessive instincts flaring to life at the harpy's insolence. "Watch your tongue, harpy," he growled, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the chamber. The harpy recoiled at Feyd's harsh tone, her eyes widening in fear as she realized the gravity of her mistake.

You slowly leaned and whispered in Feyd's ear, caressing the side of his jaw, soothingly. "Don't make to much of a mess, lover~" Feyd took in a halted breath almost as if your words completed tarnished any thought of the harpies brutal death. Feyd leaned in closely, so close your noses were mere inches from touching, his hot breath on your lips as he gave a smile to you.

With a sudden snap, and an unshethening sound, Feyd charged towards the Harpy, his blade stabbing the harpy right into the chest, he repeated this process, until she was like a limp noodle. Finally pulling out the knife, his tongue etching out of his mouth, letting his tongue lick across the steels blood. Feyd stool tall, heading back over to you. With a possessive gleam in his eyes, Feyd closed the final gap between you, his arms encircling you in a vice-like grip that left no room for escape.

Feyd's smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You cannot refuse," he declared, his voice laced with certainty. "For you are mine, body and soul, now and forever."

#feyd rautha x male reader #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #slashers x male reader #feyd rautha #feyd #house harkonnen #yandere feyd rautha x male reader #yandere feyd rautha #obsessed feyd rautha

[wh0re43van]

Sparks (Evan Peters X Reader)

Summary: You’re a set director on American horror story’s Freakshow. Evan has been trying to convince you to ‘smoke and chill’ for months, but you’ve always rejected him in fear of jeopardizing your job. After a particularly stressful shoot, Evan finally convinces you to spark with him.

Warnings: intense smut, face fucking, choking, drug use.

Word count: 3k

A/n: This is my first time writing in awhile so I’m bit rusty

"Hey y/n I just re-upped,” Evan announces as he walks up behind me.  “He's got the best homegrown around and It's cured perfect every time. Come to my place tonight and I'll let you sample," He offers as he slips an arm around my shoulder. "You don't even have to match, just give me something else in return," he says lowly in my ear. My heart skips a beat and my cheeks blush red. Evans been blatantly flirting with me since we started shooting. It's been my own personal hell having to reject such a perfect man because its 'not professional to have personal relations with the cast'.

"Evan," I sigh as I look up at his dark eyes. "I honestly would love to-" he cuts me off.

"Then consider it y/n," he simply states. I smile at him. I have to admit that he's starting to wear me down

"Evan, I have to finish my walk through before the shooting starts" I turn back to the counter to consult my mockup. He backs up and leans against the wall.

"I’ll just keep you company then," he grins.

•

•

‘Fuck’ I curse internally as I run from a very angry Mr. Murphy. One of my idiot crew members forgot to do their only job and set out the menus for the next scene. We’re an hour behind on filming and we’re only here for three days. The director is pissed to say the least.

I throw open the door to the storage room and start ripping open boxes. I swear I'm going to lose every last ounce of sanity I have left. We started shooting two hours ago and I've rolled my ankle, got broken glass stuck in my hand, and of course, been bitched at constantly.

"Did you find them?" Evan questions as he closes the door behind him.

"What?" I ask, not processing what he's saying as I rip haphazardly through every single cardboard box in this room, brown paper flying everywhere.

"Did you-" He begins to repeat, then pauses. I feel him grab my arm gently, stopping my whirlwind of motion. "Y/N," he says calmy.

"What Evan?" I snap at him. I can feel the stress dripping out of every pore of my body. Turns out stress smells a lot like sweat. Evan jumps a bit at my tone, then simply points his 'lobster claw' to a box of pink menus that I opened without even realizing it. I was so stressed and overwhelmed I didn't even realize I found the goddamn menus four boxes ago.

I groan and lay my head on Evans chest.

"I'm such a fucking stupid idiot." I mumble his white shirt, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Evan chuckles and clumsily lifts my chin up with his makeup bound hands. His smile immediately drops when he sees my face.

"Hey y/n don't cry," he coos, his voice laced with concern.

"Evan I'm losing my mind," I sniffle as he pulls me into a hug.

"You know what you need?" He asks I shake my head 'yes.'

"A blunt." We both say in unison. I feel his cheek stretch into a smile against mine, proud of himself for finally convincing me.

•

•

My hand shakes as I ring the doorbell to Evans hotel room.

“Ma’ Lady,” Evan bows as he opens the door for me. What a dork.

“Thank you good sir,” I attempt a curtsy as I walk in. I guess were both dorks.

We chuckle as he latches the door behind me.

“Right this way,” he ushers me to his balcony looking over the city. I step out onto the cool concrete, hearing Heaven Beside You by Alice in Chains playing. There's two bean bag chairs set up with a bundle of blankets on each one. Purple and white string lights hang all around the ceiling and railing of the small balcony.

“Wow Evan, this is really cool. I’m impressed with how you spend your free time,” I admit, sitting down in one of the chairs, pulling a blanket into my lap.

“Actually,” he sits down in the chair beside me as he picks up the rolling tray. “I’ve never done this before. I set all of this up as soon as I got home,” he chuckles.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I tell him honestly. I’m dumbfounded. This might seem like a small gesture, but this is one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me. He went out of his way just for me.

“Then don’t say anything. Just grab me that bong,” he grins, pointing to the glass sitting on the ground next to the door. I stand up and bend over to pick up the simple clear bong, feeling Evans gaze burn into the back of me. When I hand him the piece, I get close enough to his face to see that his eyes are already glossy.

“Evan Peters,” I tisk. “did you start with out me?” I ask putting my hand to my chest in faux offense.

“I was a little nervous, I’ve been waiting for this for so long… I was scared if I was sober I’d mess it up,” he admits. His pale cheeks tinting pink.

“I’m flattered,” I smile. He opens the metal grinder sitting on his lap and begins to pack the bowl. “but it is rude to start a sesh before your guest arrives.” He hands me the packed bong.

“Well how’s bout you get this all to yourself and we call it even,” he wagers. I take the bong with a smile, accepting his offer. As I put the cool glass to my lips, I reach for the lighter on Evans thigh, but he snatches it, looking me in the eyes as he flicks the zippo, igniting a hot bright flame that he circles around the bowl. He begins to pull the flame away, but I grab his hand to hold the light in place for a couple more seconds. His eyes widen a bit and he smiles.

“Damn I’m glad I didn’t want any,” he chuckles, finally pulling away to spark his own joint. I pull the stem and inhale the milky smoke sharply, holding it in my lungs for bit before exhaling slowly. The smoke clouds around my face before a small gust of wind disperses it.

“Yeah, me to,” I grin softly as Evan takes another hit off his joint. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but with the past few weeks I’ve had, I’m goanna need a lot more than some weed to recover from all this stress,” I take another hit and lay my head back in the soft chair, finally feeling my muscles relax as the golden light flows through every nerve of my body. I turn my head and open my heavy eyes to look up at Evan.

“Wow that is bad,” he says, staring at something in the distance. I take this moment to truly admire the man beside me. The purple lights cascade onto his sharp features, violet pin pricks reflect in his coffee-colored eyes. The wind blows his loose brown curls around on his forehead as a rough hand holds the paper filter up to his pink lips. The end of the cone glows crimson as his chest rises, taking in a hit of hot smoke. Evan looks down at me to finish his thought. Had I been sober, I would have quickly looked away. But right now, nothing could tear my eyes from this perfect image in front of me. Evans’ eyes lock into mine as he releases the smoke slowly out through his mouth and nose. “Y/n, I-“ he begins, but before he can finish, I sit up and pull his face into mine. Gently kissing him, the smell of smoke mixed with his cologne is intoxicating all on its own. He tenses for a moment, processing what had just happened, before putting his hand on my back to bring me closer.

“I’m sorry,” I pull away suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so forward. Evan looks at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks for a second before furrowing his brow,

“Are you kidding me,” ashes fall from his joint onto his pants, reminding him of its presence. He takes small drag before finishing. “That’s all I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you.” I smile at his confession. He holds the joint to my lips offering me a hit. We hold eye contact as I pull the smoke into my mouth, then to my lungs. “You’re beyond beautiful y/n,” he compliments. I lean into kiss him, shot gunning the smoke to him. He kisses hard and inhales the smoke as if it’s his last breath. He sits the joint in the ash tray then puts his hand on the back of my head, gently but firmly, so I don’t pull away this time, Evan exhales the smoke though his nose, so he doesn’t have to break the kiss. I clumsily crawl into his lap to straddle him, and his hands instinctively grab my ass. The heat from his hands warming me through the thin fabric of my leggings. I feel hungry, starving for more and more of him. As my knees sink into the soft chair around him, I begin to grind my hips against his.

“Evan,” I breath out, begging to feel more of his skin on mine. He looks at me with lust filled eyes and kiss bruised lips as I begin to lift his shirt up. He grabs my hand gently.

“Let’s go inside, darling,” he whispers. “You never know if one of those creeps are near by.” He looks around, checking for paparazzi. I was puzzled for a second, before remembering Evans’ status. I nod and climb off him. He stands, his dark jeans tented at the crotch and his white t-shirt rising and falling quickly on his chest. He grabs my hand to guide me inside.

“Can’t forget this,” I grin, stopping to grab a fresh blunt and the zippo. He chuckles as I spark the cone. He pulls me into his lounge, locking the door and closing the blinds. After I had a few hits, I hand the joint to Evan as I sit down on the leather couch.

“We don’t have to do anything more than this if you don’t want y/n,” he almost whispers through the smoke, sitting down next to me. I look into his desperate eyes as he hands me the warm paper.

“Please,” I inhale. “Please Evan I need you,” I beg the stoned man in front of me. With that, in one swift move, he takes the cone from my hand, putting it on the side table ash tray, removes his shirt and smashes his lips to mine, laying me down on the sofa. His kisses trail from my lips to my ear. Grabbing my throat gently he whispers. “You have no idea how desperate I am for you,” all I can do is moan in response my brain too high off THC and lust to form a coherent thought. His kisses continue trailing down my neck as his fingers work with the buttons on my black flannel. He smiles like a child when he sees that I have nothing underneath the warm button up. His mouth quickly drops to one breast swirling his warm tongue around as his hand massages my other breast, sending me into a fit of pleasure. After giving the same treatment to the other side, he rips off my leggings. He grabs the waistband of my thong. “May I?” he asks with heavy bloodshot eyes.

“Please,” I nod. He wastes no time removing the flimsy fabric and spreading my already trembling legs. He dips a long finger into my heat, groaning at how slick I already am.

“All this, just for me?” He licks the fluid off his finger, just to dip it back inside of me and out once more. “Have a taste baby,” he reaches his finger up and I close my mouth around it, licking seductively, making sure to keep eye contact.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. “Good girl,” he praises with a kiss on my nose. He quickly dips his head back down, licking from my entrance up to my clit, sucking and licking with expertise, earning a loud moan and a string of profanities from me. I quickly feel my orgasm building in my stomach, but its not enough.

“Evan, I need you to fuck me, please,” I whimper. He pulls his head up, his mouth and chin shimmering. I definitely didn’t need to ask twice. He jumps up dropping his pants and boxers allowing his perfect cock to spring free, giving himself a few good pumps. I shiver at the sight. Evan dips his head down to my core one last time, giving me a kiss then allowing a trail of warm spit to drip down and trickle to my entrance. The sight is enough to make me melt into this sticky leather couch. Evan lines his length up with me, pulling my hips up and guiding me onto his dick. Slowly filling me, stopping halfway in allowing me to adjust, but I don’t want it. I buck my hips forward, making him bottom out immediately. A string of curses leaves both our lips as he pokes at my stomach from the inside. He begins thrusting quickly, taking the hint that I’m not  wanting to make love tonight. Evans’ toned body begins to shimmer with sweat as he brings a strong hand to my throat squeezing the sides, making me just lightheaded enough to intensify the pleasure. He looks down at me, biting his lip, as he watches my face contort in pleasure from what he’s doing to me. The louder I moan, the harder he pounds into me. My breathing starts to hitch with each thrust as I clench around him.

“Evan I’m going to-” before I can finish my sentence, he pulls out completely, making me groan from the sudden empty feeling. I curse and open my mouth to question him.

“Turn over,” he demands as he stands up. I obey and begin to shift on the couch. “hands and knees.” He specifies, slapping me hard on the ass, I cant help but giggle as the sting lingers on my sweaty skin. I prop myself up on my forearms on the arm of the couch and spread my legs, wiggling my ass a bit as wait for Evan to fill me back up.

“Your body is so perfect,” he says as grabs and kisses my ass before I feel him line himself up again, quickly thrusting in to satisfying the ache in the empty space he left behind in my stomach. Once he finds his rhythm, I feel his hand snake around my throat and the other around my torso as he pulls me flush against him. My shoulders press against his as I arch my back. In this new potion, he hits my g spot perfectly.

“Shit Evan! Yes please,” I pant. “just like this. Please fuck me just like this! Don’t stop,” I plead as I squeeze his strong arms that are wrapped around me. Even groans lowly at the praise.

“I need you to cum y/n,” he whispers in my ear, reaching down to rub circles on my clit. “Can you do that for me, gorgeous?” All I can do is moan and nod my head ‘yes’. His thrust propels me towards my orgasm as I scream out profanities. “That’s it, good girl,” his hot breath moans into my ear laced with the smell of stale smoke. I curl my toes and grip his forearms with all my force, leaving nail marks as my whole body tenses, then releases in pleasure.

“Evan I’m cumming!” My screams and the sound of our skin slapping together fill the room. “Fuck you make me feel so good,” I whimper as he begins to slow down his thrusts, allowing me to ride out my high.

“Good job baby,” he pulls out, pumping himself. “now get on your knees. Open your mouth.” I quickly obliged. I drop down and look up at him. The sight of his heaving, glistening chest and his brown curls sticking to his red sweaty face is enough to make me orgasm all over again. He reaches his veiny arm down and pulls my hair into a ponytail and. I happily open my mouth for him as he gently taps his rock hard tip on my lips, I moan quietly as he begins to slowly thrust in my face. I take it upon myself to press his dick as far as I can down my throat, gagging as my nose touches his abdomen.

“Holy fucking shit baby,” he pants out, now fucking my face. It doesn’t take long before he’s twitching in my deep in my throat and the salty pre cum drips into my mouth. “That’s it baby, fuck,” he swears as he grips my hair so hard I can feel a few strands snapping. It takes all of my strength to pull my head a away.

“Cum on my face, please Evan,” I gasp for breath, looking up at him with tears running from my pink eyes, as thick strands of spit string from my lips to his perfect dick. With a few pumps, and his death grip still on my hair, I open my mouth and hum in satisfaction as he releases his strings of hot liquid all over my face. He groans and curses, finally releasing my hair.

“Fuck y/n,” he sighs, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created on my face. He brings his thumb to my mouth scooping up some of his cum and bring it to my lips. I smile around his thumb, lapping up all the liquid. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he looks at me with such strong admiration in his eyes, I can’t help but blush as I lay my head into the hand he puts on my cheek. “Lets get you into the shower,” he begins guides me to the bathroom but I stop him.

“Don’t you want a cigarette first” I offer, grabbing the menthols from my flannel pocket. He grins. “Well, I’m not going to ever turn down a cigarette after sex that good,” he looks at the state of my face again. “But let me at least wipe off your face first. It’s the least I could do.” I giggle as he walks over to get a wet rag. This is absolutely worth risking my job for.

#evan peters #i hope someone catches the cody and noel reference #ahs fandom #evan peters smut #american horror story #jimmy darling #evan peters x reader #james patrick march #kyle spencer #ahs cult #kit walker #jimmy darling smut #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling imagines #tate langdon #ahs hotel #kit walker x reader #kit walker imagine #kit walker smut #kai anderson #kia Anderson smut #kyle spencer smut

[hwajin]

#!! - 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ; twin flames

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : soulmate au, non idol au, smut!! mdni, angst

— 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : hyunjin x fem!reader

— 𝐰𝐜 : 4.8k

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : it had been a while since you and hyunjin had shared a first kiss, since chan had vanished from your life — since you'd have been supposed to run towards a new love, a better one; if not for fear holding you back, if not for your cowardice standing in your and hyunjin's way.

— 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : IT'S OVERRRRR i quite literally sobbed a bit writing this chapter!! i have NEVER finished a whole series before ever and even tho it's not my best work and i would have written a couple things differently if i've given myself more time this is still my proudest work! love love love to everyone who enjoyed this series or who could feel with it 🫶🫶🫶

previous chapter | series masterlist

Underwear scattered on Hyunjin’s bedroom floor, yours and his. Panties in lace, with bows adorning their core, sets of lingerie on his chair, by the side of his bed, or simple black silk amidst his sheets. Evidence of just what exactly you and him had been busying yourself with since the first time you had touched, truly touched. Proof that your relationship wasn’t one at all, not having proceeded into directions Hyunjin had planned to.

Then again, he had promised himself to not plan, not when it came to you. To go into you without expectations, without an aim – he was glad to have you, however that was, and he felt himself too selfish should he ever want more from you, emotionally. He was well aware you weren’t ready to fall in love – or to admit to it. So, he let himself call over to your place – Chan had long moved out, as Hyunjin’d found out, having left the place to you solely –, let you come over to his whenever you pleased; he let you toy with him. Though, maybe toy was a word far too harsh – it implied pain, and you didn’t want to hurt Hyunjin. He knew, he hoped, that you had good intentions when it came to him; your lingering touches every morning against his naked chest, when you were supposed to be off to work though still laid in bed with him, despite your promise not to sleep over at the others’ place, the nicknames you called him although you told yourself and him to not go that far, your stolen, passionate kisses right after you’d tell Hyunjin that a relationship, a great love the way he imagined wasn’t something you could give him, just yet. He had promised to not ask for it, to wait on you – but whenever your touch found his skin, delicate, tender, far too sweet to not be called love, in its’ very form, Hyunjin doubted that you didn’t feel affection towards him, that your hesitation was credited simply to fear. Fear of another heartbreak, fear, maybe, that you’d misjudged Hyunjin the way you did Chan. Hyunjin understood, let himself hurt, because it was for you – grew impatient, grew needy, grew utterly hopeless.

Though, he’d lie saying he didn’t yet enjoy the time he got to spent with you. You were contradicting yourself in relation to them – told Hyunjin sternly that there was no room for romance when you met up though acted a girlfriend at times, swayed and in love, pecking his lips to catch him off guard, calling him over when you cooked a meal you knew he enjoyed, proposed long walks where no subject was left uncovered. And Hyunjin never commented it, let himself engulf in the supposed relationship he’d found himself in, with an affectionate smile often – you weren’t ready though would be, he was sure of it.

Both your bodies were sprawled out on Hyunjin’s bed, not naked entirely though not fully dressed either – you in only a shirt of his and a pair of lacen panties, him in nothing but his boxers. The December temperatures called for more layers on your skins, even indoors, though the sheets against you and the warmth both bodies emitted – and not less the lovemaking not an hour earlier – was enough to keep you from freezing. You didn’t have the heart to go yet, nor the wish to – you had missed Hyunjin though it’s barely been two days since you’ve last seen him, and you went over your own boundaries if it meant spending more time with him. It was strange, and you were frightened of your lack of backbone, when it came to Hyunjin; you had promised yourself a break from love, from anything regarding it though you couldn’t seem to distance yourself enough from him. Ever since your first touch, the first time your lips had found home on the other your body had ached to be with his own, simply near his. To talk of nothing, to do nothing, but together. Actions far too intimate for your liking – it wasn’t only carnal, not simply sexual attraction as you had hoped; it was love, if you had to name it, and it scared you. It scared you to commit, it scared you, even, to admit to the feelings in the first place – around Hyunjin you pretended to be happy keeping it casual, to be fine calling him over past midnight usually, though every time he left, far into the early morning, with a longing kiss you couldn’t help but wish for more. For having his closure, for having his body next to your own when you awoke hours later, for calling over right then and there, again.

You felt Hyunjin’s touch on your skin, his soft fingertips on your flesh. His breath fell hot against the crook of your neck – his face has been buried in it for the past half hour, wordless and silent, comforting. His breathing was regular, almost in sync with your own, his chest palpably heaving against you, falling to leave you empty, heaving again against your body. His limbs were heavy, lazily sprawled around your own; you weren’t sure if he was sleeping, your hand tangled into his hair an indicator he might be – there wasn’t a day Hyunjin wasn’t slave to your fingers against his scalp. That was the worst part – knowing Hyunjin loved you as much as you loved, and letting him hurt nonetheless. Feeling his affection, his patience, his determination – you admired him, truly; if you were in his place you might have long given up, might have long lost hope. Though maybe you wouldn’t have. If you imagined the roles reversed, if you imagine yourself in a position hopeless and waiting and longing, for a love greater would never be found – you’d stay, too. If it was for him.

Though the roles weren’t reversed, and you found yourself scared, still. Overwhelmed suddenly by Hyunjin’s body so very close to you, the subtle implication of a love you knew he could grant you. Your heart quickened when you realized your utter comfort in his hold, just how much you enjoyed his arms around your waist, his solemn touch on parts no one but him had the privilege of touching – the space between your breasts, where his lips liked to find home, the plush of your thighs, so close to your sex though never quite, the lower of your tummy, thumb merely grazing pubes as his hand danced upon your skin. You enjoyed it all, and far too much.

“I have to go.”

Your body tense when you exclaimed the words which cut through the silence uncomfortably – Hyunjin jerked at your voice, though not having been loud enough to scare him it was stern enough to disturb, let alone the implications of your words. His body imitated yours, tensing up in its’ place, arms tightening around your torso, as though to hold you back, to prevent your parting. His head parted from your neck – it left you terribly cold, too empty. Hyunjin looked at you, perplexed, his dark eyes ones of a puppy, big and pleading, silently asking; for you, for more, for love. It were eyes you so often struggled to deny, a sight you hated to turn down. His hair a mess, his face puffy and reddened by his lips and cheeks, only a hint of colour but enough to turn you weak. You were too invested, too deep into him. Too in love.

You wriggled yourself out of his hold – Hyunjin couldn’t help but loosen his grip on you, finally, though it left you colder than expected, and more desperate for him than ever. You hated parting as much as he did, it hurt you just as deeply as it did Hyunjin. Though you feared that staying would scar you worse in the long run, so you braced yourself, selfishly. You shifted and heaved yourself off the bed, off Hyunjin’s mattress which smelled of vanilla and home, of him, and scrambled together your things. Not all of them, never all of them – you always left something to have an easy excuse to come over, despite not needing one. You took your cherry chapstick laying on his bedside table, the one Hyunjin found himself to love on you, kissing it off whenever applied; your headphones on his table where paintings of flowers and you were scattered all over, shooting a bullet right through the plush of your heart, the tenderness he cared for you with, the pedestal he held you on; your underwear on his floor, bringing bashful colour to your skin, remembering the words Hyunjin had said taking each of them off, over the past weeks – you left merely white underpants draped over his chair you pretended not to see, a necklace on his table you pretentiously thought was his, and a hair tie which could have as well been his own. You cringed over your own pathos.

Hyunjin watched you in the process of collecting and packing your things, entangled in his sheets smelling of your perfume and sex. You didn’t dare look at him; his topless body always portrayed a domesticity you felt like fleeing from, you urged to find comfort in. Hyunjin watched wordlessly, up until the point where you’ve realized you’ve still been wearing his shirt – you took it off, casually, without a second thought before putting on your own, seemingly ready to leave; that was the moment Hyunjin spoke, finally.

“Already? You can stay a bit, you’ve only been here for an hour.”

Desperation in his voice, undeniably. You felt cruel – more so when you looked at him. Half sitting in his bed, eyes calling for you, every fibre of his body longing to hold yours again. He looked inviting, he looked like he could grant happiness if you only allowed it – he looked, therefore, dangerous.

A big sigh from you – you didn’t like to get angry at him, and you weren’t particularly. It was anger credited only to yourself, and though Hyunjin was never at fault it was sometimes directed at him. You hated yourself for it every time anew.

“I can’t… you know I can’t stay.”

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, it was lighter than expected. You never took much over to his place.

Hyunjin sat up fully now, and your eyes directed their attention towards the door – you didn’t lack self-control, though the view of him wasn’t something you were able to resist, nor bear. Because it was frustratingly heart-breaking, because you wanted to drop every bit of your belongings to find yourself in these arms of his, secure and warm, homely. You almost took a step towards it when his voice kept you from your plan again.

“But babe, you-“

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me babe.”

It was your breaking point. Nicknames weren’t a rarity with Hyunjin, though this very moment, when fear of commitment and disappointment nagged at you it was far too much of what you could physically handle. The word sounding so natural, so lovely it was impossible to hold back the tears that prickled behind your lids, a bad omen of the emotions rolling upon you. Confusion, because it was him you wished to be with, fear, because you hurt, frustration, because you didn’t seem to handle the situation remotely well.

Hyunjin was silent, though only for a second. Shocked and he looked like it – it’s not that you had never made a boundary abundantly clear to him, yet this was the first time you sounded truly upset, angered while doing so. Though he wasn’t hurt by it, not by your anger, not by your words, even. He was hurt, for your sake. For the tremble in your voice hinted at your frustration over yourself, at your wish for the situation to be different altogether. He knew you wanted to love him, without fear and hesitation, without having to say goodbye before the sun rose. He hurt knowing you were making it so hard for yourself, despite him being right before you, not even in hand’s reach, but already within your hold.

You stood in his room, unmoving, though not leaving, either. Waiting maybe for an answer, or too cowardly to leave him, after all. Body urging to be with him too much to walk out his home and into your own. You heard him shifting in his bed – you still weren’t looking at him, turned to him sideways, facing the door. You heard his naked feet against his rug-less floor, felt his body closer and closer to your own until you could feel his warmth engulfing you. Suffocating.

“You’re… look at me.”

It wasn’t as much a command as it was a plea. Hyunjin’s voice sounded quiet, careful, as if the littlest wrongdoing would scare you off. Not for today only, but forever. That with an unwanted word you would vanish, as quickly as you had first emerged.

Hyunjin didn’t touch you. He stood inches from you and waited, until you – reluctantly, quite – turned to face him; it was your single downfall. Pain glazed on his irises, lips agape to speak though seemingly unknowing of what exactly. His brows were furrowed, a pained expression painting his face – you despised seeing him this way. He deserved a treatment far better than the one you were torturing him with, one that wouldn’t require him to worry, to hopelessly long, to hurt. You despised seeing him in pain, and you hated yourself most for it.

“You… you could stay, you know.”

Careful, his words merely crawling past his lips and into the room, but a deer caught in the forests and too timid to move. You barely registered his voice at all, as quiet as it was – though when you realized his words, realized, most importantly, the implications behind them your expression changed, your demeanour did. You looked up at him, his face as though waiting for a storm, appalled and frightened, almost. He didn’t deserve your anger.

“Hyunjin you–… you know I can’t. I can’t stay, I’m not– I don’t think I’m ready yet, I–“

Your voice trembled. You didn’t want to cry, not yet. You knew this topic had been inevitable, and you didn’t want to weaken at the very beginning. Though speaking your thoughts aloud instead of thinking them, admitting to what you’ve been trying to deny with such verbosity prior didn’t help your state, nor did the view before you – the man you so badly wanted to call your lover looking as distraught as you were feeling, helpless and enraged now, it seemed. You couldn’t blame him.

Hyunjin was angry. Hurt, and helpless, and angry, not at you, not at himself, even. At Chan, maybe, for having left you so very scarred, at his own cowardness of not having brought up this topic earlier. At the fact he understood and yet couldn’t accept, not when both of you wanted more. And so clearly, at that. It enraged him that you were scared of allowing yourself happiness you well knew he could give you – it brought tears to his eyes.

“You… can’t you see I treat you well? Can’t you see that we’d be happy together– that we are happy together?”

Hyunjin’s voice was nothing but a whisper. Not angry because he bore enough patience to control himself, rather desperate, instead. It broke you more than if he’d screamed at you. But he stood before you, looking smaller than he was, almost begging; for something you didn’t trust yourself able to give.

“I can. I can see we’d be happy… that’s why I’m scared.”

A beat and you looked up at him, his figure hovering over yours, both unmoving, frozen in your place. Hyunjin’s expression changing into one of confusion, pity.

“I was happy with Chan, too, I– I’m scared it’s gonna be the same thing all over again, I–“

“I’m not Chan.”, Hyunjin’s voice stern now, absent of unsureness. “I’m not him, so you don’t have to be scared with me, I–“, hesitation for only a moment as he watched tears roll down your cheeks, silent tears as you held his gaze; he stepped closer, body almost touching your own and his hands reached out, unable to stand separate and he cupped your face, thumb grazing over the wet that kept streaming past your eyes. “I love you. I’ve loved you when I first saw you in that store, and I’ve loved you ever since… you don’t have a reason to be scared with me; I won’t ever not love you.”

Hyunjin’s lips connected to your own before you could say anything else, before you could burst out in helpless sobbing. You cursed Hyunjin for making you love him, for storming into your life and turning it upside down, for never having let go of you – and yet, simultaneously, you couldn’t help but thank the heavens for bringing him to you. Because maybe, if you let yourself, you would learn to love again. You would learn trust anew, would learn peace and domesticity and affection – maybe, if you let go of your fear with Hyunjin right beside you he would teach you to accept love again.

You kissed him back after a moment of hesitation, of hopelessly collecting your thoughts – you couldn’t quite, and kissing him was easier, so you let him. Let him touch your face with delicate fingers, let him move his previously kiss-bitten lips against your own wet ones, tears mixing into hot, damp breaths. Your bag slid off your shoulder and you held him, clung onto his arms as though the loss of contact would take him away from you forever – you couldn’t afford it, nor would you dare to accept it. You let him love you the way he’s always wanted, the way you’ve always deserved and you cried into the kiss, unable to stop tears because unable to truly stop fear. You’d accept him, accept the inevitable because you wanted it just as much, though it surely wouldn’t come without determination, without work. Love and trust wouldn’t emerge suddenly but over time, though you were, finally, ready to welcome both. If it was him by your side.

Hyunjin broke the kiss to look at you, holding you still, never daring to let go. His eyes scanned your face for any sign of reluctance or acceptance – though he’d prefer the latter. And he found one in the way you kept looking at him, wanting, needing, vulnerable. In the way you kept holding onto his body, clawing into his skin, pleading silently. He understood, he kissed you again – slowly this time, secure. Granting you the time you silently pleaded for, making you understand he would gift you all the time in the world, if need be, every bit of patience he contained.

Your bodies moved backwards – never breaking lips’ contact – until Hyunjin’s legs nudged the edge of the bed. He sat slowly, pulling you against him, onto his lap in calm manner; his demeanour was tender, delicate. He was careful. His touch on your body as you softly straddled him was featherlight, fingertips tapping and dancing across your skin while his palms left warmth where they met you, familiar and comfortable warmth you so often had scared away from letting in. Warmth Hyunjin had been granting you all along, patiently – warmth you finally, though not entirely mindlessly, felt ready to reciprocate.

You broke the kiss, sitting atop him still, holding onto his naked shoulders, feeling the weight of his hands on your hips – for the first time since you’ve met him you felt like you were really, truly looking at him. Your lover. Your soulmate. His eyes were dark, pearly, big, laced with so many emotions you wondered how he was able to hold them all within him. There was sadness and agony, passion and love, adoration and frustration and hope and fear, and so much more. Hyunjin’s lips were reddened, dry from panting, chipped from the lack of using balms. His brows were furrowed in question, looking up at you watching him – you never wanted to tear your eyes off him again. You felt like you had wasted time, and you urged to make it quit; you wanted to spend every remaining day, every last second with Hyunjin by your side.

You closed the distance between your bodies again to a kiss. Your lips met Hyunjin’s softly, slowly – you took your time now, trusted a little more now. And he allowed it. Hyunjin allowed for you to take control, let you move against him as slowly as you wished to – opening his mouth when your tongue prodded at his lips, letting your wet muscle dance with his own, let you bite against his plush mouth for only a second before you granted him open-mouthed kisses again, leaving him in utter awe. He’s been wishing for these sort of kisses from you, for ages now – passionate, without hesitation, exploring instead of scaring away from it. He was finally receiving them; and he felt the luckiest man alive.

It took moments to find yourself laying beneath his figure, dressed still. Hyunjin’s hands were roaming across your body – though not too hasty, never fast. His lips engulfed your own, kissed and nibbled at your neck, against your jaw – passionate and soft, utterly adoring. He took his time with you, time you never much allowed him to take, time you had deemed too romantic to accept; you were accepting it now, relishing in the new love you had denied yourself. And it felt nice. Hyunjin’s lips against your skin has never felt so calming, so secure. His touch, the pads of his fingertips atop your body’s’ every inch was salvation, final pleasure. You let him, entirely. Let him explore you, the way he’s never done before. Let him look at you, intently. Let him undress you, slowly. Shirt first, then your pants. You let Hyunjin kiss every inch of skin he exposed, if took him ages to. You let him pour love into every connection with him and your flesh, basked in the way you enjoyed it.

It took a couple further moments before you lay beneath him in the nude. It wasn’t the first time he saw you like that, though now you felt shy, bashful. You almost wanted to hide yourself – it was intimacy you hadn’t experienced in too long. Your body tensed, and Hyunjin noticed. His hand lay on your waist, his right cupping your cheek – he gave you a kiss, long and slow, before locking eyes with you, deep and loving.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you; trust me.”

It didn’t need much more to calm you. Your limbs went slack against the mattress, your hands held onto Hyunjin’s figure as he never stopped peppering you in kisses. His erection pressed heavily against your thigh, though neither of you paid it any mind, for the time being. Hyunjin had never taken this much time with you before – and you had never let him. Only now you noticed how much you had needed it, all along.

It must have been ten minutes when Hyunjin’s tip finally prodded at your entrance. Not demanding, not even needy – simply letting know, and waiting for your move. And you spread your thighs without much hesitation; Hyunjin’s kisses had always been prone to make you breathless and longing, his always lingering touch and the caressing of his fingers he was always so mindful about had never before, nor now, failed to drive you to a point of desperateness. He’d always been a master in coaxing you into him, though only now you welcomed it entirely. Two of Hyunjin’s fingers tested the waters at your wetness, playing with your clit for a mere second – only to feel you squirm beneath him, to hear a whimper of frustration leave your longing lips – before he slowly entered you, waiting several moments after each inch; not that he needed to, not that you weren’t used to his stretch at this point, but still he near tortured you with his pace, slow and leisure.

You felt his every vein within you, his every twitch and pulse that ran through him – and maybe that was his goal – before he finally bottomed out. It elicited a whimper from both of you; Hyunjin buried in your neck, the vibrations of his voice rushing all over your body, your own face by his ear and you gave it a loving nibble, which he sighed at. Your fingers entangled in his locks, your legs wrapped around his torso, not allowing him to move, keeping your lover in place. You had never been this close before, or maybe had never noticed it; you suddenly wanted to catch up on all the lost time you had wasted foolishly. You wanted to feel Hyunjin for a little while longer, wanted to hold him against you until both your bodies grew weak and tired, wanted to lay and simply kiss him for as long as he would allow it. You suddenly needed him entirely and inseparably, and you would go lengths for it.

Hyunjin started moving against your hips, rolling his own into you with delicacy. He had never not been soft with you, though it felt far different now – his hand found home on your face, always cupping your cheek, always locking eyes, as though a fraction more distance would whip you from right beneath him, as though you were a doll made of most fragile glass. You liked it. You enjoyed this side of Hyunjin far more than you had expected to, now that you welcomed it. You spread your legs further for him, granting him more access, more space – he took it gratefully, increasing the speed of his waving thrusts by a bit, only enough to tease, not enough yet to gift full satisfaction. You were a whining mess of needing more, and Hyunjin wasn’t much better – he was moments from losing his composure, from fucking into you with the passion he had held back all the times prior, mindless, now, of the time he wanted to take with you. You were impossible to resist, to not lose sanity over.

It needed you to initiate, though. You enjoyed this side of Hyunjin, now that you didn’t shy away from his loving affection, but your body needed more than what he was not giving you. More passion, more vigour, more him. You rolled your hips up into his, meeting him halfway and the man stuttered in his motions, halting only a second, granting you a quick look before you continued moving in unison — hips crashing against hips, lips upon each other, hands and fingers nothing but glued onto bodies; it didn’t take either of you long until you came simultaneously, limbs trembling, moans choking, panting, faces hidden in necks.

Wetness of tears stood in your eyes; you had only needed to let him in. All the time you had wasted on Chan, the efforts you could have put into Hyunjin all this while frustrating, though fickle now — you knew to find love in him, and to trust whole heartedly.

— 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 :

“But it’s a big thing!! All our friends are gonna be there, I’d take like- let’s do five more bottles.”

You were standing between the aisles of the small store, Hyunjin by your side, gears in his head visibly turning at your suggestion. You had grown to love this expression on him over the past two years of dating — one year and eight months, but who was truly counting —; furrowed brows, pursed lips, looking so very serious over most mundane business. Though, you wouldn’t call Hyunjin’s achievements mundane — you were shopping for a party in order to celebrate your boyfriends’ first own gallery show, one he’d worked for most diligently, right after you’ve developed into an official item. ‘Twin Flame’ — the name of his show, paintings of which he’d said are inspired by you, his very muse, solely; you felt pride swell whenever thought of it.

“You’re right actually, let’s take some more snacks as well.”

The pair of you walked up the aisle of chips — Hyunjin remembered when he had seen you here the first time, when he had felt a gaping hole in his soul suddenly, one that had eased the closer he had moved to you. One that felt truly and entirely stuffed, now that you were his; and you weren’t any different. When you walked outside, déjà vu made you recall the feeling you had felt when Hyunjin had walked past you — lonely, suddenly, pulled towards his heart’s direction. It had been fate, other people would simply call it luck; yet two lovers found themselves within the other, found the missing piece of their ever-longing souls — found, after years of searching, long-lost twin flames.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

@loverikis @iwannabangchan @hwangful @whatudowhennooneseesyou @inkybird @seungminluv3 @skzddicted @berryblog @beautifullywrecked-aeris @moonlightcandy00 @hyynee @nightrayseishina @shrub31201 @snowwy-night @aemondsrhaenyra @hyuneisbae @lovhyunj @ladytrbl @danyxthirstae01 @someoneinlovve @lili-kims-blog @rachagen @koorminii @good-soup3023 @shiru-chan @blahbluhblahbluh @laryisthinking @knisterlicht @studyingthemind @ppiri-bahng @septicrebel @channiesfavoritebrownie @midsoulz @foivetimesacharm @daceyena @yoonguurt @lovingeaglepeanut @hyuneyeon @therealhyunjingf @llunapastell @dreamstarsandskz @baeksofty @143hyunes @fandems @junebug032

#hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #skz smut #skz angst #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines