#I’m starting off my Sunday pretending I’m ‘writing’

[papercorgiworld]

Pansy’s Prediction

After finding out you might not be so innocent the guys make their move. Pansy's prediction: eventually you’ll give in.

Pick your guy Blaise, Mattheo, Draco or Theo+Enzo

This is part two. Read part one here: Pansy’s  Potion. 

Warning: smut, 18+

Yes, you read that right Theo and Enzo are a package deal. Funny how a few weeks ago I couldn’t manage to write a threesome for Matt and Enzo, but now suddenly my brain is like: here’s a random Theo and Enzo threesome. I guess it’s because my brain thinks those two are just incredibly slutty. Anyway, for Blaise, Draco and Mattheo it’s just ‘average’ smut, I mean nothing too unholy, okay with Draco it’s kinda public soo yeahhh. Smutty readings, dears! 

If you read all four scenario's you get a cookie, bc this is 6900+ words of smut!

You make a formal apology and the guys are so annoyed with you. “I was not myself and I promise it will never happen again, I will not in any way behave like I did yesterday evening. I hope you can find it in yourselves to forgive me, so we can go back to how it was before.” Pansy’s grinning eyes move between you and the boys. You drive them crazy and then you just want to pretend like you don’t want them. You stare at them nervously waiting for a response and Blaise is the one that ends your suffering by speaking up, though his voice is hesitant. “Suuure.” Enzo nods with his lips in an awkward line. You wanna leave the room so you make peace with only Enzo and Blaise recognizing your apology and quickly say goodbye.

As soon as you leave the common room the boys openly show their annoyance. “An apology?” Enzo asks offended and Pansy snickers. “Yeah, sorry guys. She’s back to pretending she’s an innocent good girl.” Draco huffs. “No fair.” Theodore lets his head fall back a little. “Can’t believe we missed our one and only chance.” Blaise leans forward and focuses on Pansy. “Is there no way to- you know… get the less innocent version back?” Pansy smirks as all boys stare at her with hopeful eyes. “Well, I guess, if you work hard enough for it… she’ll eventually crack, but the only question is who’ll win her over?” 

Forget about slutty saturday and sunday, because the guys had a plan and it involved… slutty smonday.

Enzo was cheeky, his hair was more perfect than ever and when he sat down next to you in class his perfume had your mind thinking dirty. His hand would brush your thigh ever so often, but when you looked at him, his eyes were focused on the professor. 

Draco was determined, holding doors open for you and carrying your books despite your protests. When he would push a door open for you he would make sure your bodies would touch. In the afternoon he would loosen his tie and his smug smile had you bite your lip. 

Theodore was sneaky. During DADA he spotted the perfect opportunity to become your tutor, standing behind you. His warm breath on your neck as his hand slowly traces up your arm to hold your hand in his to guide you through the spell. You learned nothing and blushed like crazy.

Blaise caught you off guard. You were waiting for Pansy in the slytherin common room so you could study together, when Blaise approached you wearing a shirt that showed his perfectly sculpted body. “About this morning…” He began and you looked startled. “You don’t need to worry about what happened, we’re just glad you’re okay.” You force a smile as you try to relax, but a nervous blush still forms on your cheeks. With a sweet smile Blaise moves closer, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “No need to get so shy, I’m here for you.” His voice had you almost falling to your knees, but you’re not giving in and you turn on your heels.

As you turn around, trying to keep composure, Mattheo walks in, wearing grey revealing sweatpants and clearly nothing else. Your eyes widen, moving from his chest to rest on the shape in his pants for a second too long, making him smirk. “You know-” Mattheo starts, voice smug, but you don’t allow him to speak. “No. No. And no.” You say and hurry out of there, leaving Mattheo and Blaise grinning as they watch you. “Oh, she’s close to breaking point.” Blaise says, very pleased, and Mattheo’s grin turns more devilish. 

Blaise

As Mattheo is still staring at the door through which you left, Blaise spots one of your books and instantly a smirk forms on his lips. Oh, you’ll be back and I’ll be here for you. After a few seconds of staring and silly comments Mattheo puts on a sweatshirt and heads for the astronomy tower. Satisfied with the situation, Blaise lets himself fall on the couch, holding your book as he focuses on the door you’ll be walking through any minute. 

Still flustered, you walk in and notice Blaise flipping through the pages of your book. “Quite interesting.” He says and you reach for the book, but Blaise holds it back forcing you to lean a little bit over him as he still lounges on the sofa. You groan and reach for the book giving Blaise the perfect opportunity to move his hand over your thigh. You feel your whole body heat up and move away a little, but Blaise grabs your wrist pulling you on top of him. You yelp and he smirks, satisfied with the position he’s got you in. “Stop playing, Zabini. Give me my book. I need it for studying.” He laughs and wraps an arm around you, telling you he doesn’t intend on letting you go. “You need it for studying?” He mocks and you narrow your eyes. “How about I help you study? Everyone's gone, we have my dorm all to ourselves.” His eyes are teasing and his tongue hungerly moves over his bottom lip. You can’t help but drown in his eyes as your mind wonders what it would be like to be alone with him. 

Blaise lets the book fall to the floor so his hand can move to your hips as he still holds you close to his chest. “No one needs to know. It can be our little dirty secret.” He whispers as his fingers play with your skirt, pulling the fabric higher. The fact that you’re still resting on top of him tells him enough and he pushes on a little. “Let me take care of you, princess.” He whispers seductively, his lips brushing your ear moving to your cheek. “If you want you can pretend afterwards no none of it happened.” His lips brush yours and instead of pulling away like the smart girl in you wished you would do, you move with his lips allowing him to kiss you tenderly. 

Quick enough a hand moves to the back of your head holding you as he deepens the kiss. When the sloppy kiss turns too heated, Blaise pulls away. “Let’s go study.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively and you push yourself up allowing him to get up and guide you to his dorm. Once there you get cold feet as Blaise locks the door and you quickly turn around to face him. ”Maybe this was a mista-” You fall silent as Blaise pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his perfect body. A smug smile tugs on his lips as he lets his shirt fall to the floor and moves closer to you. His suggestive eyes meet yours and you let him close the distance between you two. “Still having second thoughts?” He whispers teasingly, leaning down to place a sloppy kiss on your lips as his hands roam your back, hips and ass. 

While kissing you passionately, he picks you up and instinctively you wrap your legs around him. He walks you over to his bed, gently laying you down before tracing kisses down your neck while undoing the buttons of your shirt. Hands exploring your chest and earning a sweet moan from you as you lay on his bed enjoying his hands and lips moving along your skin. With his mouth teasing your nipples his hands wiggle your skirt and panties down, before moving his tongue to your bellybutton and kissing down to your pussy. 

You squirm as his kisses close in on your bare cunt, but Blaise shushes you and his hands stroke your thighs making you moan involuntarily. You can feel his smirk against your skin and you bite your lips to keep yourself quiet not wanting to show how sensitive to his touch you really are. However, your efforts are pointless when he kisses your folds and inserts a finger, instantly making you grip the sheets as pleasure rushes through you. You had no idea how badly you needed this man until now. You bite down on your lips to muffle the desperate sounds that escape you. “Blaise-” You softly whine as a weak protest as he plays with your sensitive cunt. Needing more of his touch you hesitantly move your hips and he eagerly gets rougher, making you squirm again and forcing him to hold you still. His hand reaches for one of yours, still clinging to the sheets. He entangles his free hand with yours showing you love while forcing an orgasm onto you by fucking your pussy with his fingers and tongue. 

You arch your back as you softly cry his name, unable to control yourself as you climax with his mouth still working your soaking cunt hard. “Look at that.” Blaise whispers, grinning as he crawls over you, leaving sloppy kisses on your breasts before meeting your lips. “You got there fast. You must’ve really needed it.” His eyes smugly search to meet yours, but as soon as they do you look away. You were not in the mood for slytherin arrogance. Your hand traces down to the bulge in his pants. “I bet you really need it as well.” You whimper as he kisses the sweet spot of your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll sling your legs over my shoulder and I’ll let your perfectly wet pussy take care of me.” His words have you roll your eyes and arch your back as he sucks at your neck, while unbuckling his belt with one hand. 

A cry that almost sounded like yelp escapes you at the size of he reveals and your whole body heats up as his grinning eyes look up at you. “Way to boost a guy’s confidence.” Blaise jokes and you’re ready to hide out of embarrassment. His large hands move up and down your thighs as he takes a good position between your legs. Your body tenses as his length sinks into your cunt, his eyes are focused on your entrance and a smirk spreads on his lips as he sees you take all of him. A soft gasp from you causes him to shift his gaze at you and you meet his eyes. He smirks at your flustered face and parted lips. He could see in your eyes and in every expression that you loved the feeling of him inside of you. He leans down to peck your lips and your hand traces his torso, making him smile lovingly at your touch. 

“Tell me what you need, darling.” His low whisper as your cunt throbbing and your head spinning. You shake your head, reluctant to sound like a needy girl. The smirk on his face grows filthy and his hand moves up and down your thigh. Getting impatient for an answer since his dick was painfully hard Blaise moves his lips to your ear. “Do you want me to fold you and fuck you?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his guttural voice. When Blaise locks his eyes with yours you sheepishly nod, but that doesn’t do it. “Talk to me baby.” He demands and his hand moves to play with your nipple rather roughly as punishment for not answering his question and you gasp. “Fuck me, Blaise, please fuck me.” You whine and he takes in the view and your words for a moment, before he moves your legs to rest on his shoulder and grabs your hips. 

His thrusts are deep and he grunts at the wonderful feeling your walls provide, increasing his pace as a reward for having such a wonderful cunt. Your mouth hangs agape as your stomach fills with pleasure and your mind gets hazy as Blaise pushes you towards your climax. Being in perfect shape Blaise holds a steady pace for quite some time, but he knows you're close and he himself is desperate to cum with you. Like having your knees almost pressed to your chest was enough, Blaise rests a hand on your belly increasing the pressure as he thrusts deep into you. Sure other people knew what was going on by the sounds coming from the room, his hips slamming against yours, you crying his name as you cling to his biceps and Blaise’s heavy grunts as he feels himself lose control. A painful cry escapes you as your orgasm hits you and your clenching walls have Blaise spill and almost immediately collapse on you. “Fuck, you’re something else.” Blaise breaths and your watery eyes meet his, he made you feel like a goddess in more than one way.

Carefully Blaise slips out of you, before grabbing some tissues for the both of you and falling down next to you on the bed. “Our little dirty secret, right?” You ask Blaise, referring to what he had said earlier. Blaise smiles at the ceiling and then rolls over to face you. “Yeah.” He cups your cheek and pecks your lips. “You’re my dirty little secret.” No way this was going to be a one time thing.

Mattheo

Still flustered, you curse yourself when you realise that you forgot your book. For several seconds you contemplate on whether to go back or just give up on your plans to study tonight. However, you really wanted to revise your material before tomorrow's class so reluctantly you turned around heading back to the slytherin common room. You are almost there when you suddenly hear Mattheo’s smug voice.  “Change your mind?” Immediately your face heats up, he still hadn’t bothered to dress properly and it bothered you in more than one way. Smirking, Mattheo approaches your nervous figure. “I- I forgot my book.” You finally manage to say and Mattheo nods, far from impressed by your answer. “Sure, that’s all you want?” His eyes suggestively scan you from head to toe, before resting on your lips. Your chest heaves as your mind runs crazy with all things you really want, but you nod. “Just my book.” You bravely, but calmly say. 

Mattheo watches you for a second and you have no idea what’s going on in his mind, but suddenly he pushes you against a door of a broom closet. “I don’t believe you.” He whispers, agitated and obviously hungry for you. You gasp as your back collides with the door, giving him the opportunity to crash his lips onto yours and move his tongue to dominate yours, while simultaneously opening the door and pushing into the privacy of the broom closet. “I think you want me as badly as I want you.” You hold onto the shelves behind you for stability as Mattheo grinds his dick between your legs while aggressively kissing and sucking your lips. One hand kneading your breast as his other hand has a firm hold of your thigh, so you have one leg wrapped around his hips, giving him perfect access to rub his hardening member against your pussy. Your breaths get unsteady and you stop resisting the moment, allowing your hand to rest on his bare chest as the other entangles with his pretty curls, while he bruises your neck with hungry kisses. Vocal moans of pure pleasure escape you as Mattheo plays with every sweet spot your body has.

“I need you noisy.” Mattheo breathes, pulling away from your neck to ravish your mouth and making you moan against his lips. You can feel him smirk against your lips and as much as you hate it, it turns you on even more. You try to subtly buck your hips against his demanding more friction, but the gentle move doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re far from innocent. Do you want me to fuck you?” Mattheo’s voice is filthy, he’s so pleased to have you needing him. “Tell me, do you want me, love? Do you want me to have my way with you?” His husky whisper and hot breath on your skin has you whimper and cling to his neck, eyes needy and drowning in his. You nod. “Please.” You whisper and as much as Mattheo wants you to say it again, louder or even scream it and beg for it, he himself is too desperate to tease and taunt. 

“Be a good girl and let me hear you.” He whispers, lips against your ear before getting to his knees, eyes never leaving yours. His hands move up your legs, slowly, and still his eyes stay locked with yours. He wants to see everything that you feel, every sensation that runs through you. You make a soft sound when his hands move up your thighs and reach your panties. Anticipation fills you as he pulls them down slowly, while he leaves gentle kisses up your thighs closing in to your cunt. Another moan slips as your whole body tenses at Mattheo’s soft lips only inches/centimetres away from your desperate entrance. “Please.” You moan when you get impatient, purposely sounding as needy as possible knowing that he wouldn’t be able to resist. And you were right, if you beg and sound as sweet as you do, Mattheo is more than willing to comply. His mouth moves between your legs, tongue slipping through your folds, hands grabbing onto you to keep you from squirming when he digs in hard, tongue playing with your clit.

He wanted you noisy, he needed you to come for him. To him it was like his pride depended on it. So there was nothing sweet about how he works your sensitive throbbing cunt, he was mercilessly devouring you while getting rock hard at every moan or whimper that filled the room. When you feel yourself get closer your legs get shaky and your breaths unsteady, making him take full control of your body pressing you against his face and making you yelp as his tongue flicks at your sensitive spot. That desperate sound makes Mattheo moan against your pussy. That groan of a moan has you throw your head back and give in to all the feelings building up, whining as Mattheo tastes your juices not giving you a moment's rest. He loved how messy he had gotten you, the usually so perfect behaving girl.  

Part of you was relieved when he moved away, allowing you to breathe, but you miss his touch quickly and your eyes look soft, but still sparkle enough to make Mattheo grin. His dick was painfully hard and seeing you out of breath but still in need, made him almost spill in his pants. He was over the moon that he could fuck you right here and now, but he wouldn’t let you see how overjoyed he was and kept a filthy smirk up. “I want you naked.” He demands eyes locked with yours as his hand moves to his sweatpants. His demanding voice bothers you but you want his touch and you want his dick. Your eyes fall to his hard cock, clearly visible through the fabric, and without meeting his eyes you slip off your clothes as Mattheo watches, touching himself.

Now fully naked, Mattheo closes the distance between you two and rests his head against yours. “Fuck, you’re gorgious.” He breaths, voice dominant and yet adoring. He drops his pants revealing his size, pumping himself a few times and soaking his hand in precum. You spread your legs a little, resting against the shelves of the small broom closet as Mattheo grabs your thigh, lifting you as he lets his tip explore your soaking folds. You throw your head back at his perfect touch and he groans at the feeling and the view. The moment is intimate as Mattheo is gentle, almost careful, with you when he moves deep inside of you, stretching your walls and making you whimper. He watches your every expression as he keeps on pushing until he’s settled deep. A soft breath leaves you and he feels himself fall in love with your perfection. He leans closer his free hand cupping your face and kissing you tenderly. 

However, Mattheo's eyes quickly move to your chest and then lower to your pussy filled by him. His hands grips the flesh of your ass, so he has a firm hold on you. His hard grip has you gasp and a smirk tugs on Mattheo’s lips as he starts rocking slowly and ever so gently increasing the pace, making sure you get maximum pleasure from every thrust. You cling to the shelves behind you when Mattheo gets rougher, stretching you deep and hitting you right. “You need this, you want this so bad, don’t you?” His voice is dirty and he doesn’t just move, he’s so consumed by the moment that he starts slamming you on him. Your eyes scan his sweaty and panting body as he works so hard to give you all of him. “Mattheo.” You breathe in between soft blissful moans and his eyes shoot up to yours, dark and having you guessing what he’s thinking. “Again.” He whispers as a gentle demand and you comply, doing your best to move your hips with him as you allow yourself to shamelessly moan his name, turning him on even more. You were becoming too much to handle for him. He almost felt the urge to beg for you to come or even to just allow him to come. Luckily for him, your shameless moans reveal how close you are to your orgasm. 

“Matt- ah- I’m so-” He doesn’t let you finish as your voice pushes him too close and he starts pounding into you even harder. “That’s okay, love, come- fuck, please.” He can’t believe he actually begged. He’s a mess and so are you and almost simultaneously you reach your high. Panting, he lets himself fall against you and holds your unstable body as he slips out of you, making you hide your face in the crook of his neck. For several minutes your naked bodies just stay entangled in one another, enjoying the pleasure rush through your body. Slowly, you feel Mattheo’s smirk grow against your cheek. “There’s no denying it now. You want this and you need me.” You ignore his arrogant tone and just continue to rest your arms around his neck and his around your body. “Just admit it, so I can take care of you and we can freshen up together.” Mattheo kisses your cheek softly. “Must you gloat like this?” You huff, still hiding your flustered face and he smiles. “Yes.” God, you loved that raspy, smug voice of his. Neither of you were ready to admit it, but you were down bad for each other.

For Drace, Theodore and Enzo continue reading here

You had apologised and then made it your mission to avoid them for the rest of the day. Despite the guys' attempts, you had kept your composure pretty good. However, Snape was about to ruin it. 

“Out of all the people Snape could’ve paired me with…him.” Pansy snorts at your complaint. “Might get interesting…” Her smile and eyes are devilish and you instantly get more worried than you already were.

Draco

It was late and you were not in the mood for more of Draco’s smugness, but there was no escaping Snape’s project so you headed for the library to meet Draco. It took you a while to find him since he had picked a secluded spot on the first floor of the library. He wasn’t wearing his tie anymore, his hair was a little messy and shirt was partly unbuttoned. He had obviously already done some of the work since he was surrounded by books on the topic. When he noticed you approaching, a bright smile tugged on his lips and you rolled your eyes. When he noticed that he just couldn’t keep quiet. “Not as excited to see me as you were yesterday?”

You took a seat opposite of him and stared at him unamused trying to play tough and not get flustered. “You’ve done some work already?” You ask, changing the subject and gesturing to the books. “Yes, I was hoping if we get it done quickly we can have another dance, I did love the way you moved last night.” This time you try to look stern, but fail, feeling too embarrassed about how you had thrown yourself at him. Clearly remember now how you grinded against him in the middle of the dance floor. “There’s no need to be embarrassed about it, I said I loved it.” He gets up from his chair and you open one of the books to avoid his gaze. “Let’s just focus on the assignment, okay.” You mutter and Draco can’t help but think you’re adorable, blushing and muttering. 

He sits down next to you, but you pretend to read the page in front of you while Draco studies your face. You feel his breath on your cheek as he leans closer to your ear. “And what if I told you, I had already finished it.” His whisper makes you look up at him and suddenly you feel his hand on your thigh. “Draco-” You protest with a soft voice, but Draco ignores it and crashes his lips against yours. His tongue moves over your bottom lip begging for entrance and instinctively you give in to him, simultaneously encouraging him to move his hand on your thigh, stroking you gently. 

You pull away after a moment, but Draco’s lips follow you, his nose brushing yours and eyes locked with yours. “This- I- We can’t.” You whisper barely audible and Draco notices your face head up like crazy. His hand moves under your skirt and you gasp, allowing him to sneak in his tongue and kiss you with eager passion. “We can, you just have to keep quiet.” Draco whispers and you feel his hand tug your panties, but instead of protesting you lean closer to him and kiss him hungrily. He moves one finger slowly through your folds, teasing, while his free hand holds your head to deepen the breathless kiss. However, he doesn’t tease long and you feel him mercilessly exploring your pussy and adding another finger to stretch you. You pull your lips away and gulp as he circles your sensitive clit and his mouth urgently finds yours again to keep you quiet. 

Though there weren’t a lot of people that could hear you, Draco knew well enough it only needed to be heard by one to have the entire school know what you two were up to in the library late at night. Mattheo or Theo probably wouldn’t have cared, but Draco respected and maybe even loved you too much to have your reputation ruined by something like this. Yet he wasn’t going to stop playing with you either, he just had to keep you quiet. When you feel yourself get closer at the pace of his fingers moving you hide your face in his neck, softly biting the flesh of his shoulder to keep yourself from moaning, only whimpering softly. Never had Draco had someone so pretty and perfect cling so desperately to him and he loved it as much as it aroused him, making a deep moan roll over his lips as he rested his head against yours. 

You did not know how turned on you could get by a man, until you heard Draco moan like that. In an instant you decided that his fingers weren’t enough. Without thinking about the location you were in, you look up at Draco, eyes needy for him. “I want to sit on your cock.” You whisper and his eyes widen at your blunt suggestion, did he really hear you say that? With his lips parted in shock he nods, leaning back a bit to give you space to move out of your seat. As you get up Draco unbuckles his belt still staring at you in disbelief, but also eager to move his pants down and reveal his hard dick to you. He wanted you so bad and he was about to have you. Blushing and still a little shy you look at his hard member, feeling your pussy throb at the side of his size. 

Slowly and a little insecure about the whole situation while also so desperate to have him deep inside of you, you rest one hand on his shoulder and straddle him. Your free hand moves your panties to the side and Draco holds his size, guiding it inside of you as you sink down on him. “Fuck. You’re-” You interrupt him by placing a finger on his lips to remind him that in a library you have to be quiet. His hand moves to the back of your head and he pulls you in for a tender but intense kiss. 

In an attempt to stay quiet you decide to move slowly, making the moment between you two more intimate. Watching you throw your head back and bite your lip as you ride him slowly but hard has Draco’s fingers digging into your hips as he feels himself get closer really quickly. Shamelessly you grind on his dick, pleasing yourself with every move you make, while simultaneously enjoying Draco’s hungry eyes on you. 

You both struggle to reduce your moans to soft whimpers, but as you reach your high your eyes get teary as you're forced to keep quiet. Draco notices and crashes his lips onto yours for a sloppy and needy kiss as he bucks his dick a few times, hitting your soft spot hard and deep, pushing you over the edge. Soft cries get muffled by Draco’s hungry kiss. Your walls clench around Draco’s cock and he continues to thrust into you, less and less worried about the sounds others might hear. Soon enough he cums, slamming himself deep inside of you and wrapping his arms around you as you both enjoy the ecstasy of your orgasm. After several minutes of panting in each other's arms, Draco gives you a soft kiss on your temple. “Not that I would mind being seen with you, but I think we should pack up and maybe head to a room, mine or yours.” You chuckle, still not really believing what had just happened, what you had done… with Draco Malfoy of all people. “We need to finish our potions project.” You blur out as your mind starts to focus on reality again. Draco cups your cheek and forces you to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, I did all the work so you just have to put your name on it.” You frown at his words and he smirks. “Don’t worry about it, you did your part by doing all the other work.” You roll your eyes at his suggestive comment, but when his lips search for yours you meet him for a sweet kiss. 

Theodore + Enzo

“Enzo!” Theodore yells as Enzo walks in wearing only a towel. “What are you doing here? (y/n) will be here any moment.” Enzo fakes a surprised look. “Oh! No! I totally forgot about that.” Theodore grits his teeth, seeing through Enzo’s little act. “You sneaky bastard, you are not stealing this opportunity. Snape partnered her up with me, this is ‘my’ chance to win her over.” Lorenzo stops acting innocent and grins. “Worried this will steal your potions partner away from you.” He gestures at his toned body and low hanging towel, making Theodore roll his eyes at his friend.

Just then you knock at the door. “Yes.” Enzo says one split second before Theodore says “No!”. Angry eyes shoot up to Enzo, but there’s no time for Theo to do anything about Enzo’s presence now as you open the door. Your eyes immediately land on the half naked Enzo grinning at you and you narrow your eyes in confusion. Theodore loses his mind when he notices you only have eyes for Enzo and in a desperate attempt to make you look away he takes off his shirt and his plan works because now your eyes are on him, which makes Theo smirk, proud of his genius. 

“Yeah. Not happening.” You say and turn around, making both guys panic. “No, no.” Theodore says as he closes the door before you reach it. He leans against the door and you watch him with stern eyes, but it’s Enzo who speaks. “Look the deal was you drank the potion to sober up and we do whatever you want.” You don’t turn around to look at Enzo, but just stare at the doorknob. Theodore closes the distance between you two, leaving no space between you two. “It’s okay to want it, we’ll be good to you.” His hands cup your face and make you look up at him, eyes locking so there’s no escaping the truth. Enzo holds his breath as he can feel himself get way too excited at the thought of the both of them actually having you. 

You don’t answer, but you make no move to leave and that’s enough for them to know you want it as bad as they want it. Enzo moves to stand behind you. Shameless pressing his hard dick against you, hands move over your hips to your thighs. “Kiss him.” Enzo says and Theo leans in, knowing you’ll obey. The kiss is passionate and Theo’s tongue is eager to dominate, while Enzo’s hand slips between your thighs and pushes your panties aside, making you hold onto Theo’s shoulders for support. You moan as Enzo’s finger moves between your folds and Theodore allows you to breathe for a second to take in the view before his hands move under your shirt to knead your breasts. As soon as another helpless moan leaves you his lips are on yours again. 

Meanwhile Enzo’s fingers don’t stop playing with your clit as he rubs his hard dick against you. “Tell us, what did you want us to do last night?” Theo whispers, intense eyes focused on yours. You hesitate and Theodore brushes your cheek, while Enzo presses himself closer to you. “Tell us, sweetheart.” Enzo whispers. You’re not brave enough to use your words but your eyes and hand move down to the bulge in Theodore’s pants and he smirks. Enzo’s hand leaves you and Theodore takes a step away from you, unbuckling his pants, making you whimper at the sight of his large size. Enzo still stands behind you with an arm around you as you watch Theodore sit on his bed and jerk his hard member. Enzo kisses your neck, while working on the buttons of your shirt, before getting impatient and just tearing your shirt off. You moan and throw your head back as Enzo takes off your bra and plays with your breasts, while Theo watches, eyes hungry. Fuck, you’re a view.

“If you suck him nice and good, I’ll take care of that desperate pussy of yours.” Enzo’s fingers play with your nipple earning him a whiny moan and taking that as yes to his proposition. Theodore moves on the bed as Enzo guides you towards his friend. Theodore reaches for you, kissing you and cupping your breasts as you crawl on the bed with Enzo right behind you, his hand moving under your skirt and squeezing your ass. Theodore’s fingers entangle with your hair and move your head down to his cock, while Enzo has a firm grip on your hips keeping your ass up so he can easily snake a hand between your legs. Your throbbing clit is victim to Enzo’s endless teasing and playing as you do your best to take as much of Theodore's length as you can, while Theo’s free hand rubs your nipple between his fingers. 

It only takes seconds to turn you into a whimpering and moaning mess as both men play with every part of you, overstimulating you. Your walls clench around Enzo’s fingers, soaking them with your juices. As your orgasm runs through you, your eyes get teary and Theodore pulls you away from his dick to kiss you, but Enzo doesn’t stop and you whine into the kiss. “Do you want him to fuck you?” Theo asks and with watery eyes you nod, ignoring your sensitive cunt in favour of your needy core. A filthy smirk spreads on Theodore lips as his eyes drown in your needy ones. “You like being fucked like a doll, played with like your our toy?” Theodore taunts and you whine as Enzo’s fingers leave your pussy. “Such a desperate little girl with a needy pussy. ‘you gonna take me so good.” Enzo says with a dirty sound to his voice that has you look at Theodore, begging for mercy you know you’re not gonna get because they know you don’t really want it. With a hungry force Enzo rips off your skirt and panties.

Theo moves your head back down as your eyes stay focussed on his smirk. Enzo moans as he pumps himself, before lining himself up with your entrance. You whimper with Theo’s dick in your mouth when Enzo pushes himself deep inside of you. You try your best to focus on sucking Theo’s member, but as soon Enzo starts thrusting immediately keeping a steady pace the best you can do is let Theo bob your head and take him deep every time he bucks his hips needing more. Your moans turn to desperate whimpers, signalling to both Slytherins that you’re close to your second orgasm. With haste Theodore starts fucking your mouth searching his own high so he can come with you. It’s Theodore’s breathy moans that push you over the edge, your body squirm as pleasure washes over you and your walls clench around Enzo’s cock. Theo orgasms only seconds after you, leaving cum dripping from your mouth. “So pretty.” Theodore's hoarse voice whispers as his thumb moves over your lip, holding your chin so you meet his eyes, while your pussy is still taking Enzo from behind you. Theo’s eyes look soft as his mind is still hazy from the high he had just felt. Your eyes are glassy as Enzo has you building up to a third orgasm, hitting you right with every thrust, groaning as he struggles to keep a steady pace, feeling the need to spill inside your tight cunt.

“Fuck.” Enzo breathes, taking you harder each time, making your moans sound like desperate cries. “Fuck. She sounds beautiful.” Enzo says with a heavy breath, making Theodore smirk in agreement as he watches you. “Yeah.” Theo whispers watching your flustered face, orgasm building. You're too overwhelmed to notice Theodore’s smirk turn into a filthy grin, before he moves away from you. “Just spill, Enz. I bet she wants both of us to fill her.” Theo’s words make you sink your head into the sheets as you feel your body get more desperate for another release. Mercilessly pounding into you Enzo searches his own high, turning your moans pornographic as his body repeatedly smacks against yours. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Theo jerk himself like a madman watching Enzo fuck you. Out of breath Enzo pushes deep inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum and enjoying your walls clench as he climaxes. 

You can already feel Theo’s hand trace your body as Enzo slowly pulls out, leaving your soaked but needy cunt aching for release, but also sensitive and overstimulated. You can’t help but instinctively squirm at Theo’s touch, but when Enzo lets himself fall next to you his soft shiny eyes relax your body. He looks blissful adoring your flustered face and he pulls your face closer to his to passionately kiss you as Theo’s large hands grab the flesh of your asscheeks while aligning his thick cum dripping cock with your throbbing pussy. You bury your head in Enzo’s gentle embrace as Theo pushes you towards another climax. “Salazar, you’re perfect like this.” Enzo whispers in your ear as you make soft noises, while a smirking Theo takes you hard, quickly cumming inside. “Satisfied now that your needy cunt is filled by both of us?” You hear Theo ask with a dirty dominant tone and you squirm closer to Enzo’s soft embrace, too embarrassed that you let both men come inside of you. 

Theo leans over you to cover your naked body with a soft blanket, but as vulnerable as you look he can’t help but tease a little more. “Nothing left of that innocent act of yours, you're our little slut now.” You feel Theo’s soft lips place a gentle kiss on your cheek and Enzo squeeze you a little closer, biting his lip still enjoying the wonderful experience. 

Requested tags for this one: @lauramjcmanus @whiteoakoak @bri-mercado-00 @adreamingpendulum

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #blaise zabini #papercorgiworldwritings #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagine #lorenzo berkshire #theo nott #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy

[elsweetheart]

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

synopsis: when reader, the millionaires daughter can’t help but misbehave — Abby the no nonsense bodyguard is hired to live in the mansion.

♪ every man gets his wish — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: fem reader, mentions of money / money problems, overprotective parents, mentions of loss of a parent (not reader), daddy issues lol, sprinkle of mommy issues too, alcohol and drinking, tiny mention of being sick, reader working out mentions, brat tamer abby lol, size kink, reader cries and gets humiliated and angry a lot lol, degradation, masturbation, strap on sex, think that’s it?

an: i had so much fun writing this! this is the quickest i’ve ever written a fic, i think because i’ve been excited to write this one and planning it for ages! now, if you don’t like my writing please click off now. no one is forcing you to read my fics. to all the people who have been excited for this fic, ily and i hope you enjoy it! as always, minors + ageless blogs do not interact with this or any posts / fics of mine. you will be blocked! ♡

You weren’t a princess. You were not a princess. You wished you were, shit — maybe your parents would actually care about you. Unfortunately though, there was no royalty behind your name. Just two millionaire parents who would apparently rather be anywhere else but at home with you.

You had your own hobbies, friends, a life — back at home. But of course, if you had so much as wanted to leave the mansion to partake in such activities, such as socialising (God forbid!) you’d need an escort, a driver, secret security officers stalking you, creeping out all of your friends and more. After a while it just became… not worth it. So you stopped showing up, stopped hanging out with people — and understandably, your invite to meeting up with friends started to get supposedly lost in the post. Things get lonely fast.

Bitterness was hardly the word for it. You understood your circumstances and if you were anything it wasn’t ungrateful. Your father only wanted you to be safe, hence the dozens of hired body guards in and out (But you’ll get back to that in a moment, of course.) Your friends just assumed you didn’t wanna hang out anymore, hence the missed invites. You had only started misbehaving out of bitterne— no, not bitter. Pissed off. Rightfully.

You always felt dread when you saw the answer machine light up red with a new message from the only person who had the number — your father. Where on Earth could he be calling from this time? Perhaps lounging by the pool in Greece or dining at a rooftop garden in Dubai — experiencing the world and bravely taking a moment out of his incredibly busy day to drop you a patronising and vaguely threatening voicemail. Atleast he spoke to you, unlike your mother who’d much rather pretend you didn’t exist because, and you quote, the stress of your misbehaviour ‘gave her wrinkles.’ Your manicured finger hovered over the button before pressing down, huffing out your nose as you stared out at the morning fog over the grassy hills of your land.

‘Good morning darling, dad calling again. You keep missing my calls, which I assume is on purpose so I’m leaving you a message anyways. I’m currently in Amsterdam with your mother and I just caught wind of Malakai the bodyguard quitting ‘suddenly and abruptly’ according to one of the maids. I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, if you don’t stop harassing the guards and forcing them to quit you will be in serious trouble. I mean cut off completely, sent off to work in the city with no more than a shitty little apartment and no money. So, I have decided to give you one last chance. I’ve purchased a bodyguard to live in with you starting Sunday morning so you’re going to have to fend for yourself until then. I searched high and low for this one, apparently they specialise in poorly behaved brats like yourself — so I’m hoping if anything that will whip you into shape. You’ve been through five bodyguards this year and it’s February. I’m serious about my threats. Step a foot out of line and you’re done, your mother and I are deadly serious. I will be calling the new hire at the end of next week to check in on your behaviour. Do not let us down darling, you will regret it. Okay, that’s all. See you when I see you.’

You smile.

Oh, how sometimes things just worked out. A life of your own, with normality and struggle and freedom — no watchful eye breathing down your neck and no lack of purpose weighing down on you. Your father had presented you with the easiest task, piss off the new hire so that you’d be set free. A task you’d grown to perfect, having done so time and time again.

The crackle of wheels on the gravel path leading up to the mansion awakens you on the Sunday morning. You want to grumble, having gotten literally no sleep. You see, you were terribly afraid of the dark — and you couldn’t sleep without your guard having light the fire in the fireplace of your bedroom (The one use you found for the hired help.) You had no idea how to light it and didn’t trust yourself not to burn the house down — so you went without. Hence the awful nights sleep. Where were you? Yes, curious. Rudely awakened and curious.

Your short nightie does nothing to combat the cool morning chill as you get up from the bed, letting your bed covers slide off your body as you traipse over to your window. A black Range Rover, they’re all the same. All the same angry men that drive the same angry car, with the same angry build and the same angry face. You scoff at the memory of your fathers threat on the voice message, stating that this guard was to be anything you weren’t used to before. You knew it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Except, you were caught off guard when the door opens. You watch a woman climb out the car, despite the vehicles spacious design she still seemed to unfold like she was inflatable as she climbed out — almost seeming too big for even a car like that. She was built, strong arms and chest, tree trunk thighs and veiny hands. You narrow your eyes at the black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her jagged nose, taking them off as she looks around with a serious expression. She was attractive, you’d admit — but in a way that made you cross. That stupid skin tight black t-shirt and black cargos and thick weighty belt around her waist told you everything you needed to know about her. The militant type, she was going to try and intimidate you with her seriousness. You smirk, seeing this as a challenge. She has no idea what she’s up against.

You rush down the spiral stairs at the sound of her lugging her bags inside. She flicks her braid over her shoulder to glance at you standing there analytically as she does so, biceps bulging as she lifts the heavy black cases into the centre of your foyer stood beneath the chandelier. She looked much too harsh for somewhere delicate like this.

“I take it you aren’t going to introduce yourself.” She speaks after a moment of sorting her bags, closing the front door to signify she was done bringing her things inside. You cling to the tall bannister, toeing the cold pristine marble floor, eyeing her and her things as if each bag had a bomb inside. She stands up to her full height, atleast breaching the 6ft margin and you squint, watching her stretch her arms to relieve herself from the weight of the bags. “Off to a great start already.” She retorts as you ignore her, her long legs stepping over a black duffle bag on the floor toward you.

“Why are your bags so heavy?” You ask quietly, less curious and more judgemental. Who did she think she was moving in here with all that stuff? She takes a long inhale, accenting the muscle in her chest as she places her hands on her hips. Her reply is calm and unbothered.

“I brought my weights with me, and lots of other things I need to stay in my condition. Do you have a name?” Her voice is velvety and more feminine than you expected. Your stomach gets hot and prickly at the sound.

“You know my name. I can bet anything my father told you everything about me infact.” You jut your chin up stubbornly. It’s her turn to analyse now, tilting her head a little to the side as she leans on her hip, eyeing you once over and then again.

“Yeah. Your dad was kind enough to tell me all about you and how you treated your past bodyguards. But when you first meet someone, you introduce yourself. So introduce yourself.” There is a slight bite to your tone and your eyes flutter a bit. You’re used to men being agitated with you, infact you thrive off it— but you’ve never had a woman guard before. Something about the harsh tone hurt you just that little more. Shit, maybe you just had mommy issues.

You mutter your name, eyes laser focused on her clinging to the last shred of dignity you had — but when she gives you a curt nod and an equally quiet ‘There you go’ it perishes in the wind like a dying leaf crumbling away for winter. She turns, looking around at her bags before reaching over for the smallest one. “I’m Abby. As you probably guessed, I’m your new bodyguard.” She walks over to you and holds out the bag. You look at her and then at the bag, and then back at her.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Abby?” You cross your arms with a raised brow.

“You’re gonna carry it to my new room for me. I’m a guest in your home.” She raises her eyebrows, waving the bag infront of you signally for you to take it.

You stare at her in disbelief, before laughing bitterly. “You’re right. You’re a guest in my home. So I’m not carrying shit.” You spin on your heel to stomp up the stairs, but she cuts you off by speaking calmly yet firmly.

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

You turn back around slowly, wearing a frown that creases your brow. How did she know about that?

“I spoke to some previous guards of yours. Said you were terrified of the dark and needed a fire lit in your room every night. Y’wanna sleep in dark? Or you wanna help me carry my bags?”

You stare her down for a moment, weighing out your options. She’d already dominated the conversation by getting your name out of you so easily, and now she was winning again. However, you were exhausted just from one night of restlessly pacing with your light on — too afraid to turn it off and go to sleep. You needed your sleep. That being said, you scowl and snatch the bag from her hand, the leather of it slapping against your leg as you carry it up the spiral stairs.

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

The week begins, and as do your antics. Abby wasn’t easily wound up, but that only made you want to go ten times harder. She was a bodyguard, not a babysitter — but she was starting to feel like her duties were beginning to cross wires. She knew your game, knew you were aiming for something — she could see the determination in your eyes everytime you’d sass her back. So, she’d play you back. Not give into what you want.

Her first real duty came on a Wednesday when she was lounging in the living room watching some God awful 2000s police chase show, and in came you — tottering on little heels and a skirt so short and tight she could tell the colour of your thong beneath. Not that she was looking, of course.

She leant her arm on the back of the couch, eyes flitting over you as you rummage for the keys that you were sure had been left by the maid on the coffee table. “Going somewhere?” It comes out nearly as a scoff, smirk etched onto her face and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Out with my friends. The ones that still talk to me.” You’re distracted, pulling your small handbag back up onto your shoulder when it slides off, free hand feeling around in a decorative bowl for the key set. Abby stares at you for a moment, which — okay, is a little indulgent. She wasn’t being a creep, she could just appreciate that you looked good. Before you could turn to throw a glare her way she was muttering an ‘alright’ and heaving her heavy, toned body up to stand and stretch.

You turn and look at her questioningly and she stops to return your gaze. “What? You think I’m just living here with you for fun? C’mon, if you wanna go let’s go.” She nods towards the door, but stops after a few steps when she hears you snicker.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

She crosses her arms and the smirk that makes you wanna throw darts at her stupid face returns. “That right? You think daddy just hired me to hang out around the house, then?”

You stare at her, pursing your lips before exhaling through your nose wordlessly — walking towards the door in defeat. You just wanted to go out, it had been so long. You’re sure you could just ignore Abby.

She follows behind you, now swinging her car keys round her finger — so smug. “How were you planning on getting to the club? You live in the middle of nowhere.”

“Uber.”

It’s her turn to snicker, opening the front door for you and standing aside as you walk through. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon.”

Screw her. Because now, for some reason she was in your head.

Maybe you just had a few… weaknesses. You always liked your girls on the masc side, on the buff side — but that was a given. Who isn’t attracted to that, right? However, watching hot girls drive was something else, and Abby was being that something else. You know— hand on the back of your seat when she reverses, bicep bulging when she grips the wheel of her sleek car, the lights of the night time traffic illuminating the way her top lip curled upwards a little and bottom lip pouted. You felt a little relief, knowing it was one hundred percent the wine talking. The wine you’d probably drank a little too much of whilst you were getting ready, playing your music and singing along loudly just hoping it was annoying Abby (It wasn’t, she didn’t even hear.)

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

And you did, for the most part. Abby gave you your space, sitting a few seats away from your group whilst you had your fun — headache inducing squeals and brain numbing chatter over loud music and strong cocktails not quite interesting the blonde. She was driving, and working — so she couldn’t drink, just sat there all night bored out of her mind. She probably should have been monitoring how many drinks you’d had over the night, because soon you were stumbling off your seat to go and dance— and Abby’s hands were itching to pull your skirt down just a little, the hem climbing up to the swell where your thighs meet your ass. She sits back, just watching. She was here to protect you, not be your personal wardrobe malfunction manager — so that’s what she’d do. Sit back and protect.

God, did you always dance like this when you went out?

She felt her fist twitch on the table at the sight of your hips swirling, but she knew that was just a natural gay reaction. She should probably order you a glass of water, so you could sober up and tone down the sluttyness but she figured she’d let you have your fun for now— you may have been too far gone. Abby wished she was holding a beer or something whilst she stared across at the way you were grinding your ass into your friends crotch, the two of you giggling like idiots all hazy eyed from the liquor.

After a while you amble over to her, everything bouncing and spilling out but you clearly don’t give a fuck. Your guard is caught off guard when you come close, alcohol having decimated any concept of personal space as you lean over to speak to her where she’s sat, bent over with your hands splayed on her black jean clad thighs.

She tries to be subtle in the way she eyes you, her tongue peeping between her lips and eyes widening momentarily at the perfect shot of down your top. “I can’t hear you.” She yells over the music. You come closer and nearly topple onto her completely, Abby’s hands by nature resting on the back of your thighs as you now grip her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if at a glance anyone thinks the two of you are a couple. She shakes it off ‘cos… you’re still a brat. Hot or not.

“I said, can I go to the bathroom or are you gonna follow me?” You pull back to make sure she’s seeing you attempt to pointedly raise an eyebrow at her, something you would have perfected usually if you were sober.

“Take a friend.” She nods to your most sober looking buddy and you shrug happily, pushing off her and grabbing your toilet partner and rushing off. She was kind of glad you were gonna be out of her sight for a moment, needing to cool off.

She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Abby was getting bored and tired, dropping the ball a little bit — and you must have been sneaking drinks from your friends when she wasn’t looking — because suddenly you were way too drunk, barely able to stand. Enough was enough when she watched you stumble over to the bar, heading to assumably get yourself another drink. Abby followed you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

Your face screws up into this adorable little pout for a moment before the rage kicks in, brow creasing and fists clenching by your side.

“C’n dooo what I waant. Dompt tell meee what to do.” You thud her in the centre of her chest with your finger, slurring enough to the point where Abby was confident the bartender wouldn’t have served you anyway.

“No. Finish up, you need to go home.” She was stern, and as expected — this garnered the worst possible response, baring your teeth like a dog and digging your heels into the ground like you were about to pounce on her. You exploded into noise.

“Nnno! Fuck you you stupid securererty guard I can’t wait to get rid of youn’d be independent this is such buuullshi—” Your rampage was cut short by Abby sighing, squatting, and throwing you over her shoulder. Her free hand came up without thought, tugging your skirt down to not expose you to the world. You thrashed and yelled for a good ten seconds before giving in completely — by standers and your friends laughing as Abby marched you to the exit. You were asleep by the time she reached the car, and briefly woke up when she’d carried you to bed to demand her to light the fire place. The fear of the dark must have ran incredibly deep, interesting — she noted.

Abby thought that maybe you’d appreciate her cutting your drinks off and halting any further plans to embarrass yourself that night— but she came to learn that if she thought you were bad usually, you with a hangover was ten times worse. If waking up to the sounds of your loud upchuck wasn’t bad enough, you were a whiny, angry bitch relentlessly all day.

“I’m not your servant you know. Stop asking me to do things for you.” Abby walked in with a glass of water and Tylenol upon request, being met with a loud groan instead of a ‘thank you’.

“Do you have to fucking yell everything?” You complain, ironically — louder than her.

She was tired by the end of the day, beginning to wonder if the pay was enough to tolerate your brattiness. Abby had gained a reputation for dealing with difficult clients, perhaps diva-esque or ill-mannered, but often it wasn’t anything a stern talking to couldn’t fix, often intimidated by her height and build enough to shut them up after a few quips. You were effortlessly becoming one of, if not the most difficult and tiresome clients to crack, but she was determined. If Abby was anything, she wasn’t a quitter — which is why when your father called to check in on you, she told him you’d been good as gold, which earned her a glare from you when you’d overheard the whole thing on the way to the bathroom.

You were back to your regular level of shitty behaviour the next day, less whiny and more sarcastic and bitchy which she could tolerate. However, after a month had gone by Abby was finding the irritation harder and harder to control— especially since you had developed an ever so charming habit of putting on your headphones every single time Abby tried to tell you to do something or talk to you in general.

“Like I told you, I’m a bodyguard — not a babysitter. Stop leaving your—” She bounded into the room, stopping when she saw you look her in the eye and pull your headphones over your head, pressing play on your screen to start your music. Abby stares for a few seconds, taking a breath, telling herself to walk away. Be a bodyguard and nothing else. She ignores this, wound up— and moves to stand in front of you, clicking her fingers. Cheekily, you point to your headphones — mouthing a faux-apologetic ‘sorry!’. The blonde scoffs, wondering why she’s entertaining this in the first place and reaches up to yank the headphones off your head, but freezes at your sudden wide eyed yelp.

“Don’t touch me I’ll tell my dad and you’ll get fired!” It’s rambled out, fast and premeditated — like you’d thought of it already and had been waiting to put it to use. Abby glances down at your alight screen, noting the music as paused and wonders if you were ever playing music or was just doing this to bother her. She lowers her hand, because — well, she’s not an asshole — instead turning her palm upwards in gesture to hand them over.

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

“Give them to me or I’m not lighting the fire in your room tonight.” She stares you down and you sulk, shoulders dropping and brows furrowing in devastation. Abby would have felt bad if you weren’t such a menace.

You stroppily yank the headphones off your head and hand them over, muttering profanities furiously under your breath as you turn away from her, sprawled on the couch. Your guard nods, disappearing to put them away before leaving you be — heading to the kitchen to make her afternoon smoothie. The sound of her chopping fruit sparked rage in you all over again at how at home she had made herself, and after a minute you were storming in again— bare feet slapping the cold tiles.

“Back for more?” Abby is calm now, content as she focuses on slicing into a banana.

“You can’t threaten me with my fears you know, that’s emotional and psychological abuse. You’re taking advantage of my fears to be in control like — like a coward. Trust me I studied psychology out of a book, I know my stuff.” You stand beside her ranting as she raises her eyebrows with a calm smile, nodding as she listens and finishes up chopping her fruit, beginning to load them into the— your blender.

“Oh? Smart girl then huh?” She teases and you huff, jutting your chin in the air confidently with an ‘mhm’ before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen island counter, deciding to stick around for a while to pester her.

“Very. You could probably learn a thing or two from me.”

Abby twists her body half around in amusement, a mocking expression of being impressed adorning her attractive face. She closes the lid to the blender, keeping one hand on it as she speaks.

“‘That so? Go ahead, tell me what possibly I could learn from you, smart girl.”

Ignoring how ‘smart girl’ made you feel in your underwear, you only a manage a “Well first of all—” before she’s turned the blender on, the loud whirring masking any sound coming from you despite your attempts to yell over it for a few seconds. She nods teasingly, as if she was listening to what you were saying and you huff, giving up. You were usually a master in being annoying, but Abby was giving you a run for your money.

You hop back off the counter, muttering a ‘Big blonde stupid asshole.’ as you storm out the room and Abby lets go of the blend button, snickering to herself and yelling out a non committal ‘I heard that!’ after you.

The following day she had taken you to buy groceries after you’d complained that you’d wanted to do it yourself — Abby, following you around as you loaded up your cart, every so often remembering your duty to annoy her and hitting her with something along the lines of ‘I want my headphones back.’ which would be met with a disinterested ‘Tough luck.’ on her end. You couldn’t believe that she’d been living in your home for one month and you still hadn’t gotten under her skin. Perhaps that’s why the next day you’d let your guard down.

It was the first sunny day of March, the grassy hills in which the mansion sat on still harbouring that frosty bite to the air from winter — but pink blossoms had began to spring on the bushes and trees and the sky was blue, which instantly lifted your mood just that little bit.

You were curled by the large window that morning, still in your pyjamas and holding a mug beneath your chin, gazing out at the bright grass. When Abby had entered the room, she was surprised to hear you gently comment that “The weathers nice today.” — a rare sentence that wasn’t defying or insulting her. Abby looked over to you, noting your peaceful demeanour and deciding to carefully toe the line.

“Do you wanna… go outside today?” She suggested, something the two of them could possibly do together. She almost grimaced, waiting for you to curse her out like usual but instead you paused quietly for a few seconds before responding.

“I can introduce you to the horses.” With that, you hopped off the window seat and disappeared to get dressed. When you returned, your hair was in tidier condition and you wore a dress made for summer with only a thick knit cardigan over the top. She itched to tell you it was still way too cold to dress like that, but figured she didn’t wanna aggravate you before you’ve even made it out the door. Today was the day Abby would get through to you.

You were quieter than usual, assumably worn out and in higher spirits due to the sunshine. You’d received the horses as a gift on your sixteenth birthday — but due to the cold weather and outright depression you hardly rode them anymore, instead making sure they lived a healthy and luxurious life on your land and fed the best foods by their handler (mainly out of guilt.) Abby could tell you’d regret your outfit choice as the two of you walked along the pathway through the lush greenery outside, pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, head tilted as you watched the birds fly over the pond.

“What are your horses names?” She conversed lightly, stuffing her large hands into the pockets of her black bomber jacket.

“Cinnamon and blondie.” You answer quietly, before speaking up a few moments later. “Don’t judge the lack of creativity I was sixteen when I picked the names out.”

The pair of you reach the barn and she huffs a quiet chuckle out her nose, watching you pick up a brush as you approached the brown and blonde horses. “Hey, I think those names are perfectly fitting.”

She wasn’t sure why she wanted you to like her so badly all of a sudden. She partially thought it was because if you did you’d make her life and her job easier — but… no, it was more personal than that. You’d deprived her of seeing your pretty smile so much that she felt almost awestruck at the sight of your peaceful and joyful expression as you gently combed Cinnamons mane. She caught herself smiling as she watched.

The two of you talked. Like actually talked without hurling insults or rolling eyes. You sat on the hay, watching as she fed Blondie a carrot. Abby’s teeth were always so white and perfect, perfecting an already perfect smile. Perhaps you were in a good mood, because the thought of calling her perfect didn’t quite irritate you as much as it usually would.

“Have you even ridden a horse?” You’re still bashful about making regular conversation as you pluck at the hay from the bale you sit on.

“Nah.” She shucks off her jacket, the air in the barn balmier and muggier than the outside. It’s hard to not let your eyes flicker down to her strong arms, so you don’t deny yourself.

“Not even as a little girl?” You question and she chuckles a little.

“I didn’t have horse money.” There’s a pitch of longing behind her tone and you tilt your head, wondering about her upbringing. She senses your inquisition and glances up at you as she continues to stroke the horse. “I didn’t have much money for pretty much my whole life. It was actually why I got into the bodyguard industry. Good pay.” She shrugs one shoulder like it was nothing.

“Did you get to go to public school? Like in the city?” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, chin balanced on your palms in intrigue. The way you said it sparked some amusement in her, ‘get to go to public school’. Like to you it was some sort of luxury.

“Yep. Got the bus everyday too.” Her eyebrow twitches up with a smirk, turning to walk towards you with her jacket in her hand. Whilst she expects you to pick up on her playful tone and perhaps roll your eyes, you continue to stare up at her in awe— an air of innocent curiosity around you that made her suddenly fight the urge to run a thumb over your cheek. She stood over you, placing her jacket by your side and you preened a little at how big she looked above you like that. Part of you felt mad at yourself for having developed a crush, knowing it was interfering with your plans — but you were touch starved. Really touch starved, so you allowed yourself a little yearning for your strict but not so strict bodyguard.

You clear your throat before speaking quietly. “You’re so lucky.”

At this, she scoffs, dropping down to sit beside you. Your skin felt a little warmer when her thigh pressed up next to yours.

“I wouldn’t say that. Would have traded lives with you in a heartbeat.”

You turn to her with a frown. “My life was boring. I didn’t get to do sneaky, crazy teenager things. I went to a small private school and had my small group of friends there and… we couldn’t do anything without dumb bodyguards riding my coattail. The only time we got privacy was in the girls bathroom, and even then if we took too long they’d come knocking.” You complain, pushing your shoe into the gravel.

“Oh, I see. So you didn’t get to be a bratty teenager so you’re making up for lost years now.” She spoke it with a smile, but assumes she took it too far as along came your infamous eye roll, shuffling away from her on the seat as the irritation snuck back in.

“I am not a brat.”

“And I’m not your bodyguard.” She challenges gently with a smile, nudging her knee against yours. You look at her with a stubborn pout and her smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not really a brat. I can bet you’re a sweet girl that just wants attention so you’re acting out.” Didn’t your father say she was supposed to be tough? Please. You say nothing. Your heart races in your chest but you’re too stubborn to say a word. Maybe you’d let your guard down too much. Roll your eyes again, that’ll do it.

After a moment you look away, not because you were still mad but more so because you were flustered. Sweet girl rung around your head like church bells.

“I know you wanna get rid of me.” She begins and you tense up a little. Way to ruin a nice morning.

“And?”

“I know why. You think you wanna be independent and get away from your parents. You have this… idea of living on your own in the city. Am I right?”

You’re prideful, facing away from her with your chin up. “You’re not wrong.”

She sighs out a little chuckle, shaking her head as she leans forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, head turned towards your profile. “You don’t want that life. Trust me. I’ve lived it and it’s hard.”

“Whats hard is having no freedom, no social life, being followed constantly because no one trusts you to make sensible adult decisions.” You snap at her, turning to look her in the eye.

“So you talk to your dad, try and see eye to eye. Not just… pack up and move out like you’re running away to the circus.” She reasons, like it’s just that simple. Her eyes dart across your face as she sees the rage build, infuriated by the assumption that your father was at all the type to negotiate.

“Theres no just talking to my father, Abby. This is it. This is my life unless I get out of here. I can’t live this way forever.” You raise your voice a little, frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I don’t know what your parents are like, but I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

She smiles in that way that people smile when they’re mad or upset, tilting her head down to look at her hands for a moment as she inhaled, shaking her head with a speechless chuckle when she exhaled. “I never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was sixteen. I don’t have the luxury of arguing with my dad like you do. Sorry.” She sarks and your face drops, which sparks a little guilt in that secretly soft heart of hers — because truthfully there was no way you could have known, and she could tell by your face you were immediately mortified. You stumble for words after a moment.

“Look. I can’t forgive my father for practically imprisoning me. We… we have a complicated relationship and I think we always will. He says he cares and then does nothing but ruin my life. But… he’s still my dad. No one should ever have to go through losing their father, especially not at that age. I’m… I’m sorry Abby. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” You speak quietly and she listens, an unreadable expression on her face as she does so. When you finish, her eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly.

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

“What?” You furrow your brows, sympathetic expression lingering.

“So you are capable of basic empathy. I had no idea.” She let’s a smile slip and your face drops into one of deadpan.

“Bye.” You go to stand up but she laughs and grips your arm, her strong but somewhat affectionate hand not allowing you to leave her side. You sigh with an irritated pout, facing away from her again. When her chuckles die down, she speaks again, her hand staying wrapped around the flesh of your arm.

“So what’s your plan then. You inevitably get me fired, you move into the city by yourself and then what. Where are you gonna work? You won’t be able to afford living in an apartment by yourself so who are you gonna live with?” She fires at you, realising she’s still gripping your arm and letting her fingers trail down a little before leaving your skin all together. You hate how it leaves goosebumps in her wake.

“I’ll use my family name to get me a job somewhere. As for roommates I’m not too sure, I suppose I’ll have to start looking online.” You smirk, glancing at her out the corner of your eye. “Perhaps I’ll just find a girlfriend first who will let me move in with her.”

The mention of a girlfriend makes heat prickle behind Abby’s ears. She had a sixth sense for these kind of things, most of the time able to tell when someone preferred the company of the same sex — mainly down to her own preferences, and she could tell almost immediately with you. However, it was always pleasurable to get the confirmation that she was infact, once again correct.

“Oh yeah? You think anyone else is gonna put up with that princess attitude but me? You better start working on your game.” She jests, and the mention of her tolerating your princess ways caused you to bite down a little on your bottom lip.

“What, you’re saying you’re not charmed by me?” You joke back for once, turning to face her to bat your eyelashes. She chuckles softly, eyes lingering on you for a moment too long before looking away and pushing herself up to stand by pressing her hands into her knees with a quiet grunt.

“Can’t say the insults and tantrums did it for me. Good luck to you though.” She allows a smirk to flit back onto her pouty lips before she thrusts a hand out, allowing you to take it so she could help you up, once again proving to you both that she was actually more than happy to tolerate that princess attitude she speaks of so poorly.

By the next day, your head is back in the game. All this talk of moving out set you straight, and whilst bonding with Abby in the barn certainly set you multiple steps back — you were back to your old self in no time, dead set on getting her to budge so that you could be free’d from your fathers watchful eye.

You eye your search bar on Google, sprawled on your front on your bed with your laptop open infront of you, having just typed ‘Roommates for sale backspace Roommates in the city friendly and not weird’. As you scrolled through the unhelpful results, your door opened — Abby standing in your doorway.

“Jesus do you ever fucking knock?” You curse, glaring up at where she stands in the doorway wearing her usual tight black tshirt and thick belted cargos and boots.

“Good to see you’re back to your usual self.” She sarks with a dramatic eye roll as she leans on her hip, refocusing (which took an extra second because you’re just wearing a little skirt and top today and lying on your front is making her think things.) “I’ve gotta go get my car serviced so I’m dropping it off at the garage thirty minutes away. You think you can survive an hour without me here?”

You’re not looking at her, continuing to scroll as you wave her off with just a distracted mumble causing her to shake her head and tsk followed by a chuckle as she pushes off her feet, disappearing down the hallway. “I won’t be too long. Stay out of trouble, smart girl.” She calls to you, before you eventually heard the sound of the front door shutting and then her car rumbling around the fountain infront of the entrance and out of the large iron gates. Finally, some peace and quiet.

However, after around thirty-five minutes, you had to admit you’d grown bored. You were home alone, and the room-mate search was coming to just about nothing so you had given up all together for the time being. You flop onto your back on the bed, huffing. Where you’d usually get up with the boredom and go to bother Abby until she argues back — you couldn’t. So, you figured you’d turn to the next best thing, listening to music whilst you do a light work out.

You didn’t like working out when Abby was home, because — as if she were a moth to a flame, she couldn’t help herself from interjecting and gym-rat-splaining everything you’re doing wrong and how to improve. The last time she walked in on you doing pilates, you nearly chucked a weight at her head because she started dishing out unwarranted advice. You knew she did it just to bother you, wearing that shit eating grin on her face when she’d lift a bicep and flex it, stating that it was ‘living proof that you should listen to me.’

You thought also that maybe a workout would help burn off some of the… frustration you woke up with. Perhaps it was the tension ridden barn conversation the two of you shared yesterday, a reminder of your starvation for touch, maybe you just had a load of tempting dreams that you weren’t remembering — but you woke up with your cunt aching and hungry to be filled. You figured this was the real reason behind your bad mood returning with such a vigour, and you couldn’t get yourself off, not wanting to give Abby the satisfaction of walking in (without knocking, no doubt) on you with your legs splayed out and fingers deep inside your wanting hole, probably accidentally moaning her name— or whatever. You couldn’t say the thought of doing so didn’t make things worse though.

When you rolled off the bed and onto your feet, you took a moment to collect yourself at the frustration of remembering that Abby still had your God-damn headphones somewhere, having stashed it away due to you using it as a prop to taunt her. You cursed her out, and then cursed yourself out for getting your beloved headphones confiscated before sighing. If Abby wanted to invade your privacy by not knocking, and taking away your personal items — you could invade her privacy by going into her room and searching for them. Perhaps you could even return them before she was back.

It seemed like a sound plan, so you padded down the hallway until you were met with the door to the guest bedroom where she had been residing. You push the door open, for some reason your stomach twisting in excitement at the small thrill of being sneaky— something you rarely got to experience. The room was clean and tidy, and smelt like her. You push further into the room, looking around and spotting a few of the black shiny duffel bags she’d brought along with her — the rest of her things assumably packed away into the closets. You kneel, unzipping the first.

Your hand sticks inside, rustling about only to be met with metal plated weights and an exercise mat. You huff, zipping it back up and trying the next one. You spot them instantly inside, but tsk when you struggle to pull them out — the headband portion of the listening device tangled with something else. You pull them both out, pulling them apart as you do so and gasp when you realise what you’re holding. A strap on. A harness with a dildo attached.

You drop it, nearly falling onto your back like a spider had just leapt out at you— your eyes widening. Placing your headphones aside slowly, you lift it again — observing it. Why on Earth did she have that with her? Your heart jumped slightly in jealousy, wondering if she was planning on bringing someone over and using it on them. Was she fucking someone, just a few doors down from you? In a moment of sick depravity and curiosity, you slowly bring the shaft beneath your nose— inhaling to smell if there were any… remnants of usage, or at best cleaning products to signify it had been used and cleaned. Your face feels hot in shame as you do so, and it just smells like new plastic. It looked new too. You pull it back, looking at it. It hadn’t been used at all.

“God, Abby.” You whisper as you turn it side to side, harness tickling your leg as you grip the girth of it. It was black and shiny like everything else she owned, roughly 7 inches with veins and thick— just as you expected from the broad bodyguard. There were balls attached too, and you run your fingertips over them gently, lightly pressing down to feel it’s texture. As you do so, translucent white liquid gathers at the tip of the dildo, a small trail of it running down the side of the shaft obscenely. You gasp lightly again as your cunt clenches hard without warning. A breeding strap, now you had only ever seen those in porn videos from your phone screen late at night with a hand down your pyjama shorts.

You’d been fucked with a strap before, of course. You’d had been allowed romantic relationships in the past, and your parents of all things were surprisingly cool with the gay thing. Of course, your father had to background check them first and practically set up play dates with their family (Undoubtably another wealthy family) However, the times you’d experienced with them were all short lived, fumbly and overall incompatible. It was clear that you and your past two partners were there purely to experience some sort of relief from their sexual frustration — which resulted in just rolling around the bed whilst your parents dined together downstairs, them gliding their smaller strap in your tight pussy as you clumsily rut against eachother. The experiences were somewhat fun and naive, but you never got to cum or experience real pleasure and satisfaction.

Oh but Abby, you could tell she had to have experience. She had been out there in the world, seasoned and a few years older than you — and when you look like that, with that kind of body, there was no way she wasn’t having girls in and out her apartment door like some kind of cock carousel.

You felt your wet folds pulsing with need to be touched, and you bit your lip — wondering how much time you had as it seemed to have majorly escaped you. The idea of fucking yourself with your bodyguards strap without her knowing had you wetter than you cared to admit from just your own daydreams in your bed, and you’d decided fuck it, consider it pay back for putting a dent in your plans.

You were squatted on the ground still, but now your skirt and panties were draped messily on the sleek wooden flooring by your side — excitedly holding the strap by the dildo wearing just a tight little crop top and nothing else like you were Winnie the fucking Pooh. It was humiliating in the way that made you reach down, checking and confirming that your slick had gathered across your lower region— pent up and built up from the past few hours of general frustration.

You had no idea how that beast was meant to fit inside of you, but you’d grown desperate — eagerly pulling it downwards and hovering over it, smearing the pearly liquid from the tip around in your slick as the harness clattered against the floor. You let out a sigh, only to realise you were trembling from the adrenaline of doing something you shouldn’t. Biting back an excited grin, you push in slightly — the stretch making you wince, brows furrowing. You let out a harsh breath, whispering ‘Fuck’ to yourself as you do so, just the tip stretching you beyond what you’ve ever taken before. You balance on the flats of your feet, toes curling against the ground and eyes squeezing shut as you try and push in further, the thickness making you quietly cry out, unable to take it properly.

Tears sprung to your eyes, half at the stretch and half in frustration at the inability to fit it inside of you. “C’mon, please.” You whine quietly to no one, walls spasming around the plastic, which now was slick with your arousal dripping down it. You were beyond turned on, to the point where you were starting to feel a little pathetic. You tried to ease up, reaching down to rub your clit to help you along as you take a deep breath, mind trying to ease itself — visions of Abby touching you instead of your own hand, moaning quietly and frustratedly at the thought of her strapping you.

You try and push it deeper, and it seems like your walls are about to let up — but the door flies open and so do your eyes. Your world comes crumbling down in humiliation, your ears ringing and face burning hot; Abby stands before you, eyes wide and jaw slack with pink cheeks.

Your first thought is to pull the dildo out, and the size of it makes you let out a quiet pained whine as you do so. She’s frozen, and the rage takes over you. It’s the most comfortable emotion in a situation like this.

“I told you to knock!” You yell, grabbing your skirt and throwing the dildo to the ground.

“This— this is my room!” Her voice is high and defensive, still processing what she just saw as everything happened so quickly. You pull your skirt up and grab your panties off the floor and to make the embarrassment worse — you burst into tears before you’ve made it out the door, storming past her and slamming the door to your room. The final blow was realising you’d left the headphones behind.

Abby watches you until you’re out of sight before turning her head slowly back to the strap on laying abandoned on the floor, a single drip of what looks like your arousal beside it. Jesus, she thinks, letting out a long sigh and running her hand over her face as she enters the room fully — letting the door shut behind her. She slowly lowers herself into a squat, thick thighs bulging in her cargos as she inspects the scene. Abby lifts the harness, before grabbing the dildo by the suction end and sucking in a hitched breath at how you’d soaked it only a little way down. Your poor pussy, she thinks as her lower region warms guiltily at the imagery now the shock had worn off. “Was a good attempt.” She mutters to herself, tossing the dildo onto her bed and sighing, standing up and stroking beneath her chin in thought. She worries, wonders what you must have thought about her seeing that she’d brought a strap on into your home. You must’ve thought she was some kind of perv, right? How was she supposed to bring you back from this?

As you lay face down on your bed, crying embarrassed tears for an hour straight— you wonder if it would have been less embarrassing if Abby had followed you into your room rather than leaving you to storm off on your own. She probably didn’t want to see you, or speak to you for the matter of fact. You sit up, wiping your cheeks furiously — if that were the case, you had the right to be mad at her. It was her fault, she took your headphones which spiralled into this whole thing. Was it better to let things fizzle out and be awkward? You couldn’t think of anything worse, so you finally rose to your feet again, cleaning up your appearance with your jaw clenched before storming back down the hallway. You were going to finish this, and make her leave for good.

You didn’t bother to knock, because when did she bother? You pushed the door open so hard it bang loudly against the wall, and Abby turned around from her dresser — going through some envelopes, totally unphased.

“I’m taking my headphones!” You practically holler, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. She places the envelope aside as she leans against the dresser crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Okay.”

“And my father will be receiving a call! Yes, I will call him and tell him that you’re rude, you push boundaries, and you don’t ever fucking knock on any door!” You raise your voice even louder, counting off your fingers as she stares at you.

“Again, this is my room and I didn’t know you were in here.” She explains slowly like you were stupid, which only enrages you more.

“This is my house!” You shriek, waving your hands and she pushes off the dresser, stepping towards you.

“Is it?” She frowns. “Do you even pay any rent?”

You falter for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see and nearly smile, which only builds your emotion. “This is my families house. On your very first day here you said that you were a guest in my house, so act like one. My. House.” You step closer to meet her in the centre of the room, eyes boring up into hers as she watched you, unimpressed, tongue in her cheek.

She couldn’t lie, you were hot when you were mad. Infuriating, sure. But hot. Hot in the way where she wanted to shut you up, make you cum until you weren’t fighting back — just babbling aimlessly, frown fully melted from your face. Fuck you until you learnt a lesson. The thought made her stand up a little straighter.

“Yeah?” She tilts her head daringly, and enraged you step up closer, bodies nearly touching just so you could yell in her face.

“My. Hou—” You go to repeat yourself for emphasis but you’re cut off by the feeling of her hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them. When she speaks, it’s calm and menacing. You stare up at her wide eyed.

“You’re not gonna talk to me like that. You’re embarrassed, sweet girl — and I feel for you, but don’t you ever yell in my face like that. You understand me?” She tilts her head further, eyes on you. You’re humiliated, knees knocking into eachother at her calling you sweet girl whilst berating you and you frown, still panting — all hot faced and furious. She uses your cheeks to make you nod and you groan. “Good. If you wanna talk about what happened, let’s talk. But before you come up here and start accusing me of shit, remember that you came in here searching, and you found that,” she turns your face so that you were looking at the strap on laying on the bed. She stays facing you, eyes browsing the side of your face now. Your eyes widen a little at the sight, the memory of using it replaying in your head. “And you decided to use it without asking me.” She steps back a little, eyeing you (not even bothering to hide the hunger anymore). “Okay. Say your piece.” She gestures with her hand and you collect yourself, pulling in a shaky breath.

You admit, the confidence from your tone had vanished. “I was just trying to look for my headphones. I wanted to work out.” You explain and she nods, encouraging you to go on. “You… you brought that into this house, why?” You point at the toy on the bed, the embarrassment starting to slip through again in your pathetic tone of voice.

“Its not your business what I bring with me in my own bag.” Her velvety voice was quick to answer and your brow creased, running out of reasons to shift the blame onto her.

“Well… you can’t bring things like that here it’s — it’s inappropriate.” You internally curse yourself out for stuttering.

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints an hour ago when you were trying to stuff it inside yourself.” She shrugs like she just couldn’t help it from leaving her mouth and in your embarrassment you turn to leave again, walking towards the door. She follows and reaches over your head and shuts it in front of you before you can, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that your back was pressed to it now as she looms over you. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Abby.” You go to complain, but it comes out as a weak whisper.

“Is that why you did it? Maybe you were trying to get caught so you’d have a reason to get all mad and go batshit crazy on me, huh? Still going ahead with that bullshit plan of yours to send me packing?” Abby theorises and you lower your gaze, head tilted towards the ground as you thought. It wasn’t that, you weren’t brave enough. You were genuinely just being disgusting and horny and got yourself caught — which to you was all the more shameful. She knocks your chin up with her knuckle, making you look up at her again. “Or maybe you wanted to get caught so you could be punished. Is that what you wanted? ‘That why you been such a fucking brat?”

“Not a brat.” You huff, though you couldn’t deny it any further than that.

“You know what a brat is? Girls like you,” She poked a finger into your chest. “Who wanna be put in their place so they act out. I’m starting to think that’s just what you need.”

You try and push off the door but she’s blocking you to do so, bodies too close. “Do you really think I’d come in here and yell at you just because I wanna get spanked or whatever?” You bite back, proud of the comeback until she roughly spins you around by the hips so your cheek was pressed to the wooden door, back a little arched. She takes a fist of your skirt and yanks it up, holding it to your lower back making you gasp — fully exposing your bare rear. She chuckles and you wanna die.

“I dunno, didn’t even bother putting on a new pair of panties before coming up in here. Seems to me like you knew what you were doing. Lost the bass in your voice too, smart girl. Where’d all that anger go?” Her hand is gentle when it cups your ass, feeling the meat of it in her hand. You could not believe this was happening. You were mortified. Soaked, but mortified.

You try to fight back with your words, but it’s coming out in little huffs and embarrassed pants at the feeling of her grabbing your ass. “I’m— m’gonna tell — gonna tell on—”

“You’re gonna tell on me?” She snickered. “Are you gonna tell the full story? What you were doing on the floor when I walked in?” She purs in your ear and you can hear her smiling. She’s sick.

You say nothing, because if you’re being honest you’re giving up on your resolve— the feeling of her hands on you just melting your anger away like ice. “No I didn’t think so.”

She gives your ass a light slap, just enough to jiggle it and make you whimper at the suddenness before turning you back around, eyes glancing between yours seriously. “You wanna know what I think?”

You sigh and nod, not trusting your voice at this point.

She gently takes you by the arm and walks you over to the foot of the bed, picking up the strap and holding it. “I think you need to clean my strap for me.”

The way she says it makes you feel hot and bothered, and you go to reach for it to shamefully disappear and wash it in the sink but she holds it out of your reach, raising her eyebrows playfully as she stares you down for a moment. “Not like that.”

She brings the strap down, stepping into the leg holes of the harness before pulling it up and adjusting it to fit her by the hoops at the hip. You watch, trembling — the sight of her standing there with a huge cock something you had only dreamt of, making you squeeze your thighs together. You hated yourself for how weak willed you’d become.

“You can clean it up that smart mouth of yours.” She smiles simply before placing both hands on your shoulders and pushing you down slowly to the ground. She sits too on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate to you between them. She wanted you to suck her off? Now that was just degrading. You pursed your lips, trying and failing to ignore the rush of slick seeping from you.

“Abby. Come on.” You whisper and she looks at you for a moment, making you shrink where you were kneeled before leaning forward, gently grasping your chin again, her face millimetres from yours.

“It’s the least you can do.” She threatens before leaning back on her hands, nodding towards her cock. She nearly folds and leans forward to kiss you when she sees the big, sweet, doe eyes you give her — so far removed from your usual glare. If she knew that all she had to do was dom the good girl out of you, her previous month would have been a lot easier.

You gingerly grip the shaft with your hand, bringing your face towards it. God, it smells like you still— to think that only an hour ago you were on the ground trying to shove it inside yourself. Your brows furrow as you kitten lick the top, before suckling on the top with a low moan in your throat gaining confidence. “Good girl.” She praises as you push down a little, sucking harder to the point where you can taste the breeding liquid. You’re not quite sure if it’s meant to be consumed but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything at this point.

You wanna push down further, but you’re struck with a thought and pull off her with a pop— glaring up at her with some of your leftover brattiness.

“What’s that face for?” She hums. You struggle to find your words.

“You… We’re…” You huff, sulkily and she watches the glimmer of longing pass over your face. “You’re making me suck you off and you haven’t even kissed me.” You finally get it out and she smirks, but not totally in a mean way — more so adoringly. Smushing your cheeks again with her hand, she pulls your face in, meeting you in the middle as her cock brushes against your chest as her lips meet yours. It’s a hard, wet, sloppy kiss with your cheeks smushed but it’ll do, and when she pulls off you with a loud smack she roughly rubs her thumb beneath your pouty bottom lip to remove the residual saliva. “Now get back to work.”

She holds back a giggle at the sight of your own pleased smile as you go back down, licking up the sides and cleaning off the plastic — groaning at the residual taste of you clinging to it. This was cruel, wicked even — and you were enjoying it.

“Thats it. Knew I’d be able to find better use for that mouth. Must be tired from running it so much.” Her voice is gentle despite the degradation and it fills your brain with a hazy, muddled fog — not sure how to feel anymore. You pull up for air after taking as much as you can, and as soon as your lips wrap around the dick again, Abby can’t help herself from pressing her hand down on the back of your head gently, muttering a “‘Can do better than that, pretty.” as you gag around her. This seemed to be the first straw in what broke the camels back.

It had dawned on you, half way through sucking her off that after this she was likely just to throw you out on your ass, back to your room to take care of yourself. Getting you on your knees infront of her was her way of winning once and for all, and this was only one last humiliation to shut you up completely. You hadn’t realised you were in your head until Abby was pulling her strap out your mouth, tilting your chin up to her as she leant forward once more. “Hey. Where’d you go just now?”

You try and break away, trying to catch her tip in your mouth again, jaw a little agape and tongue peeping out but she grips your chin more firmly, shaking you a little. “Hey. Look at me.”

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“Then what?”

You suck in a deep breath. “Are you gonna chuck me out after this? Are you… are you only doing this to embarrass me?” She stares at you in perplexity as she watched your mouth turn down, emotions catching up with you as you squeeze your eyes shut — two fat tears sliding down your tears.

“Hey, no.” She’s still a little confused, but she wipes your tears away with the back of her hand anyway. She sighs, pulling you up by the arm and sitting you on her thigh. “Okay. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t for you. That’s okay.”

You wipe your nose, a little calmer and clearer headed now. “I was enjoying it. I think I just… I feel like no one cares about me. It just caught up with me that’s all. We can get back to it.” You go to stand up off her but she holds you tighter, making you look at her.

“I care about you. I stupidly, really care about you.” She speaks sincerely, and you stare at her analytically before realising that she actually truly means it. Abby cares about you.

She pulls you in gently this time, lips locking against yours. It’s not mean, or sarky, or trying to tease you — it’s a real meaningful kiss and you just melt. All that anger, all that competitiveness just melts off you like ice cream on a hot and hazy day. You wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lick into your mouth and dominate your tongue with her own, pulling it in and sucking on it making you shift on her thigh and whimper. You think about grinding down on her thick, cargo covered thighs and how good that might feel after a month of staring at them — but before you can, she’s easing you to lay on your back on the bed.

“Can show you how much I care about you. Maybe we can start over, how’s that sound?” She whispers into the space below your ear, pressing a wet kiss there and you let out a shaky huff, nodding. “Gonna need your words though. That’s how this works, sweet girl.”

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

Her hands look large, but they feel even larger — especially when they’re beside eachother, running up beneath your top— fingertips brushing over your hard nipples as she tests the waters, smiling against your skin when your back arches up into her, a sensitive whine quietly passing your lips. She slowly drags up your top, pushing herself down your body to pepper kisses down the centre of your chest, letting out a quiet groan of her own when she grips your tit with her hand, massaging the plush flesh. “M—outh” You choke out in a pleasured haze and she chuckles, eyebrows jumping up in amusement as she adjusts her position.

“Should have known you’d know exactly what you want.” She teases before flattening her tongue over the bud of your nipple, pulling back to blow cold air on it to harden it making you wince sensitively. The smile barely leaves her when she dips down, wrapping her pouty pink lips around the bud and sucking, soothing her tongue over it and digging her teeth in ever so slightly, letting them scrape over your nipple when she pulls away. “Fuck, so pretty.” She grits her teeth, reaching up and grabbing it in her hand again letting it jiggle beneath her palm.

You buck your hips again, which directs her attention to your lower regions — forcing her to depart from your breast to continue her journey down your body. She sits up, both hands encasing your waist, rubbing thumbs into your lower ribs gently. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold question and your eyes flutter open, not quite remembering when you closed them. “No.”

She grins, like that was just the answer she was after and climbs back down— kissing your stomach and then flipping your skirt up so she could kiss your pubic mound. You shiver, a little insecure but filled with desire more than anything as her hands slide up between your legs. “Open these up for me.” She whispers, and her hot breath wafts over your needing cunt when she reveals it, pulling back to look at it.

You feel your chest and face get hot as she stares— dark eyed and hungry straight at your most private area. “So fucking pretty.” She whispers, thumbs sliding either side of your fat lips and pulling them apart, her brows furrowing. “You always get this wet? Jesus.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t quite have the guts to tell her that you don’t remember the last time someone had aroused you this much, to the point where it’s taken over your body and brain entirely.

She leans in, and you expect her tongue to dart out first — but she spits, directly on your clit making you jolt with a whimper, then chasing it up with the flat of her tongue as her thick arms wrap around your thighs, jaw practically unhinging as she starts eating you like her life depends on it.

You moan, loudly and with less shame as time passes now, grinding your hips up into her face — which she matches by pinning them back down to the bed, only pulling away to briefly grab a cushion from the bed and slot it beneath your hips to elevate you slightly — so fast and expertly you barely realise she’s done it before she’s back to mouthing at your crotch.

“Feels so good!” You whine and she chuckles against you, the vibration of which sends shockwaves through to your stomach. “Need you to fuck me.” You mutter, more to yourself but she acknowledges it anyway, the hands that were massaging your hips sliding between your thighs.

“If you want to take my cock I’m gonna need to prep you. You saw yourself, s’never gonna fit with how tight you are right now.”

With this new information, you feel her finger tips sliding through your soaked folds gently as she suckles on your clit relentlessly. You whine, trying your best not to clamp down when she slides in her finger, and then another. You were in heaven, panting up to the ceiling as she fingerfucks you, l your hand sliding down to encase itself in her golden hair — glowing from the sunset streaming in through the window.

She moans as she tastes you, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut like she could feel every movement of her tongue herself. “Gonna give you one more okay? Need to stretch you— still so fucking tight.” She speaks against you and all you can do is nod, in fact at that point you’d probably let her do anything she wanted to you. It was such a relief to drop the act, to just relax and let her take care of you.

A third finger prods at your entrance and you wince as she slowly slides it in, looking up at you to watch your expression — brows pinching and eye twitching at the feeling, walls wrapping tightly round her thick fingers. “There you go, pretty girl. Took that like a champ.” She kisses your hip bone before getting back to work, slowly and experimentally fucking her three fingers in and out, curling them up to grind against your upper gummy inner wall.

“Feel like I’m gonna cum, Abby it’s — it’s so much.” You shake, toes curled so hard they’d gone white and she hums kindly against you, pulling off your clit again with a loud spitty pop.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out.” She whispers, rushed and syrupy like she was too on the precipice of a moan. She moves her tongue in quick successions around your clit as you start to buck and ride against her fingers, a clammy sound matching this — your wetness creating music against her knuckles as you fuck against them. “Cum, smart girl, cum.”

You do, and you’re so full it’s like there’s nowhere for the cum to go — and therefore you feel like you might explode, suddenly letting out loud cries and whines as you shake and jerk on the bed, only to be held down by Abby’s strong arms. She moans too, because you’re dripping down her wrists and her chin — seeming to have a never ending quantity of cum as she laps it up. You taste exactly how she thought you would.

You can’t even tell she’s stopped because your legs are still violently shaking for a minute, coming down from your orgasm felt like it would never end— but you were grounded by the feeling of Abby’s lips on your cheek, sliding her hands under your back to hold you. “I know, it’s okay. Good job.” She cooes into your hair, silencing your nonsensical babbles. She doesn’t push you to move onto the next thing, just stroking your skin and pressing her lips to your skin until you were calm.

Abby feels tugging down below, and looks down between your bodies to see your hand wrapped around her shaft, tugging towards you as your legs fall open again limply. She winces like she can feel it, and she swears she can when you lazily run your thumb over the tip that had drizzled some of the pearlescent liquid out from all the movement. She watches you play with the spillage between your fingers, before bringing it to your puffy cunt, spreading it through your folds and whimpering at the sensitivity.

“Shit, babe.” She sighs out, the room feeling suddenly much warmer. “You wanna continue?”

“Mhm. Was prepping to take you, remember?” You brush the loose strand from her braid hanging over her cheek out of her face. The gesture is intimate, like two lovers who have been together for a while. You almost feel embarrassed again but she turns her cheek and kisses your palm.

She nestles the pads of her fingers into your folds again, sliding around in your arousal and you sigh out at the sensitivity, the urge to be filled returning from its brief satisfaction. “Well you’re definitely wet enough.” She smirks in disbelief, and you can’t believe that there was a time where you would have rolled your eyes at such comments — now only doe eyed and lip bitten as your legs fall open wider. Her fingers are replaced by her strap, sliding up and down — collecting your wetness along it, a whimper leaving you when the tip nudges against your swollen clit.

“Think you’re ready for me?” She asks and before she’s even finished the sentence you moan out a quick and desperate ‘yes!’ making her laugh, keeling into herself with her chin to her chest for a moment. She looks cute and you want to kiss her again. In due time, you think. “How long has it been since you last got fucked?” She continues sliding her strap up and down. Abby secretly thinks she’s stalling, because she wants this closeness to last.

You shake your head breathlessly, trying to clear the fog in order to answer her simple question. Why was she asking questions at a time like this?

“Like — nine months maybe a year?” You answer and she nods, understandingly.

“It’s no wonder you’re so tight. This is gonna be quite a squeeze, yeah?” She looks you deep in your eyes, like she did every time she wanted you to really listen.

“I know, s’okay.” You breathe, and at this she takes your hand in her larger one.

“S’gonna be big. You can squeeze my hand if you want. Deep breath in.” She instructs and you slowly inhale as she pushes in, your hand squeezing hers as you clench around her thick length.

The “Fuck” you let out in a breathy groan is obscene and borderline pornagraphic, which makes Abby fight the urge to bottom out completely and shove her cock inside you fully all at once, but she’s patient, her breath hitching as she reassures you.

“I know, I know.” is all she can say as she pushes in further.

“W—wait.” You tense up a little and she freezes with no hesitation, letting you adjust to the stretch as she drops kisses onto your jaw until you were ready. This happened a couple of times, and she’d oblige to your wishes each time you halt her until she was fully seated inside you.

You felt like the air had been punched out of you, Abby was so deep. “Hows that?” She whispers.

“So big.” You mewl.

“Taking it so well. See, we got it all in the end.” She praises, quiet and gleeful watching you blissed out beneath her.

“Y’not getting paid enough for this, he’s not paying you enough to deal with me.” You babble into her shoulder in regards to her deal with your father, legs trembling around her hips.

“You kidding me? He’s paying me to fuck his daughters pretty pussy, think I’ll be okay.” She scoffs into your neck, sucking wet kisses into the skin there, hips still not moving as you adjust.

“S’not why he’s paying you.” Your nose turns up and she chuckles before lifting her face to hover right above yours, lips occasionally brushing. She begins to move her hips and you both gasp at the feeling.

“How about… instead of arguing with me… you shut up and take my fucking strap.” She whispers temptingly and you go limp again, apart from your hips which twitch against her movements letting her grind her strap in and out of you slowly.

“Oh my god!” You cry, letting go of her hand to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into you to connect your lips. She lets you whimper against her and suck on her bottom lip whilst she concentrates on finding that angle. She knows she’s struck gold when your legs jerk around her before your heels dig into her ass.

“Faster please Abby, please faster!” You sound deranged, at the point she wanted you all along — cockdrunk and desperate without a care in the world. She clenches around nothing at the thought of just keeping you this dumb all the time.

She speeds up on command, hips smacking against you now as she pulls away to watch the way your tits bounce beneath her. “Oh baby, you’re fucking taking it.” She pants, impressed at how quickly you’ve allowed her to really go in on you. She reaches between you to rub your clit and you squeal, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah? Want me to rub it? S’it that good, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Please! I— I can’t Abby it’s too — Abby please I wanna— need to cum!” Your hands are curled into her t-shirt adorably which only makes her go harder, practically punching the sounds out of you like a squeaky toy each time she thrusts. You feel yourself teetering over the edge once more, abused pussy relentlessly sucking her in with obscene wet noises attached. Before you can release, your hand reaches down to cup the balls of the strap. “Want it inside, please Ab— please want it inside me—” You ramble and she catches on, and as you tense up, letting out a pained whine as you cum, she slides her hand on top of yours, pressing down to empty the cum lube inside you. The feeling of the warm liquid spurting against your cervix makes you shake, sobbing uncontrollably suddenly as you ride it out.

“There you go, good fucking girl. You like that don’t you? Fuck, letting me breed you like this the first time we fuck? You dirty fucking girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.” She’s babbling too, unravelled by the beauty that was you cumming the way you did. She knew she was good at fucking, but to make someone cry like that was driving her insane.

You’re floating when she pulls out, the two of you breathless and fucked out. Effortlessly, she pushes her hands under your arms and drags you further up the bed until you’re laying against the pillow and she drops down besides you, pulling you into her chest, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. You listen to her heart thundering in her chest, and it lulls you into a sleepy and relaxed zone, pulling your thigh up over her hip with her help, her thumb stroking the crease where your ass and thigh connects.

“Did so good. The sounds you make are so pretty.” She whispers like she was trying to lull you to sleep. You shift, breath stammering in your throat and nearly choking you when your used pussy glides over her shaft— the veins and ridges catching against your clit making your hips jerk on her, unable to stop yourself from slowly and feverishly rubbing down on her as you breathe heavily in the quiet room.

“Want more, sweet girl?” She cooes, hand running down the back of your head to cup it lovingly.

“Too sore.” It comes out muffled into her t-shirt, aimlessly rocking your hips.

“That’s alright. Just keep… keep doing this.” She relaxes into the bed, kissing your forehead and letting you please yourself, grinding into the mixture of your juices and the fake cum soaking the both of your lower halves. It was messy and bordering on gross, but made your needy clit throb all the more. You were truly insatiable. Had it really been that long?

She sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against her, the position making her harness press deliciously into her own clit, pleasing you both. Perhaps she too could get off from this.

The sun had gone in, and the room had grown dark. But this time, you weren’t afraid — infact the growing inkiness of the sky was the last thing on your mind— safe, warm and dumb in Abby’s strong arms.

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

#bodyguard!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #abby tlou2 smut

[melrodrigo]

The Other Side Of The Door - V.C.

Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader

Summary: Vada’s been a questionable girlfriend lately, and you’ve decided you’ve had enough.

Warnings: Angst, Vada is kinda toxic in this, mentions of drinking

Word Count: 1.2k+

A/N: Inspired by TOSOTD by miss t-swizzle herself. I hope u angst monsters r happy, I don’t write angst very often. Also! Did not proofread this, sorry bout that

“Leave.” You say, face stoney and eyes narrowed. You ignore the voice inside of you that says this is a terrible idea.

Your girlfriend blinks back at you, taken aback by the venom in your voice.

Her expression changes from happy to crestfallen in a second, and it takes everything in you to not immediately take back what you’ve just said.

“What is this about?” She asks, eyes wide.

The minute your girlfriend had waltzed into your room, whistling to her favorite Juice Wrld song, she had been met with the sight of you sitting on your bed, arms crossed.

“What is this about? Are you kidding, Vada?” You seethe, too pissed to have any sort of filter anymore.

She gulps.

“How about it’s about the countless times I’ve had to drag you back home because you were drunk shitless, doing god knows what with god knows who, without any explanation whatsoever.” You’re standing up now, sizing Vada up.

“It’s about the amount of times you’ve ignored me this whole week, never answering texts, never picking up my calls. Am I even your girlfriend anymore?” You press, rambling as if everything that’s been pent up inside you for weeks stars spilling out all at once.

Your girlfriend pales as you monologue, eyes darting to lock on anything but your face.

“But-“ She opens her mouth and closes it a couple times, searching for something to say.

You cut her off quickly. Unwillingly to let her have any say in this.

“Quite frankly, I’ve had enough. So if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to leave.” You tell her, pretending you don’t see the way her eyes are starting to water.

She’s as still as a statue for a good minute or two, contemplating what she wants to do. You can practically see the cogs turning in her brain.

One more glare from you has her rushing out your room and downstairs. You can’t help the pang in your chest as you watch her leave. After everything, you still want her to stay.

Stupid girl and the grip she has on me.

Nothing quells your bad mood for the rest of the night. You spend dinner shooting back one word responses to your mom’s inquiries, irritable.

You tuck yourself into bed, check your phone for a message from anyone—okay, maybe you wanted to see if Vada had said anything, but nothing. You huff and pull the sheets over your body, closing your eyes shut and forcing sleep to have its way with you.

-

Somehow, in the morning, you wake up even more annoyed. Whenever you’ve had fights with Vada before, the morning after she’d be all over you; begging for forgiveness and blowing up your phone.

You’re ashamed to admit you like the attention.

Today, nothing. Not a single call or text from your normally oh so talkative girlfriend.

As the day goes on, you start feeling mournful. Regret courses deep through you. You sit and stew in your feelings until you can’t think of anything else.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said all that.

It’s a sad Sunday that’s spent with you staring at cute photographs you’d taken with her months prior, and jumping at the sound of any notification. It’s pathetic, but you need her. You don’t remember how long it’s been since you and Vada have had a day apart.

You’re stuck. You miss her so much, but your stupid pride won’t allow you to text first, or to go find her, because what would you even do? You’d been the one to apologize first too many times. This time, you decide it’s going to be up to Vada.

You sleuth around for the rest of your Sunday. When you finish dinner and storm to your room, your turmoil has turned into spite.

“If you don’t call in the next 5 minutes I swear I’m breaking up with you.” You hiss to the phone, staring intently at Vada’s profile picture, as if she’s just going to pop out of the phone by sheer will of you wanting her there.

After a minute of this, you set the phone down and take a deep breath. You turn your phone on do not disturb and pick up a book. All this drama has you feeling like you need to reconnect with nature a bit.

It’s a book Vada herself had recommended you, which was funny, since your girlfriend barely read shit. You hate to admit she has good taste. You glide through the pages easily, happy for a distraction.

Minutes turn into hours, and before long, you notice that the light is starting to dim down and the sun is starting to set. You also hear the tiny pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof.

You get up and walk to your window, face still buried in your book, and gently ease it open, hoping to find some comfort in the fresh air and smell of wet grass.

What you get is not that. A pebble, the size of your pinky comes hurling, too fast for even your reflexes to react.

It hits you smack dab in the face, making you loosen your grip on the book and dropping it. You groan, rubbing the part of your nose that stings. You hear a tiny oh shit below you and you peer out your window so fast it gives you whiplash.

The sight of Vada standing in the rain, her hair messy and her bike discarded on your tiny front yard brings out a lot of mixed emotions in you.

Finally. Goddamn, finally.

She looks sheepish as she speaks. “I’m sorry!” She squeaks. “I didn’t mean to hit you- I swear. I was just trying to do one of those huge romantic gestures where the guy gets the girls attention by throwing pebbles at her window ya know? But it ended up being kinda fun and I didn’t see you when I threw that one-“ She says, speaking so fast you can barely understand her.

When you don’t answer, it’s almost like Vada remembers what she came here for. She straightens up, wiping her palms on her loose graphic tee.

“I’m sorry. I really am. If you would hear me out, I’ll explain everything. I promise. I’m sorry for not coming to my senses earlier, and I’m sorry for not paying you enough attention. I love you, I’m in love with you; you know that. More than anything.” She yells, almost screams so you can hear her clearly.

You feel your walls crumble immediately. How were you going to deny your sweet, loving, albeit sort of confusing girlfriend of your love? It was no use. She always wins when it comes to you.

You sigh.

Vada waits patiently, shifting on her feet and shivering slightly from the cold.

You gesture for her to come in with your hand, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the joy that sparks across her face immediately.

She sprints in, saying a quick hello to your mom- who probably heard everything, and runs up the stairs, practically tackling you onto your own bedroom floor.

She’s soaked, and you can already feel the water seeping through your own shirt, but you don’t care. Vada’s wrapped herself tight around you, like a baby koala. She’s trembling slightly, and you notice she’s crying.

You place your hand on top of her head, rubbing gently. You murmur sweet nothings into her ear.

She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes all red and puffy. She looks so pretty like this.

“I missed you so much.” She gushes.

You grin lazily, happy to have your girlfriend back in your arms.

“I missed you too, baby.”

#vada cavell x reader #vada cavell x y/n #vada cavell #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega

[azulashengrottospiano]

love me (for a while)

Genre/Tropes: Fluffy!! Fake dating, friends to lovers.

Summary: Deuce asks a favor of you. Date him to get Ace off his back, just for a week. Won't you love him, just for a little while?

Author's Comments: I wanted to write some fake dating stuff for Deuce plus Ace shenanigans, and it turned out to be really long. I also wrote this a week before I officially started playing Twisted Wonderland, and it's my first really long piece. It holds a special place in my heart. This was cross-posted on AO3 and Quotev!!

~~~~~

“Can I ask a favor of you?” he asked, eyes shining in the darkness of your dorm.

“Sure.” you answered, awaiting a request to assist him with some scheme to get Ace out of trouble again.

A pause.

“Can you pretend to date me?” he blurted, the words smashed together like crushed raspberries (which would have been the same shade as his face.)

Silence.

Neither one of you spoke for a moment—Deuce, too anxious about your reaction, and you, too shocked to make sense of his words for a moment.

“What did you do this time?” you straightened up, amusement in your voice.

“I told Ace I wasn’t that inexperienced when he was teasing me about my lack of romantic relationships and he asked what I meant by that and I told him that I was dating you just to rub it in his face and he laughed at me and said there was no way and that he’d ask you about it tomorrow so I want to—”

“I’ll do it.” you patted him on the shoulder, successfully stopping his rambling.

“Really? You don’t have, I’m serious, this is my fault and I—”

“Deuce.”

“Huh?”

“It’s no problem. Really. Besides, I can’t wait to see the look on Ace’s face.” you snickered.

That was Sunday. Today was another day, the day when you put your plan into action and officially became Deuce’s fake partner.

Monday.

Monday is when it was announced.

You and Deuce were sitting at the lunch table with Grim and Ace, the latter staring at the two of you expectantly. You rolled your eyes as Grim paid the three of you no mind, gobbling up his food with no regard for any table manners.

“So. You know what I want.” Ace smirked, pointing his spoon at Deuce across the table, “Are you two dating?”

You almost started laughing but managed to keep a straight face. In a moment of boldness, you took Deuce’s hand on your own and slammed them both on the table. He yelped at your boldness, staring at you with wide eyes as you smirked back at Ace.

“Yeah. What’s it to you?”

The look on his face was priceless—his smug smirk and twinkling eyes slowly turned into a look of shock, his eyes wide and jaw hanging. Before you had time to really relish Ace’s reaction, he was shaking it off with a loud sputter.

“I don’t believe it!” Ace groaned, slamming his forehead on the table, “That’s...I can’t believe you weren’t lying.”

He gripped your hand a little tighter, his face flushed red and lips pressed in a thin line. Ace didn’t seem to notice, his attention fixated on his beloved cherry pie. He sighed, looking like he was about to give up on everything.

“Hand it over!” Grim cackled, holding out his paws.

Ace rolled his eyes and slid his slice of cherry pie in front of the monster. He grumbled something under his breath as Grim dug into it with a triumphant grin.

“What was that about?” you asked, watching Grim gobble up Ace’s favorite food right in front of his face.

“We made a bet.” Ace huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You made a bet about whether Deuce and I were actually dating?”

“Sure did. I thought there was no way Deuce and you would ever end up together so I told Grim I’d give him my cherry pie if you confirmed it tomorrow.”

“That’s a stupid bet you made, Ace.”

“Listen, I thought I had a better understanding of what was happening between my bestest friends in the whole world-”

You laughed, squeezing Deuce’s hand. He hadn’t said a single word since you’d grabbed his hand, and you were worried that the action had broken him. Deciding that you might as well sell the idea of this relationship if you were to pretend this was real for who knows how long, you turned your attention away from your tablemates and to him.

“Are you okay honey?” you asked, placing your free hand over your intertwined fingers.

That was the right thing to say, you noted, as his face flushed an even brighter shade of red. So he liked pet names. You could work with that.

“Yeah. Just...nervous.” he cleared his throat, straightening his back. He tore his eyes away from yours, only for them to dart back to your face. You smiled. He ducked his head, staring at his untouched lunch.

“Bleh. Honeymoon stage.” Ace grumbled, still glaring at the spot where his pie used to be.

“You don’t have to be nervous, I’m not gonna hurt you.” you teased, “Come on, let's eat so we can hang out for a bit longer before classes start.”

“Can I walk you?”

“Of course you can, honey. I’d feel safer with you around.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on your smiling lips for only a second before he ripped his gaze away. You felt your heart skip a beat at the implication, missing the suspicious gaze of Ace as he looked between the two of you.

♠

Tuesday.

Tuesday is when you both forgot your scheme.

In the morning, you walked into school with a mission, and the first thing you saw threw you off. Deuce was waiting for you, standing up straight and staring into nothingness with a slight scowl on his face. You almost laughed at how silly he looked, hands clasped behind his back as various students stared at him.

“Hi, Deuce.” you greeted, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hey.” he murmured, softening immediately under your touch.

The hug lasted for a few seconds, Deuce’s body warmth lulling you into a gentle sense of security. It wasn’t until Deuce dragged his hands down your arms and took your hands in his as he pulled away that you allowed yourself to slip away, too. His head was down, gaze trained on your hands like he didn’t know what to do with them. You watched as his furrowed brow relaxed, his head lifting to meet your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I—I should be walking you to class right now.”

Deuce was once again looking so painfully indifferent, slowly taking his hands out of your grip. You tensed for a second, going to grab them and bring your fingers back to their beautiful, intertwined state—

His arms fell at his sides, and your hands were painfully empty.

You walked to class with him, staring straight at him as he stared straight at the end of whatever hallway you were walking down. You huffed and pursed your lips, eyes drinking in how stiff he looked.

If only you’d held his hand.

He stopped outside your classroom, briefly making eye contact and saying goodbye, his gaze softening for a second when you smiled and thanked him. Deuce opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but closed it again.

“I shouldn’t hold you too long, but…” you bit your lip—really, why were you acting like a fool? “I’d like to walk back to my dorm with you. If you don’t mind.”

You should have held his hand.

The back of his hand brushed the side of your face, his dark blue eyes swallowing you whole.

“I’d love to walk you back.” he nodded, cheeks flushed pink.

No more words were exchanged as he turned on his heel and walked away, the interaction that lasted a few seconds replaying in your mind like it had more importance than anything else in your day.

A thought interrupted them.

Your hand was so devastatingly cold.

♠

In the afternoon, you met up with Deuce the second class let out. He was waiting for you again, this time out in the hallway you went through every day to head back to Ramshackle.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” he asked, eyeing the nearest window.

Oh.

You followed his gaze, taking in the misty gray clouds and the watery blotches splattering against the window. The glass was completely covered in little water spots that decorated the glass, sliding down and combining with each other at an unreasonably fast rate.

Oh man, it was raining?

“No.” you laughed, beaming at him, “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Deuce cracked the smallest of smiles at your laugh, but you could tell he was still worried.

“We could try waiting out the storm…” Deuce suggested.

Silence. Neither of you spoke.

“Let's run.” you said, turning to face Deuce with a grin on your face that spelled nothing but mischief.

“And get wet?” Deuce furrowed his brow, “Why would we do that?”

He said that even though he knew he couldn’t say no to you.

“Because it’s fun.” you grabbed his hand, tugging him in the direction of the downpour, “Does Riddle have a rule against wet clothes or something?”

“Do you think I could remember if there was?” Deuce huffed, staring fiercely at where your hands connected.

“No.” you snickered, “And I wouldn’t remember either.”

Deuce didn’t have a second to react before you yanked him along, running into the rain and clearly expecting him to run with you, since your hand was still in his and you were squeezing even tighter and he swears the second a raindrop lands on his face it would evaporate.

It didn’t.

The rain is cool when it hit his skin, and he can hear your shrieks of delight as you let go of his hand and spin, throwing your hands up like you wanted to catch all of the raindrops. Vaguely, he feels his socks getting wet but he can’t even bring himself to hate the feeling when all he can stare at is you.

“Hey! What do you two think you’re doing out there?!”

The shout of someone makes you stop your twirling dance and look, but Deuce’s mind is too foggy with you to understand what's happening.

A flash of red hair appears in his vision as you raise your hand for a high five. He sees the person now, and it's Ace—thank goodness it’s Ace—and he’s high-fiving you and slinging an arm around your shoulders. You laugh and shove him off, and Ace fakes a wound right over his heart.

Deuce realizes two things.

One, you’re not actually dating him, which is frankly the more appalling one of the two.

Two, Ace thinks you’re dating and Deuce isn’t doing anything to convince him further that he’s actually dating someone like you.

“Yo, are you good?” Ace gives him a weird look, and that’s when Deuce realizes that you’re looking at him too and his throat dries up.

He never does know what you’re thinking, does he?

“I was walking them back to their dorm,” Deuce explains as if he needs an explanation even though nobody asked.

Ace looks from you to him, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I bet you were. That’s why I caught them dancing in the rain and you staring at them with your mouth hanging open like a goof.” he laughed, slapping Deuce on the back, “Have fun lovebirds, I’m off to meet up with Jamil and Floyd.”

Deuce couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze and Ace walked off, clearly thinking he’d done Deuce a favor.

“I’m not gonna lie,” you breathed, amusement in your voice, “I forgot we were supposed to be dating.”

He stops and thinks this over because despite his realization a few moments earlier, he’d forgotten too.

♠

Wednesday.

Wednesday is when you dealt with a third wheel.

After Tuesday, you both tried to drill the fact that you were supposed to be dating into your heads. It just seemed so natural to forget, especially when your relationship had always involved some physical contact (mostly courtesy of Ace.) You couldn’t have him getting suspicious, as he was still sour over the loss of his cherry pie—you weren’t as worried about Grim, since he was mostly interested in the food he’d get and not your love life, thankfully.

So Deuce asking you on this date was justified. To keep up with appearances, you two were headed to a cafe after school, however sketchy that cafe may be.

You planned on holding his hand on the way there, working towards getting him comfortable with physical affection.

You planned on watching in amusement as his face turned beet red.

You planned a nice afternoon with Deuce with refreshing drinks and delicious treats.

You did not plan on Ace tagging along.

Despite the redhead following a short distance behind the two of you, humming some tune to seem occupied while he blatantly stared at your intertwined hands. It would be so much harder to make Deuce comfortable now.

You sighed, briefly considering just giving up this farce and telling Ace it was a prank. That would also be funny, but you didn’t want to leave poor Deuce hanging.

Your brain halted for a second, stalling on the territory you never dared to explore. You paused. You looked over at Deuce, whose face was red and hands were sweaty and eyes were trained far ahead in the distance because if he looked at you he’d explode.

Okay, you weren’t an idiot. You thought Deuce was cute and had thought about him in a less than platonic way on multiple occasions (especially the fantasy of making him eggs in the morning after watching horror movies all night and having to comfort him.) Judging by the way he acted around you, he may have felt the same way as you did. You weren’t an idiot. The entire reason you wanted this to keep up wasn’t because of Ace or Grim.

You just wanted to see what Deuce would do by the end of the week.

“Let me get that for you.” Deuce murmured, letting go of your hand.

It was seconds later that you recognized the door to the cafe was open in front of you, Deuce staring at you expectantly.

Ah, so now he was avoiding Ace.

You smiled at him and walked through, waiting for him on the other side. Ace ceased his humming, shooting you a smug grin as Deuce took his place at your side again.

“Well, I hope you two didn’t think you were going to feed each other food or share a drink or something cheesy, because I think I’d throw up.”

Damn it.

♠

The cafe was pleasant enough.

Except for when Ace threw a straw at Deuce’s head.

Except for when Deuce kicked Ace under the table, and Ace kicked you instead of Deuce.

Except for when Deuce almost started yelling at Ace because how dare he do something so childish in public and to you no less—

Except for when one of the eel twins started laughing at the commotion you three were causing, his grin revealing his sharp teeth.

Except for when you had to tell Deuce to let it go and he looked at you for real and it was like the world stopped for a minute but then Ace started making fun of him again—

It was pleasant enough because Ace and Deuce were Ace and Deuce, and with the former acting as your third wheel, it could have gone much differently.

Deuce seemed to have apologized three times over by the time you were back at the dorms, convinced that Ace had messed up what you two had (first date jitters, you assumed. He wanted to make a good first impression, even though all of this was fake.)

Well, half of it was fake anyway.

You waited for him to stop talking about how sorry he was for Ace kicking you, asking if your leg felt okay, and saying he could go kick him back if you wanted him to. He sucked in a breath when he looked up from his shoes and realized you were staring at him again. You took your chance. You asked if he’d like a kiss. You watched as Deuce turned a million shades of red, his stomach no doubt doing flips from nerves.

Okay, yours was fluttering too. He was just not as good at hiding his as you were.

“If you don’t mind…could I give you one back?” he said so quietly as if terrified that you would run screaming for the hills at the idea of sharing affection.

“Please do.” you smiled, trying to ease his nerves even though it was so much fun seeing him flustered.

Your smugness dissipated when he leaned in, pressing a single, delicate kiss to your cheek. The breath had been sucked out of your lungs at the brush of skin and skin, the hand intertwined with yours squeezing and squeezing—

He pulled away too quickly, lips drawn into a thin line. Swallowing your nerves, you lean in and kiss his cheek as well. You let it linger just as he had, pulling away only when you felt his palm grow sweaty again.

His slack-jawed look was absolutely worth it.

♠

Thursday.

Thursday is when the realization happened.

Though, you wished it went a little smoother.

You found Deuce standing over a flower bed that morning, his hair tousled and face red. His flustered face fluttered across your mind for a moment, but you stamped the thought down when you saw the smashed vase at his feet.

Oh.

“Oh!” Deuce jumped, locking eyes with you, “Oh man, I thought you were Riddle.”

Wow, he must be really anxious if he mistook you for Riddle.

“He’s going to kill me.” Deuce murmured, combing a hand through his hair again, “I try so hard to be a good honors student and not get in anyone’s way but I keep messing up—”

“Hey.” you cupped his face, halting his train of thought immediately, “Hey. Calm down. I got this.”

There it was again. That same, slack-jawed look he always gave you. You smiled reassuringly, grabbing the hand that was dangling at his side and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Let me handle this. I promise I won’t let you get in trouble.” you wrapped your pinky around his and squeezed.

Before he had a chance to respond, you started dragging Deuce out of the gardens. It took him a second to realize that you were trying to find Riddle. His grip tightened as panicked yells filled his brain, but he tried to quell them as best as he could. Even if you were a little weird sometimes, he trusted your judgment.

“Housewarden Rosehearts?” you called, poking your head through the doorway to the dorms.

Deuce’s panic increased tenfold when the boy himself stepped into your view. He must have been surveying the dorms to make sure nobody had trashed them—though it's not like anyone would with him around (except for Ace, but there was always at least one exception.)

“I broke a vase in your garden by accident. I went to see Deuce this morning and tripped. I’m unfamiliar with the way things work in your dorm, but I’m aware that this clumsy mistake has caused an inconvenience for everyone here. Deuce told me I should tell you immediately and apologize. I’m so sorry for my actions.” your head was lowered through the entire speech, and Deuce couldn’t help but think you were laying it on thick.

Riddle sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could see his face turning bright red, a telltale sign that he was getting angry that you’d learned from both Ace and Deuce. Speaking of Deuce, he was gripping your hand so tight you thought he might cut off circulation. You made no move to acknowledge him though, 

“Very well.” Riddle breathed, seemingly handling himself with a lot more composure than you expected from the stories you heard from Ace and Deuce, “If you are to be here regularly to visit your romantic partner or friends, it would do you well to learn the rules. Next time I will not be so merciful. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Housewarden Rosehearts. I’m grateful.” you squeezed Deuce’s hand and turned on your heel, dragging him back out into the garden.

Once you were out of earshot, Deuce let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“How did you do that?” he hissed, eyes wide.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t want you to get in trouble.” you shrugged as if getting away with breaking a vase was nothing.

You really were amazing.

Deuce swallowed and began to let go of your hand, but you held him there.

“I don’t mind that your hand is sweaty.” you said, your voice sounding more like a demand than anything.

An unsaid demand for him to keep holding your hand.

You, with your pretty eyes and blinding smiles. You with your voice that could never get out of his head. You, with your pretty hands that he wanted to hold forever if he could, and you with your neverending tolerance for him.

Every time he messed up you reminded him of how good he was doing. You reminded him of what he stood for and why he tried so hard for the people he loved.

You reminded him that chances were to be taken, lest they slip away from you forever.

“I have to tell you something.” Deuce murmured, heart inching its way up his throat.

You stopped, still holding his hand in your grip, your fingers intertwined and Deuce could help but feel like he’d pass out.

Clenching his jaw, he reminded himself to not be a coward.

You stared. Waiting patiently, always waiting for him. He refused to make you wait any longer, especially not for him.

“I’m in love with—”

“Deuce.” you interrupted, bringing a shaky hand to cup his face and that’s when he knew you were just as nervous as he was right now and that made his heart flutter and sing and jump in his chest and briefly he wonders how it got back down there when he’s been so nervous but his throat doesn’t even feel tight anymore and—

“I know.” you smiled.

And that’s all you said.

“And I get it.”

Nevermind.

“What…What do you mean?” Deuce stuttered, his eyes wide and he’s certain his pupils are blown right now.

It’s like you’re the only thing that exists anymore.

“Do you want to stop this whole thing then?” you asked, letting go of his hand and he doesn’t even have the opportunity to be disappointed because you’re wrapping your arms around his neck—

But no.

He comprehends what you just said and his heart drops.

Do you want to stop?

“What does that mean?” he can feel his palms getting sweaty again, his heart racing, and blood rushing to his head.

“I mean, we can stop this now. This fake relationship we have going on. Unless I misunderstood you?” you also seem panicked, Deuce notes, as you slowly step away from him.

“You definitely didn’t.” he says, his arms dangling at his sides like dead weights, “But I’m really hoping that I’m misunderstanding you.”

“Deuce…you don’t want to keep up this front forever, do you? I mean the whole reason you asked me to do this was because of Ace. Don’t you want to make this official?”

Your words are falling out like water droplets from the clouds on that day you forgot you were dating when he stared at you with so much admiration.

His thoughts immediately grind to a halt as you say the word official and suddenly he’s light and happy and radiant instead of panicked.

“You want to date me?” he points to himself, as if the mere idea is preposterous, “What?”

“Yes!” you all but shout, throwing your hands up in the air, “I thought it would be funny to mess with Ace at first but I started realizing that I feel differently for you than I do him and that I want to be with you regardless of whatever hijinks we need to pull on Ace to get him back!”

“I—” Deuce stops himself like he’s processing everything you just said.

And you know. You understand, because he’s never been confronted like this before.

“You want to be with me.” he murmurs to himself, beginning to pace, “And I want…I want the same thing.”

“Deuce. Are we going to make this whole thing official now or not?” you grab his hand again, and he looks at you like you just asked him the most serious question in the world.

“Yeah. Yes. I’d like that.” he smiles.

And you smile back, as brilliantly beautiful as ever.

♠

Friday.

Friday is when you were confronted.

There was a noticeable change in Deuce’s attitude towards you, a switch from nervous and unsure to flustered and elated. He followed you around like a lost puppy, carrying your things as staring at you frequently. Ace was even more confused by this change in mood, if that was even possible. You thought it was charming, how quickly he switched, even if everyone around you two thought it was strange. You had no reason to believe you weren’t guilty of the same behavior, if the head pat you bestowed upon Deuce before heading into your second class of the day was an indication. You made sure you kept the public displays of affection on the down low though—you didn’t want to embarrass him too much, lest he be scared away.

“What is wrong with you two?” Ace grumbled, eyeing the two of you like he was personally offended.

“What do you mean?” you asked, tearing your eyes away from Deuce to look at your third wheel.

“You’ve been even mushier since the first few days. I thought it would get less gross.” Ace narrowed his eyes, “You guys are weird.”

There were a thousand things you could have said. You could tell Ace about how you and Deuce had been faking dating for only four days before cracking, you could tell him about the time you two gave each other kisses, you could tell him about how all of this started because Deuce had asked you to pretend to date him. Pretend to like him.

As if you needed to.

Instead, you laughed. Deuce exhaled sharply, a small smile on his face too.

“Guess it’s just weird how those things work.” you hummed, flicking Ace’s forehead.

He swatted your hand, snorting as you reached out more to whack him. Ace dodged, taking off down the hall with a taunting laugh. Deuce watched as you ran after Ace, his hand burning where you let go.

But this time, it wasn’t a burn of longing.

It was a burn of affection.

#auburn's fics <3 #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #i love deuce hes so rmhrpmhmr <33 #deuce spade fluff #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #twst grim

[softtdaisy]

DESCRIPTION I Charles doesn't ask for much, just for one last night with you before you leave him for good

PAIRING I Charles Leclerc × fem!reader

WORDS COUNT I 1,5k

A/N I Guess who's back with a sad story 👀 I feel so good to write again, I'm proud of this one and the way I wrote their night together so I hope you will love it too 🤍

“I’m going to say yes.”

Charles had some kind of habit for his Sunday after-race moments.

If he wins, he knows he won’t have much time for himself. He’ll rush to his hotel room after the celebration and get ready for the party. There is always one. 

If he doesn’t, he usually takes the time to decide if he wants to celebrate the race or not. Usually, he still goes. Either he still had a good race and went to cheer for that or he had a terrible one and wants to forget it. But he doesn’t rush. Most of the time, he waits a few hours before going.

It was quite reassuring for him to have these habits after having crazy and unpredictable weekends. Even if it was just silly things, like the type of shirts he wears for his sunday night.

So when he saw you in front of his hotel room, he knew his little habits were dead for this sunday.

He had seen you since you broke up. More time than he should have, to be honest.

The official excuse was that not only you were Carlos’ best friend but you were working on his social media, so of course you were around the paddock most of the time.

The non-official one was that you couldn’t resist falling back into each other's arms anytime you were in the same room.

It wasn’t a difficult break up. You were just not looking for the same thing at the same time. Charles wanted to settle down. You didn’t.

So even if you weren’t a couple, you still took advantage of the obvious attraction between you.

Again, there was something reassuring for Charles in not having to know someone new. He knew your body by heart. The way you open your mouth when he starts kissing your neck, exactly where he had to kiss you to make you moan, the spots of your beauty marks, every single curve of your body… Yes, Charles knew everything about you to the point he could make love to you with his eyes closed.

He pretended it was easier for him.

The truth was he was still deeply in love with you.

And maybe. Just maybe. Deep down, Charles hoped it would be an open door for you to reconcile one day.

Apparently you had other plans.

“You’re leaving?” he asked. He knew he sounded like a child to which you would announce moving out. He hated that. But that was exactly how he felt too.

Charles knew that you weren’t happy with your life right now. As much you loved Carlos, as much as you enjoyed watching the races and being able to travel with the guys, there was something off. It wasn’t your world. Carlos offered you this place because you didn’t have anything and didn’t want you to stay alone in your homeplace. And you would never turn your nose up at what he did.

But you didn’t want your life to be like that forever.

A fashion brand had seen your work through influencers that came to the race. And like a pure romcom magic, you got a job offer. Everyone encouraged you to say yes. Charles being beyond the first person to tell you you should accept it. Because he couldn’t let you let your dream go. 

He ignored until today that it would mean watching you leave.

“This was my last weekend.” 

If you were happy about finally finding your dream job, you were heartbroken.

You loved being around.

You loved seeing your best friend every weekend.

You loved Charles. Still.

“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. And it wouldn’t have been right to do it in front of everyone so…” You looked down, feeling shy suddenly in front of the man that had seen you in every single way. You felt vulnerable. Naked. But you would rather feel like that than feeling remorseful for not seeing him one last time.

Charles didn’t answer you immediately. At least, not verbally. He walked to you and took your face between his hands, letting both his thumb brush your chin like he loved to. It was something he never stopped doing, even after your break up.

It was something intimate for him. Almost like he had his world in his hands and felt like he could control everything.

“I’m happy for you.” he whispered, putting his forehead against yours.

From outside, he might sound fake. Because you could hear the sadness in his voice. You could see the sadness in his eyes. You could feel his shaky hands against your cheeks.

But Charles had a pure heart. And never the sadness of watching you leave would take over the happiness of seeing you achieve your dreams.

You stayed like that for a good minute, with your eyes closed. Just the two of you, together, in the silence of the hotel hall. It was calm before the storm. Before everyone arrives here. Before the party. Before the craziness of your new life starts. Holding this moment and wishing it could last longer.

“I just have one request.” 

You opened your eyes to look at Charles again. You noticed the little frown between his eyes, making you think he had been thinking about what he was going to say. You didn’t need any words and simply gave him a look that invited him to talk. For a second you thought he would drop the idea. 

You couldn’t count the amount of time you thought Charles was going to say something about your relationship but no words actually left his mouth. His fear of losing you was so strong. But then again, he was losing you tonight. So maybe there were no boundaries anymore. 

“If this is our last night together… remind me how it feels to be loved by you.”

“Charles…” You were speechless. How could you say no to this? How could you even say anything to this? Of course you wanted that too. Before you could say one more word, Charles put the slightles and purest kiss on your lips. 

“I’m not sure I will ever be able to love someone the way I love you.”

You tried to ignore the pain in your heart when you noticed he was still talking about love in the present. Not in the past.

But what a terrible liar you would be if you didn’t admit you still feel the same.

So you wrapped your hands around his neck, accepting his request. Accepting to fall in his arms one more time.

One last time.

With one hand in your back, holding you tight, Charles opened the door to his room with his free hand. He couldn’t leave your lips, he couldn't ever get enough. It was like an addictive thing. Knowing he won’t ever taste it after tonight, Charles needed to take as much as he could to remember it.

You didn’t need any words to know what the other wanted. You let Charles guide you to his bed, with his free hand now curled in your hair in a way that made you moan against his lips. You could feel him grown against your legs. You were both craving for more.

So you let Charles take off your top, with his lips discovering one last time every single centimeter of your skin. Your neck, your collarbone, the space between your breast. Every kiss was like a blessing, an invisible tattoo you will keep forever. And when he fell down on his knees to pursue his quest, you knew you were going to lose it.

Your hands got lost on his hair when his lips decided to go lower on your body. You couldn’t think about anything that Charles.

Charles and his kisses.

Charles and his secret power to make you lose your head.

Charles and the infinite love that you will always have for him.

And when you finally fell down on his bed, with his body on top of yours, it was like the best beautiful finale of your favorite ballet. Everything was coordinated. Charles knew your body by heart and knew exactly what to do to make you feel good.

No, not just good. Amazingly good.

Every move was just perfect. At some point, you even took his chains in your mouth to bring him closer to you. Having no idea that you, looking at him directly in the eyes while beating his own necklaces was making lost everything that was on his mind. He wanted to picture this moment forever. To look at it once you’ll be gone and he’ll be himself. Because Charles knew that he could never find anyone like you.

“What about your party?” you finally asked him with a broken voice after moaning too much and too loud for too long. You had your face on his chest and your fingers tracing every line of it. He wasn’t the only one trying to memorize every little piece of you.

“I don’t care. You’re all that matters tonight.” He replied, kissing your hair.

And you stayed in silence like this for a while. Just enjoying the caress you were giving each other, the soft smiles you could feel and see per moment and just the pure happiness of being with the only person you would ever truly love in your life.

Maybe you were just too perfect for each other that the world got jealous of your love and couldn’t handle it.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x readeer #f1 story #my writing

[leejungchans]

seventeen as streamer boyfriends

༉‧₊˚✧ for my 1k event !

requested by anon : is streamer au on the table for the 1k event :0 if it is then can i request hcs of svt as ur streamer bf :3 if not then u can just ignore this / change it up , no worries !! thenkuu n congrats on the 1k :D

a/n: thank you so much for the well wishes and for requesting 💗 i hope you like this and i had a lot of fun writing this!!

word count | 1.6k

pairing | seventeen x gn!reader

genre | fluff, streamer au

note | i’m not a gamer by any means so there’s a lot of gaming terminology/games that idk, so most of the games mentioned here i looked up online 💔 also tyty to my lovely nny @joshuas @seungcy for helping me w some of these <3

warning(s) / includes | mild swearing, food mentions

⋆͛♡⋆͛ seungcheol

definitely a gamer. gets really, really competitive and probably lets a few muttered curses slip when he loses, before realising he’s streaming live and turns to the camera with an innocent smile, like “if you’re a child please pretend you never heard anything ☺️”. no one’s really complaining though because he’s attractive when he’s frustrated, especially whenever his jaw clenches and he rolls up his sleeves before starting over. his viewers always know when you’re around because he always has the most lovesick smile as he looks off-camera and mouths something to you, usually a “hi, baby” or asking if you want to come say hi to everyone. he’s literally soooo boyfie and his viewers always joke about wanting to steal him from you…that is, until you started appearing more in his streams and now they want to steal you, which makes him so pouty.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ jeonghan

mostly games during his streams and yells when he loses or dies unexpectedly, his viewers don’t really mind because his yells sound really cute. sometimes he’ll join public servers and when he comes across snobby, entitled kids he makes it a very personal mission to humble them. “hannie, did you just make another twelve-year-old rage quit?” “mm…maybe…” prefers to keep your identity private, but during some particularly stressful games he’ll ask for cuddles and his viewers can see him wrapping his arms around your torso, squishing his cheek against you with a pout on his face while he whines about how hard the game is. a menace (affectionate), will have asmr streams just so he can suddenly scream and scare the shit out of everyone, no one knows why they still fall for it.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ joshua

the softest, most wholesome streamer. everyone wants him and wants to be him. streams a wide variety of content from baking and cooking to jamming sessions where he plays his guitar and covers different songs. regardless, his streams always look really aesthetically pleasing, especially during his jamming sessions when he changes his colour-changing light to blue or purple for the ~vibes~. everyone loves his voice because it’s so dreamy and melodic, so despite him involving sunday morning in every. single. stream. no one tells him to stop. talks about you all the time and it’s just so painfully obvious how in love he is because everything reminds him of you. “i’m making ___ for dinner because it’s their favourite”, “i saw a really cute cat today and it looked so much like them”, “i wonder when they’ll be home, they’ve been gone for a while”. (it’s only been half an hour…)

⋆͛♡⋆͛ jun

another gamer! usually pretty quiet when he’s gaming except when he lets out loud groans or yells after losing, think jeonghan’s asmr from hell except in jun’s case the sudden sounds are unintentional 😭 when he gets especially heated he starts rambling or swearing in mandarin and it’s so fast that barely anyone can catch what he’s saying. takes a break from gaming by streaming more chill content, like answering his viewers’ questions while inviting you to take the most absurd buzzfeed quizzes with him like “which unpopular pizza topping matches your personality”. makes your stomach hurt from laughing every time because he gets oddly (yet endearingly) defensive about the results since they’re never accurate. (“what the fuck is ‘anchovy’ supposed to mean???”)

⋆͛♡⋆͛ soonyoung

tried to play the more intense games like league of legends, call of duty and five nights at freddy’s before realising they’re not really his thing, so now he streams himself playing animal crossing and it’s soooo wholesome. his house is tiger-themed from the wallpaper to the flooring to the decor, and his viewers are 120% supportive of his mission to collect all the tiger villagers for his island for max horangi power 🐯✊ sometimes you’ll play too and it’ll consist of at least ten minutes of you two chasing and whacking each other with your nets while giggling manically. he also started occasionally streaming him dancing or creating new choreographies and his duality always shocks those who are new to his channel.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ wonwoo

the Ultimate™ gamer bf, you can’t change my mind—he was made for this au. sometimes he’s so focused on the game that he forgets he’s streaming and all you hear is the sound of furious typing, but he makes up for it by looking cute in the cat-ear headphones that you got him. you didn’t expect him to wear them while streaming, but ever since you gifted him those headphones he has never gone back to his previous ones. he later bought you the same cat-ear headphones but in a different colour so you could match <3 gives really good advice when he’s chatting to his viewers in between games and they love how soft-spoken and wise he is.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ jihoon

most of his streams are him pulling all-nighters in his studio working on music, even if he’s not particularly chatty in those times he still really appreciates having his viewers’ company because it can sometimes get lonely being cooped up inside :( but ever since he started dating you, you make frequent appearances on his streams to chat with his viewers while holding his hand as he works <3 if he’s feeling cheeky he’ll tease his soon-to-be-released song (everyone went crazy over “shit, this is red too”). somehow became friends with soonyoung which treated his viewers to interesting autotuned raps about being a tiger……rawr.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ seokmin

has the voice of an angel, so he blesses us mortal folk by streaming his heavenly song covers. brings his friends (cough, joshua, cough) to sing duets with him whenever possible. the sweetest boy on the platform and does his best to respond to every live comment even though they whizz by so quickly </3 it’s impossible to feel sad when you’re watching his streams, every bit of him radiates positive energy. occasionally does more lifestyle-esque streams, usually of you two running errands together. one time you two rated all the dogs you came across on the street from 1-10. (spoiler: every dog got 11)

⋆͛♡⋆͛ mingyu

the malewife of the platform who games occasionally. his viewers think it’s both hilarious and adorable when a beefy, six-foot man curls up into a tiny ball while playing horror games. (playfully) flirts with his viewers and gives the camera seductive glances, but panics when it leads to a sudden influx of tips and begs people to stop giving him money 😭 constantly demands cuddles and kisses when he loses a game. his viewers love watching his cooking streams where he tests out new recipes because it’s really just him doing 90% of the work but still acting like you won masterchef for cutting one (1) onion. never gets annoyed when you sneak bites of food in between preparations, he thinks you’re cute <3

⋆͛♡⋆͛ minghao

think modern bob ross where he invites his viewers to grab a snack and relax as he paints whatever inspires him in the moment. everyone is begging for a closet tour at this point because he’s never worn a bad outfit from the day he started his channel. asmr not from hell: also does streams where he makes paint from scratch because the sounds of him grinding pigments or his palette knife gently scraping against the glass are very soothing. occasionally he’ll invite you to do cute couple challenges with him, like following a bob ross video but with audio only which always ends in a fit of contagious giggles during the moment of truth.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ seungkwan

such a sweet person :( is here to have a good time, so he’s pretty active and loves doing chatty streams where he plays trivia games with his viewers. keeps up with the gossip especially if you’re a long-time viewer, will absolutely ask you for updates on your pet goldfish stacy. did you buy her a bigger tank like you said you would last time? regularly streams with vernon where they play games like quiplash, questions their friendship and his life every time vernon comes up with a cursed answer. his viewers love whenever you join him while he’s watching true crime documentaries, there’s just something so endearing about you two stuffing your faces with snacks while complaining about how incompetent the authorities responsible for those unsolved cases were.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ vernon

unbothered king, here for the vibes. @/seungcy says he’s the type to play valorant and stare into the camera like 😳 when he wins. has really good taste in music and graphic tees, probably has tons of vinyl records lying in the back or hanging on the walls. makes seungkwan heavily question their friendship with his quiplash answers. started weekly movie watches because he’ll take any excuse to rewatch the shrek movies. the two of you are also on a mission to rank the barbie movies though you always get distracted by the songs and end up belting them at the top of your lungs. it’s okay, his viewers forget about your rankings too because you look so cute resting your head on his shoulder with his hand on your knee <3 (island princess has yet to be dethroned)

⋆͛♡⋆͛ chan

kinda sucks at games (affectionate) but he makes up for it with determination and perseverance, and his viewers let it slide because he’s cute. asks for game recommendations and regrets it every time because people won’t stop making him play the spooky ones. is terrified and flinches at the tiniest noises but will vehemently deny it. no one is allowed to bring up the time he screamed when you barged into the room asking him what type of pizza to order. also likes watching romance movies/shows while you’re wearing your matching hoodies and cuddling. if you see him crying at the sad parts just move along and don’t point it out <3 he’s cute ig.

a/n: writing this was fun!! tysm for reading and i hope you liked it!!

please reblog and/or give feedback if you enjoyed my writing ! support the creators and content you wish to continue seeing <3

#ficscafe #caratwritersclub #kdiarynet #sol.writings #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen headcanons #svt headcanons #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua hong x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #mingyu x reader #dokyeom x reader #minghao x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: Hiii Im back from my mini break :) I wanted to write more, but I wanted the next chapter to begin a certain way so I’m making this one short hehe. Excuse any typos and grammatical errors. Miguel probs being ooc

(Y/N)- Your Name

Cursing, funny little hehe drama, Miguel being Jealous, ansty (?) (Like, If you squint)

Word count: 1k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 9: Until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee.

—

It’s been 3 weeks.

It’s been 3 weeks since you were in that practice room with Miguel O’Hara.

It’s been 3 weeks since you kissed Miguel O’Hara.

It’s been 3 weeks since you started to avoid Miguel O’Hara.

You didn’t do it on purpose, at least not at first. The day after the very overdue make out session, you told yourself that you would wait a day or two before you talked to him about it, in an attempt to get all your thought in order. Then, that day or two turned into three… then four, then a week, then 3… and at this point, it would be too awkward if you finally decided to face him. What were you even supposed to say after ignoring him for 3 weeks? “Hey Miguel, sorry I basically ghosted you after we made out, even though I said I’ll talk to you afterwards.” You’d rather die of embarrassment. So now you found yourself purposely avoiding him, and although your boy problems should be the last of your problems, they wouldn’t leave your mind.

As you came out of the bathroom, tossing your hairbrush onto your semi-messy bed, you let out a heavy sigh as you saw Kate finish fixing the whiteboard calendar that hung in your dorm room for the new month of October, on the third Friday, she had wrote “MIDTERMS,” in big red Expo marker, and on the following Friday she had written “REGIONALS” in the same way. The two words made your stomach twisted, and for once in the past three weeks, your mind was finally off the topic of the hockey player you had kissed.

“You know staring at the board won’t make those words go away.” Kate said, snapping you out of your thoughts as she capped the Expo marker, you let out lips curl down into a frown and your thumb’s fingernail started to tap repeatly on the surface on your ringer finger’s nail, a habit you've developed when you're nervous, because you knew she was right.

“Can’t you let me pretend at least?” You were joking of course, before making your way over to where you had your gym back half-hazardly thrown at the foot of your bed, zipping it open and checking of all your skating gear was in the bag.

“You’re overly stressed, what is it? Midterms, Regionals, or Miguel?” She asked with a head tilt, hey eyebrow going up with the question.

“All the above…” you mumbled under your breath as you finish rummaging through your bag before zipping it close and throwing it over you shoulder.

“You’ve got this.” Kate sent you a sympathetic smile, which you returned before leaving your shared dorm.

—

You told yourself no skating on the weekends as an attempt to keep yourself from over stressing yourself, but here you were, in the middle of the rink on the first of October, on a Sunday. To be fair, you weren’t practicing, you were just going to practice some jumps and spins, holding to get your mind off everything that’s been transpiring in your messy life. It was honestly a miracle that when you arrived that the rink was empty. You were in the middle of going over your triple lutz, each time you came back down on the ice your landing was wobbly, that is if you landed it. Most of the time you couldn't land it at all, it’s a move you’ve been trying to perfect for months now. Hoping to have it down before coach Kavinsky could have choreographed the long program in hopes to get more points from the judges, but unfortunately you still had too much trouble with it. It would have been a risky move to put it in the program.

“You should probably take a break from that move before you end up black and blue.” The voice rang out through the empty rink, causing you to lose concentration and fumbling the move again.

“Fucking hell, Logan. You should know you can’t do that shit…” you groaned as you slowly gathered yourself to get your body off the ice after falling. Logan chuckled and shook his head, his hands going into his pockets as he walked towards the entrance of the rink, taking the guards off his skates.

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right…” He mumbled with a small smile as he helped you up, “I just wanted to check on you. I know you like to come here when you’re stressed.” He added in a more serious tone.

“Yeah I’m…” your words trail off, a heavy sigh leaving through your nose instead. Logan, already knowing your answer just gave you a sympathetic frown, rubbing your shoulder before pulling you into a hug.

—

“She’s already told you that she’s not dating Logan-“

“I don’t care Peter.” Miguel growled, leaving the stadium, shoving past the front doors and angry stomped to his car in the parking lot. Peter followed behind him. While you and Logan were in the middle of your beautiful friendship moment of reassurance, neither of you noticed Miguel nor Peter making their way to the ice with their gear on and hockey sticks in hand. But upon seeing you embracing your skating partner, he quickly turned back around and made his way back into the locker room, changed back into his regular clothes, then (quietly) storming off and out of the building. “You expect me to believe that bullshit!? She’s all over him, like she wasn’t all over me 3 weeks ago!” He yelled as he throws open his back car door and angrily throws his bag and hockey stick into the back seat, Peter also putting his stuff in the back, but in a more calm manner.

“Miguel, that’s her skating partner. Not to mention her best friend.” Peter tries to reason with his friend as they both go into the car. “Obviously they’re gonna be close. If she was dating Logan, do you really think she would have let you kiss her? Let alone return the kiss?”

Miguel didn’t respond to Peter’s question, instead just letting out a small huff of air and a grunt. His hands gripping onto the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles began to turn white.

If you wanted to play that kind of game, then fine. He’ll play. He’s the best player on the team after all, this little cat and mouse will be easy for him.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @migueloharaspookiebear @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #on thin ice fanfic #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #figure skating au #hockey au #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 fanfic

[laufeysodinson]

Hell Loop

Pairing: Chris Evans x Actress!Reader

Rating: G

Warning/s: angst but then i promise it’s worth it in the end 🥹🫶🏼

Summary: “where did we go wrong?”

A/n: made me cry while i was writing. STILL inspired by after i do by taylor jenkins reid, and a little bit of cardigan by taylor swift :) OH I WAS ALSO LISTENING TO THIS LOVE BY TAYLOR SWIFT AND IT’S LITERALLY THE PERFECT SONG

there’s a line in after i do which says “just because you can live without someone doesn’t mean you want to” and UGHHHHHHH that was good. here’s my version of needing to separate for your own growth! enjoy! not proofread lol, please bear with possible errors!

pics used were found on pinterest!

“Where did we go wrong?” You sniffled, wiping your face even though the tears never seemed to stop falling. You and Chris were sitting on the ground, backs against the couch as the question lingered in the air.

You felt him turn his head to look at you, not able to answer your question.

Silence.

Not as comfortable as the one you both had been used to for the past two years.

In fact, it had been a while since the silence wasn’t deafening instead of comforting. Both of you never felt the need to fill the quiet with unnecessary noise and conversation. It always just seemed natural, until one day it felt like all you did was try. And try. And try.

And when you did try, it just seemed to piss off the both of you more and more every time.

Where did it all go wrong?

You didn’t know how long you both sat there after the umpteenth argument that started when you found an empty milk carton still in the fridge. It was funny at first, one of his annoying habits that seemed cute and was something you adored about him. But after two years of repeated “please throw it out next time,” “sorry, honey. I will.” conversations and apologetic forehead kisses you’d grown tired of it.

Endearing annoying habits turned into something both of you couldn’t stand about each other.

“No, tell me more about your day” turned into “I’m too tired to listen to this.”

Not being able to sleep after an argument turned into snoring after a whole day of not talking to each other at all.

It felt different today. No more apologetic kisses and promises to do better next time.

But there was a forehead kiss—one last time. “I’m sorry. I love you,” whispered between two lovers who knew it was better to be apart than stay together and ruin each other forever.

And so you moved out, saying goodbye to everything you’d been used to for the past two years. You said goodbye to Dodger, who just had his head tilted while he sat and stared at you when you were packing your stuff. You said goodbye to hearing him play the piano during Sunday afternoons. You said goodbye to hearing surprised screams every time Scott was around to prank the both of you. You said goodbye to early morning hikes, stopping by creeks to admire its view and sharing secret kisses, pretending you weren’t out of breath from all the walking.

Days, weeks, and months passed, it somehow got leaked to the press that you and Chris broke up. Make no mistake, of course there were haters and bashers who never seemed to tire of criticizing the both of you. They celebrated, cheered as you mourned, saying that the PR relationship was finally over.

But there was the other side, who seemed to grieve with the two of you. The other side that cheered the both of you individually as life went on and the sun shone everyday (even though it didn’t really feel like it). Movie after movie, hundreds of press interviews, award shows, and hollywood parties.

Life went on and both of you learned that you could survive without each other. But you couldn’t really live without each other, could you?

And three years after the two of you officially ended it, you’d seen each other for the first time at a party you were forced to go to by your manager.

You were talking to a man who very so clearly loved talking about himself and absolutely couldn’t take a hint after your fifth, “wow! That’s crazy!”

Until you heard someone exclaim “Hey! Y/n! It’s been a while!” Wait. You knew that voice.

Your head whipped to the sound, wondering if maybe there was something else laced in the drink you’d been sipping all night. “Chris?” You breathed out in shock, reaching out absentmindedly as he pulled you into a hug.

Breathing in and smelling his familiar scent (gucci guilty? he still uses that after all these years?), you closed your eyes, letting yourself get used to the feeling of his arms around you once again.

Both of you pulled away, the man you were talking to casting the both of you confused looks. “Wait—aren’t you both exe-“ but Chris interrupted saying, “Hey man, can I steal her off for a bit? We haven’t seen each other in years.”

Still confused, the man slowly nodded, carrying his drink off and walking off to whoever knows where. “Chris,” you repeated, still in shock. Your hand was now resting on his bicep, and his on your waist.

“Geez, yes, it’s me, Chris! I think your brain is broken,” He joked, reaching a hand towards your face and tapping your temple. You blinked, still surprised that he was in front of you and even joking with you.

He stared at you nervously. Maybe I shouldn’t have joked around too quickly?

But then you slapped his arm, your face breaking out into a grin and he tried (and failed) to dodge your attack. What he didn’t see was a server who was right next to him carrying a tray of drinks.

You watched with wide eyes as the tray went out of balance on the server’s hand and almost all of the drinks spilled on Chris. Everyone stopped schmoozing and talking to each other to look at the two of you, the both of you immediately apologizing and helping to clean up the mess.

A few minutes later, both of you were in the bathroom trying and failing to wipe up the alcohol that had already seeped into Chris’ clothes. He was wearing a white polo shirt with gray pants, and you snorted, trying to keep yourself from laughing as you turned your back on him to throw away the tissues you’d used up.

“What?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He was already smirking even though he didn’t know what was so funny.

You pressed your lips together as you looked back at him, glancing down quickly and looking into his eyes once again. You weren’t subtle at all, so he looked down and groaned, knowing what you were laughing at. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He grumbled, but the corner of his mouth curved up so you knew he wasn’t really annoyed at all.

You burst out laughing, “y-you… did you pee your… oh my god…” You couldn’t even continue, laughing so hard that your cheeks started hurting and you were sure that you’d wake up with 8-pack abs the next morning.

Chris uncrossed his arms, leaning with one hand on the sink. He was smiling at you, and it was the kind that made you just want to run up into his arms and stay there forever.

Unfortunately for him, you were too busy laughing.

And that was how it all started again.

You were scared, knowing that the first time almost made you both despise each other. But now you were older, a few years wiser, a thousand times better at communicating your needs and a little less toxic to others you dated after each other.

enews

Liked by fanaccount and others

enews Chris Evans and Y/n spotted sharing a kiss in Los Angeles. Are they FINALLY back together?! Link in bio for more details.

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y/nfan HOLY FUcKING SHIT

cevansforever AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RISE AND SHINE MORHERFUCKEBRS ❤️💜🤍🧡💛🤎💚💙❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹❣️💞💓💗💘

randomperson who are these people??

And a year after that night, he picked you up from the airport, coming home to Massachusetts exhausted after two weeks of press for a movie of yours that just came out. You bought chinese food for take out and you were parked outside the store, eating your food inside the car.

“How was the trip, sweetheart?” He asked, opening up the food and handing it to you. And then he listened intently to your story, with you wildly gesturing your hand around with the chopsticks in between your fingers. When he laughed with you after you told him the crazy story about your co-star’s giant dog chasing around a squirrel that had somehow gotten inside the hotel, you quietly said “I missed you, though.”

“Hm? What was that?” He teased, his eyebrow going up.

You rolled your eyes lovingly, leaving the chopsticks you were holding inside takeout box and putting the container in between your thighs. You reached both of your hands towards his face, squishing his cheeks.

“I missed you sooooo much, guppy!” You exclaimed, and squishing his face even more. He was laughing, trying to say “I mished you too” but it came out all funny because of how you were holding his face.

You let go, the both of you snickering and smiling at each other at a random parking lot in Massachusetts.

He pulled off his cap, placing it over your head. Your eyebrows rose, “wow, to what do I owe the honors of wearing your hat?”

He laughed, that “hehehe” making your heart flutter inside your chest. And then he just smiled at you, staring at you and seeming to study your face. Your face was heating up and you knew that if you touched your cheeks it would’ve felt like you had a fever.

He reached inside his pocket, pulling out something you couldn’t quite see because it was easily covered by his large hand.

He let out a breath and looked at you, still with your brows raised in question as to what was happening. “What is it, babe? Tell me.” You said softly, putting your hand on his thigh and stroking it comfortingly.

Your brain couldn’t quite comprehend it when he opened up his hand and lifted the top of what he was holding. His hands were shaking, and the first thing that came into your mind was “oh that’s sparkly.” OH WAIT THAT’S SPARKLY-

You gasped, your eyes shifting towards his and both of you immediately tearing up.

“Yes!!!”

He laughed again, his right hand going to his left pec. “Honey, I haven’t even asked you yet!”

“Well—okay, sorry! Go on!”

He sighed happily, holding your left hand with his right.

“I had a speech and all—but honestly it just went straight out of my mind when I took out this ring and you just immediately said yes with no hesitation at all.” He paused, pondering on what to say next.

“The years we spent without each other was one of the hardest things I’d ever gone through. Especially when we realized that maybe we didn’t make each other happy anymore.” Tears started falling down your faces, remembering how difficult it was for you to not pick up the phone and beg him to take you back.

He looked straight into your eyes and said, “But without a doubt I know I’d go through it all over again because now I know that it would still lead me to you. That it would lead to this.” He chuckled, sniffling. “You’d asked me before which memory would replay over and over again if I was stuck in some sort of punishment in hell—a hell loop, you said?” You nodded.

“I’d pick those three years I wasn’t with you, because there’s comfort in knowing that the next ones after that I’d spend the rest of my life with you.”

You were now an absolute mess, trying not to sob too loud as you listened to his impromptu speech.

He let go of your hand, touching your face to wipe the tears away. He took the ring from the box, the both of you waiting in anticipation for him to finally ask you the question.

“So,” you already knew he was going to joke about it first because there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Will you hold this ring for me until I find the on-ow!” You laughed with tears still streaming down your face as you hit him, “stop being such an asshole!”

He snickered, “alright, alright!”

Now turning serious, he grinned. “You ready for this?”

“Chris, I swear to god. I am going to say no if you keep—” and this man… This man you loved so dearly with all that you had in you shushed you and put his finger on your lips.

“Will you marry me, y/n?”

yourusername

#chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans angst #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans x actress!reader

[j0hnj4ej3n]

asking nct dream "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: food (under Jaemin’s)

Notes: hellu! i came to post something short! i’m sorry for not posting in a while, i hope everyone’s been doing well <3 i had fun writing this after joking about how some of the dreamies would react with a friend. i hope you guys have a wonderful rest of the week ahead! sending lots of love <3

𔘓 Mark:

Poor guy was peacefully strumming on his guitar while you’re lying next to him on the bed when you suddenly shot up from your position. “Mark… tell me something honestly.” You begin as you lightly hold his arm to get his full attention on you. He looks at you slightly confused, almost concerned as he places his guitar back on its stand. He stares at you with his brown, boba eyes, waiting for you to continue. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” “Huh?” “Would you??” “Dude, I thought you were going to ask me something serious…” You fight the chuckle that’s threatening to come out and tell him that you were 100% serious. “So? What is it, Mark Lee? Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Mark sighs and then chuckles to himself before he goes, “Yes babe, I would still love you if you were a worm.” You can’t help but laugh too, “Good, that’s what I thought. Just saying, if you were a worm, I would still love you too” Mark can’t fight the urge to tackle you onto the bed just because he simply found you so cute, your limbs are tangled together and laughter would echo through your shared room. “You’re too cute, what am I supposed to do with you?”

𔘓 Renjun:

“Love, would you love me if I was a worm?” you ask Renjun as the two of you were walking around the grocery store. He doesn’t respond, only letting out a soft sigh. “Why are you ignoring me? Would you still-” “Don’t say stuff like that in public, people can hear you…” You gasped and was about to start pretending to get upset when Renjun mumbles out a “Why do you like to ask me these questions, my answers are always the same anyways”. He takes a bag of your favourite chips off the shelf as he continues, “I always say yes and you always doubt me” “Because, logically, why would you?” “If I say no you’ll get upset” “So you don’t mean it, you’re just saying it so I won’t get upset?” “My love, I am not going to start this in the middle of a grocery aisle” “Touch your heart right now, would you still love me if I were a worm?” Renjun places his index finger on his lips because there were others who just got to the aisle you two were in. But with one hand on his chest, he says, “Yes I would”. You smile to yourself before you quickly respond with “Okay but I wouldn’t if you were a worm though, I’m scared of worms” “But you know it’s me, why would you be scared?” And this discourse would last all the way till you’re both packing your groceries into the back of the car, not caring who hears or judges the two of you. In the end, you both agreed that you would both still love each other even if one of you were a worm.

𔘓 Jeno:

The two of you are eating jellies while watching some random movie on the TV. It’s a slow, lazy Sunday and both you and Jeno have been cuddling and snacking on the couch. Though you were comfortable – lying on your boyfriend’s chest while munching away on jellies – you were almost bored to death because you lost the plot of this movie midway. The question suddenly popped into your head and you decided to ask Jeno just to see his reaction. “Jen?” He hums in reply, his hand rubbing your back delicately. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Jeno’s hand on your back stills and he lifts his head slightly to look at you. You can’t tell if he was confused, or trying not to laugh at you. “Why would you suddenly ask me that?” “Just tell me honestly, I promise I won’t get upset even if you say no.” Jeno squints at you before he lies back down, continuing his movements on your back as you continue to look at him. “Yea, I suppose I’ll still love you if you were a worm. I'll take extra care of you too… even though I’m not too sure what worms eat” You coo at his reply and snuggle closer and Jeno just holds you closer and chuckles. After a brief moment of silence, Jeno suddenly mumbles, almost shyly,  “What about you… would you still love me if I was a worm?” 

𔘓 Haechan:

Haechan’s driving, his focus is on the road but he has one hand on your thigh like he always does when he’s on the road. You’re just scrolling through your phone when you come across a tiktok with the question. He’s singing to Where Do I Fit In by Justin Bieber while tapping to the slow beat against your thigh when you decide to ask him. “Baby, can I ask you something?” “What is it baby?” You quickly open your camera app to film his reaction. Once you hit record, you asked, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Haechan glances at you and sees your phone as he laughs at your question, “Should I tell you the truth?” “Of course” “Okay then… no” And he only keeps laughing after taking a peek at your reaction, your jaw hangs open at his unexpected answer. “If I’m still a person, why would I like a worm? Baby, think about it… would YOU love me if I became a worm?” “Of course I would!” “You’re lying, I won’t even be able to talk to you.” “Exactly, that’s one less person to annoy me. I might even love you more if you became a worm.” Haechan scoffed as he stopped at a redlight. He does his signature annoyed expression, where his tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek. “I was only joking, you know? But now, if you were a worm, I’ll just use you as fish bait.”  You can’t help but laugh at his pettiness but you soon yelp and stop recording when Haechan pinches your thigh lightly before the traffic light turns green and he starts driving again. 

𔘓 Jaemin:

“Jaem, would you still love me if I was a worm?” You asked while you’re watching him cook dinner. He turns around to look at you, as if he heard you wrong. “If you were a worm?” “Mhm” “Hmm, let me think about it.” You laugh and walk over to him, leaning your cheek against his shoulder as you take a whiff of the food. You sigh in bliss, you’re so excited to just devour the food already. “If you’re a worm, am I also a worm?” Jaemin asks as he blocks you with his arm so that you would be a safe distance away from the hot pan as he walks to the counter to plate the food. “I guess you could be? But you could be just as you are right now too.” Jaemin hums in understanding, and nods to your plate, asking you to eat first. You give him a quick peck on the cheek as a ‘thank you’ before you sit down at the counter seat and pick up your utensils to dig in. “I would love you if you were a worm, but I want to be a worm too. It’s hard to be together if I’m still a person don’t you think?” You only nod, too distracted by the food to think about anything else. Jaemin chuckles at you before he wipes the corner of your lips that was stained with sauce, “Is it good?” “It’s so so good, honey. You’re the best~” And Jaemin stares at you lovingly for a bit more before he starts eating, you look so endearing when you’re enjoying your food. “Even if we’re worms, I’d still cook delicious food for you.”

𔘓 Chenle: 

You and Chenle are walking Daegal at the park downstairs when you were reminded by the conversation you had with your friends earlier that day. So, you decided to ask Chenle too. “Chenle, would you still love me if I was a worm?” “What? A worm?” And you nodded. “No.” You’re not too surprised because you told your friends the same thing. How were you even supposed to fall in love with a worm? “Right? That’s what I told my friends too.” “How am I going to love you if I can’t even communicate with you? I don’t speak worm-language.” You laugh at that as you stated your own reasons too. You looked at Daegal walking with a bounce to her step beside the two of you and said, “I’ll love you if you were a dog though.” “I’m sorry baby, I only love one dog. Isn’t that right baby?” Chenle said as he picked Daegal up. “Okay, if Daegal and I fell into the water at the same time who-” “Baby, don’t even finish the question. You know you’ll only get upset.” You shot him a glare, “Don’t be stupid, save Daegal. I can swim just fine!” Chenle laughs as he pulls you close with his free hand and kisses the side of your head. “Alright, alright. You know I love you just as you are.” 

𔘓 Jisung:

Jisung wasn’t sure he heard you right so he just laughed. But you’re staring at him with your doe eyes, waiting for an answer and his face fell. “Wait, did you just ask if I would still love you if you were a worm?” “Yeah, I did” Jisung is simply amused at the question and he begins to think about it as if you were really going to turn into a worm in the next 10 minutes. “Baby, I won’t get upset, you know? It’s just a meme that’s going around online.” “I would.” He says before he goes back to his game on his phone. “Wait, really?” “Yea, why not? I’m sure you’ll look cute as a worm.” “I thought you wouldn’t say yes because you’ll find me gross.” Jisung puts his phone down and looks at you, “I’ll never think you look gross.” “But I’ll be a worm… I won’t look like myself now anymore.” Jisung ponders on it before he turns to smile at you. “No, I think you’ll still look cute.” You pout at him out of endearment before giving him a hug because you think he’s so precious. He holds your waist and returns the question back to you. “Of course… I’ll love you no matter what you become.”

taglist - @addictedtothesummernights

#nct dream #nct dream reactions #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #j0hnj4ej3n

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 21: Shameless

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: NSWF, language, smut, sex, p in v penetration, no condom, biting

* Word count: 3,350ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all!

Special mention: @deanscroissant & @lexixstewart and the couple friends who don’t have tumblr so I can’t tag them, for giving me their honest opinions on the smut because, y’all I blacked out 💀💀😂

Author's note: Oh shit y’all! We’re here! 👀 I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! Pretend in the gif that’s Stella and they’re inside and not in the forest 😅😂. Also please be gentle. This is my first attempt at writing smut and being serious with myself 😂

I’m posting this a day early because I’m nervous and ripping the bandaid off lmao. Also sinful things on a Sunday are a hilarious juxtaposition to me lmao. So feel free to comment or hit my ask box and flail with me lol. Just please be kind. 🤓💛

Stella rutched around in the waiting room chair. Her phone went off with a text from Ryan. Any update on Mr. Dutton?

She and Kayce had been here for quite a few hours. His dad was out of surgery and resting. John's current nurse just told Kayce he was allowed to go back and talk to him for a few minutes. She replied quickly. Out of surgery. Finally able to go talk to him. BRB.

She reached out for Kayce’s hand. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Kayce contemplated. “Sure.” He squeezed her hand and guided her along through the big double doors to the room he was told. When they got to the door, he paused.

Stella turned and checked him out. He hesitated to go in. “Hey,” she reached out for Kayce and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her. “Everything is gonna be okay.” He hid his face in her neck. She gently rubbed his back. She whispered to him. “We’ll go in when you’re ready.”

He let out a hard sigh. “Let’s go.”

The pair walked through the door. They peeked around to the right at John's bed. He looked like he was fast asleep. Stella directed Kayce to the chair next to the bed.

The legs of the chair made a dragging noise and that seemed to perk Kayce’s dad up. “Who the hell is trying to bother me now?” He grumbled.

The friends shared a chuckle. Kayce reached out for his dad’s hand. “It’s just me and Stella, dad.”

“Hey, John.” She announced her presence since his eyes were still partly closed.

“So when did they say I could leave?” John started messing around with his blankets.

Kayce jumped to his feet to try and stop John from getting up. Stella rounded the bed to help on the other side. Kayce instructed his dad. “Woah woah woah. You ain’t leavin’ tonight, that’s for sure.” John still must have been under the effects of whatever medicines they had him on because he stopped fighting against them easily. Kayce smiled at his dad. “We’ll discuss all of that in the morning.”

“Are you going back home?”

“I can stay if you want.”

John looked up at Stella. It shook her, seeing him vulnerable. A memory of her dad floated through. “Stella get him home. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Stella laughed through her nose. “I’ll do my best, sir.” Someone knocked on the door behind them.

“Excuse me guys. Visiting hours are over. The nurses need in here to prepare him for the night.”

Stella approached the nurse. “Can we give them like five more minutes? Then I promise I’ll get us out of your hair.”

The nurse sighed. “Okay, sure. But only five more minutes and I’ll be back.”

“Thank you!” Stella moved to Kayce who was still standing at his father’s bed. “Hey I got you five more minutes. I’ll be right outside the door, okay?” She looked at John. “And you, sir, get to feelin’ better.” There was a gruff chuckle in response. Kayce grabbed her hand before she could leave. The two locked eyes, but didn’t say anything. Stella smiled and Kayce slowly let her hand go to continue talking to his dad.

She walked out of the door and leaned against the wall to wait for Kayce. She had to figure out how to convince the youngest Dutton to leave the hospital for the night. Looking around, she remembered how much she hated being in a hospital. Memories of before she and Ryan ran away came back. All the hospital visits for not only their own injuries, but when their dad got sick. When John had looked up at her from the bed, it was like she saw her dad all over again. She shook her head to clear the thoughts.

Thinking of Ryan, she messaged him back. He’s alright. In as rare a form as ever. I’m gonna take Kayce back to my house, if I can convince him, so he can actually sleep. You need anything?

The team of nurses came around the corner, ready to settle John in for the night. Stella reached behind her and knocked on the door to let Kayce know his time was almost up for the evening. Thankfully he came to the door, smiled politely at the nurses, and grabbed Stella’s hand.

Back out in the waiting room, Kayce sat again with Stella next to him. He still hadn’t let go of her hand. Anyone could see that he was an anxious ball of nerves. Stella rubbed her thumb across his hand. “Kayce?” He looked at her. “Let’s go back to my house.” She said softly.

“Stella, I don't know if I should leave.”

She fixed her glasses with her opposite hand. “I understand your fear of leaving him here. But he’s in the safest place he can be, with the best help in the state. They have your number. They’ll call if they need anything. There’s nothing we can do right now anyway.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “He doesn’t seem like he’s gonna be too much trouble tonight. You need to rest and I guarantee you aren’t gonna do that here.”

She pleaded to him. “My house is closer than the ranch. I’ll even let you use the bed tonight.”

“Okay, but —,” Kayce started saying, but Stella butted in.

“But if they call we’ll leave at the drop of a hat. I’ll also bring you back here bright and early too.” They started to stand.

“Wait, who said you’re driving?”

“I did.” She giggled. “I also still have the keys.” Stella jangled them at him. He tried to swipe them and Stella ran through the main hospital door. He watched her as she dashed for the truck. Kayce laughed to himself because they both knew he’d let her drive.

Ryan answered as Stella clicked her seat belt into place in the truck. Nah, I’m good. You be safe and take care of Kayce.

Stella joked walking into her house. “Man, I feel like this is déjà vu.”

“Stella, it was yesterday.”

She let out a laugh. “Can’t have any fun with you, can I?”

“Now you know that’s a bold faced lie.” Kayce took off his boots and placed his hat on the table.

They both just stood there. Not really sure what step was next. Stella motioned up the stairs. “Well, I guess we should get some shut eye, right?”

“Is this the first time we’re meeting or something?” Kayce smirked.

“Shut up, you doofus.” Stella laughed as the awkwardness dissolved. “C’mon.” She climbed the stairs.

However, once in her room, the bashfulness returned for Stella. Yeah they used to sleep together wherever they fell when they were younger, but being in the same bedroom as Kayce felt different. Now that she thought about it, being in a bedroom with Kayce always felt intimidating in a way.

Stella cleared her throat and offered. “Do you want the same clothes from the last night? I’m sure I’ve got some different ones?” She preoccupied herself picking things up around her room. It wasn’t messy, but there were some articles of clothing she didn’t want him to catch sight of, especially if she could nab them up before she turned the light on. Her cheeks flushed. ‘You really gotta start making sure you utilise the hamper.’

“Nah, the ones from the yesterday will be fine.”

“Okay I’ll go grab them for you.” She stopped herself so quickly she almost tripped. “Wait, where did you leave them?”

“Uhhh…,” Kayce tried to remember where he changed before they left. “I actually think I came up here to the bathroom.”

“Oh! I’ll be right back then. I just put the bedding on like, three days ago. So I can change it if you want, but it should be fine. I only slept on it once. I’ll take the couch tonight.” Stella babbled nervously.

Waltzing out of her bedroom she wanted to hit her own forehead. ‘You're literally acting like you’ve never spoken to him a day in your life. Stop being weird.’ She fixed her glasses and found the clothes where Kayce left them. They were neatly placed on the bathroom counter. She smiled at his manners slipping through. She grabbed them and walked back to her room to give them to Kayce.

“Thank you for —,” she stopped herself when she noticed he wasn’t in the middle of the room anymore where the light from the open door reached. Without a light on in the room, an oversight on her part, she couldn’t see shit. “Kayce?” The lamp on her bedside table painted the room with light.

“Damn!” Stella squinted. “Could’ve given a girl some warning.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to blind ya.”

Stella giggled. “It’s okay.” Her eyes focused on him. It was very apparent to Stella that Kayce had something on his mind. He was holding himself back from saying it. In a delicate tone she asked, “penny for your thoughts?”

He eyed Stella up and decided to take the leap. “Would it really bother you if they talked?”

Her head cocked to the side. “Do you mean about us?” Kayce nodded.

She stayed silent for a few seconds. Apparently her reaction to the potential of being caught crossing a line in their friendship still weighed on him. She assumed his thoughts on the matter were the same. To find out they weren’t and he wanted to push that boundary, floored her. Slowly, but surely, she shook her head. “No. They’ve always talked about us, you know that. So regardless of what we do or don’t do, they’re gonna talk. Whether it’s us, or someone else; their jaws are gonna be flappin’ like old ladies on a Sunday in a salon.” The only person she knew she would catch serious flak from would be her brother or Rip. “So no. I don’t care.”

Kayce’s shoulders dropped. Whether it was relief or not, Stella didn’t know. Kayce nodded quickly. He didn’t give her time to figure it out.

He uttered a gravelly, “good,” before he stepped across the room in three long strides to her. He grabbed her face and they collided. Stella unceremoniously dropped the clothes she still had in her hand. She trailed her hands to his sides and pulled him closer while she scrunched his shirt in her hands.

“Fuck, Kayce. What’re we doing?” Stella mumbled against his mouth. Her mind felt like a dense fog had draped over it.

“Are you okay with it?” He brought his head back slightly and touched his forehead to hers. Nervous he’d gone too far.

She said breathlessly, shaking her head forcefully. “Yeah.” Kayce moved his arms to give her more space. Stella leaned into him and wound her fingers in his hair. She brought his face back to hers.

Kayce trailed his hands down her sides. Past her sore side, her hips, and wrapped them around the backs of her thighs. He squeezed and pulled her up. She let out a gasp and she circled her legs around his waist. He braced her and walked to her bed. She tossed her glasses off to the side. ‘I’ll find them in the morning.’

Gently he laid her down, her legs still around him. Looking up at him through half lidded eyes, she smiled and brushed some hair out of his face. Stella was taken back by how Kayce was looking at her with wonder. If she wasn’t already breathless she would have the wind knocked out of her. It was like he was seeing her with new eyes.

He was enamored by her at that moment. Her hair started to come loose and her lips were swollen from all the attention. The way she smiled up at him made him dive back in. “God,” he breathed.

The scratchy feeling of his facial hair gave her arms goosebumps as he chose a spot on her collarbone to pay attention to. Her eyes fell shut. Kayce moved back causing her legs to fall apart and grabbed the hem of her shirt. He gave it a pull upward. He remembered what happened the last time he gave too much exploration to the visible part of her neck, so he would go lower. Slowly the bruise on her side from the bull came into view. He placed several featherlight kisses along it. “No more cowboy poker. Ya hear me?” He examined the large doe and flowers tattoo that was partially covered in a bruise on her side that matched his buck and gave it a kiss.

“Who’s gonna stop me?” She asked playfully while removing her shirt the rest of the way.

Kayce pulled her down to be eye level. “I will.”

“Are you threatening me, Kayce Dutton?” She laughed.

“No, it's a promise.”

Her eyebrows popped up. “Oh really?”

Kayce placed a soft kiss on the left side of her chest and the scar that resided there. “Really.”

The kiss to the sensitive skin made Stella’s eyes flutter closed. He nipped at her collar bone above the scar. Stella let out a sigh. He worked his way down to the top of her pants. He tapped her stomach to gain her focus. When Stella’s heavy lidded eyes met his, there was a silent question of whether she wanted to keep going because there wouldn’t be much turning back they could do after this.

Stella nodded, but knew he needed to hear it. “Yes Kayce.” He smiled up at her and it took her breath away. He worked the belt loose and the button, and gave Stella room to shimmy her pants down far enough that he could yank them farther down. When they got far enough, she kicked them the rest of the way off, underwear included.

Kayce climbed fully on the bed on top of her. She took a moment to appreciate feeling small and safe. Reaching down she grabbed the bottom of his shirt. She pulled it and frowned. “Off please, too many clothes,” she mumbled.

He sat up straight and yanked his shirt off. When he leaned back down Stella grabbed at his torso, wanting to feel his skin beneath her fingers. He wasn’t cut like most people expected cowboys to be. He had a nice layer that made him soft. Stella dug her fingers into his hips at the top of his waistband.

He quickly stood back off the bed. Stella thought she had done something wrong, but realized it was the exact opposite. Kayce desperately made quick work of his jeans and boxer briefs. She scrambled to sit up and took off the black lace bralette that remained of her clothes. She barely had time to register that he sprang free from the hold his boxer briefs had on him before he was crawling back to her. It was apparently now or never.

Her heart pounded in her chest as he trapped her under his body weight. She could feel his hand drift down between them. He stopped at her breasts to give her nipples a quick pinch, which brought out a breathless moan of his name from Stella. His rough fingertips deftly drifted lower to her entrance. They dipped in between her folds collecting the slick that had built up and spread it up to her clit. He gave a few slow circles around it coaxing a moan from Stella. He grabbed his throbbing cock and pumped a few times. He slid himself through her slick and let himself drive home slowly until he felt the resistance of her cervix.

They both moaned, almost in relief, as he slid home. It had been a while since Stella had been with anyone. It was tight on the way in, and that made her feel all the more full. She placed her feet flat on the bed and squeezed his hips with her bent knees. When she did his hips thrusted ever so slightly and made her completely lose all sense and inhibition. She draped her arms around the back of his neck and found his lips and kissed him greedily. “Fuck, Kayce. Please move.”

He dragged his cock out slow, savoring the feeling of her, and then pumped it back in, hitting her cervix every time. Small moans puffed out of Stella’s mouth each time he connected and she bounced. He hit her back wall hard, but at the same angle every time. “Jesus fuck, oh my god.” Her eyes rolled back and shut. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Kayce gave her a quick and hard two taps, ripping her out of her head with a moan. It was almost like he knew.

He locked eyes with her, despite the closeness, and guided her. “Stay with me baby.” If Stella was able to form a cognitive thought, she would have been drooling. He slipped his arm behind her back and scooted her up farther on her bed so she could lay her head on her pillows. He sat up, bracing her legs on his thighs and placed his hands behind her knees. He continued the rhythm but picked up the pace. He bent toward her, bringing her knees with him.

She gasped at the new angle. “Oh shit.” Her hands reached up to grab any part of him she could. She tried to get to his hips to convince him to move faster. “Faster Kayce. Please.”

His hips slammed at a new pace and Stella swore she saw the universe. Small moans of, ‘oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck,’ slipped out of her as her eyes rolled back again. Kayce put her calves on his shoulders and leaned down to kiss her. Stella thought for certain she would combust at how deep she could feel him.

In this position, with every thrust that he gave her he could feel her cunt squeeze him back, almost pleading with him to stay. “Shit Stella,” he whispered against her mouth. “You like that huh?”

“Oh fuck yes.” Stella breathed out. “I’m close Kayce, keep going,” she panted, pleading, “don’t stop.” Kayce was more than happy to oblige and kicked it up a notch. He panted as his hips snapped against hers. Stella grappled to get any sort of leverage as he manhandled her while he focused on chasing that delicious high. He bit roughly at the base of her neck where it connected to her shoulder and a delighted moan released from both of them.

A few more sharp thrusts and both of them shattered. Stella saw stars erupt behind her eyes and she forced them back open to see Kayce. The look on his face was absolute bliss and she felt a swell in her chest. Both of them moaned each other's names, caught on the high tide. They grabbed at each other trying to tether themselves back in reality.

Stella dropped her legs from his shoulders feeling herself twitch every so often. Kayce remained on top of her trying to catch his breath. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the side of his head.

They laid there, still entangled in each other. Kayce laid on her chest, her hand running through his hair. She felt peace. Stella let out a big yawn.

Kayce encircled her and moved them so they were laying next to each other. Her head and hand were placed on his chest. She remained quiet. Trying to figure out just what the hell had gotten into her. Into both of them, really. There were no complaints from her, but the whiplash was real.

Stella softly tapped his chest. “We should get some sleep.” She said slowly. To Kayce it sounded like she was half asleep already. “We gotta be up early.” Kayce remained quiet. Tilting her head, she glanced up at him.

“You know you don’t have to use the couch anymore, right?” He smirked at her.

He felt her nod. “I know, but I wanna give you your space.”

Kayce pulled a face. “You’re worried about space? I was just inside you. Space went out the window then.” He laughed.

“Okay okay, fine,” she laughed along with him. “You just don’t wanna sleep alone, do you?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Stella moved her head to get comfortable again. “Can you turn out the light?”

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfic

[dejablonde]

So I had to write a personal narrative for composition class. I wrote about post-ritual depression leading to a career change, and I thought ghumblr might enjoy. It's only 763 words (after padding it out with some extra academic phrasing) but I don't want to clog your feeds too much so it's below the cut.

"Have you ever like something so much that it rewired your brain?"

            Have you ever liked something so much that it rewired your brain? I can’t pinpoint exactly when I first heard the band called “Ghost,” but it was most likely sometime in 2022. I think the first video (from whichever of the dozen algorithms we get our content from today) pushed to my feed was their performance on Jimmy Kimmel, where they played their song Call Me Little Sunshine. I was taken aback by their theatrical look and sound. I listened to a few more songs, became a casual listener, and even bought their latest album when I came across it at Josey Records. What I can pinpoint, however, is the day I turned feral: April 9, 2023, Easter Sunday.

            Being only a casual listener still, I was curious as to what was going on when I saw that Ghost was trending on Tumblr. As I scrolled through the tag, it became more and more clear that, not only had they had dropped new music, but a new music video to match, almost entirely without warning: a cover of Phil Collins’ Jesus He Knows Me. Of course, I had to listen. From the driving intro into the first verse, to the poppy chorus, to the lyrics addressing hypocrisy from the church and its leaders, it was almost like twenty-eight years of religious trauma were healed in four minutes and five seconds, as if it were that easy. I wasn’t cured, but they certainly made a dent. I listened to it on repeat and branched into the rest of their discography.  After two weeks, I finally caved and bought myself a pit ticket to their upcoming Dallas tour date.

            When the day finally came, five months later, I could barely contain myself. I felt if I could leap hard enough, I would jump right out of my skin. I had taken advantage of the fact that I had the previous day off from work and pretended that I was taking a small trip for Labor Day. This allowed me the day off for the concert. My employers already think I’m strange enough; I didn’t see any need to make it worse by asking for time off to line up for a concert by a Satanic rock band hours early on a Tuesday. Despite the 103-degree weather that day, I made it to the general admission line around noon. I chatted with my new line buddies over the next several hours about the band, how we got into them, and a little bit about our lives in general over the water that the venue security provided. For the first time in a while, I was surrounded by people like me.

            They say that concerts can be a religious experience. I’m not sure I agree, but they’re not exactly wrong. It really is overwhelming, or at least can be. Many aspects are similar, if not the same. Between the community and camaraderie with your fellow “congregants” and the feeling of the music all the way down to your bones, there’s certainly something that happens internally. This concert (or ritual, as Ghost fans lovingly call them) was no exception. After all, when you’re a stone’s throw away from your obsession, bathed in light and confetti, you can’t help but feel a little changed.

            Post-concert depression is a very real and powerful force. It’s even stronger when you come back to work after finally feeling happy and rested only to be met with snideness not even fifteen minutes into the day. I was already dealing with years of declining morale. I wanted to be happy again, like I was the night before. I started looking at job postings immediately. I nearly got one in the same field but interviewed poorly. Eventually, I decided to make up for lost time and try to make a move into what my high-school-aged-self wanted. Or at least something close. Unfortunately, even though apprenticeship-type situations are common in the music industry, it’s very hard to break in without any kind of provable experience. I looked into some recording technology schools but didn’t really feel the need to go into debt on a loan for them. I was about to lose hope, but then I had a lightbulb moment and found that Dallas College has a program for Recording Technology. My application and registration were late in the game, but I was able to squeeze in before the start of this semester. Now, I’m finally doing something I want to do, and it’s all thanks to a funky little Swede in black and white makeup.

#the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus i #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #tobias forge #toblerone fudge #tender father #post-concert depression #DejaBlonde #my writing

[iboatedhere]

thank you @inexplicablymine @lemonlyman-dotcom @cha-melodius and @kiwiana-writes (thank you to @pragmatic-optimist for helping me pick this section--like I said to her, I like this fic as a whole, but when in a 7 sentence Sunday or WIP Wednesday context I STRUGGLE)

--

The good thing about getting a late start is that Alex misses the rush hour traffic which means he gets to the office in twenty minutes instead of the usual thirty five.

The bad thing is that everyone is already hard at work at their desk when he gets there, making it impossible for him to sneak in. 

He gives it a try, though, pretending that he doesn’t notice all the heads turning his way as he casually walks to his desk, like he’s always been here and he’s just coming back from a bathroom break.

The second he sits down Zahra’s office door opens and Alex closes his eyes, bracing for what’s about to happen.

“Alex Claremont-Diaz, get your ass in here right now.”

He takes a deep breath to get himself together then pops to his feet. “Hey, Zahra,” he says brightly. “What’s up?”

She glares at him as she juts over her shoulder at her office and Alex keeps the fake smile on his face as he slips past her.

“I don’t know if you know this,” she says as she shuts the door. “But the day starts at eight thirty around here.” She rounds her desk and sits down, folding her hands together. “You come in, pick up your assignments–.”

“I picked mine up last night,” Alex interrupts. “Ten thirty at the embassy with the Prince. I think it went well.”

Zahra narrows her eyes. “You were at the embassy this morning?”

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “Where else would I have been? Honestly, the article is already half written.”

“Is that right?” She asks and Alex nods. “So the prince answered all your questions?”

“Yup.”

“And what did you think of him?”

Alex blows out a breath and drops down into one of the chairs opposite Zahra’s desk, crossing one leg over the other. “He was very….polite. You know, royal.” He snaps his fingers. “There was an air of royalty to him.”

“Was there?”

“Totally. Can’t imagine him being anything other than fourth in line to the crown.”

Zahra hums and picks up the newspaper on her desk, studying the front page. “And what did you think of his haircut?”

“His haircut.”

She looks at him over the top of the paper. “Yes. It’s pretty radical for a sitting member of the royal family to shave their entire head.”

“Right, yeah, totally, of course.” Alex clears his throat and drops his foot to the floor before crossing his opposite leg. “I actually asked him about that. He said it was an….homage to the royal navy who….had to shave their heads before service which you know, is fitting since the anniversary of D-Day is right around the corner.”

“He said all that?”

“Yup.”

“That’s really interesting, Alex. A-Plus reporting.”

“Thank you.”

She hums. “Yeah, you should be really proud of yourself, especially since His Royal Highness fell violently ill late last night and canceled all of his appearances today.”

She turns the paper around and Alex reads the headline– Royal, Royally Ill, and nods. 

“He canceled all of his appearances?”

“That’s right, Alex.”

“Then who the hell did I interview?”

Zahra rolls her eyes and tosses the paper at him. “Alex—.”

“I can explain,” he says as he catches the paper. “I was out late–.”

“I do not care.”

“And there was this guy—.”

“I super don’t care.”

“And I had to bring him home—.”

“Alex, truly, I’m really happy that you are comfortable in your sexuality but I don’t need to know—.”

“It wasn’t like that! He just–.” Alex cuts himself off as he sees the photo of the prince just above the fold. “This is a current photo of the prince?”

“My god, Alex, how are you this far out of the loop?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, “I just….” He trails off as he stares down at the photo. Even in black and white and with a constipated smile on his face, Alex knows that the man staring back at him is the same one that he left asleep in his bed. “I can make this up to you.”

Zahra sits back, crossing her arms. “I would love to hear this.”

“I can get you an exclusive interview with the prince. The Private And Secret Longings Of A Prince, he says, miming the layout of the headline in the air. “His innermost thoughts and desires. His dreams, his nightmares….what he really thinks of hot button issues. That’s way more interesting than some boring Q&A where he’d give the same pre-screened responses to everything.” 

“How exactly are you going to swing that? Are you going to sneak into the embassy and hold his hair back as he pukes into the royal toilet?”

“A good journalist never reveals their sources.”

“And what good journalist did you hear that from?”

“June.”

“Ah.”

“C’mon, Zahra,” Alex begs, “I can do this. Give me a chance. If I don’t come through, you can fire me, blacklist me, ship me off to work in Alaska or Antarctica, somewhere where it’s cold all the time and I’ll be miserable forever.”

“I like that.”

“And you’ll love my interview. Please, Zahra, let me do this.”

“Don’t beg,” she tells him, “it’s unbecoming.”

He pouts and she rolls her eyes. 

“Listen, I don’t care what you do, just get out of my office. If you don’t come back with that article, don’t bother coming back at all.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Alex says as he backs out of her office.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” she tells him, “and neither have you. Close my door on your way out.”

Alex does as he’s told then fires off a “MEET ME AT MY PLACE—EMERGENCY!!!!!!” text to June as he crosses the room. 

“Did you get fired?” Hunter, his deskmate asks and Alex flips him off without saying a word on his way out the door.

#rwrb #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince Fic #wip wednesday #roman holiday au

[just-wrting]

hiii, i just read ‘family time’ (absolutely loved it btw!!) and i was wondering if you’d want to write a follow up where aaron confronts the neighbour for example? :)

Aaah!!!!!!! Yes! It’s short but I hope it’s okay! I’m more of a fan of reader inserts being in second person so it ended up like this. If anyone wants it to be masc pronouns just let me know and I’ll alter it.

A bit of a TW: the neighbor is creepy towards a minor! Only mentioned not written as a full scene!

Despite it being Sunday morning, you make your way to the mailbox. With the scorching heat of yesterday, you chose to not get the mail. Since the kids are still asleep, it’s the perfect time. You slip on a pair of sandals and gently push open the front door.

As you’re basking in the morning air, you hear the neighbors arguing about who’s going to answer the door. You don’t know who makes a house call this early, but your curiosity gets the better of you, and you creep over to the fence to listen in. Another sharp knock at their door and it creaks open.

“What do you want?” the husband snaps at the mystery person. “Don’t you know it’s rude to knock on someone’s door at the crack of dawn? You better be having an emergency.”

Peering through the tiny crack in the fence, you catch a glimpse of one of Aaron’s casual shirts. At this point, you can’t help but stay.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to ogle at women?” you husband counters. His voice is icy and it sends shivers down your spine. “Or do you not have basic decency?”

You can hear the older man scoff. “Maybe your wife should have some decency. If a woman doesn’t want to be looked at, she shouldn’t wear that sort of thing.”

You already know the sort of look Aaron is making now. His eyebrows will be furrowed and his mouth set in a thin line due to his jaw being clenched. The neighbor is lucky that Aaron does his best to stay away from violence, even when provoked.

“What does it matter what my wife wears in her backyard? If you can’t keep your eyes to yourself I should tell your wife.” Despite the even tone, anger seeps into his voice.

“My wife isn’t going to do shit about what I do!”

The door creaks as it tries to slam shut, but you see Aaron shift. He’s stuck his foot in the doorway.

“Mr. Williams, as you know, I’m a government agent. I know that it’s not just my wife you’ve been looking at, but Tim’s wife too. I may not get violent with you, but I can’t say for certain what Tim will do.”

You hear Williams snicker. “That’s why I’m not scared of you. That dumbass Tim will never know I look at his woman.”

“I also happen to know you watch his daughter too. You do know that she’s only a freshman in high school, right? Not college.”

You imagine the color draining from his face. It’s satisfying.

“You’re just guessing!” he shrieks. “If you tell anyone this stupid lie, I’ll sue you for defamation!”

Aaron has the upper hand, and you smirk. This bastard will finally reap what he’s sown.

“Actually, I have video and audio evidence of you harassing my wife and the Harris women. It would be a shame if I sent it to Tim.”

“Alright, alright! What is you want? An apology?” You see his hands get thrown in the air. “Fine. I’m sorry Aaron for looking at your wife when she’s off limits.”

You hear a thud and see Aaron’s hand gripping the doorway. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve never heard before. It sends ice through your veins.

“What I want doesn’t matter in this scenario. How dare you assume that by giving me an apology I will make this go away.”

“Well then,” he sputters, “what do I need to do to make this go away?”

“There is no longer anything you can do. I will be emailing the footage to Tim and anyone else in the community I see fit.”

With that, you see Aaron start to head down the stairs. You rush away from the fence and do your best to pretend like you hadn’t been listening in on him. Unfortunately, he catches you at the mailbox.

“You didn’t get the mail yesterday, darling?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“No, it was just too hot. What brings you outside at this hour?”

He makes a very unpleasant face and sighs. “Some unsavory business, dear. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You play innocent and bat your eyelashes at him. “You’re okay though? You’re not hurt in anyway?”

His hand guides you into the house, and you resist the urge to tell him that you’re very happy about what he did. You also do your best to smother the thought of how hot you find him when he gets all protective.

“I’ll make breakfast while you wake the kids.”

You nod and place the mail on the entryway table. “That sounds like a plan. Gives you some time to plan.”

With a soft smile, he leans close to again. You anticipate another kiss, but instead feel his breath on your ear.

“As much as I love you, you’ve gotten terrible at hiding things from me. You could’ve gotten closer.”

Aaron gives your hip a squeeze, before giving you a proper kiss. You gently shove him away, shooing him off. Thankfully, he just chuckles before heading to the kitchen.

“So you also know I think you’re hot when you get protective?” you call after him. “Am I that easy to read?”

His laugh gets louder. “I don’t need to be reading your body language to know that. You’re prone to finding me attractive when I do a lot of things.”

You head upstairs, pouting. “He’s lucky I love him. And that he’s the best man ever.”

—-

The next day, there’s a verbal fight next door. At least, that what the cat lady across the street tells you. Aaron had swept you and the kids away to BAU.

Apparently, the Harris family had called the cops and gotten Mr. Williams arrested on peeping Tom laws against his wife and daughter. His wife never said anything, and let him be taken out. While Tim never said who tipped him off, you caught him and Aaron talking.

Shortly after, the Williams’ house was empty.

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner #criminal minds aaron hotch

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 217: Bath, part 2—Cursed Lover: Introduction to the Psychology of Romantic Love 101

Cursed lovey-dovey JJK Sunday! 

I know this chapter in specific has had polarizing reactions but I personally loved how unserious it is and I LOVE YOROZU! crazy bitch I love her

There are no coincidences in this world, what is there is hitsuzen 必然. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been re-visiting the Psychology of Romantic Love. So when this chapter dropped with its implications of one-sided love, I couldn’t not write about it.

So just a heads up, in the spirit of chasing after my own love-induced delusions, I went on the usual massive tangent and wrote about LOVE under the cut. 

Thing is... and this is just a theory but... love is the most twisted curse of them all.

愛よ。

So anyways... 

And yes... this is also a Depth Psychology lecture.

That said...

Welcome to Introduction to the Psychology of Romantic Love 101.

Drunk in love

First, I’m not going to do an in-depth exploration of the Psychology of Romantic love here because I am saving that for a different essay that I am working on. So what you’ll find is more of a brief introduction to this complex subject.

Second, DESPITE the impression you might get from reading this, I am actually a romantic who willingly and perhaps rather foolishly loves/hates to get drunk in love. 

Third, music is perhaps one of the best ways to convey something as indescribable such as love. So you’ll find I drop specific lyrics and song titles for reference. Feel free to listen to, skip or ignore. 

That said, I’ll also admit that since I started re-visiting the Psychology of Romantic Love, I’ve literally been looking for the right opportunity to drop these two song titles: Lovefool by The Cardigans, and Drunk in Love by Béyonce and her babydaddy, Jay-Z.

And while Lovefool is more appropriate for a one-sided obsession (I think we’ve long since left “crush” territory) such as Yorozu’s...

So I cry and I pray and I beg

Love me love me Say that you love me Fool me fool me Go on and fool me Love me love me Pretend that you love me Leave me leave me

The idea of being drunk in love also applies quite well. In the Psychology of Romantic Love, this is known as “drinking the love potion” by Depth Psychologists. 

Boy, I'm drinking, get my brain right

In drinking the love potion, the lover (aka the one doing the loving) is privy to experiencing the magic realms of the heart--the beauty of love itself. This is what is described as the usual symptoms of being in love, like butterflies in your chest or stomach and having an overall dreamy temperament.

The problem with drinking the love potion often lies in the delusions that are inherent to being drunk in love. At their best, these delusions are nothing more than an overall feeling of pleasantness, sort of like seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. But at their worse, these delusions can alter how the lover perceives reality itself.

But don’t take my word for it, when it comes to describing what it’s like to observe someone who is drunk in love from drinking the love potion, Fuel said it best in their song Shimmer: 

She dreams a champagne dream Strawberry surprise Pink linen on white paper Lavender and cream Fields of butterflies Reality escapes her

What I love most about Yorozu being completely out of touch with reality is that her version of “lavender and cream” and “fields of butterflies” is more akin to destroying 3 villages and writing haiku about the decapitated head of the most handsome man in each of those villages.

crazy bitch I love her

Tainted love

Also, can we stop and appreciate how comical this whole page is?

Gege, of course, uses the Sakura trees in full bloom in the panel above (cut off) as well as Sakura blossoms raining down on Yorozu and Sukuna--a trope commonly used to emphasize the ephemeral nature of beauty that can also evoke romantic undertones.

If you’ve ever had the privilege of visiting Japan during Hanami season and gotten to see Sakura blossoms falling, its undeniable how poetic and beautiful such a mundane spectacle is.

But, just as I am exploring the darker side of love in this ramble, you can be sure there is shadow side to the Sakura trees. 

What if there was a more sinister reason as to why the cherry blossoms are pink?

Just the way Gege is exploring corrupted and twisted love through Yorozu, In Tokyo Babylon, CLAMP uses cherry blossoms as a corrupted symbol of love--tainted love that corrupts (cue Marilyn Manson’s version of Tainted Love).

Sometimes I feel I've got to run away I've got to get away From the pain you drive into the heart of me

Once I ran to you (I ran) Now I run from you This tainted love you've given

That's what I meant when I shared how I would have liked to see what it means for the King of Curses, Sukuna, to “love” or have a one-sided crush. Basically I headcanon Sukuna’s love language is inflicting pain.

But Sukuna isn’t necessarily running from Yorozu because he’s not digging the pain she dishes with her tainted love but more because... well... she’s so delusional she annoys him. I can see why Kenny asked Sukuna why he’d go see her.

But since Yorozu is the one dishing pain with her tainted love, I loved that her love language is basically to die in the name of the Beloved--whether she’s the one who dies or its Sukuna.

In German, liebstod is a word for a kind of love that is so unreal and so Divine, that it can only be achieved in death.

“I want you to be the one to kill me...

I want you to be the one who hurts me...

... as the ultimate expression of my love for you.”

crazy bitch I love her

To quote Jungian Analyst, Jim Hollis, “to love the Other, with all the Other’s presumed power to hurt us, requires a substantial amplitude of soul, an enlargement of one’s sense of self”.

Not me using a quote from Dr. Hollis to write about JJK because he talks about the sense of self.

After all, is there a greater form of showing one’s devotion for the Beloved than by baring our bleeding heart and offering it on a silver platter to say “I trust you”? that or maybe I’m just twisted af too. like... is that why I'm still single? bahaha

Absolute love corrupts absolutely.

The Demon Lover

There’s also something to be said about how Yorozu’s tainted love is also a reflection of her psychoemotional development as an individual--which is an interesting thing to say given her vessel is a teenager with a history of childhood neglect and abandonment.

Now, part of what is so comical about Yorozu is that everything from her reactions, her behavior, and her obsession with Sukuna are, quite literally, so infantile.

That’s because Yorozu’s love appears to be stuck in a level of ego development that objectifies the “object of her affection”, Sukuna, and sees it as something to be claimed and owned. She sees it as her duty to the Beloved to subdue him with her power.

Ironically, as Jung himself used to say, “where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.”

Jungian Analyst, John Haule further tells us that “the goal of love appears to be nothing less than a loss of ego.”

He adds that the Demon Lover archetype is often constellated in romantic relationships when the lover lacks the psychoemotional maturity to see the delusions caused by the love potion as a projection of one’s shadow onto the Beloved.

Instead, we are invited to consider that this kind of love is more like an addiction.

Or in the words of Børns’ Electric Love...

Drown me (drown me), you make my heart beat like the rain Surround me (oh), hold me deep beneath your waves

Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle I can't let you go now that I got it And all I need is to be struck By your electric love

Which, thematically, is so perfect for a story like Jujutsu Kaisen where selfishly prioritizing satisfying the hedonistic and fleeting desires of the ego sense of self is what drives the strongest sorcerers.

crazy bitch I LOVE HER BECAUSE SHE’S SO RELATABLE AF!

Thank you if you’ve made it this far. 

I hope you have a cursed lovey-dovey JJK-Sunday!

#jjk ch 217 #god I love jujutsu kaisen #v gives bad music recs

[skelly-words]

Help me with the title-

Sorry sorry sorry, ik 99% of my followers are here for my smut and i have a few asks to do, but... i'm not in the mood to write porn, so have my favorite OC work ever that's deeply personal and revealing instead.

wc-4.6k

I didn’t know why my Mom picked for us to move to the country when I was little, but there wasn’t much I could do to prevent it. It wasn’t farm country or ranch country, just the red dirt of the California desert. The house we lived in simmered on the hot rock. Then, when fall started, the Santa Ana winds would kick up dust and wildfires all over the place. My mom and I conceded to the cacti, coyotes, and wildfires for the low rent (only comparatively when living in California). I fell for the land as quickly as I adjusted to wearing shoes. The backyard could’ve been as small as my mom’s garden or as large as the sparse woods that stretched up and down the road for miles. The neighbors were few and far between, and they fenced off anything they wanted to keep to themselves. It was expansive, so I felt free.

We moved away from the suffocation of the big city, almost running from the snow and smog that the clogged highways always seemed to be blanketed in. I had to leave school halfway through the second grade and the cross-country trek was inconvenient, but anything was an improvement from Chicago. Mom missed the city but substituted with LA, making the three-hour drive with a few friends whenever they could get time off work or had a weekend free. She never tended to me much, not as a second-grader, and not when I got older either. I’d been able to read since before I could remember and my mom figured I could take care of myself if I could sound out the instructions on the back of a frozen pizza box or the fire extinguisher. 

Mom would kiss my forehead before she left and mumble something like, “Don’t let anybody in while I’m gone.” She’d always be back to get ready for work on Monday, even if that meant coming home at two in the morning. I don’t know how she expected me to know the difference between her opening the front door in the middle of the night and a murderer doing the same. I missed having her kiss me goodnight too, but I mostly stayed up to listen for her footsteps, making sure it was the sound of her heels that echoed through the quiet house.

Her plans always varied, sometimes coming home late on Saturday or rolling in as I made absurdly chocolatey milk to put in my cereal while watching Sunday morning cartoons. She’d sleep whatever was leftover of the weekend, making up for both of us.

On other weekends, we’d run errands together. I liked to loiter around the perfume counter at Macy’s while she tried on pants. Errands weren’t always clothes shopping, it was also groceries, gas, car wash, toiletries, cleaning products, a book for me from the library, and a new screen for the kitchen window. When I wasn’t in school, this was the only time I would come into town. I spent most of my time at home in the backyard or reading if the weather was particularly bad. The local library was still twelve miles away, but they also sold lightly damaged or old books for a quarter. Mom let me pick up new reading material whenever I ran out; something Nancy Drew, Encyclopedia Brown (if I could find any), and an almanac with lots of illustrations about whatever looked the most interesting. I cut myself off at three books so I could leave something good for the next kid.

Everybody read in the summer. Schools, libraries, parents, youth clubs, and ice cream parlors all offered incentives to get kids to read over the break. The library bookstore would be picked clean of anything worth reading and I’d spend more time outside that week.

Directly behind my house were live oak trees, gopher snakes, native foliage that mom called weeds, and a creek. The creek was sunken into a valley and spanned a little over five feet in width. Down in the gully, on my side of the stream, a headstone pretended it wasn’t out of place. It was tilted casually against a tree, but anyone could tell it didn’t fit in. There wasn’t even a name on it. For a few years, I went down to visit and place dandelions that popped up in my mom’s garden at the base of the cross. I suspected the family before us had planted a dead cat or dog there. The grave wasn’t new, but it wasn’t that old either. The ground dipped a little and that’s how I knew something was really under there. Leaves would collect in the basin, and I’d try to push them out without getting thorns in my fingers. In the winter, I’d fill them back in like they’d keep the guest warm. The awkward, blocky headstone and hastily dug ditch felt too innocuous for a final resting place, so I treated the grave as any gracious host would.

I cleaned the headstone too, to add to the ritual. It felt nice to care for the marble with a bit of dish soap and water after the rain flooded the creek. It widened a little each year whenever the tropical storms finally blew us a little rain at the beginning of fall. The warm equator water was always a little more than the parched soil could handle, and the banks would inch out. 

My mom and I had neighbors behind us. The waterway is what drew the separation between the two properties. I spent most of my free time at that junction, especially when the four walls started to feel more like a solar oven than home. Cool air tended to fill up around the water; most of which trickled down from the mountains as snow melted in spring. Wiry oak trees popped up around the swampy banks, building little dams and bridges with fallen twigs. The summer before middle school, I met the neighbors’ daughter. By then, I didn’t care about the headstone. Things died, probably someone’s pet a decade ago.

But the neighbors’ daughter was my first friend. She was a year younger than me, so I got to feel like I knew a lot more than she did. I’d show her how to cross the creek without falling in and she’d just stare like I was Jesus; walking on water. She was sweet and simple-minded, and I liked having the company and someone to share the woods with. Since that summer was my first time meeting her, I figured she didn’t get out much. Her skittish temperament reminded me of the squirrels that watched us play from between tree branches. It made me want to hold her close and push her out of the nest at the same time. We quickly became close. It happens that way when there’s nobody else your age within a twelve-mile radius.

Around mid-June, she started taking off her shoes to wade into the creek with me and we talked while watching the minnows navigate around our legs. She thought I knew everything, so I acted like I did. She asked me once about dying, so I offered to show her the headstone. It wasn’t hidden, but the dusty marble blended better into nature when I didn’t bother to clean it up.

“Who did you bury here?” She asked.

“Dad,” I answered her without thinking. “Uh, some of his ashes anyway.” That was the truth. But my dad practiced family law and lived back in Chicago. Mom prayed every night that he would become part of that city’s startling crime statistics. I figured he was just as well off buried in the backyard.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Thank you.” This was my first time having a family member die. I didn’t know what to do, so I let my eyes water until it looked like I was crying. She helped me pick sourgrass and buckwheat flowers to decorate the grave. Whenever my dad did die, I knew I’d need her then too.

-

The house was way outside of town. It was fifteen minutes to the nearest gas station, which is what got her in trouble the most. As far as I could tell, that was the only reason to resent the distance. I met the neighbors’ daughter in the valley almost every day of summer. We’d walk down the creek until our feet were sweaty, then carry our shoes and shuffle back against the weak current. The path got tired and overbeaten, but it didn’t matter when every day felt fresh.

On the longest day of the year, we stayed out later than usual. The sun had set and it was nearing nine. The sky still had a bit of light in it, from the stars, moon, and summertime sun that never seemed to fade completely. Chicago skies weren’t cut out for stargazing. Holes would have to be punched through the layers of dense air and light pollution before anything besides the largest suns was visible. I could see the smallest points of light from here, stars that were lifetimes away or beginning to dim and burn out. They were beautiful.

July nights were so hot I couldn’t sleep with the sheets on. Even outside, when we were lying on the prickly leaves, I could feel the residual warmth radiating off the ground. The mosquitos drove us insane, but she stayed out to watch me point out imaginary constellations. I knew Orion and the Big Dipper, but after that, they were just lights to me. 

“I’m scared to walk home alone,” she said. I think she only admitted that because I couldn’t see her face. By then, I could tell when she was scared, which was almost always, but she didn’t want to seem like a crybaby. I’d see her brow furrow whenever I’d hand her the knife to gut a fish or push her to climb the tallest tree in the woods with me, and that meant she was afraid. If I had felt meaner, I might’ve made her stumble home in the dark by herself. But it was warm and I was so fond of July that the extra walk felt worth it. 

We tripped out of the gully, and I kept her hand safe in mine until we got on flat ground. The back porch light was left on for her. I could tell that they were the cozy type. My feelings were almost hurt by the homemade wind chimes that hung lackadaisically along with the solar-powered fairy lights. She toed her sneakers onto the shoe rack and waved goodbye to me from the sunflower doormat. I brushed her off with a nod as I disappeared into the woods to go back home. 

-

I could recognize the smell of a dead animal by now. Every time a bloated fish washed downstream or a rabbit carcass was left shredded by coyotes, the smell of death became a little more familiar. It was sweet and acidic like rotten fruit but flat and earthy like fresh mud. Dead skunk was worse because the signature odor accompanied the putrification. I went down to the creek earlier than usual. The sunrise woke me up early, and the morning mist had already cooked off of the water. I followed the smell downstream to a freshly dead skunk, partially covered by dried foxtails. I was fascinated by the carcass; both the specimen itself and the process of decomposition. The maggots were eating at it now, stirring up the fur and guts. From a distance, the shifting skin made the animal look like it was still alive, twitching and squirming on the ground. 

The smell was bad, almost as hard to breathe around as it was to look at. I picked up a sturdy stick from the ground and crouched to level with the animal. My eyes watered from the smell, so I lifted my t-shirt neckline over the bridge of my nose.

“How can you do that?” She was referring to how I gingerly nudged the bloated belly with a forked stick. She took a step back when the skunk’s writhing face rolled in her direction.

“It’s the circle of life. The skunk dies and serves as food for fly larvae and scavengers.”

“But why do you have to poke at it?” She stepped back further as I kept nudging the skunk further along.

“This’ll be us one day.” I figured flies couldn’t lay eggs on my body if I was buried, but some larvae or another would be breaking me back to carbon.

“Is it because of your dad?”

“What?”

“Are you like this because your dad died?” she asked. I had forgotten this small fact and realized she wasn’t insinuating my father skipped out on the family because of me. I didn’t know if that was any better and considered if my feelings should still be hurt.

“Yeah, it made me all spooky.”

“No.” She shook her head, more so at the way I pushed the skunk again. “I meant about how you’re so obsessed with death.”

“So, what? It’s interesting and spooky.” I vaguely reminded myself that I didn’t have any reason to be defending myself, but I had a point to finish. “What do you remember from before you were born?” I had to stop shoving the skunk because she would’ve ended up in the water with another step back.

She thought about it for a while until she knew the answer and then longer so she could find a way to avoid saying it. She saw my point without me having to say it.

“And that’s exactly what it’ll be like after we die,” I finished. “The decomposition is just getting rid of what’s left behind. This is just some meat that the maggots are munching on.” I shoved the skunk a little more and she didn’t back away. This was the part where she got my point and picked up a stick to poke at it too. I lifted a long, slender switch and handed it to her.

“If you’re sure.” She said it in a sing-songy way that let me know I was wrong. At least she took the stick from me and nudged the skunk back. “But my parents had me baptized, so I’ll go to heaven when I die.”

I didn’t really care if she thought she was going to heaven or not as we shoved the skunk onto an anthill. It left a little snail trail in some parts of the ground and the smell got a lot worse, but the ants would help uncover the skeleton quicker.

“Skunks don’t do baptism,” I said.

“So it’s just meat and maggots.” She still grimaced at the grossness as she said this, not totally convinced. Some of the ants had already started to crawl around to survey the skunk.

“And when it’s just bones, we’ll have something interesting to do.”

-

It was two weeks until summer ended, not in the fall equinox sense, but school would be starting. Pencils and notebooks had begun populating malls and outlets midway through break, but the need to complete summer felt more frantic. For me, it was the last year before a milestone. My coming of age, which if I didn’t fulfill, would make me subject to be rumored as a late bloomer. The skunk skeleton had been worth looking forward to, but something picked it up after a couple of nights. I didn’t think anything other than bugs would go for something that rotten, but the skunk was gone.

“I think I saw a dead rat a quarter mile down, yesterday.” I was consoling myself while the neighbors’ daughter precariously crossed over to my side of the creek.

“It’s a good thing the skunk’s gone.” I shot her a glare, so she corrected. “I don’t think the bones would’ve been clean by the rainy season.” She spat in the water to finish her point and made a final leap to solid ground.

“I wonder if we went to the same elementary together this whole time?” I sat in the dirt to dig through my backpack and she followed me to do the same. We were fishing today, even though there was never anything to catch. Most of the fun was in make-believing that a goblin shark could snag our line at any moment. Our backpacks matched, a coincidence, and we packed sandwiches and cold lemonade so we could stay out all day. 

“I go to West Lake,” she said. 

“Nah I went to South Oak, but you should come to Washington Middle next year with me.” I kept my tackle in a small travel jewelry box. It was leather-wrapped and about the size of my palm with a few pillowy slots for rings and small compartments to keep the other pieces from tangling together. I kept hooks and lures where the rings were meant to go and filled the compartments with an assortment of vibrantly colored trout bait. It fit perfectly in my back pocket with my fishing rod in the other.

She got her fishing rod out too. We’d made them by tying a line around the middle of a stick. A five-minute walk upstream took us to our favorite lagoon. The waterway widened and deepened to be the only place with decent-sized fish. A tree was tipped over for us, knocked into the mud. We sat on the bridge, letting the fishing line run downstream through our middle fingers; current pulling our flashy lures until it ran out. The line stayed taught from the pull of the current and I could catch flashes of the lure as it spun beneath the surface. The water made my mind go limp. I stared ahead with my hands in my lap. I’d lost one of my makeshift fishing rods that way. It caught on something and I let it pull from between my fingers.

“Do you really want me to come to middle school with you?” she asked. It was a while since we talked, but it was easy to resume our conversation.

“I think it would be fun. And we’re in different grades, so it’s not like we’ll get sick of each other.” I wound my line back up around the stick and let it go again. We fished together almost every day and had only caught two fish all summer, one each. She’d caught the first fish, a little trout, and I’d gutted it as a messy experiment. By the time I’d caught one, she was able to wash all the innards out easily with a cleaner version of my demonstration. 

“We could eat lunch together, and carpool.” She said it wistfully like it was a far-off dream.

-

I was waiting for the neighbor girl to look for live bait with me, but it had started to rain. The end of summer turned into a torrent of tropical storms that wandered up the coast from warmer climates. She didn’t like the rain, so we scrambled down the embankment each time it let up. The frequent downpours gave us the perfect conditions for catching bugs as they all collected under leaves and rocks. It was Sunday though, and sometimes her parents dragged her to church. I was digging up the foliage to find grubs until I noticed that it was sprinkling again. If she wasn’t in church already, she definitely wasn’t coming down now.

She hated to get her hair wet. Her mom pressed it on Sunday mornings and she liked to keep it smooth for as long as possible. I couldn’t empathize with the experience, but I knew the only glance I would get from her would be through a kitchen window. I crossed the stones to the left side of the creek. The water was higher than usual from the rain, and algae slipped over the surface of the rocks we were meant to cross on.

I didn’t mind the weather. The earthworms would reveal themselves and I’d collect them to use as bait or toss on my mom’s compost pile. I left my shoes and socks in the soggy leaves and climbed on my hands and feet up the slippery incline to her house. I’d hardly ever been up to her side of the creek before. There wasn’t really any point to it when we spent most of the time wandering as far from home as possible. 

Some of the lights in her house were on. The French doors grinned at me, but I didn’t see anybody inside. I walked around to the front door– listening for life and thinking about knocking– and it was apparent nobody was home.

The butt of my pants got dirty when I slid back down to my shoes. I’d see her tomorrow if the rain ever stopped, but not until school was out at 3:30. When I picked up my shoes to put them back on, I saw some beetles and pill bugs hiding beneath my soles. It seemed right to leave them be, so I sat in the mud and let my feet hang into the filling stream.

The bank was squishy beneath me, softened and sliding. Across from me, a slab of mud sloughed off the right bank. The chunk broke into smaller parts as it fell away. I thought his hair was roots, brown and wispy with soil clinging to the ends. The wild grasses were what held the hillside together when it got wet, but sometimes the grass sprouts can’t do much to keep the soaked ground together. The brittle ends of the man’s hair stuck straight out from the bank, too sharp of an angle and wiry of a texture. The roots looked wrong, so I stared and squinted through the drizzle until I caught a glimpse of his messed-up face. It was a man because I’d never seen a woman that looked so ugly. From my spot, I could watch the water uncover him. He seemed to be swaddled in transparent plastic, wrapped with the smothering care I gave my dolls as a toddler. The top half of his face protruded from the open end. More of the earth melted into the creek as the bank continued to erode. The creek washed further out until the headstone was threatened too. I could see his face through the dirty plastic. Who knows how long he’d been buried there, but I’d guess that the plastic was the only thing keeping him together. The top half of the corpse leaned out into the water like a gigantic pupae. He was a slurry inside, waiting for form and metamorphosis. He wriggled free of the ground, aided by the current, and sloshed into the rushing water.

“Some ashes.” A low whistle passed between my teeth. The banks overflowed from the ripples, staining my pants more. The body bumped back and forth against slimy rocks as it shoved off to much busier things. I could tell school would be easy tomorrow, and then I’d rush down into the gully to tell the neighbors’ daughter what I saw. It was getting dark and raining harder and harder. Mom was probably going to have dinner ready and I needed to shower. I left my shoes behind for the beetles and crossed the creek back home. 

-

I didn’t think middle school would amount to much. By the end of the day, I was tired from icebreakers and it took Mom twenty minutes to pick me up. Considering we lived fifteen minutes away and she drove like the cops were chasing her, it had taken her a while to realize she had a daughter to pick up from school. It was a quiet drive. The house was hushed by that same awful silence. The kind where it wasn’t quiet at all, but all her talking turned into a high ringing in my ears. I let her keep circling around and around whatever she really wanted to say, hoping she’d get there eventually. She kept repeating a beat on the steering wheel, and when we got settled at home, sitting side-by-side on the couch, she was playing the same pattern on a throw pillow.

“The neighbors’ little girl, Cam, passed away.” 

Mom must’ve been waiting all day to say that to me with the same nervous excitement she had about conflict overseas; any news was light if it didn’t involve her. Now, I was more curious about why she hadn’t said anything sooner, maybe it was a special treat for making it through the front door or designated mother-daughter-gossip time on the couch. Mom didn’t know I had been friends with Cam. That was the first time I’d heard her name.

“In the creek?” I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be stuck indoors next summer due to an unfortunate drowning accident. The feeling was right for me to cry, but I hadn’t even known her name.

“What creek- Oh, no. I don’t know what happened to her. Car accident I think, Californians don’t know how to drive in this rain.” Mom stopped the nervousness and walked into the kitchen and I was left on the couch, scolding myself for not gossiping right. We were done conversing because she didn’t find middle school interesting and I didn’t have the appropriate reaction to the local tragedy. It was probably better that she got distracted by the pantry instead of talking to me because I might’ve let it slip that I knew the girl.

-

Mom didn’t cook on Monday nights. She’d have a glass of wine and fall asleep while watching the news or Grey’s Anatomy. I’d done it with her once and didn’t understand the appeal. Wine is bitter and the heavy makeup on the Anchorwoman’s face made her look too beautiful and perfect. I made mac n’ cheese for myself and switched to the Cartoon Network after Mom fell asleep. My bedtime was nine PM. It said so on the organizational whiteboard that kept track of my chores and allowance. But I strongly believed that rules were only as strong as their enforcers. I turned the volume on the TV low and I tucked myself into my mom’s side.

At some point I drifted off with my fork still in-hand.

I felt guilty later. Mom woke up and put me to bed. It was a school night, but I couldn’t sleep. While counting the dim glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I went completely still and began to count the beats. My heartbeat would keep me up at night sometimes. If I was feeling anxious and my heart was wailing against my ribs, the sound was enough to stave of sleep. The rhythm would beat in my ears, my chest, beneath my collarbone, my fingertips, behind my eyes, and sometimes in my throat if my tongue was dry. So my heartbeat was all I heard as I played a bad rendition of that afternoon over and over again. That’s when I felt guilty. She really did love me like a sister. The stars were sickly and the night sky was stucco and I was never all that good to her.

I cried, thinking of how I’d miss her and how terrifying she’d look after she’d decomposed like the dead man in the river. That was how I pictured her while I grieved. I was unsure how well I’d known her, so all I had was what she left behind.

a/n- i promise i'll write something good soon, but idk, i'm feeling uninspired and bland so i revisited some stuff i wrote for creative writing class

#my ocs #oc writing #short story #short fiction

[allthingsfangirl101]

Bad Influence–Steve Harrington

After dinner, I headed up to my room. I grabbed my homework and spread it around my bed. I was in the middle of my calc homework when I heard a knock. I looked over my shoulder, my eyes widening when I saw a certain boy standing outside my window.

Steve jerked his head over his shoulder, signaling for me to come outside.

I shook my head no.

He sighed before jerking his head again. I shook my head again as I pointed at my watch.

He shrugged his shoulders as he mouthed, "So?"

I sighed before grabbing a scrap piece of paper and writing; Curfew.

He knocked on my window, finally making me jump up. I ran over to my window and swung it open.

"Don't do that," I whispered. "My parents will hear you and we'll both be in trouble."

"Y/N. . ."

"You really shouldn't be here, Steve. If my parents find out you're sneaking over. . ."

"Why don't they like me?" He asked, pretending like he didn't care about the answer.

"My mom likes you," I defended.

"Your dad doesn't."

"To be fair," I sighed, "he doesn't like anyone. Especially teenage boys the same age as his daughter. Double especially if they're interested in her."

My comment made us both laugh. He reached over and grabbed my hands that were resting on the window sill. When he looked up at me, his eyes were soft.

"I'm not the guy I used to be," he whispered.

"I know that," I said quickly. "It's just. . . My dad doesn't think people can change."

"Especially a teenage boy who cares about his daughter," Steve mumbled.

"He'll see it," I said, trying to make him feel better. "Once he accepts that I'm not a little girl anymore and that you are exactly who I should be with, he'll come around. He'll see that you're different now."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will, Steve."

"But what if he doesn't?!"

He sighed, instantly regretting his outburst. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just. . . I hate that he won't let us see each other. I even asked his permission to take you on a date and he said no. He didn't even give me a reason why. He just said that I wasn't good enough."

I cut him off by grabbing his face and pressing my lips to his. He sucked in a surprised gasp but quickly recovered and started kissing me back.

Even though Steve asked my dad if he could take me on a date a couple of days ago, we've been together for a couple of weeks. Steve works at the ice cream shop in the mall and I work at a store within the mall. We change our schedules so we can have lunch together. Some days we even sync our breaks.

I broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against his, but didn't let go of his face. Eventually, Steve leaned back and reached up, grabbing my wrists. He hesitated before slowly pulling my hands away from his face.

"Come with me," he whispered. "I know your parents are in the other room and we could get caught but. . . Please."

I intertwined our fingers, causing him to smile. He instantly helped me out of my window. We walked around the side of my house to the tree on the corner of our property. I smiled when I saw the setup.

Under our tree, Steve had set up blankets, pillows, candles, and a small picnic basket.

"What is all this?" I asked as I glanced back at Steve.

"Happy three-month anniversary."

I bit back the tears as I threw my arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I can't believe you did all of this for me," I whispered, subconsciously tightening my arms around him.

Steve pulled out of the hug and smiled down at me. He grabbed my hand and led me over to the blanket. We sat down and I couldn't help but laugh when I saw the picnic basket was actually an ice chest. He pulled out a large Sunday that he had clearly gotten from work.

We spent the next hour, cuddled together, eating ice cream. When the ice cream was gone, I leaned into Steve and rested my head on his shoulder.

"I still can't believe you did this," I sighed.

"What do you mean?" Steve chuckled. "You deserve this. And more."

"We've only been together three months."

"Excuse me?"

We jumped up at my father's voice. We turned around, greeted by his disapproving glare.

"Dad," I stuttered. "I can explain. . ."

"I told you to stay away from my daughter," Dad said, not looking at me. All of his anger was focused on Steve.

"Dad, please. . ."

"Y/N, go inside," he cut me off harshly. "I'll deal with you later. Right now, I need to remind this boy. . ."

"Sir," Steve cut off my father. "I know you think I'm a bad influence on Y/N, but the truth is, she's an influence on me. Ever since I met her, I've known how incredible she is and I've wanted to become someone worthy of her. I've made mistakes. I've done stupid things. But not since I met your daughter. I care about Y/N, very much, sir. I would never do anything to hurt her."

I held my breath as I waited for my father to say something, anything.

"Dad, I. . ."

"Ever since we moved to this town," my father cut me off, "weird things have been happening. First, people went missing. Then, all those power outages. Rumors of aliens. Russians attacking. Who knows what's next. I need to know that you would protect my daughter if something happened."

"I would," Steve said quickly. "I would do whatever it takes to protect Y/N, sir."

"You'd risk your own life?" He asked.

"If it meant keeping her safe," Steve said without a second thought.

"Why?"

"What?" Steve stuttered, taken back by my father's short question.

"You just said that you would risk your own life to protect Y/N."

"And I meant it," Steve said slowly, yet firmly.

"Would you die for her?"

"Dad," I sighed. I was about to say something but Steve cut me off.

"Yes."

I looked over at him to see him staring directly at my father. I glanced at my dad to see his expression hadn't changed.

"You're willing to see my daughter even though I told you to leave her alone," my father started listing off. "You snuck over to my house, knowing I was inside to what?"

"To celebrate the three months I've spent with your daughter," Steve said instantly. He glanced over at me and smiled as he added, "The best three months of my life."

"The best three months of my life too," I said softly.

"Mr. Y/L/N," Steve said before slowly turning back towards my father, "I know what you think of me and I don't blame you for being hesitant. You're protecting her, but you have to understand that I would never do anything to hurt her. I'm not the same guy I was in high school. And Y/N's a big part of that."

"Steve," my father sighed.

"I swear," Steve interrupted my father. "I'm not that same guy I was in high school, sir."

"Do you still drink?" My father cut him off again. "What about drugs? You did those in high school."

"Dad," I cut him off. "That's not fair."

"It isn't?" My father scoffed. "Y/N, drugs only lead to something worse and you don't need that in your life."

"But Dad. . ."

"No," he said sharply. "I am trying to protect you."

"And I am trying to tell you that Steve changed," I said, gaining my confidence. "I knew him in high school, okay? I know exactly what kind of guy he was. But I also know him now. Trust me, Dad. He's different now. He's better. He doesn't drink. He stopped doing drugs. But you refuse to see that."

"Y/N. . ."

"No," I cut him off, angry tears filling my eyes. "You refuse to see that he's exactly who I should be with. It doesn't matter to you that he's changed. It doesn't matter that he worked hard to get better. It doesn't matter that I love him."

"You do?" Steve stuttered. I looked over to see him smiling at me.

"I do," I said with a small—slightly embarrassed—shrug.

He chuckled as he slowly walked toward me. He reached forward and grabbed my hands. He looked down as he intertwined our fingers. When he looked up at me, his eyes were soft.

"I love you too," he said gently. "More than I've ever loved anyone in my life."

He glanced down at my lips, but suddenly looked away. It was then that I remembered my Dad was still a couple of feet away from us. I glanced over my shoulder, surprised by what I saw.

My father was smiling.

"You're right," he said. "You have changed, Steve."

My dad was about to walk inside but stopped. He glanced over at me before looking at Steve.

"If you hurt my daughter," he started to threaten.

"I won't," Steve said quickly. "I promise."

Dad nodded before sending me a small smile. He turned around and finally headed back inside. The second my dad was in the house, Steve and I closed the gap between us.

I jumped into his arms and he easily caught me. He wrapped his arms around my waist as I wrapped my arms around his neck. We slowly pulled out of our hug.

I looked up at him and he looked down at me. We held our stares for a minute before slowly starting to lean in. Soon our lips pressed together. The second they touched, I tightened my arms around him.

We broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily. Steve leaned his forehead against mine as we caught our breaths.

"Do you think your father would be mad if we finished our date?" Steve asked, his voice soft.

"I think it would be okay," I chuckled. I was about to walk back to the blanket, but he pulled on my arm and stopped me. He slowly pulled me into his chest. He smiled before whispering.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Steve."

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #joe keery #joe keery imagines #joe keery x reader #joe keery POV