#every road leads to midnight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-boy-meets-evil · 5 months

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all roads lead back to you | c.sc (scoups)

(where you take an annual cabin trip with your friends and your ex decides to join this year)

pairing: ex!seungcheol (scoups) x f!reader genre: exes to lovers | angst, smut rating: explicit - minors DNI word count: ~10.6k warnings: these are exes and the relationship ended badly, but we're healing, drinking, midnight kisses, reader is mentioned as wearing a skirt & tights, making out, seungcheol picks reader up, body worship, slight nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), choking, cheol has a big dick (i don't make the rules), unprotected sex (they talk about it, but don't do this), multiple orgasms & overstimulation (f. receiving), aftercare

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 11 - cabin vacation. i'm not really sure what happened, something about scoups just makes me blackout and write too much (i only started this 2 days ago). also shoutout to @tbzhub for saying we'd do this together lmao. thank you to @gyuwoncheol, @wonwussy, & @wooahaeproductions for helping me land on cheol for this fic. also, just for fun, tagging some scoups enjoyers because i'm nothing if not a menace: @ugh-yoongi, @seungkwansphd, @wongyuseokie, @beomcoups, @horanghater, @cheolism

The holidays are usually your favorite time of year. Sure, they’re really hectic and there’s always way too much to do without nearly enough time to do it. But, you still love it. Love being around friends and family. Love how everyone seems to acknowledge that any problems can wait for the new year. This is a time for joy and happiness. A time to celebrate all the wonderful things that did happen and leave the bad in the year you’re leaving behind.

This time of year also brings around an annual trip that you take with friends. A trip to a secluded cabin where you can all just disconnect. Where you can sit by the fireplace and read. Where you can go to the nearby resort to ski or snowboard. Where you can drink hot cocoa and swap stories and just enjoy the company without the bustle of the city. It’s one of your favorite weekends every time the holidays roll around.

Not this year.

This year, your friends decide that they want to make the group a little bigger and spend a long weekend, including New Year’s Eve, together. Which is great, you’re single and there’s nobody else you’d rather ring the New Year in with. Except for one problem. Your ex is also coming. It’s been a little over a year since you broke up, so you know it’s time to move on. Moving on feels a lot harder when he decides he’s going to come to the cabin weekend again this year. It shouldn’t really surprise you. After all, you were friends before you dated. Didn’t think anything could stop you from being friends after. Didn’t actually think there would be an after, if you’re honest. And you’re definitely not going to be the one to back out or admit you’re still not really over it.

So, that’s why you’re sitting in a car with Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Mimi, headed off to the cabins that your friends booked for an extended long weekend. You’re just thankful that Wonwoo offered you a spot in his car on the way up. Makes it a lot easier. Even if it means Jihoon and Mimi are currently in each other’s space in the backseat as she shows him something on her phone. It’s not that you mind how cute they are together, it’s just still weird to see Jihoon acting like that with anyone. She seems to have waltzed in and melted any defenses he had.

From his position in the driver’s seat, Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your thigh. You look over at him, grateful for the reminder that you’re not alone in all of this. Grateful that he swore up and down to make sure you never felt awkward the whole weekend. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think, as you queue up more songs for the drive. That’s the best part about being in the front seat. You get to control the music and Wonwoo started the trip by telling Jihoon and Mimi just to roll with it. Not that they’re paying all that much attention, but it was a nice thought all the same.

The drive up is uneventful. Wonwoo navigates the winding back roads with a practiced ease. You sigh happily, taking in all the trees dusted with snow and the winter wonderland all around as you leave most of your troubles behind. There’s something almost refreshing about being out here. Like the air is crisper and everything is stiller. Wonwoo would make a smartass comment about how there’s more trees, less pollution, and a lot fewer people. So, of course all those things are true. You think it’s more, something about the magic of Christmas and the New Year.

Your smile falls the second you pull up to the main cabin because you can see that Seungcheol’s car is already there. Figures he would not only drive, but beat you there. You try to set that aside, though, because the place is beautiful. It’s set up with a main cabin where you can hang out, cook, play games, or do whatever you want. Then, there are separate small cabins, mostly just with bedrooms and bathrooms, to sleep in. Nayeon, bless her, took care of figuring out the sleeping arrangements for everyone. At least that would be easy.

Jihoon and Mimi are out of the car almost as soon as it stops, even if Jihoon grumbles about how his legs are stiff and the air is cold. It takes one smile from Mimi and he’s smiling back, grabbing their bags from the car to head for the main cabin. Meanwhile, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and makes sure everything is turned off before getting out of the car to stretch. When he meets you at the trunk, his gaze is soft.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks.

You sigh and pull out your suitcase, with a little help from your friend. “No.”

“We shouldn’t have come,” Wonwoo says.

“Just because I’m being a baby doesn’t mean you should’ve stayed away,” you reassure him.

“You’re not being a baby,” he says with a frown.

“Still,” you press. “We’ve been broken up for a year. There’s going to be a lot of people here, it’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Wonwoo relents. “He didn’t bring anyone, did he?”

“No, Nayeon said it’s just him. She’s worried about me too,” you say with a playful eye roll. “She’s got me staying in a cabin with you, her, and Joshua.”

“I’m glad we’re at least staying together,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m gonna be fine, Wonwoo, you worry too much,” you insist.

You get through the first night and breakfast the next morning without having to say a single word to Seungcheol. It’s been awhile since you last saw some of your friends, so there’s a lot to catch up on. The group is also pretty large, which makes it easier to blend in. Everything, even something as simple as making a meal, is kind of a process, too. You’ve always been pretty comfortable in the kitchen and offer to help cook. Seungcheol can’t say the same. It feels like maybe it’ll be smooth and you can just do your own separate things without it being a big deal. Like you can both just agree to give each other space during the trip and not be awkward.

That lasts until the afternoon on the first full day, unfortunately.

Even though a lot of people take time off between Christmas and New Year’s, a decent portion of the group decides a Friday will still be less busy on the slopes. They want to get some runs in earlier in the day before whatever everyone wants to do later. Seungcheol, thankfully, was one of the first to say he wanted to go. Not surprising, you know he likes really anything where he can be active. Wonwoo was also quick to say he wanted to, after asking you if that was okay. You, again, insisted it was fine.

You’re reading your book by the fire, periodically watching Jun, Nayeon, and Mimi play cards on the other side of the room, when Seungcheol comes hobbling back in. Minghao just behind him, scolding him for not waiting and ruining the peaceful atmosphere.

“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, looking up from the game.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says shortly.

“He rolled his ankle,” Minghao interjects.

“Now you see why I stayed behind,” Jun says.

“I’m fine, really,” Seungcheol insists.

“You should ice it just in case. And keep it elevated,” Minghao says as heads off to the kitchen.

Trying to keep your face straight, you mark the page in your book and get up. All you want is for this to be as subtle as possible. But, Jun is also in the room.

“Where are you going?” Jun asks.

“Oh, just back to my room to get something,”

It’s a lie and you’re pretty sure they know it, but you also don’t care. You’re not going to stay in the room with an injured Seungcheol because he gets pouty when he can’t do exactly what he wants. This is going to be one of those times. There’s no way he’s going to be happy sitting still when he knows his other friends are still out on the trails. Especially when it’s such a minor thing. You hope that they all understand your decision to just let them deal with him and whatever he has to say.

When you feel like it’s been enough time, you venture back into the main cabin, portable charger in hand, for good measure. Not that you think anyone will ask what it is that you needed from your room, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Just in case. At first glance, you think the main living area is empty. That makes you sigh in a little relief. Not that you want to be alone when this is a trip for friends. It’s just nice to have a quiet moment in all the chaos. You think you’ll be able to get back to your book, at least for a little, until you notice someone laying on the couch. Not someone. Seungcheol. Quickly, you turn around, hoping he doesn’t see you. And it would probably work, if you didn’t bump into the corner of a table on your way out.

His head snaps up and swivels to look at you. “What - oh.”

“Sorry, I was just leaving,” you say.

“Can you really not be in the same room as me?” he asks. He sits up so that he can look at you more easily.

“I’ve been in the same room as you plenty,” you point out.

“Not alone,” he persists.

“What reason would we possibly have to be alone together?” you wonder.

“You don’t have to be so…” he starts.

“So, what?” you press.

“So…like this,” Seungcheol finishes, somewhat lamely.

“How should I be?” you ask.

“I don’t know, just, not like this. We were always comfortable with each other, even before…” he starts and stops suddenly.

“Before we dated? Before you shattered my heart? Before you decided it was easier to shut me out instead of just talking to me?” you ask, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“I know,” he admits.

“You just abandoned me,” you say quietly. “I needed you and you weren’t there. I never would’ve left you like that.”

“I know. I made so many mistakes. So many things I can’t take back,” he says. He actually looks remorseful. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m so sorry for that. I would take it all back if I could. I’d do everything differently.”

“This was a mistake,” you say.

“Talking to me?” he asks.

“Coming on this trip at all,” you admit and turn away. “I have to go.”

With your back to him, you miss the way his face falls at your admission. Don’t see the way he considers getting up to follow after you. It’s for the best, anyway. Your heart's already breaking again just from one conversation. Just from seeing the emotion on his face. The one face you thought you’d always know better than your own. It’s amazing how everything can change in a single moment. How something that took years to build, first as friends and then as a couple, can all come tumbling down in a second. A split second or a fork in the road. One wrong turn and it’s all gone.

You make it through to Saturday without any more forced conversations with your ex-boyfriend. Manage to sit on the opposite end of the table from him during meals. Wait until he commits to playing a game or watching something before you decide what to do yourself. Still, you feel very included in everything with different groups of your friends because there are plenty of people there to hang out with. If you take the forced conversation with him out of the equation, it’s actually been a pretty good trip, overall. Not nearly as hard as you expected it to be.

“I’m gonna go check out the lodge at the mountain, anyone wanna come?” Wonwoo throws out. There’s a smattering of lukewarm responses. Mostly, people say they may hit the trails a little bit later after they’ve had a lazy morning.

“I’ll come,” you offer.

“Shocking that you two are a pair,” Nayeon jokes from her spot on the couch, curled up with Joshua.

“That’s enough out of you,” you joke back before turning to Wonwoo. “I’ll go grab my coat.”

“Can you grab my hat? I think I left it in my room,” Wonwoo requests.

“Sure,” you agree.

When you meet Wonwoo in the entranceway, you find your eyes back on the living area. Almost like you can feel someone watching you. But, when nobody is, you figure that you must have imagined it, not noticing the way Seungcheol’s jaw tightens or his mouth turns down in frown. He had just been looking and he wasn’t liking what he saw. Instead, having missed all that, you fall into step beside one of your closest friends and head out of the cabin.

“It’s not a far walk, but we can drive if you want,” Wonwoo offers, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“No, a walk would be nice. It’s not as cold today,” you say.

One of the best parts of being friends with Wonwoo is the sheer comfort you feel with him. It’s always been like this, since the beginning of your friendship. Always just as easy to say the hard things to him as it is to sit in silence. Always easy to avoid the hard things, because he seems to find it easy to to tell when you don’t want to say something. Unfortunately, it’s also easy for him to push you to speak, even when you’re not sure if you want to. Like now, as soon as you reach the Lodge.

“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asks as the pair of you make your way over to a stand selling hot drinks.

“I’m assuming you don’t mean from the walk over here,” you deflect while you look at the menu.

“No,” Wonwoo answers simply.

“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping up to the counter. “Peppermint hot chocolate and whatever he wants.”

“You don’t have to…” Wonwoo starts, falling silent at the look you give him. He sighs, knowing you won’t relent. “Just a plain hot chocolate.”

“Thanks,” you say as you pay.

“You’re not fine. I can see it on you,” Wonwoo says.

You pause when someone calls out your name for the order. “I really am doing fine. The only hard part was getting sucked into a short conversation with him yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Wonwoo asks.

“Nothing much,” you say and meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You can tell you need to carry on. So, you recount the conversation as best as you can remember.

“He misses you,” Wonwoo surmises.

“And if he does? What does it matter?” you ask.

“You miss him too,” Wonwoo points out. “That’s why it matters.”

“I don’t,” you argue. “He broke my heart.”

“What happened? A year ago when you broke up, what happened?” Wonwoo asks.

“You know what happened,” you say with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. I know he left, somehow, but I don’t know what really happened. You’ve always kept that part of the story close to the vest,” Wonwoo says.

“Because it still hurts,” you plead.

“Maybe it’s time you let someone else take a little of that pain by talking about it,” Wonwoo suggests. You find a table to sit down as you’re considering sharing.

Ultimately, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. To get someone who knows you both, and cares about you both, to weigh in on everything that happened. Even if Wonwoo seemingly took your side, you know he still talks to Seungcheol as well. With a steadying breath, you launch into the whole explanation, at least your side of it. It’s time, past time, honestly, that you get this off your chest.

It was great, at the beginning. The two of you were friends first, for years, before something shifted and you started to see each other differently. Suddenly stepping a little more carefully around each other. Not really knowing what to do or what to expect. Not sure if it would ruin the friendship to admit that there were feelings there. Until one day, Seungcheol finally made the move, asked you out on a date, and made sure you knew that’s what he was asking. It got very serious, very quickly. Far more quickly than either of you expected. But, that’s what happens when you start as friends. There are so many things you already know, so many things you don’t have to ask, so many memories already embedded into your relationship. Things were good. It wasn’t like they were perfect. There were little fights here and there, but nothing that felt that serious. Nothing that felt like a dealbreaker.

It’s hard to admit, even to Wonwoo, that you saw Seungcheol as your forever. As someone you wouldn’t let go of once you had him. He was your safe space without ever being boring. Your protector without ever being one of those toxic assholes. Your biggest cheerleader without being condescending. It was way too early in the relationship to be feeling like he was your forever, so you didn’t ever say it to him, but you felt it. Felt it deep in your bones. He was also vulnerable with you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. At least anyone else that you’d seen. The first time he just let you take care of him, let you see him as something other than someone strong and in control, it made you fall even more deeply for him. It didn’t hurt that he nearly stopped your heart with how stupid hot he was. That gets a snort out of Wonwoo before you continue on.

Suddenly, everything changed. Seungcheol withdrew into himself and stopped confiding in you. He could always be a bit moody, a little deep in his feelings. Still, he would always talk to you about it. Would always share with you what he was feeling. Sometimes it was something so simple as you getting a little too much attention, which he didn’t like. He could be a little jealous. It was something you worked on with him. Sometimes it was a conversation with a friend weighing heavily or something going wrong at work. No matter what, he always talked to you about it. Until he didn’t. Until he just stopped saying much of anything. Until he got a bit secretive with everything in his life and you didn’t really recognize him anymore. His phone was always turned over. Not fully paying attention to you when you were in group settings. Not making plans the way he used to.

“What did you do?” Wonwoo asks.

“I confronted him,” you say. Simple. It was so simple. “I told him it wasn’t okay and that I deserved better. That we always got through things together and that we needed to get back to that.”

“Mature of you,” Wonwoo says.

“I thought so,” you say and take a steadying breath. “He agreed, even. Told me that I did deserve better.”

“So what…” Wonwoo asks, but trails off. Obviously confused.

“He said that it was too much. That he couldn’t give me the things I deserved. That I would be better off finding someone else who could,” you say and wipe away the stray tear.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Wonwoo says.

“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” you admit. “Like I was broken because someone didn’t want to love me.”

“You’re not broken,” Wonwoo insists softly, hand reaching out for one of yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But it’s okay to admit when you need help. Or when you need a friend.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but I’m here,” Wonwoo assures you.

Saturday night finds Wonwoo and Seungcheol as the last two awake in the living room, finishing their drinks in relative silence. It used to be easy for Seungcheol, sitting with his friend like this. Yet, it hasn’t been, not in the last year since he broke up with you. Not since Wonwoo made it clear that they were friends, but he was sticking by you no matter what. Not that Wonwoo’s been cold or rude or anything. That would have made it easier, Seungcheol thinks. No, instead he’s been mostly the same. Still just as friendly and supportive. All it does is make him feel worse. Why can’t Wonwoo just say what’s really on his mind?

“How was the lodge earlier?” Seungcheol asks.

“Hmm?” Wonwoo asks, eyes seeming to come back into focus as they look over at him.

“The lodge? You went over there earlier. I was just asking how it was,” Seungcheol repeats.

“Oh, fine. We just ended up getting hot chocolate and talking. Kinda watched people coming and going from the trails,” Wonwoo says like it doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t.

“Are you two…are you…” Seungcheol starts and stops the question several times.

“Dating?” Wonwoo asks, taking pity on his friend. “No. She’s been single since…”

“I broke her heart?” Seungcheol supplies humorlessly.

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“No? It seems like someone spending that much time with her would say that.”

Wonwoo regards him for a second, adjusts his glasses like he’s buying time to think. “What happened? With you and her, what happened?”

“I’m sure you’ve already heard it from her.” The answer is short. Seungcheol doesn’t want to play these games, not with someone that’s so obviously close to you.

“I’m not asking to hear it from her. I’m asking to hear it from you,” Wonwoo presses. He’s insistent, but his eyes are soft. It’s easy to wonder if it’s time to share.

“I got scared,” Seungcheol admits. “And jealous.”

“Of what? Or of who?” Wonwoo asks. Seungcheol takes a long sip of his drink and grimaces a little. He isn’t buzzed enough for this. Can’t really believe he’s entertaining sharing in the first place. But, well, isn’t this what he’s hoping for? Another chance?

“Of everything and everyone,” Seungcheol says. “She was so kind, so patient, so good to me. Good for me. Just the best person I’ve ever known. I just thought that one day, she’d wake up and she’d realize that she deserved more than me.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Why did you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol admits. “I guess, well I know I can be difficult. That I get in my head a lot. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about what I’m feeling. She made a lot of that feel easier, which made me fall harder for her. But, then she makes a lot of people feel that way, doesn’t she? Like she’s the only one who will understand. I don’t even think I was the only friend of ours that had feelings for her. I just, I don’t know, it sounds so fucking dumb now, but I couldn’t compete.”

“It wasn’t a competition, Cheol,” Wonwoo says.

“I know that,” Seungcheol insists.

Wonwoo fixes him with a stare. “Do you? She’s a lot of things, maybe a lot that make people interested in her. But, she chose you. She chose you and kept choosing you, every chance she got. I don’t think that ever would’ve changed.”

“Do you want me to feel worse?” Seungcheol asks, voice rising a bit. “I already told her that I would go back and change things if I could, but I can’t.”

“Do you still love her?” Wonwoo asks, voice so quiet. Yet, it carries all the same.

“Of course I do,” Seungcheol says.

“Then figure out a way to tell her,” Wonwoo replies.

“It’s not that easy,” Seungcheol says. “And aren’t you supposed to be telling me to leave her alone? As her friend?”

Wonwoo rises from his seat. “It can be that easy, if you stop being your own worst enemy. And I’m your friend, too. It doesn’t seem like the chapter is really over for either of you yet.”

Seungcheol sits and considers what his friend shared. Wonders if there might be something there. He barely registers as Wonwoo says goodnight and calls a goodnight in response. Then, he’s left with his thoughts again. Should he say something? Can he bring himself to say something? Or will you just shut it down again?

New Year's Eve brings a snowstorm with it that has your group of friends deciding it’s best to just stay in the cabins instead of venturing out to the party they’re having at the lodge. There’s plenty of you for a party, plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, especially close to the fire. The snow falls lightly outside the windows, blanketing everything around with a fresh layer of powdery flakes. It’s not supposed to get truly heavy until much later in the evening. So, you can just get dressed up and have a party with everyone that’s familiar to you. No worrying about mixing with strangers and how they’ll impact the party.

When you and Mingyu go into the kitchen to take stock of what you have and plan out the food for the day, you realize that maybe you don’t have everything that you need after all. You could actually use more food and you definitely could use some champagne to toast with. It makes sense, though, you planned to go into the lodge to ring in the new year. Your smile when Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Joshua offer to go out and do a run is immediate and wide. You hand over a list of what you need (well, you text it to all three of them just to cover your bases) and they’re off into town. That lets you turn back to the kitchen, where Mingyu and Mimi are starting on an appetizer. You’re trying to figure out what you can work on when someone clears their throat. Your heart skips a little when you look up.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Seungcheol asks you, face more open than you’ve seen in a while.

It makes your mouth go dry. How are you supposed to turn him down when he’s asking in front of everyone like this? Like it’s just a totally normal thing to ask? All you can do is nod and avoid looking at anyone else around you. Just nod and follow him into a smaller side room off the main living area.

“Thanks,” he says when they stop walking.

“What was I supposed to do? Make a scene?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to ask you to talk,” he admits.

“I heard you,” you say, cutting across his words. He looks confused. “Last night? I heard you talking to Wonwoo. I left my charger in here and came back to get it.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Oh?” you repeat.

“I wanted to actually tell you, not have you overhear me talking through things with someone else,” he says, mouth turned down like he’s upset.

“Then you should have just talked to me,” you press.

“I couldn’t! You won’t talk to me,” he says defensively.

“Not this weekend. A year ago, when it all happened,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says. You expect him to look annoyed or defeated, but he only looks sincere. “I knew the moment you walked out that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I’ve tried a hundred times since then to just talk to you, but the words never felt right.”

“Cheol,” you plead. You’ve been waiting a year to hear this. Except, you finally feel like you’re starting to move past it all and this is only making it confusing.

“Just, you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear me out,” Seungcheol pleads. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you that, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“I fucked up. I knew I did when you walked out, but it took me a while to realize just how bad. I didn’t just drive a partner away, I drove someone away that got through all my walls in a way nobody else ever has. I drove away the person that made me feel comfortable, that supported me even when I was being an idiot, that constantly showed up for me. I was afraid that I didn’t deserve you and always jealous of everyone else that paid attention to you. I thought one day you were gonna wake up and realize that there were better people out there that were less, I don’t know, emotionally closed off. I didn’t realize until way too late that you knew exactly what you brought to the table and what you deserved, but you picked me. I didn’t realize that it’s the only thing I ever needed, was you seeing all of me and picking me anyway,” Seungcheol says.

“I don’t, that’s…” you trail off and shake your head to clear it. You’re trying to find the words when Nayeon pokes her head in.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to butt in, but Mimi just kicked me out of the kitchen. I was only offering because Mingyu said he needed help,” Nayeon says. “I think they need you.”

“Oh, um,” you start, kind of like a deer in headlights.

“You should go help him. I don’t want everyone hating me for keeping you from helping Mingyu,” Seungcheol says with a light chuckle at complete odds with the situation.

“Thank you,” Nayeon says with a smile as she grabs your arm to whisk you away.

“Does Mingyu actually need me?” you ask.

“Huh? Yeah, he does,” Nayeon laughs. “I wasn’t trying to save you, you’re good enough at that on your own.”

“I don’t buy that,” you say, pulling both of you to a halt. Nayeon rolls her eyes.

“Fine, maybe I heard what he said to Wonwoo last night from Joshua and maybe I want you to at least consider what he has to say,” Nayeon admits. “I liked you together, sue me.”

“I just might,” you grumble, heading off to help Mingyu in the kitchen without Nayeon in tow.

After dinner, you and Mingyu insist that you’re not getting anything, for anyone, for the rest of the night. And probably into tomorrow. Mimi got distracted part way through and disappeared for entirely too long with Jihoon. Which would be fine, but there were a lot of people to cook for and you needed all the help you could get. Joshua popped in and out, thankfully, but it was still tiring. The perk has been that you actually haven’t had to lift a finger since. Your drink stays full and someone is always willing to get you something to eat. That lets you settle in to play a game with the group.

The TV in the background steadily counts down as it gets closer to midnight. Occasionally, the performance draws your attention to watch. Mostly, you’re just drinking entirely too much. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, you know that you’re just trying to avoid thinking about everything Seungcheol said. Or trying to avoid thinking how good he looks tonight. It’s hard to stop yourself from lingering on the way his shirt clings to his chest. Has he been working out even more? Or the way his pants stretch tight across his thighs. Not for the first time, you shake your head to clear it, recross your legs, and focus on whatever game it is you’re playing. Ignore the look Wonwoo gives you from his place next to you. He certainly hasn’t missed your looks. (And nobody else really has, either, except for Jun. But, that’s just Jun for you.)

Everyone sets aside the games when it gets closer to midnight, milling around with varying amounts of energy instead of sitting still. You realize, even with any awkwardness from Seungcheol being there, you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather ring in a new year with. Surrounded by all of your favorite people, what else could anyone ask for? Well, except maybe a New Year’s kiss. As if on cue, your glance drifts over to Seungcheol. It’s a little surprising to find he’s already looking at you, smiling softly. It sends a surge of emotion through you to think of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. When you turn away to take a sip of your drink, you find it’s empty. With midnight rapidly approaching, you really need a refill on the champagne. You’re about to go do that when a voice breaks into your thoughts.

“Here,” he says.

You turn to look at Seungcheol, now very firmly in your space, holding out a new glass of champagne. “Thanks.”

“I just noticed you were almost empty and figured you’d want it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I should make sure this one lasts,” you chuckle out.

The host on TV announces that there’s only a minute left. Everyone around you starts talking excitedly or getting closer to their partners, if they have them. Jokingly, you told Wonwoo that he would be your New Year’s kiss. Now, that’s the last thing on your mind. Seungcheol hovers close by. When you look over at him, though, his eyes are on the TV, counting down along with the host when it gets to ten seconds.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Everyone shouts together and starts clinking glasses. Hugging their friends or kissing their partners. Your body makes the decision for you when you turn to the man next to you and cheers his glass. As he starts to turn away, you grab his arm and pull him into you. Press your lips against his before either of you can figure out what’s happening. He recovers from his surprise quickly and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. It’s familiar and also somehow completely new at the same time.

Breathless. That’s what you feel when you pull away and cheers with other friends. You throw your arms around Nayeon and press a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. Pointedly ignore any looks or raised eyebrows about your decision to kiss your ex in a room full of all your friends. It’s fine. Everyone is doing fine. You’re definitely thankful that someone suggests a game and you can all go back to celebrating without talking about the elephant in the room. A very different elephant than when you first got to the cabins.

There’s another massive difference, too. Instead of sitting on the fringes or carefully leaving space, Seungcheol plops down right next to you. Lets his arm rest along the back of the couch. His arm isn’t around you, but it could be with the slightest adjustment. Several of your friends look at you with the question in their eyes. You avoid all of them, like the true adult you are, and focus, instead, on the warmth of Seungcheol’s thigh when it presses into yours. Actually, you avoid drinking any more, either. The whole night has been a little confusing (read: a lot confusing) and you don’t need an alcohol haze adding to that. It doesn’t escape your notice that he stops drinking as well.

When you start to get a little tired, you excuse yourself to the kitchen, claiming you need a snack and don’t know what you want. A minute later, Seungcheol appears on the other side of the island. Leaning casually against it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he hasn’t sent your entire world into a spiral. Like he’s not still one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything…” he starts and you hold up a hand.

“I’m going to excuse myself in a minute to go to bed. Give it a few minutes and then come to my room,” you say, walking around him without waiting for a response.

When you tell the group that you’re going to turn in for the night, you do your best not to meet anyone’s eyes. You’re not naive enough to think you’re fooling anyone. Not that you even want to. It’s just, well, you want this time to figure out what’s happening. It’s a little hard to do that when you know everyone’s eyes are on the two of you. There’s the tiniest bit of you holding onto the hope that you can pass it off as you being overwhelmed by the kiss at midnight. Like you didn’t just tell him to meet you in your room.

Back in your room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on the bed. The seconds seem to drag by waiting for him to show up. For a second, you wonder if he’s actually going to show up at all. You stop those thoughts in their tracks. He had a lot to say and he kissed you back. Then, he spent the rest of the night pressed up close to you. He’s going to show up. Before you can spiral further, there’s a knock at the door. You’re halfway to the door when it opens a crack and Seungcheol peeks his head inside.

“Can I come in?” he asks, looking unsure for the first time since before you kissed him.

“I did ask you to come to my room,” you joke.

“I was a little surprised,” he admits.

“Me too,” you agree.

He shuts the door behind him, allowing you to really look at him for the first time all weekend. To take in his appearance, as he removes his jacket, without any other eyes on your. Or anyone analyzing the interaction. To just appreciate the man you fell in love with. His hair is a little shaggy and blond, a color you don’t remember seeing on him before. He catches you looking, but instead of a smirk, there’s only a smile. Hopeful and genuine. It’s a little overwhelming to have him in your space. To know you need to talk. To know there’s so much to work through.

Instead, in the only move you can think of, you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his middle. He doesn’t even miss a beat. Just wraps his arms around you, erasing any last bit of space between you. It feels calm, familiar. Like no time has passed. Like you’re not different people now. He kisses the top of your head, so soft you think it might shatter any resolve you have left.

“I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone without talking to you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“I’m not,” he quickly reassures you.

“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” you admit, still talking into his shirt rather than looking at him.

“Then,” he starts, moving a hand to tilt your chin up, “what are you waiting for?”

“We probably should talk,” you say.

“You’re right,” he sighs.

Except, do you really want to talk right now? Do you really want to stop yourself from kissing him again? You stopped drinking so your head would be clear enough to make this decision. You’re just a little sick of overthinking everything this weekend. Sensing the indecision, Seungcheol presses a feather light kiss to your lips. Enough to make the decision, while also being light enough that you could easily pull away.

You do, just for a second. “Fuck it, let’s talk tomorrow.”

Your lips crash back against Seungcheol’s, hungry and desperate, arms wrapped around his neck. It makes him tilt down a little so that you can press against him. There’s no hesitation on his end, either. You find yourself wondering if he was always this good at kissing or if he’s gotten better since you broke up. Or maybe it just means more the second time around. When he picks you up, you gasp into the kiss. Wrap your legs around his waist to feel a little steadier. Not that you think he would ever let you fall. It’s easier than you expected to fall back into this kind of trust with him.

It’s like you both want to go fast, yet also take your time. Seungcheol deposits you on the bed, then takes his time removing your shoes. Toes his off a little more quickly. You go to remove some of your layers, only to have his hands stop you. He’s so slow, removing the sheer top with painstaking care. Kissing along your skin as he exposes it. The amount of attention makes you squirm. You’re prepared for something quick and dirty. Something more like a one-night stand. You’re not prepared for him to worship your body as he exposes more of your skin. Part of you feels really exposed, because he’s still fully dressed, as he carefully unhooks your bra. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world he’s ever wanted, makes your heart ache. Makes you second guess if this is right.

“We can stop. We don’t have to do this,” he whispers into your skin.

You grab his face so that you can look him in the eyes. There’s something in you that just needs to gauge him for a minute. Needs to really know what decision you’re making. There’s so much love there, so many unspoken words, so much sincerity. Maybe you’re not over him at all. Maybe he meant everything he said.

“No, I want this. Want you,” you assure him.

His eyes sparkle a little. There’s no time to dwell on it, though. His mouth is on your skin again. Kissing the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. Kissing the beauty mark on your shoulder. Kissing across your collarbone. When he works his way down to your nipples, he’s not being so soft anymore. He pinches one between his fingers without warning.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss.

“Too much?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking, but you do anyway. That knowing smirk sends desire coursing through you.

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine.

He pinches the same nipple again. Watches you as he flicks his tongue over the other. Actually smiles when you arch into his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind it.”

You wind your hand into his hair in response, pull a little harder than normal. He groans against your breast, sending a little vibration into your skin. “You don’t seem to mind a little pain, either.”

There’s no answer. Not that you need it. One of his hands moves down your body, mouth still focusing on your chest, until he gets to your thigh. Your skirt is bunching up around hips from squirming on the bed. “How much do you like these tights?”

You look down at the sparkly tights you bought just for the party. That you’ll probably never wear again. “I mean, they’ve got sparkles. Wasn’t planning to wear them again.”

“Good,” he says.

You’re expecting him to rip them on the spot. Instead, he returns his mouth to yours, kissing you hard, and lets a finger run over your entrance, through both tights and underwear. It’s not enough. There’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He’s teasing you, he has to be. There’s no other reason that explains this kind of torture.

“Jesus, Cheol, please,” you beg.

“What are you trying to do to me?” he groans. Seems like he still likes it when you beg for something.

In either case, he carefully rips a hole in your tights, too focused on you to figure out pulling them down. Seemingly in one motion, your underwear is pushed to the side and he’s got a finger running up your entrance. Feeling that you’re turned on from the way he’s been kissing all over your body. Thankfully, you don’t have to beg again. At least, not yet. He presses his fingers at your mouth and you suck them in eagerly. Swirl your tongue around them. He almost looks reluctant when he withdraws them to press one inside your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Forgot how good your fingers felt,” you answer, squirming underneath him.

“Bet I could make you come just on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second one.

“Fuck,” you draw out. He’s not being gentle with you anymore. “Then you don’t get to taste me. And we both know how much you love that.”

He leans in closer, you’re assuming to kiss you. Instead, his lips find your ear. “Who says I can’t do both?”

You bite down on your fist to keep from screaming out when he thrusts faster. Try your best to hold on when his thumb brushes over your clit. All you want is to prove him wrong. Prove that you can hold on and that you’re not putty in his hands. Except, your body remembers. It remembers just how good he makes you feel. Remembers how well he knows what makes you crazy. Nobody has ever known your body like him. And it’s a little annoying. With his fingers inside you, it’s easy to realize that nobody feels as good as him. You could never get yourself off like he could.

It’s an embarrassingly short time before you’re coming on his fingers, fighting not to scream out. Trying anything you can not to make it more obvious just why you decided it was time to head to bed. Seungcheol guides you through the high as you fall back into the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. After a moment, you prop yourself up to watch him remove his shirt. You’re no longer the only one that’s overexposed. Then again, you don’t feel exposed being half naked around him. It only feels comfortable. Once he removes his shirt, he moves back to your body. Actually takes the time to remove your tights and underwear now. His breath ghosts across your cunt. That action alone is enough to send a little shiver through your body. You’re definitely sensitive.

Seungcheol positions himself between your legs and looks up when you suck in a breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

He’s so pretty like this. You’ve always thought that. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at you from underneath his lashes like he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. So caring. The little bit of caution you get from him in the middle of him ruining you. You clear your throat to remember he asked you a question. “Yes, Cheol. With you, always.”

It’s immediately more honest than either of you are expecting. Instead of breaking the moment, though, it seems to spur him on. The kind smile dissipates into something much more confident. He spreads you open and looks up for a last time before his tongue licks a strip up your entrance. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time he was between your legs, your entire body remembers. It’s like muscle memory. The way your back arches. The way your hand knots in his hair. The way the praises fall from your lips. You’re sensitive. So fucking sensitive. And he knows. It’s always been one of his favorite things with you. Pushing you to the edge and then over again.

“God, I forgot how fucking good you taste,” he says when he takes a breath.

“Well maybe, fuckkkk,” you start before cutting out.

For once, he’s not a demon. He doesn’t ask what you were about to stay. Just keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. When his nose bumps against your clit as he’s buried deep in your pussy, you lose it again. Come all over his tongue and his face. Come harder than you remember coming in a really long time. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

By the time the last shock works through your body, he’s laying next to you on the bed. You can’t help it. You have to lean over and kiss him. Want to taste yourself on his lips. It’s almost like you need that to know this is all real. That it’s all happening and it’s not just some weird, horny dream. (It’s not like that would be a first, either. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve thought a lot about him since you broke up. Especially when you were horny and needed a release. That’s your business, though.)

“Fuck, Cheol,” you utter when you pull away from the kiss.

“I’ve missed hearing my name on your lips,” he admits. “Specially when you call me Cheol.”

“I’ve missed saying it,” you share, equally honest.

You’re a little weak already. It’s hard to imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. But, you move down the bed anyway. Seungcheol tracks you with his eyes as you position to undo his pants. He moves his hips up to help you pull both his pants and briefs down. His stare as you pull your skirt down and discard it at the side of the bed is almost possessive. It sends something through your body.

It’s your turn to remind him that he’s not the only one who remembers. You also remember just what drives him crazy and just how to get him going. You remember every place he likes to be kissed. So, you start there. Run your lips along every part of his body, like you’re committing him to memory again. As if you could ever forget anything about him. You delight in the sounds you pull from him just with your kisses. Maybe he knows, though, that you’re working your way down.

“So hard just from getting me off,” you comment.

“Because I know that nobody can make you come like I can and it’s fucking hot,” he answers.

It’s the same answer he’s always given and something about the familiarity makes you bolder. Even though you know there’s a conversation for tomorrow, it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You take his dick in your hand, run a finger over the tip and feel a little bit of the precum there. When you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, he shudders. Closes his eyes for a second before they snap back open to watch you. He’s always been like this. Always wanting to watch. This time is no different as you slowly take him into your mouth. You know he wants to fuck into your face, know you’d let him. But, you’re thankful he doesn’t. Even if you remember, he’s still big and thick inside your mouth. You need the time to get used to him. Once you do, though, you start to bob. Slowly, at first, before you let him take control. Relax your throat and let him find purchase in your hair. Encourage him to jerk his hips up as you keep your eyes on him as much as possible. You know how much it drives him crazy, even as the tears form and you gag a little

“Fuck,” Seungcheol utters.

He pulls you off his cock and up to his face so that he can kiss you. This is your favorite version of him. When he’s needy and desperate and completely putty in your hands. Like he can’t possibly imagine being anywhere that you aren’t. It’s when you know that you’re not crazy, that he’s just as far gone for you as you are for him.

“I really need to fuck you,” he says. His lips are swollen from kissing you and his pupils are completely blown. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.”

“It’s fine, I’m still on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since you,” you say.

That seems to catch him off guard. “You haven’t?”

“No,” you answer.

“I haven’t either,” he admits.

“Then, we’re fine. I trust you,” you tell him.

“Thank god, I really miss being inside you,” he breathes out.

“Think you just miss me,” you grumble as you reposition to straddle his lap.

“You and that smartass mouth of yours,” he retorts.

“I’m about to ride you, Seungcheol, and you just fucked my smartass mouth. So, maybe, pipe down,” you warn him.

This has always been your dynamic, swapping back and forth for who’s in control. As much as he says he likes control, you know he likes giving it up to you just as much. You know that he hasn’t ever let anyone else be in control apart from you. He looks up at you as you position yourself over him. There was a time when you hated this position. Felt really self conscious about how you must look from this angle. The second you admitted it to him, he was quick with his praise. Assuring you that you’re beautiful to him and there’s nothing to worry about.

He stops you before you lower yourself onto him. Puts his fingers in your mouth again and you obey without a second thought. Then, he runs his fingers along your entrance. Slides a finger in before quickly adding a second. It’s an awkward angle, but you get what he’s trying to do. Appreciate that he wants to make sure you’re at least a little prepped. When he pulls his fingers out, you’re only a little embarrassed at the moan that slips through your lips. If you completely ignore the smirk that he throws your way, well, who can blame you? The smirk is gone a second later when you finally lower yourself onto him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans.

You know him so well. You know his instinct is to buck his hips up into you. You know it’s hard for him to let you adjust. But, you also know that he wants to be gentle, even if it’s just for a moment.

“I forgot how good you felt, jesus fuck,” you moan out.

“Please, I need to feel you move,” he begs. It’s nice, when he’s the one to beg for something.

And who are you to deny him anything he asks for when he sounds so pretty asking? You do move, entirely too slowly. You need to find your rhythm, though. Need to find some place to anchor your hands. They settle on his chest, at first, and you actually can’t believe how much muscle he has there. He’s always liked to work out. Always wanted to be in shape. This is even more than that. You’re still appreciating the way his chest feels when he grabs one of your hands. Without a word, he moves it to his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods. It’s been awhile since you choked him, even lightly, but it turns you on. It’s easy to see that it turns him on, too. As you apply a little bit of pressure, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips. You do everything that you can to pick up the pace. To move faster on top of him. It doesn’t take very long until he’s planting his feet so that he can set the pace. He takes over the rhythm and it gets a lot harder. Bodies slapping together with each movement.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you say, trying not to scream.

You move your hand from his neck so that you have a better grip. He’s moving too fast for you to feel comfortable that you won’t press too hard into his neck. It’s insane, you know that it’s insane, but you already feel like you’re getting close again. You start to clench around Seungcheol, making the stretch feel that much more intense.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come if you do that,” he groans.

“Then do it,” you force out. “Wanna feel it inside me.”

“Jesus,” he groans.

Everything happens so fast. You can feel him everywhere and your body is on fire. He’s still fucking hard into you, but he’s also rubbing your clit. Helping you get there with him. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to realize you’re already on the verge of your third orgasm. Oversensitive and overstimulated. Your body starts to shake and it’s hard to keep yourself upright on top of him.

“Fuck, Cheol, I’m coming,” you hiss out.

“I’m about to come too, fuck,” he answers.

His thrusts get a lot more erratic and you feel him let loose inside you. You feel the way he moves to try and support you even while he’s working through his own release. When he stills, you collapse forward onto his chest. Breaths shallow and heavy. Your whole body’s exhausted, yet so happy at the same time. Carefully, you pull yourself off him. You’re sure a little bit of cum slides out with the loss of his cock inside you. Not that you care.

It’s several minutes of silence. Seungcheol lays on his back and you’re on your side next to him. It might be a mark of how much he really did miss you that he doesn’t flinch when you start tracing patterns onto his stomach. It’s not like you just stop being ticklish. Eventually, you realize you need to get up. The last thing you want is to go to bed crusty.

“Come on, I got lucky and I have an attached bathroom,” you say when you get up off the bed. You reach a hand to him and smile when he takes it without question.

It’s quiet again as you help clean each other up. A comfortable kind of quiet. The way it used to be. This is another favorite of yours with him. Aftercare has always been his thing. No matter how rough he is with you in bed, he’s impossibly gentle when he cleans you up. It makes your heart ache a little because you’re so fond. It’s a weird mix of feelings.

“We should sleep in my room tonight,” he says.

“We’re already here,” you point out.

“With sheets that are probably soaked,” he teases back.

“What are the chances we can get to your room without being seen?” you wonder.

He shrugs. “It’s late. Probably better than the chances nobody heard us.”

Your cheeks flush a little. Sure, you definitely tried to be quiet. You’ll have to wait until the morning to see if you succeeded.

“Come on, my room has a door to the outside,” he says.

So, you follow. You put your layers back on and grab something to sleep in. And you don’t actually see anyone before you’re safely tucked away in his room. That night, falling asleep tangled up in Seungcheol, is the best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

Morning comes and brings with it the need for an actual conversation. As you stretch in bed, you appreciate the soreness in your body with a smile. Anything you’re feeling now is surely worth it. That is, until you realize you’re in bed alone. Dread creeps in. Could last night really have meant something different to Seungcheol than it did to you? Did you just make a massive mistake? You’re starting to wonder if you’re only going to break your own heart this time, with nobody else to blame, when the bedroom door opens. Seungcheol steps inside with a thermos and a bag that looks like it might have some of the pastries Wonwoo brought back from the store yesterday.

“You’re awake,” he says with a smile. He sets down the thermos and removes his jacket to hang it up.

“I was worried you’d left,” you admit when he finishes taking off his shoes and sits next to you. His face looks hurt for a second before it settles.

“No, I just went to get coffee and figure out what we were walking into before you got up,” he says.

“And?” you prompt.

He pulls out a pastry and hands it over. “Nayeon asked where I slept last night and if I knew where you were. I don’t think she heard anything, but who knows with her? Wonwoo wasn’t in the main area, so I don’t know. They said they all knew I was following you, though.”

“Guess we can’t really avoid it,” you joke.

You’re expecting him to smile, too. Instead, his face is serious. “Do you want to? Avoid it, I mean.”

It makes you serious. Maybe a little too honest. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, not right away, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says and takes your hands in his. “If you give me another chance, I’m never letting you walk away from me again. I’ll prove that I’m worth everything you give me.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Cheol,” you tell him.

“I realize that now,” he agrees. “I also realize it’s up to you to know what you deserve and what you want. That wasn’t ever my decision to make and I’m really sorry for doing that to you.”

“It hurt, for sure, but not having you around hurts so much worse,” you admit. It’s hard to meet his eyes, even though you know you’re safe.

“It hurts so fucking bad. I hate it. Last year was the worst year of my life,” he says.

“You got a massive promotion, though! Wonwoo told me,” you say.

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m done caring. That promotion didn’t mean shit without you being there to share it with,” he shares with you.

“I guess we’ll have to celebrate it this year,” you say.

His face lights up. “Really?”

“I want to give us another chance. I don’t think either of us are over it,” you acknowledge. “Last night aside, I want to take it slow. I want to take our time instead of rushing in like we did the first time around. I want to get it right this time.”

He nods immediately. “We can go as slow as you want. I mean it. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good, because I don’t think we should wait to see if the third time’s the charm,” you joke.

“I’m glad I came this year,” he says as he grabs the thermos.

“Me too,” you agree.

It’s funny, you think, how someone can feel so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Seungcheol feels like home, like your favorite sweater, or like curling up with a book by the fire in winter. But, he feels entirely new, too. Like maybe you both changed over the past year. Maybe you both grew into the people you needed to be to love each other better. To love each other right. Later, you’ll have to break the bubble and face your friends. Right now, though, you can just appreciate that this silly little cabin trip brought you peace.

this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you liked it 💕

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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

Text

You have a secret

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

| SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | CW death of a loved one, grief, attempted SA, Johnny and reader are going through it |

Glasgow is cold in January.

Hogmanay came and went with the typical rambunctious celebrations, every bar and pub in the city overflowing with patrons that spill out onto the pavement and the streets, properly drunk and stumbling over one another as they make their way to the next bar. Some of your coworkers invited you out for a bar crawl, just as they did last year, but you’d decided going out in the freezing weather and nursing a hangover at work in the morning isn’t worth the trouble. So home you stay, curled up with cheap Tesco sparkling wine and the last book on your reading list for the year, the tv playing a montage of celebrations across the city quietly in the background, and you slink off to bed just as the fireworks settle and the night falls quiet.

The days that follow are quiet too, the first week of the new year creeping along in the hazy in between, that little reset that comes between the holiday season and the yawning winter that looms before you, corporate deadlines and end of fiscal year reports that will start to pile up soon. You enjoy the quiet calm of that in between, try to remember what it feels like to be able to step away from your desk and take a lap around the office to stretch your legs before you’re inundated with so many reports you hardly have time to break away to use the restroom.

Johnny frequents your thoughts more than you'd like to admit as you stroll around the office floor, wondering if he's operating in the same lull as you are, biding his time until his next assignment with dull busywork and monotonous routine. Wondering if he and Isobel had celebrated Hogmanay at home like you had or if maybe he’d taken her to a friends flat with him, one of his team members. Wondered if he let her stay up late with him and counted down the fireworks display together, or if he tucked her into a spare bedroom some hours before, waking her up just in time to see them and take her home to her own bed for the night.

The growing tinge of disappointment hung like storm clouds over your mood when you hadn’t seen much of them in the days leading up to the new year, and you began to think maybe all the smiles, all the double entendres, were just a friendly personality and polite kindness on his part; just a neighbor being neighborly. There was an exchange of phone numbers with the offer to call or text one another if the other ever needed anything after dinner several weeks ago. Hardly an invitation for conversation. Another polite exchange and thanks for your mutual goodwill.

Pretending not to care, to resist the urge to check your phone whenever it vibrates on your desk or in your back pocket, takes more effort than you had expected. It’s not him. Why would it be him? It’s not like he said he would call.

But Johnny has a habit of surprising you.

Snow and lights and festive wreaths don’t hold the same wonderment they used to. They all remind him of her. Remind him how she always insisted on a big family dinner. How she was always the one who invited everyone to their home and always had his favorite scotch on hand to toast with at midnight. The lights remind him of flashing red and blue, screaming sirens that cut through the air like the mournful wail of a banshee. The snow covered roads look too much like the roads did that day, tires slipping and sliding, the tail end of his car nearly spinning him out on the highway in his desperation to get to her.

And the quiet.

The quiet of the world when snow falls and blankets the earth in layers of glittering sorrow makes the silence deafening. Her laughter doesn’t echo Isobels, there are no footsteps mirrored in the snow beside hers, and the tiny angel in the front yard stares up at the clouds where its missing guardian watches over them. It’s hard, for both of them. Isobel doesn't remember the accident, doesn’t remember riding in the ambulance with her mother or the way the security guard and several nurses had to hold Johnny back when she coded. She doesn't remember the tears, the anger, the denial of everything unfolding in front of him, crumbling around him and knocking the air from his lungs, leaving him crumpled on the floor outside her room.

Isobel didn’t see how he sat slumped against the wall with his head between his knees, arms folded over his legs and fingers digging into his skin until the blunt edges of his nails drew blood. She never saw the procession of doctors and nurses that slowly filed out of the room, the only sound in the somber silence the soft tapping of rubber soles on tile. No beeping from monitors, no clicks and whooshes of the ventilator. Heavy, suffocating silence.

The social worker sat with him, let him fall apart right there on the hospital floor, a sympathetic hand resting on his trembling shoulder as he poured his heart out onto the cold, sterile white tile beneath him. When the silence became unbearable, when it started clawing at his skull and slicing into his skin like razor wire, he let her fill it. He listened to her tell him that Isobel is okay–scared, in shock–but alive and breathing. Lets her lead him through more sterile hallways to an office where another social worker does their best to occupy the tiny girl, but the minute Johnny walks through that door she’s all trembling hands and watery eyes, wobbly chin and confused tears.

He does his best not to let her see it, not when the snow is still full of magic and the lights still make her eyes bright with joy, pure and unbridled. But it's hard to hide the grief that dulls his own, the wintery haze that hardens them into icy pools that long for the warmth of summer skies. It’s hard to step outside and breathe the crisp winter air and not feel his throat constrict, feel the warmth seep from his body, replaced with the empty cold of a world without her in it.

Sometimes he can hear little bits of her in the way Isobel laughs, can see the same stubborn crease of her brow when she can’t quite figure something out and refuses to ask for his help. He sees the same light and spark in her eyes, the same mischief that they once shared through the years, and he can't bear to dim that light, to extinguish the joy and happiness that lives there.

It was a quiet holiday for the two of them. No big parties, no dinner and drinks, despite John's invitation. Just Johnny and Isobel, cuddled up together on the couch watching movies and sharing bites of whatever snack or dessert the other brought with them. He thought about texting you, asking if you had plans to go out, or maybe stay in. Isobel came trotting back from the kitchen, one of the cookies the two of you had made together in-hand, and clambered onto his lap, peering at the unsent message to you on his phone screen.

“What’s it say?” She squints her little eyes at the letters, still not quite able to put the words together.

“Nothin’, leannan.” The words disappear from the text field and he tosses his phone aside to settle his arms around her. “Did ye bring one for me?” She shakes her head no but breaks off a chunk and offers it up to him. “Thank ye.” He leans forward to take it from her, takes the bite straight from her hand, and her delighted giggles fill the gaping hole in his chest with comforting warmth.

Cinnamon and pine still lingers in the air, mingled with the scent of paper and ink, with the warm coffee several customers clutch between cold fingers. With boxing day and the holidays behind them, the shops are much less overwhelming at this time of year, most of the aisles in the book store blessedly empty and the silence only occasionally interrupted by the fluttering of pages or soft footsteps on carpeted floors. The perfect atmosphere for strolling between shelves and taking the time to read more than the blurb on the inside cover of a book before adding it to the small collection already cradled in your arms. It’s the perfect, quiet afternoon until it’s not. Until the silence is broken and every hair on the back of your neck is standing at attention.

“Well, lookit you. Pretty little thing, aren’t ya?” The words are clumsily spoken, slurred and hot against your cheek where his breath fans across clammy skin, sour and putrid, reeking of alcohol and god knows what else. He plucks the book from your hands, works hard to focus his eyes as he surveys the cover art and skims through a passage from the middle of the book. You stumble back a step, heels catching on the shelf behind you and nearly sending a few of the more precariously shelved titles tumbling to the ground. He follows, the only space between him and you created by the book in his hands, and you clutch your little stack tighter to your chest, willing hardbacks and delicate pages to become armor. “This isn’t the kinda stuff a little lady should be readin’.” He waves the book in your face, braces a hand on the shelf beside your head when he teeters off balance, and leans far too close, crowds you back against the shelf until the wood digs into your shoulder blades.

A glance at either end of the aisle reveals nothing but empty rows of shelves and not a soul in sight, no one to come to your rescue.

“I-I can read what I want. Please leave me alone, sir.”

“This is pure filth,” he sneers, shoving the book back at you. It lands on the floor at your feet with a fluttering ‘thump’ and the shelving behind you creaks as you try to maintain some distance from him. You wish that the novels at your back would open their covers and draw you in, hide you between the inked words within their pages. “Worse than porn, this is. ‘S not even any good. Why read this shite when you can have the real thing?” His hand dips down to fumble with something beneath his coat and you hear the metal teeth of a zipper unfurling.

You know what’s happening, know what you’ll see if you look down. You know that you should push and shove and yell and scream, but you can’t. Fear and realization settle heavy against your body, fog your mind with a haze so thick your vision turns blurry at the edges, and when you open your mouth to speak the only thing that comes out is a strangled, muted gasp as he presses his full body weight against you, searing heat pressed firm against your stomach and pinning you in place.

Everything feels slow and blurry. Like you're underwater, trying to run across the bottom of the ocean, salt water stinging your eyes. The dread that weighs so heavily on your chest keeps you there, refusing to let you surface, refusing to let you draw more than shallow breaths that feel like lungfuls of water instead.

Something cuts through the depths. A noise. Someone's shouting. Angry. And then that weight on your chest, the weight that pins your body to the shelf, is gone. You still can’t breathe, salt water still blurs your vision, distorts the movement in front of you and leaves you disoriented, unsteady on your own feet. There’s more noise, softer this time.

An employee. She’s asking you something. Asking if you’re ok. You let her guide you, away from the aisle to a back room to sit in a chair and drink water from a paper cup while she calls the police. She stays with you until they get there and while they ask you questions, sits in silent support beside you and refills your water when you need it. The police leave, tell you that if they see the man he’ll be picked up, and the younger woman asks if you want to call someone to get you, to drive you home.

The thought of anyone else seeing you, talking to you, trying to touch you, makes your stomach twist with nausea. So you drive yourself home, empty book bag tossed in the seat beside you, no music to fill the silence. You don’t quite know how you got there, sitting in your car outside your house. Can’t remember making the turn down your street or how long ago you killed the engine.

Long enough for Johnny to take notice, it seems. He’s knocking on the window, calling your name, and it startles you. Drags you up from the quiet depths of your mind and sets your heart racing. Too fast. Too much. The car is too small, the seat belt too tight across your chest, and you need out. He nearly gets hit with the door, dodges heavy metal as it swings open suddenly, and his brows slope together in concern when he sees your shaking hands, sees the way you won’t look at his face.

“Wa’s wrong, bonnie? Wha’ hap-” You shove the door closed behind you, brush him off and skitter around him, won’t come within more than a few meters of him, and he calls after you as you climb the stairs to your door, hurriedly fitting the key in the lock. “Have I done-”

You don't hear the rest of his sentence, and Johnny is left dumbstruck at the bottom of the steps, the slam of your front door and the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place ringing in his ears like he’s stood too close to a grenade.

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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lvrhughes · 4 months

Text

You Are In Love | Q. Hughes

1989 tv masterlist

pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none?

summary: You and Quinn fall in love, and he realizes.

not my gif!

“Quinn!” His entrance had been welcomed quickly by the team, fellow cheers of ‘Captain’ and ‘Cap’ filled the space. His team surrounds his entrance, pushing you to the back of the crowd.

The lights in the room had been dimmed over the night, most of the light emitting from the TV playing whatever show Nils had picked. His eyes caught yours, seeing the way they lit up as he saw you. One look meant for you.

The night went too fast, missing the large crowd of rowdy Nhl players quickly as the number lessened. Nearly half the team had left before you even got the chance to get close to Quinn, three players passed out on the couch as you cut through Brock’s living room to reach.

“Hi Quinny.” Your voice was soft, walking into his open arms.

“Hi baby.” He returned, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. Baby. He had always called you that, no one knew why, no one cared enough to find out.

“I’m going, thought I’d say goodnight.” You mumbled, arms around his torso while his rested around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, baby, see you tomorrow?”

“Coffee at midnight?” The offer stood unanswered for a second before he nodded, a smile on his lips at the thought.

“Baby, baby wake up.” Quinn’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, peppering your face in kisses between his words.

“What?” Your voice was rough, filled with confusion, as you stared back at Quinn.

“It’s midnight coffee time.” He urged, his arms reaching around you to pull you up, pressing you against his chest.

“It’s midnight? I fell asleep, oh no.” The sadness that covered your face at the thought that you weren’t waiting and ready for Quinn broke him, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Baby it’s okay, you’re up now and we’ll go.”

You nodded at his words, stretching your arms before getting up, moving from your spot on your couch while Quinn followed. Slipping your shoes on before grabbing your keys, letting Quinn lead the way out to his car before you slid into the passenger seat.

“You want aux?” The question was almost rhetorical, you always took aux, simply nodding at him before taking it.

Your music playing, allowing the two of you to sing along quietly, often interrupted with small talk. He drives slow, carefully, his eyes drifting from the road every so often to caught a glimpse of you.

The 24 hour diner was your favorite place, Quinn having introduced you to it when he first moved to Vancouver, showing up at your place once offering midnight coffee, which would soon become a tradition.

The light reflected on the chain you wore, shining onto the roof of the diner in gorgeous patterns, catching Quinn’s attention. His view left his coffee, staring at the roof now while you stirred yours.

“Look up.” He urged, making you look up to see the patterns.

“It’s so amazing, something so little can make something so big and pretty.” Your voice was quiet simply admiring the dancing shapes, Quinn’s gaze drifting to you instead now.

The ride home was quiet, drifting in and out of sleep in Quinn’s passenger seat, him making the choice to take you to his instead. Carefully carrying you in, placing you on his bed before you woke.

“Quinny? I can’t sleep in this.” Your voice was filled with sleep, his heart melting at the sound.

“Here, put these on baby.” He encouraged, placing one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts you had left once in front of you. “I’ll be waiting outside, call me in when you’re done.”

You were quick to change, discarding your current clothes in a corner of his room before curling back into his bed, calling out for him.

“Well don’t you look comfy?” He joked, climbing into his spot beside you, letting your curl into him.

“Shit.” Quinn’s cursing was heard from the bedroom, making you giggle as you woke, smelling the cause of his fit.

The burnt toast that lay on the counter, Quinn’s messy handwritten note beside saying he was running out to get breakfast, leaving you to return into your clothes from before yet keeping his shirt.

The view of him walking back catching your attention, running out to the sidewalk to greet him, wrapping your arms around him quickly. The quickly movements leaving him to barely grasp the food, almost dropping it before catching it again, your body shaking with laughter as you saw.

“Smooth Quinn. You giggled, watching him roll his eyes.

“I wouldn't have almost dropped them if you didn’t run into me!” he argued, his eyes gleaming proving his false anger.

His movements were so fast you barely knew what was happening as his lips met with yours, melting into his as he dropped the food to the sidewalk. His arms wrapping your waist, your hands trailing through his hair.

“We should go in.” The words were muffled against your lips, his fingers rubbing circles on your hips as he spoke, pressing against your lips after.

“Mhm.” nodding, pulling away from his kiss for him to chase, his hands pulling you close again.

“Quinn!” The shout of his name coursed through laughter, seeing the smile raise on his face.

“Fine, fine, we’ll go.” He spoke, reaching for the food that laid on the ground before taking your hand to drag you inside.

“Quinn you know I can’t.” the sigh that came out urging Quinn to roll his eyes, shaking his head.

“I knew you’d say that, I just need you and you can’t.”

“Quinn-”

“No, I’m leaving.”

“Don’t leave.” His movements halted, his body that had been turned towards the door, carrying his bag to leave with, stopped. The tears the covered your waterline threatened to spill over, the sight alone when Quin turned was enough to drop him to his knees.

His knees hit the ground before he knew what he was doing, your body following in suite to sit with him, wrapped in his arms.

“I’m so sorry Baby, it’s stupid I was overreacting.” The words flowed from his mouth without stop, his constant apologies slipping into your hair as he pressed his face into the top of your head.

“Quinny it’s okay.”

His rambles continued, the various attempts to stop his speech failing. Pressing a kiss to his lips instead, his words dying as he melted into the kiss.

“Let’s go to bed now.” You encouraged, threading your hands through his hair once more before moving. He followed quickly, his bag discarded by the door while he followed you to his bedroom.

His body was quick to follow yours falling into the bed, pulling you into his arms in an instant. Peppering kisses along your face as you giggled, the smile on his face only growing as you leaned in to kiss him.

Sleep overcame you both in minutes, Quinn holding you against him throughout the night. It wasn’t until three am when Quinn woke, his movements waking you.

A strange look on his face, his grip reaching out for you again, holding you against him still. He paused, staring at you.

“You’re my best friend.”

You know what it was, he is in love.

You can hear it in the silence.

You can feel it on the way home.

You can see it with the light out.

You are in love.

#mads writings!#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks imagine

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Series Masterlist - Break Me Down

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s gonna be a long road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: **Rated M. (18+ only.) Enemies to frenemies to lovers. Angsty, messy, moral quandaries galore. This is a romance, but it’s a dark world with morally gray and dark characters, including Soldier Boy, of course. **Smut, language, misogyny, violence, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The BMD Playlist

Chapters:

Prologue

Part 1 - The Game Begins

Part 2 - You Move Me, Baby

Part 3 - Somewhere Down Below

Part 4 - On the Inside Out

Part 5 - Morning, Night & Day

Part 6 - A Hot Meal

Part 7 - Until Midnight

Part 8 - Something in the Way

Part 9 - Breach

Part 10 - Caught in the Balance

Part 11 - The Lion's Den

Part 12 - All Your Wicked Ways

Part 13 - A Generous Deal

Part 14 - Safe House

Part 15 - The Tower

Part 16 - Soldier Boy

Part 17 - More Than Words Can Say

Epilogue - All My Living Time

Series Complete!

Did you like this series? If you'd like to keep supporting me as I continue the BMD-verse, here's a way to keep me caffeinated:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Read More In the BMD-Verse

Not done reading this version of Soldier Boy x Reader? Well, there's more to their story.

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut)

One-Shots:

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Love Actually** Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 - Complete

Wake Me Up** [MINI SERIES] A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Series in Progress!

Strong As Blood** After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

Green** Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

Imagines:

Getting jealous.** 💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game.

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you.

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a “twist” ending…

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to “Ben loses you.”]

Moodboard below created by @chernayawidow:

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #the boys amazon #private investigator!reader #checkerboard prequel #dark romance #break me down #break me down masterlist #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #soldier boy fanfiction #the boy au #enemies to lovers #romance #zepskies writes

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essenceofelegance · 2 months

Text

new year’s day

Luke Castellan x aphrodite!reader

m.list

warnings: angst </3

There's glitter on the floor after the party,

He’s giving her that smile.

The one reserved for you.

The one you adored so, so much.

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby

Luke took her hand in his larger one, leading her back to her cabin.

He laughed at something she said.

You directly your attention back to cleaning up the Aphrodite cabin after a party, alone.

Luke used to do it with you.

Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before, but

While you were cleaning you own bed, you found a polaroid picture of you and Luke from a year ago, probably.

You were wearing a pink, feathered cowboy hat, you were leaning into the camera, a bright smile on your face.

Luke’s hands were on your waist, he had a pink fur boa around him to match your hat.

You would give anything to have him hold you just one more time.

Don't read the last page But I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared, and you're turning away

Of course he would like an Athena girl.

They’re smart, they can fight, and they’re pretty.

Sure, she doesn’t have that radiant glow around her like you did, but she was still pretty.

She had h/c hair, like you did.

She also had e/c eyes.

But her’s… looked so much better than yours. It glowed.

She looked better, she could fight better, she was actually smart.

Your siblings reassured you, insisting that you were a daughter of Aphrodite, there was no way she was prettier than you.

But that wasn’t the way you saw it.

And in your eyes, that wasn’t the way Luke saw it either.

I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

You were teaching your usual archery lessons, when you spot Luke and his new girlfriend in a sparring match.

He looks happy.

Only, a different kind of happy.

Sure, you were good with a dagger, but not sword fighting. You were never good at sword fighting, you were only good at archery.

Maybe Luke wanted something who appreciated the things he liked to do.

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

"It's not you, it never was, its just that I feel like we don’t get each other anymore." Luke said.

"Yeah, I get it." you looked down to hide your unshed tears.

"Thanks for... everything," you gave him a forced smile.

“You were great. You were a great experience,” Luke said, as if to comfort you.

‘You were everything!’ you wanted to scream at him.

But you just smiled and walked away.

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

You watched as Luke celebrated his capture the flag victory with his new girlfriend.

You weren’t jealous,

you just felt replaced.

How could he replace you so easily when you felt like your heart would be empty for years?

Did you really mean that little to him?

You couldn’t bear watching them anymore.

Don't read the last page But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong, or we're making mistakes

A total of 17 guys sent you flowers.

If you were a logical person, you would have at least hooked up with them, but little old you decided that you should wait for Luke.

So, you rejected every single guy that came up to you.

All your siblings are just straight up worried about you now, they knew how important Luke was to you, but not to this degree.

You still cry yourself to sleep every night,

they find you in the middle of the night going through a photo book of you and Luke.

I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

Hold on to the memories They will hold on to you

You still wear the matching bracelet he gave you for your second anniversary.

He’s wearing a new one with his girlfriend.

You see them connecting their magnetic heart charm on their bracelet at campfires, while you’re here playing with yours that no longer had a match.

Hold on to the memories They will hold on to you

You still have his favourite hoodie under your bed.

You still have his favourite shirt under your bed.

You still have one of his camp t-shirts on your bed.

He caught you wearing his hoodie on you way to the bathroom in the middle of the night when you bumped into him.

He never questioned you or asked for it back.

Hold on to the memories They will hold on to you

You still have everything he gave you.

And I will hold on to you.

Everything reminds you of him.

That one bench where the two of you used to hang out on everyday,

ever your own bed, where he used to sneak in to talk to you at night.

Please don't ever become a stranger Whose laugh I could recognise anywhere

You hate it when she makes him laugh.

You hate it when you hear that damn laugh.

You hate it because it didn’t happen because of you.

Please don't ever become a stranger Whose laugh I could recognise anywhere

You hate him because he’s not yours.

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby

It’s been a couple of months.

You still wear his hoodie to sleep.

liked this? or want something better? City of Stars is much more heartbreaking </3

author: yay

⋆

Please do not re-upload my work on any platforms without permission.

Any reblogs, comments, likes, shares, and follows are appreciated.

#pjo fic #pjo fanfic #pjo characters #pjo luke #pjo series #pjo #percy jackson show #percy jackson #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #taylor swift

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mvniro · 5 months

Text

. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 SPREAD YOUR WINGS TO TAKE POSSESSION OF WHAT'S YOUR'S ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic.❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . holy shit i need to make an actual smut comeback. :/ @averagebsdenjoyer give your kids now.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; politician!fyodor, fem!reader, escort!reader, exstripper!reader, nsfw, boob biting, breast fucking, angst in some way and yeah that all i remember.

sin and lust ran around as they swirled with the wind, settled on top of the preety drinks and flowed inside the mouth of the one drinking, settling on their conscience before pulling out their courage to do what one wouldn't do normally and when the courage blindly took over and buried every emotion within, sin and lust giggled.

"here is your drink," you look over your shoulder to look at the bartender handling a customer their large glass of vodka, but before the customer could feel your eyes on them, you look back towards the dance floor again to continue observing the many intoxicated and sober bodies dancing, gridning against each other and doing lord knows what for the gobo lights above aren't really helping to look at each person and where their hands are.

you pull the silk robe closer to your body to make sure it is covering atleast till your midthighs as below them the eyes of those curious could only see your fishnet stockings and heels, kicking your legs as you hum for your customer to be here, but when you glanced at your phone screen a minute ago, you were waved at by disappointment of knowing the time and that he won't be here before half an hour, at his usual time.

being punctual is his style after all, the thought makes you smile which soon disappears when you feel perverted eyes of those around you trying to check you out and to find faults in your tied around robe to catch a glimpse of your skin which is meant to be reserved only for the man who can rival the greatest genius and defeat him pathetically.

you stand up from the stool with a small frown tugging at your lips, taking your phone from the black counter before you saunter away and on your way through the sidelines to avoid bumping into the slaves of lust and sin, your hand felt the tickling feeling as your phone vibrated and it felt the same when the man you are waiting for talks to you and you feel the same ticklish feeling in your stomach that your hand had the chance to experience right now.

tilting your head down to glance at the screen which illuminated to bring you hope and excitement, you read over the message quickly and cautiously yet it would've been fine even if you didn't since it seems as if you have it memorized like a prayer. the message which informed you of the arrival of the man in a few minutes.

you quickly turned on your heels to walk towards the bar again and when the dirt of perverted gazes tried to fall on your body, the shield of reassurance protected you from it. reassurance in the sense that the man who practically has ownership in a sense over you will be here quite soon, your hands work like those of a skilled craftsman as you put a bottle of dom perignon champagne in a bucket filled with ice while grabbing a white wine glass with the other hand before you make your way upstairs using the elevator permitted for staff and vip's only.

the bucket is heavy and hence why you placed it on the floor as soon as the elevator doors closed with you inside it, you turned to look and examine your reflection in the mirror behind to deem yourself ready to meet him. your leg bounced to excrete some ounces of excitement and anticipation out of your body.

as the elevator door opens to lead you into the world of lewd luxury, the stars from through the glassed walls twinkle in the sky but the moon pays them no heed and rather gazed down at the group of black cars driving on the empty roads for who else if not the rare percentage would drive on the streets at midnight, not those with tiring routines and families and not those with sorrows and despair but those who rules the night, the twinkling of the stars being the same as the shine of the silver ring on the svelte finger of the one who sat in the middle car.

the black coating of the car pays their respect to the sheet of black spreading over the night sky as if informing the sky that they aren't the rulers of night but the svelte man sitting in one of those five automobiles is, the same man due to whom your heart began to practice gymnastics and is now performing the flips etc., your futile attempts to calm your excited heart had only made your task of scanning your card on the door to unlock it difficult.

your foot took the lead by nudging the door to open after which you stepped in and immediately took off your heels, you closed the door behind you by nudging it against the door. the moment you place your feet on the soft red carpet, a gasp almost too inaudible had left your lips for the sensation traveled through the soles of your feet to your arms.

you had cleaned the table, the mirror to make sure it remains free of stains, lipstick marks and scratches for the man you serve had his face shaped by god himself who made sure to make the angels look at him in admiration of him and his creation and so, is it not appropriate to serve the perfect man (in your eyes) with the same perfection he always wears on his body?

your hands glided over the leather purple couch to smooth it of its roughness if there is any present as the staff before you made sure to deem this room appropriate for you, the maiden, and now you are doing the same for the swan you stumbled upon once but what made the swan stand out was it wasn't the traditional white one but a black one. yet it served grace as generously, if not more, as the white swan.

you are the ballerina with the way your feet glided across the room from one corner to other as you made sure to scan and evict any little flaw you find in it and after a few minutes when the room was utterly begging for the man it got ready for to grace it with his presence though the room had the wind flowing through the opened window as it's comfort when you began to wear your heels again, the see through white curtains covering the opened windows flowed inwards a bit to distract the room from its temporary dolour when your hands held the edge of the door to pull it with you to close the door as you left.

your phone screen illuminated with brightness of euphoria and as the light fell on your skin, you found your heart get more excited for perhaps your phone's brightness falling on your face in the dim hallway had transferred its euphoria inside you and maybe this theory could be taken to explain why you felt a sudden desperation to reach the entrance as soon as possible to be the first one on whom his eyes fall upon.

and so, in this state of frantic joy, you opted for the stairs instead, skipping one at a time as you quickly skipped downwards with only one goal in your mind ; to reach the bottom of the staircase to make your heart be even more frantic in anticipation and as soon as you skipped over the last step, you did not continue your journey forwards towards the main entrance which is usually where the entry is permitted from but the man we are talking about is not a ordinary man.

status wise, intelligence wise and lookwise -- even adonis would feel green in envy and feel the nimble hands of insecurities seduce him when he gazes into those purple pools of hypnosis which are far more powerful then any spell or magical orbs.

but what does he not know that you do? what makes your head raise high in pride of knowing the secret that not even adonis knows about the man he would surely envy?

the not so ordinary man became one after trials and errors and practices and more practices till he become one with the soul of a mad artist who painted with his fingers and when he saw the absence of red on his palette, he was driven to stab his finger and use his own blood as paint, the not so ordinary man who entered every time from a different route and it made you question how he knows more about this place then you, someone whose nights and evenings pass here, does.

so to explain why you were going towards the back doors can be explained with the childish desire to catch him off guard, impress him by being one step ahead of him which happens once in a blue moon and maybe this is why he always played the part of the passionate charecter who loved his passion even after said passion wounded him and left him unable to walk into the same field again.

you are said passion and you hurt him by making it hard for other women to be on the same caliber as you, to be as pretty as you in his eyes and to make him crave the time of the day to spend with them the way he does with you.

your hands find themselves seeking comfort by pinching on your forearm as you stand patiently infront of the two big doors with bulky men on either side who greet the celebrities and other important and rich figures who can not enter through the front entrance but when minutes pass by with the ticking of the clock, your mind scrambles to pinpoint a reason for his absence after his appointed time had passed and after the most excruciating five minutes of standing in the middle of the stage of loneliness and being guided across it by your rationality, your phone beeps and you do not even need to tilt your head down to look at it to know what it says, the announcement of the victory of the man once again.

it is when you turned around that you were approached by his guard who bowed, handed you a shopping bag of an expensive brand and left as if he had been performing an act with the way his movements were precise, not an ounce of confusion in his movements but you were the opposite.

perplexity told you to tilt your head down to examine the bag on whose handle was a shining ring attached with a paper, you made your way towards the elevator while wearing the ring in your ring finger for the presence of the diamond wasn't your source of confusion as the man had told you last night of his desire to give you the ultimate gift, his proof of his possession over you and with the way the lights of the elevator made the ring glimmer, the man clearly didn't care enough to take your refusal of being gifted such an expensive ring, into consideration.

the paper which you handled with perfect fragility made you wonder how he never felt worry and burden when handling and treating you for with every movement of your finger, your fear of ruining the paper only grew but when it finally opened to show you what was written in it, your worries and fears left and were instead replaced by the strong adoration which dangerously sat close to your rationality.

in the paper, were simple but firm words which left no room for confusion with the way they were so clear, the words read ; 'do not open the bag until an hour before i return tomorrow and if you do, it would be disappointing for me to know how my angel went against me. be good like you always were, for me and only for me always, angel.'

the elevator doors opened but you didn't step out, expectations of the man who is the expectation of god himself, rested its hand on your shoulders and flicked at your heart before it pushed you forwards slightly to make you step out and you did, blinking, you placed the paper inside the bag without looking down at what it contained.

your heart thumped, blood rushed through your veins and your hand fixed for any imperfections varying from any possible ruffles in your silk robe to any stray strand of hair that could've gone out of place during your entire journey to the entrance and back upstairs again.

you stopped, closed your eyes to be in peace for a short moment while you take a deep breath before opening your eyes again and unlocking the door using your card.

"the man of great promises has wowed the crowd again with his extreme ethics and mannerisms and with the results of today's conference, it is safe to assume that fyodor dostoyevsky and his party will be the one thriving on top in the upcoming elections next year, what do you think? --"

the voice of the television was lowered using the remote when the man heard the door open and he immediately looked at who entered not because he wanted to know who entered, he already did, but because his purple irises were dying to catch a glimpse of you.

"mr.dostoyevsky," your voice always sounded so soft and tempting whenever it pronounced his name, you were born to call his name, weren't you? you closed the door behind you as you approach him.

and there is he who killed his former self to be this being of perfection, killed his flaws to paint over them with the pride of being perceived as flawless instead and the man whose grace is in his smile and the pigment of his irises.

the sight of the man sitting with one leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the armrest of the couch on which his cheek rested as he silently checked you out, always made you acknowledge your pussy clenching around nothing but tonight there is no room for mistakes and for imperfections for if its your last night serving the man, you want it to be perfect and leave an imprint on his heart so strong that no one else can recreate this scene and this night.

the stakes has never been higher, it's everything on the line tonight. it's the promise to yourself to show this man that no one can compare to you as well like how none can compare to him but he knew that, ever since your second night of serving him. he has known and lived with the fact since then.

"my angel." voice flowed like the waves of an ocean, peaceful yet powerful. and did it make you the fish swaying with the waves as you took the bottle of dom perignon and the white wine glass before approaching him? maybe it did but perhaps you are the leaf blowing with the wind which is fyodor. always so ready to flow in whichever direction he leads you to.

the man ruling your heart and thoughts wore a black turtle neck tucked in black pants and a white jacket over it which was falling on his elbows now, the purple lights falling onto his face gave him the crown to make the mortals of imperfections to fawn over his greatness. he raised his hand before bending his index finger to beckon you over, running a hand through his hair as he saw you slowly saunter towards him like a tiger walking towards the unsuspecting swan only for the swan to fly away.

fyodor sat straight before spreading his legs apart and you took your seat on the carpeted floor, between his legs as you opened the bottle and poured him his favorite drink into the glass before you raised yourself on your knees and gently brought the glass near his lips.

none made the effort to talk for this fleeting silence should be felt in every pore before the beginning of the night which both look forwards to.

a gulp containing your deepest desires was pushed down your throat when fyodor parted his lips and wrapped his hand around your's, tilting the glass to allow the liquid to flow into his mouth, does he not know how his simple action is affecting you?

he does or else he wouldn't had pushed the glass towards your lips, "drink, you like it, don't you?"

and who are you to refuse him who is staring down at you with a glint of gentleness you are so depraved of?

parting your lips with the intention of allowing him to pour the drink into your mouth was intrupted by the light shining and reflecting the diamond of the ring on his ring finger, the design not varying much if compared to your's and this intruption resulted in you raising your other hand to stop his hand from tilting the glass towards your mouth, your hand felt unfortunately like a succor in times like this, nights lights this where your heart became one with the gnawing defeatist in the back of your mind.

"excuse my sharp tongue but have you no shame, mr.dostoyevsky?" what began with a saccharine tone is the sentence whose meaning and purpose is mockery to soothe the wound in your own heart by craving shallow ones in his own.

"you are to be married tomorrow yet you gift me a ring? is the politics you are such a master of, being pulled in your real life as well? what do you attempt to prove by wearing a ring similar to this one?" you tilt your head in a silent jeering way but had he been the one to allow someone else to have the upper hand on him?

no, absolutely not. for fyodor dostoyevsky doesn't work that way. he doesn't work according to others but makes a plan so impeccable that nature bends itself to work according to him.

the hand of the black swan got a hold of your jaw which he tilted upwards before pouring the drink into your mouth and you wonder if politicians have mastered the act of pretense more then actors or why would his eyes hold adoration for a man of his caliber and especially for someone like you?

"what is shame after all angel? we are all born shameless, are we not?" the spokesperson of his party began but not in a tone of smartness and respect but in one which loosely hangs around the thin line of adoration in the form of a coo and amusement in the form of a playful smile.

"we develop shame, do we not?" you retort though your resolve isn't worthy of being called one for the way your irises followed fyodor's thumb which caressed your bottom lip.

"i am shameless then i suppose? but what's so wrong in being shameless for an angel like you? you, my cruel beauty, makes me feel as if i am drunk. one look at you and the world is blurry for me. i am the politician but you are my greed." words weren't words.

voice of a siren, the face of a swan but the determination of the devil. sumptuous and unreal, he is the greatest creation of god and the greatest envy to mankind. for fyodor is simply the miracle which can never occur again.

the words leaving his lips wrapped around your body and stopped you from looking away from him. the politician and his greed.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder till the beholder is the beauty.

the black swan is the black swan till you catch a glimpse of the tiny white spot on the back of his wings and then you start to wonder of who he was before being this man who wore perfection like his second skin and this curiosity makes fyodor weak in his knees.

to be desired is one thing. to be wanting to see him in his rawest form is another.

"stop flattering me mr.dostoyevsky. tell me what can i do to make your last night with me unforgettable." you smile up at him before you felt fyodor's hand slip down towards your throat before he gripped it, gently for he never treated the greed he chased after wrongly, before pulling you towards him as your hands fell on his thighs to offer some stabilization to yourself.

"last night? indeed i am one with politics for one lone reason. do you want to know what it is?" he asked, kissing the tip of his index finger before he placed it against your painted lips.

"yes mr.dostoyevsky." you breath out before parting your lips to take his finger in your mouth, swiring your tongue around its length and imagining it to be his dick. fyodor smirked, eyes narrowing in amusement.

"because no one knows what i know. they know and believe what i want them to, including you." fyodor shuts his eyes close as he groans lowly, the way your inner cheeks could be felt by every inch of his finger when you sucked on it made blood rush to his cock.

"uh huh. won't ya be a doll and tell me about it mr.dostoyevsky?" you blink, looking up at him through under your lashes and due to his finger in your mouth, your voice and words come out muffled and lord, oh lord, is this making fyodor go crazy.

"doll? am i your doll angel?" fyodor smiled down at you as he took his finger out to let you talk, lithe hands now working to untie the knot on your robe.

"i only had one doll in my life and even that was stolen by a bully. so to call you doll is to make it clear to myself that you, --" you stop to gulp as the robe is gently pulled off your shoulder and you remain in your violet lingere set.

"go on angel." fyodor whispered in mocking encouragement as if he didn't know the effect his fingers kneading into your shoulders is having on you.

" -- though you never actually belonged to me, would be taken away from me as well." you complete your words bitterly but it is soon forgotten when fyodor takes one of your hands to place it on top of his hardened cock.

"don't belong to you? angel no one could make me hard unless its you." he rasped out, closing his eyes as you caressed his clothed dick with your fingers while you looked up to drink in his reaction.

"don't marry tomorrow then mr.dostoyevsky, please? i would hate to see you returning as someone else's man and i would hate it even more to be assigned to someone else." you tell, eyes softening as you admit your feelings to him who looked down at you before grasping your jaw and caressing the curve.

"you trust me, don't you, angel?" he asked and for a moment, fyodor's eyes fell on the tv screen which showed his conference from today morning in which he is seen walking up the stage as his black suit made him look posh and handsome.

"what if i didn't mr.dostoyevsky?" you try not to smile by biting your inner cheek for the man above you has the ability to turn your anger towards him into vapor but you calling his name grabbed fyodor's attention as he looked down at you again and when he smiled, you were reminded why you felt so bitter the entire day, why you wanted to rush down to be the first one to greet him and why you jeered at him just now ; the gentle and seductive smile and those nonchalant eyes as if no one could touch him is what made you freeze the first time as you stared at him before realizing that the man you were serving for all these nights is the one you fell for.

"that's a pity but i still want you to have some faith in me, to trust me and sign a few papers. can my angel do that for me?"

'my angel' is a term which made you go weak in the knees, your heart fluttered as it poked fun at your brain and proudly exclaimed its victory and you melted, nodding.

for you weren't 'his angel' if you didn't have blind faith in him and his action and if you didn't think of him to be greater then the seven wonders of the world.

bitterness was taken over by love and admiration. jealousy was over thrown by lust and a need of praises.

"let me pleasure you, mr.dostoyevsky. you worked so hard today, looked so preety today." your hand traced his belt before you begin to unbuckle it and fyodor gave you all the freedom you required by spreading his legs as his arms went around the back of the couch he is seated on.

"i looked preety?" fyodor asked in amusement as he looked down at you with one eyebrow cocked, his stomach felt like it was in the middle of a hurricane of butterflies when you pulled his zipper down after allowing his cock free from the shackles of the belt.

"the prettiest and smartest." you smile, trying not to chuckle as you look up at him, you couldn't focus on anything else when fyodor leaned down towards you, head tilted.

"are you talking about yourself angel?" fyodor teased, to hide the pale pink flush on his cheeks by flicking your cheek with his finger and it was your turn to be hugged and have shyness to cling to you.

instinctly, you felt your body leaning the tiniest bit forwards to feel more of his touch on your skin.

"i was talking about you mr.dostoyevsky." you mumble, looking at him who playfully widened his eyes before his eyes looked down at your clevage and then back at your eyes.

eyes who saw too much desire of others towards him were now filled with it themselves as he let his eyes linger onto your lips and wonder how would it feel to kiss you. then as if your clevage asked for attention, a imaginary force tapped fyodor and reminded him about your breasts which he glanced down at and the next movement of his hand tapping at the strip of your bra had you gulping.

"take it off for me, angel?" fyodor's voice is low, soft yet it isn't nervous in the slightest. he knows what he is asking for and he knows what your answer will be.

"why should i?" you raise your eyebrows at the man who snickered before his supple fingers took the leadership by hooking itself under your bra strap and pulling it before letting it smack against your skin.

soft gasp gave rise to titillation to transform into utter and raw intoxication. the soft pout on your lip as you looked up at fyodor made him realise the growing frustration of his hardened dick.

"because i am asking so, angel, do you really even need another reason?" he breathed out, leaning down to twirl a strand of your hair on his finger as his eyes refused to look away from your face.

"mr.dostoyevsky." you nearly mewl, why is this one man and his stare playing with the chord of your heart and giving arousal freedom to imagine whatever it wants to?

black, black swan who is tainting the white swan, why do you feel satisfied and not grief?

does it not satisfy you to see the white swan at your feet every night that you try to reach feats no one else could? for no one could do what fyodor dostoyevsky can to sum it up in brief.

"hm?" fyodor hummed before he smiled upon watching you clumsily fumble with your bra to remove it but the hard and hungry stare of the man is proving the task to be more difficult then what it originally is.

"please tell me how i can pleasure you." you did not need to tell twice for once the words left the cage that is your mouth, they were free and rioting in the form of being chanted multiple times in the back of fyodor's mind.

"oh shit, how can i marry someone else when this is all your doing?" fyodor pulls his dick out, lifting his hips to remove his pants till they are left hanging on his knees and his words were only being understood now when your eyes were staring straight at the hardened and angry dick dripping with precum.

"you say this but aren't you marrying someone else tomorrow?" you bite your lip in sudden pleasure when fyodor leaned forwards to pinch your nipple between his cold index finger and thumb.

"i am marrying tomorrow, yes." only giving a glimpse of itself, the black swan teases the nature and fyodor teases you with his vague answers -- they aren't vague to the normal ear but you who saw the reminants of the white swan within him loves to observe him the same way a marine biologist studies the biology within. it may kill you but lord, do you care when the addiction of figuring something in him out is the greatest satisfaction of them all.

"i've served married men before but you were someone i wished would always remain a bachelor, i am being unprofessional --"

"absolutely not." fyodor intrupted you as he tilted your head up to stare at him with his index finger on your chin before he told the declaration of lust within you and within him to begin taking over, "i love you showing possession over me. go on angel, let everyone passing by know who it is that can get me so worked up."

slender fingers traced the outline of your underboob, "gotta show everyone why you are my favorite, no? you are the only woman who ever touched me and you dare get upset with me?"

he playfully scoffed before fondling with your boob while your hands slithered up like wines to grab his cock which you pumped a few times -- all the while his eyes stayed on you and your's on him.

"mr.dostoyevsky, flattering will get you no where." you smiled, teasing the man who always left you a breathless mess and your toes curled when fyodor leaned down to lick below your lip before he planted a soft kiss. he always did it, kissing dangerously close to your lips but never your lips for the man did not want to have intercourse before marriage and this is what got you especially riled up. you were the one covered in his cum, tasted his cum, the first woman who gave him a blowjob and what not but you won't be the first woman to kiss him. ironic.

"and actions will?" fyodor smirked before tapping your other, neglected boob and you took the cue, your hand abandoned his cock to hold your boobs and push them to give him the invitation.

fyodor placed his dick between the valley of your boobs which would soon be experiencing the ending of the drought.

"actions will." you confirm though if compared to him, your voice is breathless and as you push your boobs together to trap his dick between your flesh, he too, felt the same hand of desire pulling the breath out of his throat harshly.

you began to move up and down as your hands made sure to hold your boobs close in a way that squeezes his dick between them and try to imitate the way it would probably feel to have your walls clamping around him and the pleasure builded up slowly. fyodor groaned and ran a hand through his hair before he gripped the roots and tilted his head back.

a shaky hissed left his lip when you brought your face down to kiss his sensitive tip before you licked it.

fyodor's eyes remained screwed shut as he brought his hand forwards to wrap it around the base of his cock and pump it to stimulate even more pleasure.

your eyes widened and lips parted, staring up in admiration and adoration at the man whose hair fell and sticked to his forehead, eyes may have remained closed but the parted lips of his which gave way to the hisses and grunts of pleasure was the main attraction anyway.

you then looked down to see the tip of his dick disappear between where your boobs met before appearing again and the cycle repeated, the sight of eroticism making you clench your own thighs and move up and down slightly to feel the fabric of your panties press up against your aching cunt.

fyodor opened his eyes, his pace increased and with the other hand, he traced shapes on your collarbone before grabbing your shoulder in a strong grip as he gasped softly, ropes of cum shooting out and painting the canvas of your skin, the cum trailed down your boob before nestling against your nipple.

black swan, oh, black swan, falling victim to your desires?

he is.

how does it feel to be caressed by the very same emotions you once tried to kill within you, oh, black swan, the lover.

fyodor's fingers wrapped around your wrist before he pulled you up into his lap, mouth immediately attacking your nipple as he sucked on it, nibbled and only got more encouraged when you whined out, your hand couldn't stop itself from following the demand of your heart which told it clearly to grab his hair in a gentle grip, the action had fyodor humming in approval.

the other hand played with the cum dripping down your chest before you swiped some of it with your finger to put it in your mouth and suck it, looking at fyodor with faux innocence and the sight of the man gulping made you lick your lips.

white swan, oh, white swan, seducing the black swan is your job not your life purpose yet why do you work so hard as if it's your only purpose?

black swan, be flawless and love her and let the white swan be possessive over you.

and white swan, be the one to look past this fake flawless-ness and watch the otherworldly being submit to his humanity.

fyodor's teeth sinked down on your flesh not hard enough to cause a serious or painful injury but just hard enough to imprint his teeth mark on your boob, which he licked afterwards in a cheap apology to soothe the pain. but nothing about the man himself is cheap so even if his attempt is considered as cheap, the emotions it sturred inside you were rich in every way.

fyodor then leaned back, his fingers spread the cum on your chest before he scooped some up on the tip of his index finger and brought it up to your lips which you parted to let him push his finger into it, resting it just above your wet appendage and pressing down a bit as his eyes got serious to lead to the beginning of the momentous event.

"before anything else, let me tell you what to expect tomorrow. it'll surely be a eventful day, no?" fyodor's amused smile was met with your eyes being blinked once due to the obstruction in the form of his slender finger inside your mouth but before he continued further, it is absolutely important to know why he sticked his finger into your mouth.

the black swan spreads it's wing to charm the white swan, to enthrall it before it brought its magnificent show to an end. the reason for this boastful action was to gather the utmost attention of preety white swan.

"you won't need to do much, angel. just make a decision tomorrow. there will be two documents and it's all on you to either sign it or not." and he finally pulled his finger out when your eyes pleaded him to let you speak.

"will you come tomorrow, mr.dostoyevsky?" your voice came out raspy, breathless and it cracked, not due to sadness but due to the numbing effect his fingers pressing down on your tongue had on you.

"do you want me to?" he pushed himself to be a bit near you while he removed his jacket and placed it over your shoulder, expertly avoiding having the cloth collide with his cum still dripping down your collarbones and chest.

"i do." you confirm to let the man raise his eyebrows cockily but the sight doesn't annoy nor humiliate you but makes your heart swell in adoration, your eyes falling on your bare shoulders which were now covered with his jacket.

and what pain is plucking it's own feathers when the white swan looks so good with your feathers around its head like a crown, oh black swan? the satisfaction is greater then the pain for you, no?

"wear this. my heart is your's anyways so why not take my jacket as well?"

you snorted, rolling your eyes.

"mr.dostoyevsky, i think you should stick to politics." you joked but the white swan was the earlier stages of the black swan, what white swan does, black swan already did.

"and i think you should stick by my side. don't you, as well? i hope you make a choice you won't regret tomorrow angel." cruel.

oh cruel man, why do you speak so seriously yet kiss your angel's jaw at the same time as if you don't want her to focus on your words but just on the feather like feeling of your lips on her skin for the slightest second.

cruel, cruel man yet oh so ethereal too.

"once again, i'll remind you that two documents will be offered to you and it's your choice to either sign them or tear them. your actions tomorrow will change things greatly, angel." the cruelty continued of the temptation packed into the body of the russian man and his each touch ignited a sense of euphoria on your skin and his words were left with half given attention.

till the event he had foreseen since long ago came to life.

you wrapped fyodor's jacket tighter on your body, smiling to yourself as it still smelled like him. his rich cologne still lingered on the jacket and hugged you to provide you with a sense of stability in the otherwise unusually quite club an hour before its usual opening time. the bag he gifted you yesterday contained a white lacy lingerie set though the curiosity remains to haunt your thoughts with the question -- is this a farewell gift or can you really expect to see him tonight as well?

to see the bustling and lively place look so quiet as staff quickly worked to clean it and organize everything for another night of unconfined emotions is a sight you got used to but still felt weirded out with as your undivided attention went to every inch of the place and noticed every inch which would usually be crowded.

though the way someone bumped into you to make you stumble a few steps forwards was quick to make you scowl and forget about the club and its loneliness just one hour before its opening, you turned to look at her. the hunter and the bully.

the manager and the most sought-after stripper of the club.

"we found you at last!" she rolled her eyes in a exaggerated fashion and you did the same to let her know the annoyance is mutual.

"girls." the clearing of the throat of the manager made both of you to immediately snap your heads towards him who nodded once in what seemed like satisfaction at the obedience and discipline shown.

"mr. fyodor dostoyevsky just submitted his last cheque to our club. a last donation cheque. you know what it means, don't you?" he didn't ask to anyone in particular but the girl beside him widened her eyes in mild surprise.

"he won't be coming back? did he find a new club or?" she asked the manager but you took his chance to reply, answering,

"he must've gotten married by now. he is a married man. he won't mingle with the likes of us anymore." you clutch the hem of his jacket as you raise your eyes to look at your manager, "who will i be assigned to next?"

taken aback by your rapid ability to move on and past the man you've you've serving for the past six months or so, the manager took a moment to gather himself before he nodded but before he could let a word out, the attention was grabbed by fyodor's secretary who walked with two guard behind.

you watched for the next five minutes with utter confusion at the manager and secretary exchanging greetings and words before the manager nodded and stepped aside to let the messenger of the man you love to walk towards you, he greeted you and you reciprocated before he dropped the pin in the lake.

"sir told me to directly give these papers to you." the secretary bowed before offering you a file and a pen he came with and took a step back.

his words made sense now. but they didn't.

you understood the overall situation but it was only the outer layer and the inner layer is yet to be discovered but how? when you don't know which decision will enable you to do so.

and what did you do in times of dilemma?

you did what you were told to many times, to put your trust in the black swan and watch him pull the strings without moving much other then a single finger of his hand.

you anxiously pulled on the sleeve of the white jacket before approaching the nearest hard surface which happened to be the bar counter before you opened the file and signed the first document on the signature space, doing the same with the other document.

this is a trial. a test. to not give in to your selfish or well instinctive desires to read or atleaat skim over the writings of the document is to prove your utmost faith in fyodor whose reward remained a mystery but the end results didn't matter while in the journey with fyodor.

"here." you softly utter and turn back to hand over the file to the secretary but to your surprise, your heart beats as you see fyodor approaching you with rushed steps, one hand loosening the tie around his neck.

but according to the news channels, he was supposed to be getting married at this hour, did he walk off from his wedding?

it's selfish. but the thought made your heart flutter and you couldn't help or overcome the nervousness that took over you.

". . . i trust you, i signed it mr.dostoyevsky." you inform and watch the man nod breathlessly and you wonder what's gotten into him with enough strength to take his breath away?

desire. utter raw desire.

"good, i declare you my wife from here on angel."

you saw the manager and fyodor's secretary widen their eyes before your eyes were forced to close when fyodor caught your wrist which holded the files and quickly pulled you towards him to slam his lips against your's, the papers flew out of your hands but fyodor didn't care.

the hunter watched the swans dance and looked at its partner who had dropped the pin in the lake, to see the latter capturing pictures without looking taken aback.

the manager watched with surprise as the bodyguards and secretary ushered people out of the entire floor.

while fyodor grabbed your waist to lift and place you on top of the counter, lips moving against your's before you parted your lips to whine but the opportunist took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

the girl walked forwards to grab the fallen down papers and she stood straight while keeping her eyes on said papers.

one was a marriage certificate and another was your official resignation letter from the club with the addition of the threat of fyodor's name attached next to your's. and anyone and everyone who worked close enough to the upper class society knows how foolish it is to claim their authority over someone or something whose name has the name of a strong influence next to it.

the girl, the bully, who was she infront of the power named fyodor dostoyevsky?

no one and it was made clear by the way she didn't protest when said man's guards ushered her away as well to let fyodor have the entire floor to himself. he rented it out after all.

"mr.dostoyevsky." you gasp when fyodor separated from you, his half lidded eyes was drawn to the string of saliva connecting your lips to his and he was overtaken by desire again which made him attack your lips ; a lick to your upper lip before he began to nibble on your bottom lip for a while till you pulled him closer by grabbing his black suit coat, fyodor pushed his tongue inside your mouth again and if french kissing is considered sexy then fyodor is certainly doing justice to the claim.

at the same time, his hand went down to unzip the jacket before he pushed it back a bit to flick his finger against your stomach.

fyodor separated from the comfort of your lips to lean towards your ear and whisper, "good choice angel but i thought you didn't trust me? yet here you are, signing the papers without even missing a beat, oh angel --" fyodor sighed out fondly yet his tone remained cocky and amused, " -- always such a good girl for me."

". . .you are crazy, mr.dostoyevsky. absolutely unbelievable." laughing in relief is a short term gesture before fyodor had picked you again and you wrapped your legs around his waist at the sudden action, with widened eyes you watched as he led you towards one of the couches and laid you down.

"told you i would be getting married today but perhaps i forgot to tell you that you were the bride. oh, how can i forget so?" he smiled down, his hand pulling his zip down.

. . . and you are the first woman to kiss him as well. the realization made you smile as you close your eyes.

"not a chance angel, open your eyes and watch your husband satisfy you."

━━━━━━━ 💋 end.

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hookhausenschips · 10 days

Text

Midnight Blue

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar and Y/N form a spontaneous connection at a town fair, leading to a night of driving, stargazing, and dancing that hints at the beginning of a deeper relationship.

Join my taglist here!

—————————————————————

In the dim glow of the dashboard, Oscar Piastri couldn't help but steal another glance at Y/N, whose laughter filled the cabin of his truck, merging seamlessly with the twang of guitars and heartfelt lyrics pouring from the speakers. The radio played a melody that seemed to narrate the spontaneity of their night—unplanned, thrilling, and intoxicatingly free.

It had all started with an accidental meeting at the town's annual fair on a warm, starry evening. Oscar, who was in town visiting family, hadn't planned on anything beyond enjoying the festivities and perhaps indulging in his favorite childhood treats. But then, as he navigated through crowds of cheerful families and excited groups of friends, his eyes met Y/N’s. Her eyes, a striking shade, reminiscent of the clearest summer sky, seemed to draw him in, rendering him momentarily breathless.

Y/N's laugh floated across the crowd, catching Oscar's attention. It was like a melody over the soft hum of the fair, drawing him in. She was standing by the Ferris wheel, her hair catching the glow of the nearby string lights. When their eyes met, there was an unspoken invitation, a moment of recognition that neither could explain nor wanted to ignore.

Instead of looking away, she smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and that was all it took. With an impulsive bravery, Oscar approached her, complimenting her smile and asking if she’d join him for a ride on the Ferris wheel. To his delight, she agreed.

As they ascended, the world below shrinking into a tapestry of lights and sounds, they shared stories of their dreams and the paths they were on. Y/N spoke of her studies in graphic design, her love for art, and her quiet longing for adventures that broke away from the ordinary. Oscar, more reserved, found himself opening up about the thrill and isolation of racing, and how, despite the applause, one could feel profoundly alone amidst the roar of the crowd.

When the wheel paused at the top, the world seemed to hold its breath, and so did they. Below them, the fair was a distant buzz compared to the silence that enveloped their gondola. The moon cast a soft glow on Y/N’s skin.

Descending from the Ferris wheel, the spontaneous suggestion of a drive came easily. Y/N’s friends, seeing her excitement, nudged her along, whispering encouragements.

“Let’s get out of here,” Y/N had said, her voice a mix of excitement and daring. “Show me your favorite spot in this town.”

Oscar led her to his truck, a well-kept vehicle that hinted at his life’s more practical, grounded aspects. The leather of the seat was worn and comfortable, and as Y/N slid into the passenger seat, she pulled her hair into a ponytail, laughing about how she trusted a near stranger to be her tour guide and the nervous edge Oscar had felt melted away.

“Where to?” Oscar had asked, as the engine hummed to life under his experienced hands.

“Anywhere but here,” Y/N had replied, her gaze settling on the horizon. “Somewhere quiet, where we can see the stars.”

Oscar knew just the place—a secluded overlook just outside of town, known mostly to locals. As they drove, the roads became less illuminated, the town lights fading behind them, replaced by the vast, open sky and the occasional glimmer of a distant farmhouse. The radio played softly in the background, songs that seemed to be made for nights like this.

With the stars above them and a playlist of every song that came on the radio, they drove. Y/N’s hands were up in the air, dancing to the music, singing along with a joy that was infectious. Oscar found himself caught in the current of her energy, setting the truck on cruise control as they followed the winding roads out of town.

The roads they took were unfamiliar, every turn a new adventure as they left behind the fair, the town, and the expectations of who they were supposed to be. Time seemed irrelevant, marked only by the songs that played and the stories they shared. At 3:35 AM, the dash clock was a gentle reminder that reality awaited, but it was easy to ignore for the night still felt alive, pulsating with the possibility of each moment.

As they talked, Oscar found himself drawn to her infectious enthusiasm about life. Y/N spoke passionately about her dreams, her love for spontaneous adventures, and her recent travels. Her stories were punctuated with gestures and her eyes lit up in a way that made him want to keep her talking just to see the excitement dance across her features.

Pulling into the overlook, Oscar killed the engine, and they were enveloped by the silence of the night, broken only by the soft rustle of the wind through the trees and the distant call of a night owl. They got out of the truck and sat on the hood, the metal cool against their legs, and looked out at the town below, now just a collection of twinkling lights.

The conversation slowed as they both took in the view, and the night unfolded around them like a soft blanket. Y/N’s hand found its way next to Oscar’s on the hood, their pinkies touching slightly, sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

“You were right,” Y/N whispered, “this is perfect.”

Oscar only nodded, his usual confidence lost in the depth of the moment. They sat there for what could have been hours, talking, laughing, and sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence, watching as the stars took over the sky. The clock on the dash read 3:35 AM, and still, neither of them mentioned leaving.

The radio, still on, began to play a song that seemed to mirror Oscar’s thoughts—about not wanting the night to end, about wanting to hold onto this moment with Y/N forever. Impulsively, he reached over and turned the volume up, the opening chords filling the quiet around them.

Y/N looked at him, a question in her eyes, but Oscar just extended his hand towards her. “Dance with me?”

Here, in the middle of nowhere, under the blanket of the night sky, they danced. Y/N laughed, her head thrown back, her hands in his as they swayed clumsily to the music. Oscar felt like he was losing hold of everything he thought was important before this night, his world narrowing down to the girl with the starry eyes and the smile that seemed to promise endless adventures.

As the song ended, they stood there, breathless and more alive than ever. Oscar knew then, under the starlit sky with Y/N’s hands still in his, that he never wanted this night to end.

But the inevitable light of dawn was creeping up the horizon, hinting at goodbyes that neither of them wanted to think about. As they drove back to town, the sky turned a pale blue, the morning quiet except for the sound of the tires on the road and the soft hum of the radio.

“I don’t want this night to end,” Oscar finally said, voicing the thought that had been lingering between them.

Y/N turned to him, her smile soft but sad. “Neither do I, Oscar. But maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s just a beginning.”

As he dropped her off, the first rays of the sun lighting up her face, he believed her. Maybe it was just a beginning. And as Y/N leaned in to kiss him goodbye, he felt certain it was a beginning he wanted to explore, no matter where the roads might take them.

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ultralightpoe · 9 months

Text

Lavender Haze - Jake Seresin

Authors Note: I have been trying to find any sort of energy to post and get out of bed. Got so close to giving up on life itself and I'm barely back, please bare with me as I try to find my way out of my depression hole I have dug for myself everyone. I know it's been a minute but life has been kicking my ass. Be patient with me - Ultralight

Word Count: 5024 (and i hate every bit of them)

Warnings: poorly written smut.

Apart of my MIDNIGHTS EVENT. (Next Event is Sour by Olivia Rodrigo. Requests closed. Event following yet to be decided)

SOUR EVENT

MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

Meet me at midnight

Starin' at the ceilin' with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

The bar was long forgotten behind them, both bodies merged into one as they clung to each other, leaning against the car behind them as their lips refused to separate. Moans slipped from both parties and buttons were being toyed with as both parties did their best to separate.

It was a struggle, one that neither could really fight, but finally they pulled back to breathe. Eyes gazing into each other as they panted to catch their breath, bodies pressed to each other.

“This is a really bad idea.” He mutters. “We should stop.”

“We should.” You mutter back, nodding slightly as you both stare back at each other. Then in a split your lips are back on eachother, trying to eat eachothers faces off.

“I am so happy you came to see me.” Your brother smiles, hugging you tightly in the baggage check of the airport, spinning you around. “I have so much I want to show you.”

“Is there a bathroom and maybe a taco truck on the itinerary?” You joke, pulling back to stare at Bob with a small smile.

“Oh! Yeah! Let’s go!” Your brother laughs, snatching your bag quickly and leading you through the airport as he talks your ear off about his new station. “And tomorrow I can show you around the flight pad.”

“Will I get to meet all the handsome pilots?”

“Yes.”

“Can I marry some of them?”

“Some?”

“I like to keep my options open.” You laugh, watching your brother's face fall into one of disgust. You were so incredibly thankful that your brother was letting you live with him while you started your new job out here, it was one less thing to worry about. “But all jokes aside I am excited to meet all your friends.”

I've been under scrutiny (yeah, oh, yeah)

You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh, yeah)

All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh, yeah)

Somehow you had both made it into his car, him driving as you stared at him silently, your hands fidgeting in your lap from the nerves until he reaches over to hold one of your hands in his own.

“You want me to drop you home?” He asks, keeping his eyes on the road until you don’t answer and finally moving to look at you. “If you are uncomfortable I can drop you off-”

“I’m fine.” You whisper, leaning forward to kiss him again as your heart races. He smiles, kissing you back before the light turns green and he turns back to the road. You were beginning to silently beg him to run the red lights.

“Okay so this is my desk, but I’m not here often-” Bob explains, fixing his glasses as you follow him around with a small smile. “And that is Natasha’s desk. Our desks are always by each other.”

“That’s fun.” You smile, leaning forward to pick up one of his pens. “Can I have this-”

“No.” Your brother mumbles, slapping it out of your hand and moving you in another direction. “This is Rooster, and you remember Phoenix-”

“Good to see you, Natasha!” You smile, leaning to hug her.

“We use our callsigns here, Y/n.” Bob corrects, making you roll your eyes. “Got it bob.”

“It’s great seeing you Y/n.” Natasha smiles, following Rooster out. Your brother takes you around to meet more of his team, introducing you nervously until you got to him.

“Who is this here?” The voice drawls out as the man smiles at you, dropping the bag he was carrying easily to reach his hand out. “I don’t believe I have ever met such a beauty before-”

“Come on, Y/n.” Your brother mumbles, slapping the other guys hand away as he turns you to walk away. “That was Jake, stay away from him.”

“Oh?” You laugh, following your brother while risking a glance back to Jake, seeing the man already staring back at you.

I feel the lavender haze creepin' up on me

Surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

By the time you both make it into his apartment you are conjoined again, chest to chest as you melt into each other, the heat of your skin taking control as he shoves you against the door to shut it, his hands traveling down your sides past your ass until they get to your thighs.

“This is a terrible idea.” He whispers against your lips, biting down on your bottom lip making you moan out.

“Shut it, Jake.”

“Your brother is going to kill me, Sugar.” Oh that nickname, that terrible terrible nickname that did terrible things to you.

“Let’s not talk about my brother right now, yeah?” You giggle out, reaching a hand to struggle against the buttons of his shirt before you grow frustrated and just tear at it making the buttons fly across his floor.

“Fuck.” He gasps, lunging for your lips again.

“So I don’t get it.” You start, staring at your older brother across the table after you get home from your first day of work that evening, watching him scoop you up the food he made. “You love your team, but not him?”

“No, he is included.”

“Then why do you talk about him like you hate him?”

“Because he is kind of an asshole. And he goes home with a different girl every night, so going out to drink with him basically means you are going out by yourself and watching him flirt with some tramp all night.”

“Right because females living their best sexual life makes them tramps.” You scoff making your brother blush.

“Good point.”

“I just don’t get why you hate him so much.”

“On the team? Lucky to have him. In everything else? Biggest tool I know. Just stay away.” He warns, using a spoon to threaten you.

“Will do four eyes.” You scoff. “I don’t even think he is that attractive.”

All they keep askin' me (all they keep askin' me)

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see (only kind of girl they see)

Is a one-night or a wife

“I think you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever fucking met.” Jake mutters, dragging you away from the door and picking you up by your thighs, your nails dragging across his skin in a way that makes him groan. “Do that again.”

You giggle, leaning down to kiss him as he carries you across the room, a tight hold on you when he trips over his own shoes in an attempt to tear them off. “Shit- sorry.”

“Anyone ever tell you how hot you are?” You were sure many people had, but you still admired the way his cheeks flamed up at your praise, his lips moving down your neck as he kissed and sucked in an effort to please you.

Before you know it he had you set upon his kitchen table, reaching an arm out to knock everything off before he reached to lift your dress above your head. “I’ve been waitin’ for this since I met ya, Sugar.”

“Then hurry up.” You bite out, reaching to nip at his collar bone.

“This is such a terrible idea.” Bob mutters, fixing his shirt for the hundredth time that day as you look around the room.

“I think it looks great.”

“They are going to think it’s stupid.” He blushes, scratching the back of his neck before bringing a hand up to fix his glasses. “Make fun of me.”

“If they think it’s stupid then they are assholes, yeah? I think it looks great.” You snap, reaching to answer the door when the bell rings out.

Your brother had thrown a western party for the premiere of a show they all watched, and had even roped you (pun intended) into dressing up and joining them even though you never watched the show and always thought it to be stupid and cheesy.

But this was your brother so you wore a stupid country getup and put on a smile, answering the door like you were so excited to see all his friends. “Come on in! Welcome!”

They had all dressed up as well, a fact that made your heart swell when your brother saw the effort they had put in, showing them where he had laid out all the snacks.

“Any of your friends comin’?” Jake Seresin, the one your brother warned you about, asks when you turn back to him in the doorway.

“Oh! No, I haven’t really made many friends yet. New and all.” You shrug, trying to fight the embarrassed heat that travels your neck at the thought. It had been months since you moved out here, and the only people you saw were your brother and your coworkers……and your coworkers hate you.

Well, it’s not that they hated you but more so the fact that they were all a lot older and had been going out for their friday drinking nights long before anyone else got there, and they weren’t too keen on inviting the new kids. Not that you’d ever want to go out drinking with a bunch of bitchy 60 year olds who brought up how they thought abortion was murder even though you had been discussing crayons. (AN: This actually happened to me. I still to this day cannot figure out how she managed to change the conversation so quickly)

“You should come out drinking with us some time then.” He smiles, nodding his head to Bradley as the man passes. “It’s loads of fun.”

“Loads of fun watching you tackle the conquest of the night?”

“Ah, so you’ve been warned about my ways.”

“Sadly for you.” You tease, smiling when your brother walks up. You can see the hesitation on his face, and already know your brother thinks he is about to be made fun of.

“Thanks for coming Hangman.”

“Hey, you’re house your nicknames. Bagman will do just fine under your roof.” Jake smiles, and everyone whips their heads to watch. “I brought some twizzlers and black licorice. Figured the licorice would match the wild west theme and the twizzlers would actually taste good.”

“Thanks Bagman.” You brother smiles, grabbing the bag from him and moving to set it with the snacks. When Jake passes by he risks a look at you, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face when he blushes at your wink.

“Let’s get this show started!” Fanboy laughs, clapping his head as they all rush to the couches. You take your chance to head upstairs, knowing your brother would be fine.

I find it dizzying (yeah, oh, yeah)

They're bringin' up my history (yeah, oh, yeah)

But you aren't even listening (yeah, oh, yeah)

(Ooh-whoa)

Both of you were left panting as he struggled with the zipper of his pants, stuck in an intoxicating glow, your hands rubbing along the exposed skin as he finally shoved his pants off, kicking them and his boxers to the side.

“You sure?” He mutters, his nose pressing against your cheek in a soft manner and he pulls you closer to the end up the table by your hips.

“Like no other.” You whimper, legs wrapping around him as you move to kiss him. He nods, making sure you are ready before entering you in one swift motion, grunting into the kiss as you moan out.

“And here I was worried about no foreplay.” He gasps out, watching your eyes flutter beneath him.

“Shut it.” You snipe, biting down on his lip as you move your hips in an effort to make him move. Your stomach clenches and you gasp out, enjoying the way his hands tighten on your hips to keep you close for a moment.

“Not being a dick, Sugar, just admiring.” He mutters, taking a second to kiss down your chest before he begins his movements.

“What an asshole.” Natasha mutters, stabbing at her froyo with the cheap plastic spoon they gave her at the froyo shop.

“Because he charged you for the m&ms you ate while we were in line?” You laugh, watching her glare.

“No. I’m talking about Jake.”

“Ah, slutty bagman.” You giggle, already picturing him in your mind. Not that you would ever admit this to your brother or his flight partner but ever since you saw him in Uniform he had been running through your mind all day and night, then in the country getup and it was like a romance novel brought to life.

You, sadly, had been reading nothing but country romances since. You seriously missed having friends.

“That what Bob calls him?”

“No, it’s what I’ve named him after everything I have heard. What did he do?”

“Stole my spot.”

“How so?”

“He’s……..”

“If you are about to tell me that he got that spot because he is a man I will shred his fucking throat out.”

“No, and that’s the annoying part. I know I can beat just about anyone, especially with your brother at my 6. But Jake is an amazing pilot and he deserved the spot but I had been working for it since I started, you know?”

“Does he know?”

“No, talking to him is like talking to a mean parrot. He mocks and repeats, but never really understands.”

“Parrots understand actually, they can have whole conver-”

“That was your takeaway from that?”

“Why don’t you just ask him for lessons?”

“Because he would brag. And then it would start a fight and we would all be stuck doing 500 pushups on the flight pad again.” The image of Jake all sweaty from pushups and sun flashes through your mind and you nearly drop the cup you were holding, choosing to set it down with shaky hands.

“I think you guys all just don’t really give him a chance.”

“Yeah, well……he is an asshole.”

“So I have heard.”

I feel the lavender haze creepin' up on me

Surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

That lavender haze

The kitchen table slid against the floors as Jake grunted out, one hand flying to the table for better traction while the other slipped up your side until he was cupping your cheek in his hand. “You good, Sugar?”

Good? That barely began to describe the feeling you were in right now. This man knew exactly what to say, where to touch, your stomach was clenching and you could barely catch your breath under his gaze. “pleasedon’tstop .”

He smiles as you gasp out, leaning to catch your lips on his own as the hand that had been placed on your cheek reaches down to pinch and roll at your breasts. “Never.”

It came out as more of a growl than an actual word but you were just fine with that, moaning loudly as your hands tried to grip on for dear life, listening to the sound of the table scratching on the hardwood.

He seems to recognize how loud it was, stopping his movements to pick you up and take you over to the couch, smiling widely when you whine out at the lack of contact. “You said you wouldn’t stop.”

“Yeah, but I’d have to stop if we got a noise complaint.” He smiles, bringing you in for a kiss as he leads you to lay on the couch, his lips dragging down your jaw until he reaches your collarbone and adjusts himself. “Ready?”

“Obviousl-” You don’t get to finish the sentence, gasping out when his hand finds purchase on your clit as he pushes his hips into yours, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Are you seriously playing card games at church?” He laughs, making you jump out in surprise when he scares you, some of the cards flying from your hold as you whip around to face him.

“What are you doing here?!”

“You mean, going to church with the rest of the flight crew?” Damn, that one was kind of obvious. “You?”

“I had the day off and Bob said if he had to come then so did I.” You scoff, still obviously irritated that your brother dragged you out of bed like you were teenagers arguing over who had to leave with mom again.

“So you hid in the dark hallways and played cards with yourself.” Jake mumbles, moving to sit criss crossed from you, pulling the deck from our hand and shuffling it. “I like it.”

“I got bored.” You shrug, watching his expertly shuffle. “And all the older women keep asking me when I plan on getting married.”

“Ah, when do you plan on getting married?”

“When I meet the right person.” You snap, snatching the cards from him. “We’re playing goldfish.”

“With two people?”

“Fine, we are playing garbage.”

“You only know kid games, Sugar?”

“Feel free to go back in if you don’t like it.”

“Easy easy, just a question.” He laughs, holding his hands up in surrender as you deal out the cards. “Loser has to buy drinks tonight at the hangar.”

“That doesn’t work because I don’t plan on going out.”

“Now you do.”

“I have really important plans.” You lie.

“Yeah? Some smutty novel got your heart?” He teases and you feel yourself flush under his gaze, making him smile more. “Loser buys a round at the hangar tonight, then you can go home.”

“Fine.” You smile, getting ready to play.

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk (get it off my desk)

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He gasps out, feeling you fall apart under him before he stops for a second, forehead resting on your collarbone to breathe. “I hate you- right now I hate you.”

“That’s fair.” You smile, scratching his back some more to draw out a groan. His hips begin moving again, his forehead dragging along your skin until it rests against your own, his hands on either side of your head trapping you in.

“You are very intoxicating.”

“So are you.” You admit, legs tightening around his hips once more as he eases you into another high with barely any movement, sweat clinging to both your bodies.

The only problem with the bet you made this morning? You hadn’t known Jake was an expert at cheating at cards.

Which led you to the Hangar later that night, wearing your favorite party dress as your brother disappeared in the club lights to find his friends, leaving you at the bar to order drinks. You already missed the nice warmth of your bed and the ability to go to sleep early as you watched everyone move around you while you waited for the bartender.

“What can I get ya?” The tender asks the tall gentleman that had been beside you, raising a brow that obviously said he wanted to get going already.

“Just a coors and whatever this young peach would like!” At that request the tender turns to you with a bored expression while you shake your head.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m getting drinks for me and my friends. Thank you though.” You smile, shaking your head quickly to the guy while he shrugs.

“I don’t mind buying a round for pretty ladies. What do you want?”

“Really, I am fine.” You smile, moving to look around the club and try to find your brother under the lights, suddenly you feel a hand rubbing at your shoulder in a gross manner.

“Sweetie, how bout you let a gentleman treat you well for once?”

“How bout you get your hands off her, yeah pal?” Jake’s voice sounds out from behind you, pushing the hand off your shoulder and turning to the bartender. “Two shots of her choice on this pervs tab?”

“You got it.” The bartender smiles, watching you point to your favorite liquor as grabby douche shakes his head.

“I’m not buying drinks for you and your boyfriend!”

“But I thought you wanted to treat me well?” You ask, blinking at him with a fake dumb look that has him sneering at you until the bartender comes back and hands you both shots. “Have a great night, thanks for the round Sweetie.”

Jake lets you walk in front of him, keeping an eye on the asshole just in case, easing up when you both make it to the table with the shots. You slide one to him, smiling from ear to ear.

“To assholes not knowing no.”

“To people who don’t know how to play card games.” He clinks the shot to your own in cheers before throwing it back, laughing when your face pinches up.

“You cheated!”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

“By the way this does not count as the round you owe me!”

“Does so!”

“Does not!”

“I hate you!”

“That’s fair, sugar.”

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

(Ooh-whoa)

Three highs later you both are laying on his rug in the living room, side by side as you try to catch your breath, blinking slowly.

“For such a bad idea that felt great.” You blurt, voice scratchy and worn out, watching as he tiredly sits up, moving to drag you back onto the couch from where you had fallen, wrapping his arms around you as the cushions engulf you both.

“Bad ideas always turn out the best in my opinion.” He mutters, pulling the blanket down to cover both your figures.

“You are so dead if Bob finds out.”

“Shhh, I’ll worry about my funeral after we get some sleep.”

One round turned into four rounds which turned into you and Jake staying long after everyone else left, laughing your asses off as the night descended into chaos. Suddenly you both were playing a drunken game of two truths and a lie, cackling at every little thing possible.

“Okay okay. 1.) I cheated at the card game. 2.) My name is Jake and 3.) I drive a jeep.”

“I saw your truck on the way in here dumbass.” You snort before the words process fully. “YOU ADMIT TO CHEATING!”

“Nuh huh, it’s your turn.” He snorts, poking your cheek.

“Okay. 1.) I am bobs sister 2.) I hate my new job and 3.) I know how to fly a plane.”

“You hate your job?” He asks seriously, face falling a bit as he watches you. “But Bob said you seem to love it.”

“That’s because I want him to think I love it so he doesn’t feel bad.” You admit, watching him closely. “He already has enough stress.”

“What do you hate about your job?”

“The old people I work with, the basic tasks they give me when I am supposed to be learning an entirely new field not to mention I just really miss my friends at my old job. I can never seem to catch a break with this crew, not that I would want to since they are all kind offf…..” You trail off when you realize how close to him you had gotten, a haze coming over you and for a moment the only thing you can think of is closing the gap and kissing him.

Jake takes the chance, leaning forward to capture your lips on his own, both of you trapped in a heated liplock for a moment before he tears away breathless. “Bob can never know I just did that.”

“Agreed.” You whisper, blinking up at him for a moment before lunging for another kiss the same time he does, your hands flying to his shirt to pull him close.

Before either of you know it you are both stumbling to his truck, tripping and stumbling on the way.

It was a struggle, one that neither could really fight, but finally they pulled back to breathe. Eyes gazing into each other as they panted to catch their breath, bodies pressed to each other.

“This is a really bad idea.” He mutters. “We should stop.”

“We should.” You mutter back, nodding slightly as you both stare back at each other. Then in a split your lips are back on eachother, trying to eat eachothers faces off.

I feel (I feel) the lavender haze creepin' up on me

Surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say (oh, yeah)

No deal (no deal), the 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

The shrill sound of his alarm clock at 5am wakes you both up quickly, snapping awake in a panic as he lunges to turn if off. “Sorry,”

You can barely hear him over the pounding in your head, throwing your face into the throw pillow on his couch to block out the sun while he struggles to find his boxers, slipping them on and shuffling over to you. “Alright, come on.”

“Are you kicking me out?” You whine, looking up at him with a heartbroken face as he pushes one hand under your thighs and the other behind your back.

“God no, I’m taking you to bed.” He smiles sleepily, tripping over one of your shoes as he pads to the room, keeping his hold on you tight. “That couch sucks.”

The second he sees the bed is within limits he throws you on, shuffling to grab one of his shirts and throws it at your face before moving to climb under the blankets. Watching you slowly dress into the shirt before holding the comforter up like a tent while you crawl into the embrace, and before you both know it you are snoring again. Missing the dozens of messages left by your brother.

It’s the pounding that wakes you up next….okay well not the pounding but Jake getting up to go investigate the sound and you missing the warmth the wakes you up, but the second you hear the sound you sit up to watch him disappear from sight.

You hear the door creak open before you hear the voice. “Do you know where my sister went last night? Because she is not answering her phone and she didn’t come home-”

“About that. Listen Bob she-”

“And I am really worried since she always at least messages me-”

“She’s in my room..” Jake says it so naturally, and by the time you reach the doorway wrapped in his comforter you can hear the thud of your brother's fist bashing into Jake's face, gasping out when he falls harshly.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” You scream, rushing up to help Jake off the floor as Bob glares.

“I told him to stay away from you- I told you to stay away from HIM!” Bob yells, rubbing his forehead. “Y/n he is a-”

“Not to me.” You scoff, wrapping the blanket tighter. “You talk crap about him all the time but he’s nice to me!”

“Nice? He was just trying to get you into bed-”

“I was…. Jesus, I was going to take her out after we woke up today.” Jake sighs, rubbing his cheek. “I had this whole plan that just didn’t work out so now I am-”

“No no no. I don’t want to hear it.” Bob sighs. “You go get dressed. I’ll wait outside.”

He storms out after that, leaving you and Jake side by side in silence. “Told you it was a bad idea.”

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

That lavender haze, I just wanna stay

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

Four months later and you are sitting in Jake’s truck, decked out in purple as you try your best to get off the phone with your brother, watching Jake glare at the car in front of him.

“Oh, Bobby it looks like I am losing service-”

“You are such a liar. Just promise me you will send me pictures of Jake from that concert, everyone wants to see them.” He laughs and Jake sends a glare in your direction, obviously having heard your brother. “I need to see him in the getup.”

“No.” Jake snaps, shaking his head. In your opinion he looked amazing, decked out in a purple outfit for the Taylor Swift concert that he had brought you to. It had all gone amazing until the traffic afterwards hit and you were getting glitter all over his car.

“I think he looks great.” You mumble into the phone. “Okay I reallygottagobye.”

Your brother tries to argue but you are quick to hang up, reaching to turn the radio up only to be stopped by Jake. “Nuh uh.”

“What? Why?” You scoff slapping his hand before he slaps yours back.

“We were just at her concert. I love you…..and I love her but I think I just need a Taylor Swift break.” He mumbles, eyes widening when yours narrow. “Nevermind, I didn’t mean it.”

“What. Did. You. Say?” “I didn’t say anything. I love you so much, and I would never say anything against Taylor- ye OW!” He yelps when you pinch his arm.

“Take it back, say you are sorry!”

“NO!”

“TAKE IT BACK JAKE!”

“-LAVENDER HAZE CREEPIN OVER ME-” He ignores you, reaching to turn the song up as you scoff.

“I hate you.”

“That’s fair.” He smiles, leaning over to kiss your lips. “I love you too.”

(Authors Note: I have been trying to find any sort of energy to post and get out of bed. Got so close to giving up on life itself and I'm barely back, please bare with me as I try to find my way out of my depression hole I have dug for myself everyone. I know it's been a minute but life has been kicking my ass. Be patient with me - Ultralight)

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mambalae-s · 10 months

Text

wc: 7.8k words

cw: milf! reader; reader is described as a plus sized black woman; masturbation (m); public masturbation (m); no penetrative sex; fantasizing — throat fucking; one (1) mention of a daddy kink; one sided sexual tension; wakatoshi is a simp; he’s down bad; let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

notes from author: so, i’d wound myself up for an entire month working on this and i still had so much i wanted to write for it despite it already being nearly 8,000 words long…! i’ll certainly try my best to make a second part for this, one i’ll want to write from our reader’s experience too! this, truthfully, wasn’t the first idea for my milf reader idea, but i think it’s so much better, and i’m happy with the plot i settled with! i hope that, at least even a little bit, it’ll be satisfying for you to read, too!

it’s amidst a blistering summer’s day when you move into the house next to his.

there’s blood pumping beneath ushijima wakatoshi’s skin and boiling beneath each heavy breath that wafts from his swollen lips. his feet pound against the paved roads as he jogs at a steady pace, and he feels his fibers tinge with a static as they blaze beneath the sweltering noon’s heat, a familiar ache ebbing deep within his muscles and crawling through his veins. the sweat clinging to his brow burns like a toxin that pours out through every cell, his heart beating with the drums that pound through his airpods and teach him a dance he’d learned many times before. iwaizumi had told him once that running could be as addictive as any drug, and here, beneath clear blue skies and through heavy draws of air, wakatoshi considers that maybe he was right.

he takes a deep breath as he mounds the slight hill that leads to his house, and abruptly, his pace halts, chest heaving still as his eyes take to the moving truck parked out in front of the house next to his; a house that had, for a while, remained empty, certainly gathering dust and stale air after the elderly couple had moved away nearly a month long past. it had been easy for him to forget all about the vacant space, what with him dedicating his days to training and months of traveling for practice and tournaments, and it seems that, within that time, someone’s finally purchased it and were moving in today.

he’d been gone long enough for the hard working men to have finished their work, wakatoshi muses, as he watches them pack away their trollies and begin making to either door of their truck. though, as he stands there, he feels puzzled, confused and seeking reason to something he can’t find. there’s nothing spectacular about seeing these two men readying to go about their day, nothing that should keep wakatoshi’s feet planted and his laboured breaths stilling beneath the wind, yet he finds himself waiting, lulled into a curiosity that he can’t explain as he watches the break lights glow red and listens to the engine roaring to life.

and then, he sees you.

you, who wears a gorgeous sundress, deep purple fabric woven like a tapestry of flowers that blossom over a body of voluptuous curves. he finds himself enraptured by your brown skin that shines beneath the scorching sun like smoky quartz, by the sweat that lines your brow as he likens the glistening sight of it to beautiful jewels that shine around your smile and set you alight with the luster of ten thousand diamonds. the strands of your black hair, they sheen on the painting of the midnight sky; dark and elegantly falling around your round face and pouring like a river of obsidian and black tourmaline across your busty chest.

“thank you so much once again,” your voice comes through with fluency in his mother tongue, the japanese you speak perhaps a little regional… osaka, he considers, or kyoto? your voice sings on the breathlessness of intense labour, and wakatoshi deludes himself into thinking that the exhaustion on your sultry voice mirrors the intensely beating heart that stirs in his chest with a restlessness that he doesn’t attribute to his run. “seriously, you two… i can’t tell you how much i appreciate coming all this way!”

the older men you speak to are friendly in their departure, cheering with bright smiles that resemble yours in their warmth and openness as they drive down the deep slope, passing him by the side and far from his mind as he loses his focus on you. suddenly, the fog that clouds his mind doesn’t come from a sweltering summer’s day, but instead from the picture of you, hot and bothered and eyes squeezed shut as you try to wave cool air over your wet skin. the daze that locks around his tongue is the one of your sheen-covered lips as they part and let pass the heavy breaths that sit on your chest, of the rise and fall of your large breasts and the bit of tummy that he can see atop your curves. that daze that consumes wakatoshi, he tells it to lust — a venom that crawls through his bloodstream and tinges his tongue with desire unchecked, so that he becomes consumed by you and the deceptively innocent visage that burns itself into his skin. and suddenly, wakatoshi feels too damn hot, his heart beats so hard he fears it’ll leap right from his throat, and his pants are too damn tight.

oh. fuck… how embarrassing could it be to get a hard on in front of your new neighbour? he didn’t think he’d ever have to ponder such a specific scenario, and he certainly isn’t happy to have a taste of it first hand. even worse, what is he supposed to do when the very same neighbour turns her eyes to him and catches him staring like some demented creep? wakatoshi’s face burns with a heat that far precedes the blazing sun and he wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole as his mouth starts to taste of sand and parchment paper. really, he shames himself, how appallingly embarrassing!

just like a guilty child, he averts his eyes as his blood boils across his neck. his feet act on their own, guided by the desire to disappear as quickly as he can with hurried steps and trembling hands that are more than eager to open his front door and seal him behind their sanctuary, and he feels even more guilt for awkwardly avoiding the kind yet confused smile you’d sent his way as you watched the large man scurry up his front steps. the protruding bulge that pokes out from his trousers is so painfully obvious, almost aching behind its confines as he prays that you hadn’t had enough time to notice it. and even then, behind his barrier of safety, he’s left with a problem — a very big one that powders his nose red and takes his breath on laboured climbs.

huffing, wakatoshi trudges to the kitchen, desperately searching his refrigerator for the coldest bottle of water he can find and starts chugging right away. arctic drops spill between his lips and down his throat, though the chill does nothing to dissipate the heat coursing beneath his skin and inside his pants. he doesn’t intend to slam the now half empty bottle down on his counter the way he does, but he loses control and water spills over, and his olive eyes only glare at the puddle that drips over on his marbled floor with something of disdain and increasing frustration.

for all that was holy, he can’t stop thinking of you. even now, with cold water sticking to his skin and poured over his bare feet, wakatoshi cannot get this image of you out of his mind and is rendered powerless to the aching boner that refuses to go away. within just one moment, you’ve seeped into his mind like a parasite that morphs and festers on sin and fornication, plaguing him with your large breasts and plump thighs that sheened with sweat and poured out from beneath your sundress. it’s a hard battle he faces with himself, feeling morally disgusted by the thoughts he finds himself with, and all about a stranger, no less. there’s no way he could be acting so depraved, right? is he a man so starved that the mere sight of an admittedly attractive woman could send him reeling like a damn teenage boy?

once more, wakatoshi heaves a heavy sigh, slouching for a moment with hands clenching the edge of his black stone counter before he rises to his full height. it’ll do him good to at least clean up this spill, and perhaps, he thinks, he aught to keep himself busy — surely then, he’ll forget all about you, and this glaring problem beneath his trousers will forget you too.

thankfully, it’s easier than he’d had hoped to fill the hours of his day. after taking care of his spill, wakatoshi takes to his home gym and continues working out till the late evening, when he showers and prepares himself to settle in with a cup of white wine and a book that he’d bought himself a while back, though only just recently had the time to begin. it’s only so rare for him to be able to enjoy slow days like this between training and volleyball tournaments, and he finds himself at peace with this lull in his schedule. finally, he feels relaxed and at ease, and his stressful situation from the afternoon earlier is far from his mind, until there’s a knock at his front door, and his heart lurches in his chest.

apprehensive, he turns his jade coloured eyes to the smoky glass panels by his entrance, and he feels his tongue turn heavy when he sees you waiting. for a moment, he hopes that you’ll give up if he doesn’t answer, though he immediately feels a bit guilty for thinking that. you’re only wanting to greet your new neighbour and make a good first impression, he considers, and it certainly isn’t any fault of yours the situation he’d found himself in earlier that day. you’re entirely blameless, and it’s really him who apparently needs to mature and grow a bit more than he’d thought. taking a long sip from his glass of chardonnay, wakatoshi builds himself on liquid courage and meets you by his doorway — though there’s no amount of wine that could’ve possibly prepared him for the sight that greets him once he opens the door.

you’re here, but you hadn’t come alone. hiding behind each leg are a young boy and girl who look about the same age and share striking resemblance to your own soft features. heads topped by black, wavy curls, with her tied in pigtails and his cut to his shoulders, there’s curiosity in their dark brown eyes as they appraise him, and he feels almost as if they’re judging him with something that he can’t identify. and you, you smile sweetly at him, your lips painted with a clear gloss that shines golden beneath the lights of his entryway’s chandelier.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you so late in the night, mister,” you offer your apology, and wakatoshi can hear more clearly the distinction in your accent that he’d only briefly heard before. now, as he listens attentively, unconsciously taking in the sultriness of your voice as your words flow from your two-toned lips, he’s certain that it really is a kansai dialect. “i’d just wanted to introduce ourselves since we’d just moved into the neighbourhood.” you lift your hands, that he now notices are not empty, to present a beautifully packaged basket with a little pink bow tying it closed. “and we also brought you these as a gift — a thank you gift, kind of! for having us here with you!”

wakatoshi accepts the gift basket from your hands, trying his best not to focus on the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and beam brightly up at him. standing so close, he’s able to notice new things about you that he wishes he didn’t feel so curious about; like the way you style yourself elegantly, your straight black hair parted to the side, curling the smaller hairs surrounding your forehead so that they lay neatly and perfectly brushed to frame your round face, or the fact that you stand several inches shorter than him, perhaps only barely reaching his chest. he wishes he doesn’t take in the clothes you wear and how they fit your beautiful figure, how your white cardigan hangs elegantly over a beige tank top and khaki coloured pants that accentuate your mature body. he tries, not to notice these many things about you, and so hopelessly fails, as he clears his throat and tries to offer you a polite smile that he hopes doesn’t come off as a grimace.

“thank you for being so thoughtful,” he says, and your smile widens, your eyes creasing around your expression as you respectfully bow.

“it’s my pleasure! i really should be thanking you for welcoming us this late!” theres a timidness to your grin as you lift yourself to full standing once more and you bashfully laugh. “it took us a little longer than we thought to prepare all our gift baskets — oh, right!” your eyes widen on a realization, “my name’s (l/n) (f/n), and these two here,” gesturing to the two children behind you, you bend down a bit to rest a hand on either of their backs. “this here is asahi, and this is makoto.”

the two young children, with your encouragement, bow their heads in greeting to him, with the boy — asahi — quickly returning to hide behind your leg, while makoto continues to stare at him, now with her curiosity unbridled and what looks like an eagerness that roars beneath her brown eyes.

he looks back up at you and offers a bow of his own, ducking his head with the basket clutched to his chest. “my name’s ushijima wakatoshi,” he says his name, and immediately, he hears two simultaneous gasps from the children by your feet. though, at least in this moment, he decides not to ponder too much on the expression. “thank you for introducing yourselves and for bringing a gift.”

you wave your hand in a ‘shoo shoo’ motion and shake your head. “no need for thanks, ushijima-san,” you hum, “really, it’s nothing much, but i hope you’ll be able to find good use for them— ”

“are you a volleyball player?”

suddenly, the little girl, makoto, blurts out a question that causes your eyes to widen and catches him off guard as you both turn your attention to her. she continues to stare up at him, as if awaiting his answer despite you reaching for her hand to gently pull her back. “makoto!” you exhale, a bit surprised, it seemed, as if you hadn’t expected her to ask something like that. though wakatoshi, he doesn’t take any issue at all with her question, and he simply nods his head, once more offering the most polite of smiles he can muster.

“that’s right. i play volleyball.”

you seem to recognize something within the awe-filled gazes of the two children that he doesn’t, because before either of them can get a word out, you’re hurriedly reaching for their hands and making your way down the stairs. “thanks so much again, mr. ushijima!” you call back to him with one free hand, leaving the man standing stunned inside his doorway as you walk away from him. “let’s get along well from now on!” when you think you’re far enough, he thinks he hears your voice taking to astonishment as the little girl whines a complaint — “but mom, we saw him on tv! it’s really him!” and your response heavily pouring with your dialect as you lightly scold her for blurting out so suddenly.

he’s left here, basket in his hand as he hears several gears creaking to their abrupt stops and clanking as they fall apart in his mind. mom? she’d said mom, hadn’t she? with ghostly steps that are far too quiet for a man of his stature, wakatoshi shuffles to his expansive living room where he sets your gift atop his clear glass coffee table, right next to his glass of wine and his book, and collapses into the black suede sofa behind him. you’re a mother? the guilt that consumes him tastes bitter and threatens to crawl up his throat. he sits, hands folded above his lips as his elbows dig into his thighs, and he stays this way for one minute, then two, constantly replaying the sound of your daughter calling you mom. your daughter, your daughter and son, you have a daughter and a son who both call you mom—

wearily, wakatoshi’s eyes glaze over your cutely packaged gift and straight to the glass of wine that sits like a pretty temptation, and cruelly, he thinks of how you are just the same. a beautiful and painfully enticing temptation that will surely render him helpless if he gets any more involved with you. he groans, hissing under his breath as he reaches for the glass and stands up. it’ll serve him better to retire for the night, he concedes, a hand nursing the growing migraine that sits on either side of his head. he’ll finish his glass and read his book peacefully in bed, and for the second time this day, wakatoshi will forget all about you.

except, he doesn’t.

amidst his waking dreams and long night, forgetting you is impossible. how can he, when you come to him here in his bed, the straps of your purple dress falling from your brown shoulders and your breasts pouring out from the thin material? how is wakatoshi supposed to forget you when in his dreams, you tease him with the likeness of a vixen, when you lift the edges of your skirt to show him just how plump and fleshy your thighs and ass are, whispering “do you wish to touch me, mr. ushijima?” in that sultry, silk-like voice of yours. he dreams of the way your eyes would roll back into your skull if he brushes his fingers over that sweet spot between your legs, if his tongue traces lines over your panties until your knees buck and you fall right on top of him. in his dreams, he wants you so much that it’s an ache he needs to fill, until he’s unconsciously fucking his mattress and squeezing his pillows with a vice. his breathing is laboured and tasting of honey as he begs you yes, yes, please, i need you… need you so bad, please i need to touch you—

his climax rocks his body like an earthquake and tears him away from sleep with a jolt, his chest heaving as sweat clings to his skin and his eyes, disoriented, search his dark room for your image before they fall to the soiled mess leaking through his boxers and between his thighs. his damn cock is twitching, still painfully sensitive, and wakatoshi stutters through a gasp as his hips buck uncontrollably, as if chasing some phantom feeling, cum still continuing to spurt from the angry red tip. he reels from pure shock and a bit of morbid amazement as he reflects on his dream, and as he recalls those dirty visuals his mind managed to conjure, he lets out a loud, frustrated cry and falls flat against his mattress. really, is this the man he is? a perverted fool who has inappropriate thoughts and dreams about another man’s wife?

he curses himself, and curses his mind too, as he begrudgingly swings his legs over the edge of his california king and. sleep evades him now, he certainly fears reliving that dream that felt far too realistic, your touches, the taste of you — all far too real that it leaves him shaken. one hand lifts to brush his sweat-matted hair away from his forehead as his eyes disdainfully behold the mess he’s left all over his dark sheets, where his semen sits in a large puddle while there are still drops running down his thighs, and he unwillingly thinks about you once more. those sounds that your voice made in his dream, all those dirty songs and cries of his name that you’d uttered, the way your skin felt so supple and soft beneath his hands as he felt you up and spread your legs apart—

a surprised moan causes wakatoshi to slap a hand around his mouth as his cock twitches in his soiled boxers, still very hard and leaking through the now cold material. no, he decides, he really won’t be able to fall asleep again — not like this, at least. but wakatoshi has practice in the morning, and within all his years of playing volleyball, he’d never gone a night without proper sleep. for the umpteenth time, he groans helplessly, flopping back down on the edge of his bed. he glares at his boner, wishing it would just peacefully deflate and that, really this time, he could forget you and just go back to bed; and again, once again, he sighs, and submits himself to a decision he’s certain that he’ll immediately curse himself for as he pulls out his cock and wraps his fist around it.

he hates himself for it, but it’s so easy for him to build a perfect fantasy of you. one where you’re sitting prettily on your knees and batting those doe-brown eyes up at him through your lashes. his hand squeezes softly around his erection and at first, he moves slowly, choking back each heavy breath of air that threatens to burst through tightly pursed lips. but god, he thinks of the way you’d tease him, slowly tracing your mouth over the tip and leaving a trail of saliva and strawberry flavoured lip-gloss while your manicured nails would trace tantalizingly lines down his thighs. his hips buck impatiently into his own fist and his chest heaves with soft grunts that become more uninhibited as he imagines you finally slipping him into your warm mouth and his very spirit crumbles on the lust that consumes him.

“does that feel good, mr. ushijima?” you’d beseech him, so eager to please as you’d trace your tongue across his leaking slit, collecting the drops of precum that poured out and smear it around your lips. and he’d be just as breathless as he feels in his fantasy, trying and failing to conceal each gasp that evades him as he nods, “yes.. yes, your mouth feels so fucking good.” he’d force you to swallow him whole, pushing your head down to the base until you’d choke and your eyes would water as he’d throw his head back — without his will, his hand moves faster around his cock and fills his dark bedroom with filthy, sloppy noises. “take every inch, don’t you fucking dare spit it out. that’s it, shit…just like that. swallow it all the way down.”

he thinks of how fleshy and warm the back of your throat would feel as you’d gag around him and dig your nails into his thigh, struggling to take even a single breath through your nostrils as he’d mercilessly fuck your face. he’d drag you off him suddenly and slap his cock against those messy lips, and he’d get to admire the way you’d fall apart as your mouth lolls open as if begging him to put it back in. “ohh, such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” he’d taunt, and a particularly loud, wanton moan rises from his chest as he imagines the way you’d use your hands all while staring up at him. you’d be the very picture of salaciousnes as your hands wrap around his smeared length, teasing the underside of him with your tongue and groaning through your own arousal. he imagines how he’d wrap his hand around your throat as he’d tower over you; he’d have your face pressed right up to his stomach while he’d reach down and grab a handful of your breasts, reeling at how soft and squishy they’d feel pouring between his already large hands before he’d twist your nipples, and you’d whine like a helpless nymph from how sensitive your body would become. “go on, then.” he’d hum, and he wouldn’t give you even a second to prepare before he’d have you choking around his length, groaning as spit would bubble around his erection and pour from your nostrils. “use those pretty little lips of yours. mhm, let daddy feel your tongue on his dick while he fucks your throat.”

and its as he pictures the way your eyes would roll into the back of your head, cheeks puffed and stuffed full as you whine around him that, for the second time that night, wakatoshi cums into his fist. pleasure sears through his teeth and down his spine as spurts of semen explode from his slit and he forgets himself on the suddenness of his orgasm. “shit… ahh— aahhhh, shit!” the spots in his vision and the heat that consumes him from his bone and to his skin, it all coalescences on a pleasure he’d never once felt in his thirty-three years of living. his entire body trembles and his cock twitches against his abs, cum splashing against his sweat-sheened skin and dripping over his skin like hot, molten lava. the afterglow of pleasure is forsaken for the adrenaline that courses through his blood and turns the taste of his tongue to metals untold.

through his bliss, wakatoshi reaches clarity, and is overwhelmed by an intense wave of disgust and repulsion as he glares at his cock so feebly slapping against his stomach; it’s still hard, the damn thing, and every cell in his body craves ravenously for more, more, more…but he refuses. absolutely refuses to repeat what he’d just done. for christ’s sake, you are a mother — a wife to someone who you return to each night, who gets to hold you and touch you, to whom you may give your heart and gentle affections to. tonight had been a mistake, he tells himself; an irrational lapse in judgement, and come morning — he means it this time, really! truthfully! — he’ll forget all about this sin, and forget about you. you’ll be nothing more than a new neighbour who moved in with your family, and your interactions will be few and far between, enough that he’ll be forgiven for the immorality that he’d let himself fall to.

but the devil, oh, the devil, bless his soul, he has his tricks, and he loves to play.

wakatoshi hasn’t at all forgotten about the previous night, but he pretends that he has. on the cusp of dawn, when the rising sun sinks her warm fingers through his tousled hair, he focuses on his beating heart and his laboured breath as he jogs through the park and back through his gated community. he pretends that he didn’t jerk off to his new neighbour and envision her doing the dirtiest things to him, and he almost succeeds.

almost.

he nearly swears when he walks out of his front door the next morning and bumps into you at the earliest hours of dawn. there you are, where you shouldn’t be — not this early in the morning before the sun had risen, when he’d made sure to leave early enough that he would’ve avoided this situation exactly. it’s summer, isn’t it? why, wakatoshi wonders, had you woken up so early? could he really be do unlucky? he sees you and your two children, and he’s now certain that they must be twins, and you’re too busy fixing their backpacks on their backs and fussing over their hair and faces to even notice him awkwardly frozen by his doorstep.

“you both have everything you need, right?” your voice reaches him on tones of faint worry and anxiousness as you lean down over your children, unwittingly showing off your rack for him to see between the button up blouse you wear. even from where he stands, it’s such a clear picture that he feels his head spin as his eyes remain glued there. “you’ve got your toothbrushes and toothpaste? lotion? shampoo and conditioner?”

your son, asahi, tries to escape your busy hands, though it doesn’t dissuade you very much it seems. “mama, we already have everything!” he grumbles with a slight pout, “we’ll be alright.”

a quiet sigh falls from your lips as, finally, you relent, kneeling down to hug your two children. “i know you will be, asahi,” you whisper softly before pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “promise me you’ll both be good and have lots of fun, alright? can you send me a text when you get there safely?” both the twins nod their head yes before placing a kiss on either of your cheeks, and wakatoshi finds the sight endearing as he sees your smile brighten on tenderness and motherly affection. a part of him feels as if he’s intruding on what should be a family’s private and treasured moment, something precious that should only be seen by your husband and not the creepy neighbour next door. his stomach turns in on itself and, like a demon he can’t escape, guilt and shame crawl over his neck.

“bye mama!” makoto is the first one to hop on to her bike, waving her hand excitedly and full of energy despite the early morning, while her twin follows in a far less eager manner as he waves at you too. “i love you!”

“i love you mama..!”

“i love you both, you two!” now standing at full height, you wave both your hands as both asahi and makoto start to pedal away. “make sure to have lots of fun!”

before long, both your children have gone down the hill and you’re left alone with a wistful smile, and wakatoshi finds himself desperate to go before you have the chance to notice him standing. his normally sure feet fail him on a moment as he stumbles in his hurriedness, and in his attempt to steady himself, his hands fall slack and drop the very large, very metal he’d bottle been carrying with a loud clang! that causes your head to whip around. he meets your gaze, shame bubbling in his gut and he wishes that lightning would just fall from the sky and take him from his misery. what happened to avoiding you as best as he could? he wonders, what happened to leaving at the crack of dawn and being on his way before he’d need to lay eyes on you again so soon after last night?

wakatoshi is so embarrassed that he could die.

“ah! good morning, mr. ushijima.” you, oblivious to his plight, greet him politely, bowing your head. he notices the way you absentmindedly pull your cardigan over your sheer night dress, the chill from the morning mist having caused you to shiver a little. your nipples have turned hard and poke through the thin white material, and are very, very visible without him needing to try and see them. he purses his lips, sighs through his nostrils and averts his gaze, focusing instead on retrieving his traitorous waterbottle and praying that his grey slacks do well to hide the problem that now begins to grow beneath them.

“good morning, mrs. (l/n.)”

he tries to focus on his feet as he descends down his front steps, ensuring that he doesn’t lose his footing once more rather than looking at you. and yet, he can’t help the awkwardness that he feels as every muscle in his body seems to have tensed up despite him having gone jogging to warm himself up. you remain none the wiser, something he’s thankful for, as he hopes and prays that he can get past you and on his way before you notice his strange demeanour.

“do you normally get up this early?” you ask in a polite attempt at making small talk, to which wakatoshi offers you a slight nod as he gives you just enough of his attention.

“yes,” and, admittedly, he’s also curious, and he returns a question against his better judgement. “do you?”

laughter bubbles up from your lips as you shake your head. “goodness, no!” you chime playfully, lifting your watch to see the hour; 5:39. “it’s too early for me, but asahi and makoto are about to start summer camp for their club — i’d only been seeing them off today.”

he offers an understanding nod, similarly recalling the days of his youth where he’d also attended summer camps during elementary through high school. right now, he considers would be a perfect time to end this conversation and see himself away now that he’s heard what he wanted from you, but something in him urges him to stay, to talk to you more and spend some time with you. he knows he’s not the best at small talk, is all too aware that his social skills are terrible, at their worst, incredibly abysmal, but he wants to try — against his better moment, and he’s reminding himself all the while that you’re a mother and a married woman, but despite that, he wants to talk more with you. perhaps, and it’s a delusion that he forces himself to believe, he’d want to be friendly with you. it’ll certainly be easier than perpetually avoiding you when you’d done nothing wrong to him, after all.

“are you—” fuck, his voice sounds scratchy as he clears his throat, blush creeping over his cheeks. “are you um… headed back to bed then?”

as you ponder his question, he gets to take in your morning appearance. your hair’s been brushed and tied back with a little white bow, and your lips look air brushed and as soft as rose petals. hugging your sides beneath your cardigan, you shiver, and wakatoshi notices the way you slightly lean back and forth on your heels. “i guess it’d be a waste to try and sleep again now,” you hum with your gaze turned towards the horizon, where the sun begins to peak over the far off mountain on soft blue touched by golden hues. “i’ll need to be ready for work in a few hours.” you turn your gaze to him with a cheekish grin, and his heart skips a beat. “why not start my morning now, right?”

oh. oh, this is bad. for the second time, waktoshi tries to clear his throat with a hand covering his mouth and averts his eyes from your beaming face. “i’ll let you get to it then,” he says, his voice sounding so small and timid to him that he feels his mind reeling and his tongue turning heavy. “enjoy the rest of your morning, ms. (l/n).”

“thank you, ushijima-san! you do the same, okay?” for a second, he lets his eyes find yours, and they dazzle him within just that moment that he has to look away. he leaves as you re-enter your home, and it’s the only thing he can do to squeeze the straps of his bag to rid himself of the jittery feeling racking through his spine. his heart beats too loudly and he feels dazed, as if he walks on clouds and forgets how to even breathe.

he doesn’t— no, he can’t be; his feet break from the slow pace as he breaks into a jog, each muscle within him burning cold and begging for release from the thoughts in his mind. there’s no way… he doesn’t like you, does he? why else would he have dreamt of you the way he had? why else would he feel so nervous and timid when you stand face to face? the morning dew tastes like liquid mercury and sets through his veins on a violent rush as he runs, as far away from you as he can get, hoping to immediately expel you from his thoughts, to escape this hold that you seem to have locked around him.

he laughs at himself, helpless and bewildered; is he really nothing more than a foolish boy? at thirty-something years old, ushijima wakatoshi is developing a crush on his married neighbour — even the mere notion to him is so adamantly ridiculous that he could throw himself off a bridge. he feels embarrassed, utterly and completely mortified, and it’s for his sake that he tries to push the notion far, far away, so that, at least for the day, he wouldn’t have to think about it. he suppresses these budding epiphanies in the face of his teammates, who tease him for being seven minutes later than he usually is and tries to ignore the fact that it’s all because he’d stayed and talked with you. he tries to forget about you through the drills and practice rounds, lets the heavy beating of his heart turn its turmoil into adrenaline and sweat that seeps through his thin shirt. wakatoshi falls into routine and this time, certainly, this time, he’s moved on. the feelings that soaked through his core on the early morning’s dawn have disappeared and melted away on summer’s blistering heat, and he thinks that finally, he can let go of that ghost that’s haunted him from the night until morn.

but noon, as it always does, succeeds the dawn, and there you are.

the burn in his muscles turns to a seething fire that he fears will consume him right where he stands, amidst the people around him going about their days while he remains glued in place. his heart, oh the poor thing, it beats on the fallings of a thousand horses and threatens to rip right from between his rips and spill itself out on the pavement. wakatoshi wants to run, he wants to take flight and escape into the burning sun, but his feet fail him on the jolts that run through his aching muscles when your eyes, oh, he imagines he sees the world in them, find his amidst the sea that threatens to swallow him whole.

“ah? mr. ushjimima!” your voice calls out to him a surprise he thinks he feels on tenfold as you approach the man. god, how many hours has it been, even? he’d only just seen you this morning, isn’t it too soon for him to be put through this never-ending crisis? he doesn’t feel as if he’s ready, as if he can look you in the eyes while trying to force away the memories of last night, or the turbulent mess that dances and ties red knots around his throbbing heart. “i didn’t expect to see you here too.”

neither did i, he thinks helplessly, though he offers a single words that sounds choked up in his throat, “practice.”

“oh!” you chime, your eyes gazing behind him to where the large sports gym stays only so many paces behind — if he really wants, wakatoshi could easily pretend that he has to return if only to escape from you, but he doesn’t — for some incomprehensible reason, his tongue betrays him with the phantom taste of you.

“well,” you smile, and laughter spills from your lips as you tuck your hair behind your ear and meet his eyes from behind your lashes. “i didn’t think i’d see you again so soon — and at my place of work, no less.”

i didn’t think i would, either, wakatoshi thinks to himself, and then your words rewind in his mind and everything halts. your place of work? the question spills from his lips before he can even think to stop it. “you work here?”

you nod with a hum, gesturing with your palm to the academic buildings that span the expansive lot. “i teach vocal composition and contemporary piano courses here.”

“ah.” of course. wakatoshi is bewildered; how unlucky could he be? for the married woman he fantasized about to be working at the very same university that his team frequents for volleyball practice? he takes a moment to curse the heavens and the cruel gods within them because certainly, they must find humour in his agony.

like lasers, wakatoshi’s eyes become too hyperfocused on you all at once. there’s sweat gleaming down your neck and dipping between your breasts and trailing wet marks down your v-line as you, absentmindedly, fan at yourself. he takes in the way your eyes scrunch together and your lips part with a heavy breath, a sigh that, to his ears, sounds lewd and filthy, and on that single breath, his world runs like a viscous furnace. he’s like a moth drawn to each and every detail about you that swells on the summer’s heat and as he stands here, everything consumes him — the slight pout of your full, puffy lips, the display of your breasts that look so big that they could pop out of your low button up dress at any second, those big, doe-like eyes of yours that are so close to rolling back beneath the agonizing heat — every bit of you accords into a vision of immeasurable pleasure and lust, and then you look at him, head tilted back and panting ever so slightly, and it’s enough and too much all at the same time.

“it’s awfully hot today, isn’t it, mr. ushijima?”

wakatoshi thinks he’ll lose his mind.

something breaks like a faucet and pours scalding water all over himself as he feels his grey sweats becoming too tight, too confining, just like the situation he finds himself in and he decides that now would be the perfect time to leave. “i have to head back.” he nearly stutters over his abrupt sentence, and he sees the slightly startled look that comes over your sun kissed face. again, he feels guilty for fooling you, for lying straight to those innocently pure eyes that are none the wiser of the effects you have on him. in a pathetic attempt that he doubts you’ll even believe, he tries to dissuade you with a simple, yet suffocated, “practice is gonna start soon.”

“oh, of course!” his lie seems to work, and wakatoshi hopes that the relief that locks inside his throat isn’t too obvious as you turn your feet to the opposite direction. “i didn’t mean to hold you up, i’m so sorry!”

“no, it’s alright.” it’s not, but what is he supposed to say? “i’m sure you’ll need to prepare for your next class soon.”

you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand, and your eyes crinkle at the corners. “you’re right. it was a very nice surprise to see you again, mr. ushijima!”

as he makes his pathetic escape, wakatoshi prays that you don’t find him weird after this, but perhaps if you’d have any inclination of what he’d done, what he’s about to do, would you look at him in disgust? of course you would — he asks himself, how could you not? his feet can’t take him to the secluded gym fast enough as he forsakes everything about himself, purely fueled now by this burning desire that’s carnal in its awakening. the bathroom door locks and the bolt slams with a loud click, the ac languidly blowing through this confined area not nearly enough to quell the fire blazing across his skin. it’s immoral and utterly deprived what he considers doing, and the shame he feels is bound to be an eternal scar. yet in this moment, with his cock so painfully hard and pressing uncomfortably against his thigh, leaking so much precum that it stains through the thick material of his shorts, wakatoshi doesn’t care — not for the ungodliness of the act he’ll commit, nor for the consequences that could follow him. not now, at least. as he releases his throbbing member from its binds and wraps his fists around it, it’s the farthest thing from his mind as he thinks about you. again, it’s you.

the wind in his lungs is knocked out from his mouth as he rapidly pumps his dick. in an instant, the empty bathroom is filled with the squelching noises that bounce and echo off the tiled walls, only contested by his laboured breaths and groans. his knees threaten to lose their ground, and he desperately clutches the cold edge of the sink, the chill consuming his palm almost jarring to the aggressive heat that pours all through him. the image of you with your head tilted towards the sky, of your lips hanging open on salacious cries of his name as he envisions you on top of him, it all drives him to the brink of insanity.

wakatoshi thinks of your body in that tight button up dress blue dress. he thinks of how elegant and put together you looked, the picture perfect woman, and how he wants to tear apart only the top pins open and let your breasts fall out so that he could take them between his lips. how would you sound, he wondered, if he rolled your nipples between his teeth, sucked on them with his tongue until they’d turn hard and perky? would you cry out his name just like you always do? would that sweet voice of yours sing out on torrential pleasure as you’d call out to him, your thighs squeezing around his waist while your hips buck and wriggle over his cock? that innocent façade you wear, how quickly could he make you abandon all reason for desire, until you begged him with your words of honey for him to destroy you?

his fantasy falls apart and rips through him like a comet as cum explodes from his throbbing member and spills through his fingers, ever so narrowly missing his pants and spurting out on the tiled floors. it’s non-stop, this horrible, horrible mess that keeps on growing, his body jolting and knees feeling weak and he struggles to hold himself up because he can’t stop coming, so consumed in his fantasy that the moans he fought so hard to contain now ring freely inside the empty bathroom as his hand continues to milk every drop that jolts out of him. you’re the only thing in his mind, consuming him with hellfire as pleasure winds him up and tears him apart over and over again, and he knows he needs to stop, he’s being too loud, too careless, he could get caught, but god, does this taboo feel so good that he loses control. his depraved mind wonders on you catching him, cumming all over his hands like a depraved beast, all because of you?

there’s a daze that overcomes wakatoshi, heat fading to a warmth that fights for some kind of structure to hold on to as he, breathlessly, leans over the sink. his eyes look down between his legs, the length of his cock still twitching in his palm and cum smeared around it and webbing along his fingers. it doesn’t yet come to him, the reality of what he’s done, and its awakening is slow and steady, until it crashes all around him with the last wisps of adrenaline trickling out of his system. for a long time, he stares at his hands, at the mess smeared in his palm and all over his pants, and he meets his stare in his reflection. he stares, but doesn’t comprehend as a minute becomes two, and then five, and when it’s been far beyond ten, his body flushes over with red-hot embarrassment as he clenches his teeth and drops his head.

wakatoshi, filled with shame, wishes he could throw himself into the sun.

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prosaic-dust-bunny · 1 year

Text

Envy and Jealousy Part 2

Genshin Vignettes Genshin!men x Male reader Characters featured: Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh & Kazuha;

Content: Fluff and a hint of spiciness.

Note: Boy oh boy did I take my sweet time to put this out. I hope you all like it as much as part 1. The problem is never the ideas, but more the time and motivation to actually type it out. Thank you so much for the flood of interactions I really felt the appreciation.

Gorou - The moon was slowly rising in the night sky, and even if your day shift was over, you were still carrying out your duties to the Watatsumi army. Under the sharp overhead lights specific to the infirmary, you were cleaning up the wounds of a novice soldier who had an encounter with a fatui squadron on the north beach of the island. The newly trained soldier's absence was quickly noticed by the general of the Watatsumi army and he was quick to come to his junior aid bow blasing. The man was quickly brought back to you in Bourou village and thankfully most lesions and contusions were superficial. However, the colouration of the soldier’s ribcaged worried you. Gorou stayed to help and brought some water to the unnerved soldier in hope it would help him feel marginally better. You bandaged the now cleaned wounds and proceeded to osculate the soldier, asking him to take deep breaths. Gorou watched your expert hands move the stethoscope to the different areas on the soldier’s back, torso and side, carefully listening to his heartbeat and breathing. With extra care you asked your patient to lie down so you could continue your examination. Your fingers gently palpated the soldier’s ribcage and you cautiously reached the bruised area. Behind you, Gorou watched you intently as you inspected the soldier's torso for internal injuries. You made sure to examine the soldier's traits when you would touch a new area to make sure he wasn’t trying to hide away the pain. Your assured movements were almost hypnotic, but the amount of care you exhibited also made the general yearn for the same treatment. How would you behave if you were to heal him, try to soothe his body or alleviate the pain? Well he already knew since he remembered the numerous times you had patched him up during the war. How you were always concerned regarding how he was pushing the limits of his body. Your hand had applied ointment many times to his wounds - now ashen scars covering his body. Lost in thought, Gorou was brought back to reality when his junior thanked him once more for saving his skin before it got ugly. Gorou reassured him it was nothing and that he would always be there for his troops.

Once the soldier left your infirmary, you took the road leading up the Sangonomiya Shrine where the quarters you shared with your partner were located. Gourou was unusually quiet and after spending so much time with him, you were able to read him better than anyone else. You took his hand and squeezed it lightly making your valiant hound of a lover turn his attention to you. You leaned closer to murmur softly into his ear that you wanted to take care of him tonight, your favourite patient still needed to have monthly check-ups. You could see that your words had an impact because the tip of his ears shuddered, along with his tail which confirmed everything you needed to know. He answered that he would truly appreciate it, but with a determined look he added he wanted to make things fair and reciprocate everything you would do for him. You started with a relaxing midnight bath which led into you tending to his tail’s fur, half naked on your bed while sharing how your respective day went. In that moment of proximity and warmth, you gently kissed each and every scar adorning his body, applying some regenerative lotion after your lips had appeased the skin. Satisfied with your work, you finally kissed his lips. Gourou delicately led you into a different position where you came to be lying down on your stomach, your limbs sprawling across the mattress. He made you blush once he straddled you, which he assured was only to have a better access to your back muscles. Your lover started his massage, relieving you of the stiffness and the discomfort. From time to time he would interrupt the massage only to press himself against your form and enumerate everything he liked about you. Maybe it was his words or maybe it was his body heat combined with yours, but in those moments you wondered if you were going to melt away into oblivion. Once he finished rubbing off any residual tension in your back, he freed you from underneath him. He moved aside to lie down on his side, facing you and started massaging and kissing your overworked, gentle hands, preparing them for your next shift.

Heizou - It must have been at least 3 days since you hadn’t seen Heizou. You knew he was deep in a case and looking at every relevant document from the police station archive, but you still missed him and decided to go see him before going to work at the Yae publishing house. You felt a smidge more house husbandy than usual and decided to cook a serving of radish and fish stew for him. You were aware of how he likes fried food so the warm dish was sure to be appreciated. As a side bonus, the omega-3 contained in the fish would help your boyfriend’s overworked brain. You were at these reflections when you realized your feet brought you to the police station’s main entrance. There, you were greeted by a doushin that introduced himself as Uesugi. He said that you would need to be accompanied to the archive because no civilian could go unsupervised. On the way there you patiently listened to the new recruit gloat on the fact he was only waiting for an exciting case to show everybody how great he was.

When you arrived at your destination Uesugi leaned on the archive room door and commented on the mouth watering smell that was coming out of your neatly wrapped bento. He affirmed that he should be rewarded for coming to your aid and guiding you to the archives. Before you had the time to answer, the door the doushin was leaning against abruptly opened and made him fall to the ground. Heizou came into view and peeked to the man at his feet stating that he was paid to be a public servant and not the other way around. He then mentioned he should get going before Owada, the yoriki of the police station (in other words their superior), noticed his prolonged absence from his post. The scolded man took to his heels and was quickly on his way back, feeling that the glint in Heizou’s eyes wasn’t that amicable. Before you could ask your boyfriend if he was always this way to his kōhai, he pulled you into the archive storage room and pulled you lower so he could kiss you properly. After inquiring about each other's respective last few days, you offered the lunch you had prepared to the detective who opened it as soon as it was in his hands. He took a seat at the nearest table and after a few bites, a string of compliments left his lips only to be halted by the next eager bites. He somehow must have felt that you were about to leave, so he pulled a chair next to him and tapped the seat to invite you over. You explained you had to go to work or you would look like a bad employee. In response he pleaded that he just wanted to spend a few more minutes in your company. You agreed to spend ten more minutes with him, but he would have to accompany you to work and give an excuse to Kuroda.

Itto - Your boyfriend was getting more and more cranky because he hadn’t seen you all day and he was missing you terribly. Itto knew you had prepared this fishing activity with Thoma for weeks, but this was one of those days he wished he could have stayed in bed with you since he wasn’t feeling like his usual bubbly self. How could he predict that not receiving a morning kiss would feel like an arrow pierced his heart. How could he predict that not being able to share breakfast with you would feel like eating his last meal in a cell. He didn’t want to impose, but everything felt so dramatic today of all days. He spent some time with the members of the Arataki Gang, but winning a TCG battle didn’t feel like it should. To make matters worse you probably had the time of your life with that housekeeper twink. No it wasn’t the thing. YOU were making Thoma’s day super great and the one and oni was left aside. Itto was brooding in your shared apartment when he heard the front door open. You were putting away your fishing gear when the oni sprinted towards you and embraced you into a hug. After kissing him on the cheek you told him that Thoma was treating you to dumplings and bubble tea in Ritou and that you would be back later that evening. Itto told you to have fun mechanically, but in a panic he started to ask you the whereabouts of his elusive lucky comb, the location of his favourite drums and asking what he was going to eat for supper. You answered that it was in the bathroom, under the bed and that there was miso soup he could re-heat and some leftover onigiris in the kitchen. Itto watched you decrease in size until you had left his line of sight on the road leading towards Ritou and then closed the door. He was devastated. Maybe you didn’t like him anymore. No he couldn’t doubt you like that, you were the boyfriend of The First and Greatest Head of the Arataki Gang. The one he would put his life on the line if needed. He reheated the miso soup and ate the onigiris. He smiled at the little note you had left him next to the platter. But maybe you were faking your affection with this little note to make things easier for him. No it couldn’t be. Or could it.

Itto was stuck in this very mindspace when you finally returned to Hanamizaka. He heard you come back and announce that you were home, but he didn’t flinch. He heard you make your way to your shared room where you would find him seated upright on the mattress with a blanket covering him. You approached him and teased him asking if he was sulking. You noticed how he refused to look at you, his eyes glued to the wall and if you tried to turn his head towards you he would exert all the strength his neck could exert to make sure he wouldn’t budge. You regained your seriousness and gently told him that if he was giving you the silent treatment he was either trying to make you feel bad or he was trying to signal he wanted to be comforted. One way or the other Itto needed to tell you what was happening for you to help. Your boyfriend finally looked at you and started to cry hugging you and admitted it was a hard day and he didn’t know why but he felt bad all day. You got seated next to him and made him lay his head on your lap. While you twirled his hair between your fingers you asked him to remember the exercises you had done with the wheel of emotions and to take his time to name the emotions he was feeling. He frowned in concentration and stayed silent for a little while. He then said he felt many emotions at the same time. At times he felt jealous, but also abandoned and lastly inadequate because he wanted for you to have fun, but couldn’t control himself to be better. You answered that sometimes even the almighty Arataki Itto couldn’t control his emotions and that maybe it was better to acknowledge and accept them and just let them be for a while and let them wash over him until they didn’t feel so intense.

He scrunched himself against you and hid his face in your lap. You gave him time and he eventually moved to hug you tightly. You then asked him to list 10 things you liked about him. At first the question seemed to puzzle him a bit and he tentatively answered that you liked his smile. You nodded and encouraged him to continue. Each new statement was becoming easier to say. You liked how he didn’t judge you, how he was genuine, how he listened to you, his enthusiasm, how he was helpful, the way he hugged you, how he took care of you and how he was always trying his best. Each thing he was able to find made him feel lighter. Each time you nodded to notify he was right, he got more earnest - smiling brightly. Once he reached the 10th thing you liked about him, he looked at you passionately and opened his arm to draw you in. Once in his arms he started to kiss you fervently, only you could bring him in this state of desire. You two were the perfect pair. How could he have doubted that? You both spent the rest of the night proclaiming your love for each other.

Kaeya - You were tasked by Hertha, Captain of the 6th Company - Logistic, to show the new recruit around since you were one of the most experienced field officers under her. She also knew you had a good work ethic and wouldn’t cut corners while showing the most mundane tasks there were. The new recruit wasn’t exactly your favourite type of colleague. He seemed to care more about the appearances than the efforts needed to back them up. You blamed it on his nervousness, he probably tried to play the tough guy as a way to hide his nervousness. You spent most of your day teaching him the basics, but as the good senior that you were you also instilled in him the sense of why the 6th company was important for the knights. The charter and administration of baggage train, resource management and record-keeping weren’t exactly glamorous tasks, but they were still cogs in the machine that is Ordo Favonius. You also introduced him to the other personnel he would work with, Noelle as a representative of the maids, Lisa who helped with bookkeeping, etc. You then left the library and headed to the office of the quartermaster. As you found the office empty, you concluded your presentation of the Knights of Favonius and indicated he would be appointed to a regular task and schedule tomorrow morning. He thanked you for your help. He seemed to hesitate to leave, and you raised an eyebrow, wondering if he still had any questions. He decided to shoot his shot and put on his bravado once again. He leaned towards you and asked you if you were going to invite him for a drink since you were so obviously pining after him. You couldn’t help yourself, but to burst into laughter, effectively turning the proud expression of the recruit into a meek one. You told him you only did your job and that he didn’t receive any special treatment. Obviously vexed, the man cut his losses and turned around to leave the quartermaster office.

Kaeya came into view and blocked him from retreating. With a devilish smile, Kaeya introduced himself offering his hand out, cold air seemingly coalescing around the recruit who extended his hand only to be caged into the other’s grip. After ending the rigid handshake, Kaeya mentioned he occupied the role of Cavalry Captain and quartermaster, but more importantly he was ‘his’. The recruit babbled that he didn't quite understand. Kaeya took the expression of a patient teacher and explained that he had the utmost honour of being able to call the man beside them - you, his beloved partner. The recruit understood all but too late that he had made a move on someone that was already taken. He bowed his head several times, apologizing to the both of you while hastily leaving the office. You looked at the pleased expression plastered on Kaeya’s smile and could only snicker to yourself. Kaeya came closer to you and asked what was so funny. You answered coyly that you didn’t know that ‘being his’ was one of his titles. Kaeya answered that he was serious when he said that it was his honour to be yours. Kaeya had closed the distance between you and him and looked intently at you while you tried to chase away your chuckles to remain impassive. He softly reached out to hold your chin up and asked if he may. You agreed and he started to kiss you passionately. Each time he would take his breath, he would mumble ‘yours’ to your ear. Sometimes he would say it shyly and sometimes like a one word statement; changing tone each time you were catching your breath from the passionate kiss. His voice was now a faint whisper, and he let out one last ‘yours’. However this time he clearly denoted the question that was hidden in the word - like followed by an implicit question mark. You smiled and said he was yours as much as you were his. You left the office bickering lovingly at each other and in the following weeks you noticed that Kaeya was more keen on holding your hand whenever you were out in public.

Kaveh - For once you were lucky and had the opportunity to leave the Akademiya early for the day. You had made plans with your boyfriend Kaveh for the evening and took a chance to pass by his place, maybe he would’ve finished his day early as well. The grey clouds above your head suddenly let out the rain they were carrying, as you made your way through the overpass and archways leading you down from the House of Daena. You soon reached the familiar yet impressive house decorated by many stained glass windows. You knocked at the door and you were soon invited in by the Akademiya’s scribe himself. Al Haitham offered for you to wait for Kaveh here since he shouldn’t take too much time to come back home. The scribe then disappeared in the kitchen to boil some water and make some tea while you made sure none of the books in your backpack were damaged by the rain. You put out an aged tome treating of ancient runes on the table to make sure there was no humidity that would linger in between its pages. Al Haitham came back with two cups of mint tea and commented on the book you had brought out. You mentioned you were trying to understand the scripture you had stumbled upon in some Dahri ruins and that you were currently trying to translate it, but it was no easy task. Al Haitham offered his help and you were amazed by his translating skills. After taking some notes and promising that you would get back to him to notify him of your research advancement, the conversation slowly moved on to your respective Darshans, yours being Vahumana - history and social sciences, and his being Haravatat - linguistic and semiotics. Kaveh entered the house as you were talking about the benefits of multidisciplinary research units, especially in your two fields of study. You paused to greet Kaveh and he stole you a kiss before eyeing scornfully his roommate. He excused himself, saying he needed to change his clothes - something about being less formal and more comfortable. You continued your conversation while packing your things in your bag to be ready when your boyfriend would come back.

Kaveh came back looking even more exquisite than you had expected with richly decorated garments and accessories. Your boyfriend was a sight to behold. He walked directly towards you and offered his hand to help you stand up. Kaveh simply stated that Al Haitham shouldn’t wait up as you would spend the night out. Kaveh escorted you outside and took the direction of your favourite restaurant. Although he was all smiles while inquiring about your day you halted and asked him if there was something bothering him. He knew he couldn’t hide anything from you as you were the one that read him best. He asked if you were going to do a joint research with Al Haitham since you get along with him so well and that your Darshans were closely related. He went as far as to mention that if he was going to have the house to himself at the cost of you bringing Al Haitham with you in some ruins he didn’t want the empty house at all. You reassured him that you didn’t view Al Haitham as someone you would want to pursue a professional endeavor with (nor a romantic one). You just happened to have similar academic interests and that he knew about some runic language you wanted to decipher. You resumed walking in the direction of the restaurant, but felt Kaveh still harbored some negative feelings. You squeezed his hand and mentioned you were thinking about writing a paper on the architectural style of the Dahri ruins you were currently investigating. Kaveh perked up at your words waiting to hear the rest. Having his attention on you, you asked him if he would like to accompany you during your next expedition. After all, Al Haitham wasn’t the only one with whom you could do a multidisciplinary research project. Kaveh knew how much you value and enjoyed your expeditions and the fact you invited him meant a lot. He asked if you were suggesting this idea only because he was jealous, to which you answered that you had planned to ask him for a while, but you didn’t have any good opportunity to do so. He bashfully lowered his head and said he would really enjoy coming with you. He hugged you tight and you were back on your way to the restaurant, Kaveh asking you about your day once more.

Kazuha - The Alcor and its crew had been quite on demand during the last few months. Different commissions took the crew all over the seas of Teyvat and Beidou was able to strike plentiful commercial deals with important actors of the trading business. As a reward the beloved captain decided to hold an evening celebration including a feast and some music on the side. You and your partner were able to eat to your heart's content, you couldn’t decide if you had preferred the Golden Shrimp Balls or the Lotus Flower Crisp. Your partner was delighted by the Stir-Fried Fish Noodles to which you took a mental note to try and get the recipe from Xinyue Kiosk. You weren’t sure your cooking skill would be enough to recreate the dish, but you were confident that Kazuha would appreciate it anyway. Kazuha suddenly stood up from beside you and kissed your temple before getting to the small stage in front of the dining area. It wasn’t a stage like the one Yun Jin or Xinyan, but more a cozy little platform that could accommodate solo artists. Kazuha took out his zitar and started playing a tune, sometimes humming along with the melody. After a few minutes of rehearsal and warming up, the beat morphed into something livelier and fast paced. Soon the tables were out of the way and the crewmate made their way on the newly formed dancefloor. You were softly gazing at your boyfriend’s finger brushing against the cords of the zitar when a big hand landed on your shoulder. Taken by surprise you turned around and none other than Suling - the Alchor’s chief smith, came into view. For once it seemed the ironworker had his mind off the maintenance of the weaponry. He offered you a dance to which you accepted after looking at the concentrated yet elated expression on your lover's face. You stood up and joined the others on the dancefloor and let the notes carry you around, guiding your movements. You didn’t expect Suling to be such a good dancer and paired with Kazuha’s music, time really flew by. The moon was now high above you and you requested a break, going back to sit at the dinning table to bring some relief to your legs. You accepted the cup of tea Yinxing offered you to rehydrate yourself. As you were drinking the liquid, Kazuha finished the last notes of the tune he was playing and everybody cheered for him. Kazuha came beside you and asked for you to follow him. As exhausted as you were, you managed to get up and Kazuha pulled you aside to a more secluded area where he leaned his elbow on the wooden railing of the Alchor. You felt the salty air on your face and Kazuha’s finger running on your arm. you turned to face him and asked him if he was bothered that you had danced with Sulin; each time you had checked on him you couldn’t meet his gaze, but he always harbored a soft smile on his lips. Kazuha chuckled and answered that in the end he was the one that really made you dance so it didn’t matter in the slightest. However he got closer to your ear and asked you if you would have preferred him as a jealous boyfriend. His traits kept an enigmatic demeanour and before you could answer he pulled you towards your shared quarters. If Kazuha isn’t the one to fall subject to jealousy, he still dedicated all those songs to you while longing to have you in his arms.

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sunny-fox · 10 months

Text

Pet! SAHSRAU (part 3)

Reader's pronouns: -

Warnings: possible out-of-character, mentions of blood & amputation (Herta)

Notes: reverse isekai, characters turn into animals, Herta Space Station Crew

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Rough Collie! Asta who is energetic...at night. She loves sitting by windows / glass doors and staring at the starry night sky. Sometimes she holds your hand gently between her teeth and drags you along to watch the stars with her at midnight. Asta nudges you when you start to fall asleep - she doesn't want you to miss out on the beauty of the stars. Welt or Himeko will come chide her gently for making you stay up late, then lead you back to your room. Asta will follow them reluctantly and curl up next to your bed, wishing you a silent goodnight before falling asleep.

Birman! Herta who has prosthetic limbs. You found her by the road two streets away from your home, legs bloodied, barely conscious. You figured that she might've gotten hit by a car. The vet told you that they had to amputate her legs as her wounds were badly infected. Herta still remembers the devastated look on your face when you pressed your hand against the glass of her cage at the hospital, glancing at her paw-less limbs with tears trickling down your cheeks; the relief when you finally saw her walking steadily with prosthetics, crying tears of joy this time. Though she isn't as agile as the other cats due to her prosthetics, Herta uses them to her advantage - she meows at you when she wants to get onto tables or couches, and you'll pick her up to put her on them. Herta just can't resist giving the others a smug look when you cradle her in your arms.

Sable ferret! Arlan who guards you from pest insects. You see him swatting at mosquitoes with his front paws or chasing after spiders nearly every day. Arlan doesn't listen when you tell him that you can deal with them yourself - he believes that he has to protect you. Only when you held him up so you were face-to-face with him and repeated yourself did he listen...partially. Two weeks later he actually forgets what you had said and continues to catch the bugs. Arlan likes to dig holes in your garden and dirty his fur. You scold him as you wipe him clean (ferrets can't bathe too often), but maybe, just maybe, you'll notice that he's enjoying your attention and the soft tone you're using.

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Forgot to mention this in the previous parts but somehow reader is unaware that they are all those characters from HSR they love (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

Jarilo-VI characters are next!

#sahsrau #self aware honkai star rail #hsr herta #hsr asta #hsr arlan

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scarlettsandmaroons · 1 year

Text

all the love we unravel | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter ten | chapter eleven: (didn't choose the) midnight rain

chapter summary: while most people would have to be dragged back down to reality from their fantasies, you'd gotten enough of that. so you step down to reality yourself.

warnings: fluff; more natasha and reader fluff, billy being a big drunk baby, wanda being a sweetheart. angst; cheating, a little anxiety (if you squint), minimal guilt.

a/n: look at me posting twice in one week. who would've thought i'll ever be capable of doing such thing! also, the series is ending which makes me sad a bit. we're a few chapters away!

you stumbled on the pavement, looking back at natasha who's hand your were holding loosely on yours. "shhhh," you giggled.

she didn't shush. in fact, your attempts at being silent only made her laugh harder.

you jumped between shushing and laughing even as you stepped onto your porch, and especially when you were crammed between the small space between the walls where the door was and she was fumbling for her keys to open it.

you were a little bit drunk, you will admit. while she wasn't, she couldn't help but laugh at your antics, at every thing you do so clumsily.

it was 8pm. it was dark, and silent, and the roads were empty, and not one house-old from your block had their lights on. something about going home felt wrong. like you were sneaking back in after sneaking out at midnight to go drinking. like you just missed your curfew, and now you're trying your hardest to not get caught as you re-enter the house.

"natasha, you have to be really really quiet," you remind her hazily when she finally pushed the right key in.

"i'm not even talking!" she protests in a whisper, but you only hold a finger against her lips.

"shhhhh!" you silenced. "be quiet and do it carefully."

her gaze remains on you. then she smiles through your pressed finger.

click.

the door unlocks, but she doesn't quite open it yet. instead, she pushes through your finger and kisses you despite your index in between your lips. "i love you," she says through a muffled whisper.

you silenced her with another shh.

then she turns the knob, and all your weight pushes the door open, making you stumble through but she quickly takes hold of your arm to pull you back to her before you fell head first to the floor.

"careful there," she whispers.

"natasha, dear, is that you?"

blood left your face. you mind spun back to reality, reason and truth grasping your brain tight instead of the blissful fog that hugged it moments ago. you pushed yourself away from her. she didn't let you go, she never does, never by choice too. her body clings onto you the same way her heart holds onto every fiber of your being. she couldn't.

but you always made sure to push twice, if not thrice as hard. you always made sure you'd be far far away from her, so far that you'd forget you were even close to her in the first place.

you ended up near the stairs where natasha emerged from. "oh, y/n!" she greets happily. "you look famish," she tells you, her hands quickly coming to fix your hair, then caress your face, then lead you to the dining room. "come, i made you food!"

you were stiff against wanda's arms. feeling a gush of guilt wash through your body when you saw a feast spread out on what usually was a two-dish maximum dinner table.

"oh, you didn't have to—"

"oh come on, just sit. you two have been gone for a week. i missed my girls," she tells you. pushing you to your seat while she moves around the table to hers. "being alone with billy drove me crazy. i forgot how it was to only live with that spoiled boy," she humors.

while she went on, natasha was right next to you, absentmindedly pulling out your chair for you to sit on, but you swat her hand from your seat and subtly pushed her to hers in the process of sitting down.

you got to shoot her a sharp glare which she caught on, realizing that she'd forgotten, just before wanda sat in front of you. she got your plate, beginning to put a bit of everything on it. while she goes on to asking you what you did.

you let natasha speak, naturally. you always let her speak. you would've stumbled for words, stuttered, slip. you could never lie. you couldn't even look at wanda when natasha does it for you.

might be a little hypocritical considering you tolerate natasha's constant need for touch, and kisses, even if it means doing it where wanda can so easily see.

"sounds like you two really bonded, huh?" wanda smiles. "you're stealing my only daughter away from me, nat."

you only noticed when she handed you the plate how all of it were vegetable dishes. barely any meat, just different vegetables cooked different ways.

you were never a fan of vegetables. in fact, you hated them growing up, not that you were forced to eat them, you just simply didn't like them. but wanda made it, for you.

you accepted the plate with a smile, but natasha quickly snatched it from your fingertips before wanda had even fully let go.

"looks good, hun," she says, and you only stare at her with almost wide-eyed confusion matching wanda's.

"natasha!" her wife scolds. "that's rude," wanda looked at you with a smile. "don't worry dear, i'll fix you another plate."

you wanted to say no. you were praying she wouldn't. how could you possibly hide the way your face contorts when you put a piece of it inside. what would you say if she notices your quickened munching, and immediate sip of water.

you could hear natasha and wanda having an exchange. wanda smiling at something natasha said, and sliding into a cute little argument still with endearments, and a flirtatious smile. you noticed that over the sudden ringing in your head when your mind filled with overlapping voices of whatever you could possibly say if wanda notices the way you stop your breathing when you put a piece of broccoli in your mouth.

"i'm sorry i just don't like vegetables, but i am fucking your wife."

how could you possibly decline the woman who offered you her home, who offered you a family, a real shot at having a normal life; a woman whose wife you're fucking.

"y/n sweetheart, are you okay?"

the world clears, and a snap from wanda's fingers was enough to silence your thoughts.

"sorry what?"

wanda's face was scrunched, worried. "are you okay, dear? you seem to be a little out of it today. did something happen?" she asks. "natasha says, you'd already eaten."

"no, i—," you looked away. "i'm just a little tired, that's all."

wanda smiles. "well, that's a sign that you two had a good time, isn't it?"

"i think y/n could say we had the best time," natasha adds in, taking a sip of her water.

"well, not that either of you asked. but billy and i had a great time too."

billy.

"oh, don't you wonder where billy is, dear?"

you were so worried about wanda, you'd forgotten about billy.

"oh i—," you stuttered for words. you know is bound to steal from you wanda's attention yet again, but she's saved far too many times tonight. she spoke for you the entire time. wanda would pick up on it. "i just figured he might still be studying for his exams."

you knew it when you said it.

"his exams were three days ago, dear."

this is why natasha speaks for you.

"had you not been talking to him on the phone?" she questions.

you knew that. he told you before you left.

"reception."

"her phone broke."

your eyes instinctively wanted to look at natasha, but you resisted. silently cursing yourself for the way you and natasha said two different things at exact time.

"nat was messaging me just fine though. did you really not have reception?" wanda asks. "we even call everyday."

"did we?"

"we did."

the time you could've spent thinking for an excuse was instead spent on repeating, "natasha was messaging me just fine" in your head, over and over again.

you couldn't expect her not to. but you'd never once seen natasha on her phone. you never saw her text, or call. sure, once, you saw her typing. maybe even twice. but she never told you. she hid it from you. why would she?

was the secret of you two fucking behind her wife's back not enough for her to tell you that she's messaging her wife on the week you were meant to get away from her.

she was yours, that week. just yours, solely yours. except, you find out, she wasn't. she was still wanda's even away.

"my phone broke. something's wrong with the way it gets reception now," you save yourself. "where's billy?"

"he's out with tommy. tommy's in town for the weekend, so they went to a pub," you stand up abruptly which startles wanda. "wait, i—"

"well, i should get going then," you say.

"but you just go home, dear."

"and i can't wait to see my boyfriend. i'm sure mrs. romanoff can't want to spend some alone time with her wife too," you spare a glance at natasha, seeing the visible urge to stop you. "not that you haven't been doing that on the phone."

"y/n, sit back down," natasha calls.

you smile at her on your wait out. "i don't think i will, mrs. romanoff," you tell her.

"sit. down."

"oh let her go, natty. she wants to be with her boyfriend. she's gotten sick of you," wanda interjects. "go on, dear. i'll text billy you're coming."

"she's drunk wanda!" natasha reasons then returns her eyes on you. "sit, the fuck, down."

"what's with this hostility, nat? she's a teen who's been away from her boyfriend for a week. let her go," wanda scolds, looking at you then mouthing a soft, "go."

that was your cue. you left completely disregarding the pair of eyes that you physically feel bore into your body. you called for a cab, your phone was fine. the missed calls from the last few days you intentionally missed popped on your screen. as well as the messages you did not even once open.

you found billy in the pub near your university. at 9pm, it was only him and tommy, and another person sitting alone.

you feel a sense of disappointment, searching for any signs of green in the brown eyes that met yours from across the room. he waved his hand, waiting for you to reach them. he continued his conversation with tommy until you sat on the chair next to him and flashed his twin a small smile.

it felt different. it was always different. he was always different. he wasn't natasha.

at some point, billy slid you his bowl of nachos when he adjusted himself to have his arm on the back of your seat. not once throughout the entire evening did he talk to you though. or look at you. he acknowledged you were there at least, whispering a small hi when you took a seat before returning back to his conversation. tommy would say something to you from time to time. but nothing that really involved you.

after what seemed like hours, the two finally stood up to give each other a brotherly hug. tommy went off first, billy sat back down finally looking at you for the first time.

he stares at you, his elbow on the table and his hand supporting the head the was on it. "i missed you," he says through a small smile.

you could smell the alcohol through his breath. he was drunk. he never seems like it sitting down , but you know it'll only worsen from here. "i missed you too," you whisper.

"i'm sorry i wasn't paying attention to you," he frowns. "i was catching up with tommy. and i know you hate pda."

something in your skin crawls, you weren't sure why. but you smiled nonetheless, "let's go home."

"y/n can i sleep with you?" he asks abruptly.

in fact, he kept asking you that although out the ride home. and when you were trying to carry his heavy body over the pavement, and up the porch.

you fumbled for your keys, struggling with carrying his weight. you pushed the door open, and came out was a loud groan from your boyfriend. "i want to sleep with you, y/n," he tells you hazily.

you stood him up straight, still supporting his body through a hand on each shoulder.

"you're drunk, billy," you tell him.

"just a little bit."

"no. by a lot bit," you correct. "you know you're a lightweight. why would you even drink."

"just beer."

"i don't care."

he closes his eyes, a smile drawing his lips before he opened his arms wide and trapped your body in his warmth. "oh i missed you, y/n," he tells you. squeezing your body while rocking you side to side like a kid with a friend. "and my mums love you," yeah, differently. "and i love you. and mommy said she'd disown me if i ever hurt you. and i looooove you, y/n."

your heart ached.

"i love you too, billy," you whisper.

once, in first grade, you were the shy kid who nobody would talk to in the playground. billy came up to you, handed you a lollipop, and asked you if you wanted to be his friend. you said yes, and he took you in his arms, squeezed your body while rocking you side to side, shouting to the world that he "loooooooves" his new friend.

tommy made him cry moments after that.

but you like to think that billy has never let go ever since. even thought sometimes, he suffocates you.

"it's 1am. i thought we've established your curfew being 11pm, billy."

you quickly stumbled out of billy's hold, the man being too dazed off to even notice his mother leaning against the arch of the kitchen in a pink robe and a glass of wine.

"hi momma!" he says cheerfully, going on for a hug but natasha tuts.

"you're drunk. go upstairs," she tells him.

the man frowns like a child who had just been told he's leaving the playground, "yes, momma...," he drags out. slowly making his way to the staircase before he got a glimpse of you again. "i'm sleeping with y/n today! yay," he says before hurrying upstairs.

you cleared your throat, aware of natasha's sharp glare though you pretend to take no notice, eyes still on the staircase though billy was no longer on it.

"and you," you hear her say, chills immediately running down your spine. "i told you not to leave, hadn't i?"

this would either end in sex, or a hard cold lecture. you were hoping for neither. you couldn't possibly, not when the last thing you told billy was you loved him. and when a pulse from a headache is beating in your head.

"well, i am a grown adult," you tell her. your eyes on the floor now, while your hands take its time searching for the back pocket of your pants to put your keys in.

you hear her take a few steps towards you. and then warm hands snatches your chin to look at her, nails digging to your skin. "well, a grown adult should be able to look at me straight in the eye, don't you think?"

her green eyes were dark, and her jaw clenched. you were silenced by the way she looked down on you, almost condescendingly with how you disobeyed her direct orders.

she dragged you to the kitchen, carrying you to sit on the island which you take no time protesting in. she would never be swayed by your protests. she never hears them.

but she does, however, have a very good sense of reading you. she picks up on the little things, on your routines, she notes your mannerisms. she knows you, and it scares you how much you hadn't told her yet she knows about you.

so when she saw the way your eyebrows drop the moment she cornered you, the way your breath didn't hitch, but instead only searched for more ways you can breathe in much much deeper, she knew what you needed wasn't sex, or a lecture. you just needed a break.

of course, you didn't know she knew that. your eyes followed her around the kitchen as she prepared something which you assumed would be something that would correlate to her fucking your senselessly, or maybe a snack she'd serve you as a side for her long lecture.

"natasha, i'm just really—"

"i know," she interrupts, handing you a glass of some green colored liquid, uncovering the mess she's made behind her. "drink."

"what's this?"

your face scrunched to form wrinkles when you got a whiff of the juice. it could've been nothing else but green vegetables. and you couldn't. but before you could even set down the glass, natasha grabs it from you, takes a drink, and pulls you by the neck to smash your lips against hers.

you could feel the liquid enter your mouth, and she felt your lips twitch almost in silent protest, but she refused to let you go. the expected bitterness wasn't there, instead, you tasted the wine that coated her lips, and the honey from her saliva.

you swallowed it, but you didn't pull away. you pulled her, kissed her, this time even deeper. your tongue smoothly slipped into her mouth, her saliva coating your tongue. you explored her mouth, then her lips, searching for the sweetness of honey, and the wine, and every taste of her.

she softly pulls away, catching her breath. and then she looks at you, "i didn't know you had it in you, y/l/n," she tells you.

"if you'd let me, i would so do a great job at dominating not just our kiss," you pull her back to you by her arms, wrapping your legs around her waist, and setting your arms on her shoulders. "i think i'd be great at dominating you in bed."

"is that so?" she challenges. "but you can barely look at me, baby. how can you ever."

"blindfolded."

she snickers. holding you now by the waist, and looking up at you again. "were you mad at me?" she asks. "for what wanda said?"

you look away, pulling yourself slightly further to give yourself the space to think, and process stepping into a more serious conversation.

"i'm just—"

her hold on your waist became a full on hug. "you can't possibly be mad at me for something i—"

you wrapped your arms around her head tighter, less like how it was loosely hanging earlier. "i know, nat. i get it. i just—," you take a deep breath, then you looked away. "i didn't do that with billy. i didn't answer any of his calls, or opened his messages because i thought... i want to be just yours for a week. not billy's... yours."

"but i am yours. even when we're here, or school. i'm yours, i'm yours only."

"no you're not. you're wanda's wife," you move away again, allowing more air to be in between you two.

but she pulls you against her again. "but you're the one i think of to sleep. you're the one i kiss. you're the one i touch. you're the one i hold. you're the one i make love to," she narrates slowly, looking up at you. "you're the one i love. i... am... yours."

"are you?"

"every part of me, everything that i am, is yours," your heart melted. so did you. your body relaxed against her hold. your forehead resting on hers before she speaks again. "so tell me. why didn't you answer billy?"

"i told you. i wanted to be just yours."

"wherever you are, you're mine, dear. you can be anywhere in the world with billy, and you'll still be mine," you look away. unable to meep her gaze. "but i think, you just love me."

you giggled a little, leaning back with your arms supporting you weight on the counter. "you think?" you ask almost teasingly.

"you know, i never heard you say you loved me."

"i'm waiting for our first year anniversary. i want it to be like a grand gesture—"

"should be today. it's almost 2am," she points out. "but that's not it."

she was insisting. and you just sighed. you sit back up, taking the glass of green juice and finishing what turned out to be really sweet, and yummy.

and then you look at her. she's still waiting.

"i.... it's wrong nat. what we're doing," you fiddled with your finger through the glass you were holding. "you left your wife upstairs, and i left her son, my boyfriend to sleep on my bed alone, so we can kiss in the kitchen at 2am. so we can do all sorts of secret things that are wrong."

"i think we did worse things than kiss secretly in the kitchen."

"and that's what i'm saying," you say, sliding off the counter. "wanda offered me a family to save me from my own. she treated me like her own daughter, she's paying for my everything. and billy, i always loved billy... he's always been my family, and i—i'm betraying them to—for you."

"do you love me?" she says abruptly.

you hesitated. you know you shouldn't. there was one straight answer. "if i say it, then i'll only confirm the feelings i shouldn't be having for you in the first place."

"do you... love me?" she pulls you towards her when you move to the sink to set your glass inside. "look me in the eye and tell me what you feel."

she trapped you between her and the counter. she had her hands on either side, holding you against the counter, her face inches form yours.

you hold her face in your hands. "i love you so much, it hurts me."

"then runaway with me," she blurts out. "i'll divorce wanda, and we can make this right. we can be together. we can runaway."

your heart dropped. "what?"

"let's run. we can move to new york, or california. away from westview, away from new jersey."

you couldn't think. your mind was foggy to the point that no coherent thought passed through. "natasha i—"

"you can study in ucla. i can get you in," her eyes were straight, her breathing controlled. she thought about it. she knows. she's serious.

"natty, i don't think ucla will let me in. you did fail me first semester last year."

"oh, i can get you to harvard even. don't worry," she assures. but that doesn't really eases you.

"then what will you do?"

"anything i want. i can get a job anywhere," she smiles, noticing the uncomfortable position she's put you through so she moves away to allow you to breath. "i don't think you've seen my resume."

"nat, how about money, and—"

"you possibly can not think we'd ever have problems with money," she says, moving to the counter in front of you and leaning against it with her arms crossed against her chest. "we can get married when you graduate, then we'll figure it out from there. you can work anywhere, and i'll support you. we can travel the world, we can—"

"natasha..."

you move towards her this time, trapping her between your body and the counter behind her.

she holds either hands with hers, looking ay you with pleading eyes. "sweetheart, we can move to an apartment near your school. an apartment for just the two of us. then i'll drive you to then pick you up from school. we can go on dates, we can..." she paused. "you can live your life, you can do whatever you want. and you can be with me. we can be together," she was insisting, urging, pushing. "then we'll settle in norway, have a kid, build a family..."

"i can't..." you whisper.

"but you said you loved me......"

something broke inside you. the image of the family you'd build with her, the life. the feeling of how true all of that can be, and realizing you can't have that. what's in front of you, what's holding you. that you can't choose that. it broke you.

"loving you is already wrong enough. if i runaway with you, i betray wanda, and billy. i betray my family, your family," your heart ached. "wanda and billy are very dear to me."

"dearer than i?"

"...no. not dearer than you. never dearer than you," something hugged your chest, tightly. something choked it to a point where you can barely breath. "but they're dearer than me. they mean more to me than i mean to me," you see the light inside her eyes disappear, the same way you feel you getting farther from the life you wished you'd have. "natasha, i could never choose myself over them."

"but how about me?"

tears started running down your face. you weren't sure where they came from. you never felt them coming. but they were there.

hearing her plead for you. the very woman who would die before you see beg, the very woman who never asks, never cries. not in front of you, not in front of anyone. seeing the way her eyes held onto every hope, every love you have for her. it hurts you.

"natasha..." you whisper. unable to get anything past the lump in your throat. "natasha, you're asking me to choose over you and your family. over you and billy."

"why can't you choose?" her voice cracked.

but you stayed strong. you held her hands firmly no matter how much it sweats, and shakes. "because i grew up with a mother who chose everybody over me. who chose her boyfriend, and drugs, and everything else over me," you tell her softly. "i will never let billy have the same mother i did. a mother who didn't choose him. and i will certainly not let you be that mother. not to my bestfriend, natasha. not to billy," you say. "and i refuse to be the reason you don't choose him."

you wiped your tears, letting go of her hand, preparing to leave. "im sorry, i can't...," you turn away.

"so what now?" but she stops you in your tracks.

if you left before she asked, you could've woken up the next day pretending that none of this ever happened. that you were just as happy as you were five minutes ago. that you're still together, even in secret. you could've thought about it. you could've been okay.

"what?"

"what are we now?" she asks again.

you cleared your throat, looking back at her hopefully with less sadness than there is love. "people who refuses to hurt the people they love," you say shakily.

"but you're hurting me..."

"and i'm sorry."

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luvgavii · 1 year

Text

allie to his noah. / pablo gavi.

request: hiii, can you maybe do a late night dancing with gavi or some sort of that? btw your fics are really cute!!

author's note: hi hun, thank you sm for your request, i hope you love it as much as i do. 💘

summary: tonight, you and gavi shared a moment that almost felt like it was taken out of 'the notebook'.

Celebrating your one year anniversary in your hometown, you and your golden boy decided it would be nice to go out to the best restaurant in town, all dressed up.

After having the night of your life, food, and a lot of wine, you two decided to head back shorty after midnight to your parents house, where you two were staying before going back to Barcelona.

You held his hand while walking outside, the cold air finally hitting your face making you less dizzy from all the wine.

"You okay, amor?" Gavi asked you worried after he saw you enjoying the light breeze with your eyes closed.

"Yeah, of course. Hey, there should be a taxi station a few blocks down the road, wanna walk there? I'm not drunk it would just refresh me." You giggled a little before taking his hand, Gavi following after you, smiling from ear to ear.

A few minutes later, you looked up at the stars letting go of his hand and taking a few steps, the night sky being covered in stars that were shining in the moonlight.

"Isn't the sky so beautiful tonight?" You stopped in the middle of the road after making sure there were no cars coming.

Gavi followed you, stopping next to you and looking up, "It really is." He said, finally looking back at you.

He knew that what he was going to say would be extremely cliché but he also knew you would love it.

"Dance with me." He held out his hand to you.

You looked at his hand and then back at him, realizing you were in the middle of the street just like Allie and Noah were from one of your favorite movies. 'The Notebook'.

Smiling, you took his hand and followed his lead, slow dancing in the silence, touching foreheads.

"You know, Noah sang in this scene." You laughed a little at the face he made, Gavi definitely wasn't the best singer, but you still loved it when he would sing to you. Sometimes he would sing to you while you were cooking, or before falling asleep while he was playing with your hair.

To many people Pablo Gavi was no one but a football player with anger issues who couldn't control himself, but to you he was the most perfect human being, you loved being the only one he showed this side to, but even so, he always showed his love to you to your followers on social media.

Just like that, without another word, Gavi started to shyly hum your favorite love song, the streetlight and moon illuminating your beautiful features and making your eyes shine brighter than any star in the sky.

A few minutes later, after Gavi stopped humming and you stopped dancing but not letting go of him, you pulled him into a kiss.

A kiss so full of love that you never wanted it to end.

"Can we watch 'The Notebook' when we get to my parents?" You laughed while pulling away from the kiss.

"You will the death of me, woman." Gavi laughed, you made him watch that movie with you a few days after you started to officially date, turning it into a tradition and watching it on every monthiversary that followed leading up to this moment.

And even if he wasn't the biggest fan of romantic movies, he always watched them with you, and every time he would see the two fictional characters falling in love, he would see you two.

It was crazy how in love he was with you. And Gavi knew he would always do anything for you. Out of every fictional couple, he liked Allie and Noah the most, because Noah was as in love with Allie as Pablo was in you. He knew you were the Allie to his Noah.

But even if you weren't Noah and Allie, you were Pablo and Y/N, and there was nothing more beautiful than that.

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h0unds-of-h3ll · 1 year

Text

Baby hotline

You’ve been talking to a man who calls himself big daddy for over a month now, he calls every night to talk to you. Some conversations are wholesome whereas some lead to sin. When he calls you tonight you wonder which it shall be.

Big daddy! Elvis x call girl! reader smut.

Word count: 3k.

Warnings: Descriptive talk of sex. Mutual masturbation, fingering and jerking off. Explicit detail, graphic imagery. Hint of stalking. Innocence and corruption kink. Daddy kink. Talk of prostitution. Smoking and language. Talk of unprotected sex and cream pies. Age gap of 20 years. Heavy sexual themes. Mature.

A/n: Based around 1975, Elvis is a lonely pervert looking for young 🐱.

The silk curtains were tied in the middle as you pushed them aside. The large window in the hotel room overlooks the dark alleyway of Hollywood Boulevard. A few lights were scattered throughout the building across from where you stood. Traffic was slow and the people were scarce. Cars are parked by the sidewalks. Most are Volkswagens. The block you stayed on was occupied by protestors who preached free love and peace. It was a warm inviting community that brought you here, all those months ago. However, there was a dark brooding car that made you anxious. It was out of place in the rainbow pallet. A shiny 1973 Stutz Blackhawk. It loomed over all the other vehicles, like a dark storm cloud on a clear night. The car was parked on the other side of the road, closest to your window without being directly below. It was strange but maybe they were just visiting for a session with one of the girls.

The residents of the hotel you lived at including you were either prostitutes or call girls. You being the latter. It was a movement to lift women's sexuality. You decided what's the harm in selling the most organic thing, sex. You get paid for doing it as well and won't have to see the person who's paying. A man who was your most reliable client paid the highest. You didn't know his real name or what he looked like. Only what he told you throughout the months you've known him. You knew that he liked being called big daddy, and he loved routine. He told you he had blue eyes and dark black hair, and that he was a very wealthy man. However, with all that charm came a cost. Some of the calls he made were personal, talking to you like a child. Telling you that he was a lonely man, that women didn't love him like they used to since he gained some weight. He was older, more mature. He talked to you like a guardian. He wanted to protect you, a stranger. A call girl he's never met at that.

Unabashedly you liked him more than you should. He paid fairer than most of the men you talked to, and he always kept his word to spoil you. Big daddy also had a routine of calling you, every other night at midnight. Tonight however is nearing that hour and you haven't heard a word from him. It was strange since he was a creature of habit. Has he lost interest? Surely not, sometimes he called just to talk to you. He didn't care that every minute was ten dollars he just wanted to know how his little darling was doing.

You sighed, sitting on the window banister. Propping the window open you hear Hollywood's busy atmosphere. People yelling and conversing, and the traffic. The cool night air hitting your bare thighs made you shiver. Your baggy sleep shirt isn't adapting to California’s climate.

Hitting the bottom of the pack of reds, you open the brim. Plucking one of the last cigarettes out of the box. Placing it between your lips you take the lighter you keep stuffed in the box out. Cupping your hand around the flame you light the smoke. Puffing the flame to keep it steady. You tuck the lighter back and set aside the box on the side of the sill.

If you focus hard enough you swear you could see the stars behind Hollywood's fog. You inhale the smoke and breathe it out of your nose. You feel a pit in your stomach grow as the minutes pass as he doesn't call. The embers fall onto the window pane and you throw the rest of it out, puffing a long train of smoke and pushing it out into the night.

There's rhythmic rapping on the other side of your door. The sudden noise makes you jump, your skin tingling with fear. Who could be asking for your presence at such a late stage of the night? Hesitantly you stand and walk over to your door. Wrapping your fingers around the knob, bracing yourself for what’s to come when you open. When you open it, nothing is there. You stick your head out and look at both sides. Empty. You take a step out, and your toes hit something solid. Looking down you find a box. The box is about not big, not small either. More of a rectangle than anything. One of those boxes you find at a woman’s boutique. It doesn’t have a brand but it’s a hot pink color. There’s a white bow on top, and a small card tucked under it. Did someone else’s mail get delivered to you? You crouch down and take the card out from the sash. In barely cursive writing, it reads.

To my sweet darling,

May you bless these garments, with your lovely body.

Sincerely,

Your daddy.

Briefly your cheeks heat up, and the rest of your body follows. Your hands are sweating when you pick the box up. A smile erupts across your face. He cares. However, it strikes you with fear about how much he does. For example, how did he find where you lived? Did he trace the line? Surely not, you were just overthinking. You set the box down on your bed. You tucked the card under the lamp on your side table. The only light that is shown in your room. It illuminated the pink rotary phone on standby.

You slipped the baggy shirt over your chest, the cold air of the night made your skin prickle. Your nipples pebble from the icy grasp. Your little white panties were the only thing you had on. Untying the sash you opened the box. Your eyes turned glassy, your pussy clenching around nothing. Your brain is running wild with assumptions. A dusty pink bra with a little white bow in between the cups and matching lace panties. Your ears started to ring. You took the fabric into your hands, examining your gift further. It was silk. The stitching was embroidery, not factory-made. Did he get this tailored to you? You snorted a laugh at the idiocy. But upon further inspection, picking up your chosen underwear for the night. You found a pink sticky note with the number three written on it. Three thousand dollars in one hundred bills wrapped with a pink rubber band stuffed into the crotch. You huffed a loud noise in the form of a gasp. You should've known he’d do something like this. Taking the wad out you placed it by his note.

Unclasping the delicate strap you place the bra on. It shouldn't be a shock that it fits you perfectly, but it also raised the question. How did he know? You hooked your fingers under the waistband of the white panties you had on and slipped them off. You shake your head at the damp spot in the middle. God. Did just thinking about him do this to you? He could be the ugliest man alive for all you knew. His voice though. That heavy southern drawl, that makes him sound drunk sometimes with how slow he talks. You roll your eyes and groan. There it is again, you psycho-analyzing your client. It's just business. Where is the line between client and lover? You didn't know and you're afraid that you're too far gone to understand the concept.

You slid on the soft pink ones and pulled them up your legs and they hung snugly around your hips. Bizarrely you felt a wild hit of lust. Like those smelling salts they've been selling around your street lately. A boost of confidence hits your psyche. You knew you looked pretty just from how the lingerie felt. He somehow knew what looked best on you. He knows what's best for you. You ran your palms flat over your curves, stroking yourself. Suddenly, you understood what men saw. That unbridled sexual libido.

The phone rang. Your eyes almost bulged out of your head and you ran over to the pink plastic. Kicking the box off of your bed in the midst of it all. When you first pick it up and hold it to your ear you don't hear anything. Other than the hushed sound of breathing.

“Hello?”

You whisper into the bottom. You lay flat on your stomach, anticipating who is on the other line.

“Hello, darlin’. Been missin’ you.”

Your heart hammers against your chest. You smile widely. His voice is deeper than it usually is, softer as well. He's composed.

“Really?”

Listening to his breathing fogs your thinking and makes your stomach tighten.

“Of course, honey, been thinking about you since our last call.”

You snort a little at how silly his answer was. You trail your fingers over the curly cord.

“You’re so funny daddy, our last call was yesterday. You couldn't have thought about me that much.”

Instead of the line going quiet and listening to his breathing he immediately replies.

“Trust me, yittle girl, I have.”

You start to burn. He’s thought about you so much to the point where it’s not even a question. He adjusts himself and you hear leather squelch. Is he calling you in his car? You can’t think about it for long.

“Do you like my present?”

You scoff.

“Like it? I love it, daddy! Thank you so much!”

“I was a little worried it wouldn’t fit. Had to make a guess using what you’ve told me.”

You wonder if he keeps tabs on you, a notepad dedicated to details about you. You feel flattered by the sentiment.

“Are you wearing it?”

You can hear his swallow, a thick audible sound coming from his throat. Hearing him lick his lips too. You smile.

“Mhm, it’s very pretty. Expensive too, and I noticed the cash. You didn’t have to, our call was only a couple hundred last night.”

You felt a little apologetic for the amount of money he gave you. You honestly valued the conversations you have with him, you felt saddened to know that he probably thought you only talked to him since you got paid in the end. You hear him scoff on the other side.

“Baby, I'll tell you one thing. You don't know nothin’ ‘bout me if you think I can't spoil my yittle girl.”

You smile.

“Point taken.”

It’s quiet again. His deep breathing follows, it’s strangely comforting hearing him breathing. It’s as if you were cuddled up next to him. You’d lay on his chest, rubbing your hand on his bare chest. Feeling his heart beat faster as you trail your hand lower under the waistband of his velvet track pants. You wondered what color they’d be. You know undoubtedly he wouldn’t have trouble getting hard. A pretty little thing like you was the only dose of medicine he’d ever need. You rub your thighs together trying to appease the urge to touch yourself. Fantasizing what his hands would feel like on your body. How big he was.

“Need to stop smokin’ honey.”

You blink dumbly. Your heart is running fast. How’d he know? Was he watching? No. You refuse.

“W-what?”

Your words are rushed.

“A lotta girls in the valley are startin’ to smoke those cowboy killers. They’re called that for a reason. Pretty young girls can’t take that kinda smoke. Makes your poor daddy sad seein’ them ruin’n their lives because of a fad.”

“How d’you know I smoke?”

“Like I said, lotta pretty youngins are startin’ up the nasty habit.”

Shutting your mouth you think for a few seconds, contemplating his answer. He’s most likely around your demographic all the time for his profession. He’s just in one of his overprotective moods. He’s been getting into those moods more often lately. A hint of jealousy grows a pit in your stomach. If he’s always around young women then why does he talk to you? There’s nothing special about a call girl. Or so you think.

“Daddy, do you ever think about me outside of our little talks?”

“I'm ‘fraid you got a listen’in problem. Told you before darlin’, I think ‘bout you every damn minute.”

He starts huffing, breathing quicker.

“Starts gettin’ bad when I'm on the job and I start thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

You push your hand on the mattress, laying flat on your back. Adjusting the phone to your other hand so the cord isn't in your way. Smiling mischievously to yourself. Running your nails along your stomach.

“What do you think about me when you're working?”

“Oh, Lord honey, all kinds of things. Your daddy gets so very lonesome without his yittle sweet thing. He starts thinkin’ ‘bout how it feels to have her legs wrapped around his hips. How her tiny sooties wouldn't be able to touch. If he put all his weight on her if he’d feel his cock in her stomach every time he fucks up into her.”

You can't speak, running his filthy words through your mind. How your feet wouldn't be able to touch just from how wide his hips are. The confidence he has in his size is a complete contrast to the insecurity he normally voices. You don't know what the change was in his ego but you love it. So much to the point where you cup your hand over your pussy. The warmth from your labia makes your arousal build. You can feel the dampness of your essence seeping through his lacy panties. Your clit is already swollen and throbbing from the friction of the elastic band.

“How-,”

You bite back a whimper, clutching the phone closer to your ear to hear his rapid breaths.

“How big are you?”

He chuckles under his breath, how innocent you are. He's talked to you about what he wants to do to you. You're not shy or bashful when you warm up to him. The fact of the matter was you were as much of a freak as he was, maybe even more. All you were was just a little minx.

“You know those glass co-la bottles that used to sell wild back in 55?”

“It's like that honey.”

You dip your fingers under the band of the panties, you tease the outer lips of your slit. Your folds are soaked in your juices. Hearing him talk in that dirty southern drawl makes your hips buck. The poor man can't even say cola right because of his accent. It causes your breath to hitch. You spread open the lips of your snatch and drag the wetness from your core to your clit. Up and down.

“Goddamn, I don’ even think my pinky could fit in your little cunt. I betcha you couldn't even take in your daddy's knuckle.”

He cleared his throat, the pause made you push two fingers into your fluttering hole. Automatically your back arches. You can only imagine his features pushing into you, how his cock would stretch you out. The burn of him pulling out only to plunge back in.

“How am I makin’ you feel?”

He pulls you closer to the edge, you can hear the wet squelch of your fingers fucking into your channel. Your palm flattens and rubs on your clit. Your body feels electric and pulsing with every thrust.

“Listen real close, daddy.”

You bite down hard on your lip to stifle a whine. Taking the phone from your face you place it between your thighs. Right above the hand, you're fingering yourself with. He groans loud and heavily into the speaker.

“Uh huh, mhm.”

The tension in your stomach snaps, and you can feel the rush flow from your abdomen and down into your hand. Your legs straighten out and you let go of the phone, soaking the plastic your bed and his panties. Your eyes roll back and your mouth parts as your breath becomes ragged. When you come back down to earth, the only thing you can imagine is his face stuffed into your neck telling you how good you did. You lift up and take the phone back up, wiping it off with your duvet.

“How’d that sound?”

“Lord have mercy on me.”

You smile at how astonished he sounds.

“That darlin’ sounded as good as the lord's gospel.”

“I swear to god daddy's gon’ fill you up, make you his forever. Allow you to be blessed by raising his kid. He’ll never be alone again having you as his little mama.”

This was new. His mantra about wanting to play house with you. Maybe it was because you had a crush on him or that your mind was still foggy but that didn't sound bad at all. Actually, it sounded like a dream.

“Did you cum daddy?”

He laughs into the phone, one of his warm authentic ones. The one that makes your stomach flutter.

“Honey, I finished when you told me you were wearin’ the little thing I gotcha.”

You blush, smiling wide. Maybe it's because of him telling you that he wants a future with you. Or the delusion that you'll have a life with him, but you can't help but ask him.

“When can I meet you?”

He sighs on the line, a deeply disappointing one. That crushes your soul a little. Your feelings get twisted slightly before he answers.

“Tonight.”

The line goes dead after his reply.

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