#i had it planned the whole time i just lacked inspiration | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nicksolemnlyswears · 9 months

Note

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though.

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples.

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white.

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist.

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other.

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back.

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours.

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him.

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop."

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you.

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically.

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier.

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds.

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two.

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder.

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin.

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

#request #han lue imagine #fanfiction #fast and furious fanfiction #fast and furious #han lue fanfiction #han seoul oh #han lue x reader #han lue request #han lue #han lue imagines #han x reader #han x you #han lue smut #smut

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chahnniesroom · 5 months

Text

for better, for worse

pairing: lee minho x female reader

summary: an arranged marriage is anything but ideal. minho knows that when it comes to his role as a husband, he's lacking, but you haven't exactly been the perfect wife either. a phone call from you leads to a shift in priorities.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst, mention of a car accident, mentioned death of a minor character

a/n: originally this was going to be part of a longer fic, but i will never write that longer fic, so i decided to post it! the name of this fic is what inspired me to create the till death do us part collection. i hope you enjoy!

part 2 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Minho had never really thought that he’d be married before the age of 30. Sure, he knew that his parents would likely expect it of him, but he prioritised work far too much to have a meaningful relationship with anyone. So it’s not exactly a surprise that when his parents announce that they’ve arranged a marriage with you, Minho doesn’t suddenly become an attentive and doting partner. In fact, even a year later, he still hasn’t gotten very close to you.

Minho knows that when it comes to his role as a husband, he’s lacking, but you haven’t exactly been the perfect wife either. Behind closed doors, you seem openly resentful of this whole situation and do your best to avoid Minho altogether.

Honestly, Minho doesn’t blame you. If he thinks about it, which he tries not to, you have it even worse off than him. You’re younger by a couple years and had been in the process of rising through the ranks of your family’s company when you’d been forced into becoming a dutiful housewife instead of an executive.

You had tried at first, texting him good morning, staying up late to wait for him to get home from work, and making sure the staff always had fresh and healthy meals prepared. Minho feels guilty thinking of how often he had brushed you off, but he had just been promoted and a lot of the executives, your father included, were just waiting to see him make a mistake. The overwhelming pressure had led him to spend more nights than not at the office and when he did go home, his thoughts still revolved on the work he had left to do.

You haven’t done anything drastic to express your dissatisfaction yet, but it feels like it’s only a matter of time.

Tonight would be the perfect way to do so. The two of you are expected to be present for an event, one that Minho has been invited to speak at. His assistant, Jiyu, tells him that it’s the opportunity of a lifetime and stresses how important it is for everything to go according to plan.

Minho heads to the event straight from the office and isn’t surprised that you’re not there before him. Even 30 minutes after the event has officially started, he still doesn’t mind since it’s just been mingling so far, something that he knows you detest. It’s when they sit everybody down to start serving the meal that he starts getting impatient, his temper starting to make itself known.

You know that this night is important for Minho and he’s told you multiple times that he expects you to be there. He knew that you had been picked up on time since he’d even sent his personal driver, Jeonghoon, to get you and Jeonghoon had sent assurances that the two of you were on your way.

You're frustratingly convincing though, Minho has never been able to say no to you and he knows that you've charmed all the household staff as well.

He'd texted Jeonghoon once to check where you were, but hadn't gotten a reply and he just hopes that it's because traffic is bad and not because you're plotting something.

When Jiyu pesters Minho about the lack of your presence, he gives in and calls your cell phone. It rings for a while, and Minho is about to hang up when you finally answer.

“Minho!” you say, sounding delighted. Minho is instantly suspicious. “You’re calling me.”

“Where are you?” he demands coldly. “It’s late.”

“I-I tried to call,” you continue to babble. “This time, I was good, really. I remem-remembered to call Jiyu-ssi instead of your phone. She said you were busy and not to bother you. But they needed someone to come help and I couldn’t think of anyone else.”

“Y/n, are you- are you drunk?” he asks in disbelief. If he sounded cold before, his voice is absolutely frigid now. Someone happens to walk by and they look frightened by whatever expression is on his face based on the way that they scurry past while trying to avoid eye contact.

“No!” you deny vehemently, even though there’s still something odd about the tone of your voice. “I didn’t drink anything! They didn’t let me. They won’t let me do anything. They just gave me this thing and-”

“Where are you.”

“I’m at the hospital,” you say plainly.

“What?” Minho stands up from the table, uncaring of the way that everyone swivels to look at him. He had stayed quiet enough before to prevent eavesdropping, but forgets to keep his voice down reacting to your matter-of-fact response. “What happened?”

“We were driving to the hotel,” you say in a small voice. “I didn’t want to be late. I- I don’t know what happened. There was another car- they were in a rush too.” You stop to hiccup.

“Y/n-” Minho is at the entrance to the ballroom and doesn’t even wait for the staff to heave the doors open, opting to push through them himself. He knows he's making a scene, but he couldn’t care less about anybody else in the room at the moment.

“He’s gone,” you interrupt, sounding hollow. “Jeonghoon. They couldn’t even get him out of the car. I saw it. Him. What was left. There was so much blood.”

It feels like Minho’s stomach drops right to the floor.

“Y/n-”

He can barely hear your reply, instead the rush of his pulse in his ears drowns out any other sound. He's suddenly aware of how shaky his breathing has gotten, shallow gasps that barely provide any oxygen to his lungs.

“It doesn’t feel real,” you say, subdued. “They keep saying that I was really lucky, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Are you hurt?” Minho’s almost afraid to ask.

“Oh,” you sound surprised. “Me? I- Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t worry? Never mind, just tell me what hospital you’re at. I’m on my way.” Minho has forgotten that you're particularly skilled at deflecting questions, even ones that are direct.

“What? No! You can’t leave, you have your speech-”

“Y/n,” Minho says gently. You're starting to sound panicked and since he still doesn't know what your condition is, he doesn't want you to be any more stressed than you already are. “It’s okay, I’ve already excused myself.”

“I know tonight was really important to you,” you say miserably. “I ruined it. I’m sorry. Oh I- Someone’s here, I have to go now. Don't come, please. I’m fine, really. Stay at the event.”

The call ends abruptly and Minho is left staring at his phone.

“Minho-ssi,” Jiyu hisses from beside him. Her heels clack as she tries to keep up with him. Minho's already halfway across the lobby, but he can still see into the ballroom where a number of people are still staring after him. They must think he’s gone crazy. There’s a smile on Jiyu's face, but the tone of her voice is anything but friendly. “What are you doing? They're not finished serving dinner and you have to be on stage soon.”

Minho doesn’t even bother to answer, starting to dial for a car to come pick him up before he realises, dismayed, that he’s pulled up Jeonghoon’s number. He shakes his head for a moment before calling someone else.

Jiyu grabs at his elbow, pulling him to a stop. Even through the layers of his clothes, her nails are sharp pin pricks that dig into the flesh of his arm.

“Minho-ssi, you can’t just leave!”

Minho wrenches himself from her grasp and turns to scowl at her. She stumbles back at the force of his glare for a moment before reaching out again.

“Y/n’s in the hospital,” he explains. That should be enough explanation, but it still doesn’t seem to affect her. "I have to go."

“Tonight is critical if you want to win over enough people for the contract that you’re negotiating. Don’t waste any time worrying about her. If she's at the hospital, there’s nothing that you can do to help Y/n, she’s already being taken care of,” Jiyu says coolly. “Some things are more important.”

Minho stares at her for a long moment.

Jiyu has worked with Minho for a significant portion of his career. Her analytical and no-nonsense way of handling things is part of the reason that he’s been able to make it as far as he has. For the longest time, he had admired her ability to set aside her emotions to make logical, objective decisions.

Now he wonders if she’s just heartless.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho can see a car pull up to the doors and he makes his own decision.

“Yes," he agrees. Jiyu lets out a sigh of relief and reaches out to tug him back to the ballroom. Minho steps away to avoid her hand. "Some things- some people are more important. I didn't see that before and I won't make that mistake again. Jiyu-ssi, give everybody my apologies that I was not able to stay and then you may go home. Thank you for your service all these years, but I will not be needing you as my assistant any longer."

He doesn't look back.

part 2 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

569 notes · View notes

sinsandsweetness · 11 months

Text

BIRTHDAY BOY

(Rick & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+ content. minors do not interact please n' thank u, smut, double penetration, FMM threesome, oral sex, fingering, anal, cream pies... i think that's it. (no Rick x Daryl, just them sharing you) 2k word count.

notes- inspired by @gxtitobxby 's 'Rickyl bday sex' blurb. enjoy!

You sat at the end of the dinner table, listening to the sound of silverware scraping on the porcelain plates. Your bare feet underneath, sneaking over to the boots of both men sitting across you. Earning a tiny smile that pulled at Rick's lips, and a quick glance from Daryl.

"Is it ok? I didn’t know if you liked vanilla or chocolate so I was worried it was maybe too bland-" you put your fork down. The taste of the vanilla buttercream and strawberries still coating your tastebuds.

"It’s really good, baby. Nice and sweet." Rick got up and grabbed the empty plates, brushing you on his way to the kitchen. "Just like you." He leaned down to plant a sweet kiss on the top of your head. You beamed at Daryl, awaiting his own response. Considering that the cake was for his birthday.

" 's good," he said, shovelling the last bite in his mouth. Eyes shifting back up as your feet climbed higher, toes tickling at the denim. Trying to tease him, make him smile… get any reaction really. Your smile dropped at his continued lack of interest.

From the kitchen, Rick called you over. You grabbed Daryl’s empty plate and maintained eye contact as you dipped your pinky in the icing left on the plate, sucking it clean as you walked over to Rick.

"He’s just tired, baby. Why don’t you go get your pjs on n’ we’ll watch a movie or somethin'." Rick told you with a gentle hand on your elbow. Just as aware of the unimpressed energy coming from the man at the table.

They had just gotten back from a pretty long run the night before. And apparently things didn’t go quite as planned. They ran into another group and were out two days longer than intended. You didn’t ask for details, but the blood on their clothes was enough to assume the worst.

You could hear them talking in the kitchen as you climbed up the plush carpet stairs, not making out any real words, just the gravelly sound of their voices.

In the bedroom, you stood in front of the mirror, a little disappointed to be changing out of the pretty sundress you put on. You knew that Daryl really liked it. That was the whole reason you’d picked it out. You spent all morning getting ready, curling your hair and securing half of it up with a silky pink ribbon. You got yourself all dolled up for him.

Just as you were rooting around the drawer of Rick and Daryl’s old tee shirts, kindly donated to you for sleep and loungewear, you heard the door creak open and through the mirror you could see Daryl. He came up behind you, put his hands on your waist and nestled his face into the crook of your neck. He breathed in and left a couple sweet little kisses.

"I really did like the cake," he started, turning you around to look at him, your butt pressed up against the dresser. "Did you pick those strawberries yourself?" He asked.

You nodded with a smile, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck. "I practically had to fight Carol off for em'."You admitted.

Amusement flashed through his face. You figured Rick must have told him to quit being so moody. To give you even the littlest bit of praise for your hard work. With the lunchtime birthday party earlier in the day, and the cake you baked from scratch. You hesitantly pressed your mouth against his.

"I liked the present too." He mumbled against your lips. His hands trailed up your dress, clearly recognizing it from the last time you wore it. You’d gotten him a switchblade. His other one broke and you happened to find one really similar at Hilltop. You’d traded a whole basket of food for it.

"There is one more present you know…" You told him, hands slowly making their way to his belt. His tongue darting out to lick his lips as you unbuckled him. Sinking down to your knees in front of him, and kissing his hard on through his boxers. The contact making his cock twitch.

"Can I give you my other present now?" You asked innocently, looking up at him through long lashes. Painted fingernails tickling at the waist band as his hands went right to your hair.

"Go right ahead, princess," his head tipped back to the ceiling as you pulled down his boxers and eagerly licked all the way up his shaft, getting him all wet with your spit. When he’d had enough of your teasing, he put pressure on your head and forced you to take all of him. Not that you minded. A groan left both of you at the same time when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You bobbed your head up and down to whatever pace he wanted, controlling you with the grip on your scalp. Messing up your ribbon in the process.

You could hear Rick enter the room, though you didn’t stop looking up at Daryl. Focusing solely on the man in front of you. The one who had never even gotten a real birthday. And when he’d told you that months ago, you decided to do everything you possibly could, to make up for it.

The springs in the mattress squeaked, and you figured Rick was making himself comfortable. Lying back to watch the show. Daryl glanced over at him, already breathing heavy above you.

They shared a look that could only mean one thing, and before you knew it you were being pulled up by your hair and shoved towards the bed, stumbling forward and hitting the mattress with your knees. Looking back at Daryl who gave you a little nod. And then down at Rick, with his one leg bent and splayed open, and his own hand palming at his hard on.

"You think I can share your present, baby? Would that be ok with you?" Daryl asked from behind you, tugging up your dress and pressing himself against your lacy panties. Hands rubbing up and down your sides.

"Anything for the birthday boy. Ain't that right, sweetie?" Rick interrupted, answering for you. As if it wasn’t in his own best interest that he shared.

"Uhuh. Anything," you agreed and turned your head to catch Daryl’s lips, but he only kissed you for a second.

"Good. Now let’s get these panties off." He pushed you onto the bed and your eyes got wide at his demand. Rick smiled at your reaction. You did as you were told, and got on all fours in front of him, all while stripping your panties down to your knees.

Rick brought his hand up to your face, thumb pressing against your bottom lip. A glint in his eyes as you sucked on his thumb, dragging your teeth on the calloused pad.

Behind you, Daryl snagged the delicate lace around your knees and ripped them all the way off, hands coming up to knead at your ass. A sharp smack filling the air before you even registered the stinging skin.

"Ow," you whined out loud at the third smack. Earning a little scowl from the man in front of you.

"It’s his day, sweetheart. Gotta give him whatever he wants."

You nodded in agreement and started at Rick's pants. Daryl toying with your entrance from behind. Dipping down and licking a stripe up your slit from behind. Then moving to bite hard marks into your ass cheeks. You were trying not to groan too much at the pain. Rick was right. You weren’t allowed to complain. This wasn’t about you, it was about Daryl.

"How do you want her?" Rick asked him, over your shoulder. Daryl thought for a moment before deciding on what he wanted. Gently flipping you over so you were essentially sitting in Rick's lap. Rick held your hips up so that his thick cock pressed right between your cheeks.

Daryl grabbed your knees and spread them, situating himself right in front of you, his own cock rubbing against your clit. The whole situation made your pussy throb. You loved being sandwiched between them. It was your absolute fucking favourite. And you knew for a fact, they felt the same way.

"You gonna let us fill you up, baby?" Daryl asked, squeezing your breast over your dress. Rick pulling you down and grinding your ass down onto him.

"Anything you want." You mutter, reminding him of your present. Resting your head back on Rick's shoulder, to allow Daryl better access to your chest and neck. He pulled at the string of your dress untying it and exposing your breasts. He dipped down to nip at your skin. Finally pulling the dress over your head to allow him access at whatever he wanted. When his teeth caught on your nipple, you let out a little cry. Rick's lips brushed your ear while he told you how good of a girl you were being, giving Daryl exactly what he wants. That you are all he wants. All they want. And most importantly, that you’re all theirs.

Both you and Rick could feel your wetness drip down your inner thigh. Using that discovery to his advantage, Rick started rocking you against him until his cock was all slick with your arousal. He lined himself up, and pressed against your asshole. You couldn’t help but gasp a little at the intrusion, even though you knew it was coming. They just couldn’t resist the chance to fill you right up.

You slowly sunk down onto Rick, the familiar burn and stretch of the muscle making you groan.

"You’re turn, Daryl." Rick told his friend as soon as your ass cheeks were flush with his thighs. Completely filled with every glorious inch.

Daryl dipped his fingers in the pool of wetness that was dripping from your cunt, rubbing it around and then dragging his own dick through it. You tried your best to relax as he aligned with your entrance and pushed.

"Ah! Mphmm." You moaned right into Daryl’s neck. Grasping at his shoulders and clawing down his back. Fuck, you were full. It hurt. Every time it happened, it was definitely painful for the first little bit. But quickly they found a rhythm, with Rick fucking you from below and Daryl thrusting nice and slow as he pressed messy, wet kisses to your mouth. Within a few minutes, they turned you into a babbling mess with your sweet spot stimulated from every possible angle. You were trying to tell Daryl how good he makes you feel. How pretty he is and how sexy his arms and chest are. How big his dick felt inside of you. But a soon as he was consistently hitting your cervix, you started to forget the English language and decided to stick your tongue down his throat instead. Rick's hands dug into your hips harder than you knew possible. There would be fingerprints bruised into your skin by tomorrow. Daryl’s hands held the backs of your thighs, opening you up as much as he could. Looking down once in a while at the sight of you being split right open. You could feel him twitch inside of you. You could tell he was close. The tightness and pressure getting the best of all three of you.

"I’m- I-" you couldn’t even finish your sentence, as both men picked up their pace the second they heard your whining confession. Fucking you into adorable little moans, sobs and convulsions. A flood of heat erupting from your core, and shortly after, the feeling of both men’s hips stuttering. Emptying themselves into you. Their cum dribbling out of you as they pulled out gently. And you whining quietly at the new empty feeling. The men quickly maneuvering you onto the mattress so they could watch their contents seep out of both of your holes. They each picked a leg and started to kiss and suck little hickeys on them. Daryl’s fingers came up to drag through their seed, rubbing it all over your clit. You moaned out as he pressed two digits in to your pussy, the sound of all your cum mixing together, and squelching made you tighten around his digits. The men stayed between your legs and gave you two more orgasms. Switching off where one would work with their fingers and the other would kiss you all hot and messy. Molding you into the desperate little mess you usually were.

They only gave you a break while the three of you showered, Rick kissing the water droplets off your shoulder as you massaged some green apple scented shampoo into Daryl’s dark locks. Steam and giggles filling the master bathroom as you all washed up.

"You still wanna watch a movie?" Rick asked while pulling on some sweatpants. Daryl rubbed a towel on his hair as you watched the two get dressed, cross legged on the bed in your cotton boy shorts and Daryl’s favorite shirt.

"We could…" he said with a curious hesitation, "Or… we could make one...?" He suggested, with the smallest hint of shyness in his voice. He was testing the waters. Seeing how much he could he get away with today. Rick let out a dry laugh at your wide eyed gulp. Sympathizing with your poor body. Already sore and covered in love bites. But all three of you knew that no matter what, you weren’t gonna say no to the birthday boy.

(continued here)

#rickyl #smut #rickyl x reader #rick grimes smut #daryl dixon smut #Rickyl smut #twd fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #sinsandsweetness

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hvlplvss · 5 months

Text

| have yourself a merry little christmas

| colby brock x reader

summary: in which colby brock has never liked the idea of christmas. he’s never enjoyed it or wanted to celebrate by decorating. but his girlfriend loves the holiday. decorating the house in anyway she could. but a few words may cause colby’s hate for christmas to melt.

warnings: angst, reader cries, colby says a few means things lol, happy ending though !!

authors note: this is inspired by a steve harrington fic i saw last xmas, but the author has deactivated their account!!! but credits to them for this idea :)

colby brock has never really liked christmas. he always thought of it as a burden. having to decorate the house and be all cheery for an entire month, just to celebrate one day.

he didn’t understand why he hated it so much; but he just did. he couldn’t get behind the idea of christmas, or decorating, or christmas trees. you name it, colby brock probably didn’t like it.

however his girlfriend y/n, adored christmas. it was her favourite time of the year and it had been ever since she was young. she loved decorating and making the holiday special for the younger ones in her family. she loved the presents, she loved the food and the whole idea.

so when christmas was quickly approaching, y/n couldn’t help but speak about the holiday. she would sometimes speak to colby about it, despite knowing he didn’t love the day. but her and sam would talk about it as sam would listen to the girl yap about christmas.

seen as it was their first christmas together and y/n had come to realise that colby did in fact not like christmas, she made it her goal to make him enjoy it this year.

y/n had already begun preparing little things for christmas. it was only the middle of november and she had already planned the christmas tree, the lights which she’d put up outside, the gifts she was getting everyone. and by everyone, it meant everyone.

anyone who she would call a friend, or even a civil friendship, would receive a gift from the girl. wether it be bought or handmade, she’d make sure everyone got something this christmas.

but as the days slowly crept round to the first of december, y/n was ecstatic.

colby’s eyes slowly opened, squinting due to the lack of sleep the boy received last night after coming home from a meeting at silly o’clock in the morning.

he noticed the empty space in the bed beside him. y/n wasn’t there. which was strange and unusual as usually the girl was the last one to wake up between the two off them.

he reached for his phone checking the time, which read 6:37am.

what was y/n doing? there was no way she chose to be up at this time in the morning. it’s not like she had anything special going on today.

colby gave himself a minute to fully wake up, stretching his legs and arms and closing his eyes one last time before sliding out the side of the bed.

colby walked downstairs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. this is why she was awake so early. he thought.

the whole downstairs of the house was now silver with christmas decorations. tinsel, little trinkets of decoration, a christmas countdown which had rotating blocks so you could change it every morning.

“y/n?” colby called out. there were a few moments of rustling and a box being put down.

y/n came into view from the kitchen door, adorned in fluffy socks and a big christmas jumper that was many sizes too big for her.

“what’s going on?” colby asked, “why does the house look so ‘christmassy’” colby shuddered at the word as though it was bad for him to say it.

“it’s the first of december, colbs!” y/n beamed, “it’s finally christmas time!”

colby strolled into the kitchen, looking at what y/n was doing.

she was baking. baking christmas cookies. and she might as well be feeding the entire state with the amount she had made.

“what are all these for?” he asked.

“christmas cookies! i’m gonna take them to the nursing home,” she explained, “i’ve done it every year!” she pulled a rack out the oven and placed even more cookies on the side. “you don’t think i’ve gone overboard right?”

“what? no? i think it’s sweet, y/n,”

“okay, good. i mean if i’ve made to many they can always have two each, or maybe even three!”

colby placed a hand on his girlfriends cheek, “hey, calm down. it’ll be fine, i promise you,” he spoke softly, “but maybe just also calm down on all the decorations, yeah?”

y/n faltered at his words, “you don’t like them?” she asked disheartened.

“no, i-i do. just… just not use to it, yeah?” colby answered quickly, not wanting to upset her.

she nodded in response, looking back over her cookies once more. “right, i’m going to let these cool down, then get ready and go out to give them to the nursing home and then come home and decorate the tree!” she planned.

colby sighed, trying to hide his slight annoyance that he was coming to terms with. he loved the girl, but he hated this christmas spirit she had.

y/n had arrived home after successfully handing out her christmas cookies, 174 cookies to be exact, (she now realised she may have gone overboard).

y/n walked through the front door, taking her shoes off, leaving them next to colby’s.

as she strolled through the house, she arrived into the living room where colby was sat with his laptop.

she stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“hey colbs,” she smiled.

colby looked up to look at his girlfriend, he smiled back at her and kissed her lips. “how was it?” he asked.

“good! they were happy to see me again! said i should go see them more often,” she told colby.

“bless them. they probably don’t get many visitors so they’re probably pleased to see you!” he answered, to which y/n nodded.

colby turned back to his laptop as y/n had walked away into the corner of the living room.

she opened a box which held various christmas tree decorations. she’d used the box for as many christmases as she could remember, it even had some of the baubles that her parents had bought when she was a toddler.

y/n slowly began decorating the tree, adding the lights, the baubles, the tinsel and so on.

but it took her quite some time due to her being an extreme perfectionist and if things weren’t equal on the tree, she’d restart or take the last few things off and then redo them.

so to say it took y/n a long time to decorate the tree was an understatement. she was an hour and 45 minutes in and she still hadn’t finished.

colby was still sat in the same spot on the couch, growing slightly agitated with his girlfriend.

she was talking to herself, muttering and whispering ideas. and as harsh as it sounds, she was really getting on his nerves. he was just trying to edit a video for the channel, but y/n couldn’t be quiet.

her voice broke him out of his thoughts, “colbs? which do you think looks better? the silver bauble or the gold bauble?” he looked up, glaring, but y/n was too carried away to even notice the change in his demeanour.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged, “silver?” colby answered, looking back down at his laptop.

y/n turned back to the christmas tree, deciding wether to go with her boyfriends advice or not.

y/n had officially finished decorating the christmas tree, after nearly two and a half hours, she only had one job left to do which was the star on top.

but the tree seemed to have quite a big height advantage on the girl, so she turned back around to colby.

“colbs, can you help me put the star on?” he tried to pretend that he hadn’t heard y/n, hoping that she would leave it and work the problem out herself; but she didn’t. “colbs?”

colby’s head snapped up, “what?!”

“can you help me put the star on, please?” she asked sheepishly.

“look!” colby began, placing his laptop off of his lap, “i’m trying to work, okay? but you are just constantly talking or asking me something about christmas or the decorations! when i don’t even care! i’m sick of all this christmas shit, y/n!”

y/n’s eyes glossed over at his harsh voice and choice of words and her bottom lip quivered.

“oh,” she spoke quietly.

colby could see what he had done. why did he get angry? why did he yell at her? he made her upset and he could tell.

y/n turned around and placed the star down back in the box, then turning to walk out of the living room, “y/n! wait- i didn’t-” but y/n shook her head and walked out of the room, heading upstairs.

colby shook his head and sighed, “fuck,” well done colby, well done.

y/n had been significantly quieter that day. when colby came upstairs for bed, y/n didn’t speak unless colby spoke to her first. she hadn’t even left the room due to how embarrassed she felt.

but the following day, y/n was still asleep when colby woke up. so, he quietly got dressed, trying not to wake y/n up, knowing it’d be an awkward encounter for the couple. plus colby also wanted to go food shopping as they began running out of food in their fridge and should stock up before everything runs out in the stores.

so while colby was out, y/n had gone about the house and took down each decoration. she didn’t want colby to feel annoyed by all the christmas things.

she just wanted to warm him up to the idea of christmas, but from what he said last night, it clearly wasn’t working.

taking down the christmas tree was way quicker than putting it up, y/n came to realise.

once everything had been tucked back into their boxes, y/n had gone back upstairs to just lay down in bed. ever since colby said that, y/n had felt a lack of energy. she was hurting. she was so excited for her first christmas with colby, but it wasn’t going the way she hoped.

sam had stopped by the couples house, dropping off the other laptop they shared for editing videos. the boy let himself in as he’d been allowed a key to the house, due to his frequent visits.

“colby? y/n?” he called out.

y/n walked out of her room grudgingly, walking down the stairs. “hi,” she said.

“hey,” he answered, “are you okay?”

he could tell something was up. she wasn’t being cheery like she had been on the lead up to december, or when she spoke about how excited she was for it to be december soon enough. she nodded.

“where’s all the decorations?” sam asked, looking around the house, “i thought you said you were gonna decorate on the first, and it’s now the second?”

y/n looked down, trying to come up with an excuse, “oh, i just had a really busy day yesterday, i didn’t find the time to,” she lied.

sam nodded, not believing her in the slightest. “i was coming to give colby this, but i’ll just tell him to drop by before he comes home,” y/n nodded, “call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“yeah,” she muttered, “bye sam,”

“bye y/n,” he turned back around, closing the door behind him.

sam hopped into his car, pulling his phone out of his pocket and going to message sam.

stop by mine later, need to give you the other laptop and also need to speak to you

colby had just arrived outside of sam’s appartment. he stepped out the car and walked to the house, opening the door.

“sam!” colby yelled. the said boy walked out from the kitchen and to colby, “you alright?” colby asked.

“yeah, just need to ask a few things and also give you the laptop,” sam answered, walking back into the kitchen, colby following his trail.

“yeah, what’s up?”

sam sighed, “why is your house not decorated?” sam asked. colby furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “i mean, y/n wouldn’t stop talking about how excited she was to decorate and how she was gonna do it on the first, but when i stopped by earlier there was nothing,”

“wait- what do you mean, there was nothing?” colby asked, slightly puzzled.

“i stopped by, and there were no decorations. like at all. it looked like your everyday house. no signs of christmas, at all,” sam explained.

colby thought about it for a moment, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “shit,” he muttered, placing his head in his hands.

“what?”

colby sighed, “i got angry yesterday, when y/n was decorating. she kept asking me questions and i was really rude and i yelled at her. i saw her face, sam. she was nearly crying, i mean she probably did cry, but she kept it hidden from me,” colby explained, “fuck! i feel so awful, sam,”

sam shook his head, “you should have heard her before. she rarely spoke to you about it cause she knew you hated it, so she’d talk to me about christmas things. but she was so excited for it, colby. you’ve messed this up, bro,”

“i know…” he sighed, “i just- i’m not use to it, and i know that doesn’t excuse it, because it doesn’t, i shouldn’t have gotten angry,”

“glad you realised that!” sam answered.

tomorrow was christmas. the day y/n was once looking forward to, but now didn’t even want to hear anything about it. she’d gone to bed quite early on christmas eve due to working all day.

colby had said he’d be up to bed in a few hours as he had a few things left to catch up on, like meetings and editing things and so on.

but colby didn’t come to bed until 3:27 in the morning.

colby spent six hours decorating downstairs. decorating the house how y/n had once made it. making it christmassy. how a house should be.

he even went shopping to buy all the food he would need for the dinner the next day. especially as the boy had invited everyone and everybody round for christmas dinner.

he had been so busy that time went quicker than he thought it had. he didn’t even notice when the clock struck 3am how long he’d actually been busy for.

and as he reached to put the star on the tree, he remembered what he said that day where he ruined y/n’s christmas cheer. but he hoped this would bring it back.

sure, colby still didn’t understand the whole christmas idea, but if it made his girlfriend happy, then he would learn about the christmas spirit.

when y/n woke up that dreaded morning, she noticed that colby was missing. she assumed he’d left as maybe he felt awkward, or that he’d gone to visit sam early.

but when y/n actually came round and fully woke up, she noticed the smell coming from downstairs. y/n furrowed her brows in confusion, so she stood up out from her bed and walked out of her room.

as she looked down the stairs she realised what colby had done.

the entire house had become ‘christmassy’. colby had redone all of y/n’s decorations and exactly how she had done them. everything was the same.

“colbs?” y/n called out.

colby rounded the corner of the kitchen, a smile playing on his lips, “d’you like it?” he asked.

y/n rolled her eyes playfully, running to him and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“i love it, colbs. thank you,” she whispered.

“no, thank you,” he said, placing his hands on her face, making her look at him, “i was horrible to you that day. you were so excited about christmas and i ruined that, i’m so sorry,” he apologised.

y/n leaned in to kiss colby’s lips gently, planting a soft kiss to them. “i forgive you,” she replied, “but pleaseeeee can i give you your gifts now? i’ve been waiting for months to give you them!”

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #sam golbach x reader #smut #sam and colby smut

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atomicami · 6 months

Text

the perfect fit

model!abby anderson x fashion designer!reader

- summary: it’s the start of your new job working for armani as a fashion designer, and your first assignment is to design and create a suit for an upcoming runway event. despite the fact that you can’t stand your chosen model, you also can’t help but find her very attractive too.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, nyc living, reader has a degree in fashion design, reader is a bit of a perfectionist, model!abby, abby’s a little cocky, work sex, fingering & strap usage (r!receiving), abby refers to her strap as her cock, size kink, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

- author’s note: so i was highly inspired by this abby x model!reader fic that i decided to try to write out a fic of my own with this new pairing!! i hope y’all like it :)

also dedicating this one to my girl @whore4abby ily darling 🤍

New York City was always known to be the place where one’s dreams were meant to fly as high as the skyscrapers that rose in its urban atmosphere. It was known to be the perfect capital city for all professions, including fashion.

Living in New York had always been the dream for you, and although you were now residing there for school, you weren’t exactly fulfilling your dreams just yet. So when you had called your parents one day to break the bad news to them, you knew that they weren’t going to be on board with your sudden change of plans.

“You’re switching majors? But why?” your dad asked through the phone. “I thought you wanted to study law.”

No, you didn’t. Your parents had been telling everyone they knew in your small town that you were going to major in law after high school and become the best lawyer to walk the streets of New York, and as a result, you couldn’t help but select that major just to please them.

“I don’t, Dad…If you had listened to me in the first place, you would know that I never wanted to do that,” you tell him.

“Well, that’s alright, law school isn’t for everyone now.” your dad told you before continuing. “What are you going to study instead? Medicine? Psychology? Business?”

You took a deep breath before continuing. “Fashion design…” you mutter back to him.

You can already imagine the outburst he was going to have. It was almost as if you could feel the anger bubbling within him through the phone.

“Fashion?! Are you seriously out of your mind?!” your dad exclaimed back at you. His reaction was so uncalled for that you had to take him off of speakerphone.

And after a long lecture from him later, he simply told you that he wasn’t going to pay for your tuition anymore before hanging up the phone.

Even though you were expecting that kind of reaction from your parents, your father more specifically, you still couldn’t help but feel so…discouraged. You’ve been wanting to be a fashion designer ever since you were little, and your parents’ lack of support did nothing but steal your happiness in fulfilling your dreams.

But at the same time…you felt determined to prove them wrong. You wanted to show them that you weren’t making this change just take the easy way out, you were doing it because you’ve been wanting to pursue this career your whole life. You wanted to show them that you were meant to be working in a fashion studio, not a courtroom.

Fast forward to now, and you’ve graduated from Parsons at the top of your class with a fashion degree, only to soon land a job working as a fashion designer at one of Giorgio Armani’s establishments right here in New York City.

Once the first day of your new job came around, you needed to give the best impression there, making sure to arrive before your boss did. After all, if it weren’t for Tess selecting you as one of the potential candidates as a fashion designer for that establishment, you’d probably still be job hunting by now.

You sat at your desk, eyeing the surroundings of the large studio you were in at this moment. All of the fabrics, mannequins, tools, and machines just waiting to be used. It still felt like a fever dream to you.

The sound of the opening doors of the warehouse startles you, causing you to and some of the designers in the studio to turn around, while the others are still chattering.

Tess walks into the studio and stands in the middle of the room before bringing everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone,” she shouts with a loud clap of her hands, causing the rest of the room to quiet down. “I have decided to put you all in charge of creating the looks for Armani’s upcoming winter fashion show. Each of you will be given a model to work on, and you are welcome to create whatever you’d like, as long as it meets the requirements for the show.”

“But, isn’t the winter fashion show only a month from now?” one of the designers asked.

“Yes, Yes it is, actually,” Tess replies with a nod. “So I expect to see the best work done by you all within the time being. I’d like to see how well my designers can work under pressure.”

You let out a sigh in frustration and held your face in your hands. How the hell were you going to have a look ready in just a month?

Tess checks the time on her watch before looking up at the clock for reassurance. “The models should be arriving any minute now, once they get here I’ll be assigning them out to everyone, and we’ll start today off by taking their measurements and sketching out designs. When you are finished, I—“ Her words are cut off by the sound of the warehouse doors opening again.

You look over again with the rest of the designers to see another staff member enter the room with a variety of models trailing behind her in a single file line. She then approaches Tess to talk to her for a brief moment before soon exiting the warehouse by herself. “Alright everyone,” Tess shouts out again, looking down at the clipboard that was in her hands. “When I call out your name to your assigned model, I would like you to stand up from your desk so they know who you are.”

As Tess begins to assign the models, the sound of a chair swiveling over to your left makes you turn your head, and you see that it was Dina scooching closer to you. “See anyone you might like?” she whispers over to you, her eyes still fixed on the line of models in the room.

“I honestly could care less about who Tess puts me with,” you whisper back to her, leaning back against your chair and crossing one of your legs over the other. “As long as they don’t give me a hard time, I should be good.”

Dina nods in response, she opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the sound of Tess calling out your name. As a result, you rise from your seat and stand behind your desk.

“You’ll be working with Anderson as your model,” she tells you, and you watch as Tess looks over to your model and points at you, indicating her to walk over to where you were.

Intimidation strikes through you as she approaches your desk. You can’t really put your finger on it, but from the first impression, you’re quite convinced it's because of her broad figure that stood out from everyone else. You look over to Dina, to which she looks back at you and simply mouths a ‘good luck’ on your end.

Tess soon does a quick check around the room, making sure each designer has a model to work with. “Alright, now that everyone has an assigned model, you can all get started. Remember now, the winter show is a month from today, so I hope you can all make the best use of your time.” and with that, she exits the studio, leaving you and the rest of the designers to be.

Abby has her side resting against your desk, watching you draw out some looks on your sketchbook. “Just so you know…” she starts, leaning in closer to your right side. “I’m like, the biggest model here, so don’t be surprised when you run out of fabric for that pretty outfit you’ve planned out for me.”

You look over to Abby and roll your eyes before setting your pencil down and opening the side drawer of your desk. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you tell her as you take out the soft tape measure from your drawer and stand up from your seat. “Come on, let me take your measurements now.”

Based on that first interaction alone, you knew that Abby was going to be a distraction for your project, and boy you were right.

This past month has felt like hell for you, and Abby’s cocky, conceited persona wasn’t making it any better for you.

Things were fine at first, at least enough for you to manage. But it wasn’t until the second fitting that she’s been starting to really get on your nerves.

The fitting room in the Armani establishment was spacious, each designer/model pair had their spot to do the fittings and make any adjustments if needed.

Abby walks over to your side of the fitting room fully dressed in her runway outfit. You had beautifully created a navy blue suit that complimented her freckled skin and blue eyes perfectly, and the entire outfit had Swarovski crystals sewn all over the place. It was a timeless and classic look for the show.

It’s a shame that your model has to be so arrogant for the time being.

You look over to her and snap your fingers. “Stand over there,” you tell her, pointing over to the small, round altar that was next to you. Abby simply obliges and stands up on the altar to face you, both of her hands crossed at her front.

You notice this and walk over to her, grabbing at her hands. “I need your hands at your sides, you’re a model, not a security guard.” you tell her sternly, separating her hands so each one is at her side. You then sit down on the stool behind you, bringing yourself down to face her lower half so you can check the fitting of her suit pants.

Starting at the bottom of her pants and making your way up, the pants seem to fit well on her so far. Given Abby’s large build, the fit is as snug as can be, but not too tight to where it would make her uncomfortable when walking. If you had made it any tighter, you’re convinced that the fabric might rip.

However, it wasn’t until you look at the waistline of the pants. For some reason, that area looked unusually tighter than it was compared to the last fitting. The zipper on her pants looked like it was going to burst. It’s almost as if she was hiding something underneath…

You tap the side of her thigh to get her attention, causing her to tilt her head down. ”What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the slight bulge that was sticking out of her pants.

She simply smirks back at you and shakes her head. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” she mumbles out, looking back up.

Your eyes were still fixed on her face, and you grabbed at her crotch, causing her to slightly jerk back. You knew damn well what it was that she had in those pants.

“Jesus,” she says, looking back down at you. “Chill out, will you?”

“Take it off,” you tell her sternly, standing back up from the stool. “I’m not going to have my look completely ruined as a result from one of your little games.”

You were close to having an outburst in the middle of the fitting room since you were starting to get some looks from some of the other designers and models in the room, including Dina. It was a good thing that Tess wasn’t there to see it though.

Abby simply rolls her eyes at you and clears her throat before stepping off of the altar and exiting the fitting room to go change. The two of you were being quite immature about this, but you were seriously in need of your look to be perfect for the show, and Abby was keeping you from doing so.

A couple more weeks pass by and before you know it, the day of the show is just right around the corner from now.

Your shift at the studio had just ended, and people were starting to gather their things to leave, while you still sat by your large mannequin, making adjustments and adding touches to your look.

Dina walks up behind you and taps your shoulder, causing you to pull out one of your headphones from your ear and turn around.

“Hey,” she says. “Some of us are going to head out to Dalton’s for drinks. Wanna come with?”

You shake your head in response. “I can’t, I really have to finish this look in time for the show, I have to make sure everything’s perfect.”

You hear her let out a sigh and nod. “Alright well, just don’t stress yourself out, okay?” she asks, gently squeezing your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” she says, and you nod back at her as you watch her put her bag over her shoulder and exit the studio.

Once she leaves, you notice Tess at walking towards you at the corner of your eye. “Hey kid,” she says leaning against your desk with her arms crossed, keys jingling in one of her hands. “You plan on leaving soon?”

You let out a sigh and turned your head to face her. “Just let me stay a little longer, Tess…I promise I’ll be out of here soon.”

She sighs back and hesitates for a moment while rubbing the back of her neck. “Alright, I’ll give you an hour, but that’s it. I don’t want you spending the night here.” She then gets off your desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow, the doors will lock automatically once you leave.”

You nod in response and thank her before watching her walk away from the dim lighting that shined on your side of the studio. You were instantly relieved to be able to have some time for yourself to work on the suit.

However, that doesn’t last long when another set of footsteps enter the studio and begin to approach you from behind once again.

A large hand grabs at your shoulder, this time causing you to jump up and turn around in fear for a moment before realizing who it is. “Jesus, Anderson…you scared the hell out of me,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “What are you even doing here? Your final fitting isn’t until Friday.”

Abby lets out a chuckle at your frightened reaction and shakes her head. “I just came here to get my car keys,” she says, grabbing them off the shelf where she had left them. “I left them last time I was here.”

You rolled your eyes and stood back up to face your desk and away from her. “Well, now that you have your keys, can you go now? I need to keep working.”

As you were about to put your headphones back on, Abby began to speak once again. “What’s your deal?” she asks you.

You let out a huff and set your phone down before looking back at her. “My deal is that I’ve had to deal with your arrogance this past month and it’s been driving me insane. All I want right now is to have this time to myself so I can finish this suit in time for the show.”

The smirk that was growing on Abby’s face right now was so big you could practically see it from your peripheral vision. She then begins to walk around until she’s behind you on your desk. “It seems like you could loosen up a bit, you know…” she tells you as she slightly leans in closer to your ear, trapping you between your desk and her chest. You could already feel a familiar bulge poking at your lower back. It was that same bulge that you were just grabbing at in the fitting room not too long ago.

You roll your eyes at her in response. “Is that so?” you whisper back to her, just enough so she can hear you. “And what might that be, exactly?”

Her hands make their way down to your waist, grabbing you and turning you around so you are now face-to-face with her. “How about I show you, yeah?” she whispers to you, to which you nod desperately.

Despite how much you couldn’t stand her, you really couldn’t help but be into her at the same time, and not only has she also been aware of it, but she felt the same way with you too.

You feel her hands move from your waist down to the buttons of your pants, and you look down at your lap as a result. “Let’s see what we have here now…” she murmurs, slowly undoing your pants and sliding them off your legs and to the ground. Once your pants were fully removed, she helped give you a boost so you could sit up on your desk.

Abby instantly opens your legs the second your ass hits your desk, immediately eyeing the visible wet patch that was seeping through your black underwear. “Well well well, what do we have here…” she mutters out, hooking a finger underneath your underwear and shifting it to the side, causing your wet pussy to be exposed to her and the cold air of the studio. “This all for me?” she asks, looking back up at you.

All you can simply do is bite your lip and nod as you try to resist the cold air hitting against your pussy. “Fuck, yes, Abs…it’s all for you…” you whine out to her.

“That’s what I thought,” she mutters back. Two of her fingers make their way into your cunt without warning, causing you to jerk back and involuntarily close your thighs shut. However, her other hand makes her way into the middle just in time before you do so. “Nuh-uh, don’t get shy on me now, princess,” she says, forcing your legs back open to stand in the middle. “You’ve been so bold with me this past month, so you’re not backing out of this now.”

Her fingers successfully go into your pussy the second time around, causing a moan to escape from your mouth as a result. Abby’s fingers were huge, to say the least, but they managed to stretch your pussy out so well. There’s no way that your pussy can’t take anything bigger than this.

But what Abby was about to pull out next was going to prove you wrong.

As Abby’s fingers continue to pump inside you, she begins to undo her jeans with her free hand, effortlessly getting them open and slightly pushing them down to her thighs. She then digs that same hand into her boxers and pulls out her black strap-on, causing your eyes to widen at the immense size. She was fucking huge.

“A-Abby…” you stammer out to her, quickly shaking your head. “That—That’s not gonna fit…It’s too—“

“Yes it will,” she says, cutting off your words. “My cock’s gonna fit. You’ll see.”

Her fingers quickly slide out of your cunt, leading you to whimper at the loss. With both of her hands now, she rubs her cock against your folds, collecting some of your wetness before sliding it into your tight hole. The stretch of the strap was a bit uncomfortable at first, but after a moment, you were shocked to see how well your pussy was easily taking it from the tip down to the base. It really was the perfect fit.

Abby smirks as she looks down at the piece of silicone that connected your bodies. “See? I told you it’ll fit,” she mutters out, bottoming out completely inside you. “This fucking pussy was made to take my cock.”

You were already starting to feel dizzy over Abby’s cock nestling inside your pussy. You were desperate for some movement.

“A-Abby…” you whine out to her, squeezing her bicep. “N-Need you t-to move…”

“What’s that, princess? You want me to move my cock?” she asks, to which you nod in response. “Need me to thrust my big cock in that desperate little pussy of yours? Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do just that for you.”

And with that, she begins to slowly thrust inside you. You could practically feel it all within her movements, the girth, the veins, hell, even the tip would kiss at your cervix every time she bottomed out into you.

Abby grabs at both of your thighs, slowly starting to speed up her pace. “I think I can go a little faster now, don’t you think? Your pretty pussy’s already doing so well for me, angel…”

“Fuck, y-yes, Abby…f-faster…” you slur out as you throw your head back in pleasure, gripping both of your hands onto your desk while she continues to thrust inside of you.

One of her hands leaves your thigh and grabs at your jaw, tilting it down to face her. “Look at that now, my girl’s getting so cockdrunk for me…I bet it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Abby’s gaze soon brings down to your chest, smirking once she notices your hard nipples poking through your shirt. She then lets go of your jaw and pulls your shirt up to your tits, watching in awe at the mere sight of them. “No bra?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you to be such a slut like that…It’s almost as if you were waiting for this to happen.”

At this point, your brain was losing focus, and you couldn’t figure out what Abby was saying to you right now. Once she sped up her pace again, all you could think about now was getting to your release.

Abby now has her gaze focused on the sight of your pussy, watching as it squeezes and contracts around the strap with every thrust. “Looks like you’re getting close, princess. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?”

“Y-yes, f-fuck! I-I’m getting close…” you whine back to her, leading her to thrust even faster inside of you, your moans soon getting loud enough for them to practically echo inside the whole studio.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak. Your cunt pulsed a few more times around Abby’s strap before cumming completely with a loud moan of her name, causing a white ring to form around it.

As you began to catch your breath, Abby slowly pulled herself out of you, groaning as she saw a thick white string of your cum connecting between your pussy and the tip of her strap before soon breaking. She then ran her fingers through her length, collecting all of your release before soon sticking them inside of your mouth while it was still agape.

After sucking her fingers clean, she pulls them out of your mouth and tucks her strap back into her boxers before putting her jeans back on. You watch as she briefly gets down onto her knees and brings her face into your fucked out pussy, gently licking and sucking it clean, savoring each bit of it as she did so.

Once you were all clean, Abby rose back to her feet, helping you with your underwear and with the rest of your clothes as well. Her hands then moved from the button of your pants back down to your hips, guiding you off of your desk and back on your feet. You stumble a little bit into her at the sudden movement.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks softly, catching you in her arms.

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m okay…just a little worn out.” you pant out to her as you gain back your composure to turn around towards your desk and gather up your things to leave.

“Well, at least let me give you a ride back to your place,” she insists, grabbing her keys off your desk. “It’s already late outside, and I don’t think it’s quite safe for you to be walking around out there at this time.”

You hesitate for a moment at first. You’d honestly hate to inconvenience Abby to give you a ride home, but given that she was the one offering, you didn’t seem to mind too much about it. In all fairness, it was already late hours in the city, and given the damage she’d done to your legs, there was no way you were going to last walking for five minutes down the street. So you end up accepting her offer.

“Yeah, sure…I’m not stopping you, honestly…” you tell her with a chuckle as you put your bag over your shoulder, ready to head out.

You then follow along beside Abby as the two of you exit the establishment and make your way to wherever her car is situated. Abby opens the passenger door to let you in first before letting herself in on the other side. She then starts up her car before merging into the city’s busy roads.

The ten-minute drive flew by surprisingly fast, and before you knew it, she was now parked in front of your apartment complex. She leans in to give you a quick kiss before soon pulling away. “So, I’ll see you on Friday, then?” she asks.

You can’t help but smirk back at her, even though you were biting your lip to hide it. “I’ll see you on Friday, Anderson.” you tell her with a nod before opening the door to let yourself out.

But Abby doesn’t leave just yet. Instead, she makes sure that you get into your apartment safe and sound. Once your lights were on, that was her cue to go.

You watch from your apartment window as she drives back into the busy roads, soon disappearing from your view.

And for the first time this month, you have to admit that you’re now actually looking forward to seeing her again.

a/n: i hope you guys liked this fic!! i might make another part if this goes well?? but aside from that my next fic will be bfm!abby for those who are waiting, i promise 🤞🏼 lmk if you’d like to be tagged for when i post it!!

(also ty for 700, i love you guys 🫶🏻)

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yurinaa-world · 29 days

Note

hello!! platonic dr ratio with a teen!student reader who excels at one particular subject but is bad or average on the others? also lacks social skills

(kinda inspired by me lol 💀)

Characters: Dr. Ratio platonic! x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: with student reader who excels at one subject but is bad at the others + lacks social skills

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes, got lil personal

𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜

He’s so strict about your grades, looking at you with disappointment as if a parent would when their child an F. What? does the information just go through and out one ear? (it does for me 😀) Can your brain handle one sentence at a time since it doesn’t look like it to him with these embarrassing grades?

He immediately got you into summer school so you could at least try to get good at other subjects, one subject won’t get you a future. Even worse with fact you can’t even talk without staring endlessly at your paper contemplating just to ask him the most simple question.

The man knows no mercy, making you write out several essays over the whole summer but just like every teacher that wants to suck the souls from students he’ll make you plan every tad bit of detail, even refuse you from starting to write if one detail isn’t explained and well thought out enough for him.

Then oh don’t forget to make the rough draft of the essay (it’s more like writing the real essay itself with the way he’s being strict with every typo & grammar mistake, but oh don’t think you're going to get this using simple and basic words like “in conclusion.” or “well, I believe.” Throw those out the window along with every other basic sentence that people use to put up the word count or just get the whole thing over with. He isn't accepting it. No exceptions.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Blank.

You’ve been staring at the next part of your sentence but unsure how to use the word “Magnanimity”. How were you even supposed to use this in a sentence?! (he made you pick several high-level words to use in an essay), you look up to silently curse your teacher, Mr. Ratio out in your head before immediately looking back down when your eyes connect.

You begin to contemplate, that maybe jumping out the window ain’t bad, it might be your only way to get out of here. you sigh, just giving up on your constant stalling, getting up from your chair (with your paper in hand) and walking over to your teacher, dreading every step you take.

Before stopping at his desk, “Mr. Ratio, could you tell me what the definition is for magnanimity again?” He just sighs, closing up the book he always reads. (You don’t know why he always reads the same thing, it’s so boring.)

“Magnanimity means the loftiness of spirit enabling one to bear trouble calmly, to disdain meanness and pettiness, and to display a noble generosity.”

you stare at him blankly, he wasn’t kidding, he seriously expected you to know what he was saying?! “I’m sorry but what does that even mean?” you whisper your voice cracking with frustration, you just feel a blood vessel getting bigger.

He sighs once again “Showing kindness towards an enemy or you had been defeated in battle. using it in a sentence would be like he showed magnanimity towards his enemy, understand?”

“Oh, okay. Thank you Mr. Ratio” You nod taking in his words. “Let me see your essay.” He tells you out of the blue, holding his hand out to see your paper, which makes your mouth dry. “you have something written, correct? Let me see it.”

You give him your paper and watch in nervousness before he begins to read out loud “A great man once spoke mighty wor-“ “Mr ratio please read it in your head!” you cut him off with panic, yet what a fool you are since when was he merciful? “a great man once spoke mighty words…”

Listening to him read your essay made you cringe and close your ears. He’s the worst!

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #honkai dr ratio #veritas ratio #veritas x reader

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starlighz · 3 months

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So the reveal that Lilith is in Heaven got me wondering.

The theory that Alastor made a deal with Lilith was spawned because they both had been absent for seven years.

If that is correct, this would make at least two people Lilith made deals with, because Lute also made one with her.

When Zestial explains that they thought Alastor had died his response was "I just took a well earned sabbatical".

But when Zestial asks why he would do something as foolish as helping the hotel? "That is for me to know".

Interesting.

Let's have a look at the pilot when he explained why he wants to help:

"I've lacked inspiration for decades. My work became mundane. Lacking focus. Aimless."

He says it is because of boredom. But to me it reads that doing the same thing over and over has become too predictable and he wants to find new ways to install fear.

This doesn't mean he is making deals left and right, no. He COULD, yes. But this won't benefit him for his ultimate goal, whatever this might be. When Rosie suggested that he'd make deals in that territory, he declines, doesn't even seem interested in the slightest.

His goal is extremely hard to read. Because one hand, a deal must be beneficial for both parties in some way, otherwise you wouldn't enter one.

He made a deal with Vaggie to help with the commercial on the condition that he wouldn't have to interact with television technology ever again. He would have entered a deal with Charlie that he'd help with the hotel, just that there'd be no magic voodoo strings attached.

When he does make a deal with Charlie, it is information in exchange for a favour, not her soul. Charlie definitely will have a play in his plan. He could have had her soul, but he just wanted that favour, at his time of choosing. He wants to guide her, but not for selfless reasons and definitely not for her sake. He wanted to make a deal with her as soon as possible, so that they'd had a contract.

Whatever his deal was probably didn't involve more power, because in the final song The Show Must Go On, part of his breakdown included that he isn't free, he wants to unclip his wings. And he almost died because of it.

What makes me wondering is: How does Husk know that Alastor himself is bound to someone? Is it because of physical characteristics like some people theorized? Or is it because his behaviour changed?

And what is Lute's whole deal? She said "Your deal is done and I am in charge now"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin lilith #lilith hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lilith #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute #hazbin lute #alastor #alastor the radio demon #lilith magne #lilith morningstar #hazbin analysis #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin theory

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billthedrake · 5 months

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I was inspired by the latest hot story by @maturedadsandmen. He gave me the blessing to write a riff on the premise. It started out as a prequel but became something else. Thanks to him for the inspiration and for the permission to let me adapt his idea.

WHAT HAPPENS IN FRANKFURT

"So, Trent..." I said as we settled into the business-class seats on the transatlantic leg of our flight. "Whadya have to promise Becky to get to come for a week?"

My friend and golf buddy shrugged. He's a big guy, 6'5", real muscular with a good deal of middle aged padding on his thick, ex-jock beef. Good thing I had scored the plush seats with my miles, because I couldn't imagine the poor guy squeezing into economy. Even now in his jeans and button-down shirt, the sight of him got me going. From the twinkle in his eyes, I could tell he was maybe feeling the same about me.

"It's not a week," he corrected.

"Pretty close," I smiled. We were flying to Frankfurt for the Chiefs-Dolphins game, but tacking on a few days in Bavaria for the typical guy-trip stuff. Beer halls and outdoors time. Stuff our wives had no interest in.

"I didn't have to promise Becky anything... what, is that something Heather expects?" he asked with genuine surprise.

I nodded. "Fuck yeah, that's something she expects," I said. "She's already planning the Napa wine trip."

Trent smiled. He had a personality that was laid back almost to the point of being taciturn, so I always found him especially handsome when he smiled.

Yeah, me and Trent have a thing. A sexual connection, an affair, whatever you want to call it. Sometimes we talk about it, sometimes we sweep the complications under the rug. But it had been a solid six months since our last time having sex and with the prospect of this trip together for six days, there was just this unspoken sexual tension between us. SOMETHING was gonna happen, all right.

"Didn't she just do that for one of her girls trips?" my friend chuckled.

Our wives got along OK but weren't close friends outside of my and Trent's bond. I was always surprised that Trent was able to keep up with my wife's doings.

"Oh yeah," I said. "Only she wants to go back with just me. You know, do something romantic. I don't even wanna know how much the cases of wine are gonna set me back."

That got a belly laugh out of my buddy. It was a running joke between us. He was the hunky ex-football player who ran his own construction company. I was the number-crunching corporate exec who admittedly had the MUCH deeper bisexual streak, to the point I carried around a lot of what-ifs in my middle age. But I was the one who was more bro-ish. Maybe I wasn't quite the sexist asshole I played up, but Trent gave me some real eye rolls from time to time.

"You can afford it, buddy," he chastised me. "And a lot fucking more."

I started to reply but he held up a finger in warning. "Don't you even pull that 'happy wife, happy life' BS." He was smirking.

"Dude... you gonna bust my balls this whole trip?"

I saw a naughty look sweep across my buddys masculine, handsome face as he leaned. "Whaddya think, Josh?"

I bit my lip and did as casual a crotch adjustment as I could. Trent had given me a full-on boner.

I knew Trent was chubbed too. It had been THAT long since we'd fooled around. Sometimes it was lack of opportunity, but my buddy likes to put the breaks on a lot. Probably for the best, since I had zero self-control, around him or in general. When I was 35 I had to vow never to go to Vegas again. This affair had a different kind of high stakes, but it felt like an extension of my addictive personality.

But my hunky buddy was pulling back now, putting in his earbud and pulling up his iPad to watch some shows he'd downloaded.

I had a book. Some stupid spy novel that let me get my mind off of work. Trent teased me for bringing the office with me, and on the first leg I'd caught up on a bunch of emails. I'd have more stuff to do in Germany, but I'd worry about that later. Trent told me I should set boundaries with my company, but hell it was my work travel that was getting us these business class seats and the hotel rooms on points and I'd probably cover the majority of our meals, too...

I took a breath and paused. I had this dickish thing where I'd enjoy treating people in my life - spoiling my wife or picking up the tab with my buddies - then I'd get resentful or controlling. I was lucky to have a travel buddy like Trent. Even if we didn't suck or fuck at all this next week. Though God knows I hope we did.

I put on my noise-canceling headphones and picked up my book.

****

"You gentlemen here for the game?" the concierge asked.

I'd booked us at a chain hotel in the old city. The guy at the desk was in the typical hotel uniform - vest and tie - and I was immediately attracted to him. Early 30s I'd guess, light brown hair, almost boyish in his handsome looks, though he had the kind of athletic build that comes with doing sports, maybe soccer, or rock climbing or something. I had a soft spot for German guys, I'll admit. They always seemed to have that boy next door thing going on, with a naughty side beneath.

Or maybe it was just the slightly clipped, more formal accent.

"Yes, sir," Trent said. "You got a lot of folks in town for it, I suppose." It was a trip to see my not-so-chatty buddy get all Midwest now that he was abroad.

I couldn't tell if the desk man was trying to humor us, but he replied back to Trent's small talk with a smile. "It seems so, yes."

I felt like I had to pull Trent away. He was asking for restaurant and bar recommendations, asking for the guy's first name, the whole works.

"What?" he asked, not quite annoyed as I shook my head in the elevator.

"Dude, you don't know how much I'm looking forward to a hot shower. Wash some of that jet lag off."

He seemed contrite. "You should have told me buddy. I honestly didn't think we'd get into the room early." It was nearly noon, but we were ahead of check-in time a little.

"I guess it'll be good to stretch the legs some this afternoon, get in some sun and fresh air?"

He nodded. "Looks like a nice day."

We rolled our luggage down to our rooms and entered the clean but soulless business hotel room.

"You go first," he said. "I'm gonna call Becky and let her know we're here." I knew from Trent's account that his wife was an early riser, a yoga devotee who got an early start on her day. I'd text Heather in a bit and call her later.

"Yep," I said, already pulling off my sweatshirt and kicking off my sneakers.

The shower felt good. No, it felt great. I could have stood under for much longer, but I didn't want to hold things up. I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and turned off the water. I was just as quick drying off and putting product in my hair. I took one look in the mirror. Not so bad for 46, I thought. I'd gotten into Crossfit lately and tried to eat clean, saving beer and junk food for game days or the nineteenth hole with the guys. I was shorter than Trent, 5'9" and some, even if I rounded up to 5'10" when I told people my height. Everything was looking pretty sculpted and hard and compact, and the thick blond fur on my torso was groomed and trimmed.

"You fucking narcissist," I thought. I wrapped the towel around my waist and opened the door, letting the steam out.

"Damn, that felt nice," I said to Trent. He was waiting for me, stripped down to his boxer briefs. It took me a second to realize what was in his hand, but it was a portable enema kit.

"I know you wanna hit the sights, buddy... but maybe I can clean out for you, first?" he asked. An excited glint in his eye but also some embarrassment. It had taken some convincing to get my hunky friend to bottom for me and even more sweet talking to get him to do a deeper prep. But it turns out Trent loved getting his ass eaten out, and he knew I'd go at it more freely and fervently if he was squeaky clean.

"God yes," I said. "I guess vacation starts for real, huh?" I said. Already I was chubbing beneath the towel.

He nodded with a grin, clearly excited by how easily I got turned on.

I let him do his thing while I texted Heather and answered a couple of work emails. I set down my phone and took off my towel, hanging it up in the closet. I pulled down the sheets on one of the double beds. My dick wasn't hard at first but as I lay down naked, I thought of Trent's hunky ass and meaty body. I thought of the reception guy and what it would be like to watch him and Trent go at it before I came in and fucked that German stud hard and fast from behind.

I was rock hard now. I thought of picking my phone back up and scrolling through some porn but decided I'd enjoy the more purely mental excitement I was filling. Just enjoy the moment of being in a hotel room with my good buddy and sometimes fuck buddy. For a whole week. I shut my eyes and let my sexual fantasies visualize themselves.

"Dang," I heard, snapping my eyes open. Maybe I'd been dozing some, but apparently my prick wasn't. "I never get sick of seeing that cock of yours."

I'm not huge, but I'm big, and my endowment looks bigger on my frame. I smiled and spread my legs, showing my meat off to Trent.

"OK if I suck it first?" he said, stepping up. In the big mitt of his right hand he had a small bottle of lube, which he set on the night stand.

"When have I ever said no to that?" I asked.

"Bro," Trent retorted, "You're such an ass-man... you can have a one-track mind sometimes." I felt defensive and I was gonna say something, but Trent got on all fours and crawled toward me. He was such a big guy, tall and beefy, that it was never anything short of mind-blowing to see him in such a posture. Already his hand was on my quad muscle, rubbing it in a way that sent electricity right to my boner. "It's OK bud. It's a good look on you," he said in a hushed, sexy voice.

Then he leaned forward to get a closer look at my crotch. Inches away close, and I could feel his breath on my dong. Trent's brown eyes were on my dick, only flitting up to my face occasionally.

"What happens in Frankfurt, right?" he growled.

"Fuck yeah," I hissed. When I started up with my buddy, I just thought I was scratching that bisexual itch. And yeah it was naughty fun. Clearly I fantasized about other men, too. But I was coming face to face with the reality that no one turned me on so much or so effortlessly like my 52 year old friend.

His first licks were a get-reacquainted approach. It had been a while since he'd taken care of me. I sucked him too, and on a blue moon bottomed for the stud. But this is what we did the first time we fooled around, and it felt like our own private anniversary ritual.

"That's it, buddy," I hissed. Trent had that combo of not-quite-skilled and very enthusiastic that appealed to me more than I realized. Outside of my times with Trent, I'd only had dude sex a couple times behind Heather's back, and those guys were better cocksuckers. But not better, you know? They weren't Trent Grayson.

My buddy coughed some on my dick as he swallowed more. Not a gag, but a grunt that said he was fighting back that initial reflex. Instantly my fingers went to the back of his neck. "Easy, bro... you got this."

He did, too. After that initial shock, he was working more of me into his gullet, over and over, faster and faster.

"FUCK!" I gasped, my eyes wide as I watched my best bud deep throat me with silky steady mouth strokes. "Buddy... if you don't let up," I warned, my breath ragged. I normally wasn't this quick at the draw, but I hadn't gotten off the last couple of days. My balls were drawn up tight.

Trent spit me out, a satisfied smile on his face. He knew he'd done a great job.

"You been practicing?" I asked. "You haven't done THAT before," I said.

"I may have gotten a toy to work on," he admitted with a wink.

"Yeah?" I asked, my chest heaving in excitement. My dick was twitching in time with my heartbeat. "When was that, bud?"

Those brown eyes were hungry and playful and sexy as fuck. "When we booked this trip."

"And here I was worried I was gonna push up against some boundaries with you this week," I said.

Trent nodded and leaned up. He was excited all right, his medium-sized tool rock hard and wet at the tip. My buddy had a beefy build that was something shy of a dad bod, but he was real and muscled head to toe, and his size meant he carried the mid-section girth well. "You probably will," he answered honestly. "Hell, I know you well, Josh," he added.

"Yeah," I admitted. Chastised some. I was the one of us who got carried away. But this man was so incredible, body and soul.

Trent didn't seem too fazed. Or maybe the sexual heat was winning out. He turned to face away from me so I could see that broad back, that short hair cut with the gray fringe and the balding spot on top, that round daddy ass fitting a tall, athletic man.

That ass was backing up toward, the buns getting closer. Trent didn't shave down there, he somehow naturally had a smooth ass, except for deep in the crack.

"You gonna...?" I asked. Or started to ask. Already the big guy was leaning forward and spreading his legs, opening that crevice right up for my gaze. Softly furry with that neglected crinkled pucker in the center, freshly cleaned for me.

My hands were already on his butt doing the rest of the work to part the cheeks as I dove in.

"Oh god yes," Trent hissed. "I've been thinking about this... so much."

I licked softly at first. Giving some gentle kisses beween a more exploratory approach to his hole and trench. Then I gripped his ass more tightly and started drilling in. I couldn't even say I was an expert at rimming. I just loved it and went at it, hard. Slurping and sucking. Munching and tonguing. Alternating my moves in part because I just fricking loved it all.

Trent loved it too. I still think he had hang ups when it came to anal. I know I did. We were two men unwilling to relinquish what we considered the more masculine role. I'd probably put up with his misgivings this week, and he might try to break down my hesitation to bottom. We'd see. For now, though, it was clear that I was even more into eating out a male cunt than actual pussy, and Trent enjoyed the oral treatment to his hole.

Finally, I pulled back, practically growling into his spit wet trench. "Dude, I gotta be in you. Now."

I expected some pushback, but instead Trent was scrambling his big body. Moving forward and pivoting around. His prick was outright dripping now, a thin strand of clear sap swayed from his tip. I wondered how many days he'd held off from sex or jerking off.

Hurriedly he reached over and got some lube in his palm, eagerly reaching back behind. "Let me ride," he said. "It's been a while."

I nodded and rode out a deep couple of breaths while he lined my prick up to his wet buns and settled back on me.

The initial penetration stung some for him, but quickly he relaxed.

"That's nice," he muttered as he sank down a couple more inches. He got a grin on his face. "I love how hard you get, Josh."

"Jesus buddy," I hissed. I'd had to sweet talk him into barebacking a little over a year ago. Now, every time I entered him was pure bliss. Silky, warm, and drum-tight. "I'm like that everytime I'm with you."

"I know," Trent replied. "I fucking love it." He settled further back and my cock popped past the last bit of tightness. Suddenly, Trent was sitting all the way in my lap and his guts were gripping my boner in spasms.

"You good?" I asked with concern. But a little hesitant to ask, because this was all VERY good for me.

"Yep," he said. He reached down and wrapped his lubey fist around his hard on, smearing this own sap to add to the slickness. His initial strokes made his ass clench down tighter on me, then the self pleasuring helped his body relax into it.

Within a minute of settling down on me, Trent began to lift his burly body up off my dick a couple of inches, only to swivel back down.

This was the almost feminine part of our mating that Trent felt self conscious about. Working my bone with a slutty hip motion. But I'd told him that starting slower is much better for me, and it turned out to be better for Trent, letting him build up the stimulation of his prostate as we locked eyes.

Our fuck was silent now, other than the sloshy slick sounds where his ass connected to my dick and the soft bounce of the bed. Trent's a heavy man, in the mid 200s on the scale, and my dense muscle added to it, too.

I watched him get into it, watch the pleasure grow on his face. This is what surprised me with Trent. I thought sex with dudes was simply about getting my rocks off, but I loved giving this man pleasure. Giving him an orgasm. I was about to give him one now.

"You're getting close," he said in his deep gravely voice. Not a question. Trent could read it on my face, register my impending cum before I did.

"Oh yeah," I hissed. It was arriving fast now, that crest of pleasure, like an ocean swell that breaks right in front of you. My fingers gripped his hard quads, maybe a little too hard, just seconds before I felt his hot spray of semen jet onto my bare chest muscle. Then another, then another. All heavy wads of bleachy-floral seed raining onto me. I was pounding out a mammoth load from this beautiful man.

My own cock was firing now, matching Trent's in its heaviness. "Fuck!" I whimpered. Trent sometimes teased me for the way my voice would get higher pitched when I came. But our nearly simultaneous O meant we were synched in our lust and deep connection.

Finally Trent's hips slowed and he eased off. Some semen came out on the dismount but he clenched up to stop the rest as he plopped down on the spare side of the bed. The double mattress didn't hold out two big bodies easily, Trent's especially but he kind of snuggled up to me in an uncharacteristic intimacy and rested his face on my shoulder. Lazily his hands ran along my torso, smearing his own cum into my chest fur.

"You have an incredible body, Josh," he said.

My dick hadn't gone down. I was drained and not ready to fuck again or anything, but I was still pretty keyed up. I kissed his forehead. I didn't want to push the guy too far but figured he'd initiated this closeness. "Yeah?" I asked. I knew we enjoyed a physical chemistry, but Trent had never complimented me like this, even though I sometimes gushed over his body.

He ran his hand down my ripped abs. I didn't have the body of a 26 year old, but I kept my core tight and knotted.

"I've been afraid to tell you," he said.

"Really?" I asked. Trent didn't seem to be afraid of things.

"You can get a little conceited," he said, brusquely.

This was the Trent-and-Josh thing. Teasing each other. Humble guy and the corporate exec. But something about his words seemed to cut deeper. "I don't know what to say," I said softly.

He patted my stomach. "You're you, Josh. I understand ya, buddy. And I know I'm not easy to get along with." His hand drifted lower and wrapped around my cock, which was still rigid as just a minute earlier. "In all fairness, you have good reason to be conceited."

I wanted to kiss this guy, so bad, but that was against our bro code. "If I get to be too much, buddy..." I started. "Well, I just don't want this week to be weird."

Trent looked up. "It's not gonna be weird, Josh. Football... beer... hot steamy hotel sex... what more can you want?"

"Nothing, man," I growled. I enjoyed the soft touch of his hand as he explored my dick. Finally with a sigh, I spoke up, "I will absolutely fall asleep if we keep lying here... maybe get out for a bit?"

Trent didn't answer but just scooted away from our tight embrace, edging his big tall body off the bed. I watched him walk to the bathroom to clean off.

Somehow, the spell had been broken.

#drakestories

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thedroneranger · 1 year

Text

A Little Time Alone

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Précis: Bradley and his wife have been busy with everything except each other.

Note: One of two entires for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm love song playlist challenge. This fic is inspired by Luke Comb's The Kind of Love We Make.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut.

Word count: 3.7k

It had been weeks since we spent any time together.

Between the new curriculum and latest batch of pilots, I was coming home late every night and leaving early every morning.

At first, she was doing her damnedest to stay up until I got home. Each night, before sliding into bed, I would slip her tablet from her clutches and remove her askew reading glasses, placing both on her nightstand. Once I settled into bed, unconsciously, she would snuggle into me, allowing me to fall asleep with a smile.

However, lately, it was clear she had been sleeping for hours. Tucked into bed, fast asleep with just her hair peeking between the bedding. I would slide into my side and do my best not to disturb her.

Each morning, I didn’t leave without giving her a goodbye kiss, but guilt always edged my decision to not wake her. Instead, I would press my lips to her forehead or cheek, whichever was exposed.

Things seemed to take a turn after her plan to surprise me with lunch on base was foiled. Normally, she would coordinate with Maverick, if he were around, or the security guard she had befriended to sneak into my office with sandwiches from our favorite deli.

Of course, she always wore a dress, which made it easy for me to bend her over my desk for a pleasurable finish.

We had a text code so I knew to expect her. The last time she plotted a lunchtime date, I, unbeknownst, stood her up. Unable to check my texts all morning, I never saw her message and never went to my office. It wasn’t until later in the evening I saw several messages and a couple missed calls.

I was devastated and wanted to apologize in person. However, she was always asleep when I got home. I even tried to call a few times during the day, but I never managed to catch her. After that, we exchanged fewer and fewer texts throughout each day.

Even our weekends had been spent separately. I found myself on base more and more for special events and training. Hell, the last couple weekends, I even slept there.

She, on the other hand, has been a godsend, representing us both at family get-togethers and other personal events.

I can only imagine how she felt, likely making up excuses for my lack of presence.

The whole situation made me absolutely miserable.

“Bradley. Bradley. Bradley!” My head jerked to find Maverick intensely staring at me.

“Yeah, Mav?” I coughed to clear my throat and gave him my full attention.

He and I were alone in his office. Maverick and I were co-instructors for an upcoming class. We were going over the lesson plan when my thoughts drifted. “What’s on your mind, Bradley?” Mav put down his pen, leaned back in his chair and looked at me.

Shifting in my chair, I noticed the tension in my shoulders and that I’d been holding my breath. Subtly untensing, I spoke. “I can’t remember the last time I spent time with my wife, and she’s getting distant.”

Maverick leaned forward. He loved her like a daughter. Actually, I was convinced he liked her more than me. Mav was always reminding me not to let work ruin our relationship.

Not that he had room to talk.

Although, he and Penny have appeared rock solid since getting back together. Once Maverick proposed and they wed, Penny was the happiest I’ve ever seen her.

“Bradley—”

I cut off Mav. “I know, I know. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Go home,” he said.

“What?” My eyebrow cocked.

“Go home. Report back on Monday,” Mav said. We stared at each other for almost a full minute. “Go fix it.” The tone in Mav’s voice told me he was about to make it an order, so I nodded, gave a quick salute and dashed out.

Not having been home at a decent hour in nearly a month, I forgot what traffic was like. It had me doubting if I would be home any earlier than as of late.

Her vehicle was in the driveway when I finally pulled up.

My feet were carrying me faster than my brain was processing. My mind was trying to get my hands under control so I could get the key in the door, when the door flung open.

A gasp left her lips as our gazes locked. “Hey, stranger.” She did her best to hide a smirk. Unfazed, I walked toward her, forcing her to back up and allow me into the house. Once far enough in, I closed the door.

“Hey,” I replied. My eyes raked across her form. She was wearing a short red sundress and some strappy sandals. My cock twitched. I could not recall the last time I saw her in anything other than our fluffy duvet.

“I should go—I don’t want to be late.” She walked toward me and got on her toes to kiss my cheek. However, I turned my head and captured her lips with mine. She hesitated for a second, but melted into me as I wrapped an arm around her waist and the other hugged her ribcage. Her hand slid from my bicep up to my neck.

We separated just enough to look into each other’s eyes. “I hate that I forgot what you feel like,” she said.

The comment made me hold her tighter. “We can’t have that,” I said as a matter of fact. Her eyebrow and lips quirked. I smiled at her. “I’ve been missing you more than you can imagine,” I confessed.

She was still looking at me with a tight smile. “I may have an idea.” She pursed her lips and looked off the side. Then, she looked back at me and pressed her lips to mine. As we kissed, I uncoiled an arm from around her, so I could reach back to lock the door.

She heard the click. “I have to go,” she said with her lips still against mine.

Again, we separated just enough to look at one another. “Cancel.” My voice was more demanding than either of us expected. She looked surprised but not offended. “We need a little time alone.” I sounded softer. “So tonight, I’m only gonna be your man,” I told her. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m off the entire weekend.”

“Bradley Alexander—” She was ready to scold me for messing with her.

“Scout’s honor.” I held my fingers up in the Eagle Scout sign. We stared at each other. “There’s no way I’m leaving this house, especially when you look this good.” My hand dropped lower to squeeze her backside. She dropped her head trying to hide the blush in her cheeks as if I’d never seen it before.

“Go shower,” she said. My grip on her loosened so she could step away. “I’m not spending the evening huffing jet fuel.” She looked my attire up and down. I left in such a rush, I still had my flight suit on.

Extra swagger in her hips, she sauntered to the kitchen. For a split second, I considered following her and bending her over the nearest surface. But tonight called for something slower, softer than a counter quickie.

Instead, I went to our ensuite bathroom and let the water pressure ease my muscles. Soothed by the water and steam, I lost track of time. When I realized, I hopped out, did a quick shave and dressed.

We were home, but she was wearing that sinful sundress, so I at least wanted to wear something I knew she’d love. I put on my favorite pair of worn jeans, a white tank and an Aloha shirt I knew was one of her favorites.

I padded downstairs, noticing the lights were low and she’d lit candles. A smile turned my lips when I heard Led Zeppelin IV spinning on the record player—I thought about the countless times we made out to this soundtrack.

When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks. She was sitting on our small breakfast table, palm supporting her, head tilted back, wine glass to her lips. One leg ran the radius of the table while the other hung off at the knee. Her heel popping to the beat of the music.

She turned to look at me. “Wine?” She held out her glass. I shook my head as a coy smile pulled a corner of my mouth. She winked as she polished off the last sip in her glass.

As I approached the table, she shifted so she was facing me and placed the glass at her side. Stepping between her legs, I pushed the glass further back. A hand on either side of her, I leaned so we were at eye level.

Her hand cupped the side of my jaw, and her thumb ran along my lips. Mindlessly, I pressed a kiss to it. The tiniest smile curled the corners of her mouth as she searched my face. I hummed as her fingers traversed the raised skin of my scars and came to rest on the dip of my chest just below my clavicles. “Do you have any idea how handsome you are?” she asked.

Surely she felt my chest rumble as I chuckled. “Only when you tell me.” My voice was raspier than usual. Leaning further into her, I dropped my head to place soft kisses on her neck.

“Surely other women tell you.” I knew exactly what she was doing.

“I can assure you, they keep their thoughts to themselves,” I replied. Between kisses I told her about my latest class catching sight of her on base. It was the last time we had lunch together before our drought. A couple of them commented about a hot civilian. Turning, I found her chatting with Maverick.

I told them the easiest way to not return from a mission was ogling another pilot’s spouse. One of the women who had been doing her damnedest to flirt with me blurted, “That’s your wife?!” I nodded at her with a wink. She paled and never looked me in the eye again.

The earned laugh that quickly morphed into a moan had me considering unzipping my pants and unceremoniously fucking her. But I had to pace myself. She was flat against the table, my body covering her with my forearms holding me up as I kissed whatever exposed skin was available. The raggedness of her breathing kept me going.

“Do you know how hard it is for me not to wake you up every night at some ungodly hour?” I told her, picking my head up to see her response.

Her bottom lip was between her teeth as her eyes twinkled in the low light. “Why wouldn’t you wake me up?” she asked. Her thighs were squeezing my hips, the skirt of her dress covering almost nothing.

“First, you sleep through absolutely everything.” She chuckled as my hands skimmed her bare thighs. “We could be having a magnitude 10 earthquake, and you’d sleep through it.” She nodded in agreement as one of my hands slid between us.

I froze. “Where are your underwear?” She never went commando without a purpose.

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Maybe I was hoping you would be home, in bed, when I returned. And I could wake you up.” She paused. “If you came home.” Her gaze was intense.

My smile faltered and my head dropped with my shoulders in a moment of guilt. Quickly, I looked back up at her. “I’m sorry.” Still gripping her thigh, my thumb drew circles on it.

“Show me,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I had expected her to scold me or for us to get into a deep conversation about the past month.

She moved my hand from her thigh to between her legs. “Actions speak louder than words.” Expertly, she maneuvered my hand to guide two fingers into her. “Show me how sorry you are. How much you’ve missed me.”

For a minute, I froze. Tired of waiting for me, she wrapped her hand around my wrist to slide my fingers in and out of her. Finally, I got a hold of myself, my thumb pressing to her swollen bundle of nerves and the pads of my fingers stimulating that spongy spot inside. Her breath caught as I took over.

“That’s it, honey.” She melted against the table. “Let’s take it nice and slow.” She clenched around my fingers—I thought I might come right then. “Fuck,” I said under my breath. She smiled as she watched me squeeze my eyes shut.

Back on her elbows, her fingers snuck into my hair and pulled me until our lips connected. My lips parted just enough to allow her tongue in. It toyed with mine, matching the rhythm of my fingers pumping in and out of her. Her lips left mine with a smack. “Bradley,” she moaned as I alternated between scissoring my fingers and curling them against her G spot.

“That’s it,” I cooed, keeping the same pace and pattern. I could feel her tightening around my fingers. “Fuck,” I breathed out, enjoying the feel of her. My lips fell to her neck, knowing the additional contact would send her over the edge.

The stutter breath she let out matched her contractions around my fingers. “That’s it, honey.” I watched her face as she went through her high, my fingers keeping pace. As she untensed, I slowed to a stop. She looked at me as she steadied her breathing and a smile appeared. She continued to watch as I cleaned her from my fingers. Immediately, she pulled me down to taste herself.

She hummed as we separated. “Go pick another album. I wanted to make out with you on the couch.” My cock jumped from just the words leaving her mouth. Standing to my full height, I helped her off the table.

She shooed me with her hands to the living room where my inherited record player was housed. I thumbed the sleeves until I found the perfect selection: The Velvet Underground’s Loaded.

As soon as the needle fell into the groove, she appeared with the bottle of wine. We both traipsed to the couch. She split the wine as I settled into the sofa. I accepted a glass and then beckoned her to sink into my side. Together, we sipped and listened to the opening song.

As the next began to play, she placed our empty glasses on the coffee table and straddled my lap. My hands came to rest on the tops of her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress higher to expose more skin. She shimmied even closer to me, so she was at even more of a height advantage—my head was tipped almost completely back.

Her fingers sifted through my locks, her nails massaging my scalp. A deep breath I didn’t even realize I was holding escaped my parted lips. She smiled as she watched me relax. My eyes were practically in the back of my head, her massage turning my mind to mush.

She tugged my hair, which earned a moan and caused me to shift under her. She ground against me, the stiff seams of my jeans caressing her most sensitive spot. I let her roll my head to the side so she had better access to pepper kisses along my neck. She continued to grind against my denim-clad crotch. Boy, did I wish there were less fabric between us.

My fingers dug into her thighs as she sank her teeth into my neck. “Christ,” I said under my breath. She sat back and eyed me, proud of the reaction she got. Her thumb passed over the spot that would surely be purple later. “Maybe your students will have fewer questions come Monday.” Before I could say anything, she leaned in and sweetly pressed her lips to mine.

“You’re such a sour patch kid,” I teased. She smiled at the nickname while she nipped my lips and swirled her tongue against mine. At the same time, her hands were busy unfastening my jeans. She climbed off my lap, and I lifted my hips to help her rid me of my garments.

Climbing back into my lap, her knees bracketed my hips and the tops of her feet contoured the curve of my thighs. Her core rested against my length. I wanted nothing more than to guide myself into her.

“It’s really unfair you look this good in such a silly print.” Her fingers followed the shoulder seams of my shirt to the collar. Using the points, she pulled me back in for a kiss. As we separated, her hands dipped under my collar and over my shoulders to help shed the cloth.

Once that was off, she took advantage of a tiny hole I hadn't noticed in my tank. Penetrating it with her finger, she pulled and the fabric easily gave way. I watched as the hole grew and she fisted the fabric to snap it at the hems. She untangled me from the ruined garment and dropped it to the floor.

My arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer and hands palming her backside through her dress. Her hips lifted, and with one hand, she guided me into her. Slowly, she returned to her resting position. A sigh left my mouth as I felt her adjusting to me.

“Honey,” I trailed off as she squeezed me a couple times. We kept eye contact as she began to slowly lift and lower herself. The pace quickened just a bit as she fell into rhythm with the music.

As she kept going, my hands slipped under her dress and began to pull it up until it was over her head. Once it was off, my mouth immediately found one of her nipples. The moan that left her lips was euphoric.

It made me bite her harder. She let out something between a moan and cry as her nails sank into my shoulders. I hissed, enjoying the burn as she scored my skin.

She was frustrated, and I wanted every bit of that energy.

Not wanting to miss any of it, I coiled an arm back around her waist and easily flipped us so she was laying on the couch parallel with the cushions.

Her doe eyes stared up at me, filled with surprise. My quirked lip grew to a smirk, as I anchored a hand on the cushion beside her head and the other on the couch back. My hips began to rock, setting a new pace for us. The lust came back to her gaze as her soft thighs met my hips and her heels found purchase in the dimples of my ass.

I held it together as her nails gently ran from the top of my cock to just under my pecs and back. Her touch was soft but firm enough not to tickle. I flexed a little extra.

Watching her breasts bounce with each thrust was enamoring. Her breathy gasps each time I bottomed out were the only noise I was hearing. My eyes sank as she stopped touching me and started touching herself.

My pace stayed the same, but my gaze was trapped where we connected. I slid in and out while her digits swirled along her swollen nerves. My hips stuttered from the added pleasure as her index and forefingers made a V around the base of cock. “Fuck me,” I whined.

She smiled. “No, you’re fucking me,” she corrected. We laughed together.

“I missed this so, so much,” I confessed. Wanting to be closer to her, I sank to my elbows. I tucked my palm behind her head, letting my fingers sift through her hair. Her eyes were hooded as she looked at me through her lashes.

We locked gazes as she took a deep breath and moved her hands to my waist, her nails sinking into the flesh just above my hips. At the same time, I felt her entire lower half contract, thighs hugging me and core convulsing.

“Bradley.” My name was long and drawn out as it left her lips. It was enough to make me spill into her. I breathed her name into the crook of her neck as I curled my arm under her head, my elbow became her head rest, to hug her whole body as close as possible. Her hand ran up my side and hooked around my shoulder.

I followed her name with a pleasurable hiss as her teeth sank into the meat of my shoulder. She punctuated the action with a tender kiss. The first of several she trailed into the crook of my neck as we rode out our orgasms.

Just as we came down from our high, the record ended. “Perfect timing.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling out and heading to the record player. She whined, but turned to enjoy the view as I walked away. Patiently, she waited as I flipped the vinyl and put it back on the player. I lined up the needle perfectly, and immediately the opening notes seeped out of the speakers.

By the time I was headed back to the couch, she was standing beside it. “Should we change the dress code in the house to birthday suits only?” I pressed my body to hers, enjoying the full frontal contact and handful of her ass I grabbed. She squeaked and arched her back. My lips covered hers to distract from her attempt to escape. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled into her lips.

We parted just far enough to look one another in the eyes. Her expression was playful. “Apology accepted.” I squeezed her around her ribcage and stuck my face in the crook of her neck. Although we were stark naked, our hug was earnest.

As we separated, she held my biceps, keeping us close. “Let’s go upstairs so you can keep doing what you’re doing to me all night long.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Together, we blew out all the candles, and then walked upstairs hand-in-hand.

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#love is in the air tgm #bradshaw baddie™#for the bradshaw baddies™#roosterforme #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooter bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #Spotify

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rogueddie · 7 months

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Soulmates Steddie Recs

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🧵

And Death Stands So Small In The Face Of Love

writersagainstwritersblock

Soulmate AU where soulmarks don't turn until the person actually loves you, rather than upon meeting. Unturned marks are just ink until the person who loves you touches them and turns them into bright, colorful tattoos. Or a character study on Steve, the people he loves, and the people who love him.

Words : 14,514 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Find the words and talk to me

daytimedreamer

In a world where a tattoo-like mark appears on your left wrist when your soulmate is relatively close to you, Eddie Munson doesn't have one.

But he's fine with it. Completely fine. Who needs a soulmate... Right?

He has his whole life figured out already and the lack of a soulmate hasn't affected his plans at all.

That is until a mark does appear and Eddie discovers he can't run from fate.

Words : 72,470 Chapters : 11/11 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

color me in danger

SolariaLunar21

The first time Eddie remembers a major change in the color of his meter he’s 11 years old. For most of his life the bar on his wrist has sat firmly in the green sometimes on very rare occasions darkening to a green blue color. That is until that day when he’s 11 and he watches it change to yellow for the first time.

Words : 4,755 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Your skin and bones turn into something beautiful (You know I love you so)

ChristinMKay

Steve Harrington is born with a scream on his lips and so much love in his being that his body is covered in it. An abundance of moles, freckles, and birthmarks are speckled across his skin, painting him in constellations and stardust and affection.

The nurses and doctors are congratulating Steve’s parents as they place him in the arms of his mother. They say he is blessed. Lived so many lives filled with people who loved him so much that the press of their lips against his skin had to echo through time and leave a mark.

Words : 4,209 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

so we must meet apart

leah_btw

He sometimes imagines how it would feel to be in Munson's orbit. Sometimes imagines where his words would be. Hopes they'd curl along Munson's cheek bone where Steve could brush his thumb so easily. Or in the junction between his neck and shoulder, a place where Steve could drop kisses. Or along the curve of his hip, where Steve's palm could settle.

None of it matters because Steve never says anything.

Words : 15,437 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Heart on Your Sleeve

Anonymous

Steve Harrington doesn’t know how to love right. He knows he loves his parents, but their soul marks have turned to scars on his skin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. With some help, he figures out it's not his fault.

Inspired by a kink meme prompt where your soul mark appears when you realise you love someone.

Words : 22,816 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Error Option Romance

thankyouplease

Eddie imagines that Steve Harrington probably thinks that he is real hot shit. On top of being a rich prom king, he is also an eroptomancer. A love seer. A soulseer, some people call them – someone able to see the weird magic that connects people in a predestined shit storm of a craps game. He probably thinks he’s real goddamn special. One in a million special.

It’s actually closer to one in five million, but who’s counting?

Words : 61,348 Chapters : 6/6 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Platonic with a capital "P"

fucktacles

Robin Buckley was betrayed by the universe twice in her short teenage life. Once when she was born a lesbian in a homophobic little town. Again, when it shoved Steve Harrington into her life. Worst of all, he was starting to grow on her. She might even be, gods forbid, fond of him.

Words : 8,429 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

as you bleed your deepest feelings here

hitlikehammers

“My first fucking tattoo, hell,” Eddie sniffles and sneers and neither sentiment really lands, it’s more just…devastating. “Thought about covering it up, soon as anyone would let me into a parlor. Tried to stick-and-poke it, so I couldn’t tell what it was anymore but I couldn’t even get past a single little dot, like a full inch away,” he presses Steve’s hand closer, the skin so smooth and so fucking warm; “made my,” Eddie’s voice cracks then, and sounds almost like it bleeds around the last wet whimpers that fall forth:

“Made my heart hurt.”

Fuck, but it makes Steve’s heart hurt, too.

“But it was a whole new hurt when there was you, you understand?” Steve freezes, scared for half a second until Eddie reaches for his chin and lifts his gaze, stares utter devotion and maybe a little disbelief straight into Steve’s veins just with a look that full, then Eddie licks his lips and there’s a hint of a smile that dares to breach the cloud cover.

“You made my heart kinda,” and oh, yeah, a smile: “sing.”

Words : 3,096 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fic rec #ficrec

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chishiyasleftnut · 4 months

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Nothing but short, short skirts

Hi everyone! (✧ω✧) This one was inspired by a scene from The Wolf of Wall Street which I recently rewatched.

Disclaimer: This is not an example of a healthy relationship. You should not use sex as neither a punishment or reward as it can lead to an unhealthy relationship with both your partner and sex. Be adults, talk it out.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warning: Smut. Pairing: Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: Chishiya made fem!reader upset during an argument, causing her to withhold sex until he apologises. Of course, that’s easier said than done, so fem!reader decides to seduce him.

1646 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You were mad at Chishiya. Honestly, you couldn’t remember why and the ‘why’ didn’t matter to you anymore. All you knew was that you deserved an apology - which showed to be incredibly difficult to get from him. He was stubborn, but so were you.

As a way to get him to apologise, you decided to withhold sex. Was this a terrible idea? Yep. But it was too late. You had already started this war and you were not about to back down, even if that meant spending every waking moment craving his touch.

Instead of backing down, you decided to coax an apology out of him. The easiest way? Making him just as desperate for you as you were for him. So, from that moment on you decided to wear the skimpiest outfit found in your closet until he gave in. Mini skirt? Check. See-through, white shirt? Check. No underwear? Definitely check.

Your plan commenced and you walked into the living room, elegantly placing yourself on the same couch as Chishiya but avoiding looking at him. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Chishiya taking a surprised double look at you before turning his gaze back at the TV. Even though he acted unaffected, you noticed the way he shifted in his seat and licked his lip. Clear signs of arousal. Success! You got him. Now you just had to play the waiting game.

However, to your dismay, nothing but occasionally glances happened. You had to up your antics. As if there were no intentions behind your movement, you changed your position, so you were lying down with your legs facing Chishiya. Your knees were bent and just far enough apart that he could see your lack of underwear.

Chishiya noticed immediately, his eyes lingering on the sight before him for a few too many seconds for it to appear natural. His hands were clenched tightly into fists, the veins on them popping up underneath his skin. He shifted again, this time to move the growing hardness that was now feeling rather cramped in his jeans to a more comfortable position. Still, he didn’t do anything more. He made no attempt to approach you, to convince you to stop this stupid sex boycott. That would require an apology, and he was not about to give in even if it was very, very tempting.

Annoyed by his lack of response, you got up from the couch and marched to the kitchen. If you weren’t getting laid, you at least wanted a snack. Something to take your mind off of the emptiness in your core. God, you wanted him…

You shook your head to clear your thoughts and instead grabbed a plate and some bread to make a sandwich. Just as you began arranging the toppings on the white bread, Chishiya walked into the kitchen. Of course, you were mad at him. Double mad. You were both mad that he wasn’t falling in your trap and mad that he wouldn’t apologise. So instead of looking at him, you kept your eyes on the sandwich you were constructing. Chishiya stepped up behind you, getting close enough that you could feel his incredibly hard length pressing against your lower back. His hands lifted your skirt up to expose your rear to him. He grabbed it, squeezing the ample flesh hard. He loved your ass. So much. This whole ordeal truly was terrible for both of you.

“Don’t do this to me.” he growled into your ear; his face buried deep in the crook of your neck. The air from his deep, shaky breaths brushed over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. That, combined with his hands firmly placed on your ass, made you want to give in. But you couldn’t. You had to win this or you would never hear the end of it.

“Apologise.” You said. It was a simple demand.

Chishiya paused. His hands loosened their grip on your body as he fought his urges.

“I have nothing to apologise for.” he stated.

Fuck. You had hoped for another response. The yearning was almost painful at this point, your body was so desperate for his touch. However, you stayed strong and instead pulled your skirt back down to cover your ass.

“Okay,” you said as if you weren’t going insane. “You can speak to me when you’re ready to apologise.”

Just as you were about to leave with your sandwich, Chishiya grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, so you were face to face.

“You’re killing me here, you know that right?” he said with a small smile on his lips. Although your actions were tormenting him, he could also see the amusing aspect of them. He had to admit, it was a creative plan. Chishiya took the plate out of your hands and put it back on the kitchen counter before lifting you up and placing you next to your sandwich. Standing in between your legs and leaned forward so his mouth was right next to your ear, he finally said the words you had been waiting for.

“I’m sorry.”

You both knew he didn’t mean it, but honestly you didn’t care. You couldn’t even remember what you were mad about, so it wasn’t as if the apology was actually important to you. You simply didn’t want to quit the sex boycott out of sheer stubbornness.

“Thank you.” you said while smiling. Chishiya felt your cheeks lift and responded by smiling too. You felt his warm hands move under your skirt again.

“May I?” he asked, his voice deep with desire. You nodded and hummed, wanting nothing more than that right now. He wasted no time and immediately lifted up your skirt, causing your now bare ass to get contact with the cold granite countertop. Chishiya looked down your body, admiring the way your needy opening was already dripping with desire. A singular strong finger moved down between your folds, sliding up and down to tease your entrance.

“Mmm... Chishiya don’t do this to me,” you whined with closed eyes. Chishiya’s cheeks raised even more against yours, letting you know his smug smirk was back on his face.

“This hasn’t been easy for you either, has it?” He asked, sounding very satisfied that he had this amount of effect on you.

“It’s been terrible.”

“You’re a very stubborn woman,” he said with an amused tone. “You could just have given in, you know?”

“I couldn’t let you win. You would never let me hear the end of it.”

Chishiya snorted. You were right, of course, and he knew that. Over the past few years, you had come to know each other very well. You knew how to make each other happy, mad, or - as right now - deeply desperate for one another.

Chishiya’s finger finally entered you, followed shortly by another one as he slowly began pumping them in and out of you just as you liked it. You were already a moaning mess, your sounds being somewhat muffled by his shoulder that you were resting your head on.

Before you knew it - and all too soon - you were once more left empty as Chishiya retracted his fingers to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants and boxers just enough to free his length. He wasted no time, sinking himself deeply into you. Your walls welcomed him by squeezing tightly around him, making him go wild. He grabbed your hips hard to stabilise you and began fiercely driving himself into you as the two of you indulged in your animalistic urges.

Not satisfied by your muffled sounds, Chishiya grabbed your jaw and forced you away from his shoulder You got eye contact, only furthering the electricity in the air. Your mouths connected for a short, but rather aggressive kiss, before he pulled away again.

“Let me hear you,” he growled.

You obliged, your moans and whimpers now harmonising with his. The only other sound in the kitchen was that of skin slapping hard against skin, as Chishiya continued to ferociously thrust into you, giving your body no break. Because of that, it didn’t take long before you felt the well-known feeling of a coil tightening in your abdomen. Chishiya felt it too in the way that your walls were now crushing down around his dick tightly.

Neither of you lasted long. With a final thrust you came undone around Chishiya. The pulsating of your core made him finish seconds later, causing his hips to stutter as he came into you. Your moans slowly died down, leaving the room quiet except for the sound of your combined heavy breathing. Once he recovered, Chishiya brushed some hair out of your face and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled, leaving you confused.

“Why are you saying you’re sorry again?”

Chishiya smirked and pulled away just enough so he could look you in the eyes.

“What you’ve taught me is that ‘sorry’ is the secret password to sleep with you.”

“Oh shut up,” you said before laughing. “Is that your takeaway from this?”

Chishiya snickered before kissing your forehead again.

“More or less.”

He helped you down from the kitchen counter before handing you your sandwich. Reunited with your snack - and of course after finally getting the release you had been craving - you looked satisfied as you walked back to the living room. Chishiya followed you shortly, throwing himself down in the couch next to you before putting his arm around you.

The both of you had long forgotten the argument that had caused this entire situation. Everything was back to normal - at least until the next fight. But right now, you didn’t want to think about that. Instead, you wanted to enjoy the feeling of peace and love that once more filled up the apartment.

#aib chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya smut #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya #aib #alice in borderland #chishiya x you #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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minkdelovely · 14 days

Text

ptolemaea

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“i am no good nor evil, simply i am. and i have come to take what is mine.”

Nun!Alastor x Demon!Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!lucifer x bottom!alastor, alcohol consumption, accidental luci praise fic?, blasphemous debauchery, desecration of catholic imagery, smut (vague i know but if the previous tags haven’t scared you… 😂) also not a brag but i think i accidentally put my whole pussy into this idk what happened but here we are 🥂**didn’t implement tag list to avoid shocking y’all to death**

word count: 5.1k

author’s note: *natalie portman voice* i never said i was a role model. this companion piece (<- first part linked here) is dedicated to darling @hazelfoureyes who gave me courage to let my freak flag fly — please accept this as my humble offer of gratitude; it’s been an honor to workshop this idea with you 😭 totally get it if this crosses a line for some (please skip, i promise it’s okay lol) but i couldn’t be more excited to publish this. for anyone willing to join us on the yellow brick road to hell you are welcome to link arms 🙏🏻❤️‍🔥 theme inspo from ethel cain 🏚️ i also made a playlist for the party if you wanna check it out ✨

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Samhain was always a peculiar time for Lucifer.

Though he could come and go as he pleased between realms — with the exception of Heaven, of course — the thinning of the veil was the only time of year he could feel Earth from Hell. The energy of realms converging wallowed in the air heady as incense, enticing his powers to rest just under his skin.

Or at least that’s how it felt. A not-unpleasant humming tension, aching to be released. It put him on edge, stirring him like a poker to hot coals as he fought to maintain his suave facade against the urge to succumb to the deeper power he normally held back with ease. It had never gone over well whenever Lucifer gave into the temptation…

Except for the year he accidentally created a mound of rubber ducks. What a charming fascination that had turned out to be.

Normally he would make plans to visit with one of the other Sins or confine himself to his workshop to keep busy (use your imagination), but this year Charlie was hosting a party at the hotel. A costume party. He had no intention of dressing up (the fear that no one took him seriously enough as-is not completely unfounded), but he did find the practice endearing. Little mortals disguising themselves to hide from ghouls and demons.

But he was Lucifer Morningstar, after all. Sinners and the like dressed up after him, not the other way around.

Exasperation pricked the king’s skin as Alastor suddenly came to mind, maintaining a perpetual state of unwelcome in Lucifer’s consciousness. He probably wouldn’t be dressing up either, the smug son-of-a-bitch. Every day is Halloween for that haunted sideshow, he thought bitterly with a laugh to himself, the sound echoing off the walls his only companion within the confines of the office — aside from the ever-present mass of ducks, of course.

The dilemma was still there when the laughter died though. Risk letting Charlie down by not dressing up and lumping himself in with Alastor by extension? Or don a costume and give the snarky demon and anyone else with a mocking eye the false impression of superiority? Lucifer groaned, running both hands through his bouffant platinum hair as he slumped forward at his desk.

How had it come to this, needing to choose between love for his daughter or himself? Consumed by the current problem, he failed to recognize that this was an issue typically at hand, even when he lacked venom behind it. He was making good progress when it came to Charlie, but as they say, old habits die hard. There had to be a compromise somewhere…

A minute passed.

Head between his knees, his eyes shot open with the thrill of inspiration and he sprang from his chair, decision made. The familiar handsome smile graced his lips as he sauntered to his bedroom where an untouched suit awaited him in the armoire. He wasn’t the sin of Pride for nothing.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Intersecting somewhere between Halloween and New Year's Eve, the newly-added ballroom of the hotel was decorated to the gills, not a single inch of it lacking in festive flair. Angel Dust scoffed when a DJ had been suggested and happily provided a playlist for the party, which was either really smart or really crazy. Or both. Only time would tell, but so far there had been no complaints.

Sinners were piling in, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the establishment. The cacophony of conversation, laughter, and music filled the space with a liveliness Charlie hoped would be a more permanent fixture at the hotel. She and Vaggie had taken charge of greeting everyone at the entrance of the ballroom, receiving some surprisingly sincere compliments on their Glinda and Elphaba costumes. Any derogatory laughter or smirks were being pointedly ignored, both women knowing full well that they looked incredible.

When Charlie spotted her father approaching in the crowd, her smile faltered briefly. “Dad! I thought I told you this was a costume party,” she said tentatively, looking back to give Vaggie a silent plead to keep up with the greetings before focusing her full attention on Lucifer.

“Oh, honey, you look fantastic! Pink really suits you,” he deflected, eyes and voice sparkling as he held Charlie’s arms out to admire the glittering gown, looking every bit the princess she was.

She drew back, not unkindly, when he released her and wrapped her arms around her ribs self-consciously. Groaning, “Dad…”

It was quite impressive how she could admonish him with a single word without even meaning to. Must've gotten it from her mother, he thought absently, though Lilith wouldn’t know passive aggression if it slapped her on the ass.

Thinking on his estranged wife, it was a true miracle how Charlie had blossomed into the compassionate and brave young woman standing before him. Lilith, never afraid to lead the charge; himself, too trepidatious to take the risk. Yet somehow their daughter seemed to embody the best of them both, reflecting parts of himself that he didn’t know where there.

He could have wept on the spot, suddenly fit to burst with affection for her — no doubt another side effect of the day — but the angel quickly refocused when he saw Charlie’s nervous expression toward him and leapt into damage control.

“Whaddya mean, I am dressed up!” he managed to answer with his usual charm. With one hand he pointed at his extended horns, a flicker of flame glowing between them adorned with his delicate serpent crown. The other hand swooped in front of his red suit with a flourish. “You’re telling me this doesn’t pass as a credible devil costume? You know, I actually held back. Thought maybe it’d be too scary for your guests if I went all out.”

If keeping his flame low and eyes neutral counted as holding back, and not just the ones in his skull. People got squeamish around him whenever the amass of eyes on his wings appeared. He didn’t blame them.

Lucifer was rambling now, a nervous laugh the cherry on top of his need to save face. Though somewhat of a loophole, he had found the idea to be rather clever. Then again, he was trapped in an echo chamber of his own thoughts so most ideas naturally fell into that category. Was it really such a letdown? He could’ve bailed altogether, nerves already desperate for solitude, but he wanted to try for her. Even if it felt like two steps forward and one step back when it came to Charlie, he’d keep aiming to get it right for as long as she’d allow.

“I actually think you look great,” Vaggie said smoothly, swooping in next to Charlie at the first break in the crowd. Lucifer would owe her for the rest of existence for the save. A debt he was more than happy to repay in whichever way pleased her best, making a mental note to discuss it later with the fellow angel. “It’s a lot better than what Alastor decided to show up in, anyhow.” The grimace on her face and in her tone was unmistakable.

Alastor had fucked up.

It took all of Lucifer’s willpower to keep his magic in check at the delight that shot through him. The PR mess regarding what would equate to mass murder, regrettably, didn’t ping his radar. But the thought of needing to rebuild the ballroom was just taxing enough to keep the impulse at bay.

He was about to ask what Vaggie meant when Charlie stepped in, playing devil’s advocate as usual (no pun intended). What his precious, well-meaning daughter saw in that undeserving creep, he’d never understand.

“He’s just getting into the spirit! You have to admit, it’s nice to see him mingling for once, he’s usually so—”

“Grotesque?” Lucifer offered.

“Conniving?” Vaggie added.

“Reclusive!” Charlie practically screamed, earning looks from a few demons within earshot. “Look, I won’t say that what he picked out isn’t… surprising, but I’m just really happy to see him join in on the fun. He’s been enjoying himself so far, so I want you guys on best behavior, all right?”

She said you guys but made solid eye contact with her father. Despite wanting to protest, Lucifer understood he was already off to a shaky start and conceded with a sigh, covered quickly with a debonair grin. Charlie didn’t know what a particularly big ask it was to be on best behavior tonight, but that was his burden to bear.

“Of course, sweetie, you have nothing to worry about! There are so many sinners here I doubt we’ll even run into each other.”

Famous last words.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Lucifer tried to enjoy himself, he really did.

In the brief moments before his eyes found Alastor in the crowd, it had actually been a wonderful time. He was immediately awash in the admiration of his subjects, even managing to make some poor creature faint with a simple grin in their direction — though he had really laid on the charm with that one. Could he be blamed though? After ten millennia of habit, calling it compulsive would be an understatement.

Moments like this were a reminder of why it was good to get out of his office every now and then. Whether it was compliments on his look, praise for the fight with Adam, or outright solicitation for sex, Lucifer drank it all in; beaming as the crowd awed at the sight of fully extended wings he could no longer keep to himself. He really was the shit, wasn’t he? Being worshipped is truly unlike anything else, but it’s something to experience, not explain. All he knew was that he adored it.

It had been a devastatingly short-lived escape, the proverbial looming gray cloud — never too far away — returning as Lucifer’s gaze fell on Alastor. He had been scanning for the bar and stumbled on an atrocity instead. Just his luck.

The costume was a shocking choice to be sure, one that Lucifer might have even appreciated had it been on literally anyone else. But something about it on Alastor was simply… perverse. Leaving him with the struggle of trying to decide if it was the costume that was the issue or its inhabitant.

Was it the way the habit — embellished with red stitches on each side and the Cross of Saint Peter in the center — framed Alastor’s face, ears and horns still exposed with just a tuft of bang peaking out across his forehead? The pure white wimple that glowed like a beacon against the stark black surrounding it, casting an unusual grace upon the slender neck and broad shoulders underneath? Or how the tunic flattered the swell of his chest, the taper of his thin waist accentuated by the fabric swirling about his hips that flowed down over long, lean legs?

The demon, draped languidly over the bar, was chatting with Husker; the look on their faces was the most relaxed and natural Lucifer had ever seen exchanged between the pair, borderline flirtatious. Whatever the bartender said made Alastor toss his head back with a laugh, the exuberant sound of it piercing the angel’s chest like an arrow. How he had even managed to hear it so clearly over the music and the crowd was a miracle, or perhaps curse was more accurate. Still, the easygoing look on Alastor’s face as he came down from the laugh was bewitching, accented by a boozy flush and mischievous, heavy red eyes.

Insufferable.

The Radio Demon was in top form tonight, confidence radiating from him with such a forceful ease that the king could feel it even from his place across the room. He hadn’t noticed the literal sparks flying out of the pads of his fingers until he brought his hands up to tug at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt too tight. Fuck.

Taking it all in, Lucifer could feel the heat rising reluctantly in his face as he was consumed by a baffling mixture of lust and loathing.

All because Alastor decided to be a blasphemous piece of shit, he seethed, scowling as he narrowed his eyes at the sinner in question. Eerie, arrogant, pompous, constant pain-in-the-ass Alastor, riling him up like this? Lucifer had considered it number one on his list of impossibilities, caught completely off-guard by the rush of desire — if he had to put a word on it — for the ghoulish prick. An impulse he had never entertained nor wanted to feel in regard to the demon, but was there all the same.

“Samhain,” Lucifer cursed under his breath. The flame between his horns intensified, eyes prickling with the threat to change color. He took a breath, remembering Charlie.

Best behavior.

It was about as helpful as a bandaid over a bullet wound. This had to be a joke; a cruel, tasteless joke meant to provoke him specifically. Like he hadn’t suffered enough of those already in his long, long existence.

That was the only conclusion the angel could come to from his table near the bar, practically burning alive in his chair as he watched Alastor strutting around the ballroom in between breaks from the dance floor. Lucifer really had almost set himself on fire after catching Alastor in the middle of a sultry dance move with one of the guests, a rolling of hips he didn’t think Alastor was even capable of doing, let alone inflict upon someone. It took a double shot to mellow out when he found himself wondering what it would be like to switch places with that guest, though it did little to quell the growing ache coiling low in his abdomen.

There was a lull in the music and the crowd disbursed, quickly filling the empty space around the angel. Lucifer exhaled, somewhere between a groan and a laugh. Alastor had finally managed to dip out of his line of sight — not that the demon was forcing Lucifer to look — and the reprieve couldn’t have come at a better time; the solace of his absence coming over the angel like poultice to a throbbing wound. Despite being a couple drinks in now, the tension in his body was a ticking bomb. He needed the opportunity to try and decompress before he accidentally wrought havoc upon the denizens invited here by his daughter.

For at least the tenth time he entertained the idea of going back up to his room, if only to release some of the punishing energy pulsating through him, but he wasn’t confident that he’d return. The only thing holding him back was the promise he made to Charlie to be present and well behaved. And so, he remained committed to the confinement of the table he’d been bonded to for the last hour.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

In hoping to keep as much distance as possible Lucifer had unwittingly tipped Alastor off, landing the problem he was hoping to evade right in his lap. So to speak.

He always forgot that the demon could travel through shadow until it was too late. It’s just that he didn’t care to remember, not wanting to give Alastor even the tiniest bit of permanent space in his mind. Something he was actually too oblivious to realize he was already doing; they both were.

Alastor had of course noticed when Lucifer entered the room. Whether he wanted to was another thing entirely. Though it was to be expected, what with the dregs of Hell no doubt encountering royalty for the first time. Thankfully he had been at the bar with Husker, his captive bartender providing a welcome distraction with a joke about how his drink was going to cost a few Hail Marys. There were reasons Alastor kept him around, after all, beyond the obvious. Surly as he was, Husk had the capacity to be quite funny when the mood struck. He wasn’t on the clock tonight, but he was the only one Alastor trusted to pour his drinks.

He could feel the glare beating down on him from that moment on, focused on him wherever he went. So he laid it on, making rounds and fluffing up the guests who were all too eager to devour his attention. It had been especially fun seeing the quick shock of flame in the corner after he showed off a risqué dance move, all for his majesty’s entertainment of course. If the spotlight was going to be forced on him, why not perform? But after an hour the joke was growing stale, and so the demon came to the conclusion that he’d have to be the one to bridge the gap.

Lucifer jumped at the shock of Alastor’s melodic voice coming from behind him, transmuting the glass in his hand into a duck without meaning to with a pop; amber-colored liquor swirling around within the confines of its new shape. Lucifer couldn’t decide what pissed him off more, the jump scare or the magic trick. The not-so-secret third option being Alastor’s proximity to himself, the heat from their bodies mingling in the small space between them.

“Fuck! You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve sneaking up on me like that. I’m liable to make it a killing offense,” Lucifer sneered, tossing a napkin over his new little creation before anyone else could notice it. “And I haven’t been admiring you. I’m just, uh, keeping an eye on things! Besides, a king shouldn’t mingle with the general population. Might give off the wrong impression.”

Sealed with crossed arms and a smug, toothy grin, it would’ve made for a decent enough comeback had it not been for the slip up.

A dear old friend to Alastor, the slip up.

The expression on his face sharpened with a malicious instinctual ease as an idea unfurled in his mind. Lucifer was so obviously perturbed by him, the attempt he made at concealing it was almost endearing in a pathetic way. Though he was always in a pathetic way to Alastor, dark gums revealed in his ominous smile as his scheme took shape. He leaned in low, lips nearly grazing the angel’s skin as he spoke; his ear twitched at the catch of Lucifer’s breath from the action. He was so fucking obvious.

How humiliating.

“Is that so? Well, if you’re merely killing time here, might I suggest a bit of… sport?”

Lucifer flinched, pulling his face away to glare up at him. He couldn’t be insinuating what the angel thought he was, could he? It would be a bold — deadly — move even under normal circumstances. And tonight was anything but normal.

Something was clearly in the air for Alastor too, if the fraternizing Lucifer had witnessed for the past hour was any indication (not realizing he had been the cause). He was known to have a flirtatiousness about him when he drank, but there was a different edge to it this evening. Lucifer was beginning to wonder if the costume was fueling his narcissism. Obscene.

“Well, your majesty?” Alastor goaded, radio filter frazzling as he leered down. To Lucifer’s chagrin, bedroom eyes looked good on him, the rotten bitch. “If not, I’m more than happy to leave you to your sulking.”

That was a lie and they both knew it, the tension so charged between them the air might combust at any second. Given the king’s proneness to accidents tonight (and the literal open flame above his head) it wasn’t an impossibility.

As they locked eyes, some silent declaration was sent, though neither had received the same message. Or perhaps they did and therein was the problem, dooming them to be forever caught in this stubborn battle of wills.

Lucifer tried — and failed — to ignore the portion of himself that, apparently, had been eager for the opportunity. He could give in… if only to set some boundaries on who was always the winner in this pissing contest. The smoky trace of whiskey lingering on Alastor’s breath caused Lucifer’s nails to dig into the flesh of his palm, golden pinpricks of blood rising in the wake.

A proposition now effectively ratified.

The Body and the Blood…

How sentimental.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Haaahh…! Mmmnn — ahh!”

“Fuck…”

It started off as a joke like so many things do when you’re scared shitless of vulnerability.

An insult here, a dare to chase it. Contemptuous eyes poorly concealing the desire simmering underneath. An angry meeting of mouths, all tongue and teeth and claws. The clattering of miscellaneous items being recklessly swiped off a table.

Glass shattering.

More insults.

A bite to the lip drawing blood, tangled breath filling in the needy gaps awaiting any touch they could get. The first shared moan ringing in ears before scorching its way down, stoking the molten ache roiling in the gut, desperate to envelop them both and leave nothing but frayed nerves behind.

Caressing, pulling, gripping, grinding, biting…

The party supply room was hot, air humid with sweaty musk and the steam of heaving breaths, the sounds of the party resonating on the other side of the wall. Inside were hisses through clenched teeth, groans of ecstasy; slick skin coming together then pulling away with the magnitude of storm-heavy waves crashing and receding on the shore.

The tunic covering Alastor’s torso did little to comfort him, stripped as he felt. In fact, the habit was still on too, the only piece of clothing torn from him being the wimple in order to free the expanse of his neck. Lucifer had spent quite a bit of time there, marking it well with harsh love bites and languid strokes of his forked tongue.

He was laid out beneath the angel, open mouthed and florid, vaguely coherent as his king fucked him senseless; seemingly determined to conquer the demon as wholly as possible. A task at which he was succeeding, if he hadn’t done so already; though to be fair he had never stood a chance against Lucifer. Not tonight.

Alastor hadn’t spoken a proper word in minutes, reduced to communicating through moans, groans, and sharp intakes of breath. Quite the accomplishment considering he was such an articulate fellow.

Lucifer didn’t know it yet, but he would be haunted by the memory of seeing Alastor’s eyes roll to the back of his head once he found the pace he was currently keeping; deep and steady, just fast enough to stay ahead of the desperation that was never too far behind.

So tight…

The demon almost looked sweet, splayed out below him like this, lost in the throes of pleasure. It was a nice change considering the sneer that normally painted his face. But seeing him like this, brows knit and face flushed, the tuft of bang soaked into his forehead…

In this moment, Lucifer truly felt like a God.

He certainly looked like he could be, his demon form fully unleashed. He always felt such relief in this state. It was exhausting holding himself back, and not just today. Something he did all the time, not out of concern or ease for others, but because he had difficulty grappling with his station. Not that he’d give it up — hell no. But the burden of leadership was exactly that. Lilith had known it too, all too happy to take the reins until she wasn’t. He’d been happy to let her… until he wasn’t.

Maybe it was the melding properties of Samhain surging through him, but he could swear he felt a shifting. What good did it do for him to hide himself away? There was actually plenty of proof to the contrary. Why should he hold himself back? He was Lucifer Morningstar. Hell was his domain, and all its inhabitants needed a reminder that he was to be revered.

The Radio Demon could be their martyr.

Why else had he offered himself up like one? And the image suited him well.

“I showed the Nazareth all the kingdoms of the world before they crucified him. What do you see, Alastor?” Lucifer growled, voice thick and smug with authority. He leaned down to nip and lick at the skin of Alastor’s open jaw, still whipping his hips at a relentless pace.

Even with eyes closed — too much effort, they were so heavy to keep open — Alastor could see him perfectly, the image of Lucifer seared into his mind. Eyes. Glowing red eyes to match the flame roaring between his fully formed horns and the apple that topped his serpent crown like a sparkling ruby. Leering, all-seeing eyes on seraphim’s wings.

A fanged grin so self-satisfied it was like looking directly into the sun.

A God.

It burned him to admit it.

But the wanton moan that tore through Alastor’s chest pierced the room, coming on so quickly he never stood a chance at restraining it. The words spilling from Lucifer’s mouth in deep rumbles threatened to unravel the meager hold Alastor had left on his dignity. Absent claws bit into the flesh of the demon’s thighs as the angel momentarily hitched from the way Alastor clenched around him, hot and greedy as if needing to milk him for all he was worth.

The king let out a husky laugh in response, latching onto a particularly enticing patch of Alastor’s neck where it met the shoulder; reveling again in the salty musk that coated his tongue before biting down, filling his mouth with the satisfying taste of iron.

Alastor opened his mouth in a soundless plead, his mouth and throat dry from exertion. Impossible as it seemed, tears pricked at the corner of his eyes; his painfully hard and untouched dick throbbed, weeping against his stomach and into the fabric of the tunic. It was too much… He was too full, too surrounded, too helpless.

Consuming.

Yes, that’s what it felt like.

He had never been on the opposite side of it before.

And despite it all, he could feel his orgasm pooling low in his belly, balls painfully full and tight. That gnawing tension yearning for relief as Lucifer’s thick arousal punished his spongy core. Once the angel pulled away from his neck, Alastor couldn’t help but reach down to touch himself, so in need of climax he didn’t care what it took to get it.

Lucifer roared at the sight, cock twitching as his own release threatened to spill, but managed to hold it back. Delicious as this was to witness, he couldn’t let Alastor get to the finish line just yet; his pointed tail coming around to snatch the demon’s hand away as he pulled out, exhaling with a strained grunt.

The sudden absence of both sensations left Alastor to writhe in frustrated ache, practically sobbing through gritted teeth at the loss, which Lucifer mercifully tried to soothe with languid kisses and nips to the demon’s inner thigh. He wasn’t a completely unfeeling Lord, after all.

He just needed one last thing before letting them both attain the high they so desperately wanted, his eyes shifting back from radiant flame to red and yellow with a blink as he wrapped his hand around Alastor’s angry, dripping length. It wouldn’t be long now, the poor creature was so hard and wet to the touch.

Alastor cried out, regaining some semblance of himself as he unconsciously bucked into Lucifer’s unmoving hand; his mouth made a sticky sound as he swallowed hard, moisture finally returning to his parched throat.

“Luci…fer… please — I can’t…!” Alastor practically tore the words out between heaving breaths, tears burning his skin as the shame of needing to beg deepened his rosy blush to an intense red.

He hadn’t expected the demon to beat him to the punch, unable to fight the grin of victory painting his lips as his eyes resumed their fearsome glow. Benevolently rewarding Alastor with a few firm strokes, he relished the lewd, wet sound of it joining the chorus of his subject’s carnal whimpers. Lucifer bent down and flattened his tongue, giving a slow wide lick to Alastor’s leaking cock from base to head, finishing with an obscene slurp. How could he possibly have denied himself such a precious offering?

A pleased hum rumbled in Lucifer’s chest when Alastor slung an arm over his face, gossamer strings of spit between his lips as he shuddered, “Oh god… fuck…”

That would work.

Lucifer buried himself back into Alastor’s enticing heat, continuing his ministrations as his hips set a slow pace. A mewling groan spilled from the demon’s mouth, hips rolling to meet each of the angel’s thrusts. Lucifer’s peak was quickly approaching, too lost in the divine feeling of Alastor’s body surrounding him, already lamenting the thought of being finished.

“You poor thing… Did I fuck all the attitude out of you?” the angel taunted, golden blood dripping down the side of his mouth from the force of his smile.

No longer capable of holding it back, the orgasm crashed through Alastor with the force of an avalanche, heart threatening to burst through his chest; the sound of its rapid pounding nearly drowning out his own scream of rapture. He spasmed so tightly that the king had to still himself, the grip on him almost painful. Hot, thick cum shot onto the demon’s stomach and Lucifer’s hand in gratifying spurts as he stroked him through his high, desperate for every drop he could wring out.

Inspired by the mess in front of him, the angel pulled out and brought one of Alastor’s hands to him, guiding him until he felt life twitch back into the demon’s fingers. The grasp was a little too harsh, Alastor perhaps using this as a chance for revenge if the look in his eye was any indication, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could take this conquest from him. It wasn’t long before Lucifer was rutting into the demon’s hand, groaning through clenched teeth as his face twisted up before spilling himself into Alastor’s palm.

Lucifer gave himself a moment to revel in the bliss of their debauchery before cleaning them up with a snap of his fingers. He was too worn out to put more effort into it than that, and hey, got the job done, didn’t it?

They were still trying to catch their breath when they finally locked eyes, the post-coital sobriety already at work. Alastor’s ears flattened as he glared at the angel, a rare grimace on his lips.

“No one knows about this. Understood?” he threatened, the static crackling in the air around him.

“Ha! Who do you think you’re talking to? Now I know I fucked you stupid.”

Their fistfight didn’t last long, but provided a great cover for their absence when they stumbled back to the bar in desperate need of a strong drink.

So much for best behavior…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“How did you do it by the way, the last temptation of Christ?” Alastor couldn’t believe he was asking, the bitterness clear in his voice, but he figured it might be his only chance to find out without seeming too curious.

It took Lucifer a second to process the question, an easy smile spreading across his face. “Oh what, showing Jesus the world? I just whipped out a map*.”

Insufferable.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: don’t worry, alastor was prepped before getting railed lol it just happened off screen 🫠

*biblically accurate if you can believe

#radioapple #radioapple smut #nun alastor #demon lucifer #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #nun alastor smut #alastor x lucifer #alastor x lucifer smut #hazbin hotel fan fiction #radioapple fan fiction #hazbin hotel smut

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drthighs · 1 year

Text

"is it?" d.r

wedding!daniel ricciardo x reader

attending to a wedding alone was not on your plan, but the guy in dark green tuxedo made it all more fun

wordcount: 2.4k

warnings: kinda cheating trope

A/N: this fic is based on the movie "the worst person in the world", it took me so long to finish it and im still not satisfied with the result but i wanted you guys to read it! also it is inspired by @mignonricciardo, @vroomvroommbtch, @silverstonesainz and @monzamash amazing writings. i hope you enjoy it <3 english is not my first language.

weddings were one of your favorite plans, celebrating other people's love while dancing, eating and having some drinks was always fun. you enjoyed everything, looking for dresses, getting your makeup done and all it took. but this time was different and it wasn't as exciting as other times. your boyfriend was on a family trip so would have to attend alone to a place where you didn't know anyone but the bride and the groom. they were good friends of yours, jack was your coworker and after a year you had bonded so well with him and his fiancé, you went on double dates and had a blast every time it was the four of you, but a couple of months ago your relationship with your boyfriend started to collapse, leading to fights almost everyday for any reason so when he told you that he wasn't coming to the wedding you felt some relief, you wouldn't have to be pretending the whole ceremony, but it was a whole new experience, out of your comfort zone.

the ceremony was beautiful and you arrived just in time so the other guests wouldn't see that you were alone and it was a good idea because you didn't have to talk to anyone, stayed quiet and didn't miss any detail. the bridal veil, the rings, the vows and the kiss, it looked like a perfect movie scene with the sunset behind them and all their families and friends.

the party was another story, the part when everybody started to socialize was about to start so before facing all that you went straight to the bar and asked for a martini, knowing that it’ll give you the confidence that you were lacking to confront the night.

you were looking for a gloss in your purse when you heard “sorry to bother but do you know where the bathroom is?” looked up and saw a guy in front of you, trying his best to go unnoticed but it was kind of a hard mission since he was the only one wearing a cap, a lilac hoodie, black sweatpants and vans plus a backpack on his right shoulder and a hanger covered with a bag on his left hand.

“i think it is that way” you said while pointing to your right and drank the coctel. he thanked you and walked to the signed direction.

The hall was beautiful, it was very nicely decorated with fairy lights on the ceiling and the tables decorated with a flower vase with garden roses, lisianthus and eucalyptus and the number three on top indicating the number of the table, the tableware tidy and some lighted candles.

after finishing your drink you went to your table. there were four people sitting and chatting when you stepped forward, greeted and sat two chairs away from them, wanting to be far away from the conversation and avoiding any type of questions. in matter of time another two couples seated on the left chairs leaving an empty one beside you, at first you thought that they must forgot that your boyfriend wasn’t coming but when you were looking for someone to tell them about the error but suddenly the guy from before was taking a seat next to you, now dressed in a dark green tuxedo, his curls wet and the same pair of black vans that he was wearing before, you smiled at that, a couple of minutes ago you had thought that he was part of the staff but now he was sitting in the same table as you, looking so different.

he cleared his throat and lean closer to you “i hope not everyone notices that i'm wearing vans on a elegant dress code wedding”

you smiled at him. now under more lights you could see how handsome he was, his eyes were big and brown, but not dark and had long eyelashes, dimples on his cheeks, a couple of days beard and mustache. but his nose was what made his face so unique and attractive. His hair was also a great factor, shorter at the sides and long brown curls on top. you were kind of amazed by him.

“i think that gives the touch to your outfit” said quietly so the others couldn't hear. he laughed and was about to say something else when the music started making you look at the entrance.

after the bride and the groom danced the vals, the first course came in and while eating the man next to you poured you some wine and started to talk with him. Now being more relaxed about being alone you opened up to him a little. “wait, you weren't supposed to be here alone tonight?” he asked, you shook your head and swallowed the food, he raised his eyebrows and swallowed the liquid in his mouth “and why is there only you here?” “my boyfriend is away on a family trip so i had no choice other than come alone and make friends here” he smiled and you sipped from your glass “well, if it makes you feel better i'm kind of in a similar situation” he pricked the food with his fork “because of my job i travel a lot so it was a coincidence that i was here for a little of time and the plane tickets were sold out so my girlfriend couldn't come”.

later that night you found yourself so fonded at the man beside you, he wasn't only good looking but he was so funny, anything that you'd say he would find a way to turn it into something unexpected and funny.

don't really know how you ended up taking a masterclass of wine with him while everyone else was dancing, but by now you had learned that he had released a couple of wines and was a good taster, so you followed all the steps he explained to you, the right way to open a bottle, how to serve it, how to drink it, what to taste and his favorite part how to swirl the glass. “how do i look?” you said as you moved your glass on the table “good, you're fast learner” he said now taking a sip of his own “well thanks, but i think i like the part when we drink it more” he raised the glass in a way of agreeing with you.

the tension between you started growing. for you it was the way that his adams apple kept moving as he explained things to you and how his lips would turn into a smile showing perfect teeth and his dimples on his cheeks. maybe the alcohol was having an effect on you. and you could say it was mutual, because you didn't miss how he had checked you out and he smiled proud of his jokes every time you laughed

after the wine glasses and talks he was now your best friend. now seated in bar stools , looking for new cocktails to try and playing a new game he had teached you.

throwing assumptions and judging the people by their movements and looks

“i think she works in a pet shop store” you said serious “no she doesn't” he said frowning , “of course she does, look at her hair, she's has those tiny ponytails that they do on sharpays” and he laughed so hard that some people around you turned to you making you giggle.

“its your turn now” you said looking at him, the still stranger was looking for a new prey. now while he was concentrated you took a look at him, with the color lights from the dance floor reflecting on his face and his hands scratching his beard concentrated watching how the guests danced at the djs music, he looked beautiful, and now you knew that it was the alcohol effect mixed with you falling out of love with your boyfriend.

while looking at him you reached your hand to grab the cup but unintentionally dropped it making a mess on the high table, your legs were covered in sticky vodka, tonic water and red berries. the cold made you gasp and he turned fast to look at you and helped you by grabbing some tissues and putting them in your thighs, looking down at the liquid running thru your legs you couldn't help but stop wiping the table and look at his hands on your skin, his hands were big and his fingers long, had a little 3 on his little finger, and was wearing a horse shoe ring on his index. the feeling of his touch on your inner thighs and the amount of alcohol that you had drank made you laugh, he raised his head and looked at you confused with a smile on his lips “i think i should go to the bathroom”, “yeah sure, i'll go with you i have to wash my hands” he said not before grabbing the beer bottle and walking behind you.

the bathroom was occupied so you were in a narrow hallway waiting for your turn to go in. standing before him and close to his body, face to face.

the music was low making everything more intimate and you wanted to check if he was actually on the same page as you, “nothing’s going to happen” he shook his head “no, of course not”. “i’m in love with someone” you said, looking into his eyes. “me too” he agreed and continued “and i cant stand cheating. i’ve been there. never again” you nodded “right. cheating is…” “no good” he followed.

less than a meter between you and you asked “but where do you draw the line?” he smiled and shook his head before answering seriously “you can feel it”. “if i do this…” you got closer to him and took the bottle from his hands taking a sip in front of him while he looked straight into you “is that cheating?” you returned it to his hands and he held it “no” he said now drumming the glass of the bottle with his fingers, you stood there “what about this?” he got closer, making you lean on the wall behind you still looking into his eyes with your hands on your back. your faces inches away, you held your look into his eyes “no, that's permissible” you said smiling “is it?” he asked now as he raised his right hand to caress your bare shoulder. you weren't expecting it so you stood straight and he parted.

you were playing with fire now.

you were still looking at his eyes when the door opened and a girl walked out of the bathroom. you make a few steps when you hear him behind you “is it cheating if i go inside with you” you laughed and held the door open for him to come inside, he left the bottle of beer on the counter and turned to look at you as you pulled down your panties and sat on the wc “there's nothing sexual about this” he said still looking at you, “not at all, is just a little awkward” you said now taking your hands to your face and trying to contain the laugh. he doesn't even try and suddenly your laughs are bouncing off the walls.

you were both now on the dance floor, dancing to some old hits. he had great moves, not the best ones that you've seen but not the worst ones either.

you raised your arms to the ceiling while singing when you felt his hands on your waist, getting you closer to him “is this still cheating?” he said closer to your ear so you could hear. “i dont think so” you rounded his neck with your arms “is this?” you whispered and he shook his head making you smile and swing with him and you stayed there with your head laying on his shoulder.

the bride had dragged you to the dance floor, gathering all the ladies for the bouquet toss and while everyone else was on the first row, fighting for the best place to catch the flowers you stood on the back looking at the man in green in a green tuxedo, you were shrugging your shoulders miming at him “i'm not ready for this” when the bouquet fall right in front of your heels and the bride went straight into your arms hugging you so hard. He started clapping and you could only hear his laugh louder than the music

“congratulations, you're the next to walk down the aisle” the man said walking by your side in the backyard under the moonlight. “im sure im going to be the last one between everyone else” he put his hands on his pockets, you hugged your arms because of the cold weather and took a seat on the wooden bench leaving the flowers on your lap “you never know” you smiled and looked at the white flowers when he took the bouquet and started to cut some tiny flowers and putting them on your hair, you turned to him, now sitting in front of each other closely, you cut one and put it on top of his right ear. “the purple matches your eyes” you caressed his soft curls and he put one of his hands on your thighs while looking at you. “i think you're so cute with this crown made of flowers” he led his hand to your cheek and got closer to you, making you feel the warm breath at the corner of your lips but the sudden noise of some drunk guys made you part, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

after saying goodbye to jack and his now wife you were both walking on the street side by side in silence, but it wasn't awkward it felt natural to you. once on the street corner he said “i'm going this way” pointing to his right and stopping his steps “okay” you said in front of him, but not moving anywhere, not wanting to leave him “what's your name?” he bit his tongue “y/n” you left out and he nodded “im daniel. daniel…” “dont say it” you shook your head “why not?” he said confused “ill find you in social media and…” “good thinking” he kept his eyes on you “okay” he smiled “bye” you said. “bye” he replied, turning around and taking a few steps but then stopped and looked at you again. “we didn't cheat” he said loudly “no” you were walking to the left“not at all” he was crossing the street “no” shook his head “bye” you said before walking slowly to your car, leaving daniel behind.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #dr3 #formula 1 imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo fic

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jinxhallows · 11 months

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Chris, werewolf or vampire au, you asking him to bite you for the first time while intimate. Anything else goes! 💜

I know you didn't ask for all dis but I felt inspired so thanks :) I picked vampire since most folx do wolfchris.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ sʟᴇᴇᴘs [ ʙᴀɴɢᴄʜᴀɴ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴀᴜ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ] ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: 𝟷𝟾+ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴄʜʀɪs, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ɢᴏʀᴇ, ʀᴏʙʙᴇʀʏ, ᴇʀᴏᴛɪᴄ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟺.𝟷ᴋ

In that blurred state between awake and asleep, an unsettling jolt shakes you into consciousness, as if you were dangling on the edge of a cliff. Startled, you awaken on the couch, yawning and taking in the surrounding darkness. The paused Netflix series, interrupted by the persistent question, "Are you still watching?" lingers on the screen.

To be honest, you had long lost interest in the show, drifting away to find solace in the soothing embrace of slumber. Your weary mind, burdened by the irrevocable sorrow of losing your closest friend, sought refuge in the realm of dreams. As you glance around the dimly illuminated living room, you remind yourself to tidy up the scattered clothes strewn across the floor. Empty water bottles have accumulated like forgotten relics on any available surface, accompanied by a disheveled pile of unwashed dishes, a task that feels insurmountable in your current state of apathy.

It’s been exactly twenty four days, ten hours, and six minutes since you saw Chan die right in front of your eyes. Time becomes your tether, an illusion of control amidst the chaos that now engulfs you. In the prime of his youth, brimming with aspirations, Chan was snatched away too soon. The bond you forged in college carried you through the vibrant years of your twenties, but now, as you approach the threshold of thirty, he is painfully absent, no longer there to mock your aging despite being a mere year your junior.

Chan would give you endless advice about issues that now seemed to be so petty and irrelevant, and when texts weren’t enough at 12am, he would phone you to try to get you to relax and go to bed, promising to destroy you in a good ol’ game of mario kart the next day if you’d get some rest. He was wrong, you always dominated in mario kart, but the competitive shit talking would effectively distract you, which was the whole point. You’d hang up the phone feeling lighter somehow, as if he snatched the problems right from your shoulders and cast them into the skies.

In the realm of forbidden love, Chan possessed all the qualities that could make him the perfect boyfriend. But destiny had other plans, tying him to a five-year relationship while you were bound in a three-year commitment of your own. When your unfaithful partner betrayed you once more, Chan became your guiding light, reminding you of your worth just weeks before his tragic end. As friendship kindled into something more, an intense love grew within you, surpassing mere friendship. Respectful of his relationship, you kept your feelings in check, even though you didn't truly care for Chan's girlfriend. She transformed from a cheerleader to an OnlyFans personality, lacking the depth you believed Chan deserved. But who were you to decide his path? Despite their arguments, he found fragments of happiness with her... at least, when their love wasn't overshadowed by bitter fights every other week.

Tears welled up, spilling over your waterline, as thoughts of him consumed your mind once more. Desperate to escape the crushing weight of guilt that enveloped you, you sought distractions, attempting to forget that you blame yourself for his untimely departure. His family held you responsible too, believing that if only you hadn't taken those shortcuts through dimly lit alleys after your bowling night, the mugging would never have occurred. It was in that moment, face-to-face with a hooded figure, demanding your wallet, that Chan's selflessness emerged. Without hesitation, he confronted the assailant, triggering a violent response. The stranger swiftly plunged a blade into Chan's abdomen, tearing upward through his fragile organs before vanishing into the night.

As his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, blood staining his shirt and spreading with alarming speed, you were rendered utterly helpless, reduced to screams of despair. With trembling hands, you pressed against the wound, begging, pleading for him to stay, to hold on, your desperate pleas piercing the air as you cried out for help. A cook on a smoke break nearby heard your anguished cries and dialed for an ambulance. He handed you a grimy towel, urging you to apply more pressure, even as Chan slipped away, inch by agonizing inch.

"I... I think I'm... dying," he choked, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth, impeding his speech.

"No! You can't be dying! Don't you dare leave me, Chan! Don't you dare leave me like this!" you screamed, your voice strained and desperate.

He gasped, his lungs drowning in a sea of crimson. "I'm... sorry..."

Those were his last words before his body turned limp, the light extinguished from his eyes. You trembled uncontrollably, your body racked with violent sobs, cradling his lifeless form in your lap, willing him to awaken. It had to be a terrible nightmare, a cruel figment of your imagination. It couldn't be real...

Tears streaming down your face, you snatch a nearby mug and hurl it with all your might, watching it shatter against the wall. The sobs come pouring out, a torrent of frustration at the unfairness of life. How could it take away your best friend? You would have given the mugger everything you had, knowing that material possessions could be replaced, but not the irreplaceable bond you shared with Chan.

Without bothering to wipe your tear-stained cheeks, you rise unsteadily and stumble into the bathroom, flicking on the humming light above. The room comes alive, illuminating your trembling figure. In your hand, you clutch a bottle of newly prescribed psychiatric medication, its lid beckoning you to open it and plunge into a sea of pills. It's not the first, second, or even third time that you've contemplated consuming the entire bottle, escaping from this world altogether.

But then, as if echoing from the depths of your soul, you hear Chan's voice, a gentle reminder that pierces through the darkness.

‘Don’t be stupid, that won’t fix anything’

Taking a deep breath, you swallow the prescribed dose meant to help you weather the toughest storms. You tilt your head under the faucet, quenching your thirst as the water washes down the medication. With a swift motion, you turn off the tap and wipe your mouth with the side of your arm. Glancing briefly at your reflection in the mirror, you observe your disheveled appearance—a ponytail barely holding your hair in place, the emergence of weary bags under your eyes, a sight you've never witnessed before. The image worsens the pain within, reminding you of the toll this grief has taken. With a heavy heart, you exit the bathroom, your hand dragging along the light switch, plunging the room into darkness before retreating to the solace of your bedroom.

The bed lies in disarray, a nest of tangled sheets and blankets inviting you to seek solace within its embrace. Collapsing onto it, face first, you release a heavy sigh, shutting your eyes tightly, desperately wishing for a touch of magic to undo everything that has unfolded. Doubts persist, refusing to release their grip, leaving you questioning whether this reality is nothing more than a haunting nightmare or a cruel trance from which you are yet to awaken.

A tap at the window brushes against your senses, but you dismiss it as yet another figment of your restless imagination. The pills are beginning to take effect, gently lulling you into a peaceful slumber amidst the chaos of your bed. Another tap, insistent and persistent, echoes against the glass pane. Your mind races, reminding you that your apartment is situated on the fourth floor, rendering it impossible for anyone to be knocking on your window. Fear grips your heart, the notion of an intruder scaling your fire escape sending shivers down your spine. Instinctively, you lunge for your phone, intent on dialing emergency services.

"Don't do that!"

Time freezes as the unexpected voice reverberates through the room. Your finger hovers above the final digit of 9-1-1, your eyes darting up to the window. Darkness surrounds you, but the moon's radiant glow and the streetlights outside offer a faint illumination, revealing the silhouette standing before you, but the math still isn’t mathing for you yet.

“You’re not crazy, I promise.”

You feel yourself growing nauseated. What type of sick psychosis is this? Was someone playing a trick on you?

“Let me in.”

Surely that voice sounds just like Chan, hell, the silhouette is lit enough for you to see the outline of his face, but your brain still can’t make sense of it.

“Y/N let me in and I can explain, but it still won’t make any fucking sense. I didn’t have anywhere else to go just…please.”

His plea resonates deep within your being, compelling you to rush towards the window, swiftly unlatching it and pushing it open. Disbelief washes over you as you behold the figure before you. It's Chan, undoubtedly, from head to toe, but he's adorned in a suit that exudes an unmatched elegance, surpassing anything he ever wore in his human form.

"I must be going insane," you mutter, the words escaping your lips at last.

"No, you're not," he replies, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. Casting a glance around, he heaves a sigh. "Can I come in?"

Furrowing your brows, you find yourself utterly perplexed. “W-What the fuck is going on?”

"I can't enter unless you give me permission," he explains, his voice tinged with urgency. "And I can't explain it all out here. Just... tell me I can come in."

Your mouth opens, then closes. With guarded uncertainty, you finally utter the words that will forever alter the course of this enigmatic encounter. "You can come in."

"Finally," he murmurs, effortlessly climbing through your window. You watch in wide-eyed astonishment as he surveys your room. "Did a tornado sweep through here or something?"

Silence hangs heavy in the air as you remain rooted in place, your mouth slightly ajar. Chan settles on your bed, patting the space beside him. "Sorry, probably not the best timing for jokes right now."

"Are you some kind of ghost?" you stammer, desperately seeking an explanation for the inexplicable.

"You're incredibly stubborn, you know that?" he retorts, patting the bed insistently. "Just sit."

Reluctantly, you take a seat beside him, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He reaches out and clasps your hand in his own. It's chillingly cold, like grasping an ice pack pulled from the freezer. Startled, you snatch your hand back, inching away from him. “What the fuck is going on?”

"I'm still trying to figure that out," he admits, tilting his head slightly and hooking his index finger under his lower lip, revealing a lengthened fang that stands out amidst his otherwise perfect teeth.

"You've got to be kidding me, Chan," you exclaim, struggling to believe your eyes. "Are you... Are you a..." The word hangs on the tip of your tongue, too unbelievable to utter.

"A vampire?" he finishes your sentence, his voice tinged with a strange mix of resignation and disbelief. "I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't woken up in the crematorium, lying on an examination table."

He looks down at his hands, as if seeing them for the first time. “The mortician came in once he heard me freaking out. He was so calm, it was scary. He handed me these clothes, and told me I had a second chance.”

As you listen to his words, the medication begins to take effect, both soothing and disorienting you. Part of you believes that this must be a dream, a hallucination that will fade away upon waking. "Vampires... they're real?" you mumble, the words feeling unreal on your tongue.

"The mortician, the one who took care of me after... after that night, he turned me," Chan explains. "He told me there are others like us, vampires, including the lead cardiovascular surgeon at Greatview Hospital and many more scattered across the country."

You freeze, your eyes scanning his figure intently. "No," you utter, rising to your feet. "No, this can't be true." You repeat the words, trying to convince yourself that you're experiencing a psychotic episode, a figment of your traumatized mind. "I saw you die in my arms."

"I remember," Chan replies gently, his voice now softer and more reassuring. Your guard momentarily falters, accustomed to finding solace in his voice. “Look, I haven’t shown myself to anyone. Not my parents, friends, anybody. I didn’t know where to go, so I came here.”

“I still can’t believe this. I took my meds and I’m hallucinating.”

Chan raises an eyebrow at the mention of medication. “Meds? Since when are you on medication? For what?”

You stretch out your hands in front of you, gesturing dramatically towards the undead being standing before you. "I watched you die!"

"Can you please stop reminding me?" Chan pleads, sighing and rising from the bed. You instinctively take a step back, then another, and another. “I get it, this is really fucking weird, but I’m trying to figure it out too, and you’re the only one I can trust to help me sort through this. Please,” He walks towards you and you take another step back, and another, and another. Chan’s eyes were pleading, and even as a human, you had never seen him so desperate. It was pulling at you in ways you couldn’t understand. “Help me?”

Your back meets the wall, and you find yourself mere inches away from him, lost in his familiar comforting gaze. Perhaps it's the medication surging through your system or the undeniable connection you share, but your fear begins to dissipate, replaced by an inexplicable pull towards him.

"Okay," you whisper, surrendering to the magnetism drawing you closer.

In that instant, he closes the remaining distance, pressing his body against yours, and his lips meet yours in a kiss that defies all expectations. This is nothing like the countless times you've imagined your first kiss with Chan. Despite the unnatural circumstances surrounding him, he is here, in your room, kissing you with lips colder than anything you've ever experienced. Chan was cold like ski vacations that turn into arctic nights with blinding blizzards. He was cold like making snow angels in the remotest sundries of Antarctica. And yet, against your heated warmth, it melded and melted you into a dizziness that made you wonder how someone could kiss you like this. His scent evokes the desperate burning of cedar by humans seeking warmth to survive. He doesn't breathe, his stillness reminiscent of being stranded in the untouched frozen tundra. His taste is like the hidden depths of an iceberg lurking beneath the surface of the sea. Surely humans weren’t capable of such otherworldly capture of the senses in these inexplicable ways.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs securely wrapping around his waist, as his hand finds support on the wall. With graceful precision, he lowers you down the wall, gently laying you on the floor, making you feel weightless like a delicate dove feather. His lips part slightly, revealing the tips of his sharp teeth just beneath his pale, plush upper lip. You're captivated by the deliberate way he undoes his watch, letting it fall with a thud on the carpet alongside his jacket. His focus on undressing himself is almost ritualistic, as he meticulously undoes each cuff of his sleeves. Was he always like this, or did the blood of his maker course through his veins, influencing his every move? The man above you existed twenty four days, twelve hours, and forty six minutes ago, yet he carries the essence of centuries within him.

“Have you drank blood yet?” you manage to breathe, your gaze fixed on his fingers skillfully unbuttoning his shirt. The question momentarily halts his actions, his eyes still locked on the task at hand. It's a brief pause, lasting only a second or two, before he resumes, his gaze now locked with yours.

“I haven’t bitten anyone.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“That’s what you meant, though, right?”

He looks down again, pulling his shirt from his slacks, the last button falling and revealing his sculpted shoulders as he works on his belt. Your heart races in your chest, the earlier ease dissipating. How did he know? You and Chan shared a deep connection, but it's as if he just read your thoughts without even glancing at your face. As your eyes follow his gaze to the golden, slender belt buckle, you can't help but notice the undeniable hardness that tents the front of his pants.

"The mortician who turned me... he said I'm not ready," Chan reveals, swiftly removing his belt in one fluid motion. Feeling the electricity in the air, you take charge and unbutton his pants, stealing the spotlight for yourself. "Your heartbeat fills my ears, it's so loud. I've been trying to ignore it this whole time, but it's like a pulsating drumbeat," he admits, his relief palpable as his hardness finds release, causing his head to tilt back. It's not just the longing he has harbored for being this close to you, although that's a significant part—it's the way you look at him, the way your pulse quickens, the hitch in your breath—it all makes him crave you, body and soul. He wants to devour you, if he's being completely honest. So he counts the seconds it takes to undo his cuffs, the buttons lining his shirt, hoping to distract himself from the thirst welling up in his mouth that he keeps swallowing.

"A drumbeat," you echo, your voice trembling. "But don't you love music?"

"I do," he replies.

"I thought you couldn't live without music."

"I can't."

"Then... we're okay, right?" you inquire, your hand running along the length of his hardened desire, the cool fabric of his briefs the only barrier between you and its icy touch. Your gaze never wavers from his, a silent plea for reassurance. You want to see the Chan who died protecting you; the Chan who would vanquish this version of himself, even if it meant embarking on a fool's mission.

"You won't hurt me, will you?"

He may not require breath for survival, but the sensation of your touch makes his breath audible, escaping in short, jagged gasps that his teeth can barely contain. You can see it, and you can hear it—the rhythm of his breath intertwined with the flex of his firm muscles, like woven iron beneath his pale, milky skin.

"I could never hurt you," Chan professes, his words laden with sincerity, yet tinged with a sense of unease. He wonders if he can truly bear the weight of that promise, given his newfound struggle with self-control. He captures your lips once more, as you navigate his briefs in a hurried frenzy, responding to his kiss with a fiery intensity. You strive to avoid his fangs, the smooth ivory points that pose a dangerous threat against your swollen lips. Your breath becomes heavy against his mouth as you feel him pressing against your entrance, teasing you with deliberate strokes, spreading slickness and igniting electric shocks throughout your body. Each tiny quiver you make when he brushes past your sensitive clit only serves to undermine his initial plan of taking things slow. Plan A was to resist giving in to desire, but that failed, so Plan B was to proceed with caution. And yet, you were compelling him to venture further down the alphabet until he had exhausted all his options.

Curiosity overtakes you, and you tentatively reach up to touch the tip of his fang, a tad too eagerly, causing your finger to prick. Your reflex pulls away, but before you can retreat an inch, he thrusts inside you and firmly clasps your wrist, bringing it to his lips. It startles you; you've never seen him move so swiftly, almost as if he had teleported. There's no escaping his cold vice grip, and fear grips your heart. You want to protest, to plead for your life, but the words elude you when he fills you completely, his strokes caressing your most sensitive spots again and again. He takes your finger into his mouth, his tongue lapping at the wound, cleansing the blood. In that moment, you sense a shared eroticism, amplifying his pleasure in a primal manner.

He must be on Plan D or E by now, but all semblance of order dissipates when you moan his name and rake your nails down his chest. "Please, bite me. Pretty please? God, I just... I need to feel you—"

Chan's body hovers over yours, his cheek pressing against yours. “Stop begging me like that–”

"Or what?" you challenge, your back arching, breasts pressing into him as your bodies move in sync and he ruts into you. The pace slows, intensifying the sensation, pushing you closer to the edge. It's like a row of slot machines aligning at the casino, anticipation building, and you're on the verge of breaking, so close, incredibly close.

“Shi–you’re such a fucking brat–” Chan huffs against your neck, taking in your scent. It was like blueberries grown in the sunshine were in a basket underneath your skin. He knew exactly where each vessel ran. He could tell the difference between the pace of your veins and the race of your arteries. Each stroke inside you sets his fangs throbbing with need, and soft, guttural groans escape him as he tightens his grip on your hair, propelling both of you towards the precipice.

"Chan..." You try to utter his name, attempting to warn him, to give him a heads up, but words fail you. You're reduced to incoherent babbling, your body spasming and your toes curling. Chan curses into your skin as his sharp teeth break the surface, sinking into your shoulder. He can't halt the inevitable rush of his bite, but he steers clear of major arteries. Regrettably, the bite is deeper than intended, its edges jagged. Once he withdraws his fangs, you feel the warm flow of your own blood cascading down your shoulder. The area quickly goes numb, sending tingling shivers coursing through your body, catching you off guard and propelling you into another climax. It's an unexpected surge of pleasure, enveloping you completely. You've witnessed stars in moments of intimacy before, but now your vision becomes veiled in ethereal auras, akin to cumulus clouds bringing tempestuous weather directly into your bedroom.

Chan's mind goes blank, his instincts taking over as he sensually licks your breast, tracing a path up your collarbone, and back to the healing wound where his hunger led to the mingling of his own blood with yours. Within seconds of savoring your life force, he’s filling you up, his dick buried inside of you as he pulls your hips harder and lets out a broken moan of release. The pleasure tears him away from his consuming desire to drink from you, his hips jerking as he empties himself inside you.

Finally able to catch your breath, you realize he was like oxygen, taking you to another world, albeit a temporary escape. But now, the metallic scent of blood brings you back to reality, a reminder of the way he ravaged your shoulder earlier. The carpet beneath you is damp and sticky, soaked with spilled blood. However, as you touch the area, there's no evidence of the incident on your skin.

"I think it's gone," Chan helps you sit up on the floor, examining the spot on your upper back. True enough, it's smooth, the dried stain of blood serving as the only reminder. "I don't know how, but it's gone."

You touch the area in disbelief. "Wow, it's like it never happened," you say, struggling to recall the intensity of the bite. Concerned for Chan, you ask him if he's okay, considering the overwhelming experience you both just shared.

Chan's expression turns uneasy, his attention abruptly drawn to the window. Confusion and worry cloud his features. "I think... I think I have to go," he stammers, hastily retrieving his clothes and dressing himself as if compelled by an unseen force. He buckles his pants, hurriedly pulls on his shirt, and stumbles toward the window, his actions urgent. You panic and follow after him.

“What’s happening?!”

"I... I don't know. I think I have to go. I just..." Chan collapses to the ground, clutching his ears, crying out in pain as images of the crematorium flash through his mind's eye. "I'll come back another time," he manages to say, raising the window, and in an instant, he's out and down the fire escape, disappearing into the whispers of the city winds.

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