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usedpidemo · 3 months

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Mistakes were made, but not you (Le sserafim Yunjin)

“Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!”

While Yunjin lashes out at you, grabbing at your shirt and using you as a proxy for the world and its ill-timed misfortunes, you can’t help but wonder if your presence would have changed the situation for the better.

Probably not. It’s one of those events that has to happen for character growth.

—————

Tonight is supposed to be a night of celebration—a commemoration to the achievements, accomplishments, and accolades of the past year. The numbers and statistics never lie. They love her work, they love her artistry. They love her for what she sells and what she represents. But truth be told, Huh Yunjin couldn’t care less about what they think.

Thunderous cheers and colorful lightsticks representing different fandoms brighten the arena as the five Le sserafim members climb up the stairs to claim their award. Minutes ago, they pulled off the performance of a lifetime—an eight minute masterclass that represents everything the group stands for. You could see the exhaustion in their faces; barely mustering the strength to smile and wave to the crowd shouting for them.

For the most part, the acceptance speech is nothing notable. Going through the motions, thanking the fans, the staff, the company, promising to do better in the future—it’s about as cookie cutter as it gets. As Yunjin tries her hardest to keep her tears from falling while she talks, the other four can only focus on her with varying weary looks. Chaewon looks especially worried; it’s her responsibility and burden to look after every single one of them.

From the audience’s viewpoint, it’s seen as a non-issue, but the five girls recognize deep down it’s anything but. The only noteworthy thing is how suddenly quick they are on their feet heading backstage. It’s funny how everyone chases fame: to be in the moment, the spotlight. It’s funnier, Yunjin thinks, that she’d rather be anywhere else.

Unfortunately for her and the other artists attending, they’d have to wait a little longer. There’s backstage interviews and other idol obligations to do before they are finally let go. It’s not even worth all that lost time—that one award they receive ends up being their lone win for the night.

—————

Yunjin storms into your hotel room without a word with a fierce expression on her face. She doesn’t have to say it; she’s thankful she doesn’t have to spend another minute in front of the cameras, another minute being an idol—at least for the night.

In a sea of anger and auburn, Yunjin walks past you without acknowledging you at least once. She hastily drops off her purse on the coffee table before charging straight to her room and slamming the door. It’s easy to chalk up her frustrations on the monotony of the awards season—the countless hours of practice specifically for one event, the hours spent in the makeup room, the hours of interviews and fanservice—but you know she never acts like this. Rain or shine, hell or high water, she’ll walk around with a pleasant smile on her face.

Tonight simply isn’t one of those nights. You saw the whole ordeal happen in real time, and you’re already regretting the decision not to be there. At times, watching her on screen was tough. You can tell she was visibly uncomfortable, more clingy to her members than usual, when it’s normally the other way around. Admittedly, you have to give her props for holding herself back from crying when she has every right to. It’s a cold winter night, but that’s not the reason she’s trembling and shaking. It should be a night of celebration; instead, her sullen expression resembles the aftermath of complete, utter humiliation and defeat.

And it may as well be. You look through your phone; you find the messages from friends and acquaintances telling you the exact same thing; it might as well be considered spam.

> Yo did you see what happened to Yunjin?

> Is Yunjin okay?!

> Yunjin fell! Fuck MNET!

> BRO YUNJIN FELL FROM THE STAGE WHAT THE FUUUUCK—

> Don’t tell her but I actually laughed when she slipped XD hope she alright tho!

Of course you know. It’s all caught on camera and in living color for the whole world to see. Even if it was cut from the YouTube edit, which is highly unlikely, it’s already out there on the internet spreading like wildfire. Numerous reposts with tens of thousands of likes, multiple articles immediately written after the incident—her name and her moment will remain immortalized in K-pop history for all the wrong reasons. It has the internet making jokes, it has the internet writing thinkpieces, it has the internet creating needless fanwars—it has the internet buzzing.

You want to throw your phone from where your room is located—all the way up on the 27th floor—and pray it lands directly on a hater’s head.

Sure enough, when you try to enter her room, it’s locked shut. The door won’t budge. All this awkward, quiet tension between you is terrifying, and sleeping her feelings off isn’t going to help anyone, not during these trying times. She needs comfort right now more than anything else.

You give the door a respectful knock, only to be met with silence. Trying again and again leads you nowhere. Calling her name does you zero favors. Each futile attempt cuts away at your heart, little by little. Yunjin would rather isolate herself from the world than open up to anyone with no exceptions. Obviously, you have nothing to do with what happened (that is on the production team more than anyone) but you bear the responsibility and burden of being Yunjin’s partner, always there for her during the good times and the bad.

Now is not the time to give up or sulk. She needs comfort and love more than anything. She needs a shoulder to cry on. She needs a special voice to reassure her that everything will be okay.

Rummaging through her purse, you find one of her countless hairpins. It’s the oldest trick in the book—one that she always used to get you with guaranteed success. Already bent and straightened, perfectly shaped for picking—it’s as if she wanted you to reach her. You remember the disaster that was teaching you how to pick locks; dozens destroyed, to the dismay of her apartment doors, but she knew you’d need it at some point, and tried to help you to the best of her ability.

The lock comes undone. It’s a miracle, but it’s short-lived. What welcomes you as you enter her bedroom turns your uncertainty into shock and utter disbelief.

It’s imagery you only see in nightmares. Her bedroom completely ravaged and in utter ruin. Pillows, clothes, and objects scattered throughout the room. Yunjin is curled up against the wall with a blanket draped over her, concealing everything but her eyes. Bloodshot red from spilling her heart out. Around her feet lay two opened half empty bottles of alcohol and a spilled over wine glass. It takes everything not to drop to your knees or yell out “fuck” from the depth of your lungs.

Instead, it only comes out as an airy whimper, with your throat choked up seeing the sorry state your girlfriend’s in.

Every little step you take may as well be tiptoed. Carefully treading into uncharted territory, who knows what you’ll end up meeting. The next words you pick will be the most important ones you’ll ever say. It isn’t as simple as telling her everything will be fine—that mistakes happen, life moves on, and this will be a memory she can laugh at a few years from now. She believes she’s ruined not only her career, but also her members, when anyone with common sense thinks otherwise.

With a deep breath and a gulp of your throat, you run through all the options. You pray you make the best choice.

“Jen Jen,” you mumble, crouching down in front of her, frowning. Try as you might, you can’t bring yourself to smile. You reach your hand out to peek through the curtain; she aggressively slaps down your palm. It’s as dire as you believe it looks. She sees the world crashing down before her.

Watching her cry and hide herself away plucks away at your heartstrings. You don’t want to see her looking this sorry, this deflated. If her members—the people she’s closest with—couldn’t get through her, then how much less can you? Even so, you have to keep trying. Not as a fan nor an acquaintance, but as her partner.

Again, you’ll have to pick your way through another lock. This time, her heart. And it’s more delicate than any physical door.

She’s drowning in her tears to realize the tug on her wrists. Little by little, you pull them apart. Yunjin’s bloodshot eyes glare right into yours, but she does nothing. Slowly, you curl your arms around hers, reaching around her back. For a moment, she appears vulnerable. Open. You press yourself close to her—

And then she hits you square in the face.

Yunjin assaults you with a relentless barrage of fists, with one jab directly clocking your lips. They’re not the playful ones you’re used to. The kind that’s usually thrown after a serious argument, and you’ve only experienced a handful of squabbles. She sends you staggering back to the floor, violently screeching and attacking you. “Fuck you! Leave me alone!” she yells, punching you repeatedly with no sense of direction, only rage. You try to lift a hand in self-defense, only to be sent knocking down, to the point where you just give up and allow her to rip through you.

Looking into her eyes, having turned from grim to cruel, she looks as if you were there. As if you were the stage director. As if you were the one who pressed the button on the control panel. Her punches, aimless as they are, fucking hurt. You’re on the floor, defenseless, but you deserve it. You weren’t there when you should have been. The one award show you opt not to attend happens to be the one that ends up sideways. Of course she’ll pinpoint the cause back to you. That’s blind passion. That’s love.

She grabs you by the collar of your shirt, screaming right in your face, “Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!” Angry as she is, you can tell she’s trying to restrain herself. She wants to humiliate you, but she also doesn’t want to smash your head through the marble floor. You have this ragged but innocent look on your face. The stubborn kind that would tell her that you won’t give up on her. That you’d happily take all the beating just to see her smile again.

As it turns out, all she really needs is an outlet to air out her emotions. She has moved past her tears, and she has stopped beating you down, but everything else still remains. The glare. The dour frown. The fingers gripped to your collar. The room is silent, with the only sound filling the air is your low, airy hush of “Sorry.” Your hand rubs against her arm, conveying a message of reassurance that everything’s going to be okay.

Yunjin freezes. Unsure of how she feels, unsure of what to do. The moment stretches beyond the perception of time. You end up getting caught unprepared by what happens.

She doesn’t apologize for throwing you to the floor and verbally and physically assaulting you. You don’t really mind. A kiss is more than enough of an apology. Even more when it’s passionate, humming into your mouth before letting her tongue slip right between your lips, and her hands now pressed to your cheek. Lovemaking is how she speaks to you. Her lips do most of the talking.

Her body does the rest.

Yunjin pushes you down to the floor. You watch her shed her leather jacket, in awe of her radiant beauty. Her skin is porcelain, gleaming from the bedroom light. She’s a star, and shines like one. The reverence soon turns to amusement, mostly at how nonchalant she’s behaving. Minutes ago, she was hostile, out of control, threatening to turn you into a ruined mess. Instead, she’s about to leave you a ruined heap, but in a different way.

She notices. She always does. Knows you like a book. She grins.

“You know I can’t be mad at you,” she says, lifting an eyebrow as she straddles on your lap. Smirking playfully, she’s making you double take and wonder if this was an elaborate ploy or if she was really upset. And if it’s the former, then you’d really feel betrayed and manipulated. “Sorry dear,” she adds, accompanied by a peck on your lips. “I know it’s not your fault nor mine, it’s just that we prepared so much and—”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt, placing a hand on her bare shoulder, “I should have been there. I mean, what are the chances the one time I’m not there, this shit—”

“Shhh.” Yunjin plants a finger on your lips. “Babe shouldn’t worry about his Jen Jen’s performance. At least I looked cool falling, right?” she asks, both sweet and playful.

“Sure you did,” you chuckle, almost sucking on her fingertip as she points it directly at your lip. “Definitely the coolest fall I’ve ever seen. Will never be replicated. Ever. And I mean that.”

She laughs, heartily, even though she knows you’re flat out lying. “Yeah, because they won’t do stage designs like that ever again.” Then she kisses you again; she kisses you as if your lips are her lifeline. “I swear I’m gonna tell management not to do elevated stages when we go on tour!”

This is the Yunjin you know and love; the one that everyone knows her for. Laughs at her own jokes and her own mistakes, and smiles through it all. You’re amazed at how joined to the hip you both are when the cameras aren’t on. When you’re the only ones in the room—when she can truly be herself and not a fragmented version tailored to the public. You both have this special connection together that only you two can understand.

Her smile is so radiant, distracting even, that you recognize too little too late how tense you’re feeling.

“Jen Jen,” you tell her, looking down at her legs. She has a hand between her skirt, and her underwear is already partially down.

“What is it?”

“Can we take this somewhere else,” you tell her, flustered by your own request. There’s no skirting around the thought that you’d rather take her anywhere except for a cold floor in a messy bedroom. She hasn’t realized it yet, but you know Yunjin well; she would never let your imprints stick anywhere in her bedroom, hotel or her apartment, let alone make a mess. That, and for as much as you love the sight of her on top of you, you want to keep things on even footing—for now.

The expression she makes is priceless; it's all part of the charm. She rolls her eyes, scoffing at the thought, as if the very suggestion offends her. She takes a moment to let the notion sink in. “The audacity,” she thinks to herself, the idea seemingly harder to digest if anything else.

“You’re so unserious,” she comments, in the most blunt tone possible, it may as well be condescending. Her thighs press deeper into your jeans to further prove a point. If that’s what she wants., then you’re fine with that. It’s probably a better idea than yours, too. “You shitting me right now?”

“It couldn’t have hurt to ask.”

“Well it wouldn’t have hurt you to be here sooner,” she retorts, grinning, like those words are your biggest mistake. “Then maybe I would absolutely consider it.”

In reality, there’s nothing to consider, because you end up rolling on top of her after she first pounces on top of you. It’s how she usually greets you after a busy day: jumping straight into your arms, then it’s on to the bedroom.

But not tonight. You don’t make that far, just the table by the foyer, the chair she usually reads in, nearly tripping over the coffee table and landing somewhere more comfortable for you both in the living room. In your wake you leave behind a trail of clothes, yours and hers entangled together—mostly yours. It doesn’t take much to undress Yunjin when she’s dressed for the occasion, and by the time she’s halfway unbuttoning through your shirt, she’s on her knees, completely naked.

She kisses you, leaves strawberry marked lips on your tummy, looking so wanton, so needy. Your eyes follow along as she continues down to your pants, before looking up to you with doe-eyed curiosity. She’s got an edge to her, they say, which really just means, “she’s really fucking hot.” Everything about her, from the attitude to the wardrobe screams fierce, someone who knows what they’re doing and doesn’t care about what others say.

But behind closed doors, she’s more like the other girl you know. Someone she tends to look after. She looks vulnerable. It’s cute to watch her act like someone she’s not.

It’s impossible not to help yourself, to stroke your own ego, even at Yunjin’s expense. There’s no hiding that devilish grin; it’s way too obvious. Nodding, you brush your hand through her autumn colored locks as she undoes your jeans, reminding her who she really belongs to.

“Fuck—oh God—” you moan, allowing Yunjin to do what she does best: use her lips to praise your cock. No preamble, no foreplay—just immediately taking you straight into her mouth. You were already hard, so it doesn’t take much effort for her to swallow you up. Both of you using your pent up frustration and impatience after weeks where it seemed as if you were worlds apart.

Leaning back against the wall, you can only imagine how Yunjin looks taking it. Your hand firmly grips the back of her head, while she rubs her fingers along the length of your shaft. She forces out every curse and word of appreciation out of you with a deep tone, it’s almost concerning.

“Slow down,” you mutter, knowing full well she won’t listen. Not for anything. Not for you. She wants this as much as you do.

At first glance, it doesn’t really show—not in the playful, satisfied hums while she blows you nor in the slow, deliberate pump of her fingers around your base. It’s a little too leisurely for someone to act desperate. Then you peek through the curtain of sensory overload, and that’s when everything becomes clear. The furrow of her eyebrows, the fixated attention on your cock, the spread of spit and precum all over your erection.

Maybe she does have a point after all.

She catches you staring, catches you slipping. Her eyes flutter open, then shut. In a flash, she goes from sipping on your cock to choking on it. Forcing you deep in her throat without your input. It leaves your head spinning, back at square one, with no control of Yunjin nor yourself, clinging your hands to the walls for support.

“Jen Jen, shit—” you mouth, but it's near silent in comparison to the sloppy sound she makes gagging. It’s as if she’s laughing at you for looking so helpless against her.

The sensation of her slick mouth burns. Her ever increasing tempo and lack of care or comfort relentlessly pluck away at your resolve and restraint. Her eyes water as she violently pushes her own boundaries, her own limits. Stains gradually pile around her lips and chin, a mixture of her spit, seed, and lipstick. You have her hair wrapped around the print of your fingers, holding loose strands away from her gleaming face. Despite your best efforts, you aren’t able to see her beyond blurry little flashes and brief snapshots. Deep down, you’re set ablaze, with nothing to extinguish you. You look to the ceiling, to the side, anywhere but beneath you, trying to find some reprieve from the agony and tension pulling at your loins.

You end up finding it down there, where you want it the least.

Yunjin has you right where she wants you to be—tightly sealed between her strawberry lips as you helplessly cry out her name in a sea of curses and praise. Anticipating the moment you finally break, she zealously works around her gag reflex to keep you deep in her throat. It doesn’t help that she has your balls around her hand, rubbing away and humming in satisfaction at the big hot load that she’ll receive soon. At points, she’s pouting at the fact that you refuse to surrender yourself entirely to her, that you’re still fighting.

It’s a losing effort that ultimately delays the inevitable.

An echoed shout, a wide drop of your jaw, and right there, lightning strikes—you come undone. Yunjin welcomes you with an open mouth; your thick hot load spills down her throat without a single wasted drop. You’re left wide-eyed, shuddering, panting as your orgasm washes over you. Even so, she continues to squeeze away at your balls without remorse, pumping your cock to unload more cum down her thirsty, needy maw.

Yunjin can’t hold in her delight and laughter after she licks your underside for any leftovers. You cushion back against the wall, your energy completely drained as she laps her lips and chin clean. Just like that, any remnant of what transpired hours ago, completely forgotten. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism—not in the slightest—but if it works, it works.

That’s one department where Yunjin won’t let you down.

“I wasn’t ready,” you huff, palming a hand on your thumping chest, cumbrously catching your breath. You mindlessly stare at the living room light, struggling to gather yourself. “Shit, Jen Jen, that was—”

“And we’re only getting started,” she interjects, quickly rising to her feet, pushing you upright. The grin on her face doubles down on the intent. “I’m not going to bed in a dour mood tonight, and you’re gonna help me feel better.”

God, she’s so damn good at this whole setting the mood thing.

You’re no different than anyone else, folding so easily as her fingers map out your body. Continuous circles around every part that belongs to her: from your hair, to your shoulders, arms, chest, down to your tummy, around your back, and everything else in between. Yunjin demands everything about you, her fiery gaze keeping you in tow. You’re tensing up, letting out these strained gasps, watching her watchful eyes dictate your every little move, reminding you who’s carrying the stick in the relationship.

She has you by the balls, quite literally—pumping you back to hardness—and she’s enjoying every moment of it. Teasing you with her flattering mien, she has every intention to leave you more tired and spent tonight than any day she’s worked in her life.

Then, a phone rings. It’s not the hotel landline, but from the pile around your legs. Suddenly, a lightbulb appears over Yunjin’s head, and the smirk on her lips is anything but subtle.

“Would you look at that,” she teases, her grin growing an extra inch wider, and her ironclad grip loosens. Still, you have no room to breathe when she crouches down to dig your rumbling phone out of the pocket of your pants. She makes it a point to act shocked in response to the incoming caller, then shows her to you.

Kim Chaewon.

It’s an open secret within the group—how important of a piece she is between you two, the perfect reprieve and voice of reason when the other isn’t around. You’ve gotten tangled up with both Chaewon and Yunjin a few times, under the same guise of stress relief. In a way, they’ve grown closer together thanks to you. But the rather scornful frown she has tells you otherwise. As if she’s going to lose the one last thing keeping her head straight. Forget that Chaewon is respectful of your relationship; if she gets in the way between her and your dick, she’ll cut her down, and that goes for anyone else too, friendship be damned.

“Be a good boy and take care of the call, will you?” she asks, tone playful, handing the phone over to you. You have no say, other than to follow her command. In the process, you feel your groin tense up. You look down and find your cock sandwiched between her heavenly thighs, choking up from the new sensation of her creamy skin.

When you try to look away, she redirects your eyes back to hers. Her palm meets your chin. Hard. She curls her lips, expressing disdain and reinforcing her control. There’s your first and last warning.

You’ve never struggled so much just opening your own phone. It’s not that Yunjin just hacked into it; her imprints are everywhere. The very lockscreen is her kissing you, your face cropped out of frame and your homescreen is a candid photo of her more bold outfits. If not for the texts from the other members and loved ones, you’d look like the creepiest, most obsessive stalker ever. You can feed tabloids and news outlets day-to-day information, down to the most intricate details. She’s a huge part of you, and it’s gonna eventually ruin you—

“Hurry up, dipshit.”

Yunjin’s stern tone snaps you from your daze. Hard to maintain a steady head when she’s slowly choking you out and she’s thrusting your cock in and out of her legs, still sore from her blowjob and while you’re still reeling from your orgasm. She’s perfectly built for fucking for hours on end; you’re surprised you hasn’t caught on after so long.

“Hello?” Chaewon’s voice pulls your focus away, but only briefly. Almost instinctively, Yunjin’s legs press tighter against your hard cock in response. She raises her eyebrows, shaking her head, demanding you answer the call. No context clues, no verbal cues, just wing it.

“He-ey, Chae.” Your voice comes out gruff, airy. A brief glimpse down and you find the growing stain on Yunjin’s thighs. Your cock entering and exiting the comfort of her legs. She doesn’t appear satisfied, not even a little.

“Is Yunjin there with you? She’s been gone after we got back to our rooms. She's not been herself after—you know—and we’ve been trying to comfort her to no avail.”

“Yeah, she’s here with me—” you say, looking directly at her, and she nods, still stiff and sour. She leans forward, her tongue pressing against your skin, mumbling something incomprehensible on your neck. Somewhere along the lines of “If you tell her, I’m going to fucking kill you,” and she sounds like she means it.

Try to suppress your gasps and whine, you can’t hold yourself back. It affects your inflection, from gravelly and small to high-pitched and nasally. You’re one wrong move away from meeting disaster, and Yunjin is the one goading you to your own pitfall. She revels running you around in circles, leading you like sheep to a shepard. You can’t think straight from all this built up pressure. “She’s good! She’s doing just fine—”

Out of nowhere, she moans. Loud. Her tone is so obvious, it can’t be anyone but her. Any sort of illusion or pretense is immediately dashed, right then and there. You almost drop your phone, barely managing to save it with a glint of clarity.

You don’t hear from Chaewon for a bit, letting you indulge in Yunjin’s seductive motions. Your body is the perfect outlet for her pleasure: kissing and marking around her neck, her fingers tracing your arms to your chest, and your cock comfortably snug between her sculpted legs. You regain some semblance of control by pumping away between her warmth, but it’s hollow; she lets her thighs press down while you thrust quicker and quicker. At first, she’d been the one bringing all the friction, until your hips begin to glide involuntarily, the wetness dripping from her thighs and around your cock making the transition near-flawless.

Soon, the room fills with the sound of her moans, till it becomes oh-so clear you’re fucking her. The call remains active, but you still hear nothing from Chaewon’s side. The phone in your hand is what’s holding you back, but even you feel your control slip away again; against Yunjin’s demand to pretend everything’s normal, when there’s nothing normal about the position you’re in. The only thing unusual is the fact that Chaewon isn’t there to watch, preferably while pleasuring herself.

“Shit, Yunjin, you feel so fucking good—” you sputter, clutching Yunjin’s nape as she curses and whines against your shoulder. Suddenly, you hear Chaewon again, but you’ve practically stopped caring. She’d understand.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame her for going to you. I’d do the same right now, but I gotta take care of the girls as the leader.” Chaewon sounds so diplomatic about the matter, it’s almost surprising. “Just—” she pauses when Yunjin loudly kisses you, cooing and moaning about how big you are in the direction of your phone. “Please tell her to come back here by morning, all right?”

“Sure—thing.” Your tone jumps on the second word, as your cock hits a particularly deep stroke that teases the outline of her cunt.

“Oh, and Kkura said hi, by the way.”

You’re amazed at how understanding she is.

“Okay.” You look down and you see Yunjin adjust your cock around the entrance of her pussy with her hand, impatient and done with the teasing. All the possible replies to maintain normalcy and your best response ends up being a simple, hurried “Hi.”

“Bye.”

You drop your phone right as Chaewon hangs up the call. Yunjin immediately kisses you straight in the lips, sliding her tongue between your lips. She lets out this strained whine when you grab her ass, lightly pushing her away. Miraculously, she doesn’t fight back or lash out.

“Don’t you wanna cum right in my pussy?”

“No, Jen Jen. Let me finish right in your thighs.”

Yunjin flashes this sad, deflated frown, but she ultimately concedes. She’s this multifaceted character only you might ever hope to understand. She's a perfectionist and wants things her way, but she’s also soft and vulnerable. You feel guilty making this rather huge request, but she reassures you by pressing your cock comfortably between her legs. Your worries soon disappear when the friction of her heat keeps your hips moving. The sight of your dick moving in-and-out keeps you preoccupied.

Even she forgets about her disappointment too, hypnotized by the continuous rhythm of your cock. She pulls your head in, moans all these profanities of varying tones in your ear. The way you both pull each other’s bodies apart, your expressions twisting in pleasure, demanding more—you might as well be in bed, and not breaking your knees and backs against the living room wall.

You’re not sure what’s going to break first—your legs, your back, your hips, or your cock.

“Oh—fuck—Yunjin,” you groan, losing yourself in her asphyxiating heat of her skin, on the verge of another climax. You have one hand marking her ass as you both grind into each other’s bodies. God, you’re both made for one another. Drowning in her tightness, you thrust deep between her legs. Same spot, same stroke, same result. You remember where and how well you’ve fucked her, it’s almost muscle memory to you. It drives Yunjin crazy.

She senses your incoming orgasm and shouts. The need for you to cum isn’t a request, but a full demand. Something to be expected. Her voice hits those familiar high notes that aren’t far off from her usual recordings, and she firmly clings to you. As if you ever had any other thought than to finish on her pencilike legs. You let yourself succumb to the sensation, let all the pent up pressure set itself off while you bask in that delirious high.

The way Yunjin clenches her thighs around your cock, she may as well have snapped it off.

You both mirror each other’s expressions; eyes completely shut, jaw completely agape, resting in each other’s bodies. The only difference being that Yunjin is way, way louder than you. Your mind goes completely blank, with nothing but her name drawn out from the curve of your lips. Your back is aching; your knees are tingling, ready to fail at any time. Nothing registers for you except her voice, her endless moan that rings in your ear. It’s only after her legs involuntarily slacken their grip that you fall.

To the floor, that is.

And you stay down—a minute, maybe several, completely shaken up and your head still riding that high. Somewhere in limbo. One hand gripped to her waist, the other on her leg. You forget to breathe. Your brain doesn’t register the concept of exhaling, only taking in air. The world around you appears to pause completely.

And then your phone beeps. Still dazed, you completely ignore it.

Yunjin brings you back to life. She has one hand gripped against the wall, the other on your hair—which you now just realize—gasping for much needed air. She can’t muster up the strength to open her eyes, so you assess the damage. It’s as disastrous as it looks: a huge splatter of cum around her legs, dripping down to her feet. To the floor. To your pants.

You don’t say a word; you don’t really have anything meaningful or productive to add. The simple question of whether or not she feels better, but you know she’ll say it won’t be enough. That she wants your cum right in her pussy, no matter how spent or sore you are. Maybe you can quietly weave your way out of a nightlong bedroom session.

So you look at your phone, removing yourself from the situation. There’s two new messages, both from the same person—Chaewon. Nothing noteworthy, just the reminder to send Yunjin back early in the morning. The idol life never really stops.

Yunjin calls out to you, abruptly intercepting your attention. “Hey.”

You look up and find her looking down at the details, slowly gathering her bearings. She runs a finger on a sticky patch on her skin, then tastes your seed with her tongue. “What’s up?”

She ignores you for a moment to gather more cum to lap, then stares directly at you. “We should have done this in front of a mirror.”

You pause. It’s hard to believe Yunjin telling you this, when she’s been the biggest skeptic. She’d rather have it in bed, on the table—anywhere that won’t allow her to see herself. The uncanny image of a prim, desirable idol bent over while someone uses her.

With that in mind, you chuckle. “We do it all the time. Give it a break.”

—————

You both end up doing it anyway.

It’s two in the morning, and you vividly have Chaewon’s request at the back of your mind. The group’s flight back home is in six hours, and Yunjin has to be there with them for breakfast. It’s not like you’ll be away long term; she has three days-off after today. Days when you can spend all the time in the world together to your heart’s content. But fuck, Yunjin is so goddamn insatiable, she can’t go at least three hours without your cock somehow around her. You don’t end up getting sleep, because she’s so needy for your cock she can’t help but stroke it or blow it back to hardness.

Your suggestion? A late night coffee run that ends in predictable fashion: you, fucking Yunjin from behind in the comfort of a cafe restroom.

Yunjin’s outfit barely qualifies as casual; if anything, it’s her performance fit (a sports bra and a short skirt) from earlier, topped only by the leather jacket she went to your room with. Yet none of that matters when they’re pooled on the floor, with your hand squeezing her bare breast and the other pressed on her shapely ass. And there’s your hard cock, pounding away at her soaked cunt like it’s second nature—which it is—and it’s quite the motivating sight. Watching it appear and disappear in her pussy, hearing her hushed pleas, echoed cries, and every lewd sound in between.

The cafe across your hotel is completely empty, which is to be expected. You can count the number of working staff on one hand, and most of them are fast asleep or busy on their phone. You’re not making any excuses for fucking Yunjin at a place like this; you’re merely laying out the scene.

You can blame Yunjin for your precarious position. Any attempt to make some small talk she makes it about you. About missing your cock so much, about how she wants you to fill her pussy up and make her feel better. As if two orgasms wasn’t enough. You wouldn’t be surprised if she asked you to fuck her right then and there, in front of the cafe where everyone can see. You end up agreeing to a compromise, but it’s merely delaying the inevitable. The door is locked shut, nobody’s around to hear, and no one really cares.

If only it were that simple.

“Fuck—so—fucking—big!” cries out Yunjin, as if you were in the privacy of your hotel room and not in front of a public restroom. She gives it to you again, praises you in both murmurs and screams, her hands glued on the edges of the sink, eyes fluttering open and closed with her jaw agape on the surface. It’s as filthy as you imagined, if not more. Only you can see the full extent of the damage you’re making, and it is breathtaking.

She beckons you to fuck her harder, give her more, tells you not to stop. The idea never crosses your mind. When she yells and mewls, she’s making sure each one is louder than the last. You can tell she has nothing to lose. If she’s going down, she’ll drag you down with her.

“You’re so fucking tight, Jen Jen,” you groan out, looking at your entangled bodies in the mirror, at her arched back, at the curvature of her ass, at your cock spearing her hard. You puncture each of your next three words with increasing emphasis. “So—fucking—tight.”

As the sex dissolves into deeper madness, so does your restraint. You’re fucking her through the sink, pounding away with reckless abandon, with zero care for comfort. Thoughtless, impulsive drops of ‘tight,’ ‘fuck,’ and even a single ‘slut’ bomb—words that can get you cancelled on-air. Yunjin shudders, letting out this drawn out ‘yes’ in response, as if admitting the truth—to your utter surprise (sarcasm). Her core clenches against your cock, stretching her out. So wet, so needy—

It’s a strange thing to believe, but this is Yunjin’s first orgasm of the night. Her lands lay flat on the sink, and her mouth lolls wide, screaming your name like you’re the most important person in the world. The intense heat, the suffocating pulse of her cunt, drowning your cock—

Fuck, it’s too much for your already aching cock. And her thighs and lips were brutal in their own right.

Moments after hers, your very own climax follows. You’ve already struggled holding back twice; whatever amount of resolve you had left is non-existent. Moving from her chest at some point, the hand on her hair yanks harder. Pushing your hips as far as they can go, wishing your cock can somehow enter her womb—you ignore the possibility that you might be hurting her.

‘Hurts so good’ exists for a reason.

The remnants of your orgasm continue to leave Yunjin in shambles. A brief look at the aftermath, and the first impression is that you didn’t fuck her hard enough. Your hot cum spilling from her splayed, ruined hole, her clothes on the other side of the restroom, and your pants receiving some of her hot slick. Yunjin remains bent on the sink, huffing through her own climax, your hand deeply imprinted on her ass, and marks, scratches, and rosy patches on her back—vestiges of hours gone by.

You remain like this for a little while longer: cuddling up against her frame while she rests on the sink, softly kissing around her ear, brushing strands of loose red hair. She’s gorgeous, there’s no denying that. When she performs, when she’s being herself, when she’s getting pounded hard—but she looks best when she’s calm, when she’s at her softest, at her most vulnerable. When you’re all alone and you both have nothing to hide. At the end of the day, you both need each other. For everything.

—————

You and Yunjin might as well be strangers.

It’s as if the past seven hours happened in a different timeline. Both of you casually lounge in the still lifeless cafe, drinking the nonexistent traces of your iced coffee. You scroll through social media; Yunjin still dominates the trends and new reposts of the viral accident pop-up like they’re produced from a factory. She’s doing the same, reading through all the comments. Some memes, some praising her professionalism, some simply to get that verified ad revenue.

This will be completely forgotten in a week. Yunjin’s career will come out unscathed. People move on. She will, too.

Yet you still remain awkward with her, completely undecided on the words that she really needs right now. She needs you more than just your body.

“Jen Jen,” you whisper, before you freeze up at her anxious gaze. She waits for a follow-up, a sentence, anything. It never comes.

She frowns. She’s not mad, only disappointed.

The sun begins to rise over the city, signaling the start of a new day. Knowing this, Yunjin adjusts her jacket and rises from her seat. You never told her once.

She walks through the door, and steps outside—but not before turning and taking one last concerned look at you. You quietly mouth ‘Love you,’ and surprisingly, she smiles. The Yunjin you know and love.

‘Love ya.’

—————

(A/N: againsorryfornotpostingmuchlatelyohgodivebeensobusy—

Ginger/red hair Yunjin didn't grow on me at first. Then the Good Bones teaser dropped. The strut. The attitude. The fact they allowed her to walk around in her bra and panties. What the fuck. I've been so down bad for her lately, and so are you. Looking forward to their new music! Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #le sserafim #yunjin #huh yunjin

1K notes · View notes

honeyedmiller · 2 months

Text

The Hills | Joel Miller

pairing: actor!joel x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: no outbreak!joel, joel miller au, use of marijuana (reader gets high and joel takes a hit), alcohol consumption, enemies to not-so-much-enemies, joel is on his freak shit in this one, smut (fingering, ass play, cum eating, rimming, unprotected piv, spitting, m & f oral receiving, consensual choking and breath play), reader is lowkey a brat but joel is also an ass, joel’s twitchy palm™, two (2) ass slaps, reader is described to be wearing a dress and heels, mentions of usage of cocaine (non-descriptive and it’s neither reader or joel using—just had to add the warning), no use of y/n. if there’s anything that i missed, please lmk.

word count: 6.1k

synopsis: drugs. sex. fame. joel miller—the very man you despise. something about hollywood or other. it all seems to become a blurred line when you get invited to an oscars after party at a house in the hills.

a/n: shoutout to @joelsgreys for keeping eyes on this for me, for beta’ing, for letting me rant about this continuously in our texts, etc etc. ily

Hollywood: the definition of glitz and glamor, celebrities galore, and wild parties.

Right?

Sort of.

You’d been to these afterparties before—chaos, laughter, and drunk or high celebrities every which way. The afterparties that showed the real side of Hollywood’s favorite people. The afterparties where secretive sex ensues in a hidden room tucked in the back of the mansion. The afterparties where people let loose, had fun, and celebrated their wins, or the wins of their friends.

That’s exactly why you were here. This particular multi-million dollar home was chalk-full of familiar famous faces that would get absolutely trashed without the public knowing a single thing about their rendezvous, celebrating each other’s wins.

It was like an unspoken rule amongst all the attendees: what happens at the after party, stays at the after party.

Tess Servopoulos, a well-known actress, was your best friend. She always invited you to the award shows when she could, and made sure you were invited to the afterparties. In this case, it was the after party for The Oscars, where her other best friend was celebrating his wins tonight, taking home three Oscars just hours prior.

And it’s funny, because to you, the devil wasn’t down in Georgia. He was in fucking Los Angeles, California, and his name is Joel Miller.

Arrogant, conceited, and a complete asshole as far as you were concerned. You’d never had a good interaction with the man, always seeming to have targeted hatred toward you for no particular reason.

So you hated him right back.

Because, honestly, who the fuck did he think he was?

You didn’t give two shits if he was an A-lister. Good for him. His arrogance and asshole-ish nature was enough to make you roll your eyes at the mere sight of him. He was one of those people that everybody seemed to absolutely adore, thinking he was doing everyone a solid favor just by being in their presence.

And you think, the fuck does it matter anyway? Your opinion of one man in a room full of elites is about as relevant as a speck of fucking dirt on the bottom of some Louboutins.

You inwardly sighed and drank from the champagne flute that was placed in your hand once you maneuvered your way into the house. Tess dragged you along to say hello to people you’ve met before, and introduced you to those you hadn’t. Most of them were fairly nice, some remembering you from previous parties or recognizing you in god-awful candid shots that paparazzi took of you when you were with Tess.

Tabloids were always a funny thing. There were multiple times where you’d see a photo of yourself in public with Tess, plastered in some stupid celebrity magazine claiming you were her ‘mystery lover.’ Or, there were the times where they’d call you a gold digger; someone who wanted fifteen minutes of fame and all the “luxuries” that came with being acquainted with a celebrity.

You always had a good laugh with Tess about them, and she’d tell you that one day she’d share the story behind you: a college roommate who was her total opposite, but it worked. You were there from the beginning—she’d get casted in parts for commercials, then extras for TV shows, and then bigger roles like a supporting character, and eventually the lead character in many blockbuster hits.

You were her biggest supporter, there for her through her wins and losses. She was truly your platonic soulmate, and you, hers.

You always plastered a smile on your face when making your rounds at these things. Got a little star-struck here and there, but you kept your cool. Celebrities are human beings, after all.

The party was in full swing, people plastered and laughing loudly over the thumping music. Sometimes you thought these parties got a little ridiculous, but you knew this was a rare occasion where these people—faces of the public, under a watchful eye of millions of adoring fans and the scrutinizing media—got the chance to loosen up and be their real selves.

You swirled the champagne around your flute, babysitting the same glass from when you first walked into this party. You leaned against a crisp white wall adorned with what you were sure were very expensive paintings, observing the crowd before you.

The familiarity that drifted through the room was almost unsettling for you. Friends with arms slung over each other’s shoulders, casual and comfortable conversation—and then there was you, who didn’t really know anyone but Tess. She didn’t want to leave your side, but she’d gotten pulled every which way for a conversation and you didn’t want to ride her coattail all night, so you told her you’d get yourself another drink, maybe.

And you were going to, but then the room felt a little too warm. So, naturally, you ventured down another long hallway adorned with paintings and expensive side tables with vases that held fresh flowers that probably cost more than you’d ever see in your lifetime.

Your heels clicked rhythmically against the marble flooring as you made your way to two French double doors that led out to a balcony that was unoccupied.

Perfect.

You opened the doors and sucked in a huge breath of air, admiring the lights gleaming throughout the whole of Los Angeles as far as you could see.

And then you wondered, with every house and apartment and business that was illuminated with a soft yellow light, what each individual occupying these spaces stories were.

People that weren’t famous. People that had regular nine-to-five jobs. People who were desperately trying to make ends meet. People like you, you think.

You loved Tess to death. You’d do anything and everything for her, but Hollywood was secretly a massive headache.

You sighed as you tore your eyes away from the soft lights, opening your clutch to find the joint you brought. Just something to take the edge off and ease the fucking nerves that started coursing through you, unwanted and untimely.

You fished the pre-roll and lighter out of your bag, flicking the lighter on in multiple attempts, but no avail.

You groaned as you kept trying, but the realization that your lighter was done for had swept over you quickly.

“Son of a bitch.” You mutter with a heavy sigh.

“Need a light?” A deep voice asked from behind. A familiar voice. A voice with Southern twang that supposedly charmed every person that was blessed to hear it. A voice you couldn’t fucking stand.

You look over your shoulder to see Joel Miller in the flesh, clad in a crisp white button-down with the top two buttons unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest. The shirt was tucked into some black slacks, accompanied by shiny black shoes.

You hated to admit that he looked good. Real good. But you wouldn’t ever dare to admit that out loud, even with a gun to your head.

“No.” You said, turning back around. His footsteps become closer, and you roll your eyes before you have to restrain yourself from physically shuddering at the proximity between you two.

“Stop bein’ a brat and jus’ take the goddamn light.” Joel rolls his eyes, and you turn to face him. He’s next to you now, leaning against the balcony while holding up a lighter.

You eye him conspicuously, and he looks annoyed as he flicks the lighter on and off. You grit your teeth before slotting the joint between your fingers, bringing it up to your lips.

He easily flicks his lighter on once more, bringing the flame to the end of the joint. The small flame illuminates the space between your bodies, and he looks good with the soft orange glow against his tan skin, you think.

The end of the joint crackles and you inhale deeply, turning your body toward the lights of the city once more.

You blow out the smoke slowly, tilting your head to the side. “Thanks,” You mutter.

“Hm,” He hums, “Would ya look at that. Not that hard to use your manners now, ain’t it?”

“Shut up, Joel. Christ.” You rub your forehead with your thumb, eyebrows pinching together. You came out here for some peace, not to be annoyed and antagonized by the very man you couldn’t stand.

“Hey, I jus’ did ya a favor. No need for that fuckin’ attitude of yours.”

“Jesus fuck, Joel, do you not have anything better to do? Shouldn’t you be fucking one of your whores by now or snorting coke in the bathroom with another beloved A-lister?” You roll your eyes and take another hit.

Joel didn’t like that one bit. He took a step forward, broad body hard to ignore with the heat radiating off of him. Your eyes trail up his chest and to his face, which was contorted with pure anger.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talkin’ to me like that? You’re pissin’ off the wrong person, doll.” Joel’s voice is gruff, full of patience that was smaller than a piece of thread at this point.

“I don’t need to bow down to you just because you’re famous, asshole. You’re the one who’s had the problem with me from the beginning. I only reciprocate the energy I receive, so you can fuck all the way off with the superiority complex you think you have over me.”

“Why the fuck are you here anyway? Hollywood ain’t a place for naïve girls like you.” Joel quirks his harsh brow at you, like he’s challenging you.

Motherfucker.

“And who said I was naïve, cowboy? You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know that you’re annoyin’ and don’t fuckin’ belong here. God knows what Tess sees in you as a friend n’ why she keeps invitin’ you to these things.”

Your blood ran hot as you stared at the man in front of you. His jaw was set in a hard line, clenching his teeth every so often in pure annoyance as he looked at you with utter hatred and disgust.

“I may not belong in Hollywood, Miller, but at least my fucking morals are right and I don’t pull bitch moves like abandoning my friends when they need me the most.”

You were infuriated and quite frankly so fucking sick of this man berating you when he should be the last person on this green fucking Earth to talk. It was a low blow, your last comment to him, but what kind of a friend was he to choose a woman he was so pussywhipped over instead of being there for Tess when she was going through a rough time?

It broke your heart to see her so upset that Joel chose another woman he barely knew over her, icing her out when she’d been nothing but a good friend to him. She forgave him, of course, after he’d apologized to her months later.

She had a kinder heart than you would’ve at the situation. You don’t think you could ever forgive somebody for that.

You already thought Joel was an arrogant asshole before that even happened, but that situation was the last nail in the coffin to confirm that he’s exactly the person you thought he was.

“I apologized to her. We’re good now.” Joel’s harsh stare never wavered, but the annoyance in his tone did. He almost sounded…sad.

“Yeah. Whatever.” You roll your eyes, flicking the ash off of the end of the joint before taking another hit. Your mind was already starting to become hazy, and the proximity between you and Joel was starting to make your head spin.

Your gaze flickered up to his face once more, brown eyes still locked on you. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, Joel plucks the joint from your fingers. He puts the filter up to his lips and deeply inhales, and you frown.

“Get your own recreational drugs, asshole.” You mutter, arms crossing over your chest. Joel’s eyes trail down to your chest before moving back up to yours. A small smirk evades his lips, and he blows the smoke into your face.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

“Fuck you gonna do? Spank me for not thinking you’re all high and mighty and shit?” The frown is permanent on your face as you assess him, not realizing the impact that your words had on him.

His cock stirred in his slacks at the thought of that.

He stubs out the half-finished joint before handing it back to you. You tuck it away in your purse before looking at him again, carefully studying him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He’s got a knowing look on his face, and you have to force yourself to feign disgust.

Because, goddammit, you probably would. You’d probably be all over him if he wasn’t such a fucking asshole. The rage you’ve targeted toward him has made you see past his rugged looks and charm, the broadness of him and the veins that protrude from his hands to his forearms and—

You’ve wondered briefly what it’d be like to succumb to it. To be like every single other person who melts for him like lava seeping into the deepest cracks of the Earth. Untouchable. Destructive. And yet, a beautiful aftermath.

“Think I’ll take that as a yes.” His laugh rumbles from deep within his sturdy chest. For a moment he looks so carefree, so light and happy while he laughs. It might’ve been at your own expense, but for the slightest second, you saw through the harsh stares and the hateful demeanor.

“Fuck you, Miller.”

His mouth snapped shut and his harsh gaze settled on you again. His nostrils flared as he glared at you, a heat behind his eyes you’ve never seen before. His palm twitches at his side and he opens his mouth to say something argumentative, but closes it after a second.

Before you know it, he wraps his hand around your forearm, dragging you behind him.

You nearly trip over your heels as you try to keep up with him, wriggling in his strong grasp. He wouldn’t let up.

“Let go of me you asshole!” You seethe, but he pushes you into a room—tucked at the back of the mansion—secluded from everyone else. Oh.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You quickly realized you were in for it when he shut the door and locked it. Nerves buzzed in your veins and you inhaled a shaky breath.

He looked like he was some sort of predator stalking its prey with the way his eyes scanned your body as he moved around to the other side of the room.

“Real fuckin’ sick of your attitude.” He starts. You scoff at him and throw your arms up.

“Wouldn’t have to deal with it if you just left me the fuck alone in the first place.” You cross your arms over your chest once more, and Joel takes two large strides toward you before he’s standing so close that you can smell the whiskey and weed on his breath.

“N’ that’s the problem, darlin’, I can’t leave you alone. Been wanting to fuck that attitude right outta you since the first day we met.”

You swear your heart drops into your ass. “Wh-what?” Your eyes are wide as he walks forward, forcing you to move backwards until the backs of your knees hit the king-sized bed.

You didn’t even notice there was a bed in the room because the very man before you was insanely distracting.

“You heard me. You’re a brat, baby, n’ brats deserve to be punished.”

You swallow hard as a fire burns behind his eyes, mischievous and daring.

“Joel—”

“Turn around.”

You don’t even think twice before listening to his demand, turning around so you face the bed.

“Can’t hate me that much if you’re an obedient little thing for me, hm?” The amusement was oozing from his Southern drawl.

Your first instinct was to argue with him, but deep down you knew he was right. Maybe all the hatred you had for him had a little bit of desire sprinkled deep down in the depths of your core, unexplored and completely disregarded.

The thought of his hands on you excited you. You saw the way he touched women in the movies he was in. Regardless if it was just acting or not, you always ended up aroused after Tess would force you to watch any movie of his—especially the ones with erotica. She would tease you about not liking him, unknowing of the true abhorrence that stirred in your body. He was her best friend too, so you had to be cordial to him around her for her sake.

You tried to ignore him altogether, but where it got you now—pressed up against the bed as his large hands landed onto your body to tightly grip your hips—didn’t seem to pan out so well.

“Will you let me touch you?” His voice has a rough edge to it, the teasing long gone as he stares at your figure from behind.

“Yes.” You whisper.

He doesn’t say another word as his calloused hands slide around your thighs and to the front of your body. He presses himself against you, and the warmth he radiates off of his body alone makes you sigh.

He’s so sturdy and strong, just as you imagined him to be. You could feel his cock hardening against the plump of your ass, and you wiggle in the slightest to tease him.

He inhales sharply, one hand sliding underneath the hem of your dress while the other hand splayed out onto your stomach.

The skimpy panties you had on did a terrible job at keeping your arousal strictly within the confines of the lace fabric. The apex of your thighs was smeared with the neediness you refused to address, now completely on display for the man it was all for.

Joel’s hand skimmed your inner thighs, chuckling darkly as he traced the outline of your pussy with his thumb through the fabric.

You tried your hardest to hold back a moan, really. You fucking tried. As soon as the sound bubbled in your throat and glided past your lips, you could feel Joel’s smile in victory. He was always playing chess while you were playing checkers.

Well, check fucking mate for him.

“Didn’t know I got ya this excited, baby.” He grips the hem of your panties, sliding them down your legs. You step out of them and he immediately pockets them.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” You mumble, not wanting to feed into his already huge ego.

“Oh I’m sure I’m not,” He starts, breath hot on your neck. “Doesn’t mean I won’t ruin every other fuckin’ man for you. Bend over.”

You clench around nothing at his words, deciding that staying silent is better than digging yourself deeper into your own fucking grave.

You do as he says and bend over the bed, cheek resting against the soft silk sheets.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ make sure I’m all you think about after this. Fuck yourself with your fingers to flashbacks of tonight. Moanin’ my fuckin’ name all alone in your house, wishing I was there to take care of you instead. Fuckin’ brat.”

His words sound like a simultaneous threat and promise, but you just had to say something. You couldn’t let him completely have this without giving him some kind of shit.

“Oh please, I bet I’ll forget as soon as we walk out of this room. You’ve probably got a small dick anyway.”

And you know that isn’t true. He’s huge, and you know he’ll never let you forget about tonight.

A sharp sting blooms onto one of your asscheeks, the sound of him smacking your flesh reverberating off of the walls of the bedroom. You moan at the delicious pain.

“You n’ I both know that ain’t true, doll. Enough with that fuckin’ mouth of yours. Could put it to better use than talkin’ all that shit.”

His hands knead the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to get a good look at all of you. You almost feel embarrassed, but decide not to get into your head too much about it because all you want him to do is fucking touch you where you need him the most.

Your core was aching. You were almost ready to put your pride aside and fucking beg him to touch you. Almost.

You were about to give in when you heard him shuffle behind you, and you craned your neck to see Joel drop onto his knees behind you.

His eyes locked with yours as he gave you a smirk before leaning forward to bite your ass. You let out a small yelp, and his hand was quick to soothe the pain.

“Gonna fuckin’ set you right once n’ for all.”

And he brings a hand up to your core, sliding his middle and ring finger through your dripping folds. You whimper softly at the sensation, a small flood of relief coursing through your veins. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Your hips start to rock involuntarily, and Joel tsks at you.

“Greedy fuckin’ whore, aren’t ya? Patience is a virtue, baby.” He chides.

“Goddamnit Joel.” Your voice sounds breathy, even to your own surprise.

Suddenly, Joel slips his two fingers into you, and your hands fly out to grip the sheets beneath you. Your eyebrows furrow together and relish in the feeling of his thick fingers scissoring in and out of your aching cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet already. ‘F I woulda known I did this to ya…” He chuckles, working his fingers in and out of you expertly.

He leans forward and licks up your folds, swirling his tongue around your clit. You can’t help the strangled moan that leaves your mouth, and you can just feel Joel’s cocky ass smirk.

He continues lapping up your arousal, more dripping out around his fingers and down to his wrist. It'd been awhile since anyone touched you like this, so you presume you were extra turned on because of that reason.

You didn’t want to give all the credit to Joel.

His tongue slid up and he removed his fingers from you, replacing them with his tongue as he prodded it into your entrance and fucked you with it.

You were already a moaning mess, like you were on cloud nine with the way he was making you feel. He gripped both of your cheeks and spread them further for his own leisure, tongue dragging upward until it met your asshole.

“Holy fuck, Joel—” You choke out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he swirls his tongue around the tight ring. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your pussy clenches around nothing.

Joel lowly moaned around you, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine.

You don’t know how long he’s doing this for—your mind is still hazy from the high you’ve been riding, pleasure wrapped around every single inch of your body. You lose track of time and immerse yourself in how he’s making you feel.

Joel pulls himself away from you, sliding both of his fingers back into you. This time, though, he teases your other hole with the tip of his pinky.

“You ever let anyone fuck this pretty ass of yours with their fingers?”

“Please.” Was all you could squeak out, because while you didn’t want to admit you never have, you were willing to give it a go. It was obvious he knew what he was doing, and if you didn’t like the way something felt, you’d just tell him.

He spits onto your asshole before grunting, “Relax.”

And you do. He slides his pinky into your puckered hole, and fuck you feel so full with him like this. He works his three fingers in and out of you slowly at first, each move calculated and precise.

He may’ve been an asshole, but he at least wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

He picks up the pace of his fingers after he’s sure you can handle it, and the feeling of pleasure seizes your body as you shake underneath him.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. You can feel your orgasm rapidly building building building, the coil wound so tight that your stomach constricts in plea of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Joel I’m gonna—oh fuck!”

And you’re literally gushing around his fingers. He prolongs your orgasm as long as he can. You think he’s saying things like there you go, that’s it, but you can hardly pay attention over the loud ringing in your ears as you try and come down from your Earth-shattering orgasm.

He slips his fingers out of you slowly, watching your body convulse sporadically from the aftermath of it all.

He grabs your body and flips you around so you’re laying at the edge of the bed. The fluorescent lights are blinding as you try and look at his face. You blink rapidly, chest heaving up and down as you try your damndest to find your bearings once more.

He’s unfastening the button on his slacks, and all you can hear is the rustle of the fabric and the thumping music outside of the locked door.

You wondered briefly if anyone—Tess, specifically—was looking for the two of you. You’d be mortified if she found you like this, but Joel was smart enough to lock the doors.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even noticed he was pulling down his underwear, so when you looked back at him you gasped when you saw his stiff, aching length. Your hunch was correct—he was huge. His tip was red, smeared with precome and just begging to be taken care of.

If there was any time in your life to impress Joel Miller, now was your chance. You sit up on your knees and lower your head, looking up at him through your lashes, your mouth inches away from his tip.

The muscle in his jaw ticked furiously, brown eyes watching you meticulously. You gave him a small, cocky smirk before you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste. You use one hand to steady yourself onto the bed, and the other to wrap around his length as you start to pump him slowly.

He inhales sharply, holding back a groan as you undoubtedly start to please him.

You set a steady rhythm between your hand and mouth. The wet sounds are obscene and nearly pornographic. A part of you wishes this was being recorded so you’d have something to watch back when you needed to get yourself off.

Greed is a tragedy, and tragic you were in this moment.

Joel’s hand flies to the back of your head, cradling it as you remove your hand and slide your lips as far down his shaft as your mouth would allow. The head of his cock hit the back of your throat, and as much as you were salivating, you swallowed around him.

The tip of your nose barely made contact with the wiry hairs at the base of his cock, and Joel let out the most guttural groan you’d ever heard.

“Filthy fuckin’ mouth, baby. Goddamn. Knew it could be put to better use than you—ngh—spewin’ that fuckin’ attitude.”

You hum around him, bobbing your head up and down his length. His pants were getting more rapid and he was becoming more vocal, grunting fuck and filthy, filthy girl.

“Shit, yeah, just like that doll. Just. Like. That.” Joel’s voice is hoarse behind his clenched teeth. If you didn’t know any better, he’d probably shatter his teeth with how hard he was clenching them.

And you don’t let up. Not even after a string of curses spills past his lips, and definitely not after he groans so loudly that it vibrates through his whole body as ropes of his come spill down your throat.

You’re in overstimulation territory, and he’s falling apart at the seams.

He pulls your head off of his length as he tries to catch his breath, sweat beading at his temples.

“Fuckin’ christ.” He breathes, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you again.

“Didn’t know I would be so good at that now, did you?” You tease, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a snarl.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says, and you laugh. He grabs your hips suddenly, flipping you around once more so you’re on all fours for him again.

“‘M’keepin’ my promise. Gonna fuck that attitude straight outta your goddamn brain.” His tone is serious, and you’re beginning to think he really isn’t fucking around.

You hear him pump himself a few times and you think about the dangerous threshold you’re about to cross with him. Would you regret it after? Would he?

It was like you were both taking a bite of forbidden fruit, specially picked from the Garden of Eden.

Fuck it. There’s worse things you can do.

“You on any birth control?” He asks, and you nod.

“IUD.”

“Good.” He says before sliding the head of his cock through your folds. Your body jerks when it catches your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

Without another word, Joel pushes into you and you stretch around him deliciously. It’s like your body was begging for him to be inside you at this point.

“Fuuuck.” Joel groans, gripping your hips so tightly they’d probably be bruised by tomorrow.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, because he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and the sting won’t go away.

“Move, Joel.” You plead, and he smacks your ass once again, making you flutter around his cock.

“Fuck did I say about patience? Christ, woman.”

You shut your eyes as you feel him become fully erect inside you, and you’re seriously going to cry if he doesn’t move soon.

Almost as if he’d read your mind, he started to thrust his hips slowly. It didn’t take long for him to set a pace, though, and he was brutally pistoning in and out of you.

“Fucking…. hate… you.” You spit pathetically, holding onto the sheets for dear life. He laughs dryly behind you, mumbling a sure before going even harder.

Your moans were getting louder and louder, and you truthfully couldn’t give two fucks who heard you at this point.

Fucking let them hear.

“Better hush up now, whole house could probably hear you with how loud you’re bein’.” He scolded, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t give a fuck,” You squeaked out, “Let them.”

“Attagirl,” His laugh was mischievous, pounding into you even faster than before. “Little fuckin’ whore loves takin’ this cock, hm?”

One of his hands moved up your body, causing chills down your spine and goosebumps to raise onto your skin.

His hand wrapped around your throat, and you moaned at the idea of getting choked out while he fucked you from behind.

One of your hands flew up to his, and he was half expecting you to yank it away. He was pleasantly surprised when you clamped your fingers down around his, silently urging him to squeeze.

And he did. You felt like you were fucking floating.

Joel didn’t let up, even when you felt the burning hot coil wind up in your core once again.

“Feel so fucking good– s–o so fucking— fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess. He pulls your body up so your back is facing his front, never letting his pace waver.

“Fucking you dumb on my cock, aren’t I? Listen to you, baby. Pathetic.” He laughs at you once again, but you don’t have any willpower to fight back. You just let it happen, because each thrust of his cock into you has your body turning into complete fucking mush.

“Close.” Is what you whisper, and Joel can feel your walls tightening around him. He chokes on a moan at the sensation, fingers tightening around your throat even more.

You can barely breathe, but you fucking love it. You love seeing stars cloud your vision like this. The heightened sensation of your orgasm comes crashing down over you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you silently scream out.

Your body convulses continuously as you try to ride out your orgasm, but Joel’s hand leaves your throat and moves down to your clit to rub at it furiously.

You cry out his name, your hands frantic to find purchase to anything as you try and brace yourself.

It’s no use, though. Your body is limp and your soul fucking escaped from you long ago.

“Where do you want me?” The urgency in his voice is evident, but you’re in such a daze that you barely clock it.

“Inside me.” You manage, and he groans loudly before he lets go, filling you up with everything he has. His body slumps over yours, both of you trying so hard to pull yourselves back to reality.

He slides out of you and you both groan at the loss of being one.

You turn over on your back, once again blinded by the lights. Your eyes flutter close as you assess everything that partook the last—thirty? fourty? you don’t fucking know—minutes of your life.

Your body slowly floats back down to reality, and you peel your eyes open when you hear shuffling. Joel is on his knees again, spreading your legs to look at his handiwork. He looks up at you with that same devilish smirk, licking up his spend from your cunt before hovering over you.

He uses his thumb to coax your jaw open, spitting his spend into your mouth.

“Swallow.” He demands, and you do as he says. You open your mouth to show him you did, and a satisfied look washes over his features.

“Hope you feel me leakin’ out of you all goddamn night, sweetheart.”

You look at him incredulously, reality crashing down with the unwavering truth: you and Joel really fucked.

He was inches away from your face, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it would be like if he kissed you. His lips looked so soft.

But that would make it too complicated. It would turn into a thing you didn’t need it to be, and you knew kissing him would make the probability of hating him into a fucking zero.

Get a grip.

But, you catch him. You catch his eyes flicker down to your lips, the same thing probably reeling in his mind, too.

Maybe one wouldn’t hurt.

No. You wouldn’t allow it for yourself. He can take his Southern charm and shove it up his ass.

You cleared your throat and moved to stand up. Your legs were shaky at first, but you found your grounding as you walked over to the mirror on the other side of the room.

You straightened out your appearance, making sure you didn’t have “I just got fucked” plastered across your forehead. Once you were satisfied, you turned around to see Joel sitting on the bed.

You nod at him once, “Joel,” and you’re unlocking the door to be rejoined by the thumping music and loud laughter, leaving him to stare at you as you walked away.

You made your way into the backyard, needing a breath of fresh air after everything that ensued.

“There you are! I was looking all over for you.” Tess pulls you into her side, giving your arm a playful squeeze as she holds you close.

“Yeah, I uh, went to smoke a J.” Which, yes, was of course partially true—but you’d probably never admit to her that you just got done getting your brains fucked out by Joel Miller.

She probably wouldn’t even believe you if you told her, anyway.

It didn’t need to become a thing, even if it was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Sex you’d probably be having flashbacks about years down the line, just as Joel promised.

You groan inwardly, eyes drifting upward to casually scan the backyard. You caught a familiar pair already staring at you from across the way, and your whole body bloomed with aching heat once more.

Those brown eyes were accompanied with a sickening smirk, and two seconds later, a wink.

You knew no matter how hard you tried, and as much as you fucking despised him, it wouldn’t be easy to get him out of your head.

You were so fucked, you think.

The idea of admitting that you maybe didn’t hate him was unwarranted, but you knew deep down it was your reality. You really didn’t hate him.

And maybe, just maybe, these parties weren’t so bad after all.

tags: @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @punkshort @endlessthxxghts

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #actor!joel #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #fic: the hills

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samkerrworshipper · 6 months

Note

After seeing the pics of alexia at the Barça basketball game could you do one where she is finally playing the wag role for reader? Just overall enjoying being readers number one fan

on the sidelines

alexia putellas x reader

just a lil fluffy blurb that i wrote in half an hour… defo no proof read or spell checked so sorry in advance xo

desperately working on getting some more reqs out for y’all but i’m so overhauled with coursework that it��s taking me way longer so sorry if your request gets ignored as of rn mid terms are killing me ☠️

“A triple double, Y/n, one incredible feat, how do you feel knowing that your team is through to the play offs?”

You were buzzing, still coming down from the endorphin high as you tried to focus on the reporter who had been the first to attack you as soon as you’d finished shaking hands with your opponents, not even giving you the opportunity to leave the court.

“Every game is a team game, I’m obviously wrapped, but half of that wouldn’t have happened without my teammates. I’m obviously elated that we’re through to finals, the job starts now for us, everything we’ve worked for this season falls down to the next few weeks so we work hard, it’s not over until the final siren.”

The reporter smiled at you and you gave your signature smile back to the camera, trying to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

“The modesty is appreciated, but how did you feel about coming second in the league MVP poll earlier in the week?”

You bit down on your lap, it was a rude question, but you had been prepared for it.

“Obviously I would have loved to come home with the trophy, but it wasn’t meant to be. I have so much respect for Stewie and she deserved the award just as much as anybody else who we were contending against. Honestly, I couldn’t give two shits about individual awards, what matters to me is this playoffs series and maybe I can bring that trophy home instead.”

You smiled once again at the reporter and camera, slowly becoming more uncomfortable with the conversation the longer it went on.

“Now, we all have some questions about the trip down under you took a few weeks ago, any particular reason you decided to go home?”

You began to haphazardly fiddle with the microphone in your hands, willing for this interview to conclude so you could just enjoy your win.

“I missed home, the few days that I spent their were really nice and the team can tell you that since then I have been in much better spirits, sometimes you just need a reset and it was just really good timing that we had the two week break.”

The reporter smirked at you and you could feel the underlying question under her smirk.

“So nothing to do with your visit aligning with the World Cup final and one particular Spanish player who’s here tonight, sporting your number?”

You felt your face flush a little bit at the unforgiving blatancy of the reporter, very quickly trying to remember everything they’d taught you about avoiding questions in media training.

“A good friend of mine, Sam, extended the invitation and gave me some tickets to the finals games so how could I refuse? I mean the sheer pride for the Tillies that I held watching them progress was insane, nothing better than seeing women's sport be elevated at home.”

You could tell the reporter was nagging for you to answer the part of her question that you were ignoring.

“So just a coincidence then that you happened to spend a few days in Barcelona on a layover before returning back to New York?”

You bit the inside of the cheek, this wasn’t what you’d been expecting after winning one of the biggest games in your career.

“Are you implying something, Jackie?”

Your eyebrows rose in mock sarcasm, trying to laugh off the situation and make the reporter understand the message that this wasn’t something you wanted to talk about.

“Simply wondering whether you had anything to do with the presence of Alexia Putellas, or as we all know her, La Reina at tonight's game, and if she happened to be the person you were looking up at tonight everytime you scored?”

You shivered at the mention of her name.

“Alexia and I are good friends, and I will leave it at that.”

You smiled at the camera, enough of a smile that it was genuine but not enough to lead anybody on, because that wasn’t what you wanted to do, you wanted to leave them hanging.

“Good friends that wear each other's jerseys to each other's matches?”

You smirked at the camera, the annoyance of this situation slowly getting to you more and more.

“Good friends that just don’t pack enough of their own clothes when they visit.”

Your voice was dismissive, enough to tell the reporter that you weren’t interested in broaching the topic any further if she wanted to continue to have a conversation with you.

“So, quite the comeback you’ve made in the past 48 months, double back surgery is certainly an impressive feat, how has it felt returning to the court this season and competing at the same level that you were before your injury, especially after how the injury resulted in you sitting out the bronze medal olympic match?”

You could feel the sweat across your body starting to go cold, a true sign that you’d been talking for far to long.

“I’m obviously feeling great, better than ever really. Sitting out at the Olympics was devastating, obviously but I promised that I’d be back and here I am, I’m still working on my recovery, but hopefully by the time the olympics roll around next year I’ll be back fully and bringing home some hardware.”

The reporter laughed heartily at your weak joke, an action that made you a little woozy.

“I’m sorry but that’s all the questions I’ll be answering, my coach is getting rather antsy on the sidelines and it would do me some good not to annoy her right now, so I’ll have to wish you all a goodbye, and see you later for the playoffs.”

You sent a kiss towards the camera before handing the microphone and headset back to the filming crew before following your coach over to the sideline and then into the tunnel towards your change rooms. Sandy patted you on the back as you made your way back to the rooms, just consciously quickening your steps a little bit so you could make the distance as quickly as possible.

You’d never liked limelight, or any of the media attention. You’d started out playing country basketball with your siblings, out on the court all throughout the middle of summer. Eventually, after joining a club and playing some juniors you got picked up by the Perth team and then had worked your way upwards, but never had you played for the attention or glory, growing up, womens basketball in Australia was severely underappreciated, so you’d never had to really face any media attention. But the WNBA was a whole different ballpark and you were still adjusting after 6 seasons to the amount of ways you were now exposed to the general public.

Your whole body relaxed when you spotted Alexia standing beside the locker room door, hand in her phone, flicking furiously through it. You ran directly towards her, almost bowling her over with your strong strides.

She wrapped her arms around you almost immediately, allowing your to bury your head in her neck as you breathed in the scent of her, and the scent of one of your spare jerseys sitting comfortable across her muscley arms and chest. It was a sight for sore eyes, one that you’d been waiting far to long to see.

“I fucking hate reporters.”

Alexia snorted at you, it wasn’t often that she got to see you after games, both of you having extremely busy schedules that hardly allowed for time to go and watch each other mess around with a ball on a pitch or court for an hour.

“I know bebita, but you did so well.”

She concluded her statement in the very best way possible, plastering a series of kisses all over your face that made you giddy on the inside and had you pushing her off of you. The tunnel was a fairly safe place from reporters, but you could never be too sure who was creeping around and a part of you didn’t need your relationship being revealed right at this moment.

Something about having your number across Alexia’s chest set a fire in your soul and you stepped back from her embrace to take it in, to take in the sight of her standing in front fo you, her perfect shoulders on show, sitting comfortable beside the jersey. A few of her back tattoos peaking out from her shoulders giving you a indescribable view of the ink. Her collection was constantly growing and you swore every time she returned to you there was a new one for her to show you and tell you the story of.

She had paired the jersey with a plain pair of white jeans and her washed out pink hair was sitting comfortably on her shoulders, the strands being pushed out of her face by the Prada sunglasses sitting comfortably on her head, sunglasses you were certain had absolutely zero purpose besides being an accessory. You did have to admit that the pink had been your favourite hair in a long while, in fact you’d been the one who Alexia had convinced to help with the dye when she had one of her midnight crisis’ that had you marching down to the chemist to buy neon pink hair dye to make your girlfriend happy.

“I like it when you’re the wag.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, spinning around to give you a look at your brandished last name, sitting perfectly between the valley of skin that travelled between her shoulder blades, everything about it was so perfect to you, warming your soul from the inside.

“I do have to admit, it was quite fun sitting in the crowd for once and pretending I knew what was happening.”

You chuckled, you’d been trying your very hardest to teach Alexia the rules of your sport from the start of your relationship, and to her credit she had a grasp on the more basic rules, but she was absolutely shocking at much more than that. She watched every single one of your games, and yet she had absolutely zero grasp on how the sport of basketball actually worked.

“Look at that, La Reina admitting that she enjoyed being a wag.”

Alexia rolled her eyes at you, her hand coming to rest on your sweaty arm, providing some pressure to your forearm.

“Don’t you even think about telling any of the Barca girls, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You smiled down at Alexia’s hand, loving the way that her body slotted in so perfectly with you, she knew your body like the back of her own hand and knew exactly what parts of you she should touch in different situations.

“Don’t you worry your little head, this will be our little secret, at least until the girls find my post game interview.”

Alexia nodded concedingly, it was inevitable that your relationship was eventually going to come out to the public, neither of you were particularly stressed about it, it would happen when it happened. You’d gone three years without anybody catching on, only now heading into the fourth year were people really starting to recognise the relationship.

“Go shower, you stink.”

You let Alexia push you towards the locker room door, her face nose scrunching up in faux disgust at you.

“Yes ma’am, La Reina, ma’am.”

The older woman once again rolled her eyes at you, but couldn’t avoid your own hand reached out to hers, silently tugging her into the locker rooms with you. It wasn’t irregular for teammates partners to end up in the rooms after games, and you knew that Alexia would just end up waiting alone in the hallway for you whilst you went about your post game routine.

You lead her towards your cubby, seating her down on the bench before reaching down behind her and pulling out the few items of clothing and toiletries you needed for the shower. One quick look down at Ale revealed to you just how in awe she was of what was occurring around her. There was nothing special happening, most teammates doing similar things to you and beginning their post game rituals.

“Mi amor, I’m going to the shower now, just stay here, bien, and don’t hesitate to ask anybody for something if you need it, si?”

Alexia nodded at you aimlessly, her eyes darting around the room as she took in her surroundings, You took the opportunity to dip out of the room and into the showers, hastening your normal routine so you could return to her as quickly as possible.

You showered in record time, washing your hair and body so quickly you were certain you almost got whiplash from the jolting of your arms and muscles in every direction and you frantically moved around in the shower.

When you returned to Alexia she was in the same spot as you’d left her, her eyes still searching the room and taking in everything happened around her. It was cute to see her so out of place, it was something you’d never seen on her before and something about seeing her like a deer in the headlights made you fall so much further in love with her.

“Cãrino? Let’s go, yeah?”

Alexia’s eyes flashed up to meet your own, her lips falling to a genuine smile as she stood up from your cubby, and before you could pick up your bag she took the honours, collecting the things that you knew you’d need back at the apartment and piling them into your bag before sliding it over her shoulder and starting to walk out, her arm falling comfortably over you shoulder as the two of you met each others pace, walking out towards your car that Alexia had driven you to the game in.

She took care in placing your bag in the boot before sliding into the driver's seat, your keys clanking in the ignition as she started the car.

Almost as soon as she was pulling out of the stadium Alexia’s hand fell to your thigh, a comfortable reminder of the footballers presence.

“You played so well today bebita, I was so proud of you.”

You smiled waterily at Alexia, it was one thing for a reporter to tell you, but for the woman you loved most in the world to tell you that meant something else.

“Thank you, but don’t act like you knew what was going on.”

Alexia cocked her head to the side, frowning at you a little bit.

“Si, maybe, but you got the, what did they call it again? El triple doble, no? Marta said it’s kind of like a hat trick but in basketball lingo, you sunk muchos tres.”

You smiled at Alexia, nodding your head at the Spaniards lack of knowledge over the game you cared for so much, and her attempt at trying to talk basketball to you.

“Yes, I did score a few threes, all of them were for a special person who came out to watch me today.”

Alexia smiled at you, turning her head at the lights to look at you.

“Mm, who might that be?”

You bit your lip, breaking out in a big smile.

“She’s Spanish, and not very good at understanding basketball but she tries and that’s all that matters, she also looks really cute in teal.”

Alexia’s smile only grew at your admission.

“Oh, and she’s a pretty good wag if I do say so myself.”

Alexia silenced your words with a sweet kiss, pressing her lips to yours softly, the two of you having to break apart when the light turned green.

“I’d watch you any day.”

Alexia’s words were murmured quietly, an almost silent acknowledgment of her feelings that was meant just for you.

“I’d watch you any day as well mi amor.”

#woso #woso community #alexia putellas is mom #daddy alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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shawtuzi · 2 years

Note

Can you do something where plug!eren is fresh out of jail and is absolutely feral for his gf cause he hasn’t seen her in so long. Love u and ur writing :).

oh my god yes i most definitely can!!!! and thank u sm i love u more *kiss kiss*

this is 18+////cw include: black coded reader, unprotected sex, creampie, some mushy stuff at the end i couldn’t resist///wc: 1.5k+

let’s say eren did get busted and this is no beuno at all because everybody know most states be tripping over a simple weed charge. and unfortunately for this simple weed charge eren got sentenced three. fucking. years. to say it broke you was an understatement and what broke you even more is that eren didn’t expect you to wait on him. but you did of course because that is your man, your life, your cinnamon apple and he is worth waiting for.

eren stayed on his best behavior hoping to get out early for any reason they’d let him if he was the “model prisoner” and it paid off. eight months later a guard came up to eren and told him to get his affairs in order because he’d be leaving the next day. when eren told you the good news you couldn’t help but bust into tears. it was an extremely lonely eight months without him, yes your friends were around and kept you company but after spending months practically joined at the hip with eren it was very hard to adjust without him around :((

you showed up at the prison at exactly twelve sharp like eren instructed and five minutes later you finally saw him in all his glory. “eren!” you squealed running into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. “hi baby,” eren sighed dreamily nuzzling his face into your hair, the familiar smell of your coconut scented shampoo nearly bringing him to tears. “‘missed you so fuckin’ much jesus christ i’ll never leave you like that again i promise y/n,” he muttered squeezing your smaller form closer into his body. you couldn’t even speak afraid your voice will crack due to the happy tears streaming down your face. “missed you too eren it was so lonely without you,” you whimpered burying your face in his chest.

the two of you stayed like that for a good ten minutes, just embracing each other and whispering sweet nothings to calm the other down until you finally pulled away taking in eren’s figure. he’d gotten extremely fit, the white t-shirt he’d worn going in prison now nearly bursting at the seams from how swole his biceps had gotten. “you look good,” you trailed your finger down his arm making him give you his award winning smirk.

“yeah? how good?”

those three words were how you both ended up on the side of the rode, eren dragging you to the backseat so he could finally have his way with you after eight grueling months. “e-eren it’s only about twenty minutes till we’re…home,” your voice trailed off towards the end once you felt his lips on your neck. eren shook his head now yanking down your tank top to expose your breasts, “fuck no i waited eight months for this i’m not waiting a second longer, now lift up a sec so i can take these off” he rasped tugging at the waistband of your shorts. you immediately lifted your hips up bringing a loving smile to eren’s face, “still such a good listener huh? trained you real well didn’t i” he chuckled before pressing sloppy kisses all over your tits while also yanking your shorts off.

“yeah just for you eren all for you,” you whined tangling your fingers in his hair which was now slightly longer. “m’skipping the foreplay jus’ wanna fuck you right now,” he yanked down his sweats letting his dick spring free of its confinements. he was a lot bigger than you remembered. eren pressed a soft kiss to your cheek after seeing the slight fear in your eyes, “it’s okay i’ll be right here to take care of you when we’re done and if it really hurts too much just lemme know okay?” the softness in his tone had you feeling more relaxed already especially after hearing ‘i’ll be right here to take care of you.”

you were so lost in thought that he actually here in front of you you forgot to give him the ‘okay’ to continue. “y/n? you okay baby? do you want to stop?” eren was about to lift you off his lap but you quickly snapped back to reality (oh there goes gravity) shaking your head that you in fact didn’t want to stop. “no! no it’s okay i’m fine i’m just really happy to see you is all,” you smiled giving his lips one, two, three kisses before pulling your panties to the side, “now please fuck me….been waiting eight months for you rennie.” eren mumbled a quick “goddamn y/n” before rubbing his tip between your slicked folds before slowly pushing it in the both of you gasping in unison.

“s-shit okay i’m gonna go slow- fuck i don’t wanna cum too fast,” eren shuddered at the feeling of how warm you are, internally cursing at himself for already being at the brink of cumming. you brought your hands to his cheeks rubbing slow circles on them with your thumbs, “s’okay babe we have all the time in the world now, well kinda what we’re doing is pretty illegal and we should hur- oh shit!” you cried feeling all of eren’s dick enter you at once.

eren dug his fingers into your hips so hard you felt the bruises already forming but you didn’t care—what’s a couple bruises when you have the love of your life back in your arms? “goddamn y/n have you always been so tight?” eren grunted now moving you up and down at a steady pace, “and i don’t give a fuck about none of that that’s what we got tinted windows for,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his words knowing if it wasn’t so deserted where you were now you would’ve made him wait patiently. but it was so you could quite honestly care less about anything besides the man in front of you.

“eren,” you whimpered wrapping your arms around his neck. “i know baby i know i’m here just lemme make you feel good—that’s it there you go take this fucking dick,” he grunted taking one of your nipples into his mouth. eren began to grow impatient taking it upon himself to begin bucking his hips up, the tip of his dick now kissing your cervix in the most delicious way possible. your moans were like music to eren’s ears, each sharp gasp and little whimper you let out only fueling him to go harder and faster. “fuck fuck fuck i’m cumming s-shit,” eren growled slamming you down one last time before spurts of his warm cum began to fill your needy pussy.

you had never felt more comfortable and happy than you were now fucked out and stuffed with eren’s cum, “‘feels good…missed the way your cum feels in me ren” you sighed dreamily burying your face in his neck. “mhm ‘n i missed the way your pussy squeezes me so good, now i want us to cum together this time—think you can do that for me ma?” he ran his fingers gently up and down your back making shivers creep down your spine. you nodded quickly beginning to grind you hips slowly in his lap, the mixture of your wetness and his cum slowly trailing it’s way down his thighs and into the car seat.

“feel so damn good-shit i promise i’ll never leave you like that again y/n i swear. fuck i’ll stop dealing, get a job at the auto body shop connie told me about, get us a bigger ‘n better house and we can start a family yeah? give you a couple of my babies?” eren was completely fucked out babbling whatever came to his mind and he meant every single word. he didn’t care that he wouldn’t be making as much money all that mattered was you and you only. he didn’t care that he was only 23 talking about starting a family because he knew one day he would make you a mother to as many kids as you wanted.

a dopey smile made its way onto your face but you didn’t have time to savor the sweet moment your brain turning to mush when you felt eren’s thumb on your clit. “f-fuck eren yes that’s all i want with you please don’t stop!” eren didn’t plan on stopping either. he planted his feet more firmly before fucking into you with everything he had, “so fuckin’ wet” he muttered to himself, his head lolling back in pleasure. a few more harsh thrusts and soon you and eren were cumming at the same time, eren letting out the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard. “shit—c’mere lemme hold you for a minute….missed being together like this,” eren wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close.

you rested your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart making it hard for you to keep your eyes open. “did you really mean what you said earlier, you know about getting a job at the shop and a new house and the other stuff?” your voice was strained and whisper like but eren caught every word. “and by other stuff you mean starting a family? yeah i did, i meant every damn word too,” eren chuckled pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you cool with being the mother to my devil spawn?” he giggled giving your ass a playful slap.

“i’d be more than happy to eren <333”

#want him <\3 need him </3 #eren <3 #plug!eren #my writing #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan imagine #aot imagines #snk eren

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

nba player! connie and model! reader eye fucking each other on the court, then really fucking each other after the game 🤭

omg new hyperfixation just dropped!! 🥴🥴 I got you!

cw: black fem reader (thick descriptors)hotel/balcony sex, implied oral, backshots, squirting, cumshot

Connie Springer: it was a name that was practically inescapable nowadays. Whether it was for his impeccable skills and stats on the court or his devilishly handsome looks off of it. The NBA’s hottest new rising star; a generational talent that had captured the attention of many, including (y/n) (l/n), who had become somewhat of a prominent figure in the fashion and modeling world over the past few years.

A woman who was as bodacious as you were beautiful, turned heads with every room you walked in. Like a goddess traipsing amongst men..you were an absolute vision of perfection. The same sentiment was mirrored when you stepped foot into the arena for the playoffs game tonight. Telfar in hand, Giuseppe heels on your feet and a Marine Serre bodysuit that practically clung to your curvaceous figure. Sitting court side as many other infamous celebs had done before, (y/n) observed the activities up and down the court, watching the players run drills and get prepared before the game began..even occasionally stealing glances at the camera. It was while you were doing so that you’d catch the attention of number 21, the fine ass point guard with the butter pecan complexion, two sleeves of tattoos trailing down his arms and diamond earrings reminiscent of early Iverson’s. What you wouldn’t give to have something like that on your own roster..but you weren’t alone in your dirty little train of thought. The way that ass was moving when you walked by? He damn near lost all focus and control. Admittedly, he had seen you on Instagram and Twitter a couple times, wanting to hop in your DM’s but figured they’d probably go unanswered as you probably had a laundry list of men chomping at the bit to get with you..still, it wouldn’t stop him from shooting his shot in person!..no pun intended. So the game would kickoff as any other had in the past. Connie is to no one’s surprise, stealing the spotlight like he owns it. Playing his ass off, doing all of his award winning antics and scoring mad points for his team. Everyone was so impressed and (y/n) was no exception..the entire time though? His attention was on you…stealing glances at one another through sultry glares. You couldn’t help but ogle that sweat sheened body and he couldn’t help but do the same. When it came time for intermission, you tried your hardest to look inconspicuous but when he sat down, towel draped around his neck as he squeezed that water bottle and let the fluid squirt into his open mouth..you had to clutch your thighs together immediately! You had never felt something like this…it didn’t help when his gaze shot towards you seconds after. It was getting more than obvious that the two of you had your own side game going on outside of the one taking place. Fluttering those big fluffy lashes..(y/n) kept a keen eye on him for the second half, even tossing him a wink or two when he made a basket. Just for that, he had to flex a little bit! Springer was playing like someone had lit a fire underneath him, pulling out every stop he thought would impress the one he had his sights set on. Up and down the court, tossing free throws as if it were child’s play..shooting you a very confident smirk each time he did so. Tucking your lip between your teeth, your deep set eyes fixated on him until the end of the game. If he didn’t come over and say something, you’d surely be making your way in his direction to break the ice. Little did you know a simple hello and some constant eye contact would be the start of a very interesting night.

it would only take a few hours and five shots of Hennessy at an after party for you to find the courage you needed to turn that subtle silent flirting into a fury of passion. “I’m Connie. I seen you out there…thought I’d come see what was up wit’ you.” And the second he did so, it was lust at first sight. So it came as no surprise when he invited you up to his room, sat you on his bed and started spitting game, that your clothes would wind up twisted in a pile on the ground, shoes discarded at the door and you two fucking like animals on the fourth floor balcony of the DoubleTree hotel. It wasn’t something you’d normally done. An esteemed model hooking up with a star baller in some illustrious one might stand? Oh, the tabloids would be going crazy off of this. But for now, he’d just keep you bent over; leg hoisted over that railing as his balls slapped vehemently against your clit. His tattooed hand cradling your throat with a vice grip as your tongue dangled from your mouth. “Ooh fuck!…this dick feels so good..” crying out into the night air as this man…this complete and total stranger outside of his namesake brought you to yet another climax. “Ah…damn baby, I ain’t never had a squirter before..this pussy some pressure..shit.” Having started this steamy little affair in between the sheets where he looked you dead in your eyes, chain dangling above your forehead as he fucked you slowly. A hand on the headboard and your thick, trembling legs laid across his shoulders. Creaming and making an absolute mess of his cock…shortly after finding yourself riding him atop the suede carpet so that you could keep your balance and bounce on his dick the way you really wanted to. In a way that would have him flying you out to every city he played in. To now being hit from the back atop a balcony for potential passerby’s to see. However, his only focus was you and vice versa. Turning to look back at him, you’d flick your tongue and grin. “That’s because you’ve never fucked somebody like me…” and after this? he didn’t think he could ever mess with anyone else the same.

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captainpulisic · 9 months

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said im fine but it wasnt true - m. mount

hearing cruel summer live changes you as a person. wc: 3.3k gif creds to owner

it had meant to be a summer fling, nothing more. from the very beginning, it was mutually decided upon that it was just two good friends hooking up- something none of your other friends would ever find out about. it wasn’t anything serious, so why involve other people?

that’s what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

you had been positive you could keep the sex as meaningless and detached as possible. you thought it’d be enough to have mason when he’d give himself to you and not a minute more. who cared that your heart beat embarrassingly fast when you’d catch his stare during a night out with friends, knowing you’d certainly be leaving with him. that most nights, after a long fuck, he’d practically beg you to stay the night, not wanting to sleep without you. it wasn’t of any importance that this situationship- if that’s what it could be called- had you constantly questioning the line between ‘just sex’ and the outline of a real relationship. I mean, how many mornings can you wake up to him peppering your face with kisses and shy smiles before you could consider him more than just a fuck buddy?

it was all so confusing for your heart and you brain. did you want more? did he? and why did the idea of the answers being ‘yes’ make you weak at the knees? wasn’t this the exact thing you both agreed couldn’t happen, the one rule you had made?

you were screwed.

yet, every doubt and worry you had over your predicament would temporarily vanish when you’d tap on his door. he’d greet you with a shy smile and a soft glint in his eyes. it was all too soft. as soon as you stepped foot inside, his fingers were everywhere. on your cheeks, your jaw, and down your shoulders. they’d end up traveling up and down your sides until they settled on your waist. quickly, his body would be pressed up against yours, a hot mouth marking up the side of your neck.

he was everywhere. you felt him everywhere. the way he was on you, it was as if he couldn’t bear the idea of having you in proximity and not be touching you. and there were no complaints on your part.

he continued to kiss you, messily and heatedly. and you kissed him back until you were both repeating each other's name, as if they were sacred prayers. like usual, there was a messy, abandoned trail of clothes left in the hallway. and just like usual, it led to masons bedroom where you could be found laid together in bed. blissfully, spent and content.

as he left soft kisses on your collarbone and jaw, he continued to whisper how lovely you were. he’d talk nonsense about how these were the best ways to spend his nights, that there's nowhere he’d rather be.

boy, did that make your heart do somersaults. you’re sure your face was crimson as he continued the soft praises.

it’s just sex.

all you could do to save face was scoff, “calm down, it’s just sex.”

yes, you reaffirmed yourself. you both begin to get up, ready to go find where you had thrown your shirts not so long ago. if I keep saying it, maybe i'll even end up believing it.

“no it’s not,” mason deadpans. he pauses all movement and for some reason, you feel obligated to mirror his actions. this is it, you feel yourself buzz with anticipation. he’ll say it’s not just sex for him, either. you want to look at him straight on, ready to tell him you’ve been feeling the same way for awhile. and with the way his eyes won’t leave yours, you can practically hear the words wanting to leave his mouth. you’re tempted to just kiss him and let that show him you’ve been aching for more than just these secret hookups. suddenly the corner of his lip turns upward, “it’s award winning sex.”

oh.

it was at that moment you realized it was in fact not just sex. not for you, at least.

and the next moment is when you realized you couldn’t keep up this little game, anymore. a part of you knew you could continue giving yourself to mason whenever he called, only taking what he’d let you have. you’d settle for it because having some of him in the dark hours would be better than nothing at all. and when you realized how pathetic that sounded, you knew what you had to do. there had to be some self respect.

this all had happened two weeks ago. that next morning, you had swatted away masons roaming hands and dodged the kisses he was trying to leave along your face. you mumbled some half hearted excuses about your unusual rush to leave and avoided his sad stare as you hastily dressed yourself. when you got his usual text the following night, begging you to come over, you figured it was as best time as any to rip off the band aid. it was a simple, short text saying these late night reach outs and quick fucks weren’t what you wanted anymore.

i hope you can understand where i’m coming from, you had typed. lets go back to just being friends, yeah?

you felt ill as soon as you hit send.

you felt even worse when he spent two whole minutes typing, just for the bubble to disappear and not a single reply come back. the following days were radio silence on his part. you hadn’t known this absence would make you feel as lonely and as sad as you were.

this is what has led you to your current crisis. getting shitfaced in some downtown pub, drinking until you can forget who has you there. staring at the third empty glass in front of you, your mind swirled with bittersweet memories of mason.

“we just don’t get it,” one of your friends frowned at you. you’re sure she means well but it’s hard to care too much when you can’t even recall her name at the moment. looking at the group of friends who’d practically forced you out of your bed and to come out, their eyes were full of concern and sympathy. “you never even told us you were seeing someone.”

“I-”, you begin but instantly stop. your words are starting to get all jumbled up in your mouth and the world around you is slowing down. it takes you a moment to breathe and organize your thoughts.

where’s mason?

all you want is mason.

why isn’t he here?

why didn’t he want you the way you wanted him?

another friend prods, “was it that serious?”

you felt the tears welling up in your eyes. all you could do is give a slight shake to your head. you try to smile but you’re sure you’ll start crying if you force it.

no, you kept thinking. I loved him and wanted him but all he wanted was sex. it was anything but serious.

there was only one way to get this idiotic brain to shut up. reaching out to chug the remainder of your drink, your frown gets deeper when you remember the cup is empty. standing up from the too crowded table, you let out a slurred, “‘m just gonna get one more.”

yet,as soon as you rise, your legs feel less sturdy than usual and the room has a slight haze to it. another concerned friend holds out their arm for support, worry growing more evident on her face.

“are you sure?” she sighs. lightly tugging on your arm, she tries to guide you to sit back down. “you’ve had enough, no?”

“no,” you practically whine. this is the only way to get your mind off of mason and these people have the audacity to deny you it. still standing, you try to get free of her grasp and tug towards the direction of the bar. it’s half cry and half whisper, “just one more.”

“maybe we should get you home?” another friend, wearing an even more sympathetic expression (if possible) chimes in. “lets call it a night, yeah?”

“no!” you protest, once again. “you guys don’t have to cut your night short because of me.”

the table erupts with their assurance of them not minding and that they’ll gladly drop everything to take you home. you know they mean well but it just adds even more guilt and weight to your heavy heart.

“I mean it,” you straighten yourself up as much as you can. you offer a small smile and wave them off. pulling out your phone, you’re able to somewhat make out the apps icons. cluelessly swiping at your phone, “i’ll order an uber and you guys can stay.”

it takes a few more minutes of convincing and protest, but nonetheless, they oblige to your request. after hugs and promises that you’ll soon get over your mystery man, two of them help you stumble outside and wait for your ride.

when your assigned car arrives and your friends triple check that the license plate is a match, final hugs and words of consolation are given. once in the car and speeding down the empty streets, it takes a great deal of effort not to puke and not to cry.

instead of thinking about how badly you want to spill your guts, you think of the boy whose absence feels like a dull stab at the heart. that’s what's been occupying your thoughts for the past weeks, anyway. if we’re being honest, he was the sole person in your thoughts. him and the beautiful summer you had shared together. if you closed your eyes, you could see it all so clearly.

you could recall the trip to his house like the back of your hand. you knew the paveway of trees that greet you as soon as you turn onto his street, the shiny gate blocking entryway to his house. blindfolded, you could locate the flower pot where he hid his spare keys. you’d use them almost every time you’d sneak away into his house and arms.

wait.

feeling the car park, you’re snapped out of your daydreams and look out towards the window.

it’s not that you could just recall all of those stupid details, which you’ve proven you could. it was that you were watching it all unfold outside of the car's window. you were smackdab in the middle of it, parked right in front of his house.

“hey,” you mumble in a panic. tapping on the window, towards the direction of masons house. with the fear setting in, your tears are ready to make their comeback. you feel like a child, helpless and scared. your voice wavers with a small sob, “this is not my house.”

the poor uber driver looks as confused as you. shaking his head, he surrenders his hands up. “I just brought you to the address you gave me.”

“I did not- '', you begin to argue. grabbing your phone, you squint at the screen, ready to show him how you had put your own address. and how it definitely wasn’t this one. and how he was going to have to explain what type of sick joke he was playing on you by bringing you here. yet, after a long struggle to find the fucking app, all words leave your mouth when you see masons address as the destination.

oh, force of habit.

all summer, during your little flings with mason, it had become second nature to get a lift to his house. it came more naturally to give directions to his house than to your own. it felt more like home, too.

“alright, you can leave me here.” you’re not sure if the alcohol is giving you the courage to face him or if you just really want to see his stupidly beautiful face- or if you’ve officially gone insane, but you find yourself unbuckling your seatbelt.

“ma’am are you sure?” the driver's gaze shifts between you and the enormous house looming over you both. you’re sure you must look insane with your tear filled eyes and inebriated state. you went from being terrified of where you were to shaking with anticipation. he offers a small smile, unsure how to proceed. “I can take you somewhere else if this was an error, I could go back to where I picked you up.”

“no,” you interject. “it’s fine, i’m fine, thank you.”

“really, it’s no problem-”

you wave him off, trying to appear as sober as you could possibly seem. opening the car door, “I was just confused. this is my friends house, silly me to not recognize it.”

he eyes you suspiciously but nevertheless nods as you get off. you try your best not to to wobble as you wave goodbye and walk away. but it’s not until you make your way through the familiar garden gate that you see the headlights pull off.

with that, you’re left standing alone in front of masons house. theres a small ache in your chest as you see the entire house is dark, not one ray of light peeking through any window.

what if he's not even home?

what if he's the one sneaking into someone else's house now?

you feel like you're going to throw up all over again. and it’s not because of the three vodka cokes you’d had.

that's it. you have to get into the house and find him and tell him…well, you don’t know what yet, but you have to say something.

the sensible you would figure that knocking or even calling him would be the best way to go, but clearly you’re not the most sensible person tonight.

standing in the middle of the garden, you take a breath and yell his name to the endless mirage of windows. within a minute, a light turns on and a window on the second floor shimmies open. it’s dark and far but you can slightly make out masons confused face.

“y/n?” you could see him squint down at you. “is that you-”

“I know this doesn’t make sense and what we had is over but for whatever it’s worth,” you cut him off, your mouth moving at its own volition. you pause, unable to believe that you’re finally going to say it. you have to choke down a sob before you scream, “i’m in love with you.”

you can see mason freeze. it's barely a shout when he says, “what?”

did he really not hear you or does he just like torturing you now?

“I love you, idiot.” you shout, again. there it is. all your emotions and feelings laid out in front of him. there's no use in trying to stop the tears so you just let them stream down your flushed face. once more, “i’m so in love with you and maybe that’s the worst thing, or the last thing, you wanna hear from me but it’s true.”

it all happens so fast. if you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it. the window mason was leaning out of, was left deserted without him saying anything back to you. you’re stood frozen, unsure of what to do. was your confession so horrible that he retreated back to his room, waiting for you to get the hint and leave? as you debate this, the side door, leading to the garden where you stand, bursts open.

he’s breathless, and an image of him running down the stairs flashes in your mind.

in just a few, short steps, he’s standing directly in front of you. his eyes are wide, slightly crazed. he hesitates as he merely whispers, “what did you say?”

“I love you and you don’t even care.” looking up at him, you try to blink away the tears. you’re sure you look a blubbering mess, and embarrassingly enough, there might be some snot. “you don’t care but it doesn’t matter. I needed to tell you that i’m so stupidly in love with you and you don’t even care. ”

“I do care.” his hands reach to hold your face but you swat them away.

“you don’t,” you begin to take a step back. what are you even doing? was this a love confession or a chance to tell him off? maybe, a bit of both? it’s just too confusing. pointing an accusatory finger at him, “if you cared, you’d have had the decency to reach out.”

he tries to interject but you just keep going. crying harder than before, “when our little hookups ended, a part of me hoped it would make you realize that you couldn’t bear the thought of not being together. that you would come back to me and tell me it all meant more to you. why didn’t you come back to me? why didn’t I deserve a fucking text back? it might’ve been just sex for you, but to me it meant everything.”

“that’s what you think?” mason scoffs, which only infuriates you more. it’s not until you really look at him that you see the same tears pool in his eyes. it’s when you see that he looks just as broken as you do. “I tortured my brain for days, trying to find the right words, to get you to understand that it wasn’t just sex for me.”

you squint your eyes at him, causing him to sigh. he continues, “okay, maybe I thought it was at first but then I read your text and it nearly broke me. at first, I thought I was just embarrassed that I got dumped over text but then I realized I was miserable at the thought of not having you anymore.”

you let out a defeated sigh, “but you never texted me back.”

“y/n,” it’s a sad smile, as you finally give in and let his hands cup your face. “I’ve typed and deleted a hundred texts, telling you I love you. but what if I said the wrong things and you'd leave again? I don't think i'd survive it. I don’t think i’d survive being forever known as the idiot who let you get away.”

you want to scold yourself for the way your heart flutters, “you really love me?”

his thumbs are stroking under your eyes, wiping away any tears that’ve overstayed their welcome. he’s giving you that smile, that boyish smile you fell in love with. that bastard, he’s always known how to get you weak in the knees. he says it so softly, “i love you, yes of course I love you. i've loved you since we started whatever this is, maybe even before then. i’m sure I fell in love with you the moment we met.”

instead of answering him, you shush him by pulling him down to meet your lips. it’s a kiss filled with ‘i love you’s and ‘i'm sorry's and ‘please, stay’s. you don’t even realize when mason has taken your hand, leading you inside the house and up the staircase. yet, as he leads you to the bedroom where you spent countless summer nights, you feel utterly happy.

you continue to interrupt the kisses with, “say it again.”

and not once does mason deny you with his, “I love you.”

leaving a delicate kiss on his jaw, you whisper against his neck, “i’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

mason returns a kiss to your forehead, mirroring your lovesick smile. leaning close to your ear, “lucky for you pretty girl, i’ll never get tired of saying it.”

you loved mason, unashamedly and quite pathetically. and you’d continue to do so for the rest of your life, if he let you.

feedback is appreciated, please :)

#mason mount x you #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fic #angst? kinda? not sure if it qualifies?

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peoplesgraves · 1 year

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I really liked your Yandere thoughts about being a Model surrounded by Obsession. If it is not too much to ask, could you do one about being an Actor that is surrounded by obsession?

Some more yandere thots for y’all. This time you’re an actor who can’t escape obsession.<3

Other actors all want to do romantic scenes with you. If they ever had to do a sex scene with you they’d be so smug. Already thinking of ways to tease it in interviews and thinking of how many people will be shipping you together after it comes out. Do they watch edits and read fanfic of the two of you? It more likely then you’d think. Everyone wants to be your date on the red carpet or to be in a pr relationship that hopefully into more.

A personal assistant who has so much control over you. Who remembers every little detail, every meeting and every extra actor who looks at you just a little too long. They know exactly how you take your coffee and every single password you’ve ever had. Your beloved assistant will login to your phone and block anyone they don’t like and they’ll cancel shoot days if they think you need a break. Your assistant knows everything about you and they’ll use every little secret against you if they have too. They just want to take care of you. To make sure you know that there’s no way you’d survive without them.

Writers who write shows and movies specifically with you in mind. If you mention in a interview that you’d really like to do a horror movie next then within a few months you’ll be fielding more offers for horror movies then you could ever act in. The bench mark for a successful writer is no longer actually getting a show or movie made, it’s you agreeing to be in it.

Talk show hosts who make sure that every show has at least one segment about you. Maybe just a little update pulled from your social media or them gushing about how cute you looked doing press for your newest venture. They’d bump the creator of the world themselves if you requested to be on their show. They’d probably get so star struck though that you’d end up doing most of the hosting while they just give love sick stares your way.

Fans who sign onto any project as an extra or a grunt no matter how crappy the pay or conditions, Just for a chance to meet you. While extras are pretty harmless and will mostly just flock to you at any time they can and maybe break into your trailer to get a souvenir, it’s the grunts you really need to worry about. If they hear someone else on set talking badly about you then they’re not afraid to drop a light on their head.

A more seasoned actor who takes you under their wing. Steers you away from directors they know will take advantage of you or away from projects that will hurt your career. They’re just so helpful and protective that you can’t help but trust them. All they ask in return is for your time. When they hug you just a little too long you think it’s just because they care but honestly they have paparazzi hiding in the bushes. They’ve already been practicing what they’ll say when the pictures come out. That they were just trying to help your career by being seen with them, they didn’t realize you’d be upset. Of course you’ll forgive them because they’re just looking out for you right?

Award shows that always make sure you never leave empty handed. Who give you a special gift bag that makes all the other ones look like they came from the dollar store. You also never leave without an award. If you were to not make any new content for a year you can bet you’d still be invited to all the big shows and would win the ‘fan voted’ best actor/actress award, an award that definitely wasn’t created just for you.

You have a lot of influence when it comes to trends. If people notice you wearing a brand a lot then it’ll become super popular or if you endorse a product everyone will buy it. Companies and brands are always trying to get you to appear in their products or do ads for them because of how influential you are.

#yandere #yandere actor #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you

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severussnapemylove · 4 months

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Rewatching “Philosophers Stone” tonight and I am still mad, and will always be mad, at Dumbledore pulling a last minute reverse uno on an entire house!

What in the name of Merlin made him (and all but one of the adults ) think it was alright to let Slytherin think they’d won the House Cup, that they had the most points, their colours and pennants were up, the points were read…and then Dumbledore was like “Yeah, nah, I’m gonna award a bunch of carefully calculated points so that my favourites win instead.”

Where does he get off publicly humiliating, misleading and disappointing a hundred children like that?

What also gets me, Sev’s reaction when Dumbledore started talking again

He’s been through this before, he knows where Dumbledore’s favouritism lies, whenever it’s something between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Dumbledore will always side with the Lions. And Sev can’t do anything about it.

#Harry Potter universe #Severus snape #pro severus snape #anti dumbledore #slytherin house #slytherin #dumbledore bashing

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tvx6000 · 4 months

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☆ talk to me

genre: fluff, angst (?), hurt/comfort

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

warnings: anxiety, cussing, conflict(?), crying blah blah

wc: 1770

t-note: i don't mean to make this a trend in my posts.....but i hate this fic lollsloslso TT first and foremost it's completely not my style of wirting, capitalization and all. but I found this unfinished with a completely different storyline and though hmmm this could be worth posting. ngl the quality of writing decreases as you read i feel like :3 the end is kind rushed (?), i couldn't figure out how to resolve it. please send me any feedback you have, as well as any requests!!

You both were at an award show. Hyunjin had on this gorgeous jet black suit, decked out in YSL accessories. His hair and makeup were done special that night, the stylist spending a few extra moments on each feature, and you honestly didn’t think you'd ever been more in love with him.

You were both sitting at a small table, while the rest of the boys were socializing with other idols. You both had just been given the green light on announcing your relationship, and Hyunjin wasted no time. Probably minutes after he received the call, he went straight to twitter to post a selfie of you two,

“my muse :)”

It’d been a few weeks since then, and soon enough came your first outing as an official couple, this award show. Your anxiety was at an all time high – though when was it not – and Hyunjin had been extra attentive and sweet to you all day, your happiness and comfort being most important to him.

But soon enough, you couldn’t stop the pit of guilt laced bile forming in your stomach. This was his special night, and here you were acting like a baby. I mean, really Y/n? You couldn’t have waited till-

“Baby?”

Suddenly your mind went silent for a second, and you realized your lover was trying to bring you back.

“Your eyes look cloudy baby what’s wrong? Do you need to step out for a minute?”

The pit starts to bubble extra hard.

Trying your best to put on a smile – although it comes out a little wobbly – “Of course not! I’m fine honey, just a little jittery waiting for the awards to be announced.”

It was a decent lie, but the execution was terrible and you both knew it.

“Babe…….” He questioned with his eyebrows raised skeptically.

“I’m fine Jinnie, I promise.”

His shoulders seemed to slack a little at that last part, though you could tell he was still on edge.

“Okay….I’m gonna go get us some water, don’t hesitate to come find me if anything at all happens. I mean it.” He stated sternly

“Cross my heart hope to die” You replied with a soft smile

And as heavy as your heart was, you still couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him as he walked away.

Wow…….He’s really yours.

Soon enough, it came time for the awards. Hyunjin was back by your side, the other boys in seats right next to him. His hand holding yours as the awards were announced.

“And Fan Favorite Boy Group of the Year goes to……… JYPE’s Stray Kids!!”

You couldn’t help but break into the widest grin you’d ever smiled as the boys stood up to go accept their award.

They were so talented, and they’d worked relentlessly so this win didn’t come as a surprise to you. They deserved it.

But what did come as a surprise to you, is when Hyunjin was about to walk away, he turned, leaned down, and planted a firm kiss right on your mouth. Now in the moment, you acted natural, kissing back and smiling then waving him off. But as soon as you were certain there were no cameras on you. Your smile dropped and your heart started racing.

Oh god, what would everyone think? They’re gonna talk about how unprofessional that was, and how the boys don’t deserve that award. Fuck this is all my fault, I shouldn’t have let him kiss me. I shouldn’t be here.

And unfortunately, right as you got up to excuse yourself, you didn’t notice the boys giving their individual thank you’s, and Hyunjin watching you run off with a look of hurt, worry, and betrayal plastered on his face.

To anyone else, your thoughts sounded completely irrational, but anxiety isn’t rational. And they took over your legs before you could think about it any further.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in the bathroom. It feels like it’s been a few minutes, but as you hear several rounds of applause, and soon enough rapid frantic knocking on the door, you know you’ve been in there far too long.

“Baby? Y/n? Babe please I know you’re in there?........Baby what happened?”

Fuck. You don’t know. You’re suddenly hit with a huge wave of humiliation and guilt. You know you couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. So with two quick swipes under your eyes, you swing the door open to see your Jinnie standing there, eyes glazed over, and out of breath – did he run here?

“Oh my god Y/n you had me worried fucking sick. What happened baby? You just ran off and I-”

“I’m fine Jinnie.”

You stated as firmly as you could in the moment. You felt a sharp pain in your chest as a look of hurt flashed across his face. You walked straight past him and beelined for the door you all came through. You just wanted to get home.

You soon heard harsh footsteps behind you, you could tell he was angry. Fuck.

You soon saw Leeknow waiting by the limo, and as you approached he shot you a look of concern and confusion, almost wordlessly asking you ‘are you okay?’. You mustered up a small smile of reassurance and climbed into the limo. This was going to be the longest ride of your life.

The whole way home, Hyunjin wouldn’t even look at you. Though you were trying to exactly grab his attention, his expression stayed the same the whole ride. Nonchalant. Too nonchalant for your liking. You know you deserved it but he looks so calm, you’d think nothing would’ve happened at all. And suddenly, the dull ache in your heart became a sharp, shooting pain.

You soon made it home, rushing out the car with a hasty goodbye and jogging to your door. Not even bothering to drop anything besides your shoes at the door, you rushed upstairs to the bathroom.

There’s no way Hyunjin would wanna talk to you right now…so what should you do? Maybe if you go to bed quick enough, you can sleep this all away, as if it was a bad dream. So that’s what you begin to do.

You strip out of your bordering uncomfortable dress and take the pins out of your hair, and get into the shower.

As you let the water run over you, you began to think.

How can I apologize for this? A regular “Sorry, I love you” can’t fix this. No, Hyunjin deserves better than that. He deserves better than me. God I hope he doesn’t break up with me, I don’t know what I’d do. He’s been really quiet, and I haven’t heard anything upstairs. Oh no what if he left? What if-

You hastily finish washing and all but leap out of the shower. After haphazardly drying off and throwing on a (his) t-shirt and underwear, you quickly pad downstairs.

As you descend the stairs you notice the silence that has taken over your home. It’s almost as if you're the only one home, and that scares you.

“Jinnie?” you almost whisper into the space.

Nothing.

Your heart starts to race and you feel like crying,

“Hyunjin?” you call as you roam throughout the downstairs.

He’s not here. You start to panic, looking frantically around for your phone, and just as the first tear falls and you start to bolt upstairs, you hear the door unlocking.

You spin around, and there he is. When did he change?

As he walks in with a bag and takes off his shoes, you freeze. You don’t know if you were ready for this conversation yet.

“Hi” He mumbles as he sets everything down on the counter.

“Where were you?” You force out, the weight in your chest making it hard to speak.

“I picked up some food for dinner, since neither of us-” He stops as he looks up at you, hair pulled back so he has a clear line of sight.

“What is it? Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry.” you say with a wobbly voice

“I’m really really sorry I don’t know what my problem was earlier”

He stares at you for a long moment. Or maybe it was just for a second, you aren’t completely present.

“It’s okay baby. I was upset earlier but now I just wanna make sure you’re fed and figure out what’s wro-”

“No Jinnie I really mean it I don’t know what was wrong earlier but I swear to you it will never happen again” You said through heaving breaths- wait, heaving? When did you start crying?

“Hey hey hey baby it is fine. I promise you I’m not upset. Something was obviously wrong and I don’t blame you. At all.”

He swiftly moved toward you and wrapped you up in a hug.

“I know you get anxious sometimes, and it can cause miscommunication. But that’s why I need you to talk to me baby. Please. I know life can be a lot. Especially when my career is involved, but I need to know that you know you are my top priority always. And all I want is for you to feel happy and safe. So when I know that you don’t but you won’t let me help you, I start to feel a little helpless.”

He pauses and brings a hand to cradle the back of your head,

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and I like to say it comes naturally. Like I was born to do it. But unfortunately, I can’t read your mind. So please. Help me help you baby. Let me help you”

He presses multiple kisses to the top of your head and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. You start to sob. Heavy, achy, cries but he can make out the few words you're saying.

“I love you Jinnie I’m sorry, I’ll always tell you what’s wrong I promise” You say punctuating with a long loud sniffle.

He squeezes you, “My sweet girl….I love you so much more”

He pulls away, “Let’s eat before it gets cold”

As he begins to walk and you follow, he dramatically sighs,

“I must say though…..I gave quite the speech…can’t believe you missed it baby”

As he looks up from the food, he sees your eyes tearing up once again,

“Oh my goodness baby, I was joking I’m sorry” He says as he pulls you in for another hug

He kisses your cheek and breathes out, “What will I do with you baby?”

thank u for reading :3

#taylorthawriter #skz fluff #skz imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin stray kids

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justagalwhowrites · 5 months

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 1: Can I Buy You a Beer?

You run into someone you don't expect when out for a drink. A continuation of Halcyon, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Yes it's a Javi gif but we're gonna say he's Joel because Joel is in his 30s for this fic, OK?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.7K

AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Austin, Texas

September 30, 2022

You were going to strangle Alyssa.

It sure as hell hadn’t been your idea to go out drinking to celebrate the end of the first month of the school year. Definitely not your idea to do it at a bar that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned this decade. And it absolutely was not your idea to try to pick up a guy while out at said dingy bar.

But it apparently was Alyssa’s idea of a good time.

You sighed as you watched people go to and from the bar from your seat tucked in the corner. You tried to come up with stories for the people you could see in the dim light, like they were characters in a book you were writing. The biker in a leather vest, you decided, had been an accountant for 20 years when he bought a Harley during his midlife crisis. He’d become a mechanic when he became too obsessed with the bike to be satisfied behind a desk. His wife was pissed but his son thought he was way cooler now. The couple at the end of the bar were on a second… no, third date. She was deciding whether or not to fuck him. You thought it was going to go in his favor.

Alyssa had moved out of the seat next to the guy she’d taken up with and into his lap. You wondered if there was a world record for how far someone’s tongue could be down another person’s throat. It had to trigger her gag reflex at some point, right? Or maybe she didn’t have one. That must be nice. Maybe that was the key to being good at oral. Maybe you’d be better at it if you didn’t have a gag reflex. Maybe you’d still have a husband if you were better at oral.

You downed the last of your Shiner and rapped your fingers along the side of the glass. That was one upside to being back in Texas, at least. Shiner Bock on tap was a nice perk.

Next time you went out with Alyssa, you were driving yourself. If there was a next time.

But you’d probably cave before too long. You didn’t have many friends and you liked her. Even though this night hadn’t been much fun and getting to know her at all had been awkward at first. Alyssa was a few years younger than you and the first time she’d stumbled into your office she had your book in her hands and a wide smile on her face.

“I am so sorry if this is weird,” she said after a brief introduction. “But… I’m in love with your book and I am dying for you to sign it!”

“Sure,” you laughed a little and she passed it to you. You flipped to the title page and scrawled “Alyssa, Thanks for reading. With love, your coworker” before you penned the signature you’d practiced a million times with your agent below and handed it back. She squeaked, a little giddy, before offering to show you the best restaurants near campus. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d grown up in Austin so you had plenty of favorites without any extra help.

Still, you had this strange drive to have Alyssa see you as a normal person. Award-winning author famous was, thankfully, not the kind to get you recognized on the street but it still made you uncomfortable. Book signings and readings were exercises in misery. There was the acute agony of being observed and noted, the strange knowledge that, for these strangers, this brief encounter was going to be something they remembered. They’d remember if you had a mustard stain on your shirt or if there was lipstick on your teeth or if the stress you were under as you traveled from city to city while your marriage fell to pieces around you made you snap at someone. You never realized how keenly you valued anonymity until it wasn’t an option anymore.

The very last thing you wanted was someone who was a fan with an office two doors down from your own.

So, you’d decided to have her be a friend instead. Make it so she saw you as a person and not someone from the inside of a book jacket. The two of you had gone to lunch a few times and out for a quick drink once, too. It had been nice and, ever since, it felt like she had stopped watching you like a pseudo-celebrity and started seeing you as a friend. Or, at the very least, a friendly acquaintance.

So when she’d asked if you wanted to get some drinks tonight, you’d said yes, envisioning the lounge she’d suggested the first time you’d gone out, one with jazz music playing quietly enough that you could chat over it.

That was not where she suggested this time.

But you were already here and edging in on tipsy and if you were going to spend the night alone at a bar and, eventually, at home with your vibrator, you may as well be drunk doing it.

You made your way to the bar and ordered a tequila shot and another beer, drumming your fingers on the bar top as you waited for your drinks.

“Well hey there, beautiful,” a man who had to have at least 10 years on you sidled up next to you at the bar. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ getting your own drinks?”

“No one else was volunteering,” you gave him a tight smile. “But I’m not looking for company so…”

“Don’t tell me you’re here all by your lonesome?” He smiled a lopsided, cocky smile, looking you up and down. The accent felt a little heavy handed and the cowboy hat put it over the top. You wondered, idly, if he was hiding a bald spot under there.

“I prefer flying solo, but thank you,” you said, peering around him to watch the bartender flirt with a girl who looked like she was newly 21 and probably here slumming it at this bar that was far from the school. You sighed and settled in to wait even longer for your drinks.

“Girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be all on her own,” he said, leaning against the bar and blocking your view. “No way someone hasn’t snapped you up yet, a face like that…”

“Oh my face has nothing to do with it,” you smiled, forcing your eyes to go wide enough that you looked a little crazed. “It’s because I’m a murderous sociopath with six bodies buried beneath my house.”

The man just blinked at you, a puzzled look on his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head and you considered, for a moment, timing him to see how long it would take to piece it together.

“She’s right you know,” a familiar voice from behind you made you stiffen. “There's a reason she's here alone. This one’s insane, she’d chew you up and spit you out, man. Best you find someone else to try n’take home.”

“Sorry, man,” he said. “Didn’t know she was spoken for.”

You watched the man shove himself back from the bar and prowl off to find another woman to try and bed before turning, slowly, to the man standing at your back. Your heart beat picked up in spite of yourself when you saw him, as tall and broad and somehow even more handsome than ever.

Joel Miller smiled, one of his cocky, lopsided smiles that made his cheek dimple.

“Hey, Goldie.”

***

It was you.

Here, in this shitty bar in his corner of Austin on a Friday night was you.

Joel froze when he saw you, sitting in a corner by yourself, watching the bar with a far away look on your face.

It was a look he knew intimately, even though it had been 11 years since he’d last seen your face in person. You’d get that look when you were thinking about something important, something you wanted to remember. You’d have that look and then you’d open up that gold notebook of yours and write furiously for a minute or two before stashing it away.

“You ever gonna let me read any of that?” He’d teased one day as you sat, curled up in the corner of his couch, your notebook on your knees.

“No,” you scoffed. “Trust me, you don’t want anywhere near this disaster area. It’s basically just the word vomit version of my brain, it’s a mess up there.”

Joel didn’t push you on it but, truthfully, he’d have killed for a chance to see inside your mind for a moment. He wanted to crawl inside your skull and look at whatever you’d let him see. He wanted to memorize you, carry you with him, wrap himself up in you at every opportunity. You felt like home, more than anything else he’d ever had. Of course he wanted to be close enough to you to see inside your mind.

But that was a long time ago. Yes, it had been 11 years since he’d seen you but it had been even longer since he’d seen you when you weren’t pissed at him. In fairness, he was pretty pissed at you, too, but you’d started it.

And he wasn’t even sure why. He didn’t know what set you off to begin with. One night it was prom and the next thing he knew, you were gone. Taking off across the country before graduation without so much as a goodbye. You changed your number and your mom wouldn’t give it to him and you were just gone. Like the two of you hadn’t spent every day together for the last three years, like he had all meant nothing at all to you.

Joel saved up the money to buy a bus ticket to your fancy fucking college, intending to find you there and demand an explanation, but that hadn’t gone as planned. He just settled into not knowing and not understanding why the most important relationship in his life had been ripped away from him without a word.

But it had been a long time. He’d moved past the resentment of it and now he was all but awestruck at seeing you again.

“Hey, do you want…” Tommy’s voice trailed off and his eyes tracked where Joel’s were looking. “Holy fucking shit, is that…”

“Yup.”

“Did you know she…”

“Yup.”

Tommy was quiet for a moment.

“Know she was gonna be here?”

“Hell no.”

Joel caught a glimpse of his brother nodding out of the corner of his eye - he wasn’t about to stop looking at you, he was worried if he did you might disappear again - and sighed.

“You gonna talk to her?” Tommy asked after a moment.

“No idea.”

“Shit dude,” Tommy clapped his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Good luck with… whatever the fuck is gonna happen there.”

Joel glared at him for a second but kept his eyes on you. One of the other guys on the crew went to get the first round, something he appreciated because it meant he could keep watching you at a distance. He wasn’t sure what the fuck to say to you and he wasn’t about to just go talk to you with nothing to say.

But then you went to the bar and a guy was clearly annoying the hell out of you and, before he really knew what he was doing, he was heading for you.

“Hey, Goldie.”

You looked at him for a moment. You looked as surprised to see him as he was to see you.

“Hey, Joel.”

He smiled a little wider.

“Can I buy you a beer?” He asked.

“You’re a bit late, I’m afraid,” you said. “Already put it on my tab. But that’s assuming the bartender remembers I exist which seems like it might be aiming a bit high…”

Joel hung over the bar and hit the top of it a few times.

“Hey, Jimmy!” He yelled. The bartender whipped his head around. “Stop fuckin’ around, get my friend her shit, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning back to the woman he was talking to for a second before making you a shot first and then pouring your beer. He set both in front of you at the same time.

“Thank you,” you said, both to Joel and to Jimmy, and you did the shot, wincing as the tequila went down.

Joel whistled

“Shit, you lookin’ to get fucked up?”

“Well,” you coughed a little on the liquor before taking a sip of beer. “I already need to take an Uber home because the friend I came with is currently being devoured by that charming gentleman over there…” You nodded to a man at a table against the wall, a brunette draped across his lap who looked to be surgically connected to the man at the mouth. “So I figured, fuck it, may as well get hammered.”

Joel laughed a little at that.

“Since you’ve got no one else to get hammered with,” he shrugged. “Want to do it with me? Catch up a bit?”

You thought for a second, taking a sip of beer.

“Sure,” you said. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Joel got a beer, too, and followed you back to your table before he settled in beside you. Part of it felt so natural, being next to you, but it was so different, too. You were different, fuck knows he was different.

“So,” he said, watching you. “You’re in town.”

“I am,” you nodded.

“Visiting Anna?” He asked, even though he knew the answer. It had made news, the fact that you were coming to teach at UT.

“Work,” you said. “Moved back a few months ago.”

“So what do you do now?” He asked. “For work, I mean.”

“Teach, mostly,” you said. “I’m at UT now. Literature and creative writing.”

“Seems right up your alley,” he nodded. “Always liked that sorta thing. You ever write that book?”

You nodded, taking another sip of beer.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just one, though.”

“Ever publish it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “A few years ago…” Joel laughed and you frowned. “What?”

“You really think I don’t know you wrote a fuckin’ book?” He asked. “Course I know you wrote a fuckin’ book. Jesus, Goldie, your name is on fuckin’ posters and shit! You think I live under a rock?”

You laughed.

“You dick!” You shoved him playfully. “Look, you’re basically illiterate, I didn’t want to assume…”

“Hey just because I do shit besides read does not mean I’m illiterate!” He laughed. “You’re just a nerd…”

“You only finished high school because I’m a nerd,” you rolled your eyes. “Pretty sure your coach was ready to make me an honorary member of the team since me hounding you about homework was the only thing that kept your ass grade eligible.”

“Oh, you were the MVP,” he smiled, watching you take another sip of your beer and you smiled that amused little smile, the one you had when you were humoring him, the same one you’d had since you were 15 years old. “No question about it.”

“Since you know all about me apparently,” you teased. “What’s been going on with you?”

Joel shrugged, taking a drink. Mostly to buy himself time.

Did he want to admit to you that he’d all but taken his life and driven it into the ground since he last saw you?

Not that he ever felt like he had much potential, anyway. You and his mom had been the only people who’d ever really seen anything in him. But then you left and she died and was he even failing anybody anymore? Certainly not himself. And everything he did now he did to make sure he didn’t fail his daughter who, for the last 10 plus years, had been the only thing in his life that made it seem like all the shit was worth something.

But he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you about her, either. It seemed cheap, to bring her up in a bar to you of all people, one of the only reasons she existed in the first place.

“Kept busy,” he said instead with a shrug. “Workin’ construction. Roped Tommy into it about a year ago, too. His dumb ass kept getting into it with people, told him I wasn’t going to keep bailing him out of jail if he didn’t at least look like he was trying to get his shit together.”

You nodded and took another sip of beer.

“Do you like it?”

He shrugged again.

“Pays the bills.”

“Not what I asked, Joel.”

He looked at you. You were watching him in that keen way you had, your head cocked slightly to the side, your eyes looking at him like you could cut through everything, everything he ever had or was or would be, down into the lanky boy he’d been when he’d first met you.

“Not sure why it matters,” he said after a minute. “But it’s fine, I guess. Crew’s good. Work’s steady.”

“It matters because you deserve something that fulfills you,” you frowned slightly. “Don’t you think so?”

He laughed once, looking at you for a moment.

“Haven’t thought about shit that way in a while,” he said.

Since you left, he added silently. He didn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it, even though part of him wanted to. Wanted to demand an answer, wanted to yell at you, wanted to cry at you and make you answer for the destruction that you left behind you. Destruction that Joel wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever really recovered from, just found a way to live in the rubble of it all.

But you were here now, talking with him again.

“When was the last time we did this?” He asked.

“Did what?”

“Talked.”

You smiled a little.

“You mean besides the time you decided to yell at me about my romantic choices at my mother’s funeral?” You asked, brows raised. “Been a while.”

“Since prom?” He asked quietly.

He watched you clench your jaw before nodding and taking a drink.

“Since prom.”

Joel picked at the label on his beer bottle for a moment as you sat with your hands between your knees and looked anywhere but at him. Eventually, you picked up your drink glass again with your left hand and Joel traced your bare ring finger with his eyes.

“Thinkin’ I might have been right about the romantic choices,” he teased lightly and you frowned before he nodded at your hand.

“Ah, right,” you said, extending your hand in front of you and running your thumb over the inside of that finger like you would if there was a wedding band there. “Yeah, it turns out going on a book tour when your marriage is on the rocks isn’t the best way to handle things…”

“Shit,” he shook his head a little. “I’m sorry, Goldie, that…”

You scoffed.

“No you’re not,” you put your hand back in your lap. “You hated him. You said all of three words to Gale and you hated him…”

“OK first of all, his name was fucking Gale,” Joel cut you off. “And second of all, he was a fucking douchebag.”

You snorted into your beer, coughing and choking on it for a moment and Joel clapped you on the back as you held on to the table, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time.

“You alright there?” He asked, leaving his palm in the middle of your back.

“Fine,” you coughed, pounding your chest with your fist. “I’m fine, I just… It’s so funny, but Gale isn’t even his birth name.”

Joel gaped at you.

“You’re shitting me,” he said. “That asshole chose the name Gale?”

You nodded, still coughing and laughing.

“He did,” you said. “He did, he thought it made it sound him more authorial and academic, he changed it before he started teaching. His birth name is fucking Bradley - his mom still calls him Brad - and I only found out when filling out the marriage license.”

“What a fuckin’ dick,” Joel laughed, his hand still on you. He was touching you. He hadn’t touched you in so long and he was touching you. “Jesus Christ… Sorry if you’re still hung up on the guy but shit, you can do way better than that.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, calming down a bit and nodding to yourself. Joel watched you, uncertain. “Really, it is. I’m not going to pretend like I entirely agree with you but… things look different once you’re outside of the marriage and not in it anymore… Anyway. You married? Kids?”

“Not married,” Joel said, still not sure how he wanted to tell you about Sarah. If he even should, if the two of you were going to just go your separate ways after tonight and never speak again it felt wrong to share her. “Not even dating, really. At least, nothing steady…”

You laughed.

“Christ, why am I not surprised?” You teased. “You always had a way with the ladies. Haven’t outgrown that yet I take it?”

Joel smiled a little.

“Why outgrow what’s fun?”

You smiled a little back.

“Fair enough,” you said. “Don’t you want that, though? Something stable?”

“Is anything stable?” He asked. “Shit, half the people we went to school with now are fuckin’ divorced, what difference does it make?”

“Yeah, I guess I am one to talk,” you said, polishing off your beer.

Joel winced.

“Fuck, not what I meant…”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “I just… it didn’t work out and that’s that, right?”

“Right,” he said, watching you closely for a moment. “Hey, since you’re lookin’ to get hammered and I don’t got shit else to do tonight… shots?”

You laughed a little.

“I don’t know that I want to get that hammered,” you said. “I’m not a teenager anymore…”

“C’mon, Goldie,” he teased. “It’s on me. Plus it was my birthday the other day, gotta do at least one with me for that.”

“Oh shit,” you said. “It was, wasn’t it? You turned 33 on… Monday? Monday, right?”

“Right,” he laughed. “So, you in?”

You laughed a little back.

“Alright,” you said. “You’ve sold me. But I’ve got the first ones, it was your birthday, after all.”

The two of you moved to open bar stools on the end of the bar and ordered the first two shots - tequila - and clinked your glasses together before downing them, slamming them down on the bar top when you were done.

“See?” Joel teased. “You still got it in you.”

“If you say so,” you coughed a little and then laughed.

“Another?” He asked.

You looked at him for a moment.

“Fuck it,” you said and Joel flagged down Jimmy and ordered another round.

By the time it was last call, your friend had come over to say goodbye, her lipstick smudged around her lips and the mouth of the man she’d been draped across, and the bar had gotten quiet, just a handful of stragglers left even on a Friday night.

It took a few shots but you’d given up on keeping any distance from Joel at all, your bar stool sitting against his, your body pressed against his side, your head on his shoulder.

“Hey Jimmy!” Joel slapped the bar top a few times. The man came over and leaned on the bar, looking at you tucked against Joel. “Think you can get me a cab?”

“Sure as hell not lettin’ either of you two idiots drive,” he replied, going to get the phone.

“Hey,” Joel nudged you. “Where… where do you live? Need an address, gonna get you home.”

You thought for a second and then devolved into half drunk laughter.

“I don’t know,” your words were slurred. “Oh fuck, I’ve only lived there like… a few… a few… fuck. When did I move?”

“Before the school year?” He asked.

“Right,” you nodded. “Prob’ly right, that’s… that’s when. S’not long. I don’t know where it is, oh shit…”

“S’OK,” he said, putting an arm around you. “Just… just come home with me, s’fine.”

“Yeah?” You asked, raising your head slightly. “You… you don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind, Goldie,” he said gently. “Never mind, not with… not with you.”

You nodded and dropped your head back to his shoulder.

Joel had to half carry you to the cab and you dozed off against him on the drive, pressing your warm, soft body against his, passed out enough that you were drooling on the shoulder of Joel’s t-shirt, soaking through to his skin. He didn’t mind.

“She gonna be alright?” The cab driver asked as Joel paid him and nudged you awake.

“M’fine,” you waved him off.

“You know this guy?” The man asked, watching you in the rear view mirror.

“Him?” You asked, brows raised. “‘Course I know him, this… he’s Joel, he’s my best friend, s’fine.”

The driver nodded once.

“Good,” he said. “Take care of her, alright buddy?”

“Sure,” Joel said, setting you down in the back of the cab. “Always have.”

He got out and went around to the other door, almost tripping on the curb, before tugging you out of the backseat and against his side. You laughed and then shushed yourself.

“Sorry,” you tried to whisper but failed. “S’late, I should be quieter….”

“S’fine,” he slurred. “The neighbors think I’m trash anyway, not gonna ruin my reputation…”

You snorted at that.

“Assholes.”

He helped you up to the front door and fumbled with the lock, the two of you stumbling in. Julie, Sarah’s babysitter, shot up off the couch, a groggy look on her face.

“Wha?” She blinked for a second.

You yelped and Joel shushed you.

“Sorry,” you failed at whispering again. “But Joel… there’s a teenager in… you’ve got a teenager on your couch.”

“Yeah, she does that,” he tried to whisper back. “S’fine. How’d it go, Julie? Everything OK?”

“All good, Mr. Miller,” she stretched and got up, meeting Joel in the entry way. “She went down at 9:30 after trying to talk me into watching Coyote Ugly…”

“Oh lord,” Joel sighed. “Last thing she needs is to get it in her head that she should be singin’ and dancin’ on a bar…”

“Don’t worry, I said no,” she smiled. “But I think one of her friends at school is obsessed with it, not sure how else she’d know about it… Anyway. How about you pay me next week?”

“Oh shit,” he said, going for his wallet. She laughed.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” she said. “Not sure you’d remember paying me right now and I’m even less sure you can count.”

“Thanks,” he said, grateful. “You drive safe, alright kiddo?”

“Will do,” she laughed a little. “Night, Mr. Miller. And Mr. Miller’s… friend.”

“Night!” You said, a little loud before clamping your hand over your mouth and laughing. Once the door was closed, you turned your attention back to him. “Ooooo you’re Mr. Miller now.”

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ old,” he said, guiding you inside. “Here, I’m gonna put you to bed and then I’ll take the couch…”

“You absolutely will not,” you snorted. “I’m… I can sleep on the couch, not… not letting you take the couch in your own house. ‘Specially not when you’re old enough to be Mr. Miller.”

“Goldie…”

“I will move and sleep on the floor.”

He sighed and started moving you toward the couch.

“You ever gonna be less stubborn?”

“Nope,” you popped your lips on the p as he set you down. He got the blanket Julie had been asleep under and draped it over you as you snuggled into the couch. “Hey Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Who was that girl?” You asked, eyes already closed. “Why… why did you have a teenager in your house? This is your house, right?”

“S’my house,” he said, tucking you in. “And don’t worry ‘bout it. Just go to sleep.”

You yawned.

“Thanks, Joel,” your voice was groggy. “For taking care of me. Missed you.”

He stopped and looked back at you for a moment.

“Missed you, too.”

He went to bed, trying not to think of the last time you’d fallen asleep on him.

***

The Morning After Prom

May, 2008

The pink and orange of dawn woke you up. You were on Joel’s chest, his shirt unbuttoned so you could feel his skin on yours and your dress was still bunched around your waist from when Joel had slid the straps down your arms the night before.

You enjoyed it for a moment. The feel of Joel’s skin, how his chest rose and fell with his breaths, how the early morning light caught in the curls that had broken free of the gel you were sure his mom had put in it the night before. He smelled good, like cologne - the kind that a man would wear, not the Axe shit that drenched the hallways of your school - and soap and a hint of sweat that just felt like the essence of him. You wanted to stay like this with him forever. Be this close, know him in this way. It felt right, it felt beyond just good.

And then you remembered, you weren’t supposed to be here.

“Joel,” you whispered, sitting up from him and shaking him gently but urgently. “Joel, wake up!”

“Hm?” He mumbled, groggy, his eyes opening slowly.

“We fell asleep,” you said, still whispering even though there was no one here to hear you. “We’re not supposed to be up here, we have to go!”

“Shit,” he blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked you over and you were suddenly fiercely aware of how naked you were, how the light of day was creeping in and casting over your exposed skin. Joel reached out and cupped your cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out…”

“It’s OK,” you said quickly, clutching your dress over your naked breasts as you slid the straps back on. “But we should get home, we didn’t tell our moms that we were going to be out all night, I’m sure they’re pissed…”

“It’s prom,” he said. “Think they expected it to be a late one. But… you’re right, we should get going.”

Joel got up and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. It wasn’t until you moved your lower half that you realized how sore you were between your thighs, your skirt falling back down to your feet. Joel held your hand for a moment once you were standing and his skin felt hot against yours. You dropped his hand and cleared your throat awkwardly.

“You should button your shirt,” you said quietly, nodding to his bare chest. “And… um… Zip up your pants.”

“Oh,” he looked down. “Um… Right. Right.”

He moved quickly as you looked over as much of your dress as you could see and Joel used the glass of the press box as a mirror to adjust his hair.

“Do I look OK?” You asked when he was done, turning so he could see the whole dress. “Not like… not like we….”

“There’s… um…” he cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “I think we made a mess of the back of your dress, I didn’t think… should have moved it, I guess…”

“Shit,” you twisted, trying to spot it. “Do you think…”

“Just don’t turn your back to your mom,” he said quickly. “Should… should be OK.”

“Right,” you said. “Yeah, that’s… right. OK.”

Joel led the way to his car and the two of you sat in silence on the ride home. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his elbow propped on the door of the car, hand on his mouth, his face drawn.

What were you supposed to do now? You’d never done… this. You’d never been in this position and now you were here with Joel, the person who was your best friend, the person you knew better than anyone else in the world, the person that everything had felt so right with it had been impossible to stop.

But what did you do now?

He stopped in your drive way and sat there, staring straight ahead.

“Thank you,” you said. He looked at you, his eyes a little wide. “For taking me to prom, I mean. It was… I had… It was good. I liked it. It was good.”

“Yeah,” he nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I’m glad I… got to go with you. To prom.”

“Right.”

You looked at him. You wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to hold onto you and tell you that everything was going to be OK and that you were going to figure this out and it would be you and him together just like it always had been.

Instead, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“I’ve got church this morning,” he said. “And then we’re goin’ to help my grandma in the afternoon so I don’t think I can see you until tomorrow…”

“I’ve got that doctor’s appointment in the morning,” you said. “So… I guess I’ll just… I’ll see you at school?”

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, right. I’ll… I’ll see you at school.”

You smiled tightly at him and leaned in slowly to kiss him on the cheek, hoping that he would turn his head and press his lips to yours the way he had the night before.

He didn’t.

“Thanks, Joel.”

“Yeah.”

You went inside and got undressed in your bathroom, looking at the stain on your dress, hoping you’d be able to get the stain of your blood and his come out before your mother noticed and it ruined anything else.

Next Chapter

A/N: Eeeeeeee! I'm so excited now that this story is properly going!

I hope you enjoy exploring Joel and Goldie with me. I really love their friendship and the way they care for each other and I think there's so much to explore with the both of them.

I do have an updates blog. Follow it here and subscribe for alerts when I post.

Thank you for being here! It really does mean so much to me to share this story with you. Love you!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

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slushiepizza · 15 days

Text

The Pursuit of Catharsis

Pairing : Guy/Honey

Tags : Infidelity, Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Post-Divorce, Guy cheated on Honey and they both had a divorce, DILF Guy, Screenwriter Guy, Moving On Themes

Word Count : 1,453

ao3

How to Heal after a Cheating Spouse

Betrayal from a loved one would cause a mix of emotions unlike any other: vitriol, grief, disappointment. In this column, relationship counselor C. Pardalis details the steps needed to move on.

The first ever step that nobody ever wants to hear is forgiveness. Forgiveness isn’t done for your spouse’s sake- neither does it mean that you have to maintain a relationship with them. It’s about making peace with the pain of the past and moving forward.

Honey closed all the tabs in their browser and shut down the laptop. Every website said the same thing- to forgive, forget, and be the bigger person. Pain simmered in the hollow of their chest. They stared around themselves and noted the take-out boxes on the table. Abandoned laundry piled high on top of the dining room chair- how’d it even get there?

The room could use some cleaning. They were expecting a guest, after all.

In thirty minutes, Guy will arrive at the front door- as if he’s a visitor and not someone who’d lived in the complex for the past twenty years. Had they been younger- had they cared more, they probably would’ve been angrier. Tossed all of his things when they found out- when they saw the mark on the side of his neck, the pair of tickets for a vacation they didn’t book, the foreign smell of cologne sticking in the inside of his jacket. But they didn’t- and instead held onto his things for him to pick up after the divorce had been finalized. Time flew in the blink of an eye and papers were signed.

They’re older. Possibly wiser- but they think they’re just tired of it all. Or maybe they were looking for an excuse to get out of the relationship, anyway. It didn’t matter anymore. Honey quickly folded and put away the laundry in a mechanical way, their hands moved faster than their mind could catch up.

Honey looked at the inside of their closet- a row of newer, sleek designer clothing came into view. They bit the inside of their cheek as they decided on what to wear. They came a long way ever since they began dating him- no longer the college student living in cramped, shared dorms, but someone with a sizable enough salary to afford some luxuries.

Of course, that was nothing compared to Guy the best-selling author, award-winning screenwriter. Everything had its costs, they supposed. They hated to admit it- but they should’ve seen it coming. The success- the downfall. The way it crashed and burned for them.

Try dating yourself, the article said. Make an effort to treat yourself well and find confidence like how you would a partner.

They picked a matching set- a navy-blue, cashmere suit and jacket. Honey looked at themself in the mirror and saw signs of aging. They also saw the bags under their eyes from sleepless nights. Nothing some concealer couldn’t fix. They straightened their jacket and fastened a watch to their wrist.

There’s nothing to prove, Honey reminded themself. But they knew that it was a lie. They spritzed perfume on the inside of their neck. They were dressed as if they were going somewhere-when ten minutes ago, they were lounging in their sleepwear, unable to get themselves out of bed. They wanted to look like they were doing well. Unaffected. Like the twenty years that went down the drain meant nothing to them.

If Guy wanted to sleep around- then so be it. They’re a prize that he’d regret not treasuring.

Honey straightened their posture and twisted their defeated expression into something more neutral. It didn’t last long, as they sighed and went back to their sagged shoulders and hurt, pathetic gaze. They’d play the part when he’s here. It’s exhausting to keep up the facade when they felt nothing but confident, around them remnants of what used to be.

Their wedding ring sat in the same drawer they kept their watches. They should pawn it off soon.

Focus on personal development. Improve yourself and stick to a routine. It’s easy to fall into a rut when grieving the ending of a relationship, especially due to your partner’s mistake.

Honey was the healthiest they’d ever been- yet it’s the worst they’ve ever felt. They go on runs in the crack of dawn and hike on the weekends. They’ve tried everything an acai-bowl eating, veganism-practicing LA native would do: pilates, yoga, hot yoga, crossfit. The post-exercise endorphins would soothe them momentarily, but soon the grief of it all would crash into them like a wave against the cliffs and they stood, heaving on the floor like an animal.

It’s ironic how they were the happiest when they would barely sleep and eat anything that they could afford at the time- which wasn’t much. When Guy would excitedly bring pizza for dinner when they knew that he’d pay for them out of his own paycheck. He’d say that he made it especially for them, and the worst part was that it was true. He put onions because he knew they liked them when he didn’t- put up with the horrors of pineapple on pizza when he found it disgusting.

Honey swallowed and fought the incoming tears. Fuck.

A series of knocks echoed through the apartment and they straightened themself. A picture of serenity and composure. The door swung to reveal the person they’ve been dreading.

“Hey,” he greeted, somewhat hesitant. He had the nerve to look sorry. Anger boiled in their stomach and took purchase in their diaphragm as Honey dissected the man in front of them.

At forty-five, he was definitely still attractive, the half-up, salt-and-pepper hair and unshaved stubble giving him an air of aged wisdom. But Honey just thought that he looked weary, the well-tailored, expensive suit doing a good job of hiding his defeated sort of pride. They have that in common.

It’s been a difficult year.

“Your things are in the boxes near the couch. I packed them so you can just take them away,” they said, curt and flat.

“Okay,” he replied, tight-lipped. They could feel the sadness emanating from him- it reminded them of the night of the confrontation- when he broke down and said that they should leave, because they deserved better. And they do, they like to believe that they do. But why is it so hard?

“Your books and CDs- the Star Trek merch is over there, too.”

“Thanks,” Guy muttered. And the two of them stood in a suffocating silence.

“I don’t resent you, by the way,” Honey said, the words practiced, their back turned from him against the backdrop of the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Really.” It was rhetorical, not a question but more of an ironic statement.

Guy gave a weak laugh, like it’s a private joke only he understood. After signing one movie deal after the next, He’s somehow rougher on the edges now, as if any form of gentleness that remained in him was no longer. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, grief-stricken and still as earnest as ever, and Honey could feel the twist of a knife in their stomach.

The article repeated itself in their mind. The first ever step that nobody ever wants to hear is forgiveness.

Fuck that, Honey thought as they tried to hold themself together. Fuck that article. Fuck Guy. Fuck him and his ambitions and the pains of his past for taking the one thing they ever cared about.

What if they don’t want to forgive? What if the pain was so unbearable- it wasn’t like this was a mistake that could be fixed with a good, healthy lifestyle and breathing exercises. Twenty years. Twenty years of seeing him, soft and gentle, yet unrelenting in the pursuit of his dreams of becoming a writer. His hair brushed against their neck whenever he’d lean his head on their shoulder back in the movie nights they had in college. Him taking care of them whenever they’re sick and pissy about it. The late-night drives and the way he’d always have time for them no matter how busy he was.

The light that drained from his eyes, the exhaustion. The way he’d go home in the dead of night, drained and tired and burnt out. The stink of cigarettes and the alcohol under his breath. The articles, the tabloids, the rumors and how they insisted that he wouldn’t do it. He loved them too much to ever leave them for someone else.

Honey collapsed into the floor as soon as Guy closed the door behind him. Heavy sobs wrecked through them as the night wrapped them in its embrace.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted guy #redacted honey #redactedverse

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wistfulrat · 7 months

Text

・❥・lesbian wangxian reccs ・❥・

ao3topships poll gate made me realize there are hundreds nay thousands of u who dont know abt lesbian wangxian ?? that’s so sad can i proselytize u real quick

mimilamp cinematic universe (the ppl’s mcu) sorry for starting this list with a whole author catalog. as if it's my fault!! these gave me covid. no listen mimilamp fics have feverish lesbian angst levels of hot horny despair that could paralyze a large forest animal. and on a sentence level it's just stunning. messy dykes fumbling toward love confessions while making emotionally insane choices and the sex scenes fuckn bang ??? god is real

good, good - 13.5k E Wei Ying has two broken wrists and now she needs Lan Zhan to help her do stuff (jerk off)

here’s a story - 46k E Wei Ying reluctantly joins her recently-dumped best friend, Lan Zhan, on a couples' holiday retreat. Snow! Drinks! Truth or dare! There's a s-s-s-single bed! You'll never guess what happens next.

out of your system - 20k E “Maybe you should get me out of your system,” Wei Ying blurts. “Maybe that’ll help.” // Wei Ying finds out her best friend Lan Zhan is in love with her and offers a really super solution.

exposure therapy - 14k E Wei Ying clambered up from the floor, put the joint on the corner of the night stand, announced, “Exposure therapy,” and got into Lan Zhan’s bed. // Lan Zhan doesn't like to be touched, Wei Ying likes to touch.

know no one else - 20k E Lan Zhan moves out, Wei Ying's boyfriend moves in. Six months later, Lan Zhan visits, they go to a party, and Wei Ying has something to tell her.

74243 this author should be studied in a lab bc these 2 fics ruined my life. a pulitzer prize short fic with immaculate tone followed by the fuck nastiest shit you will ever read. "wei ying swipes right" still a top 3 bar of all time re: fic summaries. like people died.

chef’s kiss - 6.5k E Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.” “There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.” // (Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

pull out game weak - 22.7k E Wei Ying swipes right.

plonk this is the only fic in many ways. dyke nmj's mustache academy award winning breakout role. possessive hot dyke lwj. the sentence "don't knot her you freak." have u ever seen a group chat get rabies in real time. the slut rot breached containment. it was a public health crisis. it brought back horny cinema. cultural reset.

good friends - 11.5k E “I could invite her over for when the game’s done,” Nie Mingjue offers. Lan Zhan hums, considering it. They do that sometimes. Take omegas down together.

occultings will i ever get tired of -wwx thinks she's straight and wants to practice being gay with sadsack lwj who is like sure im in love with u and this will cause me psychic damage but mayhaps that's the cost of being homiesexual--? no i dont get tired of the classics it's called taste

give me one good honest kiss - 25k E The text keeps flashing over and over in Lan Zhan's head like the bulb lights on a marquee. They’d been talking about homework directly before that, swapping notes on music theory in the baroque period. Then, like a fork of lightning out of a clear blue sky: wanna practice kissing? 😚 // Wei Ying suggests an arrangement. Lan Zhan, in love, deals.

saltyfeathers ok so like sure it's ill advised to get your cartilage pierced at claire's but if you wanted the experience of participating in deranged hysteric behavior that kinda bangs in a badgood way? well then.

the mall that has it all - 8k E She introduced herself in the food court, breathless after sprinting across it in Lan Zhan’s direction and vaulting over a table only to crash into the seat across from her, ask, “Can I have a sip?”, spring forward with both elbows on the table to wrap her burgundy lips around Lan Zhan’s smoothie straw, wrinkle her nose, and say, “What is that, kale? Not really my thing, as like, a mall goth. Oh!” A pleased, chaotic exhale. “My name’s Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan said, after taking a moment to fully process the last forty-five seconds, “What?” or; mall goth au

#just thought abt mimilamp “baby are you happy” and almost walked into traffic #wangxian fic rec #lesbian wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #cql #femslash #wlw wangxian #mimilamp #74243 #plonk #occultings #saltyfeathers

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I love your writing! Submitting a request for fluff where famous/ rockstar Eddie is at an event where Steve is very clearly ogling him. People suggest they flirt (thinking it won't go anywhere bc Eddie is notoriously hard to get) until they end up seen together, completely smitten (they've been together for eons at this point, no one seems to add up their matching scars or rings)

I will admit some of this was written when I was on some heavy dose pain meds so if it’s completely incoherent or something doesn’t have continuity it’s because I forgot I started this and then just picked it back up without really reading most of it. I always love reading rockstar Eddie, especially when Steve has to be like his assistant or bodyguard instead of his date to things. They say write what you know so this is what I know! - Mickala ❤️

———————————————————————

Eddie Munson was nominated for a Grammy.

It almost didn’t seem possible that he was sitting in the same room as musicians he’d looked up to his whole life.

And Steve was here, too.

Technically, Steve was his plus one, but since he couldn’t exactly have a boyfriend in public, he was disguised as his assistant.

He didn’t necessarily mind as long as it meant having Steve by his side for the biggest night of his life.

But then the band’s manager told him that he couldn’t sit next to Steve, that it would look weird that he sat next to his assistant instead of the band members or a date. So Steve was across the table, looking sadly down at his plate of disgusting fancy food.

Eddie couldn’t really blame him; He felt pretty upset too.

But then he was expected to mingle for a bit, and Steve was instructed to stay at the table. It wasn’t that they expected to be able to do everything together tonight, but it was quickly turning into Eddie being unable to spend any time with him.

He mingled.

He felt Steve’s eyes on him the entire time.

But he resisted looking back.

Instead, he played with the ring Steve got him the year before on his ring finger. It was a plain silver band, the most plain thing Eddie wore.

Right before the actual awards ceremony started, Steve snuck up behind him, placed a hand on his lower back, and whispered in his ear.

“Can’t wait for my Grammy winning fiancé to fuck me on every surface of our hotel room tonight.”

And then he walked away.

He walked away like he hadn’t just broken Eddie’s brain.

Eddie called it after that, unable to focus on any conversation that didn’t involve any of Steve’s plans for the night.

By the time he got back to the table, Steve was smiling at him in a way that told him he was in trouble. He loved that smile.

Eddie felt a nudge and turned to see the guitarist for a band in a different category smirking at him from the next table over.

“Man, that guy has been staring at you all night. Isn’t he your assistant?”

Eddie did what he practiced: he lied.

“Oh, yeah! That’s Steve. He’s more security than anything, but he’s playing assistant tonight. Can’t really break him of bodyguard habits though,” Eddie shrugged as if to say ‘what are ya gonna do?’

“I dunno, dude. Seems like he might be into you.”

“Nah, I think you’re reading into it,” Eddie shook his head.

But when he turned back to his plate and glanced at Steve, Steve was practically glaring at him.

“Gareth,” Eddie whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“What?” Gareth said at a normal volume, like the fucking oblivious idiot he was.

Eddie rolled his eyes and leaned in to try to get the point across that they needed to be quiet.

“I think I’m gonna skip the after party tonight. Steve’s not having a good time and I’m kinda not interested in another two hours of having to pretend he’s just my assistance. Think you guys can handle it without me?”

“Yeah, man. No problem.”

Gareth quickly turned back to his date, who probably had never even listened to their music before, but was hand chosen by their manager when Gareth admitted he didn’t have a date.

The rest of the guys had actual dates, girls they’d been with for months, or in Jeff’s case, years.

But none of them had what he and Steve had.

And it sucked that he was stuck having to pretend that he wasn’t completely in love with him.

So he made an executive decision that when the awards were over, he’d feign a headache and claim his assistant could ride with him back to the hotel so the rest of the guys could enjoy the night.

He gave Steve a look that begged patience, begged him to just enjoy the night as it was the best he could.

And because Steve was a good fiancé, a good person, he smiled and took a sip of his wine before involving the person next to him in a conversation.

But the awards started up shortly after, and they didn’t have to pretend to want to talk to anyone else. Eddie managed to find Steve’s foot under the table, started running his foot up Steve’s leg until it was just above his knee, until Gareth nudged him and whispered that he was sinking down in his chair and it was almost their category.

Eddie sat back up, smirking at the way Steve was trying so hard to focus on the stage, but his eyes were glassy and his cheeks were red.

When they announced “Best Rock Album”, and all the nominees, everyone at the table sat up straight, nerves thrumming through their veins.

Corroded Coffin had worked their asses off to be here. Broke bar tours in the Midwest, trying to slip in original songs when they could but still keep people entertained. Broke bar tours on the west coast when Steve bought an RV that he let them use from September to November and February to May. Then a record label signing them only to find out they expected them to change their entire sound and tour the entire east coast for four months, right when the kids were graduating high school. The band agreed they had to find a way out. Luckily, Steve’s mom was one of the best lawyers around and kind of owed him for just being a shitty mom, and she managed to find a loophole in their contract that got them out without having to pay anything except a small studio fee for when they recorded a song.

But things turned around quickly for them after that.

A record company saw them perform in Indy, said they loved that they were a “listener friendly heavy metal”, wanted them to make an album and tour all summer.

They agreed.

The first album took off in ways no one could’ve expected. They were in magazines and newspapers, on late night shows, and performing in places Eddie could’ve only dreamed of.

The second album went even better.

This third album, though. It was different.

The guys called it his love letter to Steve, so they had every right to say they didn’t want to record it or perform it, but they did. It was still their sound, still rock, but the lyrics were about yearning for the person who wanted you most, and being proud of the people you were together, and loving someone who’d never been loved right.

It was disgustingly romantic, but because there were amazing guitar solos and drums, they maintained their street cred in the rock family.

Steve cried for hours the first time he listened to it, and when it was done, he proposed to Eddie.

But Eddie’s plan all along was to propose to Steve after he listened to the album, so while Steve was down on one knee, tears still falling from his eyes, Eddie dropped to one knee too.

They’ve worn matching silver bands on their ring fingers since, but no one seems to have noticed.

In all fairness, Eddie wears a lot of rings, a lot of jewelry. It’s not immediately obvious unless you see his hands every day.

So this album meant a lot to him and to Steve. When they got news of the nomination, they cried and then Eddie fucked Steve for six hours straight, which shouldn’t have been possible, but through the adrenaline of being nominated for a Grammy, all things are possible.

Now they were here, being forced to keep some distance because they’d all agreed he couldn’t be out yet, couldn’t say who this album was about even though they get asked in every interview.

He maintains the mystery and it kills him.

He knows it kills Steve too.

“Corroded Coffin with their album, ‘Into Battle With You’!”

Everyone at their table was jumping up and yelling excitedly, and Eddie could barely breathe. He desperately wanted to kiss Steve, but he knew he had to wait.

He felt Steve’s eyes on him the entire walk to the stage with his boys, the whole speech he gave, and the whole walk backstage.

The post-interview process was annoying, especially when they all just wanted to get back to their dates, but it had to be done.

Pictures were taken, hugs were given, and they were finally given the chance to go back to their table.

“Dude, how did we beat Metallica? This feels like a dream,” Jeff asked, eyes still a bit wide in disbelief.

“Don’t question it, they might reconsider,” Gareth threw in.

Eddie was laser focused on sitting down at the table to talk to Steve, even if they had to have distance between them.

But when they got to the table, Steve was gone.

Eddie tried not to panic. Maybe he needed to use the restroom and thought Eddie would be longer.

But five minutes passed and he still wasn’t back. He turned to the guy who’d spoken to him earlier.

“Hey, have you seen my assistant?”

“Yeah, he said he had to get some air.”

“Thanks.”

Eddie wasn’t even thinking when he stood up and made his way outside, their manager whisper shouting at him to sit down.

Steve was more important.

It took too long to get outside, guests and press and guards congratulating him the whole way out. They had blocked off the side exit for everyone to leave later, made sure the side road was secure and only approved vehicles got through. Steve was probably here somewhere.

But he wasn’t. Eddie started to panic.

He walked up to the valet to ask if he’d seen him. He hadn’t.

Then he walked up to a guard by the end of the road. He hadn’t seen him either.

Maybe they missed each other somehow, maybe he’d gone back inside and there were too many people to see Eddie coming outside.

But as he looked across the road at a diner that somehow still remained on this strip of fancy dining and coffee shops, he saw him.

He was sitting at a table with a milkshake in front of him. Two straws.

Eddie bit his lip to keep from crying.

Back in Hawkins, they weren’t able to really go on dates. Robin would sometimes third wheel just so they would be less suspicious, but it was awkward. But at the diner, they could get a booth in the back, share a milkshake, and no one would see or question it if Steve’s hand slipped across the table to run his fingers across Eddie’s arm.

Eddie ran to the diner, he had to be with Steve right now.

When he walked up to the table, Steve smiled up at him.

“Got your favorite,” he said, gesturing for Eddie to sit across from him.

So Eddie did, because if Steve wanted him, he had him.

That’s how it’s been for years, that’s how it always would be.

Steve reached a hand over to run his fingers over his arm, smiling at him fondly.

“I’m proud of you, Eds. So proud.”

Eddie wasn’t going to cry.

But the way Steve was looking at him, he couldn’t hold back the tears.

They sat like that, enjoying their milkshake, for probably longer than they should have.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people slowly leaving the awards, rushing into vehicles, not paying attention to the diner across the street.

But eventually, they knew they needed to go, needed to find the guys so they knew they were safe.

Eddie went up to the counter, felt Steve’s eyes on him the whole time.

“All set?” The woman behind the register asked with a smile.

“Yes ma’am.”

“That’ll be $2.50.”

Eddie handed her a $20 bill and told her to keep the change, pay for someone else’s bill if she felt like it, and she nodded.

“You know, that boy must love you a whole lot to be lookin’ at you like that.”

“Hm?” Eddie asked as he turned to see Steve watching him with a content grin. “Oh. Yeah, he’s obsessed with me.”

The woman smirked.

“And you?”

“Oh, I’m so obsessed with him, I wrote an entire album about him. Just won an award for my obsession.”

“Good. You take care of each other.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Eddie walked over to the table to help Steve up, but separated again before they walked outside to join the now heavier crowd waiting for their cars.

———

The next day, the news was focused on all the Grammy winners, Corroded Coffin among them. Steve proudly read aloud from the newspaper delivered to their hotel room, standing up completely naked and reading it theatrically.

But when he got towards the end, he froze.

His brows furrowed and the line in his forehead got bigger.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“There’s a picture of us. At the diner.”

“Oh?”

“We look…”

Eddie walked over to see what he was talking about.

Even in the blurry black and white newspaper image, you could see the love between them. It would be impossible to deny what was going on there.

Eddie smiled and leaned in to kiss the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“Alright?”

Steve looked at him, searching his face for any sign of panic, smiling when he didn’t find any.

“Perfect. This is perfect.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #corroded coffin #rock star Eddie Munson #ficlet #anon request #request #it’s the 90s in this #I feel like i gotta say time has passed even though it’s very clear time has passed

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operationslipperypuppet · 7 months

Text

Naddpod Carnegie based on what I can remember, post-show euphoria comedown. (That’s more for me so I can remember it later)

The music was played by a quintet, and the director was Emily’s brother, Brian. They were incredible.

Music started early and people talked through a lot of it but it was all incredible. When they played Kingshammer, everyone lost their shit after one note. When they finished we freaked out. We were correct to do this.

The whole two crew was dressed up and looked so great! Murph’s jacket was bedazzled.

The band stayed on stage for the show and played music under moments of it as it happened.

We started with the Boobs. They were nominated for the hit awards show, the Batubies, 5 years after the fall of Thiala. Bev was wearing a too-tight bow tie and grew a bad mustache. Hardwons outfit matched what Jake was wearing. Moonshine wild shaped just her torso into a penguin (still with huge boobs). Paw Paw was covered in hair gel and grew a perfect mustache. They were all gunning for pawpaw to win, and the photographers only wanted to photograph him.

Balnor was the host. He was possessed by a joke book, dungeons and laughies. He had veneers and Hardwon and Moonshine wanted some as well. Hardwon filed his teeth down to prepare, Moonsshine opted to wait for a dentist. The boobs HATED Balnor’s jokes. He hissed at them when they tried to take his book. Moonshine admitted to maybe being attracted to hissing Balnor.

The awards show started with an in memoriam to certain villains they’d killed. They were described: Josh - thrown out a window by Moonshine, The Crag - beheaded by Bev after a beheading song/dance (I do not remember lol), Galad - beheaded by Hardwon and then resurrected and beheaded by hardwons mom (jake blows kiss to Lydia), The Bear Prince - killed by Moonshine then brought back as a zombie so he could be killed by Hardwon, who was trapped in honey the whole fight, Thiala - eaten by Moonshine.

Awards were as follows: A best dramatic acting - they played clips from the actual pod; Hardwon finding out about his parents, Bev trying to resurrect Erlin when Thiala killed Pelor, Moonshine’s “child has a duty to his father, hero has a duty to the world”, and Donkey Kong’s recap of the wars - DK won. The audience was confused. Moonshine and Hardwon were angry because “that wasn’t canon”. DK sent in a video acceptance speech. Pendergreens won best redemption arc and gave a speech about how good Bowflexes are, and then Ren won a free bow flex. Coach Bortram won best smite, murph thought he remembered his voice. He did not

Best hero was the boobs rescinding their nominations so Paw Paw could win. Balnor, possessed, gave it to Galad, resurrecting him. Paw Paw was the only one to escape a restraining spell, and fled the theater, chosen knights in hot pursuit. The Boobs were annoyed with Balnor and when he died onstage were called out by Cobb and MeeMaw for being mean. It was nice to have Cobb.

Outside, he found the Triplets and Keychain, who were arguing with the astral worm bouncer because they weren’t on the list and Onyx dressed as one of the “Stranger Kids” cast to try to get in. (Murph still DMing, Caldwell as Keychain.) They wanted to kill Paw Paw (thought he was a weird dog) and were ready to fight the Chosen over it. Paw Paw rolled a nat 20 initiative, and ran again. Nyack killed 2 knights, Onyx killed 3 others. They got VIP passes and headed inside the theater, Onyx hitting on the astral worm along the way.

Paw Paw then found the Third Mates in a bar. Zirk drank windex, poisoned himself, and Fia and Hank also drank Windex. They talked about having Windex visions and seeing Windex Goblins. Paw Paw was familiar with the ladder. Bukvar could talk to Paw Paw and translated his distress to the Third Mates. He also asked why they drank Windex. Murph said that the bartender said “this only really sounds like one of you” and looked past zirk, very clearly calling out human man Caldwell. It was beautiful. They were ready to act, healed from poison by Paw Paw giving them water. Balnors evil book attacked, and Hank and Shank took it out in one turn, doing over 100 damage with an action surge. Murph was pleasantly shocked. Fia was able to use the disenchanted book to learn the spell to free everyone in the theater They then followed Paw Paw back to the theater.

Inside, everyone discovered that the Boobs had been kidnapped by Galad, who intended to use their blood to bring back Thiala. The only witnesses to this were our beloved Duck Team, who did not get restrained but didn’t help because they were busy playing smash on a DS.

Balnor, back alive, asked everyone to come help. There was some discussion over whether the triplets would go.

He took all the heroes in the Stormborn to the mountains of Irondeep. The triplets took over the captains quarters and claimed they already had rewards accounts. They tried to order chicken caesar salads from Calder, who could only find lettuce. Hank was steering, worried about gunk in the wheel. Fia was warming up the canons, Callie was in the crows nest. Sol was in the sails, Zirk got stuck in the engine. It was glorious.

Once in irondeep, they found Galad looming over the tied up boobs, stealing Rosaline back. They rolled initiative based on the highest dex of any of their characters and could choose one to take a turn as. It was dope as hell. Order was Galad, Jake, Emily, Caldwell.

Galad used his first turn to kill Jens. Turned him to dust. Murph demanded a sad song play for his death, and he got Valiant Ol’ Cobb. (Beautiful orchestration. Un fucking earned). The remaining triplets then explained his best moments to Balnor, including asking Keychain if he was a blender and watching Friends with headphones but the subs on so others could read it. Nyack shot at Galad. Onyx smacked the shit out of Galad (with the help of a chronal shift). Galad used legendaries to hit and then power word kill Nyack. Nyack blamed Calder due to the fact he didn’t have chicken on his salad. The familiars freed the boobs. Zirk helped Bev use a “blue smite” (Windex reference) on Galad. Galad attacked and crit on Onyx. Hardwon smacked the shit out of Galad and killed him once again.

Paw Paw was then given the divine power Galad had and Murph said the audience could decide if he resurrected Nyack and Jens. It was a split vote. In the end, only Nyack was resurrected.

We then ended the show with a One Big Bed singalong. It was so wonderful and sweet and perfect.

All in all, it was a great fucking show. What an absolute gift. Here’s to 5 more years.

#naddpod #sorry for main tagging this but people might want to see it?? I did the read more for a reason. this long as hell.#naddpod Carnegie

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magicfootballstuff · 1 year

Text

Strictly Unprofessional - part 6 (alexia putellas x reader)

Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.

Part 6/9

———

Though you’ve only been at Barcelona a few months, you’ve come to realise that Alexia wins a lot of trophies.

Every so often you’re tasked with taking photos of Alexia with her newest award for social media and that’s your job this afternoon. She’s changed out of her usual sports kit into a dark suit which she wears over a white tank top, and it’s a nice enough day that you’ve decided to take the pictures outside in front of the Barcelona crest on the wall by the main entrance to the training centre.

“I hate photoshoots,” Alexia confides in you, as you position her so that the crest is visible behind her.

“Really?” you ask, stepping back behind your tripod to check the framing of the shot on the camera display. “I’d have thought they’d be second nature by now. Just move slightly to your left please.”

Alexia shuffles across until you give her a thumbs up.

“I guess it’s like you say about doing shoots like this compared to taking pictures of us in training,” Alexia explains. “It’s much less natural. And I have to be the Alexia the world wants me to be, not the Alexia I actually am.”

You take a couple of test shots to check the lighting, before you ask, “And what would the actual Alexia do after winning an award?”

��I don’t know,” Alexia answers with a shrug. “Chill at home in my pyjamas with my dog?”

An idea pops into your head and you step out from behind the tripod to ask, “Do you trust me?”

Alexia frowns at you, curiosity in her eyes.

“Why?”

“Let’s do this shoot because it’s my job and we have to, but why don’t we do another one later?”

“I’ve just told you I hate photoshoots and your answer is to do another one?” Alexia says, arching an amused eyebrow.

“You can say no, but why not let me take some pictures of you at home with your dog and your pyjamas and anything else you like. Give me a chance to show the real Alexia.”

Alexia considers the suggestion but you can see that she’s still doubtful. You instantly kick yourself - she’s already made it clear she doesn’t like being photographed and you’ve probably just made her incredibly uncomfortable.

“Never mind, it was just a dumb idea…”

“I trust you,” Alexia interrupts you. “Let’s do it. Are you free tonight? I can order takeaway.”

“That sounds great.”

———

True to her word, when you arrive at Alexia’s apartment she greets you at the door with a takeaway menu for a local Thai restaurant and your camera bag is quickly dropped by the door and forgotten as you order dinner.

When the food arrives, you settle on Alexia’s couch and watch an episode of a new reality show you’ve heard some of the girls talking about. You haven’t seen it before but half an episode in you quickly realise why it’s popular - it’s just bad enough to be addictive. What makes it better is Alexia’s commentary, chiming in every so often with a joke or a scathing judgement. At one point, she sends you into a fit of giggles so hard that you choke on a noodle, and Alexia has to pause the show just to check that you’re okay.

As the credits roll at the end of the episode, Alexia starts to clear away the plates and you retrieve your camera bag. You’ve brought your smaller camera and none of the fancy equipment, wanting to stay true to your word about making this authentic rather than staged.

“Oh, so you wait until after I’ve got a stomach full of food to take pictures?” Alexia asks, returning to the room and eyeing up your camera as she sits back down on the couch.

“I thought this was about capturing the real Alexia,” you remind her. “Food baby and all.”

“Ugh, fine,” Alexia groans. She leans down to pick up Nala, before cooing at the dog, “You’ll just have to sit in Mami’s lap to hide her belly, won’t you Nala?”

You click the shutter of your camera a few times in quick succession, capturing a few photos of Alexia showering Nala with kisses and scratches. Alexia looks up at you, mouth pressed together in disapproval, and Nala uses the distraction as an excuse to leap off Alexia’s lap. You can’t help but take the opportunity to get a picture of Alexia glowering at you too, because her pout is just too cute.

“A little warning next time?” Alexia asks.

“Just pretend I’m not here. Act naturally.”

“Do you know how hard it is to try to act natural when somebody tells you to act natural?” Alexia speaks up. “Like which way do I normally cross my legs? Do I normally cross my legs at all?”

To emphasise her point, Alexia crosses and uncrosses her legs a few times each way, before she slumps back against the couch and props her feet up on the coffee table next to the empty takeaway containers. You snap a quick picture, then a few more when Nala jumps up onto the sofa again and nestles against Alexia’s thigh.

“Anyway, I have something special for this,” you tell Alexia, reaching into your camera bag and pulling out another camera, this one from your own personal collection that you would never take with you to work.

“Is that a Polaroid camera?” Alexia asks, her eyes lighting up. “I used to have one of those when I was younger. Then my sister took it and broke it and my parents refused to get me a new one.”

“Watch the TV again,” you direct Alexia.

“You know, this is the most staged unstaged photoshoot ever,” Alexia jokes, though she does as instructed and turns her attention back to the television.

“Are you this mouthy with other photographers too?”

“No,” Alexia says, glancing up at you with a smile just starting to creep onto her face. “Only you get this honour.”

With the Polaroid camera in your hands, you point it at Alexia and get a quick photo of her mid-smirk.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready!” she protests, as the camera spits out the undeveloped picture.

“Exactly, that’s the whole point.”

You round the coffee table and sit down beside Alexia on the couch on the side not occupied by Nala as you wait for the photo to develop. The picture slowly appears, of Alexia caught slightly off-guard in a half smile, her gaze fixed at something behind the camera. She’s looking at you, you realise, and you stare at the photo in awe as it finishes coming into focus. It’s like you’re holding a tiny piece of your friendship in your hands, the picture capturing that bond between you more than it captures Alexia herself.

Alexia must see that too, because she asks, “Do I always look at you like that?”

“Like what?”

The silence between you is tense. It feels like the air in the room could ignite, though whether it’ll be a fire of passion or a flaming inferno of destruction is still yet to be decided.

“Never mind,” Alexia says, shutting down the conversation but leaving your curiosity piqued. “It’s my turn.”

Alexia reaches for the camera, but you hold it out of her reach.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on,” Alexia pleads, leaning across your lap and plucking the camera from your outstretched hand. “You had to know I’d ask at some point. I’m your apprentice after all.”

“I only have limited film for this camera,” you try to make excuses. “We can’t waste it.”

“Then a selfie,” Alexia says, flipping the camera around so that the lens points at you both. “So we’re both in it.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, a selfie is the opposite of a photoshoot,” she pleads with you, lifting the camera and stretching out her arm.

You turn your head to look at her, and whine, “Alexia…”

You hear the click of the camera and know she’s probably caught you at your worst, payback for all the photos you’ve taken of her over the last few months. Satisfied with her actions, Alexia lets you take back your camera but keeps the newest photo as it develops, maybe scared you’re going to rip up her latest attempt at photography if you don’t like the result.

The image finally comes into focus and you look at it as she holds it.

It’s raw in a similar kind of way to the one you took of her. The angle of the selfie and the lack of a front facing camera to aid means that only three quarters of Alexia’s face is in view, but while she’s smiling at the camera, the image of you is a side profile because you’re looking at Alexia with a look of what can only be described as adoration in your eyes.

You suddenly realise what the question she asked earlier meant.

“Do I always look at you like that?”

“Like what?” Alexia parrots your earlier question back to you.

Feeling bolder than perhaps she was, you respond breathlessly, “Like I want to kiss you.”

You hear Alexia’s breath catch in her throat, before she answers, “Sometimes. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

Though you’re almost certain you know what she’s asking, you need to hear her say it.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Sometimes,” you answer just as elusively as she did.

“How about now?”

You really do. Alexia is right there, it would be so easy to lean across and close the gap. And here, alone in Alexia’s apartment with only Nala as your witness, is the most privacy you’ve had since you found yourselves in a hotel room in Ibiza five years ago.

But something is nagging you at the back of your mind, telling you that this isn’t a good idea. Your thoughts are clouded by Alexia’s proximity and you need a clear mind to decide if you’re willing to put it all at risk for a chance at happiness.

“Alexia,” you start. “I…”

I like you, is what you should say. I want to kiss you. I want to be with you.

But what you actually end up saying is, “I should go home.”

“Fuck,” Alexia says, panic in her eyes. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. Forget I said anything.”

“No, it’s fine!” you’re quick to say. “I’ve just … got a lot to do tomorrow. I should get back home.”

You get to your feet and start to collect your photography equipment, busying yourself with that to avoid having to look Alexia in the eye. You don’t know what you might do, what mistakes you might make, if you allow yourself even a second to look at her.

“Did I do something wrong?” Alexia asks. “Did I take it too far?”

“No,” you try to tell Alexia. “You did nothing wrong. It’s all on me. My head’s a mess. I promise it’s not your fault.”

“You really don’t have to go,” Alexia says. “We can watch another episode. I promise I won’t do anything, or say anything, to make it weird.”

The problem is that it’s not Alexia that you don’t trust not to make it weird.

Do you want to kiss me?

Alexia’s words echo in your ears and your brain is screaming that yes, you do want to kiss her. And you’re not a hundred percent certain, but you get the feeling that Alexia probably wouldn’t push you off her if you did.

What if you said fuck it to your inhibitions and let yourself indulge? Would it really be so bad after all?

The temptation to make a mistake you might never come back from is too great if you stay.

As you stand by Alexia’s front door, camera bag slung over your shoulder, you have no idea how to say goodbye. But the hesitation gives you time to think, time to let your eyes drop to Alexia’s mouth and wonder again about kissing her.

What if…?

No. You can’t.

To stop yourself from at least attempting to kiss Alexia, you step into her personal space and give her a quick one-armed hug, too long to be fleeting but not long enough to actually mean anything.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? At Camp Nou?”

Alexia nods, her expression impossible to read.

“See you tomorrow,” she replies.

You can’t get out of Alexia’s apartment fast enough.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #strictly unprofessional

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