#[I had to go to a dark place to write this]

[jamminvroomvroom]

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 1

LN x fem!leclerc reader

part 1 of 2 -> find part two linked HERE!

in which you just can’t help yourself and neither can lando…

I’M BACK BITCHES!!!! hi sorry it’s been a while but we are back with what i hope is a bang lol. i’ve missed writing so much and as stressful as this was, i’m so so glad to be uploading something! i worked hard on this one and, of course, now i hate it whoops, but my girlie @lavenderlando made this possible and worth it. that’s my hype woman fr fr. N E WAY enjoy! lemme know what you think, and use some imagination for the timeline…

songs to set the vibe: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams, 2hands by tate mcrae, love in the dark by adele, illicit affairs by taylor swift, think twice by suki waterhouse

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!),

part 1: 10.3k words

1. oncoming traffic 

“hey, osc, who’s that girl hanging around leclerc? thought he was still with alex.” lando tries his best to sound nonchalant, but oscar can see through him like a freshly buffed window, the way lando clears his throat and nervously ruffles his unruly hair. 

“mate, i know you’re not the sharpest but i didn’t think you were that slow.” oscar laughs, side-eyeing the brit. he was baffled that lando was even asking. lando just shoots him a glare. “wait, you really don’t know?” lando’s glare hardens further, his eyes demanding an answer and oscar just laughs. “that’s his sister, you idiot. how have you never seen her?” 

lando didn’t know how he’d never seen her. this year had been nonstop, what with the pseudo-championship battle and the never ending media shitstorm that rained on him whenever he reared his head. he’d also learned in his years of racing never to look too closely at the women in another drivers entourage. that’s how you ended up in the wall during a race. but charles’ sister? how had he never noticed? 

“maybe i should go and introduce myself.” lando trailed off thoughtfully, his voice remaining playful. oscar snorted beside him, adjusting his racesuit. 

“ooh, yeah, send twitter into a frenzy. it’s been boring lately.” the aussie driver drawls sarcastically, successfully dodging lando’s rapidly approaching elbow to his ribs. 

“glad to know that you take pleasure in my never ending public humiliation!” lando grins maniacally, sauntering out of the garage, no longer any intention of seeking out the pretty girl in the short, black skirt. it was for the best. 

he’s passing through the pit box, immersed in a groupchat thread with max and p about a trip to portugal that he didn’t really want to go on, and bam! like the idiot oscar had just accused him of being, he slams blindly into oncoming traffic. 

oncoming traffic: the pretty girl in the short, black skirt.

“are you incapable of looking where you’re going?” your accent comes out thick, low with rage. it tickles his brain, like he’s heard it before. lando opens his mouth, like a fish out of water, closes it again pathetically. “seriously, for a pilot you have abysmal spacial awareness!” 

“sorry… what the fuck.” lando mutters. why is this woman shouting at him like she knows him? like he regularly barrels into her? 

“lando, yes?” you’ve calmed down a bit now, but you still speak through gritted teeth. 

“…yes?” he replies like he’s not so sure. 

“learn to look where you’re going.” you wrinkle your nose, composing yourself before stepping around him and strutting down the pitlane as if nothing had happened. 

lando stands there, fixed in place, watching her walk away in utter confusion. 

“smooth!” oscar calls from inside the garage, flanked by several laughing mechanics. 

“go fuck yourself!” lando’s flushed red, now, and beeline’s for the pit wall. 

he’s out of earshot when oscar says it. 

“think he just met his wife, boys.” 

-

lando is staring at the data on the screen when it hits him, will’s voice somewhere far away all of the sudden. 

the mysterious leclerc had every right to reprimand him, because she was right. he did need to learn how to look where he’s going. 

she’d told him that already, during their actual first meeting. 

-

2. the first collision 

the music was too loud, suffocating him along with the overbearing smell of cheap perfume, but the alcohol in his system and the outpouring of validation kept lando going. 

three time race winner, lando norris. 

five years of clawing back points and grabbing at podiums with two impatient hands had built up to this, to the incomparable glory of gracing that prestigious top step, and lando wasn’t about to let go of this moment just because of a pressing headache. max and pietra were waiting for him in a booth, surrounded by the rest of lando’s touring entourage. he was wracking up quite the tab, but it was all worth it. every slap on the back, seductive grin sent his way, made it worth it. 

he’s stumbling over his feet, wasted, or close to it, grinning lazily, peering through hooded eyes. the vodka cranberry in his hand is sloshing dangerously around in the glass, his careless movements propelling him towards disaster. 

lando hears the splatter of liquid, first, the scoff of disgust immediately after. long hair whips against his face as she turns, eyes wide with fury, set into a face that was never meant to look angry. he can smell vanilla, flowers. she’s an angel, turned devilish under the strobe lights, her delicate face morphing when he takes in the sight of him. 

“are you fucking serious? mon dieu!” her accent twists his tummy, as does the increasingly see-through material of her tight white dress, layers of chiffon turning transparent with the stark red liquid. it’s all over her back, running slowly down the length of her exposed thighs, sticky. lando stands there, utterly transfixed and useless. she looks like she might slap him; he kind of wants her to. “of course, just stand there. fucking pilots.” 

she mutters the last part and lando gulps. what does she know about other drivers? the implication makes his skin crawl for no reason, the idea of this nameless, mystery woman being familiar with his co-workers. he’s flushed with embarrassment for a multitude of reasons, opening his mouth just to close it again. 

“‘m sorry!” he finally calls out to her, over the music. can the dj turn that shit down? “can i buy you a drink?” she just glares at him, gesturing at her ruined dress. “or… a new dress?” lando tries again, flashing what he hopes are puppy dog eyes. 

he wants to take her back to his hotel room, lick the sweet liquid off of her frame, lap at her til she’s clean and crying. he wants to peel the stained white material off, tear it a little - it’s already ruined anyway! he can’t, though, because she’s wrinkling her nose at him, eyebrow raised, judging, and he’s awash with embarrassment all over again. the club spins and he feels nauseous. he finds max’s eyes on him, his friend stifling laughter at the tragic scene. 

she’s gone when he looks back, seems to have disappeared into a cloud of distinctly expensive perfume, and her friends are curling their lips up at him, dismissive. they don’t care who he is. he wonders if they’re redbull fans, ferrari fans, perhaps. 

he’s met with hoots of laughter as he slumps into the booth. he grabs a shot without a thought, doesn’t even register what liquor it is as it slides down his thick throat. 

“can’t believe you just did that. only you would spill a drink all over leclerc’s sister.” max teases, elbowing him playfully. 

“wha- he has a sister?” lando slurs, spluttering. 

he doesn’t remember much after that. 

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and others.

youruser: shoutout to the guy that spilled his drink all over me!

francisca.cgomes: so beautiful so slay i miss u already

alexandrasaintmleux: love you!!!

charles_leclerc: delete this 🤦‍♂️

and other comments.

-

3. the watchful eyes of the big, black horse 

your arm is linked with kika’s, giggling with her as you walk through the paddock. 

“what about him?” kika whispers, pointing her chin towards one of the passing alpine mechanics. he’s blonde, pale, eyes dark.  “pierre said he heard that he’s good with the ladies.” she wiggles her eyebrows and your cheeks heat up, swatting her playfully. 

“i am not about to get a reputation for sleeping my way through the paddock.” you scoff. “plus, he’s not my type.” you shrug. 

“you need to start putting yourself out there more, you keep saying you want someone.” the portuguese girl reasons. you nod sheepishly. 

“i don’t wanna look for something, i want it to find me. is that pathetic? i just see how you are with pierre, how alex is with charles, and that’s what i want. something… real.” you sigh. kika sees the way your eyes gloss over with sadness. 

“it’s never as easy and as perfect as it looks, babe, trust me. and anyway, maybe just focus on… the thing you were telling me about.” kika lowers her voice, giving you the look.

“shut up!” you squeal. “god, i am not discussing that here!” 

“discussing what?” you hear pierre before you see him, hot with embarrassment. you’ve know him since before you could even walk, which is why you have no problem voicing your deepest, darkest shame. 

“how i’m not getting laid, apparently!” you drawl sarcastically, slapping your hand over your forehead. 

a poorly concealed laugh that you don’t recognise has you whipping around, eyes wide with bewilderment. it’s hearty, smooth, surprisingly warming. you practically growl when your eyes land on the source of the noise, standing next to pierre who looks embarrassed for you, his lips pressed thinly together to prevent himself from cackling. 

“why is he here?” you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes so tightly shut that you feel a pang in your temples. 

“as polite as ever.” lando smirks. you open

your eyes just in time to catch him eyeing up the skin of your thighs that your skirt doesn’t quite cover. is he checking you out? 

“says the drink spiller.” you bite back, rolling your eyes. 

“hey, i tried to pay for the damage.” lando looks utterly amused, pink lips still twisted into a punch-worthy smirk. 

“so, you’ve met lando, then.” pierre grins, staring between you both. you don’t register the way he’s trading looks with kika, watching whatever this scene is unfold. 

“unfortunately!” you smile tightly at the racing drivers. 

“pretty sure you walked into me that second time. distracting me in the workplace, or something.” lando chimes in, enjoying this all a bit too much. 

“if you did a better job at looking where you’re going-“ 

“okay, so this has been delightful!” pierre buts in, knowing that you have the shortest temper of all the leclerc offspring. “you,” he points at you. “get laid. you,” he points at lando. “don’t piss her off, you won’t like the result.”

kika can only send you a sympathetic smile, and remind you of the coffee date you have scheduled for tomorrow morning, as she’s dragged away from your place of social suicide. pierre winks, tilts his head far too pointedly for your liking towards lando. you fantasise, in that moment, of clawing his eyes out. 

“i am sorry, for the record.” lando smiles at you, genuine and gleaming. something inside of you twists. 

“for which time?” you’re just teasing now, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“you have quite the attitude on you. that why you’re not getting any?”

you’re about to rip his head off and give max an even easier ride towards the championship, but lando steps forward. you can smell old spice, tangy and alluring and masculine. 

“how fucking dare you-“ 

“because most men don’t know what to do with a woman like you. don’t know how to treat them right.” he’s so confident when he says it, leaning towards you in a way you can only describe as enticingly. 

“oh, and you do?” you scoff, arms crossed. you must remain combative, or else you’ll give in. is this rock bottom?

“i’m free tonight if you wanna find out.” 

“i’ll be far too busy doing literally anything else.” you can only pray he hasn’t caught the tremble in your voice, the ever so slight quiver of you bottom lip. you chew it into your mouth to stop yourself. 

“but not anyone else.” lando doesn’t pose it as a question. it seems that he’s got you all figured out. 

“whatever helps you and your hand sleep well tonight.” you spit. there’s heat between you, sparking into a flame that could burn down your whole life. you feel eyes burning into the back of your head - green ones that match yours. you falter. “i’m done here, lando. have a fantastic evening.” 

he takes another liberty, leaning in even closer. spearmint and the idea of a million bad choices flood your every pore. you can feel the big, black horse watching over you, now, set into bright yellow, adorned with ferrari red. looming, warning, turning you in. 

“you know, something tells me i will.” 

lando disappears first, not even giving you a chance you spin on your heel and storm off. you want to kill him, hurt him, sink your teeth into that bronzed, thick throat, claw into his back, down, down, down… until you’re on your knees and- 

“why were you talking to lando?” charles’ voice cuts through your filthy thoughts and you sign yourself over to god immediately, purifying yourself as you banish the visions of delicious sin. after all, you’re standing in the presence of il predestinato, the prince of monaco, a saint to many. but to you, he’s just your brother. your big brother, always in the way, always meddling, always, always watching. you sigh. 

“friendly conversation.” you quip, short. you love him dearly, would take bullets for him, but, god, he keeps you on a leash. leo’s has more give than the conceptual tether charles has to you, keeping you close, boyfriendless, out of “trouble”. you know why, and deep down, you’re beyond grateful, all things considered. you can’t admit that, though. 

“that’s not how pierre described it to me.” charles raises an eyebrow, voice bitter despite the clear attempt he’s made to try and hide it. 

“fucking pierre.” you grunt. “it’s nothing, he came over with pierre. i was with kika. first time i’ve ever even had a conversation with lando.” that didn’t result from a drink being spilt over you to the point of transparency. you leave that bit out - charles really doesn’t need to know that. 

charles mulls over your words, eyeing you suspiciously. you want to stomp your heeled foot like a child, a brat, scream and shout and kick and wail that he has to back the fuck off eventually, but you just smile innocently and pray he believes you. 

“okay,” he mutters, making his peace. “i don’t want you getting too… familiar with him. bad reputation. he used to be quite sweet until his last breakup and now he will fuck anything with a pulse.” you wrinkle your nose at your brothers crude words, feeling the need to jump in and object. but why? you don’t know lando, you don’t care about lando. you press your lips into a thin, painful line. “you should go back to the hotel with alex. looks like i’ll be here late.” he rolls his eyes, you know how it is. 

“sure, good luck.” you offer, smothering the rage that pools in your belly. let me fucking live, you think. just because he’d had to swoop in and save you from yourself once before, didn’t mean that you could live like this forever. 

he has lit a spark under you, one that spreads like a wildfire towards the flame that lando ignited minutes before. if only your brother knew how to keep his big mouth shut, you wouldn’t be spurred on to bad behaviour. 

if only lando hadn’t spilled that drink over you, maybe you wouldn’t be opening his instagram profile and sending a message request. 

a place. your room number. a time. 

you only wish you’d gotten to see the devilish grin on his face when he received it. 

lando can’t want you for the reasons that other guys do. your status as charles leclerc’s little sister, and the gateway to your brother that you provided, meant nothing to the brit. that’s why you’d let him have you; he wouldn’t try to take more than you wanted to give. 

-

4. generous 

the knocks are soft against the door, yet they manage to have every hair on your body standing to attention. you’re quick to let him in, itching to get him inside and away from prying eyes. this is clandestine, secret, could even feel somewhat sacred once it’s over, and the last possible thing you could ever need is for another soul to know what you intend to do with lando, what you intend to let him do to you. 

“hey.” 

“hi.” 

you stare at each other. 

he steps forward. you don’t move away. he takes it as an invitation to close the space entirely, so close that, there it is again: oldspice, except this time it’s mixed with something fresh, shower gel you guess, sea salt. his curls are crisper than they were a few hours ago, still damp from the shower he must have just taken. 

“what changed your mind?” he asks. 

“i was feeling generous.” you deadpan. he bites back a laugh. 

“generous, huh?”

“very.” 

“considering your alleged dry spell, i’d say i’m the generous one, no?” his voiced is edged with something dark, dropped a few octaves. you could absolutely squirm under his gaze, but you hold strong. 

“you know where the door is if that’s how you’re gonna be.” you coo, mocking his seductive undercurrent. all he does is flash his teeth, grinning cheekily, his way of accepting your challenge, your attitude. 

“i think you want me to stay, honey.” 

honey. you fear it works on you. the gap closes even further, you fear it’s your doing. 

“you’re only getting this opportunity because i invited you here.” your resolve is slipping. you’ve admitted that you want him in your pathetic bid to hold the power, when the truth is, you want him to pounce on you, strip away every layer and barrier and make you see stars, feel euphoric. 

“okay, honey, whatever you say.” he chuckles, cruel and taunting. “so, how dry of a spell has it been? wanna know what i’m working with.” 

lando touches you then, lightning shooting down your arm as he traces from your elbow down to your fingers, featherlight, barely there, a ghost of a touch that haunts you so deliciously. your fingers intertwine. you initiate it, but really, it’s his fault. this is all his fault.

you try and laugh, but it sounds broken, quivering it’s way out from your dry throat. 

“dry.”

he just stares at you, expectant. he needs to hear more, needs to know. he craves details about you, has ever since you body slammed him outside his garage - leading to some very covert instagram stalking on his behalf and his oh so convenient way of worming his way into a conversation with pierre when lando could see that the other driver was on his way over towards you. it’s pathetic, maybe, but he craves you the way one craves nicotine forever after just one puff of a cigarette. he has you, just for tonight, maybe longer if he gets this right, so he will know everything he needs to know so that he can touch you just how you need. 

“i’ve only… it’s been a while.” 

he sees right through you. 

“you’ve only what?” he presses. he needs to know.

“i’ve only done this once.” you whisper. it’s the meekest he’s seen you. he loathes it. 

“and was it good?” lando murmurs so attentively that you want to cry. 

your fourth interaction with this man, and he has you melting. 

“not really.” 

“do you trust me?” his nose is bumping yours. you’re locked in, twitching. he has both hands on you, now, one still laced with yours, the other trailing up your arm, tempted to brush his fingertips against the taut skin of your neck. 

how the fuck can i trust you? i don’t know you! what the fuck are we doing? what the fuck am i doing?

that’s not what you say, though, because for some reason, you are so sickeningly comfortable and okay that you worry that something is wrong with you. 

“yes.”

“then this time will be so, so much better. i’ll make it all better.” 

when his lips meet yours, you’re surprised at how good it immediately feels. you don’t know what you were expecting, but his lips are plush, enveloping yours softly, but firm enough that you sink into him, allowing him to cement that grip on the side of your neck that he’d been taunting you with. 

he kisses you like he’s sure of everything, like this is second nature and you’ve done it a thousand times. you want to kiss him a thousand times. why it’s so good, you’re not sure, but it gives you the confidence to lean into him, grab the bottom of his hoodie in your hands and tug. 

“be patient, ‘n i’ll make you feel so good, honey, i promise.” he mouths down your cheek, nipping at your jaw, down your neck until he finds that special spot below your ear. he nibbles there, lapping his tongue over your sensitive skin like he already knows your body. you want to see just how familiar with you he can get. “but,” he punctuates the word with a sharp bite. you both dread and revel in the mark it will leave. “you have to behave for me, okay?” 

his words are whispered against the shell of your ear and you shiver, eyes rolled back already. you wonder if he’ll get them to do a full three-sixty rotation in your skull. 

“‘kay.” you breathe, mindless, floating away. it’s already better than last time.

“‘kay’?” he mocks. “no, honey, you gotta promise me. can you promise me?” 

“promise.” you lock eyes, conveying your obedience. his eyes blow wide, pupils dilating to shove away the mysterious bluey green. his teeth grit. he knows he’s hit the jackpot. 

“good girl.” 

you’re stripped naked, mustering all of your energy to shove his clothes off, his hoodie flying away, his sweats kicked into a faraway dark corner. you’re left naked, him in some increasingly tight boxers, and you tumble into the freshly made bed. he slinks over you, crawling on his hands and knees, predator stalking prey. 

he stains your inner thighs purple, tugging your legs over his shoulder, huge hands warm and rough as they manoeuvre your malleable body to his liking. lando presses kisses to every inch of skin, dragging his tongue over your bare flesh before he spreads you open, sucking and tasting and savouring. he moans into you, open and wet, and it ricochets off of every nerve ending, sending your body taut and arched, catlike. you’re trying to get away, whilst simultaneously grinding yourself closed to him, feeling that broad, sharp nose of his bump messily and firmly against your clit, an ache spreading through your pelvis that makes you shake and shake and whine his name out to the gods. 

“taste like heaven.” lando’s words are simple, straightforward, make you bite your lip so hard you taste something metallic seeping over your tongue. “so tight, even around my tongue,” he slurs, drunk, lost. “gotta stretch you out for me. that okay, honey?” you can just about make it all out, and you nod furiously, pleading. 

his teeth graze your clit. 

“say please.” 

“putain! please!” you kick your feet out when all he does is laugh into your wet flesh. 

one finger grazes through your folds, parting them and collecting a mess of your slick. he looks transfixed as it drips down his finger. 

honey.

you watch him watch how he opens you up, revelling in the utter fascination painting his features, pussy drunk and curious, transfixed. 

“can’t believe you’ve never been fucked right.” he coos, breathless, genuinely shocked. you quake under his skilful hands and his awful, sinful, dirty mouth. 

“more.” you plead, not ashamed by your crude begging. you’re a mess for him already, might as well get the full experience. 

“think you can take another?” 

a second finger slides in, rocking against your walls, testing the waters. you writhe, meeting his movements with shallow thrusts of your hips. 

“faster, i need- mon dieu! anything, lando, please just-“ he really goes to town then, scissoring your dripping cunt open, curling and twisting and grinding the two digits so deep that you see white, hazy chocolate coloured curls and deep, glazed over eyes. 

“that’s it, honey, there you go. so fucking pretty for me.” lando whispers the last bit, awestruck, and you’d take the time to wonder why if you weren’t on the verge of tears, overstimulated, ears ringing. your orgasm crashes over you like a surge of electricity, tearing through your body like it’s trying to escape and take cover. it’s so strong that you’re damp everywhere, sweating and crying and so fucking shocked that it can feel like this. 

“lando.” you pant, mouth dry, voice hoarse.  

“you did so good. was it okay?” he rubs small circles into your hips, eyes flitting between your own and where you’re still leaking for him. he manages to tear his eyes away, like a trance has broken, snaking up your body until he’s laying next to you, propped up on his elbow. he hovers over you, raking his eyes over the rising and falling lines of your body. 

“pretty good, i guess. didn’t know you had it in you.” you tease, smirking lazily up at him. 

you want to keep staring at him but your vision is blurring as your eyes begin to droop. what a long day it’s been. 

“high praise coming from you.” lando reasons, laughing lightly. he strokes over your hipbone and you jolt, curling around onto your side. his skin is warm against yours, soft and smooth, and you dare you press your even closer, shy, as if he wasn’t just buried mercilessly between your legs. you hum in response, spent and languid. “you wanna get some sleep?” he asks. 

“we didn’t… i mean, you didn’t…” you trail off, awkward, gesturing towards his middle. 

lando just smiles. 

“guess i’ll just have to come find you in monaco.” 

you flush, cheeks burning as you consider the fact that you’re gonna be in the same country, a very small, very private city. who knows what could happen? 

you fall asleep quickly, easily, far too comfortable next to the british driver. if you were to ask, he’d say he left immediately. he watches the way you breathe far too intently, ever so slowly pulling his clothes back on. he doesn’t know how long passes, but what he does know is that he can’t wait to have you like this again. 

-

5.  some guy 

you sink into the oversized armchair, sitting back and letting kika and alex talk, nattering backwards and forwards about nothing in particular. or, maybe you’re just zoned the fuck out. 

you can’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, your body littered with evidence, dark purple bruises turning a stale green between you thighs. when you woke up, you initially wondered if it was all a dream, but the dull, sweet ache thrumming through your bones told you just how real it really was. you went through the motions, embarrassed momentarily before deciding to just embrace it, try to bask in the way he’d made you feel: sexy and desirable and electric. 

it was just a shame that it had to be him. that’s what you kept telling yourself, at least. 

kika’s nodding along to a story alex is telling about leo, about to respond with a similar anecdote about simba but she gasps instead, almost spilling her americano all over herself. this gets your attention and you open your mouth to ask her is she’s okay, but she beats you to it. 

“my god, what is that?” she chokes, staring at you. or, well, your neck. 

you flush, heated, blood pooling in your cheeks. 

you’d tried to cover it up, seriously, applying layer after layer of concealer and strategically placing your hair in such a way that you prayed it wouldn’t be noticeable, but nonetheless, there it is, clear as day. red raw skin tinged purple around the seams, branded into your neck like some kind of public humiliation ritual. 

fuck you, lando fucking norris!

you avert eye contact, leaning away from alex who is now making a point of leaning in, going as far as to push your hair back so she can get a closer look. 

“oh my gosh!” she squeals, giggling with kika. 

you take a long, slow gulp of coffee, not caring that it burns your tongue. 

“who was it? holy shit, was it lando?” kika whisper shouts and you officially drop dead on the spot, watching her connect the dots so easily. 

“oh jesus, no! no!” you lie, feigning offence, your leg bouncing shamefully under the table. the two girls eye you suspiciously, but you assume you’ve played it off well. 

“who, then?” alex asks. you wonder if kika has told her about yesterdays interaction. 

“just- i don’t even know, some guy.” you huff, playing with a loose thread hanging from your jumper. 

“some guy? after what you were saying yesterday? okay, babe.” kika teases sarcastically. “no, cmon, who?” she pouts, leaning in as well. 

“just… someone.” you squeak, unable to look up at them. 

“okay, well, we will find out eventually.” alex wiggles her eyebrows and you stick your tongue out, mock-glaring at your sister in law. 

“no, the fuck you won’t.” you try and fake some confidence, scrapping for a mere shred of control. 

yes, the fuck they will, because when you leave for the bathroom, you leave your phone unlocked like the utter fool you are. god has it out for you, you figure, because that’s when he chooses to strike. 

the message lando sends you is short and sweet, and alex chokes on a piece of cake when kika starts gesturing wildly at the notification that pops up on your screen. 

for when you’re lonely at home and can’t find anyone to fuck you right.

attached is his address. 

they don’t breathe a word when you come back, but they share a knowing smirk when they catch you smiling at your phone, and again when you ask if either of them have anything with a higher neckline that you can wear for the race. 

youruser has just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and others

youruser: race day, big slay

user1: LEO!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: prettiest girl in the world

user45: lando what are you doing here 🤔

6.    manners

“are you even listening to me right now?” charles scoffs, finishing off his drink out of annoyance. your eyes snap back to him, the thumping music vibrating through your body. 

“sorry, just tipsy.” you purse your lips, attempting to lock back in on whatever he’s saying, but it’s hard. it’s hard, because sprawled out in a booth across from where you stand at the bar, lando is watching your every move. 

you’ve managed to avoid him thus far, no contact since you’d liked the DM he’d sent you a few weeks back. you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t think of him and what you’d done at literally every waking moment, so the way he’s watching you, hooded eyes sparkling under the strobe lights, has you squirming. it was easier to tell yourself that, surely, it wasn’t that good when he wasn’t right in front of you in a half unbuttoned shirt. the navy blue fabric is wrapped around his body deliciously, taut where his muscles are, the colour popping against his tanned skin - which you can practically feel writhing against yours. 

you wish charles would go away so you could crawl into that booth and commit public indecency. 

speak of the devil, your brother seems to have clocked that you have zero interest in what he has to say so he huffs, ordering another round for the table and telling you he’s going to find alex. he shuffles away and you subtly search for the british drivers mindful eyes, but he’s disappeared, left his entourage in the booth. you swallow disappointment that makes you feel pathetic, head in your hands against the bar top, but the lightest brush of fingers against your waist drags you out of your spiral. you know immediately. 

“did you dress like that for me, or are you just a slut?” he’s grinning, light and teasing, surprisingly sober, tipsy at most, just like you. 

“i could ask you the same.” you smirk, blatantly eyeing his exposed chest. he shrugs, leaning in. 

”might have left an extra button undone just for you.” lando winks and you hope the lights hide the way you flush. 

“sure you did, just for me and every other girl in here.” you challenge. his eyebrows furrow. 

“nope. just for you.” his eyes darken, just a tad but enough that you notice. your mouth runs dry. “you never replied to me.” 

“not true, i liked the message.” you smile coyly, sipping your drink. your lipstick smears against the rim of the glass and you watch him stare at the print, tongue wetting his lips. 

“you are something else.” he shakes his head, pushing his curls back. it could be frustration, but he still seems at ease, like he’s enjoying your combative nature. you smile into the glass, hoping he doesn’t notice. he does. “how much have you had to drink?” 

“this is my second.” 

“you sober enough for me to take you home?” lando’s face is mere inches away from yours now, and you can feel the pull, desperate to crawl into the space that still remains and lose yourself there. 

“depends.” 

“on?” you truly exasperate him, but he thinks he loves it. 

“if you’re actually gonna fuck me this time.” you casually take another sip, playing it off as if your crude words had no impact on you. 

lando’s eyes widen at your bluntness, and so does his grin. 

“meet me by the valet.” 

lando leaves, and you quickly follow, downing the remnants of your glass and touching up your lipgloss. 

-

alex watches from her booth, and pulls out her phone. 

to: kika gomes 

oh, she’s deeeeefinitely sleeping with lando!!!  

-

pietra leans towards her boyfriend, close enough that he can hear her over the noise. 

“isn’t that charles’ sister?” she shouts, pointing to the bar, where lando is stood. 

max analyses the way he’s stood, leant  against the bar, nice and close to the ferrari drivers little sister. he knows that look on lando’s face, and he knows it far too well. max pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“oh for fuck sake.” 

-

it’s weird, sitting with him in silence. he’s only had half a drink, able to drive back through the winding hills to his apartment. you stare out the window, mostly, when you aren’t staring blatantly and curiously at lando. you can see the sea, glistening under the moonlight and you wish you could focus on that instead, but he’s there, and you have to admit - begrudgingly, albeit - that he’s stunning. his hands wrap around the wheel tauntingly, as if he’s trying to convey how he’ll touch you, all consumingly. your thighs press together, your fingers clasping together as if you’re subconsciously stopping yourself from reaching out for him prematurely. 

as if he can hear your thoughts, his palm smoothes over the skin of your bare thigh, right where your dress has ridden up, without a second thought, nothing tentative about the way his digits curve around your skin. 

“so, you’ve been thinking about that night, then?” he breaks the silence, glancing over at you. 

“what makes you say that?” you whisper, not even meaning to but the silence had been so heavy. 

“well, you only left with me on the condition i’d bend you over.” he laughs loud, whole and warm. you fight it, just for a second, but then you join in, giving in to him. you can’t help it, he makes it easy. 

“you got me.” you concede, rolling your eyes. without realising it, you’ve relaxed completely into his touch. 

he pulls off of the road and into a private garage. you breath hitches.

-

“do you want a drink or…?” lando gestures blindly towards his kitchen, walking further into the apartment. 

he’d spent the elevator ride up to his place leant against the opposite wall, taunting, making you wait. he’d let himself look at you, totally unabashedly, raking his eyes over your frame, meekly tucked into the corner, shy under his intense gaze but frustrated by his lack of urgency. 

“i’m good. didn’t come here for a tea party.” you hope your words push his buttons. they must, because he turns on his heel, facing you again, suddenly towering over you. 

his eyes are steel, face serious, and you don’t know what to do. you’ve never seen him look at you like this. 

“i think we need to work on your manners.” he speaks condescendingly, down at you, and if you weren’t so needy, hadn’t been waiting weeks, you’d turn around and leave just to really prove his point. but you stay planted, looking up at him through mascara coated lashes, softening you gaze until you’re sure you’re conveying faux innocence. 

“maybe we can work on them in your bedroom.” you truly don’t know where you get this confidence from, he’s the second man to have ever touched you so intimately, but he’s magnetic, drawing you out of your own head and straight towards him. 

he tugs you towards him, kissing you messily, right there in the dim light of his kitchen, pawing at your waist hungrily. his tongue brushes your and you moan, humming into his mouth at the faint taste of mint and vodka, long gone but you can taste everything. his thick fingers find your ass, hoisting you up until you have no option but to wrap your legs around him, your dress scratching at your thighs the higher it rides up, but all it does it turn you on more, rough sensations on sensitive skin. 

lando walks you blindly to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss, and you wonder how many times he’s done this to get it down to muscle memory. the thought makes you nauseous, drags you mercilessly right back into your head, and you pull away, your lips barely brushing his. 

“why me?” you breathe, panting into the shallow space where your mouths have parted.

“what?” he whispers, confused. 

“why do you want to do this with me?” you have to check, past insecurities rising to the surface like bile in the back of your throat. he looks genuinely baffled and you feel foolish for ruining the moment. 

“why wouldn’t i? you’re gorgeous and-“ he cuts himself off, his eyes glazing over. the demeanour slips and you’re stuck, his arms still tight around you, holding you close in the empty space at the foot of his bed. 

“what?” you whisper. 

“you’re part of the same life.” the way he looks at you says words that he can’t. 

words that will sound too shallow and too selfish and too meaningless, even though you will understand them because you’re here for similar reasons, and therefore, they will mean too much. 

you can’t take things from him. you can’t fake it. you can’t break him into a million pieces when he finally discovers that you want him because of what he can give you.

you nod once, firm.  

“i get it.” you smile sadly. lando wants to know more. he can find out some other time. a moment of clarity passes between you. “kiss me, again?” you ask. he delivers immediately. 

kisses you all the way onto the bed. kisses you while he helps you take off your heels, while he drags the zipper of your dress down. you both feel safe now, understood, and that really moves things along. 

“so pretty.” he mutters into your skin, shedding you of your tight dress. 

your shaky fingers work over the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off of his broad shoulders, taking in the sight of him all over again. you’re left in your panties, braless already, and he gawks down at you, like he’s seeing everything for the first time. it makes you feel powerful. 

“can you hurry up?” you writhe, arching into his touch. he smiles, covering his body with yours and pressing a kiss to your lips. his fingers slide over the curves of your body, finding the band of your underwear and toying with it. 

“want me to take them off?” he purrs, trailing his lips down your jaw to just below your ear. 

“now.” you beg, eyes fluttering closed as his warm breath pricks at your skin, teeth nibbling. “no marks.” you whine, flashing back to the weeks over knowing looks and attempts at covering the last one up. 

“what were we saying about manners, hm? gonna need to start hearing some ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’, okay, honey?” he bites down again, harder this time, and you squirm underneath him, your soft belly moulding to each dip of his abs.

his fingers dip into your panties, finding your clit amongst your wetness. you just about bite back a moan, but you can’t help but roll your hips into his hand, his fingertips gliding easily through your folds. 

“va te faire foutre.” you mutter, teeth gritting at the pleasure and his words. go fuck yourself.

“i’ve lived in monaco long enough to know what that means.” lando whispers, pinching your clit once before plunging a finger inside of you. 

you hiss, head thrown back, the feeling of him smiling against the hickey bittersweet. and to think, it was almost healed. you can’t help but keen into his touch. 

“more,” you pant. “please.”

“you learn fast.” lando approves, and quickly fulfils your request, adding another finger. 

they flex inside of you, grinding deeper and deeper until you’re whimpering his name and leaking down his wrist. your arms wrap around him, nails digging in to his smooth back, his ropey muscles tensing under your firm touch. his thumb bumps your clit, over and over, pushing you to the precipice, so close you can taste the impending orgasm on your tongue. 

“it’s so good, merci, god.” you sound wrecked already, and lando can’t wait to see how far he can push, how far apart he can take you.  

“that other fucking loser didn’t know what he had, jesus, you’re so fucking hot.” he rasps, admiring the rise and fall of your chest, how your breasts bounce with every thrust of his fingers, the way his hand is glistening in the low light of his bedroom. his words are your undoing, the awe in his voice sending sparks shooting through every nerve ending. 

“lando, ‘m gonna… putain!” the way you switch languages is sexy to him, tells him how scrambled your brain is, and he twitches in his boxers. when you cum, it’s as gorgeous and as enticing as the first time, and he jolts against your hip, desperate to get inside of you finally. 

“you’re so beautiful.” he groans, pulling his fingers from your entrance. he stares blindly at the mess you’ve made on them, salivating, remembering the way you taste. it’s a no brainer for him, and he licks both digits clean, giving you just a moment to recover. 

“i need you.” you whisper, your legs still spread, quivering slightly. 

you pull him in once more, his covered crotch grinding against your slick and you cry out, the friction sending you into overdrive. his teeth dig into your shoulder, the sensation entrapping him, leaving him weak, ready to give you whatever you ask. he pushes his underwear away, and your eyes go wide. 

“you can have me,” he grunts, running his hand over himself. “think you can take it?” he wets his lips and you think you could cum again at the sight of him. sweat slicked, tight curls falling over his eyes, lips licked pink and kiss swollen, hard and heavy in his own hand, body curved over yours possessively. you’re a simple woman, really. 

“i think i can try.” you want to sound confident, but it comes out as a squeak. 

he sits back on his knees and brings his free hand to cup your jaw. 

“i’ll go slow with you, honey, okay? you can tell me to stop.” lando promises. “you sure you want this?” 

you nod, pouting up at him. 

“i want you, i can take it.” you manage through a deep breath. 

the stretch is brutal, splitting you in half. all you can do is breathe, watching the way he watches you, and that’s what you hone in on, his pretty eyes watching where he’s filling you up. when he bottoms out, he stops for a second, scanning your face for discomfort. 

“are you okay?” 

“c’mere.” you coo, and he falls back over you, paws at your waist. “move, lando.” you plead. 

it’s slow, deep, makes your toes tingle. you can feel each and every drag of him against your walls and it makes you dizzy, a knot twisting and tickling in your belly. your fingers are twisted around him, around his biceps, crumbling a little bit every time he flexes in your grip. 

“oh, mon dieu.” you’re whimpering, legs wrapping around him like vines, tighter and tighter with every buck of his hips. 

“‘s it feel good, honey? yeah? you’re so fucking tight for me.” lando chokes, licking over the sweat on your collarbone. “‘m i making it feel good?” he sounds so cocky, sexy, but there’s a soft edge around his words. it matters to him, how he’s treating you, this, a certain delicateness hanging around your intertwined bodies like a cloud. 

“so good, lando, so fucking good.” the words scratch your throat raw, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. 

“no, no, lemme hear you, pretty girl. can feel how close you are for me.” you can hear the edge to his voice, can tell the end is near for both of you, the way his words wobble despite his best attempts at hiding it. “need you to look at me, and i need to hear you.” 

you don’t even realise until then that your eyes are shut, screwed up tight as the pleasure rolls through your body, flooding each and every one of your senses. you free your lip, and everything pours out, whines, raw slurs of his name. 

“i’m so close.” he grunts, watching the way your face moves, hanging on to every micro expression, the way you battle to keep all of your attention on him. 

“fill me up.” you urge, squeezing his hips between your thighs. his eyes widen, the request slowly registering, and he blinks away the voice in his head telling him to do it. 

“you know i can’t.” he’s firm, sensible even if you aren’t. 

“want it so bad, lan, please, wanna feel it.” you reason, cupping his face and pushing his curls back. 

“not tonight.”

“yes, tonight. give it to me.”

“i said no, don’t be a fucking brat.” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“know you want it.” you whisper, seductive and devious. you can see his resolve slipping, tightening around him. 

before you can say anything else, your hands are scooped up, pinned above your head. he’s right over you now, your hips perfectly aligned, and he’s driving so deep that you swear you can feel him in your tummy. his thrusts resort to a harsh grind, digging into each other with every snap of his pelvis. 

“you want it so bad? huh? fine.” he growls, forehead resting against yours. “want me to cum in you, fuck it all back in? yeah, honey? you gonna keep it all in for me?”

“whatever you want.” you promise, eyes rolling back in your head. “just- please, please do it.” you pant, mouth dry. 

“that’s it, pretty girl, take it all for me.” he buries his face in your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “doing so good.” the words fan against your throat, hushed, leaving you warm from the inside out, brainless. 

when you spill around him, it’s at the same time as he lets go, and he fucks you through your orgasms. you go limp beneath him, taking it, letting it all wash over you, letting him wash all over you. you feel like you can’t breathe, suffocating under the weight of him and the reality of what you’ve just done. again. for some reason, you don’t care, and decide that you’ll do this again and again, anytime he’ll have you. not that you’ll ever tell him that… 

“fuck.” he exhales, rolling off of you carefully, but the overstimulation - and then lack thereof - makes you wince, and he strokes your hip gently in apology. 

“that was better than i thought it would be.” you grin, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“you know, these are starting to sound kinda backhanded.” he beams, laughing breathlessly, but just as he begins to relax into his bedspread, he remembers. “oh fuck, shit, we need a pharmacy!” lando bolts up so that he’s sitting, scanning the room blindly for his clothes. you giggle and he snaps his head towards you, panicked. 

“no, lando, we don’t.” 

“all of that ‘uh, fill me up, please lando you’re so sexy’ talk means that, yes we absolutely do! fuck, how much is plan b these days?” he’s spiralling now, tugging at his curls. 

“first of all, i’m on birth control. second of all, i don’t sound like that, and most importantly, i did not call you sexy.” you smirk, stretching out your tight muscles. 

“that’s the most important part? woman, you nearly killed me.” lando gasps, slumping back down into bed. 

“‘m sorry, couldn’t resist playing with you a little. good to know we share a kink, though.” your smirk turns into a coy smile, and you swing your shaky legs out of the bed, your feet sinking into the plush rug. 

“oh, yeah? what other kinks are you hiding from me?” lando sits back against the headboard, tucking his hands behind his bed. you have to look away, or else you’ll accidentally fall back into his bed. 

“guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” it makes him quirk an eyebrow, a look of understanding settling over his face. 

“so this is gonna be a regular thing, yeah?” 

you’re putting your underwear back on when he says it, searching for your dress, but his words make you freeze. he sounds hopeful, and it makes your chest pang… wait, is that your heart?

“i don’t… i mean, as you unfortunately know, i haven’t done this before. i don’t know how this works.” you say it so earnestly, so innocently, that his whole face softens, awestruck and boyish. 

“i want it to be a regular thing.” he says it gently, like he’s offering it to you, to the universe. 

“okay. me too.” you whisper back, shy under his gaze. 

“are you… like, do you think you’ll be sleeping with other people?” lando squeaks, doing a terrible job of playing it cool. 

“for so many reasons, no.” you grimace. “but if we’re doing this then i wouldn’t want to anyway.” you say softly. your dress is back on now, but he has you flustered, and you can’t quite get the zipper. 

“lemme help.” he offers, and he’s out of bed and before you in a matter of seconds. his calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls the zipper together and up, adjusting your dress back into place. it feels so terrifyingly intimate, exciting, and you can’t bring yourself to move away. “i wouldn’t want to either.” he breathes the words quietly into the small space between you. 

“okay.” you don’t even try to hide the way you beam, staring up at him. 

“i’ll take you home, yeah?” 

“yeah.”

-

7.  worth it

and so, begins a clandestine affair, touches in the shadows, subtle glances, watchful eyes. 

one of you calls, the other comes, sneaking through doors that neither of you should enter, leaving bars a few minutes apart, making up excuses to get out of plans. 

there’s the time lando has you bent over the end of your bed, tears leaking into the mattress, slick everywhere. he’s so deep this way, hammering away at the special spot nestled within you that he’s become very familiar with. one of his hands is dragging your hips back to meet his thrusts, the other splayed out across your back, holding you down. 

your phone rings. it’s alex. you were supposed to be a brunch twenty minutes ago. you groan out, frustrated in every sense of the word. 

“answer it, honey.” lando grunts, pulling you towards him even harder. you whimper, shaking your head, words dying on your tongue. “go on, i know you can do it. wouldn’t want alex to worry, would you? let her know you’re okay.” he coos, condescending. 

he’s so arrogant, full of it, and you like the challenge. you can’t let him win, can’t let him revel in how fucked out he has you, so against your better judgement, you grab the phone, fingers shaking as you answer. 

“hi, love. i know, i’m late! ‘m sorry, i’ll be there soon!” you wince at the way your voice shakes. you hope she can’t hear the way you’re panting, or the sound of his hips hitting yours. 

lando slows his hips, hitting deep at such a torturously slow pace that feels a million times better than it already did. your free hand flies back, swatting at him. 

“where the hell are you? i was worried!” alex sounds relieved, but there’s something else in her tone that you can’t quite decipher. 

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.” you lie, throwing your younger brother into the line of fire. you know, for credibility. alex is silent for a moment. 

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” and with that, she hangs up the phone. you release a breath you were holding, crying out when lando immediately speeds up again. 

“i hate you.” you choke, grinding your hips into him. lando just scoffs, sliding a hand under your belly, flush against the mattress. he finds your clit, playing with it, urging you quickly towards your release. 

“no, you don’t.” he laughs. “you better cum for me, pretty girl, i think you have somewhere to be.” 

-

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.”

alex has to bite back a laugh. she stares across the table, where arthur is having an avid debate with charles and joris. arthur, who had been with her and charles for hours. 

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” alex hangs up the phone, giggling to herself. leo stirs in her lap. 

“what’s so funny?” charles asks her. she shakes her head. 

“oh, nothing, she just overslept.” 

-

there’s the time where he has you hiked up on your kitchen counter, messy curls tickling the insides of your thighs. he’s licking at you ravenously, dragging his tongue up and down, twisting around your clit in circles. 

you’re tugging on his hair, holding him close to where you’re aching, dripping, slicking up the lower half of his face. he’s groaning into you, starved and desperate. it’s been a week since you’ve seen him, had him like this, the longest you’ve done without him since the first time you’d had sex. its untamed and needy and you fear what it means, the way you’re so addicted to one another. 

you also haven’t seen your brother for a week, something you realise when you hear a key turn in the lock, down the corridor. you have seconds to react, the noise washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water. you squirm, pushing a very confused lando away, managing to kick him lightly in the head as you leap from the counter. 

“mon dieu! fuck, i’m sorry!” you gasp. 

“what the fuck is going on-“ you cut him off, slapping your palm over his mouth. 

you glance around frantically, looking for a way out of this. there is but one option available. 

“the balcony! just- fuck, get out there!” you shoo him over to the small window, begging him with your eyes. “please! i’ll get rid of him!” 

you can hear footsteps approaching. you’re sweating now, smoothing down your skirt and your hair anxiously.

charles calls your name, rounding the corner  and walking into your kitchen, just as you pull the window closed again. 

“shit, you scared me!” you fake, clutching your chest. you can feel your heart hammering. 

“i did knock, sorry!” charles looks you over, scanning the kitchen. “are you okay?” 

“yeah, fine, sorry, i must have been out of it. i’m in the middle of an assignment.” you lie. 

“oh okay, well i can always go…” he’s looking at you weirdly, and you fear he knows something, that he can tell. 

“can we get dinner tonight? i’ll book.” you offer, scratching your neck. 

“yeah, that’s great. are you sure you’re okay?” your brother asks, turning to leave. 

“promise, yeah, i’m just so busy with work, deadlines and all that.” you wrinkle you nose, feigning distaste. 

“well you can tell me all about it later, okay? love you.” charles says sincerely, smiling. 

“love you too.” you call, listening for the sound of the door closing behind him. 

you immediately rush for the window, throwing it open, peeking your head out. lando stands with his back against the wall, shivering in nothing but a t-shirt. you look at him sheepishly. 

“get back in here.” you tell him, standing back to give him space to crawl back through. “‘m sorry.” you giggle. 

“you’re lucky you’re worth it.” lando teases, stalking towards you and wrapping you in his arms. his skin is cold against yours, and you huff, try and push him off. “hey, i’m cold!” he pouts. 

“you know, you’re lucky you’re worth it, i could have just let him murder you.” you reason, looking up at him. your hands slide around him, returning his embrace, warm hands skating up under his shirt. 

“you wouldn’t.” he says simply. “i’m way too good in bed.” 

“you keep telling yourself that, norris.” 

“i don’t need to, you tell me more than enough.” 

lando leans down to kiss you, then, nothing all that unusual but it always feels like a step too far, intimate in a way that you two usually aren’t. you kiss him back regardless, because really, you love it. he always tastes minty, divine when you let him lick into your

mouth. 

“i believe we were in the middle of something.” he whispers. 

“remind me.” you breathe. 

-

and there’s also the time where he’s fucking you in his drivers room, the massage table thudding dully against the wall with every hard thrust. 

his race suit is pulled down just enough, your dress bunched around your hips, and he’s slamming into you mercilessly.

the whole thing was a blur, really; you’d always vowed that you would never have sex at a race track, but that promise was old news, now, broken the very second you caught the way he was staring at you. his eyes were hard, unreadable, jaw clenched as he glared at the man talking to you. you were just being friendly, catching up with franco, but lando wouldn’t have it, not after such a shitty race. one harsh snap of his neck towards the mclaren motorhome had you quickly excusing yourself. you knew what it meant. 

“you don’t talk to me at the track but you let him?” lando growls, rutting into you wildly. you cling onto the damp material of his racesuit, head thrown back. 

“was just saying hello.” you gasp out, opening your eyes to look up at him. he’s staring down at you, angry. it’s hot.

“i don’t wanna see you talking to him. you see how he was looking at you? fucker should know who you belong to.” he hisses, sliding his hand between your legs. “you’re gonna cum for me when i say, okay? and you’re gonna be nice and loud, honey. no holding back.” 

“lando i’m-“

“when. i. say.” he cuts you off, punctuating each order with a snap of his hips. 

all you can do is take it, dripping all over him. you can hear it, the wet squelch of him filling you up. 

“should mark up this pretty neck, yeah? let everyone know that you already belong to someone.” 

you barely register what he’s saying, but the words leave you hot, pushing you even closer to the edge and you clamp down around him. 

“squeezing me so tight, bet you’ve wanted me all day, huh, honey? saw you looking at me earlier, pretending like you weren’t when i caught you. couldn’t just asked and i would’ve fucked you right then.” lando grunts. you wail out, thrashing against the makeshift bed and he nods, letting you know it’s okay. 

“that’s right, pretty girl, that’s it. been so good letting me have you. cum for me, baby.” 

baby.

it’s the first time he’s ever called you that. it’s the final push you need. 

he collapses into you as he finishes, sweaty curls plush against your bare shoulder. you’re both panting, spent, basking in the moment of silence.

“thank you.” he whispers, sealing it with a kiss against your neck. it tingles, a foreign feeling settling in your belly, shooting through your veins. 

“you drove really well.” you reply, quiet. his breathing halts, a self deprecating laugh filling the room. 

“don’t do that.” 

“what?” 

“act like you were watching my race. charles have a great drive, that must have been a lot more interesting.” 

“maybe, but i was watching you.” 

your words hit him hard. he can’t help but kiss you. you swallow a moan, and a whole heap of feelings that you’re too scared to tackle. 

“you better go. will i see you in brazil?” 

“yeah, lando. you will.” 

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-

PART TWO IS HERE!

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[bt-writing]

Mr. Crawling x Reader

A/N: chat i wrote my first NSFW. i have absolutely ADORED playing Homicipher this last week or so and i had to write something good for my man🙏🙏 this piece is based off of Ending 17 where he saves you from Mr. Stitch, i hope you enjoy!! (also, yes, the monster tongue is minecraft enchantment table lololol). AFAB reader, NSFW ending available on my ao3 linked at the end.

Word Count: 7.2k

Needy with Worry

***

Nearly every wall in this god-forsaken realm seemed to drip with the same mysterious, wet substance. It pooled within the valleys of the steel floor plates that lined the walkways and cultivated mold along the cove joints in offshoot rooms. No surface inside this liminal hell-hole was spared from the viscous liquid's presence. It was a sensory nightmare to look at, let alone touch. You wondered how Mr. Crawling dealt with his clothes trailing through it constantly without begging The Bride for a change.

The floor-bound specter in question blissfully followed behind you as you traversed the monster world's boundless hallways, oblivious to any discomfort that his soiled yukata might bring him.

"Your clothes," you pointed down at the man's black garment. "Water ruin. You dislike?" You tried, conveying your concern as best as you could in monster tongue.

"No ruin. Clothes good. A lot of water ruin time," Mr. Crawling replied with a stretched grin. It seems he'd gotten used to the fabric having a soaked trim all the time. The thought of it alone made you long for your bed in the overworld, warmly clad in fuzzy pajamas and safe from any cold, mystery liquid sticking to your body.

You found yourself extending your hand to pat Mr. Crawling's head fondly.

"If we ever get out of here, I'll teach you what socks are," you said wistfully.

He tilted his head curiously, not fully understanding your words. You dismissed his confusion with a brief wave and continued your trek down the dimly lit pathway.

There were a lot of things you had come to miss from the human world. Things you had taken for granted, like safety and comfort and food. God, what you wouldn't give for a hot meal. For every moment you spent lost in the underworld, the duller the pangs of hunger had grown. It was just as Mr. Silvair had hypothesized. The longer you stay in this foreign place, the more your body will change. But, even if you were losing your biological need to eat, the thought of some shitty fast food right now made your mouth water.

You'd have to teach Mr. Crawling about human food, too. The only thing you'd ever seen the man eat was ears, and you were convinced there had to be better tasting things from the human world that he could try. Surely.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of things you wanted to show Mr. Crawling from the human world. He had no reason to, and yet, ever since falling into this place, the ghostly man had made it his duty to stay by your side and protect you from the various "danger persons" lurking the underworld. He taught you his language, kept you safe, kept you happy—or as happy as the given situation allotted for. You wanted to return the favor. But, instead of showing him how to survive, you wanted to show him how to enjoy. There was so much joy to be had in the overworld. Mr. Crawling wasn't meant to stay in such a dark, violent place. He was better than the monster realm. He was kind.

Once you found that goddamn elevator again, you determined that you would bring Mr. Crawling home with you.

"Exit find, together safe place go?" you asked Mr. Crawling tentatively. You weren't sure if it was even possible for him to leave the underworld, whether he wanted to or not. But, the thought of parting from the crawling entity made your heart ache more than you cared to admit.

Your heart wasn't the only thing left aching, however, as your body collided with the hard concrete floor. Mr. Crawling hovered over you, smiling like an over-excited dog. His silky, black hair kissed your blushing cheeks as it draped down from his face.

"Me together you! Together safe place! Happy, happy!" he exclaimed. You'd never seen anyone get so excited at the prospect of simply being with you, it nearly brought tears to your eyes. You swallowed the burn in your throat with a chuckle and gently pushed the man off you.

As you neared the end of the spanning hallway, a metal door caked in rust came into view.

Finally, you thought. Even if the next room proved equally as tedious as this one had, it felt like faux progress was at least being made.

Before your hand could twist its knob, cold fingers wrapped around your ankle, bringing your movements to a halt.

"Do not. Danger." Crawling's mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked towards the door. Through the tension in the air, you noticed an eerie squelching noise coming from the other side.

But, what else could you really do? Who knows how long the two of you had been walking down this hallway, and you desperately wanted not to give up and turn back. There was nowhere else to go but forwards.

You gave Mr. Crawling a look that conveyed there was regretfully no other choice. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for whatever laid ahead.

The first thing you noticed after entering through the door was the horrible stench. The overwhelming smell of blood and iron weighed heavy in your lungs as goose bumps raced across your skin. It wasn't a smell unfamiliar to the underworld, but nowhere else had it been so concentrated. You were hardly two full steps into the room and your determination was already wavering.

Your eyes found the source of the putrid smell inhabiting the opposite corner of the tiled room. There, someone sat hunched over, eagerly digging into what could only be described as a mass of blood, guts, and flesh on the floor. The noise they made as their hands shifted around the entrails of a mutilated carcass was nauseatingly potent, inescapable, as if it were reverberating inside your skull itself.

The person stopped their rummaging to look back at you from over their shoulder. Through the blood splattered across their face, you recognized them to be the resident you'd dubbed 'Mr. Stitch'. Every encounter with Mr. Stitch thus far had proven to be unsettling; he was certainly a monster you didn't want to stumble across whilst exploring alone. The patch-work man didn't seem to share your apprehensive sentiments whatsoever and quickly sprang up to his feet.

"Hello!" Mr. Stitch greeted enthusiastically, fresh blood and unidentifiable chunks of meat dripping from his lips. "You again! Glad!"

You noticed he had gained a new article of clothing since you last saw him wallowing about in boredom. It was a fur lined jacket, the color indecipherable underneath a wet layer of blood. As your eyes fell to the corpse on the ground, your stomach dropped in grim realization. Your meeting with the other human was brief, yet, there was an undeniable comfort in knowing someone else from the overworld shared your experience in this nightmare. Now, they were torn to unrecognizable shreds before you.

"Human," was all you could manage to squeak out as terror gripped your entirety.

Mr. Stitch pulled on the edges of his new coat proudly and nodded, "Me find they. Play together. ʖᒷᔑℸ. Take this!"

You didn't need to understand his words to piece together what had happened in this room. A sense of urgency rapidly overtook your being. The exit was currently being blocked by the murder scene and its perpetrator. Was Mr. Stitch satisfied with his kill? Would he simply let you pass, just as he'd done the other times?

Your answer came as he wiped his mouth with the back of his discolored hand and stepped towards you and Mr. Crawling.

"You play together me?"

His smile was a sickening void that threatened to swallow you whole. This monster was obviously still riding the high from his recent kill, and your frightened expression must have been like dope for him.

"No play together," you softly shook your head, trying not to convey more fear than you already let on. Mr. Stitch's smile fell for a moment, disappointment washing over his face, before it returned in full force accompanied by a whisper:

"Too bad."

A scream came from your throat as bony fingers dug into your hips. Mr. Stitch lifted you over his shoulder with paranormal ease and, leaving you no time to process the turn of events, sprinted towards the exit.

"You! Don't! Don't!"

You could barely hear Mr. Crawling cry out after you. The sound of Stitch's feet pounding the pavement bounced off the walls. Your vision shook with each step. Using one hand, you used your kidnapper's shoulder to stabilize yourself, and with the other hand began to beat against his back as hard as you could. He let out a gleeful chuckle at your feeble attempt to fight back.

"Fun, fun! They come?" Mr. Stitch laughed, momentarily glancing backwards.

You looked up as well. In the distant shadows, you could make out a visibly distraught Mr. Crawling rounding the corner on his hands and knees. You were scared, but the sight of your companion hot on your captor's heels was reassuring. He'd never let you be separated from him willingly, he'd proven that many times before.

Before you could call out to Crawling, Mr. Stitch ducked into a nearby room and slammed the door behind him. The air was expelled from your lungs as he tossed you carelessly onto the floor. While Stitch fiddled with the lock, you took a moment to observe your surroundings. The room had the same solemn emptiness of a hospital's sleeping quarters. There was a single mattress that rested on a shaky bed frame. More noticeable was the large, dirty window that peered into the hallway you had just been carried down.

You heard frantic rattling coming from the locked door Mr. Stitch held shut. It persisted for a few moments before it went completely silent. An anxious knot built in your stomach as Stitch slowly backed away, confident the door would hold against Mr. Crawling's efforts on its own.

THUD. THUD THUD THUD.

Startled, your neck snapped to the window, where Mr. Crawling was rapidly beating on the pane of glass separating you from him. His pale grey lips were turned into an angry frown.

You failed to notice Mr. Stitch moving back towards you. A yelp escaped your lips as he harshly gripped your nape, picking you up off the floor and slamming your head against the window.

"Stop! Don't!"

You could barely hear Crawling's muffled plea through the ringing in your ears. The impact left you disoriented. A lopsided grin befell Stitch's messy face.

"They angry! Me take you, they angry!" he cackled in amusement, pressing a red fingertip against the glass to point and laugh at the poor man.

"Let me go, asshole," you growled out, struggling against the hand that dug into your neck.

Your aggressive tone only served to spur on the otherworldly monster. Mr. Stitch pushed his lean body flush against your back, squeezing your torso between himself and the cold glass that separated you from Mr. Crawling. The hand that held your head in place slowly brought its calloused fingers to cup your jaw. A horrible spark of vulnerability shot down your spine as your neck was exposed. At the same time, Stitch tilted your hips back and trailed his fingers across your abdomen in a taunting motion.

"Touch you, they dislike," his hot breath whispered into your ear. Even if you couldn't see his face, a cheshire grin was audible in his words. "Fun."

Mr. Stitch held your face at an odd angle. Looking down as much as you could, the sight on the other side of the glass made your heart skip a beat.

Mr. Crawling had stopped banging on the transparent barrier and instead, with large palms pressed flat against the panel, stared directly at Stitch, who was enjoying every single moment of his distress.

You gasped in discomfort. A wet tongue dragged itself from your ear lobe and down your jaw, lapping up any bead of fear-laced sweat it could find until stopping in the dip of your collarbone. The feeling of the monster's slimy tongue against your skin was vile; any effort to escape his touch was met with a harsh shove against the window.

"G-ah!" you cried out in pain.

Stitch's sharp teeth dug into the crook of your neck violently. Thick ripples of blood poured out from the canine indents below your throat. Your neck throbbed with hot pain. This bastard had actually bit you.

With an excited ferocity, that hungry tongue was right back against your flesh, his choppy pink hair tickling your jawline as he drank from the wound he created.

"Want consume human," he purred in desire.

Your stomach dropped, and before he could bite down again, an ear-piercing crack! came from the entrance of the room. Lost in his feeding frenzy against your neck, neither of you noticed Mr. Crawling had resumed his assault against the door—which, this time was so powerful it had splintered the door nearly in two.

"ᓭ⍑╎ℸ !" Stitch yelled in surprise. He clearly had gotten so lost in the taste of your blood that he'd forgotten to pay attention to your very angry guardian.

Cr-ack! A wooden plank flew off the door.

And back over Mr. Stitch's shoulder you went. With long strides, he bounded out of the room through the door that wasn't half wood chips and sprinted down a musty, brick-lined hallway.

The adrenaline rush was audible in his half-gasp, half-laughs as he turned down another corner in the dimly lit corridor. Stitch slowed his pace and looked back expectantly to see if the black-clad resident was still coming. He actually wanted Mr. Crawling to keep chasing him.

Coarse shuffling could be heard in the darkness. Both you and Mr. Stitch were stuck in place at the sight of Mr. Crawling, who was no longer crawling, but standing so tall he had to tilt his head so as to not hit the ceiling. His giant figure swayed slightly as he took a few slow steps towards you.

"You don't."

There was a silent fury in his smile that made even you scared, though you knew the man would never direct his anger at you. When you first met Mr. Crawling, it was true that he frightened you. The way he crawled along the ground was a bit uncanny, and the bloody stains where eyes should be was something you'd find straight out of a horror movie—hell, that went for this entire place—but the way he stood before you now was a different kind of terrifying. His presence alone felt inescapable and threatening-

That's it. He's trying to intimidate Mr. Stitch by standing upright.

"They stand! They angry!" cheered your tormenter.

Stitch was significantly smaller than Mr. Crawling, but much more agile. Crawling had told you before that he preferred not to walk. Maybe it's because he's not good at walking? His steps were slow and steady, but he was probably putting all his effort into the small movement. You couldn't really imagine the man running.

On the other hand, Mr. Stitch had turned tail and hauled you down the hallway and into a new room once again.

"Under sheet, go."

On the back end of the room was a long, white curtain that he pulled shut, concealing the two of you at a glance. Your heartbeat drummed softly in your ears, anticipating Mr. Crawling to burst into the room like your knight in shining armor and save you from the man who was itching to eat you alive. But Mr. Crawling never came.

"He not want?" Mr. Stitch pondered, looking back and forth between the slit in the curtain and your anxious face beside him. He finally settled on watching you. "Me take you, he dislike. Why?" he asked curiously.

His blue eye stared intensely into your own, as if they held the answer as to why Mr. Crawling wanted you back so desperately. You shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, which only caused him move in closer, like a predator stalking his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Mr. Stitch's hips hovered above your own, his hands straddling your sides. You leaned your head back as far as you could manage in a pathetic attempt to distance yourself from him, but the compromising position on the floor made it difficult to do so. A devious smile stretched over his face.

"They like you?"

A soft blush painted your cheeks. Mr. Crawling had said many times before that he 'like you' and 'want together you,' but you had never really interpreted it as anything but innocent, the same way a dog would enjoy your company and want to stay by your side. At least, that was what you had kept telling yourself, that Mr. Crawling craved your companionship and not you in particular. Lately however, you weren't entirely sure. Several times had the man gone out of his way to protect you, always making sure to ask 'are you okay?' and 'hurt exist?' in the aftermath of danger. And, as much as you hated to admit it, his concern for you gave you butterflies. The way his cold hands would run through your hair to comfort you, or how he would cover your body with his much larger one to shield you from the more dangerous residents of the underworld, it always left you with a warm, tingly feeling. You chewed your lip softly.

"They like me," you affirmed. Stitch's eyes lit up with this information, filling you with dread.

"I see. They like you. They dislike you gone," he brought his hand to trace dangerously along your throat. You clenched your teeth. "You die, they dislike. They upset, they angry!"

Woosh.

"S-stop!"

Cr-unch.

You sat in shock. You had fully expected Mr. Stitch's hand to wrap around your throat and slowly squeeze the life out of you. Instead, weight was quickly thrown off your body when a grey hand shot through the curtain and pulled him away. A splatter of blood followed his cry for mercy and tainted the virgin white curtains separating you from what was most likely Mr. Stitch's obliterated corpse.

Your breath caught in your throat as that same hand gripped the stained sheet and pulled it open.

Mr. Crawling!

His hands were warm and wet as they cupped your face gently, but you didn't care one bit. It felt so good to be back in his arms.

"Are you okay? You hurt?" he asked, inspecting every inch of your face meticulously. One hand left your cheek and delicately hovered over the bloody bite mark above your collarbone. It still hurt quite a bit, but you figured the adrenaline was working to mask most of the pain.

"Please don't worry. Me good," you spoke just above a whisper, returning his gesture and cupping his face in your shaky hands.

Mr. Crawling let a deep sigh slip past his frowning lips before he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, resting his head on your non-injured shoulder.

"They take you. Me surprised," he held you tighter, "they hurt you, me angry."

He really knew how to make your heart flutter without even meaning to.

"I'm okay, really. Don't worry," you knew he couldn't understand what you were saying, but you were too exhausted to care at the moment. "Thank you," you said, wrapping your arms around him.

"Me protect you. You don't go again. Together."

You could tell the whole affair had really shaken the sweet man up quite a bit. He hated to be apart from you. He probably felt helpless watching Stitch hurt you and not being able to stop it. You stroked his hair in a sympathetic motion.

"There, there. Me nice resident go. They heal me," you reassured. After some time, your body typically healed pretty quickly on its own in the monster world, but you figured going to see Mr. Silvair about your injury couldn't hurt, and maybe it would put Mr. Crawling at ease, too.

He sat still for a second before slowly nodding his head against your shoulder. You smiled to yourself at his childlike behavior. It felt nice to hold each other like this.

Did... did you like Mr. Crawling?

You sat still, taking in the way his nose dug into your collarbone, his soft breaths tickling your skin as he exhaled. He fit so naturally against you. His huge palms rested against the curves and dips of your back in a way that made you feel small, but safe. Your face felt warm.

Shit.

. . . .

It didn't take long for the two of you to find your way back to Mr. Silvair's territory.

Mr. Chopped greeted you with his usual chipper 'hello!' but quickly squinted his eyes, hiding from the sight of blood running down your neck with a 'blood! scared, scared'!

Hearing the commotion that Mr. Chopped was causing, Mr. Silvair peeked his head out of his room with his ever-present eerie smile. You gave him a sheepish wave and pointed to your wound.

"Me hurt. You fix? Heal?" you asked.

The lanky, silver haired man nodded, happy with any opportunity to 'fix,' as he loved to do.

"Me fix. There, wait," he said, pointing a thin finger towards the bed against the wall, and disappeared back into his private room.

You sat down just as Silvair ordered, and Mr. Crawling took his place dutifully besides you. You had a feeling he'd be more clingy than usual for some time. Which was a scary thought; he was pretty needy to begin with. But truthfully, you didn't mind his desire for attention. You enjoyed feeling needed by someone.

A few minutes later, Mr. Silvair emerged with a tray of tools and got to work mending your laceration. You grimaced in pain as he poured a cool liquid over it—some sort of disinfecting agent, you assumed.

Mr. Crawling, noticing your discomfort, grabbed your forearm and held it tightly.

"Are you okay? Want stop?" He asked with concern.

"Me good. They help," you reassured. Though, you knew from experience that the rest of the process wouldn't exactly be pain free. Mr. Silvair had tended to your injuries many times before. Truthfully, you were lucky he was one of the good residents. Between teaching you the monster tongue when you first came to the underworld and healing your body anytime you found yourself hurt, Mr. Silvair was a pretty dependable entity to have on your side.

Mr. Crawling lowered himself back down begrudgingly while Silvair continued his ministrations. After a few stitches, ointment, and some bandages, you were all fixed up and approved to go. After thanking him and waving Mr. Chopped goodbye, you and Crawling made your way back to the room you had unofficially deemed as yours.

The second your head made contact with the stiff mattress, the full weight of your exhaustion hit you in full. It had been a long day, and now that all of the adrenaline from earlier had left your body, you could feel yourself crashing.

You heard rustling next to the bed and glanced down. Mr. Crawling sat watchfully, ready to defend you from any resident that dared disturb your sleep. You smiled and patted his head gratefully, feeling safe under his guard. And with that, you let sleep take over.

. . . .

ao3 for NSFW ending ;)

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ a very klutzy christmas ; lh43

➪ summary: something always seemed to go wrong when luke hughes, y/n y/l/n and the Christmas spirit were put in the same place together

➪ warnings: reader is klutzy, being late, forgetting things, running into people (?)

➪ word count: 3.2k

➪ file type: fic - ho ho hockey!

➪ cupid's notes: part of ho ho hockey! i'm so excited for you guys to read this fic, it was supposed to be a four times their christmases were less than ideal but i got carried away with writing this one that i just decided to leave it at this! if you guys want me to write the other three i definitely can, just let me know :)

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

“Luke c’mon! We have to go, we’re already late.”

She bounced on her feet as she waited to hear the footsteps of her boyfriend, every passing second felt like an eternity. She flicked her eyes down to her watch, groaning at the time it displayed. They were supposed to have left over half an hour ago, and for once it wasn’t her fault that her boyfriend’s family was sitting around their house waiting for them to arrive. 

“Luke, I swear if you’re not out here in 30 seconds I’m going to lose my shit!”

And exactly 30 seconds later she heard the footsteps of her boyfriend climbing down the stairs, pulling his sweater on that was no doubt what she had laid out for him the night before. He jumped off the last step, ruffling his hand through his hair, flashing her a smile, “I’m ready.”

She only stared at him, anger shining in her eyes. Luke simply walked over and placed a kiss on her cheek, giving her an innocent look, “Don’t be mad at me.”

“We were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago, probably more now, and you’re over here taking your sweet ass fucking time-”

“Baby calm down, look at me,” He placed his hands on her arms, looking down at her with a comforting smile, “Everything's going to be okay. They’re not going to be mad at you, they’re not going to be mad at all. Well, maybe my mom will be but definitely not at you. Take a deep breath, alright?”

She sighed and ran a shaky hand over her coat, “Fine, but I’m still mad because I have to wear this,” she pulled on her red turtleneck, “because someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

Luke’s boyish grin made its way onto his face as he slipped his new sneakers on, moving to open the door for her, “M’lady.”

She stepped through the doorway, making her way down the hallway as Luke trailed behind her, easily catching up to throw an arm around her shoulder and place a kiss on her temple. She softened slightly and looked up at him, a small smile gracing her lips. 

Maybe she was over-stressing just a little bit. It would be her and Luke’s ‘second’ Christmas together, but only her first with his family and it was getting to her head. She had met his family plenty of times before, even spending the summer at the lake house, and spending countless nights at Luke’s old apartment with Jack before he moved in with her. But something about the Christmas energy made her nervous, and something always seemed to go wrong when you put Luke Hughes, y/n y/l/n, and the Christmas spirit together. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The car ride to the Hughes’ house was quick and familiar, y/n watching the snow fall with nothing short of amusement and nervousness. Luke’s hand rested on her thigh, emanating a comforting feeling and a warmth that she could only associate with him.

She glanced over at him, watching as he removed his hand from her thigh to make the turn down his parents’ street. He was dressed in one of her favorite sweaters of his, it was a nice dark but muted blue that she always loved on him and the collar of his white dress shirt folded over the neckline. His legs were adorned with one of the many pairs of black jeans he owned and his favorite pair of new white sneakers on his feet. 

Luke looked over at her, a smirk on his face once he caught her staring, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, but thankfully the darkness that settled at only 4:00 pm covered it well. He held out his hand, making a small gesture to get her to place hers in his. Once she did, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed it,  “Whatcha lookin’ at pretty girl?”

“You.” Y/n replied in a murmur, curling up in the car seat as best as she could, “I did a good job at picking out your outfit.”

“‘Course you did, why do you think I let you?”

She only blushed more at his response, going back to look out the window just in time to see Ellen and Jim’s house come into view. A new wave of nerves settled over her as they pulled into the driveway. She felt Luke’s hand squeeze hers as he turned the car off, shifting to look at her.

Y/n looked over at him and smiled before glancing in the back seat. Her eyes widened as she saw the lack of her favorite Christmas dish, “Luke!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“We forgot the pie.” She groaned, sitting back in her seat and throwing her head back against the headrest, “Fucking hell.”

“Y/n/n it’s okay, they’re not gonna-”

“That’s not the point Luke. I promised your mom I would bring something and now I forgot it.”

Luke’s face settled into a pout at the disappointment that tainted her face. He reached for her hand again, clutching it between both of his, allowing his thumb to rub over her knuckles, “Baby, listen, please. I know how well you wanted today to be, how perfect you wanted it to be. And I understand that them not being mad isn’t the problem.

“But they love you, probably more than me. They’re not going to be upset because you were having to deal with your childish boyfriend.”

She glanced over at his teasing tone, a huge smile on his face once he saw her lips turn up. She only let out a small ‘humph’ before responding, “You’re always making dumb jokes at the most inappropriate times.”

“I’m just trying to get my girl to smile, is that such a crime these days?”

“I suppose not, but you still have to make it up to me.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” A mischievous glint lit in his eye as he leaned closer to her.

“I don’t know.” She murmured quietly before replicating his actions, meeting his lips over the center console.

Luke grinned into the kiss before pulling away and leaving a small kiss on her forehead, “Let’s go, yeah?”

She nodded as she pulled away, climbing out of the car. She pulled her coat tighter around her, watching as Luke opened the trunk and grabbed the presents, stacking them on top of each other.

“Be careful Lukas, you know what happened last year.”

He rolled his eyes, making his way up the front steps after slamming the trunk closed. He knocked on the front door just as y/n walked up beside him, looping her arm through his.

Soon, the door opened and Jim stood in the entry of the house, “Hey you two.”

“Hi, Mr. Hughes!”

Jim took the presents from his youngest son, before gesturing them into the house, “How many times have Ellen and I told you to just call us by our names, Y/n?”

A sheepish grin made her way to her face, stepping inside of the Hughes’ house, and immediately she was met with the comforting atmosphere of the home. She moved to slip off her boots, but Luke’s hand placed on her lower back stopped her, “I got you.”

This only made her face flush more as Luke knelt down and unzipped her boots, sliding them off with ease. Her nervousness didn’t falter, however, slightly stumbling as Luke pulled her into the kitchen where his mom stood, “Hi momma.”

Ellen looked up from what she was doing, smiling much like him, “Hi! Oh, Luke why’d make the poor girl wait to be here? Probably stressed her out a ton.” She pulled her son into a hug, squeezing him tightly as she pestered him.

As she pulled away, she turned her attention to his girlfriend, her smile getting even wider if that was possible, “Hello sweetheart. Thank you so much for coming, we’re so happy to have you.”

Y/n hugged her back, “Thank you for having me! And you’re right, Luke did make me stress.”

The woman only briefly pulled away to swat at her son’s arm, who held his hands up in surrender before making his way over to where his brothers were, whatever that may have been. Ellen finally pulled out of the hug to continue working on the mashed potatoes.

The girl raised up on her toes as a nervous habit, “Do you need any help?”

“If you want to! You can start setting the table if you wish, dear.”

As she grabbed the plates and started setting the table, she released a small sigh before speaking up, “Also, I may have sort of forgotten the pie. I had it in the fridge and then I just got so flustered before we left that I forgot it.”

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I made extra dessert anyways because Jack always eats all of it.”

“I do not. That is extremely hurtful.” Jack walked into the kitchen, hand brushing an invisible piece of fuzz off his shirt, “Quinn helps too.”

He wrapped an arm around y/n’s shoulders, bringing her into a side hug, “And nice to see you y/n/n. Good job at dressing Luke.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his words, a small smirk playing on her lips, “I do try to make sure my boyfriend is dressed nicely. It seems you don’t have anyone to help you.”

He scoffed playfully, “I am wounded. You are supposed to be on my side here too.”

“If you’re going to be in the kitchen, you are going to be helping. Help y/n set the plates- Don’t whine at me, Jack.”

He grumbled, taking a stack of forks into his hands and placing them on the side of the plates. 

“Forks go on the left, Jacky. Knives go on the right, ” Y/n teased, now placing napkins on top of each plate, laughing as she heard another annoyed groan from him and watched his eyes roll.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

After a while, dinner was nearing ready, y/n having spent most of the time in the kitchen talking with Ellen and helping out when she could. She wiped her hands on her skirt, trying to rid herself of the sweat that clung to them. 

“I’m just going to run to the bathroom quickly if that’s okay?”

Ellen laughed, “You don’t need to ask to go to the bathroom, hon. Just go, I’ll be fine here.”

She blushed, another wave of embarrassment washed over her as she took in her words, “Right.”

She started walking out of the kitchen, scolding herself softly at her actions, stop embarrassing yourself. She froze halfway out of the kitchen, backtracking once she realized she didn’t actually know where the bathroom was, “Mrs- Ellen? Where exactly is-”

“Down the hall and to your left, baby.” A hand fell on her shoulder and a kiss was placed on her temple. 

She turned to look at who it was, grinning when she saw the familiar face of her boyfriend, a lopsided grin that practically matched her own on his face. He kissed her head again, wrapping her up in a hug. He hadn’t seen her since they arrived, catching up with his dad and oldest brother in the living room as they watched whatever sports game was on. 

“Missed you.” He murmured into her ear, squeezing her a little tighter afterward.

“We’ve only been separated for what? 40 minutes?”

“Doesn’t matter, still missed you.”

They stayed like that for a minute before she reminded him softly that she had to go to the bathroom. He pulled away and walked over to his mom, starting up a conversation about something she had no clue about. She was already heading out of the kitchen and down the hallway when she heard them talk. 

She got halfway to the bathroom, looking down at her feet as she thought to herself, when her head knocked against something, groaning in pain, “Mother fucker-” She blinked the tears away that stung in her eyes, clutching her head. 

Once the tears were cleared enough that she could see, she saw Jack standing there, mirroring her actions with a hand to his head. He had been just heading out of the bathroom when it happened, thoughts also racing in his mind causing him to not look where he was going when he ran into her, heads meeting.

“Fucking hell that hurt.” He exclaimed, rubbing at the spot on his forehead that took most of the impact.

They didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just trying to ease their rapidly growing headaches. Once they both got it calmed down enough, they stared at each other before letting out laughs of amusement, “We really need to pay better attention to where we’re walking huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t need everyone to stare at my forehead and then explain that the Jack Hughes caused the bump.”

He ushered her forehead, planning to get him and y/n ice packs from the freezer, but when she took a step, black dots clouded at the edge of her vision causing her to stumble, just barely catching herself against the wall. She heard Jack’s curse, leaning into him as an arm came around her waist, “You okay?”

“Dizzy.” She murmured back, closing her eyes and opening them again, hopes of clearing her fuzzy vision failing. 

“Hold on. Luke!”

Y/n winced at Jack’s yell, pain worsening in her head. She could only give a soft nod of acknowledgment at his whispered apology, holding onto him tighter as she felt the overwhelming dizzy feeling wash over her. 

Luke came walking out of the kitchen, eyes drifting down the hallway, “What’re you yelling for?”

His gaze fell upon his brother and girlfriend, huddled together against a wall, a worried expression on the former and a pained one on the other, “What happened? Is she okay?”

He walked briskly to get to the two, immediately taking his girlfriend into his arms, pressing multiple soft kisses to her head, and rubbing her arm up and down, “What’s going on?”

“We knocked our heads together, was going to get us ice packs when she stumbled. Said she felt dizzy.”

“I’m fine, just dizzy like he said.”

Luke shook his head, tucking her into his side safely, walking them back to the kitchen to sit down, “Let’s get you some ice, sweet girl, c’mon.”

He sat her down on a chair, brushing the hair away from her face. He heard Jack mumble something to their mom but his focus was solely on his girlfriend, cupping her face and looking over her head. She winced as his thumb brushed over the point of impact, shaking her head slightly at his apology. 

There was a tap on Luke’s shoulder, Ellen now standing behind him with an ice pack wrapped in a towel in her hand, “Here. Put this on her forehead for ten minutes and then take it off.”

He nodded, taking the ice pack from her and placing it gently on y/n’s forehead. Ellen smiled softly before switching her gaze to the girl, “How’re you doing?”

“Could be worse,” she murmured, blinking slowly to clear her vision again. “Has to be the first time I’ve knocked heads with someone this hard.”

“That’s just because Jack has a big head.” A new voice entered the room and as best as she could, she moved her eyes to find the third Hughes brother.

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Would you shut up?” Luke asked exasperated, pressing the ice pack a little harder into his girlfriend’s head as she winced from the noise.

“Sorry.” The two murmured.

“S’okay. Just fight quieter please if you’re going to fight.” She spoke up, leaning into the cold compress.

They nodded taking their seats at the table as they watched their younger brother and his girlfriend. Luke slowly took the icepack away from her head, placing it on the ground next to her chair. He moved the hair that had fallen back into her face, tucking it behind her ear, “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He stands up, placing a kiss on her temple before sitting down next to her. The six of them start eating, easily falling into a conversation about hockey even after the multiple attempts Ellen had to end it. Y/n doesn’t mind it, her head is still pounding and even the thought of thinking about hockey is hurting it more.

She eats the majority of the food Luke has placed on her plate, taking her time and pushing it around slightly. She feels bad, she doesn’t want Ellen to feel like she doesn’t like the food, but it’s hard for her to focus right now and the knocking her head against Jack’s has left her more tired than she was when she arrived.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

After dinner, the six of them all clean up, or y/n tries to and then is scolded by Luke and his mom to sit on the chair or go into the living room and lie down. So that’s where she was when Luke came and found her, curled up on one side of the couch, her head resting on the armrest.

“Hey,” he kisses her softly, sitting down next to her, “You want to head out?”

She went to protest, saying they hadn’t opened their gifts or even had dessert yet but the idea of going home sounded really appealing, so she nodded, using Luke’s help to stand up. They walked back to the kitchen, informing everyone that they were going to be heading back home. 

Luke grabbed the small platter of cookies and pieces of pie from his mom, y/n thanking her for him. They then made their way into the foyer where Luke helped her get her boots on, patting each thigh when he was done. 

They said their goodbyes and then walked down the driveway with gifts and dessert in hand, placing them in the backseat before climbing into the car.

“You sure you’re okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I feel better after eating.”

“That’s good.”

He pulled out of the driveway, making their way down the street when he heard her voice, “Can’t believe the first Christmas with your family we show up late, we forget the pie and I knocked heads with your brother.”

He chuckled, “Honestly, did you expect anything less?”

She thought about it, and no she didn’t expect less. Ever since she and Luke met their Christmases had been less than ideal. When they met, she knocked into him at a coffee shop, successfully spilling coffee all over herself and Luke. On their first Christmas together, Luke broke his gift for her, and she had to deal with a flustered and anxious Luke. And now this.

“You’re right. I think we’re just destined to have dumbass Christmases.”

“Hey, at least it’ll be my turn next year. Let’s hope I don’t break something.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

He did indeed break something, his arm. He was setting up Christmas lights around their house, it would be the first one in it. He didn’t know how it happened, all he knew was that one moment he was connecting sets of lights and the next he was on the ground clutching his arm in pain. It was a long night in the ER. 

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[junkissed]

the first snow

★ | member — joshua x gn reader ★ | genre — fluff, a little angst, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers ★ | word count — 1.3k ★ | synopsis — you think of joshua every time it snows. but does he think of you, too? ★ | warnings — none; no physical description of reader ★ | notes — based on the song by exo! it still hasn't snowed here yet but this song came on and i was inspired to write something :) if you liked this please remember to reblog and let me know in the tags/replies how you liked it! happy december!

you always think of joshua when it snows.

something about the soft, silent flakes just reminds you of him. but only the fresh kind of snow, the gentle dusting of white on the ground and the chill in the air that makes you want to snuggle up with a cup of hot cocoa. the kind that makes you feel like you're living inside a snow globe, a moment behind a glass bubble, frozen in time. that kind of snow is your favorite, when you're indoors watching it from the comfort of your home.  

now, while you're laying in bed watching the flurries outside your window covering the world in a blanket of white, he's all you can think about.

the first time it snowed with him, you were in bed just like this. except then it had been early in the morning, when the sun hadn't risen yet but the moonlight reflected off the snow and illuminated the night. the world had seemed brighter then.

“baby,” he'd mumbled your nickname in your ear, his deep morning voice still laced with sleepiness, yet you can hear the excitement hiding inside his words. “wake up. it's snowing.”

“i'll see it in the morning,” you groan, burying your head in the pillow. but you don't let his arms move from around you, his chest firmly pressed against your back keeping you surrounded in warmth beneath the covers. he's always been like your personal heater, especially in the winter.

he whines and nuzzles his nose against the crook of your neck, his breath warm on your skin as he whispers. “please? c'mon, darling.”

you sigh and summon the last of your energy to lift your head, and as soon as you do he swoops in to kiss your cheek, tickling your face with the smile on his lips. in the dark you can barely see the snow swirling outside, but it fills you with the same sense of calm you always feel around him, and you can't help but smile back.

“see? it looks so pretty.” joshua grins, kissing you again. “just like you.”

the fresh snow still reminds you of him, but now so does the old snow. the half-melted snow, the kind that's started to seep into the cracks. the kind that doesn't go away easily, mixing itself with twigs and rocks and dirt until it's no longer a pretty shade of white, warm and comforting. no, this kind is harsh and bitter, cold without any of the beauty to mask the reality of its nature. cold like day-old ice covering the ground, dark patches that you can't always see until you've already slipped and fallen.

the knock on your door comes as you're still trying to drag yourself out of bed and do something to take your mind off him.

you finally manage to pull your gaze away from the window, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. the sound of your slippers against the floor only makes the room seem even smaller, and even with the lights on the house feels dark tonight, your christmas tree still bare. you couldn't bear to decorate it alone this year.

you open the door, and simultaneously everything you'd dreaded and hoped for is standing in front of you, covered in snow.

“joshua?”

“hi,” he laughs awkwardly. even with the clear tension his eyes still sparkle the same way they always do, the way you so dearly missed. “how have you been?”

all you want to do is jump into his arms, but instead you keep your feet rooted in place. “what are you doing here?”

“i… don't know.” he gives you a weary smile, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. he's quiet for a long moment as you wait for him to explain, trying to come up with the words to say. “my car broke down a couple blocks away, and my phone died before i could call a tow. i didn't know what else to do.”

“so you think it’s a good idea to show up at my doorstep in the middle of a snowstorm?” you can't keep the bite in your words as a gust of wind blows into your house, and joshua winces.

“as good a time as any, to tell you i'm sorry.”

you release a breath, a cloud of fog escaping into the air in front of you. he must be freezing, standing outside wearing just the coat you'd given him on your first christmas together. a part of you is surprised he even still has it, but nothing surprises you anymore when it comes to him. you wonder whether he notices you're still wearing the pajamas he got you.

“it's been a year, joshua.”

he exhales, looking down at his feet as he crosses his arms. “i know. i regret it every day, i shouldn't have let it go that long.” he finally lifts his eyes, rocking back and forth on his feet. “i'm not expecting anything. i just… i missed you. i had to see you.”

you chew on your lip, and silence falls between the two of you. you can see the snowflakes sticking to his hair, soft white flakes slowly melting, and you have to fight your every instinct not to reach out and ruffle his hair for him like you always did.

finally you step out of the doorway, waving him inside, and with a relieved sigh he wipes his boots on your outdoor mat.

“listen…” he swallows as you close your front door behind him, slipping his shoes off and following you into the living room. “i know i left at a bad time. i was stupid. i would have done everything different if i knew i'd lose you. that’s not what i wanted, not at all.”

you nod, crossing your arms over your chest in silence. you don't reply.

“my mom keeps asking when you're coming over for christmas.” he starts to say something else, but you interrupt before he can get that far. you don't want to have to tell him how much you missed spending the holidays with his family. 

“you could've called.”

“would you have picked up?”

you look away from him, focusing on a spot on the floor. you don't want to admit it, because it means admitting you still haven't moved on. but you've never been able to lie to him, not even now. “yeah.”

his expression softens like he wasn't expecting your answer, but you don't see it. you don't want to meet his eyes. you don't know if you can.

“it's snowing,” joshua says quietly, taking a small step towards you. you don't move.

you hum, but you still haven't looked back up at him. “i can see that.”

“you used to love it when it snowed.”

“i still do.”

he takes another step. “so do i.”

somehow, you know he's aware neither of you are talking about the weather anymore. the house falls quiet again and you exhale, trying to hold yourself together. you're almost glad he never called, because you don't know if you'd have been able to do this over the phone.

joshua slowly lifts his hand to cup your cheek, gently guiding your chin up to finally look at him. his voice is soft when he finally speaks, that familiar quiet whisper like he used to. “can we try again?”

you don't want to look at him, but you have to. there's so much you've wanted to tell him, so much you've wanted to say over the past year, but nothing comes. you've missed your best friend, the way he makes you laugh, the way he makes you feel.

the first snow doesn't feel the same without him. 

© junkissed 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

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[last-dropsevi]

Piltover girl* ੈ✩‧₊˚ Sevika

Pairing: Sevika x gn reader (leaning towards fem)

summary: Sevika found out your secret. An argument breaks out

Word count: 1.3k (somethin light)

Warning: Angst No comfort. this is my first writing ever so ntm. Always willing to take tips where needed thanksssss

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ You sat at the bar, nursing a drink you didn’t really need but could hardly ignore. You had seen this before: the quiet distance she created between herself and the world, a barrier so thick that not even the closest people could reach her. But tonight, that barrier felt thicker than usual. Her eyes rarely met yours, and whenever you tried to speak to her, her responses were curt and dismissive.

Something was wrong, and you could feel it in the pit of your stomach.

You had always been there for Sevika, no matter what. Through her rough times, through the dark nights in the underbelly of Zaun, through every gamble she’d thrown herself into, you had been a constant presence. But tonight, it felt like she was shutting you out in a way that stung. The space between you seemed to grow with every word she ignored, every glance she avoided.

You’d tried, earlier in the night, to offer support as she gambled away her winnings, the old familiar tension in her eyes—frustration, anger, but more than that—something darker. Something you couldn’t understand.

“Sevika,” you said again, sliding into the chair across from her. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange all night.”

She didn’t even look up, focusing intently on the cards in her hand. “I’m fine,” she muttered, her voice tight, laced with a sharpness you hadn’t heard before.

“No, you’re not,” you pressed. “What’s going on? You’ve been... distant.”

Her jaw tightened, her grip on the cards faltering for a moment as she glanced at you, her gaze icy. “Drop it, alright?” Her tone was colder than usual, sharper than a knife’s edge. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

You frowned. Something didn’t sit right. You weren’t going to just let it go.

“Sevika, please. Talk to me. I’m just trying to be here for you,” you said, your voice soft but insistent.

But Sevika's eyes darkened, her expression hardening. She leaned back in her chair, a deliberate move, as if she was putting even more distance between you. “You think you know me, don’t you?” she snapped, her voice a low growl. “You think you know what I need. You think you can just come here, show up, and act like you’re the answer to my problems. But you don’t know anything. Stop trying to play a hero.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a rush of confusion and hurt flooding your chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You couldn’t mask the hurt in your voice. “You think just because I haven’t faced as much troubles as you I don’t understand you? I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve always been here.”

She scoffed, a bitter smile curling on her lips. “Always there, huh? You don’t even know who I am, where I’m from. I’m just a street rat from the depths of Zaun. You don’t belong here. And you never will.”

The words cut through you like shards of glass. You had never heard her sound so angry, so... cold. It felt like a betrayal, but you couldn’t understand why she was pushing you away so violently.

“I’m not trying to fix you,” you said, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and sadness. “I’m not some savior, Sevika. I just want to be with you. I want to understand to you to…love you.”

Her eyes flashed with something darker, something you couldn’t place. “understand me? I’ve seen enough of Piltover’s elites play pretend. You think you’re different?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, she stood up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. The room seemed to close in as she towered over you, her entire presence heavy with something unreadable.

“What the hell’s going on with you tonight?” you asked, exasperated.

“Let’s just say... I found out your little secret,” Sevika said, her voice dangerously calm. The words hung in the air, and your heart froze in your chest.

You swallowed, your blood running cold as the truth began to dawn. “What secret?” you managed to whisper, your voice suddenly small, trembling.

“Don’t play coy,” she spat, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but I didn’t want to believe it. But you’re not just a Piltover girl, are you? You came down here to escape something, didn’t you?”

A rush of dread filled you, and your mind scrambled to make sense of what she was saying. “Sevika, I—”

“I know who you are,” she interrupted, her voice low but cutting. “I found your file. The one from the upper city. The one with your name on it. The one that says you came here to run from your precious little life in Piltover. Hiding behind the streets, pretending to be someone you’re not.” Her tone was venomous, and the accusation hung in the air between you like a blade.

You froze. How did she—? But then it hit you: when you first met Sevika, you’d been careful about your past. Too careful, maybe. And now, it seemed, it had come back to haunt you.

Her gaze was harsh, unrelenting. “You don’t think I can see it? You think I wouldn’t figure out that someone like you could never belong here? No one from Piltover ever really gets it down here. Not the way we do.”

You could feel the weight of the lie you’d been living pressing on you, and it hurt. More than anything, it hurt because you had never meant to deceive Sevika. You just wanted to be close to her. To be someone real, someone who could stand beside her in a world so far removed from the polished streets of Piltover.

“You were just using me to get away from your perfect Piltover life,” Sevika’s words cut through the silence, and your heart shattered. “I guess I was just another distraction for you. Just another fucking game to play.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. “That’s not true,” you whispered, but the weight of her gaze made it hard to speak. “Sevika... I didn’t want to hide it from you. I—”

She shook her head, her expression hardening. “Don’t, okay? Don’t pretend you came down here for me. This was just some… escape. And I’m not the damn place for you to run to.”

A silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You wanted to fight back, to tell her she was wrong, but the truth was, deep down, you knew she wasn’t entirely wrong.

Sevika was right about one thing: you had been hiding behind a mask of your own. But that didn’t change how you felt about her.

You didn’t speak. Instead, you turned and walked to the door, your heart aching with every step you took toward it. Sevika didn’t try to stop you. She didn’t even move.

Before you left, you glanced back at her—once more, but for the first time, there was no warmth in her eyes. Only cold, calculated distance.

And that was enough to tear you apart.

┐(￣ ヘ￣)┌

Did u like itttttttt? Let’s hope u did anyway uhh if u have any suggestions for another story, send it in the replies. I’m tryna set up a request box but idk how

[leejenowrld]

on your knees — lee jeno

pairing — lee jeno x reader

word count — 3.2k

synopsis — after teasing him all day and pushing him too far, jeno humiliates you, making you strip and touch yourself while he watches—then he grabs your wrist, yanks you to your knees, and reminds you who owns you. you’re not coming tonight. you’re here to choke on his cock, take every inch, and beg for more while he uses you exactly how he wants. it’s brutal, filthy, and leaves you dripping for him.

warnings — dom/sub dynamics, degradation, humiliation, forced stripping, slapping, oral (m receiving), orgasm denial, rough sex, choking, hair pulling, language, explicit smut.

i missed writing for my love 🖤

──────────────────────────────

Thinking about your boyfriend Jeno, furious and unrelenting, his expression dark and dangerous as he makes you strip for him—slowly, painfully slowly—while he lounges back on the bed in nothing but his boxers. His legs are spread wide, his hand lazily stroking the thick outline of his cock, each deliberate motion sending a jolt of heat through you. His dark eyes burn into you, every glance a reminder of his control, his sharp commands leaving no room for hesitation. His voice, low and rough, drips with disdain, each word cutting through you like a whip and reminding you exactly why you’re being punished.

Tears spill over, streaking your cheeks in hot, silent trails, a mix of humiliation and desperate arousal that you can’t contain. Your body trembles as your hands fumble to shed the last of your clothing, every exposed inch of your bare skin making his jaw clench tighter. He doesn’t soften, doesn’t move—his only reaction the flex of his hand as his grip on himself tightens. The slow, agonizing stroke of his fingers sends a shiver down your spine as his gaze trails over you, drinking in every curve with a hunger that feels both cruel and intoxicating.

“Pathetic,” he sneers, his voice laced with venom and mockery, each word a deliberate, cutting blow. “Crying for my cock like you deserve it after what you pulled? Look at you.” His tone sharpens, rough with dominance. “Don’t even think about touching me. You’re lucky I’m even looking at you right now.”

You’re trembling, your knees weak and unsteady as shame and desire war within you. The urge to fall to the floor, to beg for his forgiveness, claws at you, but his warning glare holds you frozen in place. His anger is palpable, his dominance suffocating, and you know better than to test him when he’s like this. All you can do is stand there, exposed and vulnerable, your body laid bare for his satisfaction as he strokes himself harder. The deliberate motion of his hand quickens, his breathing rougher now, each sound making your pulse race.

“You want me?” he growls, his voice thick, low, and cutting in its intensity. His eyes narrow as they drag over your trembling form, raking over every inch with unrelenting focus. “Then prove it. Keep going. Make me forget why I’m so fucking pissed at you.” His lips curl into a sharp, cruel smirk, his tone dropping even lower, rough with condescension. “But don’t think for a second you’re getting what you want tonight.”

You hadn’t planned for things to escalate this far, but deep down, you knew you’d been daring him to lose control. You’d pushed Jeno too far this time. Whether it was the teasing tone in your texts earlier, the way you left him waiting when he’d told you to come straight to his place, or just the fact that he’d caught a glimpse of the dress you were wearing tonight when you posted a story—it had all added up to this. He’d been stewing in frustration, letting it simmer until you showed up at his apartment, already nervous from the clipped tone in his voice when he told you to come inside.

And now? Now, you were standing in front of him, trembling under the weight of his gaze.

Jeno sat back, leaning forward slightly, his forearms resting on his thick thighs. His posture was deceptively relaxed, every muscle in his body taut beneath his skin, betraying the control he was barely holding onto. His broad chest was bare, the soft golden light of the room casting shadows over his sculpted torso, highlighting the ridges of his defined abs and the deep lines that carved down to where the waistband of his boxers hung low on his hips. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, the evidence of his impatience and pent-up frustration.

The veins in his forearms stood out as his fingers curled and uncurled into loose fists, the tension rippling through his body like a live wire. His shoulders, broad and impossibly strong, rose and fell with slow, measured breaths, as if he was fighting to keep himself in check. His thighs, thick and powerful, spread wide, giving him an air of dominance that made the space between you feel impossibly small despite the physical distance.

His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking just below the sharp edge as he studied you with those dark, narrowed eyes. The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, his irritation palpable in the hard set of his full lips, pressed into a thin line. His black hair was messy, falling over his forehead in a way that made him look both disheveled and effortlessly attractive, like he’d just rolled out of bed and was already ready to destroy you.

There was something suffocating about his silence, the way he didn’t need to speak to make you feel his power. It was almost worse than any outburst, the quiet, simmering rage that radiated from him like heat, the kind of anger that made you second-guess every single move you’d made to push him this far. Yet, beneath the frustration, there was something magnetic about him—the raw masculinity in his posture, the way his body exuded strength, the way his presence alone commanded the room.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, dripping with a restrained anger that sent shivers down your spine. His eyes dragged down your body slowly, deliberate and heated, lingering on the way the hem of your dress barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. “You think you can just show up here after pulling that shit? And then stand there looking like you’re begging for it?”

“I—”

“Shut up.” His voice snapped through the air like a whip, cutting off whatever excuse you were about to stammer out. His head tilted slightly, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he leaned back, spreading his legs wider. The movement exposed the unmistakable bulge straining against his boxers, but it didn’t soften the sharp edge of his tone. “You wanted my attention so fucking bad? Strip.”

Your heart slammed against your ribcage, the bluntness of his command making your stomach twist. His dark gaze bore into you, heavy and unrelenting, as if daring you to disobey.

“Now, baby,” he said again, sharper this time, his voice dropping an octave. “Don’t make me fucking tell you twice.”

Your hands trembled as they reached for the hem of your dress, his intensity making it impossible to think clearly. Jeno’s jaw tightened, his forearms flexing as he sat back slightly, his eyes locked on you like a predator waiting for its prey to make a move.

You slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders slowly, feeling the heat of his gaze trace every inch of your skin. The fabric inched down your body, but the sheer anticipation in the air made it feel like hours.

“Slower,” he growled, his voice rough, leaving no room for argument. “You wanted this. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

Your breathing hitched, your cheeks burning as you paused, forcing yourself to move at the pace he demanded. Jeno’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his sharp eyes dragging over you with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Look at you,” he muttered, almost to himself, his tone filled with a mix of irritation and something darker. “Such a fucking tease, and now you’re acting shy?”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, the mixture of his dominance, your embarrassment, and the undeniable heat between you all crashing together. You bit your lip, fighting to hold it together as you shimmied the dress down further, leaving you exposed in nothing but your underwear.

“Don’t cry,” Jeno said, his voice softening just slightly, though the edge of irritation still remained. His head tilted again, his smirk faint but commanding. “You wanted to act like a brat? Then take it like a good girl.”

“That’s better,” Jeno murmured, his voice dropping lower, rough and dripping with control. His sharp eyes dragged over your body, lingering on every exposed inch of skin. The way his gaze darkened sent a shiver down your spine, and the faint smirk curling at his lips only made your stomach twist harder. He leaned back slightly, propping himself up on his hands, the movement making the muscles in his broad chest flex. “Now the rest,” he commanded, his tone steady but full of challenge, daring you to defy him.

You hesitated, your fingers trembling as they hovered over the waistband of your panties, the fabric brushing against your skin as if daring you to act. Jeno’s smirk shifted, sharpening into something more menacing, his jaw tightening as his dark eyes pinned you in place, a predator waiting to pounce.

“Don’t make me wait,” he growled, his voice low and edged with a threat that sent heat pooling deep in your core. “Unless you want me to rip them off myself.”

The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of his demand. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding erratically in your chest as you whispered, “Jeno, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice slicing through your words like a blade. “No excuses. Just do it.”

Your hands trembled as you slipped your fingers beneath the waistband, your skin brushing against the heat of your body as you dragged the fabric down. Every movement felt excruciatingly slow, deliberate, as if time itself had stretched under the intensity of his gaze. When the panties fell to the floor, you felt a flush of vulnerability spread through you, leaving you bare and exposed.

Jeno let out a low, guttural groan, his hand drifting lazily to his lap. He palmed himself through his boxers, the deliberate motion sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his tone rough, thick with unrestrained hunger. “Look at you. Standing there, trembling like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

“I wasn’t—” you began, but his sharp glare cut you off, silencing you with its weight.

“Quiet,” he snapped, his voice gravelly, leaving no room for argument. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Well, now you’ve got it. Don’t make me regret giving it to you.”

Your knees pressed together instinctively, a feeble attempt to shield yourself from his piercing gaze, but Jeno’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the movement. His jaw flexed, the muscles tightening as his hand began to stroke himself through the fabric, slow and purposeful. The motion drew a low groan from his lips, a sound so raw it sent shivers racing up your spine.

“Open your legs,” he ordered, his voice dark and commanding, brooking no defiance. “Let me see you.”

You froze for a moment, your hesitation hanging thick in the air. But the weight of his gaze, the silent dominance in his posture, left no room for refusal. Slowly, your knees parted, the vulnerability of the act sending a rush of heat to your cheeks.

Jeno’s hand stilled momentarily, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths as his eyes roamed over you, dragging up your thighs with an intensity that left you breathless. “Good girl,” he muttered, his voice low, mocking. “You’re learning.”

Your chest tightened, your voice barely above a whisper as you asked, “Is this what you wanted?”

A dark smirk tugged at his lips, sharp and predatory, as his hand resumed its slow, torturous motion over himself. “You think this is about what I want?” he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. “Baby, this is about what you want. Isn’t it?”

Your mouth opened, the words trapped in your throat, and Jeno let out a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. His free hand gestured toward you, his fingers curling in a silent command.

“Dance for me,” he demanded, his voice thick with authority. “You wanted me to notice you? Now fucking earn it.”

“Jeno,” you stammered, shaking your head, your body trembling under the weight of his gaze. “I don’t—”

“Do it,” he interrupted sharply, his tone laced with impatience. “Move your fucking body. Make me want to touch you.”

Your cheeks burned as you swallowed the lump in your throat, your hips beginning to sway hesitantly. His eyes followed every movement, his hand tightening over himself as his breathing grew heavier.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his voice rough with restraint. “Slower. Let me see everything.”

Your hands trailed over your body, the touch igniting a fire under your skin as your fingers brushed over your breasts, your hips, teasing along the curves of your body. “Like this?” you asked softly, your voice trembling with a mix of nerves and desire.

Jeno groaned low in his throat, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his eyes darkened. His grip on himself tightened, his strokes growing deliberate and firm. “Just like that,” he muttered, his tone thick with need. “But don’t stop there, baby. Don’t hold back. Show me what I fucking do to you.”

The raw, dangerous edge in Jeno’s voice sent a shockwave of heat straight to your core, your entire body alive with a mix of fear and unbearable need. The weight of his gaze pushed you past hesitation, your hands trembling slightly before they moved with a bold, reckless urgency. Your fingers slid over your bare skin, lingering on the curves of your breasts as you cupped and squeezed, your thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples in a deliberate tease. The sharp jolt of sensation sent your back arching, your breaths turning into shallow gasps as your hands trailed lower, every movement slow and deliberate, meant to drive him—and yourself—insane.

Jeno’s breathing turned heavier, his chest rising and falling as his hand moved faster over his cock, his knuckles flexing as he gripped himself with a rough, punishing pace. His jaw clenched, and a dark, guttural growl slipped from his throat as his eyes burned into you, devouring every inch of your exposed skin with an intensity that made your legs tremble.

Your hands dipped lower, brushing over the softness of your thighs before one hand slipped boldly between them. Your fingers pressed against your slick heat, the contact making your knees weaken as you circled your clit with slow, deliberate pressure. A soft moan escaped your lips, the sound filling the tension-charged air between you. Your other hand gripped your breast harder, your fingers tugging at your nipple as you gave in to the raw need coursing through you. The combination of sensations sent a tremor through your body, your hips instinctively rolling against your hand, seeking more.

Jeno’s eyes were glued to you, his gaze heavy and smoldering as he muttered, “That’s it, baby,” his voice raw and dripping with hunger. “Touch yourself. Show me how much you need me. Don’t fucking hold back.” The heat in his words sent a thrill through your body, making you bolder as your fingers slid lower, dipping between your thighs to press against the slick heat there.

Your whimpers filled the room, mixing with the wet sounds of your arousal and the rhythmic slick of Jeno stroking himself through his boxers. His breathing grew heavier, his hand moving with a punishing pace as he leaned forward slightly, watching you with a sharp, dangerous intensity.

“Fuck,” he growled, his jaw tightening as his eyes burned into you. “Look at you. So fucking desperate. Keep going, baby. Don’t stop.”

The words spurred you on, your fingers moving faster, rougher, curling inside yourself as you bucked against your hand. The raw edge in his voice made you think—hope—that tonight might be different. That maybe he’d let you have what you wanted, let you fall apart under his gaze for once. But then, like a crack of lightning, the mood in the room shifted.

Jeno’s hand stilled suddenly, his expression darkening as his jaw clenched. His eyes, once heavy with lust, sharpened into something cold and unrelenting. Before you could process the change, he surged forward, grabbing your wrist in a brutal grip and yanking your hand away from yourself. The motion was so sudden, so rough, it left you gasping, your body frozen in shock.

“You really think you can fucking touch yourself without my permission?” he snarled, his voice razor-sharp and laced with fury. His fingers tightened around your wrist, holding it down against your side as he leaned in, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. “You thought I was serious? Thought I’d let you come tonight? After the shit you pulled?”

Your mind raced, trying to piece together where you’d gone wrong, but the sharp sting of his grip and the venom in his voice drowned out any coherent thought. “Jeno, I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, cutting you off with a brutal edge to his tone. “Don’t even try to talk your way out of this.” His other hand gripped your chin roughly, forcing your head up to meet his glare. “You thought teasing me all day—sending those texts, making me wait, wearing that fucking dress—wasn’t going to have consequences? You wanted to act like a brat, and now you think you get to come?”

His words hit you like a slap, and the realization sank in. He’d led you on, let you believe tonight might be different, just to punish you for pushing him too far. He’d known exactly what he was doing when he told you to touch yourself, letting you think you were in control, only to rip it away in the most brutal way possible.

“Answer me,” he snapped, his voice harsh as his fingers dug into your chin. “Who the fuck do you belong to?”

“You,” you choked out, your voice trembling under his hold, the mix of his anger and dominance leaving you breathless.

“That’s right,” he snarled, releasing your chin only to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back with a rough tug that sent a sharp jolt through your body. “So get on your fucking knees.”

You scrambled to obey, your legs shaking as you dropped to the floor. The tension in the room was suffocating, his dominance towering over you as he stood, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and dragging them down just enough to free his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, hard and throbbing, and despite the sharp sting of his grip on your hair, your mouth watered.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with disdain as his free hand pumped himself slowly. “You’re not coming tonight. Not after everything you’ve pulled. You’re going to spend the rest of this night on your knees, taking me however I want, and you’re going to fucking thank me for it.”

The sharp tug of his hand in your hair forced your head back, his cock brushing against your lips in a tease that made your thighs clench instinctively. His wicked smirk curled as he tilted your head just enough to make you look up at him, the promise of a long, merciless night reflected in the dark hunger of his gaze.

And yet, as your lips parted, anticipation curling low in your belly, you knew you wouldn’t want it any other way. It was the way he owned you completely, the way he stripped you of control and made you his, that left you trembling with need even as your release was ripped away. You knew tonight would leave you aching, unsatisfied, desperate—but that’s exactly why you loved it.

──────────────────────────────

[spookwyrdie]

Yule Be Mine

Changbin x fem Reader

summary: you're bringing Changbin home for the holidays for a big family dinner, but you have a fun little stocking surprise to give him. /// word count: 9.9k /// genre: smut, fluff /// warnings: thigh kink, oral sex (f receiving), teasing in public, spanking, overstimulation, a little breath play (chokehold), piv, unprotected sex, a little dacryphilia /// a/n: I had a crummy Thanksgiving and wanted to write something both sweet and hot about my fave muscle boy. Love a holiday feast, in more ways than one.

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I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

18+ content beyond the cut MDNI!

“Are you nervous?” you ask, hooking your earring in place, the final touch to your holiday outfit. 

Changbin appears behind you in the standing mirror, sliding one hand around your middle. His fingers toy with the belt buckle sitting on the waist of your dark green sweater dress. 

“Nervous about meeting your whole family? Nah, they’ll love me.” he says, sweeping your hair out of the way to press a kiss on the spot right behind your ear. “Your parents are already head over heels for me. Can’t wait to be the Fun Uncle for all your baby cousins.”

You grin as his eyes trail over the outline of your form, the softness of your body has him wetting his bottom lip. His gaze travels down to your sheer dark stockings, his big brown eyes mesmerized by you. You know how much he loves to see you in different kinds of hosiery, your thick thighs wrapped up like a gift for him to tear into. You grab his hand and spin around into his embrace.

“Good,” you mutter as your lips meet for a sweet, chaste kiss. You’re giddy with the little secret you’re going to surprise him with later. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

He’s the perfect gentleman as you start your journey, opening the door and offering you a hand as you slide into the car. Changbin’s cologne fills the interior, a warm spiced scent with a base of cedar that makes your head spin in the most delicious kind of way. You have half a mind to put off going to this grand holiday dinner, imagining how nice it would be to spend the evening in bed with the man beside you. Heat pools between your thighs, you rub them together to relieve some of the ache that settles there. 

But, you made a promise to your family, a nervous excitement churning in your belly at the thought of everyone meeting him. It helps distract from the hunger that simmers inside you. Holidays are big and important for your whole clan, so it means a lot that he’s feeling confident about your relationship to come with you.

  It’s about an hour drive to your destination, the cozy little home your parents have outside the city. Changbin can’t seem to keep his eyes on the road.

“Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?” he says, smirking as he tries not to ogle you in the car. 

“You could always stand to tell me more often,” you tease. 

“Well, then let me tell you now,” he says. “You look beautiful in anything, but I am a big fan of what you have on tonight.”

He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on your thigh, kneading your skin softly. You can feel the strength he’s holding back at this simple touch. The rest of the ride, he keeps his hand there as often as he can. 

Gravel crunches under the tires as you drive up the lane to your parents house. The temperature outside has dropped, the air heavy with the threat of snow, so the warm glow of the home looks so inviting. He parks next to the other cars that line the driveway, unclipping his seatbelt and moving to get out of the car.

“Wait,” you say, grabbing his arm. You place his hand back on your thigh. “I have a little surprise for you.”

He raises his eyebrows with a quizzical look. “What surprise, love?”

You slowly begin to slide his hand up your leg, pushing the hem of your dress up. As you let go of his hand, he pauses and looks at you, silently asking permission to continue. You bite your lip and nod. His hand moves, following the path up your thigh, taking his time to really get the soft feeling of your stockings under his finger tips.

He gasps as he feels the edge of your stockings stop almost at the apex between your legs.

“Love…” he murmurs. “Are you wearing thigh highs?”

You giggle as he hooks one finger under the edge of fabric, pulling it away from your skin. There’s a small indentation where the stretchy fabric bites into the plush of your thighs. You squeeze your legs together, seeking any sort of friction as your clit throbs from his touch. Changbin’s breath shudders as he grips onto your soft skin, digging his nails in slightly.

“You are such a fucking tease,” he huffs out, smiling with gritted teeth. “How am I supposed to meet your family when all I’m going to be thinking about is your thighs wrapped around my head in these?”

“I guess you’ll have to figure that out,” you say, cheekily. 

He releases your thigh, his hand coming up to grip your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. It’s like a sun burst, so much heat and energy radiating out of him in such a small amount of time as your lips clash. He nips at your bottom lip, pulling a small whimper out of you.

“You won’t get away with this,” he whispers against your lips playfully. “Just you wait.”

The giggle that escapes you does nothing to offset the spark of arousal that is building between the two of you. You would fuck him right here in the car if you didn’t think that anyone would catch you.

He gets out of the car and comes around to your door, helping you out and pulling you into his arms once more. Just then, the front door bursts open and your mother stands in the doorway.

“Y/n! You made it!” She waves you two over. “I was worried about the weather for you two.”

Changbin’s hand never leaves the small of your back as you both walk towards the front porch, sparkling with the string of holiday lights blinking in rhythm. Your mother pulls you into a hug, kissing your temple. “Dinner is supposed to start in about a half hour, but we’ll see how that goes with your father in the kitchen.”

She turns to Changbin, her eyes widening at his attire. His outfit is casual but pressed and neat. He had everything tailored exactly to fit his wide shoulders and thick muscles. His thighs, arms, and chest all strain against the fabric slightly, subtly showing off the strength he has worked so hard for.  He made sure to coordinate with you, so there’s a small pocket square in his jacket pocket that matches the exact color of your dress. 

“Changbin!” she exclaims. “I’m so glad you made it! I’ve been telling everyone about the handsome young man Y/n is bringing tonight.”

“Well I hope to live up to all their handsome expectations,” he says, grinning at you before your mom pulls him into an affectionate hug. 

“Of course,” she replies, patting his shoulders. “Everyone will love you!”

She ushers the two of you into the house. The house smells like apples and spice. There’s a crackling fire dancing in the hearth. The scent of dinner wafts occasionally through the room. Your aunts and uncles and cousins are all there, sitting around the fire, the din of conversation filling the space as their bodies sink comfortably into the couches and chairs. You can hear your younger cousins running through the house, playing as they stampede through the different rooms.

The size of your family can be daunting, but there’s no hint of anxiety on Changbin’s face as you introduce him to everyone in the room. He makes his rounds, shaking hands, hugging, kissing the occasional cheek in greeting - he’s a natural. You feel yourself flush with pride at the sense of ease he has, turning on the charm.

“Does someone have an extra pair of hands to help in the kitchen for a minute?” Your dad hollers into the living room. Changbin is the first to respond, dragging you into the kitchen. After a warm greeting and a firm handshake, your dad piles plates, utensils, and napkins in your arms to set the table. As you move around the huge dinner table, Changbin catches your eye with a smirk. You’re alone for a moment in this room. He swoops down, gathering you up in his arms suddenly and kisses along your cheekbone.

“Ewwww!” One of your baby cousins shouts when he rounds the corner and catches you and Changbin in the middle of a sweet moment. “They’re KISSING in here!”

Laughter booms from the other room. The comfortable atmosphere and domestic care Changbin is showing you tonight is hitting you especially hard tonight. Your heart races a little as your feelings for him swell, woven together with lust. 

You love him. 

You want him. 

“Dinner’s ready!” your dad yells, startling the two of you out of your moment. His cheeks rosy with exertion and his little festive apron smudged with gravy.

Everyone shuffles in slowly as your mom and dad bring in dish after dish, filling every square inch of the table until it’s packed with potatoes, meat, hot dishes, and multiple gravy boats. The feast is gigantic, the table itself nearly groaning under the weight of all the food. 

You and Changbin take your seats near the end of the table, scooting as close together as you can so your legs sit flush against one another. The way your skin lights up at the smallest touches from him makes you feel dizzy. Everytime you hand him a new dish to pile onto his plate, he makes sure that his fingers brush over yours, lingering a little longer than normal. You’ve been together for just about a year now and he still knows how to make you blush like you just started dating.

Wine bottles get passed around, poured into vintage stem glasses. You take a small glass of one of the reds to sip on. It’s not like you need any alcohol to loosen you up, you already feel drunk off the warmth radiating from the man sitting next to you. 

Once everyone at the table has a plate, Changbin takes a bite. His contented groan fills the room. 

“Compliments to the chef!” he says after a few moments, raising his fork up as if to toast your dad across the room. “Y/n, have you tried the turkey yet?”

“Not yet, I’m still working on all my sides first,” you giggle.

“You have to have a bite right now,” he says, cutting off a small piece and holding up the fork to your mouth. As you open your mouth, his gaze drops to your lips as he feeds you the piece of meat and pulls the fork from between your lips slowly. His eyes darken, following your every move, clenching his jaw to keep his face neutral. That spark between you flickers again as you imagine something else he could slide between your lips. Changbin’s pupils flare in the low light of the dining room. 

The meal slows until the plates are practically licked clean. Everyone is in a serene stupor, sipping on drinks as conversations overlap at the table. No one is really paying attention to the two of you. 

Changbin shifts his body to face you, and decides to give you a little surprise of his own.

His hand finds your thigh again, trailing his fingertips around the inside of your knee. You shift a little, the light brush of his fingers almost ticklish. Following a similar path up your inner thigh, he traces over the fabric of your stockings, pushing the hem of your dress up slowly the higher his hand climbs. 

This is so wrong to get so turned on while surrounded by your family, but you don’t want him to stop. He finds the edge of your thigh highs again, dragging his nails lightly over the sensitive skin that peeks out above the elastic of your stockings. You wiggle your hips and clear your throat, trying to play it off like he has no effect on you. 

You hear Changbin inhale sharply as his fingers ghost over the sheer lace of your barely-there panties. You shoot him a bratty little grin, knowing how much his teeth must ache to rip them off. You pick up your wine glass and take a sip, pointedly ignoring his gaze as he continues to move his fingers against your most intimate spot. The thrill of doing something so dirty at the dinner table, possibly getting caught, heightens the feeling of every little touch.

He can feel the heat coming off of your skin, a damp spot of arousal already seeping through the lace of your panties. He casually shifts your panties to the side, pressing one finger gently but insistently between your folds, feeling how wet you are. You have to control the need to roll your hips into his hand, your legs quiver with effort. As his fingers massage through your folds, you lift the wine glass to your lips again, trying to hide the small moan that tries to leave your lips.

He finds your clit and gives it a light tap with his finger.

Your body jolts as you splutter into your wine glass as electricity shoots through your core and up your spine. You cough, having inhaled some of your wine, as every head at the table turns towards you suddenly. 

Changbin’s hand was out from between your legs in less than a heartbeat, moved with lightning speed to your back where he gently rubs a comforting circle between your shoulder blades. He leans towards you, a look of fake concern painted on his face - as if he wasn’t the one pulling your strings, trying to unravel you at the dinner table.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Your mother calls from the other end of the table.

“Yeah, Y/n,” Changbin’s brow knits together with worry. But you see it. There’s a sneaky little glint in his eye, knowing that he got you back for teasing him in the car earlier. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong pipe,” your voice creaks out between coughs. Your eyes water as you cough, but you give everyone a thumbs up to let them know you’re okay. You move to stand up from your seat. “I’ll be back in a bit!”

As you head towards the bathroom down the hall, the conversation at the table goes back to the volume it was before you made everyone stare at you. When you get to the small bathroom, you shakily close the door and lock it. The pulse of lust coursing through you is intense judging by the slick feeling between your legs. You lean your hands on the bathroom counter and look in the mirror. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes dilated, and your skin has a feverish glow to it. You haven’t been this turned on in a while. 

As you weigh the pros and cons of getting yourself off in the bathroom to calm your nerves before returning to the table, there’s a small knock at the door. You practically jump out of your skin.

“Y/n? It’s just me,” Changbin’s voice calls from the other side. “I told everyone I was coming to check on you.”

“I’m okay, Binnie,” you call out, a slight waver in your voice. 

“Can I come in?”

You walk over to the locked door and open it. Changbin slides into the space with you, closing the door behind him quietly.

He wrings his hands, a little line of actual worry appearing between his brows. “Hey I just wanted to check that I didn’t overstep, that wasn’t really something we talked about bef-”

His words get caught in his throat as you pull him in by the collar and slant your lips over his. Pressing as much of your body against his, needing his touch more than anything in the world. His arms wind their way around your body, squeezing you tightly with his strong grip. Your tongues tangle as he moans into your mouth, letting you lead the way for a bit.

One of your hands snakes behind his head, threading your fingers into his hair to tug on. As you pull, his mouth detaches from yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His eyes flutter shut at the tension you hold his head with, cradling his skull in your hand. You marvel at the beautiful planes of his face for a second, the subtle flush rising to his cheeks, jaw slackened at the feeling, before you attach your lips to his neck.

“No marks tonight,” he whispers hurriedly. “We still have to - nnnnnngh-”

Instead of sucking onto his sensitive skin below his ear, you opt to scrape your teeth on it, feeling his knees buckle slightly at the sensation. His hands grip into your dress more harshly now, walking you back towards the edge of the sink. The back of your thighs meet the cold tile of the counter, knocking you slightly off balance. 

Changbin takes this opportunity to lean your body back slightly, looming over you with his wide shoulders as he moves to stand in between your legs. He captures your lips with his again, searing you with his kiss. Your hands grab at whatever parts of him are nearest to touch, needing him closer. You can feel his cock hardening already as he presses his pelvis against yours. Hips rolling into his automatically, you are practically ready to fuck yourself on his clothed cock if necessary.

“Binnie, please, I need-” 

“What do you need, hm? Tell Binnie what you need.” His voice is husky with a playful tinge of teasing. He rocks his hips into yours in one harsh move.

All you can do is moan. Changbin claps a hand over your mouth as your eyes roll back. 

“Shhhh, love,” he whispers through a smirk. “Everyone will hear us. Those noises are only for me, understand?”

You nod your head against his hand, kiss into his palm as best you can. He releases your mouth and pulls your face towards his again, pressing an achingly sweet kiss on your lips.

“I know what my baby needs,” he murmurs. “Are you sure you can stay quiet?”

“Mm-mhmm,” is all you can say. 

He drops down to his knees, running his hands up your legs, marveling at the smooth, sheer fabric of the stockings once more. You lean your weight back onto the tile counter, looking down at Changbin worshiping at your feet. He pulls one leg up, kissing you on the inside of your ankle and rubs his cheek on the smooth stockings.

“These are going to be the death of me,” he murmurs as he trails kisses as he moves up, stopping every few inches to admire your legs. He pushes up your dress a little as he gets to the top of your stockings on your thigh, pressing a kiss right where the fabric meets your skin. His teeth find the edge of the sheer elastic and pull it away from your leg, looking up at you from below. 

The image of his dark eyes awash with arousal holding your stockings between his teeth burns itself into your memory. You place one hand on his head, threading your fingers into his hair and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. 

He groans at the sensation, eyes rolling back as he lets the elastic snap back harshly onto your skin. A little yelp leaves your throat, turning into more of a whimper as his mouth attaches to your inner thigh and sucks an angry red mark into the sensitive skin. You can feel more arousal seep out of your lace panties.

“I thought we said no marks,” you pant out as he continues littering the inside of your thighs with blooming red marks. He’s so close to where you need him most. Every time he gets close to your pussy, you can feel yourself clench - only to be passed over, biting at the plush flesh of your thighs. 

“No one will be looking for them here, love,” he says, pausing to admire his artwork. “These are for me.”

His eyes fall onto the garment clinging to your skin with how wet they are. He leans down and slowly presses a kiss right on your cloth covered cunt. You shudder in his grasp, held steady by his hands. He picks up the edge of your panties with his tongue, pulling the lace between his teeth. With one deft move with his hand, he roughly twists the thin fabric and rips your panties to shreds. You gasp at the tug of his strong hands, melting into his touch.

The cold air hits your wet skin, and you feel your clit throb. Changbin puts the shredded remnants of your panties in his pocket, knowing how much he loves to keep little trophies like this. He pushes the hem of your dress up to your hips, leaving a small kiss on each side of your hips. He’s obsessed with your legs and hips, loving the size of them, the soft flesh yielding to his control, as if his hands are the chisel that sculpts your body. 

The width of his shoulders pushes your legs open as he leans closer, hovering millimeters away from your cunt, his breath ghosting over your skin. 

“Bin, pleas-” but your plea turns into a sharp gasp as he finally descends, kissing your clit with his perfect, plump lips. His eyes close as he savors your taste. He feels like he’s at home here, between your thighs is exactly where he needs to be. 

You cover your own mouth with your hand to stifle a moan as Changbin’s soft tongue caresses against your clit. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You feel like you’re teetering on the edge, but he holds you back with the slow pace, savoring the way your hips shiver with each lick.

Changbin pulls his mouth off you for a split second, running his tongue further down to your entrance. His nose brushes through your folds and bumps against your clit. You let out a muffled keen into the palm of your hand, eyes rolling back. 

You can’t help yourself, you begin rutting against his face, pushing his nose into you further. You look down, finding his gaze burning into you from below, eyes crinkling in amusement at your desperation. He pulls away from your body for a moment with a grin.

“Someone is so needy tonight,” he says, the entire lower half of his face shining with the combination of his saliva and your essence. You whine at the loss, but Changbin has other plans.

He hoists both of your thighs over his shoulders, bracing your weight against him while his arms wrap around your legs securely. He is strong in ways you could never imagine, holding you up while he moves to lap at your cunt again. Faster and faster, like a starved man having his first meal in weeks, his fingers leaving little indents in your skin as his movements get more feral. The familiar feeling of hot electricity builds in your pelvis, your muscles clenching around nothing as you prepare to fall off the face of the earth. 

His tongue barrages your clit, little whimpers trying to escape as you slam your eyes shut. Drool gathers between the fingers that clamp over your mouth, making your palm slippery. The other hand flails wildly, looking for something to grab hold. You find his head, fingers tangling into his fluffy hair harshly. 

You feel him groan, the sound reverberating through your center. At that, he pulls your clit into the heat of his mouth, sucking hard as his tongue doesn’t stop moving, bullying the sensitive bundle of nerves.

There’s no sound at first as your orgasm crashes over you, your muscles fluttering and your eyes rolling back. You forget to breathe, floating between layers of consciousness, as your erratic heartbeat matches the rhythm of your clenching muscles. Both of your hands are in his hair now as you writhe against his face. He’s the one thing keeping you from collapsing as you feel your soul leave your body. You swallow down the moan that he pulls from your throat, trying to keep quiet still. 

Even as you start to come down off your high, he keeps going, your clit taking on a painful sensitivity. Each flick of his tongue jolts up your spine, your gasps shuddering out of you as you find your lungs again. You try pushing on his head to no avail, he’s got you pinned, overstimulating you as you jerk your hips to try and get away from the friction. 

Finally, he pulls off of you with a smile, the lower half of his face drenched. He helps set your legs down onto the ground, wobbling like a newborn deer. Right before he releases you, he plants one more featherlight kiss to your clit, the shock of it buckles your knees as you collapse into his arms. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, pressing kisses into your hair. “Binnie’s got you.”

You whine, your throat raspy, as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms encircle you, shifting your weight so he can sit and lean back against the wall with you on his lap, wrapped around him. He rubs soothing circles into your back, bringing you back down to earth and into your body. 

“That good, huh?” once he feels you begin to stir, planting little exhausted kisses into the side of his neck. 

All you can manage is a quiet “Mmm,” in agreement.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs into your hair. “We have a dinner to get back to.”

Your eyes shoot open, jolting up suddenly.

“Oh my god! Everyone is still waiting for us!” you jump up to your feet, your thighs still quivering. Changbin just giggles, following your lead. He helps you get cleaned up, smoothing your wild hair, making sure your dress looks neat. You look presentable, the only evidence giving you away is that your lips are a little swollen and your eyes are brighter than before.

“Ready to get back out there?” you say, turning to Changbin.

“Well…” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not yet. You head back out there first. I’ll follow you in a few minutes.”

You give him a curious look, he gives you a sheepish smile as he points down. He’s hard, his cock straining against his slacks in an extremely noticeable way. Your eyes bug out.

“I didn’t even think about that! Let me help,” you say, reaching for his belt. He snatches your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips and kisses your palm.

“No, love,” he smiles. “I’m going to splash some water on my face and calm down. Don’t worry about me, you can help me later.”

His eyes darken for a moment as he smirks. Even though he just fucked you with his mouth until you nearly passed out, you feel a small thrill shoot up your spine again. Pulling him in for another small kiss, you nod. You smooth your dress as you exit, looking over your shoulder to see Changbin smiling, his bottom lip between his teeth. It makes you blush. Even after a year, seeing all the love and adoration in his eyes gives you butterflies.

~~~

As you shut the door behind you, Changbin feels his heart swell in his chest. He can’t get enough of you, it squeezes his ribs like a vice. Getting you to cum on his tongue over and over was one of the highlights of his life. He could live between your thighs, wrapping around his head, smothering him until all that surrounds him is you. 

Tonight was only slightly different. As he dropped to his knees, he thought about getting on one knee instead. He wants you forever. You’re just lucky he doesn’t keep the ring on him or else he would’ve proposed over a dozen times at this point. You deserve something more planned out and special.

Changbin turns to the mirror, fixing his hair and readjusting himself so his erection is less noticeable. The torn remnants of your lace panties burn a hole in his pocket. He wants to clench them in his fist and bring them to his nose, but he can’t. He knows it’ll just make him harder, the thought alone making him twitch against the fabric of his slacks. He has to ground himself, he’s still in your family home. You’re waiting for him out there. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

As he breathes, he still has the hint of your essence on his face. He would wear it like a fragrance if he could. He’s going to marry you one day, he knows it. The way his chest aches with the feeling, it gives him something to distract the way his cock throbs. Even though Changbin wants forever with you to begin now, he can be patient. If anyone is an expert on delaying gratification, it’s Changbin. Good things come to those who wait.

Once he feels like he’s calm enough, he heads back out to the dining room to join you. 

~~~

You walk back to the dining room, practically floating your way there. 

“Y/n, you’re back! Are you feeling okay?” your dad says as you sit back down at the table. You’re acutely aware of how bare you are under your dress without your panties, feeling very exposed. 

“Hmm? Oh… yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

“Where’s Changbin?”

“He’s probably in the bathroom. He… brought me my inhaler. The coughing, y’know, made my asthma flare,” you lie.

“That’s probably why you’re all red still,” your mom comments. You feel your cheeks burn brighter. Just how fucked out do you still look?

“I bet they were kissing in there!” your baby cousin announces. Everyone in the room gives a theatrical gasp before chuckling at her comment. Your eyes widen. Did anyone hear you?

“Only on the cheek, I promise,” Changbin says, sidling into the room again. He sits down next to you, grabbing your hand to kiss your knuckles. The way he has charmed everyone is so effortless. He looks so normal, blending right back in with the dinner atmosphere. In the mere hours you’ve been surrounded by company, he’s got your family wrapped around his finger. 

Dessert gets served, there are so many different kinds of sweets to choose from. Holidays with your family are never short of sugary baked goods. Changbin spends half of his time feeding you little bits of everything, making sure you don’t miss out on any flavors. 

Every once in a while, he’ll purposefully make a small mess on your lip so he can wipe it off with his thumb, so he can bring it to his mouth to lick it clean. Changbin has a way of mixing gentle caring with hot temptation that pushes all of your buttons in the best ways. The teasing goes on and on, you feel yourself squeezing your legs together again. The sensation of getting wet with no panties on makes you feel so dirty but so, so ready for him. You are going to absolutely ruin this man when you get back home. 

Everyone is full to the brim, sipping on hot drinks while the contented drowsiness of a good meal wafts around the room. Changbin has his arm slung around the back of your chair, pressing as close as he is able to in polite company. When he laughs, you feel his breath move your hair. When he chats with your aunts and uncles about his job, you feel his voice rumble through you. You put your hand on his knee, tenderly rubbing your thumb across the thick muscle. Everything feels absolutely perfect in this moment. 

Your mom comes into the room again. 

“Bad news, guys. It’s snowing. The forecast for this evening doesn't look good, we’re supposed to be getting a few inches tonight.”

Everyone groans, starting to murmur about what they’re going to do. You and a few others in your family get up and dash over to the window. Sure enough, fluffy white flakes piled together like cotton balls are floating down steadily from the sky. The string lights are barely visible anymore, little glowing spots under a thin layer of snow.

Your mom claps her hands together.

“But! We’ve got enough room and tons of blankets, so everyone is staying put,” she announces. “The local guy with the big snow plow will come out sometime tomorrow morning, so you’ll be able to leave then.”

Damn your luck. How are you supposed to fuck Changbin until both of you can’t walk if you’re stuck in a house with your huge family. The slick feeling between your thighs begs for attention, frustration building up inside you at the news you’ll be spending the night. But there’s nothing you can do about it now, your mom isn’t going to let anyone leave this house tonight. 

You sigh as you stand up, Changbin close behind.

“Come on, let’s go help with pillows and blankets,” you say, grabbing his hand to lead him to the linen closet. 

There you find all the air mattresses, sheets, pillows, and blankets that your parents keep for such an occasion. Once the guest rooms are full, everyone else will be on the floor, but they will be comfortable. Grabbing a huge stack, you both walk towards the living room to set everyone up.

Your dad pulls you aside.

“Y/n, we still have your old room set up. Normally we wouldn’t allow this, but since we’re pretty full of people, you and Changbin can both stay in there,” he says.

“But no funny business!” your mom says, jokingly ribbing at Changbin. Your jaw drops.

“Mom!” You can’t believe what she’s implying. 

“I will be the perfect gentleman,” he says, raising his hand. “Scouts honor. I’ll even sleep on the floor.”

Both of your parents nod, his word is satisfactory - how could it not be? Changbin has been nothing but kind, attentive, and practically perfect all evening. They obviously don’t know about what happened in the bathroom earlier, and they never will. 

~~~

Leading Changbin to your childhood room feels so strange. Your parents converted it long ago into another guest bedroom, but there are still remnants of your time here. There are little lines to measure your height at different ages on the door frame, photos of you from when you were younger on the walls, and all the things you left in your parents home stored in plastic bins in the closet. Changbin smiles when he sees the measurements, looking at the ages written on each one.

He sets down the stack of blankets and pillows he had in his hand to build himself a floor bed. It would make the room a bit snug, butting up right next to your childhood twin bed. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, “I have to grab something from the car.”

You shrug as he trots away, unfolding the thick blankets to make him a little spot to sleep. After laying the blankets flat, layering them on top of one another, you get on your hands and knees to smooth out the corners for comfort. In this position, you feel the cold air on the backs of your thighs. Awareness of your lack of panties and arousal are very apparent, bringing a small blush to your face. 

“Now that’s a sight I’ll never get tired of,” Changbin’s voice murmurs from behind you suddenly. You gasp, startled by his silent return. He comes up behind you, throwing his gym bag onto your bed, the springs of the mattress squeaking as it bounces slightly.

“What’d you grab from the car?” you ask as he comes up behind you, leaning down to smooth his palm over the swell of your ass. 

“I always keep an extra pair of clothes in my gym bag, so we have something to change into,” he murmurs, focusing solely on palming your ass for a moment. He stands up suddenly, going over to the gym back and unzipping it. He tosses you a black shirt. “Something comfy to sleep in.”

In truth, Changbin just loved seeing you wear his clothes. He loved seeing how they fit your body, knowing you’re going to smell like him. It’s a subtle possessiveness, one that always makes you weak in the knees. He pulls out a pair of workout shorts for himself and begins ridding himself of his tidy dinner clothes. 

As he unbuttons his shirt, you stop to ogle him. The shape of him never fails to leave you speechless - wide shoulders, thick arms, a layer of comfort on top of pure strength - it makes every part of him something you want to grab onto. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thighs as he takes off his slacks. His thigh muscles are so inviting, framed by the pair of black boxer briefs he has on. You feel that rush of heat settle deep in your pelvis again. Maybe Changbin isn’t the only one with a thing for thighs.

He smirks, a little sideways smile, when he catches you staring at him. 

“Now, I don’t remember agreeing to be the only one who’s undressed,” he says, sauntering towards you in just his boxer briefs, abandoning the shorts on the floor. One finger finds your belt buckle, dragging you towards his body. He unclips the buckle, dropping the belt to the floor. His hands find your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress up again. Goosebumps spread on your skin as he grabs the fabric, bunching it up on your waist, looking at you bared for him. 

Changbin lets out a shuddering breath. In the muted incandescent light of your old bedroom, your skin glows. He quickly pulls the dress over your head. You nearly lose your balance with how fast he tries to undress you, stumbling into him with a giggle. 

“I’ve got you!” he chuckles. You’re just in your bra and stockings now, with Changbin’s arms wrapped around you, pressing a kiss against your temple. 

For a moment, you just look at one another, matching grins on your face. You’ve never had someone make you feel so secure in their love and care of you. When Changbin takes control, you know you have someone who has your best interest at heart as you surrender. He lets you direct him, providing you with his strength in whatever way makes you feel the best.

Both your faces gravitate toward one another, meeting for an achingly sweet kiss. There’s no rushing, exploring one another as if it’s the first time every time. His fingers slide up your body, softly gripping the back of your neck. You pull back slightly, watching his eyes flutter as he leans towards you to chase your kiss. Your lips brush against his tenderly before they travel across his cheek towards his ear. His arms drop to your sides as he pulls you in closer with a whine. Your teeth nip at his earlobe, lightly pulling on his small hoop earring. His ears are so sensitive, his knees buckle at the feeling of your tongue tracing the shell of his ear. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, knowing your skin will be littered with tiny bruises tomorrow.

Your tongue finds the spot just beneath his ear on his neck, feeling his hips buck into yours at the sensation. Another whine spills from his mouth.

“Now who’s the one that has to be quiet?” you whisper against his neck, pressing a hand against his mouth. “Do you want everyone to know what we’re doing?”

Changbin shakes his head, his arms squeezing you tighter. 

“Then be a good boy and be quiet,” you mutter, smiling against his neck. He moans, muffled by your hand. You press two fingers against his lips and he sucks them greedily, showing you exactly what he wants to do to other parts of you. His hands skim over your back, landing on where your bra hooks together. 

“Do not rip this one,” you say, your tone laced with warning. “This was expensive.”

He huffs out a laugh with your fingers still in the wet heat of his mouth. His fingers are nimble, carefully unhooking the clasp. Your breasts spill out of the cups as he pulls it off of you, palming them as soon as he tosses the garment across the room. His hands are so warm as they massage into your skin. Every touch is electric, especially when his thumbs graze over your nipples. 

You pop your fingers out of Changbin’smouth, dragging them down his chest, leaving a wet trail of his drool on his skin. The tip of your index finger finds his nipple and you feel his body tremble. His hands drop to your hips again, pushing gently as he walks you backwards towards your bed. The backs of your knees find the mattress and you slump down, sitting on the bed. The old springs and bed frame squeak and groan as your body bounces on the bed, echoing into the quiet night. You both cringe at the sound, giggling.

“The bed will give us away,” Changbin says, shaking his head. He smacks the top of the mattress as if reprimanding it. “Snitch.”

“So you’ll spank the mattress but not me?” you say, gasping in mock horror. “Cheat!”

Changbin smirks as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, seeing where this is going. He kneels onto the floor between your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulls you down towards him. You flail about, squirming away from him, pretending to wrestle out of his grip. He’s like a mountain, unmovable, holding you securely while you wiggle around. 

“You want to get spanked but won’t stop moving?” he chuckles, flipping you over so you lay across his lap with your ass up. “Brat!”

The first swat is light and sudden, right where your thigh meets your cheek. You yelp from the shock of it, more giggles bubbling up. You wiggle your ass from side to side to taunt him, silently begging for more. His hands roam the sensitive skin of your ass and thighs, grabbing and massaging. Your hips quake under his touch, whimpering at his unhurried movements.

“Bin, please,” you pout, pushing back against his hand. 

“No, you started this, my love. I’ll be the one to finish it,” he says, pinching you on the back of the thigh.

“Hey!”

“You said you wanted to help me earlier,” Changbin murmurs, hooking two fingers under the elastic of your stockings. He tugs on the stretchy fabric, pulling it taut. The sleek fabric bites into the skin of your thigh the further he pulls it up. “This helps.”

He lets go, snapping the elastic against your skin. You gasp, arching your back, feeling a gush of arousal between your legs at the sudden sting. He repeats this on the other leg, watching how the snap of elastic moves against your soft skin. You hear him suck in a breath through his teeth. 

A hand comes down on your right cheek suddenly, the sound of the smack lingering in the air. You bite down on your lip as you whine, trying to muffle the sound. Changbin’s free hand comes around to grip your mouth, squeezing your cheeks til your lips pop open.

“Quiet!” he hisses in your ear. “I’m not trying to wake anyone up.”

He shoves his middle and ring finger into your mouth, smacking your ass again, alternating each cheek with every spank. He presses down on your tongue, saliva pooling in your mouth, slicking down his fingers. He grunts as you suck on his fingers, pulling them further into the heat of your mouth, swirling your tongue against them. 

The spanks have warmed you up, the sensitive skin on your ass and thighs blooming with heat. Changbin takes a break from spanking, massaging his reddening artwork gently. His hand roams down your thighs, kneading the skin. Slipping his hand between your legs, his fingers delicately brush against your folds.

“Fffuck,” he hisses out. “You’re so fucking wet.”

You moan in response, trying to press back into his hand. Your whole cunt throbs with need, clenching around nothing. You need some part of him, anything, inside of you right away. He keeps his touch light, barely skimming over the skin of your sensitive pussy.

“So wet, you greedy thing,” he whispers in your ear. His fingers “Coming once in the bathroom wasn’t enough for you? You need more?”

You nod feverishly, wiggling against him, seeking any sort of friction. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes, glittering in the low light. 

Changbin pops his fingers out of your mouth, chuckling as he smears your drool over the lower half of your face. 

“You’re already making such a mess,” he murmurs. “I know what you need. Binnie’s got you.”

He leans over, wrapping his arm delicately around your neck so your head rests in the crook of his arm. The chokehold he has you in feels steady, controlled. His hand comes down on your ass, the sound of the slap echoing in the room again. Your hips jolt, whimpering. Changbin slowly flexes his bicep, curling the muscle around your neck leisurely. You can still breathe, but the pressure on the sides of your neck increases, making your head feel fuzzy. 

Changbin sinks one finger into you, simultaneously pressing against your clit with his thumb. A moan tries to leave your throat, but it rasps out as he flexes again. He rubs against you gently from the inside and out, your eyes rolling back in your head, a thrill shooting up your spine. He sinks a second finger into you, stretching you out slightly with each thrust of his hand. You feel the dull beginning of your peak approaching slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. 

Your hands come up to grip his arm, nails scraping against his muscle. The whole time he’s been playing with you like some fine tuned instrument, he’s been whispering in your ear. The lack of blood flow to your brain makes it difficult to hear, but you can feel his breath on your ear. He pulls his fingers out suddenly and loosens the grip of his chokehold. As the blood rushes back to your head, he lands one last smack, directly in the center of your ass, inches away from your pussy.

Your muscles clench, body lurching from the sting, while the building orgasm fades suddenly. You feel a little dizzy from all the blood rushing back into your head. Frustration bursts through the hazy clouds in your head.

“Bin! Wha-” but you don’t get to finish your sentence. Changbin is once again maneuvering your body around, laying you gently down on the floor on your back. 

“You thought it was going to be that easy?” he smirks, placing a pillow underneath your hips as he kneels between your legs. “After teasing me for the last few hours, you thought I’d go easy on you when I got you alone?”

You pout, kicking your feet a little. He grins at your pathetic act, grabbing your ankles. He puts them up on his shoulders, lifting your lower body to rest on his thighs. You feel how hard he is now, his thick cock straining against the material of his underwear. The way he slides his hands up your leg, slowly from ankle to thigh, stopping to admire the way your thighs look in your dark stockings again, has you nearly keening. 

“Bin, please, I need you,” you beg, looking up at him with the most desperate little line forming between your brows.

Changbin just giggles, pulling down the waistband of his boxer briefs until his cock springs free.

“I know, you needy little baby, I know,” he replies. “You’re going to let me play with you for a bit before I let you come again.”

His hands slide to your hips, pressing your thighs together. With one hand, he lines up his cock like he’s about to fuck you, it makes you perfectly delirious at the thought of him filling you up. 

Instead, he slides himself right between your thighs.

You’re so wet, he glides right through the junction of where your thighs meet your cunt. The drag of his cock over your clit makes you gasp. Changbin pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his head thrown back as he feels how your soft, wet thighs envelop his cock. He thrusts slowly, feeling every inch of your plush flesh as his cock nudges against your aching clit. 

“Fuck, I could just die right here and I’d be happy,” he pants out. His hips shove against yours as he thrusts, making your whole body bounce. Your hands fly to your breasts, holding them as they bounce from his movements. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, holding back the moans from the frustration and bliss. It’s so much, Changbin is everywhere, holding you up, rutting against you. But it’s not enough. You need him closer.

Suddenly, he pulls away from your body with a strangled groan. As he drops your legs, you look down, watching his flushed cock bobbing helplessly in the air. He takes several deep breaths, willing himself not to come. Not yet. 

As his heartbeat slows a little, he pulls your hips towards him again.

“I can’t wait anymore, baby,” he murmurs. “I have to feel you.”

“Finally, fuck-” you say.

Changbin looks at you, raising an eyebrow as one side of his mouth quirks into a cocky little grin. He pulls you towards him harshly, wrapping your legs around his waist again. He lines up his cock, slick from all the teasing he’s done, and positions the tip right at your entrance. If you’re going to act like that, he can wait a bitlonger just to mess with you a little more. 

“If you want it so bad,” he says, “Come get it.”

He holds your hips steady, only the tip of his cock barely pressing against your entrance. You grunt from the effort of trying to pull your body towards him, trying to make him sink into you. With every move you make, he matches it in the opposite direction, teasing you with his cock, not giving you what you want. 

“Bin, PLEASE,” you whine, trying to keep your voice down, but you’re too keyed up to relax.

Changbin coos at your annoyance.

“Poor thing,” he mocks you with a pitying frown. His hands roam around your pelvis, brushing his fingertips over the most sensitive areas between your hips. “Poor pathetic little baby. You want my cock that bad? Want me to fuck you dumb on my cock?”

You narrow your eyes at his haughty teasing. Determined to back at him, you hook your legs securely around his hips, using the leverage of your position to pull his body towards you.

The strangled moan that comes out of his mouth is almost as good as the way his cock feels as you pull him in, sinking into your warmth slowly. Your eyes flutter, the sting from the stretch of his thick cock makes you forget how to breathe for a moment. Changbin’s fingers dig into your hips, trying to hold himself back from pistoning into you hard and fast. He still wants to drag this out. You’re already on the edge of losing your mind, your muscles clench in anticipation. You feel like you’re about to crash any second.

One of his hands remains fully on your hip while the other splays on your lower belly, thumb brushing lightly over your clit. 

“Oh fuck!” you gasp as you tremble. Changbin giggles, fully sheathed inside you, as he applies gentle pressure onto your clit. 

Your orgasm rips through you unexpectedly, your whole body quivering as your pelvic muscles flutter round his cock. Clenching your teeth, you swallow down the noises trying to burst forth from your mouth.  Your eyes are wide, surprise plastered on your face as you hold Changbin’s gaze. His cocky attitude fades into a look of gentle devotion. He loves when he unravels you like this, bending your body to his will and watching you react as you fight it. The push and pull between the two of you is so finely tuned at this point, it makes both of your hearts sing. 

The tears that were welling up in your eyes trickle down the sides of your face as you throw your head back, rocking against Changbin with a cry. He meets every one of your movements with a deep flick of his hips, drawing out every last ounce of your orgasm. Air finds your lungs again in disjointed breaths, like your body has been reset.

Changbin keeps rhythmically driving his hips into yours slowly, each one with deft precision. Even as your clit becomes too sensitive to touch on the outside, he thrusts into you at an unhurried pace, the coil in your lower belly beginning to tighten again. You’re too sensitive, it takes on a painful edge, every movement like a kiss and a slap at the same time. You tremble from the overstimulation, your chest vibrating with small sobs, feeling like you’re floating outside of your body. 

The one thing grounding you is Changbin. His strength, his hands, his gaze - all keeping you tethered while the rest of you feels like you’re drifting in water. You feel yourself react to him, the mix of arousal and sweat slipping between your bodies. Changbin’s breathing picks up, his hips faltering as he watches you fall apart once more. Impossibly, your pussy clamps down on him again, pulsing with the intensity of a second orgasm crashing over you. 

He looks at you in awe. The two of you have been together for a while now, but every time, it’s like it’s brand new when he watches you come. He could watch forever, suspended in this moment, reliving it over and over again. He loves watching you as you throw yourself into his trust, falling into an abyss knowing that he’s holding you. He’s got you.

It’s that very thought that pushes him over the edge. His eyes squeeze shut, feeling his balls tighten, his hips slamming into you. Your body is malleable, all your energy is gone. Your hands loosely grip onto his arms, looking up at him with a dopey, fucked out smile. He spills inside of you, clenching his teeth as he groans. He loses himself in you in the same way, forgetting anything else matters other than the feeling of being close to you. 

He pumps you full of every last drop he has, nearly collapsing against you, catching himself on his arms as he cages his body around yours. Your lips find his in a messy, exhausted kiss, tasting the desperation, the love, and the care on each others’ tongues. 

You fall asleep on the floor like this, wrapped around one another.

~~~

When you wake up, you’re on the floor alone, cocooned in a soft duvet. A moment of panic is soothed by a small note on the pillow next to you.

Making breakfast, come find me~

You reach for your phone, bleary eyed. It’s almost 8 AM. There’s a general clatter of noise in the distance. 

Pulling on the black shirt he tried to hand to you last night, you rummage through his gym bag for anything to wear on your lower half. There’s only one thing you find in there that could work, a mischievous little grin lighting up your face.

~~~

Changbin is helping make the world’s biggest batch of pancakes, helping your mom and dad set up an assembly line for your family. It’s like cooking for an army. With an apron covering his tank top and workout shorts combo, he is the picture of domesticity. He’s about to serve a few pancakes to one of your young cousins when you walk in, rubbing your eyes sleepily. Changbin’s eyes light up at your appearance, finding himself distracted.

Your hair is messy, eyes half lidded with exhaustion and a sleepy grin on your face. But more than that, it’s about what you’re wearing. One of his shirts fits over your curves perfectly, paired with his black boxer briefs, your thighs stretching the edge of them in the most tantalizing way. He leaves the kitchen area, abandoning the pancakes despite the protests from your baby cousin, and gathers you up in his arms. He presses a few gentle pecks on your cheek as you giggle.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmurs as he holds you close. He whispers into your ear, “If I knew you were going to dress like that, I’d definitely give you sleepy head.”

You burst into laughter, color rising to your cheeks. A joke that bad shouldn’t turn you on, but you feel a dull throb between your legs at the thought of morning sex with Changbin.

“What?” your cousin shouts. “What’s so funny?”

You both share a knowing look as giggles bubble up between the two of you.

You hear the snow plow working its way up and down the road while you eat breakfast. As your meal winds down, your family starts to disperse, hugging and saying their goodbyes. This has been one of the easiest holidays you’ve ever had. Warmth spreads through you as you think about how Changbin made it so much better. After you’ve packed up what little you brought, you turn to your parents.

“Text us when you get home!” your mom says.

“Of course,” you reply. “Thanks for having us.”

“Yeah, thanks for the delicious food and letting us stay over!” Changbin adds.

“Anything for you, Changbin!” 

“And I bet you’ll be having a happy New Year,” your dad says, winking at Changbin. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen, giving an awkward laugh. “Yeah, of course! Love the countdown and fireworks.”

Your eyes narrow, looking between your dad and Changbin. They’re both acting suspicious. You open your mouth to ask what that was all about, but your mom pulls you both into a bear hug, cutting off your opportunity.

~~~

That was a close one. Your dad tried to give away the massive surprise Changbin has been cooking up for months now. Before breakfast today, he had pulled your parents aside to ask for their blessing to propose to you. Your mom pulled him into a hug as your dad had clapped him on the shoulder, of course they were going to give their blessing.

  There’s a reason he doesn’t bring the ring with him, or else he’d be dropping down to one knee any time you did something that made his heart expand in his chest. 

You smile and your nose crinkles? He’s thinking about getting down on one knee. You make him feel loved and needed? He’s biting his lip so he doesn’t pop the question. You tease him in front of your family with your gorgeous thigh high stockings? He’s thinking about booking a plane ticket to Las Vegas for an Elvis impersonator wedding. 

Your New Year’s Eve is going to be way different than any others you’ve ever had. 

Because Changbin is going to ask you to marry him. 

You’ve got him however you want him. 

He’s got you.

[astralnymphh]

Um so wolves go into heat around winter an it got me thinking. Werewolf!ellie in heat absolutely RAILING reader

Im talking absolutely DESTROYING reader

She turn up at the door like "scissor tongitj?? Scissor tonight queen??? ✂️✂️"

♱|. . a/n: i'm supposed to be writing vampire smut.. but here we are! just need to get something out even if it's shitty (i'm also just sick and dgaf about perfectly writing a blurb).. i've also been listening to juno a lot so all i can think about is BREEDING. mdni.

werewolf!ellie panting at the corner of your cracked door—dark, ripped jeans, a crucible of sweat that clumps hairs to her forehead, shine to her skin—and she rushes a near nothing from her lips before the desperation could crawl out and eat you whole. if she quietened her own heart, she could catch yours pounding. “hey babe, fuckin' missed you. c'mere.” each syllable is accompanied by gusts of her gutsy—and almost visible to the cold—breath. its scent and heat bled through quickly. it poured over, into, and under her swooping fingertips, which had the back of your head snared and pulled into her mouth, eating your response with a whine she never intended to release.

the nature of your girlfriend isn't occultic to you; she drags you into her midnight realm and makes you feel like the worshipped moon. at this point, your brain tends to forget that she's even a werewolf to begin with, and eases in the penchant way she has with you: chasing you, loving hard, owning handfuls of your flesh that she lets spill and manipulate her senses. but, in the epicenter of this brutal winter—your first one together—you least expect a shirt to be shredded from your torso in one, hungry rip, tossed like ribbons on the floor and abandoned as you licked the nectary words dripping off her tongue. “wanna have a fuckin' baby with you.. ahah—shit, can i give you one?” she stumbled in giggles, so sweetly, and fumbled so pitifully with the rest of your clothes, you had to assist before something else was torn.

yeah, she can wear you out giving you 'one' any fuckin' day.

“miss me?” ellie clings, with nails that long to be sharp, into the small of your back. deep enough to bleed. it stung with a soft whimper inside your chest, “mhh—yes, ellie.” teeth collecting the sighed words from your lower lip.

she would rub her pussy against yours until it was throbbing raw, and her hips gave out. it did most times; from the wanton, the sheer letch to let loose, to give you something special—but if you whispered into a safekeeping, it would be about how she lets her hormones get the best of her. more so when your touch is involved. when your tired fingers trace the bushed mess that leads up her stomach in a thin, waning tornado-line, wrap your hand around and soothe her pelvis with pressure—she loses it.

“can't handle it at all, huh?” you pant, smiling at the fucked-out, glistening and red look on her face. her scarred brows tighten when your sticky thighs come into contact with an audible slap. it's her juices that coat you. “poor thing.”

ellie cups her own tit and rolls deeper into her straddle, you're not even sure she heard you; too lost in that midnight realm. but, if you're being honest, you're the one that can't handle it. human endurance has you beat for miles—she has to place your limp leg on her shoulder. “f-fuck..” she trembles. soon enough, the hairs covering her cunt are shining wet with her cum, and she can only hope that it takes. “thats it.. oh my god..” she leans into her nape, voice vibrating deep and hoarse in her chest. she looked like golden heaven, with her head hanging like that. though, her stamina will be the death of you: she lifts her head and starts hovering over you for more, hot breaths that felt cold in your used state fanning over your cheek. “gonna be a goddamn mama, babe. got more in me—if ya' wanna go again, hm?”

[mx-pastelwriting]

Euphoric Entanglement

- 3K Follower Post Celebration! This fic is one of three! Thank you guys so much again for enjoying my writing! Definitely worth the long nights of tears and sleep deprivation! K LUV YOU BYE!!! NOW ENJOY THE SPAGHETTI NODDLE!!!

Viktor x GN!Reader

Summary: Nervously moving over to his place after a date making do with his small dorm bed for your first time together.

Warnings: Established Relationship, Smut, Mention of Spit

Minors do not interact!

Watching as Viktor fumbled with the key to his dorm, breath heavy, having pulled away from your lips seconds ago. Hand planted on your hip, giving him support, while you're on, look out.

Having finished your date late, you both nervously danced around the subject of going back to one of your places, both deciding on his, as you had roommates who would love to put their ears up to the door.

Growing impatient with Viktor, quickly taking over his shaky attempt, finally getting the key in before kissing his lips and dragging him in. Not bothering to look around the dorm, only to shut the door behind you, making sure the door is locked.

Feeling Viktor's hand guide you through to the bed by your hips, with one small nudge you fall onto the bed. Taking in the view of Viktor's breathless state, cheeks highlighted pink, hair messed from your hungered hands that pulled the dark locks that earned moans that hummed in the kiss.

Glancing down at his hands that still tightly gripped your hips, keeping you lined with the growing outline of his cock. Taking the lead, Viktor leans down, smashing his lips against yours again, tasting the hunger and heat they fed you while his hips rocked you.

Shaky at first, but quickly finding his rhythm as muffled moans poured out of both of you. Fingers dug into his shoulders and scalp as he pulled your hips down, needing the heated friction against his clothed cock.

Eyes closed, going only by feeling, the bed dipping next to your shoulder as Viktor's hands traveled down fingers, playing roughly with the hem of your clothing. Releasing your nails from his shoulder, helping the eager man to undo them, with a pop of a button, you slide them off. Refusing to leave your lips, he undid his, refusing to let you look at his cock as he struggles nervously trying to find his way into you.

Brows furrowing as his cock finally slides into you, awaking every nerve, slowly flooding up to your face, the heat mixed with tears that brimmed at the edges of your eyes. Releasing from his lips, digging your head back into the thick sheets, smelling of Viktor.

Tilting your head to the side with hands gripping Viktor's body as he too is overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure, forcing his recovery with shaky thrusts, feeling as if he were to crumble by going any faster.

Though slow, he carved deeply into you, flooding not only your senses by month with thin spit pooling around your tongue as if drooling at the euphoric entanglement, while thicker spit covered your teeth and lips stretching with your open mouth as you gasped loudly calling for your Viktor.

Finding a spot in the nook of your neck, lips warmly dancing along your skin, lips just as hungry as his hips as they found their supported rhythm. Moans growing a loud echo in the box-size dorm room followed along with the sound of the small bed squeezing under the harsh movement of Viktor's thrusts.

Thighs slapping against your skin as moans crawled up your throat, leaving your vocal cords raw and hoarse, almost buzzing. Suddenly feeling as Viktor's hand leaves your hip, now pulling your face down, forcing your lips to collide, spit mixing as his thrust became sloppy and unstable.

Choked gasps echoed into the rough kiss as Viktor's buckled hips pulled away, hand no longer on your face but on his cock pumping cum onto your skin. Quickly becoming exhausted, all the bliss of adrenaline now disappearing into the night, leaving you both sweaty and out of breath with an itch for more lingered.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

Taglist: @sophieissleepy

[andersonfilms]

i have so many thoughts swarming in my mind at the moment. hopefully i can collect my bearings enough to make sense, even if it is just for a moment. first and foremost, i just want to say how wonderfully articulate this piece of absolutely wonderful fiction is. honest to god, from the very start, the message of it became crystal clear from the very beginning until the end. truthfully, it's something i'm so envious of as a writer but as a reader — it was so exciting to read. in the beginning of it, you did an insightful job of showing where sevika is and where she stands. it's quite wonderful to see how you built it in the beginning. for me, it's really this subtle build up in the introduction that really sells you on where the story is heading. a vision so clear, a canvas so clean, you can almost see your reflection in it. you paint such a lovely picture. still, i'm trying to wrap my head around it. like each stroke, with a flick of the brush, the full portrait comes into view as you try to unfold the meaning of it. it could be because i have a very personal and emotional attachment to the concept of this fic but goddamn did it just reel me in.

this was the first analogy which really stood out to me the most.

the dark chocolate she’s nibbling on is cheap and tastes identical to the plastic wrapper it came in, and the burn of the whiskey is only adding to the bitter taste. but at least it soothes her mind. she sighs, flicks off the television, and heads for the shower. the last thing she wants to be right now is even more wet, but the promising warmth of the water will at least soothe some of the pain in her shoulders.

in the beginning, there's a lot of extremely well done imagery but this really stand out the most to me. whether it's intentional (which it's you ofc it is, you and your brilliant mind i'm actually so very obsessed with it) but i love how you did this one moment. it's such a small detail, maybe even easy to dismiss, but i really enjoyed the pairing of the bitterness of the chocolate versus the burn of the whiskey. with the next sequence that follows, truthfully, it's so cinematic with how it falls in line with what happens next. the world building in the first passage is just something i don't think i have had the pleasure in reading in quite some time. personally, i've been on a book tear and this sliver of imagery is well and intentionally placed, it truly makes me feel inspired, more than these so called novels i've been reading. if anything, i'm just convinced i need an ennabear novel in my hands yesterday. the way you introduce and pace your storylines is truly remarkable. it always leave an everlasting impression on me. even changes the way i would normally think to write something and paints it in a new perspective. dear god, i think this reblog is going to be so astronomically long. hopefully, i'll be able to round out what i'm trying to say by the end of it. #raycore.

“it’s okay,” she coos. “would you like a lollipop?” the kid sniffles at this, but lifts her head up and nods at her. sevika digs into the small bag on her waist, pulling out a bright blue sucker for the little one that matches her hair. she takes it in her small hands and unwraps it, eyes sparkling at the sight of the blue raspberry favored sugar. sevika just hopes her parents don’t kill her. with the kid in her arms— who is now joyfully sucking on the lollipop instead of soaking her in tears and snot— she makes her way downstairs. sevika’s no stranger to lost children, and she’s fond of their company. it’s refreshing to hear them describe colors and patterns in the paintings instead of overanalyzing it and telling stupid facts about the artist. and she loves that she can finally give back to the world, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents.

this entire exchange just had me in a mountain of tears for several reasons. for one, act two of arcane, a reunion that winded me. even in this alternate universe, just one fated meeting, i am floored back into the ruins of act two. another thing i want to point out is how sevika's personality really shines through on the dialogue. she's very decisive when she chooses to speak, low-grunts, soft aggression, and sarcastic remarks laced with a tone of concern, and then when she finally drops everything and it's just her kind, beating heart. definition of could kill you but actually a teddy bear. from the get go, you encapsulate all of it so perfectly. this version of sevika is someone who has been burned but you still this softness to her. an act of kindness to someone who embodies the innocence that only adolescence comes with. but as a pure angst lover the last line stuck out to me the most, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents. it's a very subtle, but meaningful drop and if you blink, you nearly miss it. it's the small little details i fear i gravitate to so much but fuck is it wonderful.

“that she is!” the mother cheers. “god bless you, sevika, seriously. i’ll never be able to repay you.” she smiles proudly, not necessarily because she believes in a god, but she’s just glad to get the kid back and hopefully end the conversation soon. “thank you ma’am. it’s no problem, really. it’s my job.”

enna, you’re a fucking genius.

this is just. fucking hell let me collect my thoughts for a moment. alright. honest to god, no pun intended, the way you slithered the concept of religion in is the smoothest i’ve ever seen. it nearly melts into the pages, ink dispersing on the fine lines. each line melting into the other like butter on a pan. again, i’m such a whore for the details and this is such a huge one. this is fucking art. there’s really no other way to describe it. everything seems so well thought out, executed to perfection. i like that we get to know how she feels without her really even voicing it and from that point and moving forward, it sets the tone. again. world building and storytelling — it really is remarkable in the way you’ve managed to weave this web of craft that’s so honed in on.

as they approach the bottom of the stairs, she makes the tough decision to peek over the stretcher, eyes frantically searching around the spot she was only just standing in. and there she is. that little girl with her bright blue hair, now drenched in red. her lips are still blue from the lollipop, but she’s grown pale and cold. and gone. and sevika couldn’t protect her. before she closes her eyes, she takes in the scene one more time. piles of hair tangled together and skin melted into the floor. she’s seen some pretty outrageous things as a security guard, but never this. tears pour out of her eyes, the pain in her body making her wish she would’ve been taken out too. by what, she doesn’t know. she isn’t aware of where she is or what’s going on, all she knows is the pain in the left side of her body, and it’s all she’ll feel for the rest of her life.

the way you described this scene. please, just rip my heart out and put it through the shredder. it would be far less painful. you are so insane for this. and the tie in to the lollipop into dead, cold blue lips, AS IN A CORPSE. too fucking MUCH. my fucking goodness chat, it’s just too amazing i can’t really even be mad about it honestly. i wasn’t expected my heart to be be stomped on like this. poor baby isha. catching everything but a future. I CANT DO THIS. ITS TOO MUCH. but alas i will and i already have fully read this fic but goddamn. gotta respect the game, the angst is too cold, literally. also, i want to note the raw emotion sevika is exhibiting. truly, the way your write sevika is truly refreshing. i keep making canvas metaphors but it feels like you're painting her and as the depth of the story grows so does she, slowly coming out of the canvas until she comes to life. she becomes something really and tangible and it's through the emotinal lense you've chosen to write her in and it really is such a brilliant choice. your writing is shining so bright with this one. truly, i really admire it.

“sevika, don’t worry.” you assure her. “i’ll help you believe.” and the line goes quiet.

honorable mention, i just really enjoy the foreshadowing in this. i also think it's a really good representation of overzealous evangelicials even and how they recruit and almost the kind of desperation that goes with corruput intentions within religion. not that i directly has anything to do with this line, but it took my mind there. maybe it was just my trauma fucking kicking in and i'm getting flashbacks but the weight in this line is fucking destroying me personally.

no matter what you do, you can’t get this woman off of your mind. something about her makes you feel different than how other people make you feel, but you can’t tell what it is or why. you need a plan. you need to talk to her again. or at least some confidence would be handy. but instead of dwelling on it, you decide to go for a walk. the walk doesn’t really work though, it actually does the opposite of clearing your mind. you have nothing to focus on, no work to do, so you just think. your mind runs wild the whole time. you’re so intrigued, so excited yet nervous, you feel like it’s almost a craving. almost, because you’re not really sure what a craving is. not until you meet her, at least.

the gay awakenineneneningggggggg. it's fucking brewing! i don't know if i can even remember mine but this reallt reminds of just having a crush on a girl for the first time, it feel entirely different than anything has ever felt. as someone who figured it out later in life, THIS HITS FUCKING HARD. it's like your entire world is changing. your entire life you have looked through life in one lense but then someone comes along distorts your view. you really encapsulates that feeling, that expierence really well in the plants of doubt in this. truly, it's so beautiful.

huh. sevika at a liquor shop. not necessarily unusual for a person, but forbidden for you. you wonder if this is a ritual for her, if she’s gonna go home and get drunk or something, or maybe if she’s gonna split the bottle with some friends. does she even have friends? you turn around and head in the same direction she does, hoping your paths cross before her quick, long strides can leave you behind. and you eventually catch up to her, pretending you had no idea you’d run into her, you greet her with a “oh, sevika! hey, i didn’t expect to see you here.” except, you did expect to see her here. you already spied her storming out of the liquor store. ugh, you’re such a bad liar. “oh… hi.” she mumbles, a little disturbed by your sudden appearance, and already burnt out from the two people who’ve made small talk with her in the past hour. while you stand in front of her, she raises her eyebrow slightly as if to signal that she’s waiting for you to say something before she walks away.

the chasing!!!! the yearning!!!!! having a crush on a beautiful women and chasing her!!!!! yep, that's the fucking stuff. but also it shows the depravity and loneliness sevika is feeling and ptsd she’s feeling from the events. how her brain is processing the trauma she’s been through. i love that reader just sought sevika out, the pure curiosity hovering inside their head. god, this oc is really just perfect in the way you’ve crafted them.

when she told you, she couldn’t help but break down in heavy sobs. you could feel your heart shatter at this— the story and sevika’s reaction to it. you scrambled from your side of the booth to hers, scooting in next to her and wrapping her up in a hug as she cried. to your surprise, she hugged you back. she hooked her chin over your shoulder, grabbed you tightly in her strong arms, and just let herself go.

oh, this is everything. the raw emotion, the vulnerability, the trust — it’s so genuine it nearly has me crying. the first time you open up to someone, it’s a level of intimacy that can’t quite be matched. once the boundary is crossed, there really isn’t an option to come back from that. it’s a soft comfort, one that feels like a warm blanket you’ve been yearning for all your life. fuck, i love this so bad.

today you’re feeling particularly bold for some reason, you suspect it might be because of your friendship with sevika, but this feels different. well, you know how it feels, but you’re scared to admit it. although you’ll probably be fine, you’re hesitant to say it to yourself out of the fear that you’ll be thrown out of the church. yes, you like sevika, and sure, she is a beautiful woman. but you just can’t bring yourself to say it. to say that you have a real crush on her. to admit that you want her. so instead of saying anything, you use your actions instead. glancing over both of your shoulders, you make sure that nobody important is looking in your direction before you snake your hand forward and wrap your hand around sevika’s. this action is the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone, and your cheeks are practically on fire with how hard you’re blushing. you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building could hear your heartbeat right now. sevika adjusts her fingers so that she’s gripping your hand firmly, and you feel so… dirty, almost. you know that this is nothing, but you’re scared and ashamed of what other people might think. but although it initially feels wrong, you settle down when you realize that nobody’s looking— even more that nobody cares— and it feels so right. her hands are surprisingly warm and soft, they feel so welcoming and familiar against yours.

this section is literally making me so insane !!!!! in the best way possible. just another great example of how you’ve been able to really capture what it means to be a disciple of the faith but to feel wrong but it doesn’t. it was never wrong, it was always right. even if the church or your faith has told you to burn for it. anyone with religious trauma has felt this way and fuck, you literally just took my feelings out of my head and put them on paper. there’s nothing more remarkable than your ability make every emotion accessible in such a beautiful form. one that feels very real. i truly love it so much.

you looked up at her from your position on your knees, her torso looking impossibly longer than usual. something comes over you, something that warms up your stomach until you feel so dizzy you feel the need to reach for something to steady yourself. unaware of just how much trouble this would get you in, you end up grabbing for her upper thighs. they’re so thick that your hands are almost completely flat, but they’re sturdy. perfect for grabbing onto.

OKAYDJEDJEIFJCECFMJEUIF THIS FUCKING PART. THIS SHIT. THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE. ON YOUR KNEES LIKE SEVIKA IS YOUR ALTER. THIS IS TOO MUCH. TEWWWW MUCH. okay, let me calm down, just a little. but really. really, really, really — this itched my brain in such a lovely way. i will not be able to get over it ever. i'm pretty sure. the imagery, AGAIN. everything is so entirely connected. the flow of this fic is just insane. i'm seriously in awe. i've read this fic four times already. dw, it will be up to ten by the end of the week. #trust.

sevika studies your words in her mind, hoping that you’d still mean them if you could see the thoughts running wild in her mind right now. she inches closer to you and her nose almost brushes yours. the tension in the room makes her squirm, thighs pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them. somehow, in some strange way, this feels better than sex. better than anything she’s ever smoked, any liquid she could get drunk on. you are her intoxicant. her stronger substance. her higher power. her breath of fresh air in this humid town. you are what she’s been searching for.

her higher power.

this line just fucking crushed me into pieces. i don't think you understand!!!!!! it's crossing the line of my religion vs her. discipleship vs love. it's a choice that no one should ever have to make. love is love. there's not a high power that should hold over the feelings we can't explain, it's just something we feel. something we can never be rid of. something we can't live without. i also love the parallel of reader being the greater vice than sevika's addiciton. you're more than the vices she's using to cope. you are more than just someone for her to get lost in. it's soft and gentle, and mesmirizing. it's inexplainable. it's love. it's truly such a beautiful perspective because it also undoes the idea, by the bigots, that we can choose who we love because we can't. it's not up to choice, reason, and it certainly doesn't offer us grace. love is ruthless, merciless, and often cruel but it can also be the best thing that's happened to us. okay i'm ranting so fucking bad but that line really shook me and i'm going to be thinking about it for the next five business years.

she shuffles under you as she slides her boxers off, and you almost drool at the sight of her bush. it’s just so… beautiful. and intimate. she pats your hips as a signal to scoot off of her, and she spreads her legs before manhandling you to sit your cunt on top of hers. as soon as you connect your cunt with hers, you swear you black out. it all feels so good. she keeps spreading her legs wider to help you get a better angle against her clit, and you can feel it throbbing against yours. you thought holding her hand was intimate, but this is so much more than you could’ve imagined. “fuck, sevika.” you moan, tears crashing over you again and dripping onto her cheeks now. “you’re so beautiful.”

okay. okay. okay. i’m going in sane with love for this. so fucking bad. it’s not even a joke anymore. loving and intimate sensual smut is always gonna fucking do it for me. literally. the beauty of being with a woman for the first time. not being able to control yourself on the uncontrollable wave. it will drown you if you’re not careful and it’s almost tragic. it’s haunting. it’s unexplainable. it’s love. leaving one belief to let yourself drown in what you’ve been told is a sin. it’s the foundation of finding faith in something tangible, something that offers and doesn’t take. god, this is really so fucking good. really perfect from top to bottom. the heartbeat of this story is so strong and i loved every moment of it. you never disappoint. banger, after banger, after banger.

this is truly one of the most introspective fics doing religious trauma and the fight between sexuality and faith so beautifully and respectfully. in the sly details, it really shows the inner battle between the consumption of addiction and how it can derail our lives, how through addiction we can never get through it alone, and also the guilt that comes with picking who we are over who we've been told to be. all of this is truly such a stunner and i don't think i 've read a piece of fiction laced with so much meaning in a while. it's so entirely refreshing. it has really reworked my brain in a way i haven't been able to explain. this is the second night i've been ranting in this outrageously long reblog, my goodness, can't writing anything short to save my life, but this deserved every ounce of love. truly exceptional, enna.

✞︎ ︎YOUR OWN PERSONAL JESUS.

SOMEONE TO HEAR YOUR PRAYERS. SOMEONE WHO CARES.

cw: religious!reader x sevika, inspo from personal jesus by depeche mode, dark themes [drinking addiction, religious crisis, trauma/ptsd, etc.], a mention of isha because i’m evil, as well as religious themes, nasty sloppy dirty sinful dyke sex [body worship + tribbing] 18+ 🧛🏿

word count: 14.1k

i. FEELING UNKNOWN AND YOU’RE ALL ALONE

sad, dull, gray, gloomy, what else could she use to describe it? constant rain, a chronic form of seasonal depression that lingered in the air no matter where she went. her therapist prescribed her some fresh air, but the air is never fresh here. it’s thick with fog, the humidity weighs down on your shoulders and makes it unbearable to trudge through. sure, the sun shines, but it never peeks out from behind the clouds, leaving the town in a dark, unsaturated gleam.

she crosses the threshold into her apartment, hair clinging to the back of her neck and the sides of her face due to a mix of humidity and sweat. her apartment might be more vapid than the outside world, it’s a small box that overlooks the parking lot and a few 24 hour diners across the street. the walls are all white, along with the ceiling and cabinets, and the carpet is scratchy and gray. she hardly has any furniture, a small couch with a tv propped up on a cardboard box facing it. no coffee table, chairs, or shelves, but she doesn’t spend much time out here anyways.

her ribs start to ache, and the growing hunger in her stomach only makes it worse. she scours her cupboards for a snack, and settles for half a bar of dark chocolate and a glass of whiskey. the couch is small and hard and it barely offers any comfort to her tired body. on the tv, the meteorologist blabbers away about the predicted weather for the week. she feels bad for him, the poor guy probably wanted a bigger and better job than this. foreseeing the same weather for 365 days straight. cold, cloudy, wet, maybe snow if we get lucky.

the dark chocolate she’s nibbling on is cheap and tastes identical to the plastic wrapper it came in, and the burn of the whiskey is only adding to the bitter taste. but at least it soothes her mind. she sighs, flicks off the television, and heads for the shower. the last thing she wants to be right now is even more wet, but the promising warmth of the water will at least soothe some of the pain in her shoulders.

a bone-chilling squeak rings out through the bathroom as she twists the faucet on, and the light flickers as if in response to the noise. sevika peels her clothes off, her sweatpants dropping to the floor and her shirt still trying to hang on to her body. her ribs are more prominent than they’ve ever been, and she can see her muscles slowly starting to wither away with how frequently she skips the gym.

steam fills the room, the foggy clouds of it wisp around her as she studies herself until she can’t see her reflection anymore. it’s all blurry— her reflection, the walls, her own hands in front of her face. her left arm has the deepest and darkest scars she’s ever seen, most of them are jagged from the way her stitches were inserted. she can hardly stand to look at herself anymore, so maybe it’s a good thing the mirror is fogged up.

in the shower she only washes herself for a quick second, rubbing a thin layer of soap all over her body and scrubbing her scalp with shampoo. she debates on adding conditioner, but she feels as if she’ll faint if she’s in the shower for another second. the hot water quickly runs out, and sevika only notices how scorching her water was when it switches over to room temperature.

as soon as she steps out of the shower, she wraps herself up in her towel, although there’s not really a point in that due to the holes and strings coming off of it. she makes a mental note to buy more towels, and just as she’s about to mope about another purchase to make, her phone blares an alarm warning her not to be late to her physical therapy appointment.

stumbling out of the bathroom, she trudges half nude to her liquor cabinet, aimlessly grabbing around for something strong. she pours herself a shot, and then another, and fuck, why not a third one? she doesn’t notice the burn as it goes down, her mind instead focusing on the ache in her left shoulder.

she pulls a shirt over her head and shoves her shoes on, finalizing her outfit with her black raincoat. she wears it nearly every day, partially because it’s always cold and rainy, and partially because it’s a good excuse to hide the thick scars that travel all the way up her body. her spine starts to ache as she walks to the clinic, but she doesn’t have money for a car, and she doesn’t know anybody in this town well enough to ask them for a ride.

the receptionist at the clinic doesn’t look up one single time as sevika checks in, and sevika wishes so badly that she could get paid to sit down and look at a computer all day. she takes a seat in the waiting room, slumping back and relaxing her muscles as she waits for her PT to invite her in. the clock on the wall ticks extremely loudly, she notices, but she decides to close her eyes and count the ticks until it’s finally her turn.

ii. FLESH AND BONE BY THE TELEPHONE

static muffles through her radio. she flicks the ashes of her cigarette out onto the pavement, watching as a pigeon across the street skitters around. another few crackles through her walkie talkie go ignored. it’s her break for fucks sake, and she’s only just starting to enjoy it.

“sevika?” her radio booms. she sighs, rolling her eyes and waiting for someone else to respond.

“sevika, we need you inside. your break is over.”

“my break is what? over.” she responds, giggling at her own smartass response.

“your break is over, god damn it. over.”

“roger.” she says, a hint of a smile still in her voice. “i’ll be inside in a second. over.”

she pulls her phone out of her pocket, double checking the new code for the security door. after punching it in, she swings the door open until it bolts shut behind her, and then makes her way to the lobby. the museum is huge, the lobby has floors that sparkle and shine no matter how many muddy shoes cross over them, and the rest of the stories are complete with floor to ceiling windows that are taller than she ever could’ve imagined.

as she crosses through a giant stone archway, her boss nods and waves her over. one of her coworkers is there too, both of them looking stern and serious. she steps into the small circle they’ve formed, lifting her eyebrows quizzically at the two of them. “well?” she asks. “what do you need?”

“what do i need? what i fuckin’ need from both of you is for you to do your fuckin’ jobs.” he spits, literally. droplets of his saliva collect in his beard as he digs into sevika and her coworker about ‘not doing their jobs.’

“what do you mean by that, sir?” her coworker asks.

“do you know how many people i’ve seen walk out of here with souvenirs stuffed into their pockets? that gift shop is gonna be desecrated by the end of the day.”

“respectfully, sir, we aren’t in charge of the gift shop. we only monitor the grounds of the museum, and you’re the one who hired us both to do that.” she says back.

“then go do ya fuckin’ job.” he growls, his thick boston accent shining through his attempt at a serious lecture.

she raises her eyebrows and turns around with her tongue in her cheek, heading up the large marble stairs. sevika can’t argue with that, and she loves her job. it’s easy— all she has to do is puff her chest to intimidate her guests, hand out lollipops to the little ones who are brave enough to wave at her, and occasionally answer a question about directions around the place. all of her coworkers love her, and she’s never felt more secure in her life before.

ascending the stairs, she eyes a beautiful young woman with blazing orange hair wandering into the gift shop and a smile on her face. that’s not the type of person who’d steal, she thinks, and she’s probably right. concealing her eyes are a pair of black sunglasses, and she’s finally thankful they’re part of her uniform now that she’s got direct sunlight hitting every corner of the second floor.

she inserts her earpiece into the side of her head, prepared although not excited to listen to her coworkers chat and complain for the rest of the day. she flicks around until she connects to the private channel, and then continues to stroll around the second floor.

people of all ages wander through the halls. kids being scolded by their parents, awkward adults grasping clammy hands on their first date, seniors leaning on their walkers and canes as they reminisce about famous painters. the community is so beautiful, so important to her, she’d do anything to protect it. this place is like her second home, and she’s made some of the best friends of her life here. not to mention the fact that it’s taken her years to memorize her way around the place, so now it’s even more special to her.

she steps toward the large windows, feeling the warm sun prickle her skin as it sparkles through the leaves of the trees. the muffled sound of laughing families combined with the sight of her people paints a smile on her face, and she closes her eyes and loses herself in this divine moment until she feels something tug on the bottom of her vest.

“yes?” she asks, turning around and smiling down at the kid. her bottom lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears, she makes a mental note that she can’t be any older than six years of age.

“i—” she starts, attempting to blink back tears and inevitably failing. “mmmph!!”

sevika crouches down and wipes the girl’s tears away with her thumbs, ruffling the kid’s fluffy blue hair. “don’t worry, kiddo.” she assures her, “what’s wrong? oh, lemme guess— lost your parents?” the kid nods and sobs some more, attempting to hide her face in her hands.

she scoops her up in her arms, letting her sob into her shoulder. “ughffff!!!!” she pouts, squirming in sevika’s hold. she takes a guess that the kid is either really shy or just mute.

“it’s okay,” she coos. “would you like a lollipop?” the kid sniffles at this, but lifts her head up and nods at her. sevika digs into the small bag on her waist, pulling out a bright blue sucker for the little one that matches her hair. she takes it in her small hands and unwraps it, eyes sparkling at the sight of the blue raspberry favored sugar. sevika just hopes her parents don’t kill her.

with the kid in her arms— who is now joyfully sucking on the lollipop instead of soaking her in tears and snot— she makes her way downstairs. sevika’s no stranger to lost children, and she’s fond of their company. it’s refreshing to hear them describe colors and patterns in the paintings instead of overanalyzing it and telling stupid facts about the artist. and she loves that she can finally give back to the world, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents.

“radio check.” her earpiece says, slightly catching her off guard.

“go ahead.” her teammates all say, mutually praying their boss isn’t about to go on another two hour long rant in their private channel.

“keep your eyes peeled for a little kid with a full head of bright blue hair,” her boss says into her earpiece. “apparently her names isha and she’s five. parents lost her on the second floor and they’re worried.”

sevika looks down at the kid, unnecessarily double checking that her head is painted with blue hair dye. “i’ve got her.�� she says. “we’re making our way to the lobby. 10-20?”

“lobby, meet you there soon. over and out.”

“isha!!” her mother shrieks as soon as sevika lands on the bottom step. “oh my sweet ishabear! i thought we’d lost you forever.”

isha’s dad shoots sevika a look that seems to say ‘sorry about her’, but she smiles and hands the kid over. “what’s your name?” her mom asks frantically. just as she’s about to respond, her boss speaks up and whacks her on the back with a proud slap.

“this is sevika. best security in the whole building, ain’t she?” he says, reaching out to pinch her cheek. sevika tries her absolute best to hold back, but she can’t stop a harsh glare from forming on her face as her boss pokes and prods at her like she’s a doll. she clears her throat and shoves him off, but resumes a smile for the parents staring at her.

“that she is!” the mother cheers. “god bless you, sevika, seriously. i’ll never be able to repay you.”

she smiles proudly, not necessarily because she believes in a god, but she’s just glad to get the kid back and hopefully end the conversation soon. “thank you ma’am. it’s no problem, really. it’s my job.”

“it is your job!” her boss exclaims. “and she’s gonna get right back to it.”

before turning away, she gives isha a smile and an explosive fist bump, smiling at the adorable little cub and then parting. her boss is probably the only downside of her job. words can’t explain how much she hates that guy— even hate isn’t a strong enough word. but she ignores it, pushing her hatred to the back of her mind and attempting to continue with her good day.

until an ear piercing scream is let out at the front of the building, and she’s knocked out before she can turn around to investigate.

——

“shit, how many are still in the building?”

“i dunno, man! there are people fuckin’ everywhere.”

“sevika? can you hear me? … sevika, you need to get out of there now.”

groggily, she peels her heavy eyes open and looks around. the scent of pennies fills her nose, a metallic smell so strong it nearly knocks her out again. before she feels like she can hit the floor, her body jerks forward and she sucks in a gasp before she realizes she’s already laying on the marbled ground.

“sevika…?”

“leave it alone, for gods sake, we need to get people out of here!”

her left arm was laying oddly and uncomfortably behind her, and her whole body was absolutely aching. she leans forward and chokes out some blood before looking at the scene before her. windows shattered and glass glistening on the floor, reflecting the light that shines off of the mini fires lit all around. there are people everywhere— or at least the remains of them. shoes and purses and walkers left behind, the suffocating scent of blood and charred flesh, and the sound of sirens blaring all around her.

she tries to breathe, but it seems impossible. her lungs won’t fill with air no matter how many times she gasps, and that number is burgeoning with the way she’s hyperventilating. hot, salty tears prickle her eyes involuntarily, but she blinks them away, too shocked to feel any emotions yet. she groans into the floor as a sharp pain shoots through her body, and the thrashing caused by that pain only makes her feel worse.

deep red and sticky, her blood pools around her. it leaks out of her left arm, which takes her a while to recognize as hers because of the way her elbow is inverted. she recognizes cries of children and shrieks of pain, which is a harsh contrast of the peaceful atmosphere earlier. how much earlier? how long has she been knocked out? and why is she on the floor?

after an eternity, two men in heavy jackets lift her onto a stretcher. she’s facing up this time, and now she can get a good look at the walls around her. they’re crumbling and splattered with blood, world famous paintings that were once hanging from them are now completely destroyed. either torn up or burnt to a crisp.

as they approach the bottom of the stairs, she makes the tough decision to peek over the stretcher, eyes frantically searching around the spot she was only just standing in. and there she is. that little girl with her bright blue hair, now drenched in red. her lips are still blue from the lollipop, but she’s grown pale and cold. and gone. and sevika couldn’t protect her.

before she closes her eyes, she takes in the scene one more time. piles of hair tangled together and skin melted into the floor. she’s seen some pretty outrageous things as a security guard, but never this. tears pour out of her eyes, the pain in her body making her wish she would’ve been taken out too. by what, she doesn’t know. she isn’t aware of where she is or what’s going on, all she knows is the pain in the left side of her body, and it’s all she’ll feel for the rest of her life.

iii. LIFT UP THE RECEIVER, I’LL MAKE YOU A BELIEVER

“sevika…?”

she blinks awake with a gasp, eyes wide as she takes in her surroundings. children’s toys litter the floor, flyers and posters on the wall, bright white lights beaming down on her— and her physical therapist standing about 2 feet away from her. sevika grumbles in embarrassment, trying to shake off her sleepiness as quickly as possible.

her therapist offers a sympathetic smile before waving her back. sevika curses those waiting room chairs for being so comfortable, or maybe it’s just because she doesn’t get much shut eye at home. her back is so weak and achy that she feels as if she’ll snap under the weight of gravity, but she tries to play it cool in front of her poor doctor. she’s already embarrassed herself enough today, she won’t let herself collapse in pain on the floor of the office.

“nice to see you again, sevika.” her PT smiles, “how’ve you been?”

how has she been? what a long list she could go down. first of all, she’s in so much physical pain she can barely sit upright without passing out. next, she hasn’t been sleeping well due to her night terrors, and she’s waken up soaked in sweat and shivering more often than not. finally, if this list has to end anywhere, she feels jealous. of the happy families she sees every day, of the kids with friends, of the adults with well paying jobs.

“i’ve been… surviving.” she says, purposefully ignoring the plethora of problems she has. this is physical therapy, she reminds herself. not the damn loony bin. get ahold of yourself.

“well, surviving is a great start.” her therapist says with a faux smile. “how has the pain in your shoulders felt since i last saw you? better? worse?” and with that, her voice trails off into the distance with sevika zoning out.

her poor arm gets bent in every single direction you can think of, even ones it’s not supposed to. she bites back her screams of agony and replaces them with little pained growls and whimpers. every time her arm gets bent slightly behind her, a shock of pure pain shoots through her spine and leaves her a shivering mess. the pain within her feels electric, like she’s about to burst into flames or something. it’s the worst thing she’s ever felt.

the tears in her eyes threaten to spill more than ever, but by some miracle she manages to hold them back. until she gets back to her apartment, at least.

as soon as she steps through the front door, she makes a beeline for her bedroom. burying her face in her pillow, she lets it all out. her pained scream is barely muffled by the pillow, but she continues to scream until her throat feels like sandpaper and she realizes that she can’t breathe.

gasping for air, she flops over. her vision is spotted and blurry from a mix of tears, pain, and exhaustion. she stares at her ceiling and cries while she chokes on her own staggered breaths, and she barely registers that someone’s knocking on her door until she hears her name called through it.

“sevika? are you alright, hon?” is followed by another few pounds on her door. she doesn’t want her anyone to call the cops, so she slowly and reluctantly rises from bed, grabbing onto her door frame to steady herself.

it’s her neighbor. curse these walls for being too thin.

sevika groans and rolls her eyes before opening the door, trying her best to plant an indifferent look on her face although it looks more like a pout. the old woman smiles up at her, glad to see that she’s alive after that screaming, but sevika can’t return the smile.

“what’s wrong? did something happen?” her neighbor asks.

“nothing’s wrong.” sevika grumbles, lying through her teeth.

“i know that’s not true honeybun, your eyes are bright red and your cheeks are wet with tears.” her neighbor coos. sevika thinks it’s annoying. she doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy.

“i’m alright, thank you.” she says sternly, although her neighbor keeps pushing.

“may i come in?”

sevika doesn’t answer, instead watching as the old lady walks past her and plants herself on sevika’s couch. “come chat with me.” she invites with a warm, grandmotherly smile.

“i’m not in the mood for chatting.” sevika glares.

“oh, dear,” her neighbor chuckles to herself. “i’m afraid i’m too mature to have you groan at me like a teenager. come sit.”

sevika comes up with another response, but it’s not a very friendly one. the angel on her shoulder tells her not to say it, that the poor woman is just trying to help, that sevika’s already been so much of a bother that she should just shut her mouth. but the devil on her shoulder is fed up right now, and sevika always favors the devil.

“i’m afraid you’re not an ounce as mature as i am. you haven’t been through what i have, and you have no place to tell me what to do in my own fucking apartment.” but sevika does listen to the lady, because she takes a seat right next to her on the couch.

her neighbor ignores her emotional outburst and instead asks “are you hungry?”

“no.” sevika scowls.

“tired?”

“exhausted.”

“sad? lonely? you’d do good with a pet around here. or a few plants. i can grow you a—”

“no thanks. i don’t need a… plant. or an animal.” sevika spits.

“hmm. you live a sad life, don’t you. i wonder what you were like before you came here.” her neighbor sighed.

“i don’t owe you an explanation. that’s private.”

“sevika, you can talk to me if you need to. i’m only one door down the hall, retired, it’s just me and my cats. i’ll always be available if you need something.”

“i don’t need anything.” sevika rolls her eyes. “much less your pity.”

“okay, fine then. if you won’t let me help you, i’ll make someone else help you.”

she reaches into her pocket and digs through her wallet, pulling out a thin paper card and handing it over to sevika. “come with me tomorrow. it’d do you wonders.”

“to… church? no thanks, i’ll pa—”

“okay, great. i’ll see you tomorrow morning then.” her neighbor says, rising and making her way to the door.

“i didn’t say i’d come.”

“i’ll pick you up at eight. better set an alarm.”

“i didn’t agree to co—” and sevika gets cut off by the slam of her own door before she can finish her sentence. whatever, when tomorrow rolls around she’ll just ignore her neighbor, pretending to be asleep or something.

she leans back on her couch, staring at the ceiling and wishing she had a pillow to grip onto, to scream into. another thing to add to the list. she stares at the ceiling instead, balling her hands up into fists as rage turns into sadness and sadness turns back into exhaustion.

it takes everything in her not to crawl to bed, but she stands and walks herself eventually. her shoulders sag and her torso slumps forward as she takes one step at a time, her posture making her about 4 inches shorter than she really is. her bed cradles her weight though, and she sighs into her cold, wet pillow once the tension in her body is released. it’s the best feeling ever. and before she knows it, her eyes are shutting, mind going back to that deep, dark memory.

——

7:30am rolls around, and sevika curses herself for waking up this early. now she’ll have to pretend to be asleep in front of her neighbor, and she’s not a good actress. she rolls out of bed, dragging herself to the bathroom to get her day started. she tries to avoid the mirror, but it’s impossible.

she stares at herself for a while, the uncomfortable feeling of someone else looking back at her creeps up on her. she doesn’t look like herself, she doesn’t look like sevika. she looks sick, tired, hurt, starving. the thought of food makes her stomach twist, she hasn’t eaten anything real in over a full day. maybe she should go easy on her neighbor and ask for a home-cooked meal. maybe.

her hair is fluffy and frayed at the ends, and her roots feel eternally greasy. her depression is so bad, she either showers daily in an attempt to scrub the hallucinated blood off, or she won’t shower for weeks. it’s like she can never win the battle.

a knock at the door disrupts her thoughts. “sevika?”

a groan involuntarily escapes her as she silently opens the bathroom door and creeps out into the living room. “sevika, wake up, it’s almost eight.”

she freezes, praying that her movements on top of her creaky floorboards go unobserved.

“sevika, dear, i can hear you on the other side of the door. you’re not fooling anyone.”

fuck. she’s not getting out of this, is she.

with another groan, she opens the door and sighs. the old lady smiles up at her, dressed in some sort of church attire. “grab a coat,” she says. “it’s chilly out.”

what else does sevika have to do, other than follow the orders? she’s trapped now. following this sweet old woman to church on a sunday. something she never thought she’d do. but she yanks a jacket over her shoulders and shoves her shoes on, not bothering to lock the door behind her. she claims she has nothing to lose in there, but that’s just because she lost her own apartment key a while ago.

she almost smiles when her neighbor shoves her into her car. almost. but she’s not exactly capable of that anymore. it’s so luxurious. she has a heater and a radio and a seat. it’s almost like she’s in a spaceship, marveling at all of these features that would make her life so much easier.

her excitement reaches it’s end as they pull into the parking lot of the building, and that pit in her stomach returns as she climbs out of the small car. if her legs worked a fraction of how well they used to, she’d run so far away from this place.

everything about it is repelling her. the building is huge, bright, colorful, everything she’s seen in her recurring nightmares. it smells like dust and coffee, children’s art line the walls, along with some more formal paintings and portraits. the ceiling seems to be made of glass— the kind that shatters easily and can slice your hands up.

the windows are colored with stained glass that portray different scenes. people made of bright colors dance and pose and feast all around them, their dazzling figures being illuminated by the white sunlight shining through the windows. it’s the kind of beauty she was attracted to years ago, the kind that nearly got her killed.

“sevika, come sit with me.” her neighbor says, derailing her train of thought. she practically has to drag sevika over to the pews as she stares at the buildings interior, feelings of fear and comfort flooding through her veins and stunning her.

she’s too busy taking in her surroundings to realize that the service has started, and she’s quickly reminded of how much she hates places like this. a large, beautiful room full of people. a community. something bad could happen at any moment, and she’d be in no shape to help any of them.

small droplets of blood fill her mouth one at a time as she anxiously chews on her bottom lip. she knows it’s a bad habit, but it’s oddly comforting. the metallic taste is just a reminder that she’s still alive, that the blood is still inside of her body instead of splattered across the floor. gross, ugh, don’t think of that.

in an attempt to tune out the preacher’s sermon, she decides to study the people around her. it’s a harsh reminder of past events, she swears she can almost recognize the faces of the dead bodies in them. all ages, young and old. parents cradling their newborn babies, seniors admiring their lover’s white hair, kids swinging their feet out in front of them in an attempt to stay occupied.

she tries to push these morbid thoughts away from her brain, but it’s not easy. it’s her minds default, it’s why she hasn’t stepped foot in any sort of large building in years. by some miracle, she’s survived a bombing once, how on earth could she do it again?

but to her luck, the ceremony is over before she knows it, and she’s about to escape before her neighbor yanks her back by the collar of her jacket. she pouts, rolls her eyes, and turns around to face her.

“meet my neighbor, sevika. this is her first time joining us.”

“nice to meet you, sevika.” and the man sticks his arm out to sevika, awaiting a returned hand shake. she doesn’t return it though, and she doesn’t even look at him. instead she just stares at the floor and says “yeah… thanks…”

her neighbor nudges her shoulder for being rude, but she doesn’t owe anyone anything. she doesn’t know if the man who tried to shake her hand is same guy who’s been blabbering on this whole time, but if it is, she doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“sevika, what the hell was that? i didn’t bring you here to be rude, i brought you here to learn something.”

sevika scoffs with a fake laugh, “i don’t need you to parent me.”

“then stop acting like a kid, let’s go meet more people.”

how was she gonna get out of this? oh well, in only a few hours she’ll be home again, resting and recharging in bed under the covers. she follows behind her neighbor like a lost puppy, not even looking in front of her, just staring down and making sure that she’s following the correct pair of shoes.

you greet sevika’s neighbor warmly, she’s a familiar face you’re always glad to see. sevika’s figure almost startles you when you peek up, almost. but you get yourself under control, asking the sweet older woman “who’s this?”

“this is sevika, my neighbor. it’s her first time joining us today.”

“oh! nice to meet you, sevika.” you smile, keeping your hands to yourself. sevika doesn’t know what to think of you, you’re so… different from everyone else here. you’re not dressed like everyone else, you look more like sevika than you do the others. but she wouldn’t expect someone like you to work at a church, would she? god, how the world has changed.

“nice to meet you.” she says, not bothering to attempt a weak smile, but giving a cordial nod in your direction anyways.

“we hope to see you around here soon. if you need anything, you know where to find me. although, you look like you’re in good hands.” you offer, giving sevika’s neighbor a friendly pat on the shoulder. sevika watches you walk off, wishing she could dissect you a little more. but she doesn’t hesitate to exit the building when her neighbor declares that it’s time to leave.

“are you hungry?” her neighbor asks once they’re in the car.

sevika’s mouth speaks before she can stop herself, “yes. starving.”

“good, you’ll come over for brunch. that wasn’t a question, by the way.” she smiles.

sevika rolls her eyes and almost smiles back. almost. but the ache in her lower back is making it hard to be happy in this moment.

her neighbor’s apartment is quite grandmotherly, to put it nicely. she has two cats— a black ball of fluff named “fluffy” and a skinny, all white cat named “snowy”, both of which were named by her grandchildren. there are plants and paintings and handmade quilts littering her place, every one of them having a story behind it. it’s cute, sure, but a little bit too maximalist for sevika’s enjoyment. at least she has furniture. good quality furniture.

a steaming teacup is placed in front of her seat at the counter, and both of the cats jump up to check it out. in all honesty, sevika thinks it’s kinda gross to live with animals. she doesn’t know where the hell those cats paws have been, and if it were up to her they wouldn’t be on the kitchen counter.

the cats waddle over to sevika, getting too close to comfort in an attempt to investigate the strange woman sitting at their counter. once she’s deemed safe, they raise their backs and point their tails up as if to ask for pets, but sevika scowls and awkwardly scoots away from the strange animals.

“not a cat person?” her neighbor laughs.

“no… not an animal person in general, really.”

“they’re sweet. give ‘em a pet.”

“no thanks…”

“fine. but you better eat up before they eat it for you.” her neighbor says, shoving a tall stack of pancakes in front of sevika. it’s a heavenly sight, and she almost feels bad for eating it instead of staring at the masterpiece for a while longer.

but that hungry pit in her stomach only grows and shoves itself against her stomach, so she has no choice to dig in. not that she’s complaining, and they taste absolutely divine. she grows uncomfortable again, last time she felt divine was the worst day of her life. it’s almost like a curse— one that never lets her feel true enjoyment.

fluffy and snowy meow loudly at her neighbor for food too, so she grabs a small dish and starts plopping some wet food onto it. again, sevika can’t fathom why someone would do that. on the counter? where she’s eating? but it’s not her apartment, so she keeps her mouth full of pancakes to stop the complaints.

she can’t wait to get home. checking the time, she realizes that it’s now afternoon. this has been the most eventful day she’s lived through in a while, and that triggers her anxiety to tone everything down. she needs a drink and a nap, so she thanks her neighbor and heads one door up the hall to her own apartment.

her door is unlocked, just how she left it, and she realizes that the only valuable thing in her apartment might be her liquor cabinet. maybe she should get a lock after all. add that to the list.

she guzzles down some whiskey directly from the bottle before stopping to take a breath. with how much she’s been drinking lately, she barely gets drunk anymore. it’s not fair, she might just have to find something stronger. jesus christ, i’m gonna drink myself to death. before she has a chance to bury herself back in bed, her phone rings. how strange, she hasn’t gotten a call in years. but what choice does she have, other than to lift up the receiver?

“yes?” she groans.

“hello,” you greet, a bit disturbed that someone would answer the phone with just ‘yes?’ “is this sevika?”

“who are you?”

“i’m from the church, we met earlier.”

“oh… okay… so…?”

“so, i wanted to tell you that i meant it when i said i hope you join us again. it was nice to see you, we rarely get any newcomers in this small town but… i can tell that you’re different.”

“okay…” sevika says. there is no way she’s stepping foot in that building again. jesus christ himself could not drag her in there.

“so… you’ll come?”

“i still need to be convinced.”

“easy. but i’ll need you to show up for that.”

“maybe.” she says, and you feel like you can hear a hint of promise in her voice.

“okay, well, have a good rest of your day. i’ll see you soon. maybe.” you say, about to hang up.

“how did you get my number?” she questions.

“helen gave it to me.”

“…who?”

“your neighbor? helen?”

“oh… right.” how could she not know her own neighbor’s name?

“sevika, don’t worry.” you assure her. “i’ll help you believe.” and the line goes quiet.

iv. I WILL DELIVER, YOU KNOW I’M A FORGIVER

that day was the first time you saw sevika, and you wish you could live in that moment forever. she was so soft and so sharp at the same time, and it was surprisingly harmonious. her physical features were striking, she looked almost… scary. but that scariness was easily cancelled out by her gentleness.

her cheeks were thin and sunken, but her chin effortlessly faded into the smooth skin of her neck. her nose stuck straight out of her head, but there was a slight curve to it that made you wanna run a gentle fingertip over it. her eyes were bright and silver, but they were so big and so round. she was tall, sticking up higher than anyone else in the room, but her hips and thighs were so plush and thick, she took up just the right amount of space.

she was just plain gorgeous. usually you’d scold yourself for thinking about another woman this way, but you’d been slowly coming to terms with your sexuality. as long as you don’t act on it.

from the moment you laid eyes on her, you knew you had to guide her. it was like some sort of fate or destiny. here’s this immaculate woman showing up in front of you in desperate need of help, your help specifically. it was a perfect mission, you’d do anything in her power to earn her trust and to help her feel that faith.

by some miracle, she answered the phone when you rang. judging by her previous attitude, you almost expected her to storm back down to the church and smack you across the face. your conversation was unproductive, sure, but it was a good start. well, if she decides to show up, that is. you don’t doubt her, if anything you can just ask her neighbor to force her to tag along again.

the mental image of her floats around in your head all day. what are you gonna do when she does show up? give her some sort of speech? she’ll probably just tune you out like she does to the rest of the world. you wonder why she acts the way she does, there’s no way anybody with a normal life could act this guarded. you just hope she opens up eventually, you’d kill to get to know her.

sevika’s not amused. she doesn’t want anyone’s help, or to pretend to have faith in something that’s all just make believe. really, the only thing she wants is some peace and quiet, and for the pain in her shoulders to lessen. before returning to her den, she sluggishly trudges to the kitchen cupboards, yanking them open in search of some painkillers. to her luck, there are two small pills left, which she quickly downs. she chooses water over whiskey this time, shockingly, because she’s a little bit frightened by drinking herself to death. which is strange, and she wonders why she values her life so much.

no matter what you do, you can’t get this woman off of your mind. something about her makes you feel different than how other people make you feel, but you can’t tell what it is or why. you need a plan. you need to talk to her again. or at least some confidence would be handy. but instead of dwelling on it, you decide to go for a walk.

the walk doesn’t really work though, it actually does the opposite of clearing your mind. you have nothing to focus on, no work to do, so you just think. your mind runs wild the whole time. you’re so intrigued, so excited yet nervous, you feel like it’s almost a craving. almost, because you’re not really sure what a craving is. not until you meet her, at least.

after swallowing her pain meds, sevika crawls back into bed, the heavy feeling of anxiety that settled over her chest slowly but surely fades, and she’s eased into a light afternoon nap. the plain white walls of her room offer some familiar comfort, but the more she looks at them, the more she’s reminded of the hospital. fuck, maybe she should try to decorate the place. and she really does need to go shopping later.

——

she wakes up nearly three hours later feeling more exhausted than before she slept. at least she feels a bit more calm, but the looming feeling of her responsibilities made her groan. another reason why she doesn’t want pets: it’s another mouth to feed, to walk, clean up after, bathe, spend time with. she can barely do those things for herself, how on earth could she do it for something else?

rather than pouting about her responsibilities, she makes the tough decision to get out of bed and get started with her day. get started meaning that it’s almost 6:00pm and she’s only just now attempting to complete her to-do list. and so what? she lives on her own terms. she doesn’t bother brushing her messy hair after her nap, even less to keep it out of her face with a little half ponytail. it never works anyways, the wind whips it all around you until it sticks to the sides of your face with humidity.

so, that’s it then, and she shoves her shoes and her coat on and leaves. the door stays unlocked, of course, and she makes her way down the stairwell and out of the building. there’s a small grocery store on her block which is conveniently located next to a liquor store. if she has the funds after buying her necessities, she’ll stop in there for a treat. actually, she’ll probably stop in there anyways, but she likes to think that she still has some self control left when it comes to drinking.

does she remember what she needed to buy? no. and did she bother to write down her mental shopping list as it came to her? nope! but it’ll come to her. hopefully. she spends the whole walk there trying to focus on what she needs to spend her money on and what she wants to spend her money on. she needs more painkillers, more snacks, some sort of decoration for her place, and… was there something else?

she crosses into the store and she’s immediately greeted by the sound of loud pop music buzzing through the speakers. great, so she’s overstimulated already. she’ll make it quick, she decides, it’s not like she wanted to be here in the first place.

sauntering down the aisles, she picks up everything she needs. at least, everything she remembers that she needs. she grabs a large bottle of extra strength ibuprofen, more bread and butter, microwave meals, milk and eggs, and what else? before she can think of another thing to add, she decides to just leave. if she thinks of anything else, she can always just come back later.

her shoulders sag under the weight of her basket, full of stuff that’ll probably just rot in her fridge. as she approaches the register, she sighs as the man behind it attempts to strike up a conversation with her. she’s not interested, she never has been, and she has no clue why he insists on chatting with her every time she’s there.

she doesn’t respond to the man the entire time she’s there, just staring daggers past him. she doesn’t even muster out a “good evening” or “goodnight”. i mean jesus, even a “fuck you” might’ve been polite. it’s not like she cares.

but she does stop by the liquor store on the way home, as we knew she would. she decides to treat herself, picking up not only one, but two bottles off of the shelf. whiskey and vodka, not cheap but it does the job. the money will come back around anyways. the man behind the counter, this time stoned out of his mind, asks her what she’s gonna do with the alcohol.

“what am i gonna do with it?” she repeats, obviously annoyed and confused. “what the fuck do you think?”

“mannnn, i bet you could make a hundred bottles of homemade mouthwash with this stuff. fucking awesome.”

sevika rolls her eyes and collects the large glass bottles, shoving them into her bag as gently as she can. she has no idea why everyone’s so interested in talking with her tonight, it’s like she’s wearing a glowing neon sign above her head that says “TALK TO ME!”

does she look approachable? happy? friendly? welcoming? no, obviously not. she must not be part of this inside joke the world is playing on her tonight.

so you’re surprised to see sevika when you’re out for your second walk of the night. pacing around in your own house wasn’t working, and all you wanted was some fresh air. well, maybe not fresh, but the temperature definitely did shock you. you almost walked right past her until you recognized her statuesque figure. she was across the parking lot, rolling her eyes and shoving the door to the liquor shop open as she stepped back outside.

huh. sevika at a liquor shop. not necessarily unusual for a person, but forbidden for you. you wonder if this is a ritual for her, if she’s gonna go home and get drunk or something, or maybe if she’s gonna split the bottle with some friends. does she even have friends?

you turn around and head in the same direction she does, hoping your paths cross before her quick, long strides can leave you behind. and you eventually catch up to her, pretending you had no idea you’d run into her, you greet her with a “oh, sevika! hey, i didn’t expect to see you here.” except, you did expect to see her here. you already spied her storming out of the liquor store. ugh, you’re such a bad liar.

“oh… hi.” she mumbles, a little disturbed by your sudden appearance, and already burnt out from the two people who’ve made small talk with her in the past hour. while you stand in front of her, she raises her eyebrow slightly as if to signal that she’s waiting for you to say something before she walks away.

“i’ll see you next week, yeah?” you remind her, not really sure of what to say. partly because the meeting is so sudden, and partly because this woman is breathtaking.

“yeah, maybe.” she agrees halfheartedly.

“i don’t want your ‘maybe’s sevika. i want you to say yes to me.” you challenge, huffing at her indecisiveness. “if you want me to help you, i need a yes.”

“help me with what?” she asks, pretending to be shocked and offended at your words. you stutter, staring up at her with a sorry look in your eyes.

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“i’m just fucking with you.” she says, chuckling to herself and offering a small smile. and as if her face couldn’t get any more perfect, you notice a small gap between two of her top teeth. she’s so beautiful you feel like you’re gonna melt, even in this chilly autumn weather.

before you think about what you’re saying next, you blurt out a “tomorrow? can i see you tomorrow?”

she raises her eyebrows at your bluntness, the suggestion seems to come out of nowhere. but what else does she have to do? and she already feels bad for fucking with you all of the time, shouldn’t she just give in and attend whatever stupid meeting you have planned for her?

“i— i guess, yeah.”

“you guess?” you tease. “or you will show up?”

“i will. i’ll see you tomorrow.” she admits with a huff.

“good, i’ll see you tomorrow too then.” you say, and you offer her a small wave before walking past her and continuing with your walk. after seeing her, your mind automatically feels so much clearer considering the fact that she was the one occupying all of your thoughts.

sevika stands frozen in place as you walk away, holding her bag in her hand as she reflects on what she just agreed to. why the fuck would she say yes to that? she doesn’t believe in any of your religious bullshit, and she doesn’t care to try. but it’s too late, she’ll just have to let you down easy when tomorrow comes.

but when tomorrow does come, she decides to go a little bit easier on herself. it’s not like you’re trying to annoy her with all of your beliefs and jargon and whatnot, and she can tell that this actually does mean a lot to you. plus, she’s in a good mood after remembering that she bought two new bottles of alcohol. she even ate a little bit last night and managed to keep it all down, which is a rare occurrence for her. so yeah, it might be a good day.

the sun peeks out just a tiny bit from behind the clouds as she walks herself back to the church, which offers a nice, although minuscule, bit of warmth. you’re already there by the time she arrives, and you greet her with a warm smile and invite her down the long hallway to your ‘office’. it’s not technically a real office since you don’t do too much work other than filing papers and planning events, you just begged them to give you a room that you could sit alone in sometimes.

you don’t have any sort of plan on how you’re gonna convert sevika, or how to at least help her fix up her life a little bit, but you do wanna get to know her. so you start with that. you ask her where she’s from and if she’s lived here her whole life, and you’re surprised to learn that she used to work in new york. all the way across the country.

she hesitates to tell you why she left though, saying she’d rather save it for a later session when she gets more comfortable. which she regrets almost instantly, because she just solidified herself another few meetings like these. she tells you more, like how she was always close with her mother until she passed when sevika was only ten. and how she definitelty inherited some anger from her dad, even though she never liked him.

her childhood was interesting. to you at least. she was just stable enough to keep herself afloat, but unstable enough for her to be left with some sort of trauma. she moved out as soon as she reached eighteen and never looked back. she scoured for jobs that would be good for someone like her, someone broken but strong. resilient, you call it.

the two of you chat for nearly three hours, you asking questions after question and her answering nearly all of them. but the one question that you’re too scared to ask is this: what happened that turned her into… this? she said it had something to do with her job, something that just completely broke her and left her unable to snap back. but what was it? how bad could it have been? what job did she have? was it her fault? but you did agree to letting her tell you on her own terms, so you’ll just have to wait until she’s ready.

eventually your time is up, and you walk sevika back out of the double doors of the small building. she flashes you a small smile, one that you’re already obsessed with, and she turns to leave.

“wait.” you call after her, although she’s only about six feet away from you. “you don’t have a car?”

“no.”

“how did you get here?”

“i… walked…” she says, waiting for you to get to your point.

“all this way?”

“it’s only about a block and a half.”

“but— well…” now you feel bad. you didn’t know that you were forcing her to exercise her exhausted joints and muscles in this weather. sure, maybe she doesn’t mind, but if you were her you’d probably throw a tantrum. “do you want me to drive you?” you ask.

“sure, if you really want to.”

“of course i want to.” you say, and you practically drag her off of the sidewalk and shove her into the passenger side of your car. the drive is short, her building really is just about a block and a half away.

“i’ll see you next week.” you say.

“yeah, see you then.” she responds, and for once it doesn’t feel forced or awkward.

“and tell helen i say hi if you see her. assuming you know who she is?” you giggle.

“yes, i know my own neighbor.” she says, rolling her eyes and chuckling.

“just making sure…” you tease.

sevika just laughs and waves you goodbye through your front window, disappearing into the building and up the stairs. you don’t even register it— to busy with staring at her back— but eventually it hits you that she laughed. this mysterious, guarded woman laughed at something you said. and she spent the last three hours opening up to you about her life. and for the first time in quite a while, you feel like you’re finally good at your job.

——

sevika’s been following through on her promise, meeting you for exactly four weeks now. twenty eight days. you started out with just seeing her twice a week, then every other day, and now you see each other daily. she opened up to you about how much she hates the church setting, how it activates her fight or flight response and brings up old memories, so you switched to taking her to a small local cafe instead.

it’s great. you get to have real coffee, not the burnt stuff from the coffee pot in the church’s kitchen. you’ve also been forcing sevika to eat after learning that it’s been a struggle for her. nothing big, but you make sure she always has at least a muffin or a croissant in her stomach. you pick her up and driving her there too, which is good for her because she can finally relax instead of being worn out from walking everywhere.

she’s taken a liking to you, every morning she’s glad she wakes up because she knows she can see you again. it’s such a strange feeling, but she enjoys it. opening up to you wasn’t as difficult as she thought it would be either. you listen so attentively, and you’re always careful to ask appropriate questions and give her a break without her even having to ask for one.

it’s never been easy for her to talk about what happened in her past, and she wishes she had the ability to forget about it completely. but it’s easier with you. every time her eyes grow wide and teary as she pictures the bodies, you change the topic and point at a cute dog outside of the window. or when she gets choked up, stumbling over her words because the brutality of the situation is just too much for her, you let her take her time.

the most memorable moment for her was when she told you about that kid with the blue hair. everything else, sevika managed to stay under control about. sure, the mangled body parts and the melted flesh was bad, but that fucking kid. her lips were still blue. she’d been so alive only moments earlier, smiling as sevika gave her a fist bump and held her in her arms, and she was gone just like that.

when she told you, she couldn’t help but break down in heavy sobs. you could feel your heart shatter at this— the story and sevika’s reaction to it. you scrambled from your side of the booth to hers, scooting in next to her and wrapping her up in a hug as she cried. to your surprise, she hugged you back. she hooked her chin over your shoulder, grabbed you tightly in her strong arms, and just let herself go.

it’s the most tranquility she’s ever felt, and it put all of her past therapists to shame. immediately after that day, the two of you were bonded. you’d do anything for her. be a shoulder to cry on, drive her to and from her various doctors appointments, and make sure she’s eating.

she’s started to trust you, and she agreed to going back to the church with you a few times a week. instead of taking your usual spot with the rest of the staff and speakers, you sit with her every time. sevika on your left, her neighbor on your right.

today you’re feeling particularly bold for some reason, you suspect it might be because of your friendship with sevika, but this feels different. well, you know how it feels, but you’re scared to admit it. although you’ll probably be fine, you’re hesitant to say it to yourself out of the fear that you’ll be thrown out of the church. yes, you like sevika, and sure, she is a beautiful woman. but you just can’t bring yourself to say it. to say that you have a real crush on her. to admit that you want her.

so instead of saying anything, you use your actions instead. glancing over both of your shoulders, you make sure that nobody important is looking in your direction before you snake your hand forward and wrap your hand around sevika’s. this action is the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone, and your cheeks are practically on fire with how hard you’re blushing. you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building could hear your heartbeat right now.

sevika adjusts her fingers so that she’s gripping your hand firmly, and you feel so… dirty, almost. you know that this is nothing, but you’re scared and ashamed of what other people might think. but although it initially feels wrong, you settle down when you realize that nobody’s looking— even more that nobody cares— and it feels so right. her hands are surprisingly warm and soft, they feel so welcoming and familiar against yours.

maybe, just maybe, you’ll hold her hand more often. but for now, this is just a one-time occurrence.

she notices the panicked look in your eyes as you stare straight ahead. she tries to nudge you gently, but you’re in such a deep stupor that you don’t notice it.

“hey.” she whispers, elbowing you a bit harder than last time. “you okay?”

you realize now that she’s trying to talk to you, so you just squeeze her hand and give her a small nod, blinking your eyes a few times and trying to snap back into reality. once the ceremony is over, you stand and walk sevika and her neighbor to the door quickly.

“are you sure you’re alright?” she asks again.

“yeah, it’s nothing.”

“you know that… this works both ways, right?” she says, gesturing between both of your bodies. “if you need someone to talk to, i can listen.”

“i know, thank you.” you start. “but it’s not like that. it’s nothing… bad. i think? but i’m fine. or— i will be fine.” you say, stumbling over your words incredibly hard.

“you don’t seem fine to me.” she retorts.

“i am, thank you though. get home safely.” you choke out, missing a crucial part to your signature goodbye’s.

“…see you tomorrow?” she asks.

“oh, yes! see you tomorrow, i knew i was forgetting something.”

sevika flicks you on the forehead, before turning to leave. “get some rest, then.”

“i will.” you laugh, although it’s forced.

as soon as her and her neighbor are out of sight, you turn around and make a beeline for your office at the end of the hall. your eyes are glued to the floor, purposefully ignoring anyone’s gaze in case they try to chat with you.

the door clicks locked behind you, and you slump down in our office chair. with your head in your hands, you start to cry. the anxiety in your chest is just too much to handle, and you’re so upset with yourself. you’re upset because it felt so good to be that close to her, and you let yourself indulge in something you know you’ll never get to have. you allowed yourself to catch feelings, but you know you can’t go any further. you’ll have to stick with just thinking she’s pretty and sweet and yours, and watch her fall in love with another woman.

worst of all, she’ll probably fall in love with a woman who’s the total opposite of you. someone who’s experienced and not awkward and cool. and not you. and this really hurts to realize.

what are you supposed to do now? now that you’ve admitted how you feel to yourself, what else is there to do? you can’t ask her out on a date, that would be against everything your community believes in. but are you really supposed to just sit here and play along? it’s not fair. your adrenaline is so high right now that all you really want to do is run.

and that's just what you do. you don't even bother to use the exit door down the hallway, you just peel your window open and hop out of it. tears prickle your eyes and the frosty air nips at your skin, but it helps even out your overheating temperature. you’ve walked this route a millions times already, it’s nothing different but the gentle scenery offers a nice place to think.

you think about all of the sweet moments you’ve shared together, specifically about how much it means to you. you’ve never really had a friend like this before. sure, you’re convivial, but having someone like this was so different. she was yours. and you’d gladly be hers if she asked you to, but would she ask you to? would she ever ask someone like you to be hers?

but you also think about how much your religion means to you. you’ve been part of this for so long, working harder to have a strong sense of faith every single day. if you get with sevika, they could cut you off in an instant, and it would’ve all been for nothing. your reputation would be ruined, and if you’d ever wanna start over with another church, you’d have to leave this small town. leave your home.

it’s just not fair. why did god make you this way? for everyone else, falling in love with a man is no problem. they were made the right way, or at least know how to ignore their true feeling really well. was there some sort of secret lesson that you missed? that everyone is in on besides you?

once you get dizzy and out of breath, you find a stump to sit on and reflect. your shoes kick at the dirt underneath you, brain fuzzy as you try to decide on what to do. little bugs crawl around on the ground beneath you, each one of them having a family and a home. i wish i could have a family, you think. you can hear rain pattering on the leaves of the trees above you, but you stay dry. well, as dry as you possibly can be living this close to the ocean.

you don’t even realize how long you’ve been sitting here lost in your thoughts before the sky turns a lovely light shade of orange, and you realize you’d better leave now if you wanna get back before dark. the only thing on your mind as always is sevika.

sevika has been thinking about you all night too, wondering if you’re okay after the way you acted. she won’t push, she wants to give you time to open up to her the same way you did, but she just worries. and she misses the warmth of your hand in hers, although she could tell you were nervous. in her opinion, it was cute. she admires how gentle you are, how you always make sure others are alright before making sure you are alright. but whatever it is, she doesn’t doubt that you’ll be fine.

leaving your window open was a stupid idea, now your entire office is cold and there’s a puddle of rainwater leaking down the bottom of the window and onto the floor. but you’ve made up your mind. you need to call her. you know that she’s infinitely more experienced with these feelings than you are, so she’ll be able to help you, even if those feelings are about her.

she’s about to go to bed early when her phone rings again. she knows it’s you before she even picks up— you’re the only one with her number.

“yes?”

“…sevika.” you sob out, the small whimper of her name followed by sniffles and cries.

“holy shit, are you okay?” she asks frantically, scared that maybe you’re hurt or something.

“well… physically yes. but i just… miss you. i need to talk to you in person.”

“okay, yeah. i’m on my way.” she says, and she practically flies out of her building and down the street to get to you. it’s not late, but the sky is already pitch black due to how early the sun sets. you meet her at the door again when she arrives, and the sight of her instantly calms your nerves. she looks so worried, it makes your heart twist. you’re so in love and it’s all her fault.

she doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in her arms as you sob into her shoulder, and this gesture only makes you sob harder. because you’re so in love and you think you know which side you’re choosing. and it breaks your heart.

“what’s going on?” she asks, and you realize you’re still standing in the doorway.

“come inside, i’ll explain.”

“okay…” she whispers. “did something happen?”

“i have a question.”

“of course. ask me anything.”

“do you ever…” you trail off, trying to find the right words. “feel like… like you can’t live without someone? and you’d give up anything to be with them?”

“yeah, i guess i’ve felt that way before.” she admits quizzically.

“what’s it called?” you ask, although you already know the answer.

“love?” she guesses.

“sevika, can i tell you something?”

“yeah, go ahead.” she says, worried that maybe you’re about to admit to killing someone.

“i think…” you start, but you get interrupted by tears dripping past your eyes and down your cheeks.

“spit it out,” she prompts. “you can trust me.”

“i think i’m in love with you.” you blurt out, biting the bullet.

“oh…” she says, and she almost steps away from you before she realizes that you’re crying again. so she wraps you in another hug and rubs your back. you grip onto her so hard you can barely breathe, and you cry in her arms for so long that you’re brought to your knees. sevika holds you even after you fall the the floor, keeling before you as your knees give out.

she’s in love with you too, but she didn’t wanna say anything in case it made you uncomfortable. plus, she’s not really into corruption or anything, so she decided to just respect your boundaries. but eventually her joints grew sore of sitting on the floor, so she rose, holding your face in her hands and wiping up all of your tears as they fall.

v. REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH

every little thing about her attracted you. sevika was a lost soul, mysterious above all. a woman who needed help and direction but was so strong, you swore she could hold the whole world on her shoulders, no matter how much she’d whine about the pain. she complains about people— how there are too many of them and how they’re all stupid— but she’d give her life in a heartbeat to save them.

you couldn’t crack her, no matter how hard you tried.

she looked down at you with her silver eyes sparkling in the candlelight, her hair falling over her face in a silky curtain. you gasped as her thick hands took their place on either side of your head, each one cupping your cheeks so tenderly although they have a rough exterior. you always knew she was capable of being gentle.

you looked up at her from your position on your knees, her torso looking impossibly longer than usual. something comes over you, something that warms up your stomach until you feel so dizzy you feel the need to reach for something to steady yourself. unaware of just how much trouble this would get you in, you end up grabbing for her upper thighs. they’re so thick that your hands are almost completely flat, but they’re sturdy. perfect for grabbing onto.

she chuckles at your flushed state, huffing out an amused “it’s alright, you can touch me if you want. you won’t burst into flames.”

those two sentences make your cheeks heat up involuntarily. you know what she’s implying, and it makes you feel strangely electric. if you don’t burst into flames by this act of sinning, you’ll burst into flames due to how flustered you are. she does something to you that feels so enchanting, like some sort of spell she’s casted. you’ve been frozen in place for so long that you hardly register the soft caress of her thumbs against the apples of your cheeks. if she were medusa, you’d get turned to stone in an instant.

“sevika, what are you— we should—”

“what are you thinking about right now?” she asks, tauntingly putting an end to your stuttering mess of a sentence.

“uh— medusa. and you. you remind me of her.” you choke out, reaching up and gripping onto her biceps before hauling yourself up.

“how so?”

“i always feel like you put me under some kind of spell. like when i’m with you i’m frozen in place. in a good way.” you respond, your breath tickling her face as you gaze up at her from a closer distance this time.

most of your dizziness has relented, and now you sense something softer in the way sevika gazes at you. like she’s pleading for something she doesn’t know how to ask for. she stammers back, almost hitting the wall, and you grow concerned. the roles have shifted. little do you know, you’re in power now. she feels… weak. and needy. something tingly settles in her stomach, she can’t decipher whether it’s anxiety or horniness.

“sevika?” you ask with concern, slowly walking over to where she’s pressed against the wall. her chest heaves as she breathes deeply, and she shivers when you reach out to grab her hand. “are you feeling alright?”

“i don’t think i can do this anymore.” she confesses, her big, silver eyes growing glossy with tears. “i’m— i can’t do this to you.”

“what are you talking about?” you attempt to soothe, worried that maybe she’s suddenly gotten possessed or something.

“you belong here, sevika. you’re not doing anything wrong. if anything, it’s me who should back off right now.”

“it’s not about that.” she sighs, unable to meet your gaze, her eyes instead settling for your lips. a sight she’s seen many times before in her most erotic fantasies.

“what are you feeling right now?” you ask, your therapist persona settling over you in case she’s about to reveal more of her past trauma.

“i… i can’t say it.” she whispers, now solely focused on the curve of your lips and how they’re still shining from the last time your tongue trailed over them.

“you can trust me.” you whisper back. “always.”

sevika studies your words in her mind, hoping that you’d still mean them if you could see the thoughts running wild in her mind right now. she inches closer to you and her nose almost brushes yours. the tension in the room makes her squirm, thighs pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them. somehow, in some strange way, this feels better than sex. better than anything she’s ever smoked, any liquid she could get drunk on.

you are her intoxicant. her stronger substance. her higher power. her breath of fresh air in this humid town. you are what she’s been searching for.

before she makes another move, she pauses. you’re looking at her with such concern, such love, her heart feels like it’s gonna burst. she theorizes that you’re aware of exactly what she’s thinking, but she has no way to know. sevika wonders how you’d react if she leaned forward and kissed you right now.

you have a sneaking suspicion that she’s thinking of something… lustful right now. it shows in her eyes. wide with pupils big and blown out, and the silver in them is practically glittering. she looks pretty, you think, and soft. and although it’s against almost everything you believe in, you probably wouldn’t mind if she leaned in right now and just—

her lips come crashing against yours, a beautiful harmony of carnal aggression and tender care. gravity suddenly feels about twenty times stronger, and you near collapse in sevika’s strong arms. instead of that, you regain your balance after stumbling and back her against the wall. her back hits it with a thud, and she whimpers into your mouth. she whimpers.

it’s as if everything you’ve ever believed in suddenly floods out of your mind. you don’t care which god sees you kissing another woman with such animal desire. somehow it doesn’t matter to you anymore. all that matters is sevika. her safety, her trust, her pleasure.

for once, you allow yourself to feel this way. although it feels wrong, it’s so freeing. you’re an adult for god’s sake, and you’ve missed out on so much due to the strict rules of the church. you want this, you deserve this. after all, it is technically your job to guide sevika, to make her feel good. how is this any different?

as her lips part, you take the chance to slide your tongue over hers. just a gentle brush, but the warm heat of her mouth drives you crazy. her hands claw at your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no gap between the pair of you. this level of closeness isn’t something you’re used to, but fuck, it feels so right.

you can feel the way her thighs tighten when she squirms and clenches them together, feel her own tits rub against yours through your clothes. the intimacy of the moment almost feels awkward, especially because it’s completely silent other than the sounds of your lips smacking together. but before you can dwell on the embarrassment crashing over you, sevika grounds you by moaning your name into your mouth.

as if you weren’t already turned on, this flips a switch and activates something in you that’s a hundred times stronger. both of you pant when you pull back, staring into the silver pools of sevika’s irises. you need her. now. in every way possible.

“take your clothes off.” you demand. sevika nods momentarily, but she hesitates.

“are you sure? we don’t need to— if you’re not comfortable with it that’s fi—”

“now, sevika.” you huff at her attempt to be gentlemanly, but you know she’s craving this as much as you are.

without another word, she strips herself of her shirt, leaving her in just a black sports bra and jeans. you halt your own undressing to stare at her. and god. she’s fucking perfect. her abdomen carries the remnants of what you assume used to be a thick six pack of abs. and although you can’t exactly see them yet, her tits are wide and heavy looking, her ribs poking out slightly under them.

something that you didn’t expect to turn you on is her happy trail. she’s got a thick line of dark, coarse hair running from her belly button all the way down to—

her pants drop to the floor as you continue to stare at her, and your eyes trail lower and lower until they reach the ground. her thighs look impossibly thicker, and you’re surprised about how much she complains about her body. she looks so strong, like nothing could ever hurt her. and as for being insecure? impossible for someone who looks as good as she does. you’d do anything to make her aware of just how beautiful she is.

as she stands almost naked before you, she peeps out a timid “your turn.”

before you think twice, you tackle her to the floor, crushing her lips under yours and shoving your tongue back into her mouth. she whimpers when she hits the ground, albeit mostly out of pain instead of pleasure. you slightly pull away with a gasp, concerned about potentially hurting her— the opposite of your intentions.

“fuck, sorry.” you groan against her lips. “did i hurt you?”

“it’s alright.” she responds. “worth it to have a pretty thing like you on top of me.”

with that, you’re kissing her even deeper, grabbing onto the back of her head to get a better angle with your tongue. she shuffles slightly under you, bucking her hips up as she unbuttons your own pants. shit, you think to yourself, i’ve never done this before.

your bottoms are quickly discarded, sevika throws them somewhere behind you the second they’re off. you’re dying to get your hands on her tits, but you don’t know how to ask. it’s a good think she can always tell what you’re thinking, because she reaches up to hook her thumbs under her bra and yank it off. and god, you were right. her tits are wide and heavy, they’re so smooth and round with the most perfect brown nipples sitting proudly in the center of each one.

you lean forward to give each one a kiss, just a gentle brush, but it doesn’t really satisfy your craving for her. you pout, you’re so horny that it hurts. no matter what article of clothing she removes, it’s not enough. you just wanna crawl inside of her and live there.

“what’s wrong?” she asks.

“i need you.”

“have you ever had sex before?”

“no. i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“guess it’s my turn to guide you.” she laughs, and although the joke was stupid, you giggle too. you didn’t know it could be this fun.

she shuffles under you as she slides her boxers off, and you almost drool at the sight of her bush. it’s just so… beautiful. and intimate. she pats your hips as a signal to scoot off of her, and she spreads her legs before manhandling you to sit your cunt on top of hers. as soon as you connect your cunt with hers, you swear you black out.

it all feels so good. she keeps spreading her legs wider to help you get a better angle against her clit, and you can feel it throbbing against yours. you thought holding her hand was intimate, but this is so much more than you could’ve imagined.

“fuck, sevika.” you moan, tears crashing over you again and dripping onto her cheeks now. “you’re so beautiful.”

she groans at this, tears washing over her too. she hasn’t felt beautiful in so long, and here you are completely undoing her insecurities. all of the scars on her face, cheeks, neck, arms, and torso get kissed. you trail your fingers along some, your tongue along others. you want her to feel loved. you want her to feel the exact same way that she makes you feel.

“you’re beautiful too.” she admits sheepishly. “i can’t believe i haven’t fucked you sooner.”

this flusters you. it’s hard for you to believe that anyone can just be this confident saying things like that, especially because you’re not used to it. but it feels so good to be desired. to have the woman of your dreams using you to get off.

you’re both so sensitive that it doesn’t take long for either of you to cum. sevika’s catches her first after you tell her how beautiful her scars are, even though she used to believe they were the ugliest things known to mankind. she gasps as she cums, her thick cream leaking out of her cunt and down her ass.

you eventually follow after her when she readjusts, moving one of her hands down from your neck onto your hip. she grinds up into you, and your clit meets hers at such an angle that you cum with a scream. it’s dizzying. you gasp and moan and writhe as your orgasm crashes down over you. considering that it’s your first, you weren’t expecting it to be so enveloping. you were taught that sex was unholy, gross, sinful, and a plethora of other negative adjectives.

but it’s not.

you imagine that this is what heaven feels like, a shock of pleasure that runs through your body and leaves you panting and reeling. and it’s fun. as soon as you come down, sevika’s congratulating you on a good job and holding you close. you cry again, but this time not out of fear, out of certainty. you have it all figured out. you’ve just felt the best sensation of your life and here’s the love of your life smiling up from under you.

and so sevika holds you for another few minutes. yeah, you’re both naked in the middle of church, and yeah you’d be burned at the stake if anyone ever found out. but you wouldn’t mind that, as long as you have sevika with you.

“sevika?” you ask after a long while of silent kisses and tickling breaths.

“yeah?”

“i think we need to get out of here.”

“alright. where to?”

“i dunno. let’s leave the country.”

sevika laughs at this, and it’s a sound prettier than anything you’ve ever heard. something you’ll never get sick of. “fuck, i love you so much.”

but before convincing her to leave the country with you, you drive her to a small 24 hour diner down the street and have dinner together. it’s a real date, although all of those coffee shop meeting have gotta count for something too. you hold her hand across the table, this time not afraid, and share a milkshake just like they do in the movies.

so yeah, maybe things didn’t work out for you with this certain group of people, and maybe it does still take a while for you to get over your fear of societal rejection, but sevika is there for you every step of the way. as your girlfriend. officially.

OK HAIII if you made it all the way through my the treacherous jungle of my yap and you’re reading this, thank you so much!!!! i poured my entire heart and soul (and pussy) into this so i hope u enjoyed hehehe :P special thanks to pluto, rayray, eren, and lyss for allowing me to yap about this fic to them, i couldn’t have done it without you guys 🥹 my favorite people in the world right here, MWAH here’s a kiss from ennabear <3 and another thanks to the rest of my mutuals for putting up with the empty promises of “coming soon” at least it’s actually finished now!! i love all of you, let me know what you thought of this one!!! comments and reblogs are very highly appreciated 🤎🤎

[onlinedolly]

i'd love to hear ur jjk incest thoughts n hcs ... anything 🤲🏻

JJK INCEST RAMBLES

cw: incest (obv), mean getou, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, p in mouth, cock warming, blow jobs, lots of mentions of cum

an: i write dead dove/dark content please read my tags carefully and if these things make you uncomfortable please don’t read! as always MDNI!

GETO SUGURU:

he’s such a mean big brother, pressing against your tummy as his cock settles inside of you and you’re crying big crocodile tears.

“can you feel me, baby sis? all the way—“ he presses down on your tummy more, the pressure causing you to stir underneath him, “up here.” he laughs meanly, wiping away the tears that spill from your eyes roughly, with his free hand.

he pulls out a bit before ramming himself back into you harshly, sending a snot filled sob through your body. geto was a mean brother and meaner fuck, all confident in his movements as he rams into you at a rough pace.

your head hits the headboard repeatedly ad you whine out, “it hurts suguru please go slower!” to which he just laughs and picks the pace up, roughly grabbing your tit in his big warm hands.

you’re an overwhelmed mess when you cum, all tears and whimpers, as your body shakes and your cunt pulsates against his cock. he pulls out shortly after, stroking himself as he cums all over your stomach.

“can’t have my sweet sister pregnant can, we?” he snickers to himself.

TOJI FUSHIGURO:

you’d always been a shining jewel in your fathers life, a chance for him to start over after fucking up so badly the first go around. you were pretty and sweet and you loved your father so much, especially when you sat on his lap, his cock nestled inside you.

toji watched some show you couldn’t concentrate on as you cock warmed him. you shook like a pretty thing, your head nuzzled into his neck as you whimpered on and on about how much you needed him.

“good things come to those who—“ he readjusts his hips, causing you to take your father at a new angle that made you whine out, “wait.”

toji prides himself on training you into this, a pretty little cock whore for her own father. he didn’t think anyone else deserved you and who better to feel your tight cunt then the man who helped make you? he wraps his arms tight around you as he moves again, pushing himself deeper into you making you sob out.

“papa please,” you cry, placing soft kisses against the hollow of his neck. ‘you had been a good girl’ he thought, waiting so patiently for him to finish up his show. so in reward he grabs your hips in large, rough hands and picks you up before slamming you back down against his cock.

you cry out then, wrapping your arms around his neck as pretty little tears welled up in your eyes. you were already sensitive from sitting on his cock for what felt like ever and you didn’t know if you could take the ruthless pace he was bouncing you against him.

toji grunts loudly as he picks you up and drops you down against his large girth at a fast, dizzying pace. “that’s it, baby. feels good, don’t it?” he slurs out as he jerks his hips up to meet the pace he’s moving your body in.

“papa ‘s too much,” you sob out, your cunt drooling around his cock.

“too much? baby i’ve given you a lot worse,” he scolds, leaning down to pop a nipple in his mouth, biting down harshly.

when toji cums he stills the movement completely, holding your hips against his lap as he shoots his load inside of you. the minute you feel his cum spurt inside your tight cunt you cry out, chasing your own orgasm as you milk him greedily.

“gunna give me another fushiguro baby? betcha you’d look so cute swollen with a kid f’me.”

GOJO SATORU:

gojo’d been jealous when he found out your father was fucking you, a pretty little thing like you and he doesn’t think to share with his favorite brother?

he’d noticed you plenty of times, in small skirts and bows in your hair and he had to admit you’d formed into such a beautiful young lady. and so well trained too. it didn’t take much convincing to get you on your knees in front of him, his cock in your hands before he could even blink.

your father did a wonderful job in turning you into a pretty little cock whore, he’d have to thank him, he thought as you leaned in a licked a stripe underneath the base of his cock from balls to tip. she shuddered and you began kitten licking the precum off his tip, running his fingers through your hair and pulling.

“don’t tease girl,” he spoke sweetly, almost condescendingly, at his pretty little niece. and you just nod all kind and open your mouth before sucking him down in one go, you look up at him with doe eyes filled with tears as your nose tickles against his pelvic bone.

you hollow your cheeks once you take him all in and it causes satoru to groan loudly as he pulls rough against your hair once more. that’s when you begin a steady pace of sucking him off, up and down, your tongue lapping around his cock.

“god, your old mans been holding out on me, hm?” he moans out, thrusting his hips once, causing you to gag. he leans against the kitchen counter as you take him down your throat. he’s going to cum soon, he thinks, as he begins rolling his hips against your face.

his hips stutter as he cums, all of his muscles tensing as he rolls his head back and groans loudly. and just like a good little thing, you push yourself further down the length of his cock, swallowing anything he gives you.

he’s going to have to have a long talk with your father about sharing.

[perotovar]

limits — a minotaur!joel fic

pairing: minotaur!joel miller x m!oc/reader (unnamed and undescribed) rating: E (18+ mdni) word count: 2.2k content: au, porn with a little plot (but not really), monster fucking, joel is a literal bull-man, he doesn't speak but he understands humans, hentai logic/physics, don't think too hard about how this works physically, unprotected p in a, so much cum (like, a lot), breeding kink, aftercare, tiny bit of dubcon (if you squint), size kink, omegaverse dynamics/rules dividers: by @/saradika-graphics beta: @kedsandtubesocks (ily omg)

summary: so like, imagine a world where bulls evolved to be bi-pedal and can mate with humans, but it's not a common practice. don't think too hard about it, just imagine you're a new farm hand/stable boy and caught the attention of one of those bulls, okay?

written as a part of @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett 's Monster (S)mash challenge (so sorry for how late this is forgive meeee)

“Seein’ as it’s your first day, kid, I should warn ya,” the farmer started, resting an elbow on a bent knee, his foot resting on the fence in front of them. “This time’a year the bulls get a bit… restless.”

The young man blinked, cheeks heating up as he listened. “B-but aren’t they more focused on the cows?”

The farmer laughed, chewing on his tobacco as he watched the cows roam. “Well, sure, but they don’t seem to care much when they get like this. Just gotta put yer foot down and they’ll leave ya be, promise.”

The boy nodded and swallowed around a lump in his throat. He needed this job something fierce so a few horny bulls weren’t going to keep him from that. 

“Help me get that hay to the horses, wouldja?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wiping sweat from his brow, the young man smiled down at the work he’d accomplished. He looked to his left and saw the large bull pen. He’d been working on the farm as a hand for a little over a week now and had successfully avoided any unwanted attention so far.

He’d been learning all the animal’s names as well as their personalities and temperaments. Maggie was a lovely cow, a bit of a loner, but sweet as can be. Rex was easily the meanest of all the bulls, and he had to be taken away from the cows pretty often. 

But, Joel, well. He was easily the biggest of all the bulls. He was another loner, but in a distinctly different way than Maggie was. He stood at an imposing 9ft tall (horns not included) and had dark, curly fur that covered his whole body. His torso was barrel-shaped and as tough as any leather. 

The young man didn’t have much experience working with Joel, that was left to a select few employees on the ranch. Joel didn’t trust many people and whenever breeding season came around, he had to be taken to a secluded area. “Gets downright ravenous, that one,” the farmer had said. “Gotta cycle out the cows so they don’t get too tired.”

The boy had bit his lip in thought when he heard that. According to another hand on the farm, Joel had been the oldest of all the bulls and that was why he got the special treatment. He was the farmer’s favorite, but they didn’t understand why. He was grumpy and stubborn. 

The young man wasn’t surprised to hear that, to be honest. The older a bull got, the more ornery they were. That was just the way of things.

“Hey, kid, I’m gonna needja to take care of Joel’s pen for him.”

The young man looked up from his raking and shielded his eyes from the sun. “Oh. Are ya sure?”

“‘Course,” the farmer chuckled. “He’s out back gettin’ a bath, so he’ll need a clean pen to get back to.”

The boy nodded and gulped. “O’course, sir.” The farmer saluted in thanks before taking off to do his own chores. 

Exhaling a heavy breath, the young man grabbed a metal bucket, his rake, and some cleaning supplies before heading in the direction of Joel’s pen.

No one would have blamed him for thinking Joel’s pen would look like a tornado blew through, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.

It was clear where a lot of the rut had been taking place, with a decently sized pile of hay in the corner, but the whole place… reeked. It was musky and heady and thick. The young man wished he’d grabbed some sort of face mask before entering. He’ll probably have to wash his clothes a few times to get the stink out.

“Fuck it,” he whispered to himself, and got to work. There was so much of… Joel everywhere. He hadn’t been around Joel enough to personally know him, but this felt like an invasion of privacy. It looked like any other pen, with a large metal sliding door and roof, but it was clear Joel had marked his territory so no other bull would be caught dead in there.

“Hey, newbie!” Lynn, another hand, greeted cheerfully. Behind her, a large, imposing (and freshly bathed) Joel entered the pen. His big barrel chest heaved heavy breaths, deep eyes locked onto the boy. “Thanks for takin’ care o’ Joel’s pen for ‘im. I’m gonna go find a nice girl for ‘im, I’ll be right back!” She was gone before the young man could respond.

Joel walked closer towards the pile of hay, large snout smelling if things were where they should be. He grunted in approval when he realized his smell was still there. 

The young man watched before putting away his cleaning supplies. He stood frozen to the spot, Joel’s intense eyes making it hard to turn his back and leave. 

“U-um, I’ll just–” The young man pointed his thumb in the direction of the door to leave, but Joel gripped onto his overalls, stopping him in his tracks. “What are you–?”

Joel lifted him high off his feet and planted the young man’s crotch onto his snout. 

“J-Joel! What are you doing?!” He screeched, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Joel ignored him and inhaled the scent deeply, before exhaling a low, very pleased groan. “I’m–! I’m not a cow, I’m not what you want!”

Joel froze and looked the young man deep in the eyes, challenging him. Who was he to know what Joel wanted?

“Um, p-please put me down?” The boy stammered. Just then, his cock stirred in his overalls, betraying him. A twinkle appeared in Joel’s large, dark eye.

Before he knew it, Joel had him bent over a bale of hay with his legs kicked apart. Joel towered over him with a massive paw of a hand keeping his chest pressed to the hay. 

“Joel, please,” he whimpered, his body trembling in fear and… perhaps arousal, he really wasn’t sure. 

Joel huffed in response, asking what he wanted.

“I don’t– Wouldn’t you prefer a cow over… over me?”

Joel grumbled above him and ripped his overalls down his legs, pressing his large, very hard and leaking cock against the young man’s ass. He rolled his strong hips and groaned in response. Joel’s belly rested on top of the young man’s lower back, so he felt every heavy breath he exhaled. 

“I-I guess that answers that question…” He sighed. He hid his face in his arms and whined weakly. “Fine, just… Just do it, okay?”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned over the young man’s body and lifted his t-shirt, teasing his nipples. A large, thick tongue started probing at the young man’s earlobe, making him shiver in response.

“Oh,” he moaned, his own dick twitching to life between his legs. One of Joel’s large hands moved down to his ass to spread his cheeks and assess what he had to work with. Joel grunted appreciatively and started rubbing the boy’s hole in preparation.

A large glob of spit landed on the sensitive skin, easing the way for Joel’s thumb to pierce through. “Oh, fuck,” the boy gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily.

Joel hummed to himself and gripped his cock in his free hand. He started stroking it slowly before slapping the head against the young man’s cheek, giving him an idea of the size.

“Fuck, is… Is that thing gonna fit?”

Joel snorted before slowly pressing the head inside. It felt like the young man’s entire body was set on fire. He couldn’t feel his own legs beneath him, but he felt the pulsing of his cock throbbing between them. All the air left his lungs at once as Joel’s cock entered him further.

Joel stopped once a large thick ridge toward the base kissed the edge of the boy’s rim. He felt lightheaded, his eyes barely staying open as he adjusted to the full length of Joel’s cock.

“O-oh my god, I’m…” The young man trembled, voice pitched up an octave. “Am I dying?”

Joel made a low noise in his chest and leaned over to kiss and lick along the young man’s neck and ear. He was… comforting him, letting him take his time. Joel mooed quietly, almost like he was cooing words of praise to the boy. It made him feel like he could breathe again.

The young man rested his head on the bale of hay and tried to look back at Joel. “Okay, I’m… I think I’m okay,” he smiled sheepishly. “Go ahead, Joel.”

Before Joel started moving, one of his hands moved underneath them and covered the young man’s belly. He felt his cock through the skin, bulging through easily. He groaned in appreciation before adjusting his stance. The young man’s feet were hanging high off the floor of the pen like a ragdoll, his overalls still attached messily around his ankles.

Suddenly, as if someone had whistled for Joel to get started, he fucked hard and deep into the boy. The loud, almost comical sound of his heavy balls slapping against the young man’s tender flesh made him go dizzy. 

Joel gripped onto his narrow hips and set a punishing pace, rutting into him. He breathed heavily and grunted above the boy, sounding far away. 

The young man’s entire body moved back and forth against the hay bale, the scratchy feeling keeping him grounded as he ascended into another plane of existence. He had no idea being stretched so much and fucked so deep could feel so good. He didn’t want this to end. 

Just then, Joel decided he didn’t want that position anymore and lifted the young man into the air so his back was pressed to Joel’s barrel chest. The boy moaned loudly, resting his head on Joel’s broad shoulder.

Joel grunted and started using the boy’s body as if he were a fleshlight, lifting and lowering him at a punishing pace. The amount of precome leaking out of the boy’s hole and around Joel’s cock covered their bodies entirely. 

“I’m– I’m not going to last long, Joel,” the young man gasped, breath hitching with each powerful thrust. His eyes rolled back as Joel’s cock pummeled against his prostate, making him tremble weakly. The boy’s cock slapped lewdly against his lower stomach, precome splattering everywhere.

The boy’s stomach bulged with Joel’s cock, stretching the skin past its limits. He looked down to watch, mesmerized by the sight. How Joel’s cock fit inside him, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to question it.

Joel groaned deeply, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He must be getting close. 

“C’mon,” the young man whined, turning his head to look at Joel’s face. “Come inside me.”

Joel pushed him back down onto the bale of hay and pushed his cock even further inside. The ridge near the base of Joel’s cock made the boy gasp weakly, gripping onto the hay beneath to ground himself. 

Each smack of Joel’s hips against his ass had him letting out weak noises he didn’t even know he could make. Joel’s horns pierced into the hay as he rested his forehead against the boy’s back.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the young man chanted. “C’mon, Joel, please,” he whimpered.

If he could see him, he was certain steam left Joel’s snout as he panted and grunted behind him. Joel made a low groan before slamming one last time against the boy’s prostate and came like a geyser inside him. 

The boy gasped as he was filled up, coming untouched as he felt Joel’s cock pump inside like a hose. He trembled beneath the bull’s body, screaming into the hay. 

Joel exhaled heavily, hands gripped onto the boy’s hips tightly. He moved them slightly and noticed that they’d probably bruise soon. He hummed and leaned over to kiss and lick along the young man’s neck again, this time as an apology. He slowly pulled out and watched as his come poured out lewdly.

The boy panted hard, his body feeling more empty than it ever had in his life. His stomach felt full, though, which made him look down to see. Joel had well and truly filled him, it seemed. He couldn’t stop the giggle from leaving his body, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. 

Joel climbed onto the bale of hay with him and held the boy close, spooning him comfortingly. He turned the young man’s face and kissed and licked his tears away, mooing praises into his ear. The boy felt like his heart would burst from the tender act and silently cursed whoever called Joel grumpy and mean. 

“That was…” He giggled, breathing heavily. “I hope you got what you were looking for.”

Joel grunted in affirmation and held the boy close, one large hand holding his full belly. It dawned on him then that Joel probably thought that he’d just bred the boy. 

He didn’t have the heart to tell him it wouldn’t take.

“Sir, I had somethin’ to tell ya,” the boy said the next day, running up to the farmer with a bit more pep in his step. 

“What’s that, kid?” The farmer grinned, chewing more tobacco.

“Just wanted to let ya know that I think I cracked ol’ Joel. Think he likes me!”

“No kiddin’? Well, shit, I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth! If you’re thinkin’ he won’t mind, you’re welcome to take care o’ his pen for the rest of breedin’ season, then.”

The boy couldn’t stop the wide grin from growing on his face.

[coffeekittycatt]

Birthday Wish ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Notes: Rafayel x Reader fanfic. Fluff but suggestive ending. 1,169 word count.

Premise: You wish Rafayel was real.. now someone is suddenly knocking at your door.

- I am very new to writing fanfic so be patient with me 🙂‍↕️

link to pt 2:

—————————————————————————————

I peek outside my window. The sky, a soft mix of cotton candy colors. Today was my 23rd birthday, and I spent it how I usually do, alone. Sounds sad, but I don’t mind. I’ve learned to be independent since my father passed.

Happy birthday Sugar, I got us your favorite takeout. Let’s watch Mean Girls tonight!

The memory passes. Today makes a third birthday without you. I close my window blind and make my way to my recliner. It’s soft and cushioned. The house is quiet, a peaceful place even though it does gets lonely not having my dad around. He left his small cottage to me and it’s become my safe haven. Mostly everything is still in place from before he left. Except things that are entirely mine, like my room. I take a seat and sit back. My phone vibrates and lights up. “Hey (Y/N), hope you had a great birthday!! Looking forward to seeing you when I get back 🩷” Ana. My close friend. Her message is sweet, reminding me I am not totally alone on this day. We planned to hang out after she gets back from her New York trip. I smile and unlock my phone.

All I want to do now is my dailies in Love and Deepspace. I open the app and wait for it to load. I press enter and am surprised to see Rafayel on my sceen. I totally forgot that this game does something special for players’ birthdays! A cutscene starts and eventually Rafayel gives me a cute gift. “Happy birthday my dear girl..” he sings to me. Wow, he has an angelic voice. My eyes slightly water and my cheeks are warmed. Why am I getting emotional? I wipe my eye with my sweatshirt sleeve and continue tapping. “Don’t worry, if you’ve got my blessing, then the Guardian of the Sea is also aware,” He adds. I pause for a moment and decide to playfully say out loud, “I wish you were real, Rafayel.” I cringe at myself and laugh. Here I am crying over how sweet a character is. I need to get a grip! I finish out the cutscene and eventually I collect some rewards from completing my dailies. I don’t know when or how, but I somehow doze off and am fast asleep.

Knock Knock. I hear my back door. My eyes flick open. What the hell? Immediately I am panicked. My house is not very close to any neighbors. They would have to walk quite a bit to get to me. Even if it was a neighbor, why would they knock at the back door? Could it be a burglar? Someone in need? An axe murderer? I take a deep breath and hurry to grab my pepper spray. My dad always taught me to have something as self defense. I peek out the small window near the door. Dammit. It’s too dark to see anything. My back porch light isn’t working at the moment. I need to replace it soon for times like this. I am too afraid now. I stay silent and wait for the mystery visitor to take their leave. A moment passes and I hear it. Knock Knock. Oh man. I decide to get close to the door. “Who is it?” I call out. “It’s Rafayel, let me in!”, the intruder exclaims. Excuse me? What did I just hear? I don’t know anyone named Rafayel.

Me: “I don’t know you or recognize your name. How can I help you sir?”

R: “Ouch, you don’t know me? We’ve spent almost everyday together! Cmon, (Y/N). Did you forget your birthday wish already?”

My heart drops to my stomach. Rafayel? Birthday wish? My mind circles back to before my impromptu nap. The fucking mobile game?! I am screaming internally. Okay, this must be a dream..or a sick prank. Maybe I am going mentally insane. I need to shut this down. I ready my pepper spray and crack the door open. I peek out and immediately, in the dim light, I see purple. Purple, fluffy hair layered across. My body freezes up. My sight trails downward to a face. Beautiful, bluish-pink eyes look at me. A small pointed nose and soft pink lips are painted on this man’s face. Rafayel. It’s actually him. I am mesmerized at his beauty, and how the real life version of him can even exist. It’s otherworldly, incapable of being real. But it is. Taking in more of the view, he is wearing something I wouldn’t expect. A faded, cherry colored hoodie with pair of light black cargo pants. He raises a hand to his head to swipe a bang out his face. Silver rings are worn on his delicate, long fingers. Still in shock, I try to speak.

Me: “R-Rafayel?”

R: “Took you long enough. It’s freezing. Soon enough I’ll be frozen like the trees out here. Can you let me in?”

I scratch my head. Guess we are doing this. Hey, maybe I will wake up again in a mental hospital and this will all make sense. I open the door all the way to let him inside. He makes his way and immediately I feel arms wrapped around me. “What th-“ I squeeze out as he takes me in for a tight embrace. A hug? My face is now on fire. I inhale and smell an enticing mix of cologne that can only be described as an ocean-breeze. It is exactly how I imagined he would smell. “My love, my dearest girl,” he says with his chin laid on my head. “I have been waiting for the day we could touch.” I smile at his comment as my face is buried in his chest. I can’t believe this is happening. My heart is racing.

Me: “How were you able to come here? How is this possible?” I look up at him, searching for answers.

R: “I told you love, any wishes you had today would come true. You have my blessing, after all.” He smiles and moves a piece of hair out my face. “You’re so much more beautiful in real life.”

I look away out of shyness. I had never been around someone so gorgeous before, let alone a guy who was so into me.

R: “You don’t have to be afraid,” he gently cuffs my cheek and pulls my gaze back towards him.

He leans down and sets my heart ablaze. Soft lips caress mine and gentle pecks are placed onto me. The bashful kisses turn into a tongue asking for an invitation to dance with mine. His sturdy hands hold my face and support me. I am lost in his kisses, savoring every moment. Each one now slightly sloppy, his tongue exploring my mouth, tender, but eager to taste more. He bites my lower lip, not aggressively, but a gentle tug that leaves me a mess. The heat from my cheeks had made its way down to my core and suddenly I am completely aroused by this man. My body has decided it needs all of him. Anticipating his next move, I watch as he pulls away from me. He stays close to my lips and I feel his warm breath against my face. “Show me your bedroom, my love.” He whispers to me.

[leighsartworks216]

Damn Him

Father!Zayne x Mother!Reader

I NEVER write baby fics or anything with kids and shit EVER. So when I got this idea and felt something deep in my core about it, I simply had to get it out of my system. I'm sorry ;-;

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, angst (at the end), family fic, breasts, Dawnbreaker, swearing

Word Count: 1,275

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Crying broke through the still night air. They crackled slightly, muffled through the baby monitor on your bedside table. Nonetheless, you were awake.

The bed is already starting to shift when you're opening your eyes. You blindly reach out and grab onto the soft sleeve of Zayne's pajama shirt.

"I've got it..." you murmur. "She's prob��ly hungry."

He watches blearily as you slowly push yourself up into a sit. "Are you sure?"

You hum, nodding. You let go of him and pick up the monitor, waving it in the air with a playful, yet sleepy, grin. "It's on my side tonight, remember?" You turn down the volume, set it back down and get to your feet. "Go back to bed, lovey. I'll be back soon."

Zayne sighs, but he stays where he is as you pull a cardigan of his around your shoulders. He listens to the sounds of your shared home: the quiet shuffle of your slippers, the hiccuping cries of your daughter, the soothing lilt of your voice as you calm her down.

He glances at the digital clock beside him. It's only 2am; there's still plenty of time to get enough sleep for work tomorrow. As much as his body wants to fight the exhaustion and join you, he knows you'd scold him if he tried. He trusts you, anyway. There's nothing he can do right now to help.

So, he slips back under the blankets and turns onto his side. As the blankets fall into place, the rustling silences, and he tunes back into the lullaby you sing. It leads him down into the embrace of a peaceful slumber.

When next he wakes, he's disoriented. He blinks droopily at the emptiness of your side of the bed, then at the clock that reads 3:30am. There's no distinct sounds coming from the baby monitor. Down the hall is quiet. Why aren't you in bed?

He pushes the blankets off of himself and sits up, sliding on his slippers like it’s second nature. The cool air of the bedroom doesn't bother him as he crosses the room and out the door.

The door to the nursery is wide open. Blue moonlight pours though, spilling onto the floor and up the opposite wall. He squints slightly as he peeks inside. Any fears he could have vanish as he sees you.

You're sitting back in the armchair beside the window, head tilted back at an awkward angle and mouth open around quiet snores. Your shirt is pulled down to expose one of your breasts. Your daughter is using it as a pillow as your arms securely hold her, even as you are fast asleep.

Zayne drinks it all in. Your sleep-rumpled hair and dark eye bags, the shimmer of a drool trail along your chin, the uncomfortable way the collar of your shirt pulls against the underside of your breast. Your daughter, Jasmine, his beloved little flower, clinging with her tiny baby fists to his cardigan you stole, her chubby cheek resting against your skin and the other catching a stray moonbeam. He considers taking a photo of the moment, though he eventually decides against it. His two girls need to be put to bed and he doesn't wish to delay that any longer. Besides, if nothing else, this moment has been seared into his mind. That is enough for him.

He's as quiet as can be as he crosses the room to the chair. Carefully, he slowly pries Jasmine's hands from the cardigan. Her body is so small and warm in his hands as he lifts her into his arms. Oftentimes, he's overwhelmed with the desire to hold her forever, to feel her tiny little heartbeat alongside his own. Just like people save ultrasounds or ink-presses of their child's feet and hands, Zayne wonders if it would be strange to save an echocardiogram as a memento.

She doesn't stir as he lays her down in the crib. Her long, dark eyelashes curl over her round cheeks, picturesque. Her onesie is covered in little snowmen. He should make one for her with his Evol tomorrow. He can only imagine the bright-eyed stare she'd give him as he creates such cute things out of thin air.

Leaning down, he presses the lightest of kisses to her head, just barely starting to see hair growth. Now to take care of the other girl in his life.

Nimble fingers pull your shirt back over your breast, drawing the open sides of the cardigan together to keep you warm. He debates between waking you or not. And although he really should wake you, he ends up lifting you from the chair and into his arms. The moonlight caresses his back as he carries you down the hall, back to your bedroom. He tucks your feet in first as he lays you down before pulling the blankets up over you. Just as he did with Jasmine, he kisses your forehead, willing portions of his soul to transfer to you in hopes he can somehow get across how much he utterly and truly loves you.

He grabs the baby monitor before he rounds the bed back to his side. He turns the volume dial back up and sets it on his nightstand beside the clock. You'll get onto him about it being your turn to take care of the baby for the entire night, a system born out of his tendency to do everything himself due to his workaholic nature. He'll accept the scolding come daylight. You'll forgive him. You always do. Even if it's with an exaggerated sigh and a fond eye roll.

He lays on his side to face you, the love of his life. He couldn't dream of being anywhere but here, by your side, as he allows sleep to overcome him once again.

-

He wakes up.

Hollow.

He always feels hollow after dreams like that. And why shouldn't he feel the weight of what is missing in his life?

His bed is empty save for him. The room down the hall is full of random stuff he can't be bothered to worry about. It's a guest room; he's not having any guests over, so why bother?

The void within him cries to be filled. It opens like a yawning mouth, only an unfathomable depth waiting within, yearning for that life. The life that doctor has. A life he can never have.

Never will he be able to wake up to your face right beside him. Never will he be able to hold his daughter. Never will he be able to have that life with you.

It isn't fair. It's not-

He presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, biting back the shuddering breaths and the sting of tears. He’ll be forced to watch his daughter grow up through that doctor’s eyes. And it’s not even his. He has no rights to make a claim on her. He never will.

Relegated to watching you grow old through someone else’s eyes, instead of being there with you, to hold and help and love.

The sensor beeps nearby. He turns his head to look, blinking away the moisture in his eyes and meeting the breaking dawn that shines in through the window. A red dot blinks at him. It’s only a few blocks away.

He imagines for a brief second if the victim this time was you.

You, carrying a little baby in your arms, calling him a murderer. The idea of taking her life-

He closes his eyes and wills the thoughts away. Damn that doctor for having the life he can never have. Damn him.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip

[thatdesigirl17]

late night talking

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

warnings: smoking, out of character mattheo maybe, language, reader has family issues (slight)

just finished deadly class now that my finals are over and I'm absolutely obsessed with benjamin, so had to write for mattheo.

there will be a part 2 to this. requests are open. hope you like it.

Y/N hurried up the stairs of the astronomy tower. It had been a very stressful day with firstly her being late for class due to an assignment that she had completed after staying up almost the entire night. Still, she had forgotten it in her dorm which made her lose her marks as well as house points which led to her housemates getting annoyed with her. To top it off, she had just received a letter from her mother which made things worse. She had been requested to come home, to a place which didn’t feel like one. Ever since her father's death, the relationship between Y/N and her mother had been fractured. She felt like an outsider in her own family and preferred to stay at Hogwarts with her friends, who made her feel more at home. The request to go home and face whatever shit her mother was about to throw on her, annoyed her further. 

All she wanted was to have a temporary escape from the day and the answer for her was to smoke a joint and get high. Unluckily for her, the stash that she owned had just finished leaving her to make do with cigarettes. 

She reached the top of the astronomy tower, the cold air of the night welcoming her. She fished out her cigarette from the pocket of her jacket. She searched for the lighter in her pockets, she sighed, not being able to find it. She then searched for her wand, trying every pocket of her clothes. ‘Fucking hell! Just what I needed!’, she mumbled under her breath frustrated, she had forgotten her lighter and her wand in her dorm.

She turned around to the sound of footsteps shuffling. She walked to the other side of the tower and discovered a figure in the dark. With the help of the moonlight, she could make out his frame and the dark curls that graced his head. She noticed the smoke that surrounded him and decided to approach him for help, ‘Hey? Do you happen to have a lighter?’ 

The figure blew out smoke as he slowly turned to face her and reveal himself. Mattheo Riddle, a Slytherin in the same batch. Y/N was slightly taken aback, she had never really seen Riddle without any of his friends. He was always surrounded by people and his reputation preceded him.

‘Don’t you have your wand?’, he questioned as he reached into his pocket and handed out a lighter to her. ‘Forgot it in my dorm.’, she explained as she quickly took the lighter from his hand and lit up her cigarette. She sighed taking in a drag, her stress relieving slowly as she leaned against the railing, placing the lighter on the edge of the railing. 

‘Out so late in the night without a wand, how very careless of you.’, Mattheo remarked taking another drag. ‘Well I wasn’t exactly expecting to run into Mattheo Riddle in the middle of the night.’, she said, making Mattheo chuckle. Y/N was shocked, she had managed to make the cold, brooding Slytherin chuckle, and not in a mocking way. 

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Do you carry your wand around me? Cause I’m the Dark Lord’s son?’, he asked, in an almost teasing way. Y/N stiffened, she didn’t mean it like that, ‘No, I-, I didn’t mean it like that.’ 

‘It’s alright. I’m accustomed to it by now. It’s what everyone does.’, he said smirking. Y/N turned to face him. His soft features were highlighted in the moonlight, his eyes were red, and he was high from the joint he had been smoking. Y/N was caught off guard by the vulnerability and truth in his eyes, his voice laced with the slightest bit of hurt. 

‘I just meant you’re always surrounded by your friends. I don’t think I’ve hardly seen you alone.’, she explained, taking a drag. ‘Friends?’, he said, his tone showing the disgust he felt for the word, ‘That’s what you think they are?’ 

She nods slowly, ‘Aren’t they? You always hang around with them. You laugh and joke around with them.’ ‘Oh, love, if only. They’re just fulfilling their families’ wishes. They’re not friends, they are just people who are made to stay around me to gain certain, well, um…benefits for their families.’, he explains, leaning back on the railing as he looks at her. 

‘That must suck. Having people around only because they want something in return.’, she says, tossing her cigarette butt on the floor. ‘You get used to it.’, he says, shrugging, brushing it off. ‘What brings you out here to smoke in the middle of the night?’, he asks, changing the topic. ‘Had a bad day, got terrible news, wanted to not feel anything for a while but with my luck I had just run out of anything strong so here I am smoking a cigarette.’, she explains. ‘Here.’, Mattheo says as he hands out a joint to her. ‘Do you even know me? Or are you just that high?’, I chuckle. ‘I know we have a few classes together and it seems you don’t care for my reputation, that’s enough.’, he explains. I nod slowly as I take the joint and light it. I sit down on the floor of the tower, crossing my legs as I let the smoke out, looking up at the sky. I see Mattheo looking down and smirking at me. ‘What?’, I ask. ‘Nothing.’, he shrugs. 

I hum as I take another drag, feeling the drug taking its effect. ‘What’s it like?’, I ask, looking up at him. ‘What’s what like?’, he questions. ‘Being who you are.’, I say as I hand out the joint to him. He huffs, sitting down right across from me, our knees touching as he takes the joint from my hand and smokes. ‘Terrible.’, he answers. ‘Money, power and influence doesn’t cut it out, huh?’, she remarks, taking the joint from his hands. He scoffs and chuckles, another genuine chuckle. ‘You’re high. By tomorrow, you’re gonna regret talking to me like that.’, he smirks. ‘No, I won’t. I thought you’d have been asked this question thousands of times.’, she explains, as she tucks her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top of it, looking earnestly at the boy in front of her, who was the complete opposite of what she’d imagined him to be. 

‘No one’s ever talked to me like that. Maybe they’re scared, or maybe they just don’t care. Times like that I yearn for the normal things in life.’, he says, looking up at the sky. ‘God, why am I even telling you this? I’ve never talked to anyone like this before.’ 

‘How would I know? You’ve never even said so much as a hey to me before this.’, Y/N says jokingly, sitting up a bit straighter. ‘Huh.’, he huffs, smirking, in a teasing tone, he continues, ‘Well I guess it’s never too late. Hey Y/N.’

‘Hey Mattheo.’, she chuckles, rolling her eyes. 

They sit for a few moments in silence, comfortable in each other's presence. ‘Do you come here often?’, he asks. ‘Only when I need to clear my mind.’, she answers, ‘There are only a few places in this castle with peace and quiet.’ 

He hums in agreement, nodding slowly, ‘This feels nice.’ She smiles softly, ‘Hanging out with friends always does.’ 

‘Friends?’, he asks, his brows furrowed and his eyes widened. ‘Yeah, friends. I’m honoured to be your first real friend, Mattheo.’, she grins and for the first time, Y/N sees him smile. His brown eyes sparkle and he looks breathtaking. That’s when Y/N realises how truly beautiful Mattheo Riddle is. 

They sit together in silence again before he gets up, ‘I should go. I hope to see you around Y/N. Goodnight.’ 

‘Goodnight, Mattheo.’, she smiles up at him. Her eyes trail behind his retreating figure as she sighs. Her mind was processing and wondering how I was in the world did she just manage to befriend Mattheo Riddle? 

Maybe it’s just because he was high and alone. It was just a one-time coincidence. She thought as she sighed and got up, ready to leave. The shining metal on the railing caught her eye. She picked it up and caressed the initial M.R. engraved on the lighter. Maybe they were meant to meet again.

[starlight-sev]

December 3: A Treat (Snape x Reader)

(Part of @deepperplexity’s Rickmas 2024)

Every time I try to write for other characters Alan has played, I find myself coming back to Severus over and over. He’s just so complex.

Enjoy this sweet lil awkward date :)

Getting Severus Snape to go on a date with you was hard enough.

Getting Severus Snape to go on a date with you in public? Near impossible.

Sure, it was nice hanging out with him in his office after work, sipping wine together and complaining about the latest student shenanigans of the week. But you found yourself wanting more.

How you finally managed to convince him to physically go out with you was like pulling teeth: it had taken countless evenings in either your office, or his office, along with countless glasses of wine, before he had finally (and rather reluctantly) agreed.

Now that the winter holidays were in full swing, and most of the students had gone home for a few weeks, you suggested going into Hogsmeade for the afternoon. And of course even then, Severus tried his best to manoeuvre as far away from the public as possible.

The two of you sat side by side on a fallen tree, overlooking the Shrieking Shack in the distance. You two were familiar with each other’s company — comfortable enough to sit with your shoulders touching, but not quite at the point where you could reach out and hold his hand without a second thought.

“Do you have any favourite places at Hogsmeade?” You asked after a brief moment of silence passed between the two of you. Severus glanced over at you with a slight frown.

“No, I can’t say I do. I don’t often come here.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” He replied, burying his face a little further into his scarf. “Unless I’m on chaperone duty during a school trip.”

“Well,” you answered quietly, nudging his shoulder. Severus glanced at you quickly with a frown before softening when he realized your gesture was of a friendly nature. “Thanks for coming out here with me.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes dark and unreadable as usual. “Of course.”

Your heart raced a little as another silence passed between the two of you. Why was being with Severus so damn hard this time around? Usually when you two were together, the conversation was effortless. Things flowed nicely. This time… it seemed neither of you knew quite how to break the ice.

A gust of wind rattled the trees around you, and you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself. It was much too cold to be sitting out here the way you were, and you longed to be inside somewhere warm.

“What’s your favourite treat?” You found yourself blurting out suddenly. Severus looked at you as if you had just insulted him in another language.

“My… what?”

“Favourite treat. Do you have one?”

Severus blinked in surprise, lost for words for a moment.

“I don’t think I have one,” he admitted. He seemed to be tiptoeing around you, choosing his words carefully. “Do you?”

You nodded. “Hot chocolate… from Honeydukes specifically.”

Severus shook his head. “I’ve never tried it.”

“Are you serious? Let’s go, I’ll get you one.”

“That’s kind of you, but I don’t need one.”

“Well, I do.” You announced as you began walking. Anything to get out of the cold.

As you walked into Honeydukes, you were gently cocooned by a rush of warm sugary air, and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Severus stuck out like a sore thumb in the store, in his all-black attire. You noticed the way he hung back in the store, staying close to the wall as if not to be seen. He stayed rather still, but he kept glancing around at the small number of others browsing the shop. He seemed anxious.

Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you grabbed his hand gently and tugged him up to the front counter. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him visibly stiffen before slowly softening as he grew more familiar with your touch. His hands were surprisingly warm.

You ordered two hot chocolates, and just as you were about to pay, Severus stepped forward and silently took out a few Galleons from his pocket. He placed them on the counter quickly, beating you to the payment.

“Oh.” You murmured in faint surprise. “I was going to get it for you, you didn’t have to do that-”

“I insist.” Severus replied softly. His eyes were warm, and you caught the tiniest smile grace his lips for a split second. You nodded your head in gratitude.

“Thank you.”

Hot chocolates now warming your hands, the two of you walked in silence and sat together in a small clearing, just around the corner from the main street. Severus took a small sip of his hot chocolate, and you caught the tiny gasp of surprise he made as he took in the flavour.

“What do you think?” You grinned, watching his reaction. He scrutinized the cup, deep in thought, before nodding slowly as he turned to smile at you.

“I see why you like this so much.”

You laughed and took a sip for yourself. “See? I told you it was good.”

The air felt much less awkward between the two of you, and more like how it was when you’d visit each other’s offices at Hogwarts. Now that you were out of public view for the most part, Severus seemed to have visibly relaxed.

You glanced over at him and had to bite back a smile. He had the smallest bit of chocolate just above his lip. You pressed your lips together to keep from saying anything, but Severus caught your expression. He frowned curiously.

“What is it?”

“You've got, um…” you tried to tap your mouth quickly to signal to him, but he didn’t quite get the right spot.

Oh, to hell with it.

“Um no, it’s a little lower…” you reached up quickly and swiped it away with a gentle touch. Severus kept his gaze on you the entire time. Dozens of emotions seemed to flash in his eyes all at once. You found it hard to look away. He looked beautiful in the winter light.

You leaned forward and pressed the tiniest kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your lips didn’t quite touch his, and as a result it was more of a cheek kiss really, but your heart was still racing nonetheless. Severus blinked curiously, observing every tiny movement and expression you made.

And then, after setting his hot chocolate down without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours softly.

You inhaled sharply, every sense suddenly running on overdrive. You tensed at first, but then Severus rested his hand gently on your leg, and you found yourself relaxing immediately. Your kisses were slow. Deliberate. As if you were testing the waters together.

You broke away, breathing a little more intensely than before. Severus looked at you as if to ask if that was okay, and you knew right there that he had fully captured your heart.

“Could I kiss you again, perhaps?”

You had to giggle at his question. You nodded, setting down your hot chocolate on the bench beside you so you could properly face him now.

“I’d really like that.”

Severus smiled, genuinely. It was a sight you knew you’d love to get used to seeing. He leaned in, kissing you again with much less hesitancy than the first time.

You’d never be able to look at hot chocolate the same way again.