#‘i will not be great but i’m grateful to get through’ plays over and over in my head
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cunninghamchrissie · 15 days ago
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i just. i swear i’m just doing my best ok. life didn’t turn out how i wanted or expected, i’ve lived through such trauma and tragedy, life is still so hard today and i’m just trying to have nice days. that’s the ultimate goal for me, i think, after all i’ve been through. just peace and quiet.
i won’t have a dream career, i probably won’t find love ever again, i can’t afford to travel anywhere that i desperately want to visit… so in the face of knowing that i just want to have nice simple days
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skzdust · 7 months ago
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This Damn Rain
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THIS IS SMUT. MINORS DNI.
Summary: You and Felix are in bed on a rainy night and neither of you can manage to get to sleep... Felix has an idea how you can stay occupied.
Pairing: Felix x afab reader
Includes: fingering, "good girl", slightly dominant Felix, begging, penetrative sex, reader described with a vagina and breasts
Word Count: 1.1k
Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!! Thank you!!!
Masterlist
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“The thunder’s so loud tonight.” You mumbled, curling into Felix as you tried to sleep. The rain usually soothed both of you in the evenings, but it was loud tonight. Grating, for some reason.
“Yeah, it is.” He said, and you could head the thoughts in his voice.
“What are you thinking about?” You asked, slightly un-curling and looking up at him.
“I have an idea. It’s a game we can play.”
“What kind of game?” You sat up a bit.
“It’s called… ‘Make y/n moan loud enough that they can’t hear the rain anymore.’”
A thrill ran through you. “That sounds like a great game.”
“Yeah?” Felix gently ran a hand into your hair, and you inhaled sharply as his fingers twisted into it and yanked your head back. “Let’s see how far I have to go, hm?”
“I can be very—ngh!” Your eyes shut and your lips parted as Felix’s mouth found your pulse, gently nipping and sucking the skin. His hands began to roam the rest of your skin, finding their way under your shirt. His thumbs brushed your nipples, and you inhaled sharply.
“Feel good?” Felix’s voice was low and dripping with need, his breath hot and heavy on your neck. He knew what the answer would be.
“Yeah, Felix, s’ good.”
He moved to straddle you. Your eyes darted down between his legs, but the thunderstorm made the room dark enough that it was hard to see.
He pulled back the front of his hair in a swift motion, tying it into a half-bun and pausing for a moment to make sure there were no bumps before he leaned down, practically on all fours over you. “You want me to touch you, love?” His leg pushed between your thighs.
You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “Fuck.”
He laughed, a low noise. The noise of a predator, about to dive onto their prey. “You want me to fuck you?”
“I—well—” You stammered.
He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Spit it out, love.”
“Yes.” You whispered back.
“What was that?” He leaned back. “Can’t hear you.”
You knew what he wanted. “Yes, Felix.”
“Mm. Good girl.” His thigh pushed in harder. You almost involuntarily whimpered.
He laughed again. “You’ve gotta be a bit louder than that to drown out that rain.”
“I believe in your abilities.”
“Oh, so it’s on me?”
You nodded. “I believe that’s what you said.”
“I don’t think that’s what I said.” Felix smiled, letting his dominance slip for a moment, which you found quite endearing. “I think it’s your responsibility to be loud.”
“It’s your responsibility to give me something to be loud about.”
Felix’s smile drained off his face in a second as he tilted your chin up towards him. “Are you trying to give me an order?”
Another thrill ran through you. “No.”
“That’s what I thought.” His hand tangled in your hair again, and he gave you a long, searing kiss, as if branding your mouth as his. You breathed him in, breathed him out. He was everything, his hands everywhere, his mouth everywhere, his voice everywhere, murmuring worship and degradation equally.
“You’re so beautiful for me, love, you always look so beautiful when you want me.” Kiss. “You’re so needy, so desperate, you want me so bad and I’m gonna make you wait as long as I want, and you’re gonna wait, you’re gonna wait for me.” Kiss. “God, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, your body’s gonna remember the shape of my cock forever, isn’t it, love?” Another kiss. Thumbs brushing where your thighs met your core. “I want an answer.”
“I want it so bad.” You whimpered.
“That isn’t an answer.” His fingers moved even further, dipping between your folds, and just as quickly teasing your thighs again.
“It is, it’s gonna remember you forever, no cock is gonna ever match yours.” You breathed. “Please, Felix.”
He grinned. “I’ll give you my cock, love, but you need to be loud.”
You nodded quickly. “That will not be an issue.”
“I know.” He took off your sleep shorts and underwear, humming. “You made a mess, love. Someone’s turned on.”
“Yeah, I am.” You whispered.
“What did I say about being loud?” He didn’t look at your face, instead spreading you open and sliding a finger inside you.
You didn’t suppress your moan. “God, it’s so good.”
“It’s one finger, baby. Gonna need more than that to be ready for me.”
“Please, more.” You whined, moving a pillow down to prop your hips up to provide easier access.
“Alright, alright.” He jumped straight to three fingers, pulling another moan from you as he moved inside you.
“Fuck… fuck.” Your voice was thick, your head thrown back, but you looked up at Felix. He was smirking from between your legs, and his fingers pushed up into you as your eyes met. You moaned again, eyes fluttering shut.
“Ready for me?” He asked after a few minutes.
“So ready.”
Felix slipped off his boxers and threw them across the room. He stroked himself a few times, his head falling back.
Your tongue darted between your lips, wetting them as you looked at him. His almost-hard length, the way he was slightly biting his lip, the hair falling in front of his eyes that he shook off his face.
You could not have been any more turned on.
He lifted your hips with one hand and lined himself up with your entrance. “Ready, love?”
“Yes.”
With one swift motion of his hips, he pushed inside you, and you exhaled in pleasure. “Fuck, Felix, fuck me, please.”
“Your wish is my command.” He leaned on his forearms over you, mouth slightly open as he began to thrust in and out. One of his hands found a bit of your hair, gently petting and playing with it.
“Jesus Christ, that feels so good, you feel so good—”
“Yeah?” He panted. “You like it when I fill you up? Fuck you just the way I want?”
“Yes.” Your voice broke, and you moaned. “Yes, Felix, I love it.”
“Good. Gotta— gotta treat my baby well. Gotta fuck my baby well.”
You clenched around him, and he groaned. “You fuck me so well… please, please, don’t stop!”
“I have no plans to stop, love.” His hips snapped into you, and you moaned. “You feel so fucking good, you have no idea.”
“Gonna fuck me all night?”
“All night.” He paused for a second to press a long kiss to your lips. “All fucking night, or at least until this damn rain stops.”
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aventurineswife · 1 month ago
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Reader knitting baby gloves, hats or little baby vests without telling anything to them. And when they get suspicious that the reader wants a baby or something they learn that the reader's sister is going to give birth and all those are just a preparation for the new coming baby. Their reactions?
“Welcome, little one”
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You sat quietly by the window, the soft click of knitting needles filling the otherwise peaceful room. Every now and then, you’d glance at the pattern, the yarn slipping through your fingers effortlessly as you focused on the tiny baby gloves in your lap. Your mind was calm, focused on the task, though you couldn’t help but smile as you imagined the little hands that would soon wear these gloves.
Sunday walked in quietly, his eyes flickering to the delicate, almost ethereal gloves. “I’ve noticed these,” he said in his usual, composed voice, pausing a few steps away from you. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time on these… but why?” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving the tiny gloves.
You glanced up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s nothing. Just a little project.”
He raised an eyebrow, his wings shifting subtly behind him. “It doesn’t look like nothing. Is it for us? Or perhaps…” His eyes narrowed slightly, considering a possibility. "You wish for us to have a child?”
You shook your head with a soft chuckle, setting the gloves aside. "Oh no, it’s not for us. It's for my sister. She’s expecting a baby soon, and I wanted to help out.”
Sunday’s expression softened as he stepped closer, concern and curiosity mixing in his gaze. “Ah, your sister. I see now. A new life to protect, and you’re preparing for it with such dedication. I suppose this isn’t the first time you’ve knitted things for her?”
You nodded, feeling a wave of warmth from his understanding. “No, I’ve done this for her before.”
His serious expression was replaced with a small smile, his eyes almost glowing. "You’re always so considerate for your loved ones. It’s clear you will be a great aunt/uncle."
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Aventurine, as always, entered the room with an effortless confidence, his eyes immediately drawn to the delicate baby vest you were knitting. He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Is this your work? I must say, I didn’t expect you to take up something so… cozy.” He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes following the rhythmic movements of your hands.
You didn’t look up, but you offered a quiet hum in acknowledgment. “Hmm, it’s a hobby.”
“Mm,” he replied, stepping closer with that teasing smile of his, his hands resting in his pockets. “A hobby, you say? And is this hobby preparation for… a little one? You’ve been knitting baby clothes for quite some time now. Are you telling me something, sweetheart?”
You paused for a moment, looking up to meet his playful yet searching gaze. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, and a small smirk played on his lips as he waited for an answer.
“No, it’s not like that,” you replied, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “It’s for my sister. She’s expecting, and I’m helping her get ready for the baby.”
Aventurine’s expression shifted from playful to surprised, his smirk faltering for a moment. He raised an eyebrow, trying to process. “Your sister, huh? Well, that makes more sense. I had a feeling you weren’t planning on bringing a baby into the picture just yet…”
You smiled at his teasing, grateful for the lightheartedness he brought. “Not yet, no. But I’m sure my sister would appreciate the help.”
“Very considerate of you, as always,” he said with a softer tone, his eyes gleaming with admiration. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait for the next exciting news, then.” He winked at you, leaning in slightly. “But if you ever change your mind… I’ll be more than ready to play the role of doting uncle.”
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You were hunched over your work, carefully weaving the yarn to form a small, intricate baby hat. The rhythmic motion of your hands was calming, and the thought of the new life that would soon enter the world filled you with warmth. But as you pulled the final stitches together, you couldn’t help but notice Ratio standing nearby, his sharp gaze fixed on the tiny hat in your hands.
“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, startling you slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve been quite… diligent in your knitting lately. I must say, I didn’t take you for someone so invested in these… trivial pursuits.”
You chuckled softly, lifting your gaze to meet his slightly raised brow. “It’s not trivial. I’m making this for my sister. She’s about to have a baby.”
Ratio’s eyes flickered with interest, and though he didn’t show it, there was a shift in his expression. “A baby?” His tone was more thoughtful now. “Ah, I see. You are preparing for a new life. How fascinating.”
You nodded, your fingers still working the yarn. “Yes, she’s due soon. I’ve been helping her get ready.”
He stepped closer, a subtle curiosity in his voice as he observed the delicate details in your knitting. “I see. This is rather meticulous work. A fitting way to show affection. I had assumed you had other reasons for such actions… Perhaps even to prepare for something… personal?” He raised an eyebrow, a touch of skepticism creeping into his tone.
You laughed at his suspicion, shaking your head. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just for my sister. A little extra help from me.”
Ratio’s expression softened, a rare hint of genuine warmth in his gaze. “I see. I apologize for my assumptions. I suppose I misjudged the situation. You are indeed a person of thoughtful consideration.” He gave a small nod of respect. “May your sister’s child be blessed with wisdom and a strong mind.”
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Blade stood in the doorway, his red eyes sharp as he watched you knit a tiny baby vest. It was an odd sight, especially when considering the life he led, and for a moment, the cold edge of his gaze softened as his mind raced with possibilities. His quiet steps took him closer, his voice low as he finally spoke.
“You’ve been knitting a lot lately. That’s not like you,” he remarked, his tone just as sharp as usual, but with a hint of curiosity beneath the surface. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
You looked up, raising an eyebrow at his directness. “It’s nothing. Just a little project.”
Blade’s eyes flickered toward the baby vest in your hands, a faint frown forming on his lips. “This doesn’t look like something you’d do for yourself,” he commented, his voice uncharacteristically thoughtful. “Are you preparing for something… or someone?”
You paused, setting the vest down and meeting his gaze. “It’s not for me. It’s for my sister. She’s expecting a baby soon, and I’m helping her get ready.”
There was a brief moment of silence, and then Blade gave a quiet, almost imperceptible nod. “Ah. Your sister.” His expression softened ever so slightly, and for a moment, you could see a flicker of warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I see. I suppose that’s… good. For her.”
The words were simple, but the underlying sentiment was there—something rare for Blade. You smiled, knowing that despite his dark and fractured past, he was capable of caring in his own way.
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Dan Heng walked into the room quietly, his eyes briefly scanning the contents before landing on the small baby vest you were knitting. His expression remained neutral, but there was a glimmer of suspicion in his eyes as he looked at you. “You’ve been knitting a lot lately,” he commented, his voice calm but his gaze lingering on the tiny clothing you were making.
You looked up from your work, offering him a small smile. “It’s nothing, just a hobby.”
Dan Heng’s brow furrowed slightly. “It doesn’t look like nothing. Is this… for us?”
You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “No, it’s not for us. It’s for my sister. She’s expecting a baby soon, and I’m helping her prepare.”
Dan Heng blinked, surprised. “Ah, your sister. I see now.” His tone softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced at the delicate item in your hands. “I didn’t know you were expecting to become an aunt/uncle.”
You shrugged lightly, feeling the warmth of his unexpected reaction. “I’m not, but I’m happy to help.”
Dan Heng looked at you for a moment longer, as if weighing something in his mind, before his lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “That’s kind of you. I’m sure your sister will appreciate it.”
His words were quiet but sincere, and in that brief moment, you felt the bond between you deepen.
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fvsm4x · 2 months ago
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You and Gojo are happily dating until Gojo grows closer to your new friend. WC. 2k
a/n: I wrote this out of boredom so it‘s more of a drabble (ᵕ—ᴗ—) not proofread and short!!
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You and Gojo decide to spend a lazy Saturday afternoon together, starting with a visit to your favorite coffee shop. The place has a cozy, inviting atmosphere, with soft music playing in the background and the gentle hum of conversation creating a comforting buzz.
As you wait in line to place your order, you notice a familiar face at a nearby table. It’s Hana, the new friend you recently made at a local art class. She’s sitting alone, engrossed in a book, with a half-empty cup of coffee in front of her.
A smile spreads across your face as you wave to her. “Hana! Hey!”
Hana looks up, her eyes lighting up with recognition and delight. “Y/N! Hi!” she replies, closing her book and waving you over.
You glance at Gojo, who’s busy contemplating the menu. “Do you mind if we join my friend for a bit?” you ask him.
He looks up, smiling warmly. “Of course, lead the way.”
You approach Hana’s table, Gojo following close behind. “Hana, this is my boyfriend, satoru. Satoru, this is Hana. We met at that art class I told you about.”
Gojo extends his hand, his usual confident and charming demeanor on full display. “Nice to meet you, Hana.”
Hana shakes his hand, smiling brightly. “Nice to meet you too, satoru. Y/N has told me so much about you.”
Gojo raises an eyebrow, casting a playful glance your way. “All good things, I hope.”
You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Of course. Only the best.”
The three of you sit down together, and the conversation flows effortlessly. Hana and Gojo quickly find common ground, discussing everything from books to travel to the latest movies. You’re happy to see them getting along so well, and the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and engaging conversation.
At one point, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom. As you walk away, you can’t help but glance back and smile at the sight of Gojo and Hana chatting animatedly. You feel a sense of contentment knowing that your boyfriend and your friend are hitting it off.
When you return, Gojo and Hana are laughing about something you missed, their faces lit up with genuine enjoyment. “What did I miss?” you ask, slipping back into your seat.
Gojo grins at you. “Just telling Hana about that time we got lost on our road trip and ended up at that quirky little diner.”
Hana chuckles, shaking her head. “Sounds like quite an adventure. You two must have so much fun together.”
You nod, feeling a swell of affection for Gojo. “We do. He’s always full of surprises.”
As the afternoon turns into early evening, the three of you eventually decide to leave the coffee shop. Hana has other plans, so you part ways with promises to meet up again soon.
Walking back to your car, you feel Gojo’s arm drape around your shoulders. “Hana’s great,” he says, genuinely impressed. “I can see why you two get along so well.”
You smile up at him. “I’m glad you like her. It’s nice to have friends who get along with my boyfriend.”
He gives you a squeeze, his expression softening. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy.”
You lean into him, feeling a sense of contentment and security. Little did you know that this simple meeting would set off a chain of events that would eventually test the strength of your relationship. For now, you’re just grateful to have spent another wonderful day with the person you love.
The initial delight of Hana and Gojo's instant friendship has started to wear thin for you. What once seemed like an innocuous bond now feels like an ever-growing chasm between you and Gojo. You find yourself spending more evenings alone, as Gojo increasingly makes plans with Hana.
It’s another Friday night, and you’re sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly. Gojo had promised you a movie night, but he’s late. Again. You glance at the clock, feeling the familiar knot of disappointment in your stomach.
The door finally opens, and Gojo walks in, looking carefree and cheerful. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” he says, not meeting your eyes as he kicks off his shoes. “Hana wanted to check out this new café, and we lost track of time.”
You force a smile, trying to hide your frustration. “It’s okay. Did you have fun?”
He nods enthusiastically, sitting down next to you. “Yeah, it was great. You should come next time!”
You sigh inwardly, knowing that he’s said this before but never actually made it happen. “Sure,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation light. “What about our movie night?”
Gojo’s face falls slightly, as if he’d forgotten. “Oh, right. We can still watch something now if you want.”
You shake your head, the disappointment evident in your voice. “It’s late, Satoru. I’m actually kind of tired.”
He frowns, sensing the tension but not understanding its depth. “Okay, we’ll do it another night then.”
The weeks continue in a similar fashion. Gojo spends more and more time with Hana, and despite his attempts to include you, it never quite works out. You try to communicate your feelings, but every time you bring it up, he brushes it off, assuring you that you’re overthinking things.
Tonight, you’re determined to have a good time. You dress up, hoping to remind Gojo of what you share. The party is in full swing when you arrive, music blasting and people chatting animatedly. You stick close to Gojo at first, but soon he’s drawn away by Hana.
You watch them from across the room, your heart sinking as they laugh together, seemingly lost in their own world. You try to join the conversation, but they seem to share a connection that makes you feel like an outsider.
Eventually, you decide to give them space, hoping that mingling with other friends will lift your spirits. But as the night goes on, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling. Your eyes constantly drift back to Gojo and Hana.
Near midnight, you decide to find Gojo and suggest heading home. As you make your way through the crowded house, you freeze at the sight of them in the corner. Gojo leans in, his lips meeting Hana’s in a kiss that’s all too intimate.
Your heart shatters. The room seems to close in on you, and the noise fades into a dull roar. You feel a mix of anger, hurt, and betrayal as you watch the person you love with someone else.
Gathering your courage, you step forward. “Satoru!” you call out, your voice trembling.
He pulls back abruptly, his eyes widening in shock and guilt as he sees you. “Y/N, it’s not what it looks like,” he starts, but the hurt in your eyes stops him.
Hana looks horrified, realizing the gravity of what just happened. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” she says, but you can’t bear to hear it.
Tears stream down your face as you turn and push through the crowd, desperate to get away. Gojo follows you, calling your name, but you don’t stop until you’re outside, the cool night air hitting your face.
“Y/N, please,” Gojo pleads, catching up to you. “Let me explain.”
You spin around, the pain and anger boiling over. “Explain what, Satoru? That you kissed my friend? That you made me feel like I’m not enough?”
He looks stricken, his usually confident demeanor shattered. “I’ve been an idiot. I got too close to Hana and I let it get out of hand. But I love you, Y/N. You’re the one I want to be with.”
You shake your head, your voice breaking. “How can I believe that after everything? How am I supposed to trust you again?”
Gojo steps closer, his eyes filled with desperation. “I’ll do anything to make this right. I’ll cut ties with Hana if that’s what it takes. Just please, give me a chance to fix this.”
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You think that will fix what you’ve done?”
Gojo looks down, his voice trembling. “I... I’m sorry—”
“That won’t fix what you’ve done, Satoru.” You breathe out, your voice shaky with emotion. “You threw away our relationship like it was nothing.”
His heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of fear and regret. He reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away, the pain and anger in your eyes making him flinch. “Please, Y/N, it wasn’t like that. I never meant for any of this to happen. I got caught up, I made a terrible mistake. But I love you. You’re the one I want.”
You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have kissed her. You wouldn’t have neglected me for weeks. Do you have any idea how worthless you’ve made me feel?”
Gojo’s face crumples, genuine fear and regret in his eyes. “I know I messed up, but please, don’t give up on us. I’ll do anything, just tell me how to fix this.”
You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet night. “There’s nothing you can do to fix this, Satoru. The trust is gone. Every time I look at you, all I’ll see is you with her. How am I supposed to move past that?”
He steps back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ll prove to you that I can change. I’ll make it right, I swear.”
“Prove it?” you scoff, the hurt turning into anger. “You should have been proving it all along, not now when it’s too late. You didn’t care about us when you were spending all your time with her. Now you’re scared because you’re losing me.”
Gojo’s eyes widen, tears forming as he realizes the truth in your words. “I am scared. I’m terrified of losing you. Please, just give me a chance.”
You shake your head, the weight of his betrayal pressing down on you. “I can’t, Satoru. I can’t keep waiting for you to realize what you have until it’s gone.”
He falls silent, the reality of your words sinking in. He looks lost, broken, and you feel a pang of sympathy, but it’s overshadowed by the pain he’s caused.
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ifnotlovepersevering · 2 months ago
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Trapped (Agatha Harkness x Reader)
Summary: in an attempt to get revenge on Agatha, you end up walking right into her trap
Warnings: NSFW, blurry consent, magic play, pet names, light d/s dynamics, oral sex (both receiving), fingering (R receiving), mentions of spit play, face-sitting (A receiving), overstimulation, mentions of violence, lovers to enemies to lovers again?!, minors DNI
A/N: breaking my hiatus by pulling together this horny filth from god knows what part of my brain 🖤 enjoy!
NSFW Tag List: @academiagaymess @musicalmemesandstuff @shinkomiii @vintagegoddess12 @agnessharknes @jesterofrohan @agathaharknessslut @nickalpatel @junaika21
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As soon as you’d caught wind that the great Agatha Harkness had lost her powers, you were planning your route to Westview.
You’d been waiting ages for this opportunity - revenge for her betrayal. Agatha had drawn you in close before draining nearly every last bit of power from you, thankfully leaving just enough for you to survive. Though, that was likely an oversight rather than a show of mercy.
But you’d never forgotten. Over the years you slowly, painstakingly, built your powers back up to what they had been, and then even more. You were stewing, waiting for the chance to get the witch back for what she’d done.
Now you stood in her basement at the home she occupied in Westview, after transporting yourself inside. You crept up the stairs, staying as silent as possible. The dagger in your hand glistened as you eased through the door to the main floor.
You quietly stalked your way over to what seemed to be her office. But before you could step inside, Agatha’s voice rang out from behind you. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”
You spun around, seeing her standing in the living area. “Agatha,” you grinned.
The older witch eyed the dagger you clutched in your palm. “Hey doll,” she said nervously. “Whatcha got there?”
You began walking towards her as she stepped backwards. “Oh Aggs,” you smirked, using your old nickname for her. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”
“Let me guess,” she let out a shaky laugh. “Since I juiced you?”
You clenched your jaw. “You bitch. I trusted you. It took me ages to grow my power back to what it was.”
Agatha scoffed. “Oh please. You were pathetic. A baby. You hardly knew how to handle all of that, I did you a favour.”
That’s it. You lunged forward, tackling the other witch to the ground. You straddled her abdomen, her arms by her side, keeping her pinned down. Digging your elbow into her chest, you brought the dagger to her neck. “Last words?” You smirked.
“I missed this view.” Agatha’s blue eyes bore into yours as her expression morphed from fear into a smile.
Her smugness was grating, and you pushed the dagger into her skin to silence her. But it wasn’t working. The flesh that should’ve been tearing under the blade remained smooth and undisturbed, no crimson emerging.
What?
“Oh Y/N,” she grinned at you, not at all worried about the dagger pressed up against her throat. “You’re almost as naive as the day I met you.”
You felt your body suddenly freeze up. “What the hell?” You exclaimed, trying to move your limbs. Agatha began laughing as the distance between the two of you increased. You were floating now, immobilized, and she was standing up in front of you grinning.
“You’re kidding me.” You groaned. You couldn’t move anything below your neck, let alone try and get your magic flowing. Fuck.
“No, no I’m not.” Agatha circled you, unashamedly basking in the glee of having you trapped like this.
You closed your eyes, thinking of what idiotic decisions led you here. “You were supposed to be…”
“Powerless?” Agatha smirked, standing in front of you now. “Come on, Y/N. Are you hearing yourself? Agatha Harkness, powerless?”
You cursed yourself internally. This was stupid. You’d been stupid, and cocky, coming here with no preparation but a stupid dagger and your stupid vendetta.
“Aww,” Agatha pouted at your expression, taking your chin into her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye. “Don’t make that face, bunny.”
You felt a small spark inside of you at her using her favourite pet name. Agatha was leaning in close now, and heat rushed to your cheeks under her intense gaze and the proximity. Yes, you hated her for what she did. But she also knew exactly how to push your buttons. The older witch made you feel things beyond just hatred and try as you might, that was something you couldn’t ignore.
“You know how witches are,” Agatha spoke softly, her eyes drifting from your eyes to your mouth. “Start a rumour, it spreads. And somehow I knew that little Y/N would come running once she heard the news.”
Her arrogance irked you. “I’m not the same person you used to know.” You spat.
“Oh?” Agatha arched a brow, a wicked smile on her face. “I beg to differ.”
She stepped back and began circling you again. The familiar hum of her magic suddenly began caressing you again. You looked down at your hovering form and now saw purple swirls of her magic climbing up your legs.
“The Y/N I used to know,” Agatha was behind you now, her mouth by your ear sending shivers down your spine. “Would make the prettiest sounds for me.”
The end of her sentence was punctuated by a purple tendril slipping under your top and caressing your nipple. Another joined right after, on your other breast, pulses of magic squeezing both your nipples perfectly.
You couldn’t even try and stop the moan that escaped you.
“Just like that.” You could tell Agatha was smiling even though she was behind you, her voice clearly conveying her excitement.
You felt another rope of magic snake its way up your thigh and into the waistband of your pants. You cried out as it surround your clit and begin pulsing teasingly. You squirmed, the sensation sending tingles of pleasure through you.
Agatha settled herself into the armchair across from you and waved her hand in a quick motion. You gasped at the feeling of cold air on your now-bare skin. “Mm,” her voice was low, her eyes raking over your exposed form. “That’s better.”
You could feel how wet you were getting between your legs, her purple magic still pleasuring you. “You know,” you started, getting breathless now. “That I came here to kil- ah!”
Your sentence was interrupted by what you could only assume was another extension of her magic teasing your wet entrance before pushing in. Heat rushed through you as your walls stretched and adjusted to the feeling.
“Oh I know hon,” Agatha smirked from her chair, watching you turn into a mess before her. Her blue eyes were tracing your form and you could see that her cheeks were flushed. “But keeping you to play with again is a much better option.”
The tendril of magic inside you began pumping in and out, pulsing gently against your walls. “Fuck,” you groaned, the pleasure in you building at a rapid pace now. Your eyes were half-closed, jaw slack, as Agatha fucked you with her magic.
“Though if you’d like me to stop,” Agatha’s voice made you open your eyes. “I can do that too.”
Another flick of her hand and all the magic pulsing in and around you stopped, causing the pleasure building in you to fizzle. “No!” You whined. “Please, fuck, please, Aggs.”
It was humiliating. You had come here to kill her, and instead you were naked and at her mercy, begging for her to keep fucking you.
Agatha seemed thrilled to see your resolve break. “There she is,” she chuckled darkly. “My sweet bunny.”
You moaned, a mixture of relief and pleasure, when her magic began again. You were approaching your orgasm quickly, filthy moans and profanities spilling from your lips as you reached the edge. But before the waves of pleasure you were aching so badly for could crash over you, the magic stopped again.
You whined in protest, at the brink of tears, as Agatha stood up and came over to you. “Oh I know, baby.” She pouted.
To your surprise, Agatha lowered you down so that you were standing in front of her now. Your legs were unsteady and she gripped your hip, pressing you close to her. “I just couldn’t let you come without tasting you first.”
Any thoughts about what you’d originally came here for were far gone, and you hungrily brought your mouth to hers. Your hands now free, it was your turn to magic Agatha’s clothes off, making her gasp against your lips in surprise. You traced your hands up her figure and began pinching and teasing her nipples. Both of you moaned as your tongues explored each other’s mouths. You nipped at her lower lip, sucking it into your mouth, making her groan approvingly.
Agatha’s fingers buried themselves in your hair and she pulled, drawing your head back so she could move her mouth to your neck. Her fingers teased your nipples as you felt her teeth bite down, gently, but hard enough that you were sure she was leaving a trail of marks on your skin.
“Lie down,” she breathed against your skin. You complied, settling on the carpet as she made the fireplace roar to life.
Agatha wasted no time lowering herself between your legs. She held your gaze as she spread your folds with her fingers before bringing her mouth to your center. Despite the time apart, Agatha clearly remembered how to turn you into a shaking mess. She picked up a pattern of circling and flicking your clit with her tongue, and she quickly had you writhing on the floor. “Agatha,” you groaned.
She switched to sucking on your clit as she slipped a finger, then another into you. The lewd sounds of your wetness filled the room as Agatha pumped her fingers into you, curling them up inside before drawing them out. “Fuck, fuck!” You cried out, spurring her on. Agatha moaned as she sucked your clit into her mouth, hard, making you arch your back off the floor as you came.
She didn’t stop there. She withdrew her fingers but her tongue continued its ministrations on your overstimulated clit despite your squirming. Agatha kept her eyes on you as she doubled down on her pace, her arms wrapping around your thighs to stop you from squeezing them together.
Her efforts brought you to the edge again, your body shaking with the waves of pleasure coursing through you. Finally, Agatha came up from between your legs, her grinning mouth smeared with your juices. You revelled in the feeling of her bare skin against yours as she slid back up to you.
“I’d almost forgotten how good you taste.” She said, before bringing her mouth down to yours. You moaned at the taste, her lips moving against yours sloppily. Agatha pulled back slightly to let a trail of saliva fall onto your tongue before wrapping her lips around it and sucking, moaning as she did. Fuck.
You could already feel yourself aching for more but you needed to taste her first. “Sit on my face.” You breathed in between kisses to Agatha, who was more than happy to comply,
She giggled as you helped her maneuver herself over your face. Lowering herself onto you, both of you groaned as your tongue made contact with her folds. Her taste was intoxicating, and you began lapping up her juices before flicking her clit repeatedly with your tongue.
You watched Agatha as she moaned from above you. “That’s it baby.”
You continued with your ministrations, splitting your attention between her clit and her opening which continued leaking her juices into your mouth. Wanting to taste more, you plunged your tongue into her hole, swirling before withdrawing, then entering again.
“Yes,” she groaned, throwing her head back. “Fuck me with your tongue bunny, come on.”
You could feel her getting closer, her hips were beginning to buck more wildly. Stealing a page from her book, you used your magic to send vibrations to her nipples while you moved your tongue back to her clit.
“Oh fuck,” Agatha grunted, her legs clamping around your head nearly suffocating you as she gripped the armchair near her for support. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Y/N.” Rocking her hips against you, she cried out as first one, then another wave of pleasure tore through her.
Agatha dismounted, thighs trembling, before laying down next to you. You smiled at the older witch, panting with her eyes closed and forehead damp with sweat. Her mouth formed a lazy grin, “That was-”
Before she could finish her sentence, a loud bang could be heard from the basement, making both of you jump. You could hear clattering, as if something was fumbling around down there in the darkness.
Agatha laughed at the confused look on your face. “What, did you think you were the only one waiting to get revenge?”
You rolled your eyes, of course, as Agatha leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “None of them are you though, bunny.” She stood up quickly and waved her clothes back on.
“You’re not seriously going to-”
“I’ll just be a minute, doll.” Agatha smiled down at you. Her lips were swollen and her hair messy, but with her hands glowing purple, she looked every bit the formidable witch everyone knew her to be.
“Sit pretty,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the basement door. “We’re not done yet.”
You couldn’t help but laugh when you heard Agatha blast whatever poor creature had made its way into her basement.
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l4ndonorizz · 3 months ago
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q&a stream gets personal (chat edition) / lando norris x reader
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pairing: lando norris x reader
song: san holo - bring back the color
summary: a lighthearted Q&A stream between you and lando quickly turns serious when fan questions push you both to reveal long-hidden feelings, leading to a conversation that changes everything.
wc: 1.5k
The stream had been going for over thirty minutes now. You and Lando were sitting comfortably in front of the camera, bantering like you always did, making light of the fan questions. At first, everything felt easy—laughs, inside jokes, playful jabs—but you could feel the questions starting to shift, becoming more personal with every scroll through the chat.
Lando, as usual, was taking the lead. He leaned in, his eyes scanning the chat for the next question. “Alright, next one! This one’s for you,” he said, turning to you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “‘What’s the one thing that annoys you most about me?’”
You laughed, grateful for the harmless question, though your mind was still spinning from some of the bolder ones that had come up earlier. “That’s easy—how you can never decide what to eat when we hang out. You’re so indecisive.”
Lando gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest as if he’d been personally wounded. “It’s called being considerate! I don’t want to pick the wrong place and have you hate me for it.”
“Uh-huh,” you teased, the ease returning to your voice. “Or maybe you just can’t make a decision.”
The chat lit up with laughing emojis and comments like “classic Lando” and “indecision king!” The conversation felt light again—for a moment, anyway. But then, Lando scrolled again, and his eyes locked on a question that made your stomach flip.
“This one’s for me,” he read aloud, his voice quieter now. “‘What’s the sweetest thing she’s ever done for you?’”
Your heart skipped a beat. The question hung in the air, and you could tell Lando was thinking, actually thinking, about how to answer. The playful energy between you shifted slightly, making the room feel smaller, more intimate.
“Well…” Lando started, pausing to look at you for a moment before turning back to the camera. “There was this one time when I got sick after a race, and she brought me soup and stayed the whole night to take care of me. That was pretty sweet.”
Your cheeks flushed instantly. You hadn’t expected him to bring that up, and the chat was going wild—spamming heart emojis and teasing comments like “aww, they’re so cute!” and “best friends or something more?”
You waved dismissively, laughing it off. “I’m just a good friend. That’s what good friends do.”
Lando turned to you, his smile softening. “Yeah, the best.”
His words sent a flutter through your chest, but you laughed nervously, pushing it aside. The chat wasn’t helping either, with more comments pouring in, speculating about your relationship. You tried to keep your composure, but the tension was beginning to creep in, a subtle shift in the air that neither of you could ignore.
Lando scrolled down again, and this time, the question he read out loud made the temperature in the room rise by several degrees.
“Oh, here’s a good one,” he said, glancing at you with a grin. “‘Do you guys think you’d make a good couple?’”
Your heart stopped. The chat was immediately flooded with excited comments, but all you could hear was the pounding in your ears. You glanced at Lando, expecting him to laugh it off, but his expression was more serious than you expected. He didn’t look uncomfortable—just thoughtful.
“I think we would,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent that made your breath catch.
You turned to him, wide-eyed. “Wait, what?”
Lando shrugged, trying to play it cool, but you could see the nervousness creeping in behind his grin. “I mean, why not? We get along great, we always have fun, and…” He paused, glancing at you, his smile faltering just a bit. “I think we’d be good together.”
The chat erupted. Fans were spamming “I KNEW IT!” and “FINALLY!” along with a torrent of heart emojis and comments begging for more details. But you couldn’t focus on the screen. All you could focus on was Lando sitting next to you, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you.
Your heart pounded as you swallowed hard. “Are you… serious?”
Lando’s smile softened, and he shrugged again. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? I mean… we’ve always gotten along so well. I’ve thought about it before.”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and suddenly the lighthearted Q&A session felt too intimate, too real. You were aware of the camera recording, the thousands of people watching, and yet all of it seemed to fade into the background as the tension between you and Lando grew.
Before you could respond, Lando scrolled again, trying to move on from the tension, but the next question hit even harder.
“‘Have you ever had feelings for her?’” he read aloud, his voice now much quieter.
The chat was frozen, waiting for his response, and so were you. You didn’t dare breathe as you watched him process the question. For a moment, Lando looked like he might dodge it, make a joke out of it, but then he surprised you.
“Uh… yeah,” he admitted after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean… I’ve thought about it. More than once.”
Your heart leapt into your throat. The world felt like it had stopped spinning. Lando was still looking at the camera, but his gaze kept flickering toward you, gauging your reaction. The chat had exploded again, but you couldn’t process any of it. All you could think about was how you had just crossed a line, one that couldn’t be uncrossed.
You cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure. “I didn’t… I didn’t know you felt that way.”
Lando turned to you, his eyes full of something you hadn’t seen before—vulnerability. “Yeah… well, I didn’t really know how to bring it up. Until now, I guess.”
The chat was full of comments, pushing for more, but the two of you sat in an awkward, loaded silence. You felt your pulse racing, and for the first time since the stream started, you had no idea what to say. Everything felt too exposed, too vulnerable.
Lando, sensing the tension, tried to move things along. “Let’s, uh… let’s move on to the next one.”
He scrolled quickly, but the chat had taken on a life of its own, and the questions weren’t letting up. The next one made the tension nearly unbearable.
“‘Do you regret anything in your friendship?’” Lando read aloud, his voice quieter again.
You swallowed, the weight of the question pressing down on you. Lando turned to look at you, his expression serious now, no trace of the lighthearted banter that had carried you through the stream earlier.
“I…” you started, unsure of what to say. The chat was waiting, Lando was waiting, and you could feel the nerves bubbling up inside you. “I don’t regret our friendship; I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But…”
Lando’s eyebrows furrowed. “But what?”
You fidgeted with your hands, the tension between you almost suffocating. You could feel the words building in your throat, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to say them—not here, not now, in front of all these people.
“I guess I regret… not being more honest,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lando’s eyes softened as he looked at you, the vulnerability still lingering in his gaze. For the first time during the stream, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared. The chat, the cameras, the fans—it all faded away. All that mattered was the way Lando was looking at you, waiting.
“Honest about what?” he asked gently, his voice careful, as if he was afraid of pushing too far.
You hesitated, your heart racing. You knew the answer, and so did he. But saying it out loud felt like crossing a line that neither of you could come back from.
“I just…” you started, your voice shaking slightly. “I’ve never told you how much you mean to me.”
Lando blinked, clearly taken aback by your admission. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” you trailed off, glancing away as the tension became too much to bear. “I care about you. A lot. More than just… as a friend.”
The room felt like it had gone completely silent, except for the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Lando stared at you, processing what you’d just said, and for a moment, neither of you moved.
Finally, Lando let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I care about you too.”
The chat was exploding with heart emojis and comments, but none of that mattered anymore. The air between you was thick with the weight of everything you’d just revealed, and for the first time, it felt like you were both being completely honest with each other.
Lando gave you a small, nervous smile. “Well… I guess that’s one way to wrap up a Q&A stream.”
You laughed, though your heart was still racing. “Yeah… not what I expected.”
The chat was still buzzing, but all you could focus on was the way Lando was looking at you—as if everything had just changed between you, and maybe, for the better.
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bengals-barnesbabe · 4 months ago
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There’s Something You Should Know
Pair: Dad!Joe Burrow x OC , Dad!Joe Burrow x ExFianćee!Reader
Desc: Joe’s new girlfriend is in for a big surprise when she drops by unexpectedly.
TW: Jealousy, Toxic Gf, talks of divorce, childhood trauma
a/n: just a little idea I had and worked on for 2 weeks :)
Main Masterlist
WC: 4.9k
┊┊┊┊ ➶ 𓆉。˚ ✧
August weekends are some of Joe’s favorites, not because he goes out with friends or showers his girlfriend with the attention she desires. No, he loves days like this. Days where his living room doesn’t stay clean for more than a few hours, mornings filled with cute giggles and sticky-syrupy little fingers, and nights controlled by a little girl with beautiful hazel brown eyes and a head full of dark tight curls, who picks the same bedtime story every night. These are his favorite moments.
Like now as he picks up the pink and purple lego sets off his living room floor while his little girl is off playing with some other toys in her playroom. From down the hall, he can hear all the make-believe scenarios the stuffies are going through. Currently, Who Dey the tiger and Joey the kangaroo were shopping for skirts but there was only one pink sparkly one left, it was a heavy debacle that Joe couldn't help but chuckle at while putting away the rest of the legos. 
Elliana, or Ellie for short, is the no doubt most important person (albeit little person) in his life. From the day she was born, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his little girl. Now at 4 years old, the bubbly and charismatic girl is taking in some of his interests, hence the immense collection of Lego sets that decorate his home. Sure this hobby came back to bite him in the rear when he would fall to victim of said legos by stepping on them, but the time they spent together just playing around was worth all the lego injuries in the world. But they also have house slippers now, to protect both of their feet.
Joe moved to tidy up the kitchen after double checking that all legos were in their rightful spots, not that he was actually going to count every single lego. To prepare for his 4 day weekend with Ellie, he made sure to restock on all her favorite meals and snacks but also ingredients to make the Bengals-themed cookies that she hadn’t stop talking about since she saw them on a commercial for a grocery store they don’t even have in Ohio. Joe wasn’t much of a baker, he only began cooking real meals when Ellie started staying over for multiple nights. Give him a box of Kraft Mac N Cheese and some dino nuggets and he’d turn it gourmet for his daughter, but for now that’s as far as he could go. So he called in reinforcements for this mission.
*ding dong*
His saving grace, Ja’Marr Chase. Joe was forever grateful to have a best friend that loved and cared for his daughter like she was his own. Ja’Marr was a great uncle and Ellie thought so too.
“Daddy, daddy! It’s Uncle Marr, he’s here to make cookies!” He smiles as the squeaky voiced girl comes running down the hall. Before she passes the kitchen, he sneakily pulls her into his arms before she could notice him. “Daddy!”
“What did I say about running in the house? I know you’re excited but you might fall and hurt yourself and that would make daddy really sad.” He lightly scolds bending down to her height.
“I’m sorry daddy. No more running.” Ellie cutely nods and places her small hands on his cheeks to lift his faux frown.  A grin quickly returns to his face and he kisses her forehead. 
“That’s my good girl, how about you go wash your hands so you and Uncle Marr can get started?” Her face beams as she wraps her arms around his neck. He returns the hug almost as tightly to take in the warm sense of comfort that having her in his arms brings. His arms could probably wrap around the young girl twice, but the contentment of having her little ones squeezing onto him so tightly is a feelings he never wants to forget. When she finally lets go, she kisses his cheek then skips down the hall in her fluffy pink slippers.
The door bell ringing again brings Joe back to his full height, but his brows furrow when he doesn’t hear his friend do his usual call out. ‘He’s probably on the phone.’ He thinks walking over to front door. He opens the door wide with a smile to greet one of his best friends, but gets replaced with his eyes widening and mouth dropping in shock.
“Hi babe!” 
Joe blinks then narrows the door’s opening to only fit half his body. “What are you doing here?” He asks the woman he’s been seeing for 6 months.
“I thought we could spend some time together. I know you said you’d be busy this weekend, but you’re busy every weekend. But since you’re actually home, we could watch a movie or something.” She smiles trying to peak inside. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Joe can hear the faucet in the first floor bathroom turn off and another car pull into his driveway. He looks behind him and zeroes in on every detail in his house that screams ‘this is my little princess’ castle’ then turns back to his curious girlfriend. “Um, now’s not a great time Kate.”
The short brunette’s jaw clenches and just as she’s about to respond, Ja’Marr walks up behind her. “Wow- so what, Saturdays are for the boys?” She barks. Actually they’re for the girls, little girls.
“Kate-
Loud giggles erupt from behind him. “UNCLE MARR! Daddy he’s right there I see him!” 
His teammate breaks out in a smile and waves to Ellie. “Hey babygirl.” Ja’Marr excuses himself from behind the woman and Joe lets him in the house.
Kate stands in front of him now dumbfounded. “You have a daughter?”
When Joe met Katelyn, he hadn’t had a long term girlfriend in a while, not since you. So he didn’t have to introduce anyone to his daughter. His team already knew her, his friends were great with her and she had a mom and dad who would do anything for her. Joe didn’t even feel like dating after your engagement ended two years ago. He had some hookups here and there, but getting into a relationship was not on his mind. Funnily that’s how this ‘relationship’ started, she was just someone he could call and was cool about it. Then he took her out to dinner to test the waters and half a year later he’s here.
When you broke up, you and Joe agreed not introduce your daughter to anybody without the other’s consent. You both wanted to make sure that she was your priority and her safety always came first. Then Joe implemented the rule to not introduce Elliana to romantic interests until at least 9 months into the relationship, he said it was him being protective but it was also so he didn’t have to see you without anyone else until it was serious. You also didn’t broadcast your daughter to the world like other parents, so not many knew that he did have a daughter unless they watched his every move. 
So long story short, Katelyn did not know.
“We should talk.” He said as she shoved his body to the side and stomped into his home. “I guess I deserve that.” He shook his head and shut the door.
Thankfully, the kitchen and the living room were a decent distance from each other so when she plopped down on the farthest end of the sofa, he could relax knowing Ellie wouldn’t hear any distinct words the woman might start throwing his way. Kate sat facing the blank tv screen, he took the spot in front of her so he could still see some of the movements in the kitchen through a wall cut out.
“Listen Kate.”
“No me first.” She cuts him off with a hand in front of his face. He just nods and allows her to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is she actually yours? Where’s her mother? How come no one knows about her? Why didn’t you fucking tell me? I thought I was your girlfriend, do I mean nothing to you? Who keeps this kind of giant fucking secret? Fucking talk!” She huffs.
“I was letting you go off- whatever. Yes, Elliana is mine. She just looks exactly like her mother” He mumbles the last part, combing his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick he’s had since he was little.
“She’s 4 and I have dual custody over her, so I mostly get her during the weekends. I didn’t tell you because her mother and I have an arrangement and I would have to talk to her about it first. Her mom lives here- well not here here, she lives in the city. You know I don’t like the attention the spotlight gives so it was easy for us to decide to leave her out of it as much as possible. I guess was going to tell you at some point.”
“What do you mean, you guess? I’m your girlfriend! Don’t you think I have the right to know that the guy I’m seeing has a kid?” She crosses her arms red faced.
“Calm down, we haven’t been seeing each other that long. We were never that serious.” 
“Of course not, every time I want to spend time with you there’s a new excuse. Oh you have a game, or practice that evidently takes all fucking day. Maybe you’re hiding me because there’s someone else.”
“I promise the only other girl in my life right now is my daughter. And everything you just said is a valid excuse, I have a job and child that require all my attention.”
“Why can’t she just stay with her mother? Do you have this stupid arrangement so she can come by and give you what you’ve been missing? I bet you’ve been fucking her this whole time.”
Joe scoffs, her words starting to make his blood boil. “Katelyn, what do you not understand about us co-parenting our daughter? I barely have time to spend with you, so what makes you think I have time to cheat? If you have a problem with me being a father, then you should leave.”
“I don’t have a problem with you being a dad, I have a problem with you not talking about your ex. What, was she so special that it hurts to talk about her? Was she the one, Joe? What exactly is your relationship like with her now?”
“I told you, we co parent. There’s nothing going on with me and her mother, that’s all in the past. Can we stop talking about her now, she’s not going to just pop up out of nowhere?” He rolls his eyes. 
“I’m not convinced, you’d only hide her if there was still something between you.” 
“Yea her name is Elliana, the four year old making cookies in my kitchen right now.”
Before Katelyn can come back with another complaint, the doorbell rings, again. Joe sighs and looks out the window to see another very familiar car. Spoke too soon Joe.
He opens the door to see another one of his close teammates and the very woman he was just talking about. 
“Tee, Y/n what are you doing here?” His eyes lazily flicker between the pair and you send him a sheepish smile.
“Oh you know, we were just in the neighborhood.” Tee nods very nonchalantly. You nudge his side with a chuckle.
“I got a 911 call from Ellie, she said there was an emergency.” 
“Really?” He starts to pat down his pockets and realizes his phone is missing. He turns around and spots a smiling little girl with two long braids neatly done with purple bows in her hair. “Ellie…”
“Yes daddy.”
“Did you call mommy with my phone without telling me?” 
“Yep!”
You stop the laugh from bursting out your mouth when he sends you a pointed look. Taking that as a sign to go ‘confront’ your daughter. “Elliana why did you call me saying there was an emergency?
“There is an emergency momma! Uncle Jay is eating all the cookies!” Ja’Marr turns around shocked at his little partner. 
“Ellie, what did I tell you about snitches?”
“Snitches get stitches.” She relays matter factly. Joe shakes his head in confusion because clearly he wasn’t aware she knew about snitches yet. While you chuckle and run in to snatch up your girl.
“Ellie what did I tell you about taking advice from Uncle J?” You ask placing her on the counter.
“You said to tell you when he teaches me something new. He just did momma, see I told you!”
“Wow, Joe see what your friends have done to my sweet little girl.” She giggles wrapping her arms around your neck.
“They’re your friends too. How is it my fault, I had no idea?”
“There’s your answer.” You smirk. “Now Ms. Ellie Dae Burrow, is there any other emergency I need to know about?”
Freeing herself from your grasp she nods her head. “We don’t know how to ice cookies mommy.” Then takes your face in her hands and turns you towards the powdered sugar mess next to her baking buddy.
“Ellie, did you touch the cookies before touching mommy’s face?”
“Um yes?”
“Did you wash your hands after touching the cookies?” The young girl looks at her flour caked hands curiously. 
“No mommy.”
“Remember what I said about touching your toys with dirty hands?” Ellie nods her head. “Well that goes for people too, cause now I’m covered in flour.”
“Oh, sorry mommy. I’ll go wash my hands now.”
You go off to get washed up then Ellie returns to the kitchen to continue helping with the cookies while you join Joe in the living room.
“I hope you guys didn’t have anything planned, Ellie clearly has a mind of her own.” Joe jokes with the couple.
“Not much, we were just going to pick up some lunch and maybe catch a movie.” Tee shrugs.
“That’s what we were going to do, how funny.” Kate perks up with hidden mischief in her eyes. This is when you realize you have no clue where this woman came from nor who she is. 
“Joe?”
“Oh how rude of me. I’m Katelyn, Joe’s girlfriend and I assume you’re his baby mama.” She fake smiles holding her hand out.
The eyes of the men in the room widen at her bold choice of words. You smirk and shake the woman’s hand. “Yep, that’s me. The mother of his only child, you must know how great of a dad he is right? Whenever he has any time off, he’s always picking her up or coming over to see her. Truly father of the decade and she isn’t even 5 yet.”
Tee sits next the father hiding his face in his hands and chuckles. “I bet this isn’t how you wanted this to go.” He whispers to him. Joe just groans in his hands.
“Well, you should have a seat.” Kate invites.
“Oh I will, thank you for the hospitality in the house that my ex fiance asked me my opinion on over a year ago.” You grin and sit on the other side of Tee.
Katelyn’s kind demeanor shifts with a fake smile wide on her cheeks as she sits next to Joe. “So why’d you break up?”
“We are not starting here!” Joe’s eyes go wide and he straightens up. “Ask anything else please.”
“Joseph, your girlfriend wants to know why we’re not married right now. Why don’t you tell her?” You say forgetting how the whole thing happened for a bit. Thankfully those cherished memories come floating back to your mind and you hoped he decided to change the subject to cover your mishap.
“You just met, aren’t you supposed to be doing the making sure she’s safe for Ellie to be around thing?” You let out a muted sigh before replying.
“Oh please, and you haven’t?”
“No.” He mutters.
Your face hardens as you kiss your teth. “You let this woman around my daughter without screening her first? Joseph what the hell?”
He throws his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t think it was going to last this long, I wasn’t thinking about it.”
“Then why is she here?” You question turning your body completely towards him.
“Your guess is as good as mine!”
Katelyn scoffs, “excuse me, I’m sitting right here!”
“Unfortunately we see that too. How long have you been together anyway?” You hope that their explanation has to do with the restrictions you came up with to keep your daughter safe.
“7 mont-
“6 months- They say at the same time.
“Damn, this is awkward. I’m gonna go.” Tee announces. “I’ll text you.” Then he leaves.
“Looks like that didn’t last, maybe that’s why Joe left you. You attract drama everywhere you go.” Joe grimaces at her just wanting her to stop talking.
“Oh no hun, I left him. Not like it’s any of your damn business cause you don’t know me or him that well either. But let me guess, he told you he was busy but you showed up anyway hoping he’d let you in and give you whatever you want. I wouldn’t stress about him not making enough time for you, there’s a lot of worst ways he could be treating you. Just remember that at the end of the day, I’m that little girl’s mom and he’s her dad. I’ll always have a key in the door, when you won’t even get to see the open house.” Then you got up and went to the kitchen. Joe watched in amusement as Katelyn seethed. Then peaked behind him to catch a glimpse of you and your daughter baking together.
“You need to talk to her, she needs to know that I’m your future and she needs to make room.” Joe rolls his eyes.
“She’s right. They’re my past, present and my future. You were just a distraction and now I don’t need you anymore. I’m going to have to ask you need to leave my daughter’s house.” 
She shakes her head. “Joe, we can have our own family. You don’t need them. I can do that for you.”
“Katelyn I want them, not you. It’s time for you to go.” He stands and walks over to the door.
“You’re going to miss me and regret this, but I wont open the door for you. When you want me back I’ll have someone way better than you. Please don’t do this, don’t break up with me.” Rolling his eyes at the quick change in behavior he unlocks the door for her.
“Joey, I thought we were having fun. You don’t want to throw that away do you?” She asks as a final strand of hope glistens in her eyes.
Joe sighs, “it was fun, but I’d rather play with flower shop legos and bake cookies.”
“Fuck you Joe!” She stomps out with expletives shooting from her mouth. 
⍣ ೋ
“Daddy was your friend crying because you hurt her feelings?” Ellie asks with frosting covering her mouth when he arrives in the kitchen. He picks her up and kisses her sugary cheeks.
“No bub, she hurt her own feelings.” 
“Joey hurt my feelings when left to join the circus.” She pouts talking about her stuffie and licking her sticky fingers.
“Are you eating the icing before we can put it on the cookies?” He asks the orange dye covered girl.
“Nyooo.” She chuckles.
“What are we going to do with you?”
“Mommy said we’re all going to the park to feed the ducks.” She smiles. You turn around with wide eyes and an amused smirk, halting your current task of making more orange frosting.
“I did not say that. Ellie Dae why are you telling your father stories?”
“I think she wants to go feed the ducks.” Ja’Marr snorts while eating some of the cookie dough.
“Uncle Marrrr, you can’t eat more cookies! It’s for the ducks.”
“Ellie ducks don’t eat cookies.” Joe chuckles putting her on a part of the counter that’s not covered in sugar.
“Kaia said they do.” Your daughter yawns mentioning your next door neighbor’s teenage daughter that likes to babysit her.
“Well you’re going to have to ask Kaia where she found the cookies made for ducks.” Glancing over at the oven clock you hum realizing its 2pm. Naptime. Looking back over at your ex, you watch him wrap his arms around your daughter as her eyelids struggle to stay open. “Joe.” You whisper. He looks up at you then the time and nods.
“Come on babygirl, let’s go upstairs.” She whines as he lifts her, but still wraps her arms around his neck.
“But daddy, I’m not tired. Cookies.” She yawns laying her head on his chest. He smiles and kisses her head.
“I promise the cookies will be there when you wake up, and maybe we’ll even take some to the ducks.” You can’t help but smile as the pair climb the staircase up to her room. You always knew Joe would be a great father, especially when the you were surprised by the idea of having a baby so young and so early in your relationship. But he only stepped up in ways you couldn't have imagined, watching him become a father felt like one of life’s greatest privileges. It’s one of the things you love loved about him. Joe’s caring nature was unlike any other, in those 4 years together you’d never felt so loved and cherished by anyone like him.
Turning around to go back to your icing duties, you’re faced with a smirking Ja’Marr Chase. “What?”
“You’re ridiculous.” He chuckles setting a timer for the cookies that you now notice are in the oven. 
“I don’t understand.”
“You look at him the same way he looks at you, which is the exact same way when you were engaged. You just need to put the ring back on and plan the damn wedding at this point. I mean he broke up with his fling for you.”
You just shake your head at his nonsense, there was no way you and Joe would ever get back together after how it ended- after how you ended it. “No, I’m with Tee. They just had a mild disagreement, the second Ellie comes home with me he’ll be calling her back over.”
“You’re fucking with me right?” He scoffs. “You and Tee are not together.”
“How would you know?”
“He texted me the minute you got here. The only reason you two were out together was because we’re all still friends. Don’t try and bullshit me. You’ve been trying to make Joe jealous for weeks.”
“I have not, lower your voice. If you think he would ever take me back after the shit I said that night, then you’re delusional. I already fucked up with Joe.”
“But you want him to though.” He tilts his head with a soft smile. “I bet you still have the ring on you.” Your eyes go straight to the floor.
“You didn’t give it back because he wouldn’t take it. You can’t put it away because of who it reminds you of and you won’t sell it because you still care. In fact Ellie said you put it on a necklace and kept it in the smallest pocket of your purse.” When you look up, he’s somehow produced the same ring Joe proposed to you with on that beach date when Ellie was 8 months old.
“She really is a little blabber mouth.” You sniffle taking the chain.
“She’s smart and a thief. She showed it to me after you went to go clean your face. She knows how much it means to you and whether she understands it or not, she wants her mom and dad back together.”
“Oh please, this is the same little girl that wants to feed ducks sugar cookies.”
“All I’m saying is you should think about why you’re still carrying that nice ass ring around and talk to him. Alright I’m gonna head out, you got this right?” You nod and share a friendly hug.
“Remember what I said.” He says as the front door opens then shuts.
You lean over the counter with your hands on your face and let out a groan. There’s no possible way for Joe to ever take you back. You don’t even know why you still carry the ring around, but somehow leaving the house without it makes you feel untethered to reality.
“I doubt the cookies are that bad.” You gasp startled by the man leaning on the entryway to the kitchen.
“Goodness, Joe.” Your right hand covers your eyes while still clutching the gold chain. 
“Wow,” you drop your hand remembering what you were holding. “That’s something I haven’t seen in a while.”
“Yea- um. I was having it cleaned.” You bite the inside of your lip, then replace it with a pout when his face tells you he knows the full story. “Joe-
“Put it on.”
“Listen- wait what?”
You want to believe he’s joking, but the look in his eyes is all seriousness. “I want you to put the ring back on.”
“I can’t, not after the way I ended things. It wouldn’t be right.”
“You can, because I want you to. I need you to put the ring on.”
“Joe there’s something you should know.”
He sighs and takes the chain from you. “I know you and Tee hooked up once, I’m still debating on if I need to sucker punch him for it.” Then unclasps the chain and releases the 7 karat diamond into his hand. “I know that we spent the last 2 years trying to forget everything that went down between us only to remind each other every weekend when Ellie is dropped off.” He begins to fiddle with the ring between his fingers. “I also know that nothing you said that night was true.”
You gulp locking eyes with the man you’ve always wanted to call your husband. “Joe.”
“On April 10th, your mom called you and said ‘never get married’ because she had finalized her divorce with your father after spending 25 years in an unhappy marriage, that without a doubt gave you enough trauma in itself. April 11th, I came home from a night out where I drank way too much and reminded you of a part of your childhood you tried to run away from, which is something I’m extremely sorry for. April 12th, we spent the entire day arguing about the dumbest shit because I couldn’t see the pain you were harboring. Then you said ‘I can’t spend the rest of my life with a man that doesn’t care how he comes home to his family. I won’t let you run me into the mud like he did to her, I want to be happy. I can’t marry you.’ And took your ring off.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face as he recalls the last night you spent together as a couple. A night you’ve regretted since it happened.
“Joey, don’t let me do this to you. You don’t deserve this, you could do so much better better than a damaged bitch with trust issues.” With one hand he wipes your tears and with the other he takes your left hand. “Joe think about this.”
“I think there’s something you should know.” He repeats your words with a more lighthearted tone, then gets down on one knee. 
‘There’s no way, no way. Nope, he’s not doing this.’ You echo to yourself while shaking your head.
“I spent two years thinking about this. Two years driving back and forth so we could have equal time with our little girl. Two years of wondering if I’d ever have you back in my arms the way I dream of at night. Even spent one in this house thinking about how hollow it feels without you living in it. I bought it for you, so we could raise our family here together. I know this probably won’t top the first one and I don’t have a new ring yet.” He winks causing another wave of tears to fall, this time happy tears. 
“I can’t see myself happier with anyone except this damaged woman in front of me with trust issues. Shit I’m not that happy now, cause every time I look in our little girl’s eyes all I see is her beautiful mother. She’s a constant reminder of the woman I miss more than anything. I thought we could do this co-parenting thing and stay friends so Ellie could have a happy childhood, but I spend more time with you than I do without you. I don’t want to wake up with anyone else in my bed that isn’t the woman right in front of me. And I’m thanking Elliana for bringing you here, because I need you. I want you back more than anything in the world.” 
His voice starts to tremble. “I’d step on a million legos for you, bake and burn a thousand dinners for you, miss hundreds of games for you- fucking anything. Anything you want, it’s yours. Just say yes.” 
You can feel the way your heart breaks for him, just proving how much you don’t deserve him. “I can’t.” 
“Why not?”
You can’t look him in the eye and break him again. You try to suck in the sob but there’s no use.
“I’m pregnant with Tee’s baby.”
.
.
.
SIKE
.
.
.
i'm sorry that was childish, don’t hate me lol here’s the real ending
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ꕥ
“I can’t,” You giggle when his pout deepens. “You haven’t asked the question yet.”
A bright smile breaks out on his face as he sighs in relief. “You need to stop scaring me. Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes I’ll marry you, Joey. I'll marry you a hundred times if I have to.” You beam as he slips the ring back in its rightful spot then stands and pulls you into the most passionate kiss. 
After two years, you’re back in the arms you love, felt the most comfortable and cherished in. You feel so lucky to have found a man, a fiance so caring, thoughtful, and understanding. Lucky that every time you pushed him away, he just pulled you in harder. And you can’t wait to finally marry him and give him everything he’s ever wanted. Including a bigger family.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
so any critiques, comments, concerns. i'm open to any and everything🫶🏾 oh and don't forget to reblog for more :)
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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 11 months ago
Text
When in L.A
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Summary: while on a walk with your boyfriend, the both of you experience a horrible interaction with one of Jacob’s supposed fans.
Warnings: r is referred to being Australian but ofc you can change it :)
Wc: 574
A/n: decided to post a fic before i officially start school again tomorrow 🥹
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enews
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Liked by jacobelordiupdates, elordifan, and 3,098,261 others
Jacob spotted with his girlfriend y/n out in LA today!! The Aussie couple were playing around with their dogs while Jacob took a few photos of her :)
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user1: oh to be her 😫
user2: she’s so so pretty and seems so sweet ahh
user3: I wonder how they met lol
↘️ user4: pretty sure they knew each other since they were at school in Australia 😂
user5: did not know she was Australian? Omg what?
user6: when is it my turn 🥲
user7: thought he’d be dating someone famous but oop
↘️ user8: didn’t know celebrities had to only date other celebrities?
~
You and Jacob amble through the streets of Hollywood hills, the chill energy of the neighbourhood surrounding you as you take your dogs Layla and Freddie for a walk.
You’ve been friends since high school back in Australia and only started dating around 2 years ago when you visited LA and caught up with Jacob. And it was only a couple months ago you moved across the world to be with your boyfriend.
You weren’t foreign to the recognition Jacob garners, fans occasionally approach for a quick chat or photo, and for the most part, it’s a positive experience for the both of you.
A young woman, probably in her early 20s, spots Jacob from afar, her eyes widening with recognition. She hurries over, her excitement palpable. The two of you stop as he comes up, “Hi Jacob!” She excitedly greets, her phone ready for a selfie.
Jacob flashes his signature smile, “Hey, how’s it going?” The fan smiles widely, her full attention on your boyfriend as you stand to the side, “Great! Can I take a photo with you please?” She asks, “Yeah, sure.”
The fan, seemingly disregarding your presence, abruptly hands you her phone. “Take the photo for me,” she demands, her tone leaving no room for refusal. Caught off guard by her directness, you manage a surprised “Uh, sure.”
Even you could tell Jacob was caught off guard by her rude behaviour, his eyebrows slightly knitted. You reluctantly take the phone and frame the photo as the woman poses with Jacob, her hand around his waist as he respectfully hovers his hand on her back.
She glances at you with a dismissive look, as if you’re merely an accessory to the moment. “Make sure it’s good,” she commands, refocusing on Jacob as he visibly becomes agitated.
Despite the awkwardness, you snap the photo with a forced smile. The fan snatches her phone without a word of thanks and strides away, disappearing from view.
Jacob, sensing your discomfort, lets out a sigh. “She seemed nice” His voice laced with sarcasm as you chuckle. “They’re not usually like that, trust me.” He remarks, irritation evident in his voice.
Jacob puts a reassuring arm around your shoulders, “Don’t let it get to you. I didn’t even really smile in the photo,” He says with a cheeky grin as you couldn’t help but laugh.
~
Later that day, Jacob takes to his instagram page that he mostly posted work related things, and shared a photo of the two of you with your dogs, along with a thoughtful caption.
jacobelordi
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Liked by yourusername, alexademie, sadiesoverall, jacobelordiupdates, and 8,038,297 others
Hey everyone! I don’t usually post things like this but it needs to be said. I love meeting you all in public, and I’m always grateful for your support. However, let’s remember to be respectful to everyone, including the people I’m with. Shoving phones in someone’s hand, demanding for them to take a photo and being rude isn’t cool. Let’s keep it a positive experience. Much love to you all!! ❤️
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yourusername: 🐶💗
↘️ jacobelordi: love you!
↘️ user1: awe 😭
rachelzegler: so glad you’re bringing this up!!
alexademie: PREACH 🙌
user2: I seriously don’t understand people who call themselves “fans” and do disrespectful shit like this
user3: Is this about the incident that happened today??
↘️ user4: yup. It’s all over Twitter and tiktok rn
↘️ user5: the “fan” is getting slandered so hard rn
user6: wait I’m so confused. What happened?
↘️ user7: basically a “fan” came up to Jacob and Y/n and demanded y/n to take the photo for them and she was just overall rude
user8: so funny how Jacob isn’t even smiling in the photo 😭
↘️ user9: HAHAHAHHA I WANNA SEE THIS PIC
↘️ user10: it’s on TikTok!!
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woso-story · 23 days ago
Text
A Shoulder To Lean On
Alexia Putellas x Reader
Alexia Putellas stood in the empty locker room, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights her only company. The echo of her coach’s words still lingered in her mind. “You won’t be making the squad for the game this weekend, Alexia.”
She had expected it. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t ready. Her knee still felt like a ticking time bomb. It wasn’t just the physical pain anymore; it was the mental battle. Every time she planted her foot, her mind flashed back to the moment of injury, the sharp sting, the helplessness. She had worked her entire life for this—everything had been for this moment. But now, standing here, she couldn’t shake the feeling of doubt. The pressure was suffocating.
It wasn’t just about the injury. It was everything. Two Ballon D’Ors, countless trophies with Barcelona, but it never felt like enough. People expected more. She was expected to be the same Alexia she had always been: the unstoppable force, the leader. But in this moment, she was just a woman with a broken knee and a heart full of worry.
Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. "You’re meant for greatness, Alexia." But her father had never seen her play for Barcelona’s first team. He passed away just two months before her dream came true.
“Everything for him,” she whispered under her breath as she slowly gathered her things.
It wasn’t the game that bothered her, or the squad decision, it was the thought that she might not be able to get back to the level she had once been. That she might not be able to play again. The thought gnawed at her, every day, every moment.
But then there was you.
You, the one person who had been there through it all. The quiet strength beside her, the calm amid the storm. You had been together for over two years, and you weren't involved in football at all. It was a relief. After hours on the pitch, in front of cameras, after facing the demands of the Spanish Football Federation, you were a reminder of something normal, something simple.
Alexia walked into your shared apartment, the familiar scent of lavender filling the air. She saw you sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in hand, a soft smile tugging at your lips when you saw her.
“How was training?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. You could see it in Alexia’s eyes.
Alexia sighed, dropping her bag by the door. “I didn’t make the squad for this weekend’s game.”
You set the cup aside and patted the space beside you on the couch. “I’m sorry. But you’re doing the right thing, Lex. You know that, right?”
Alexia nodded, though the weight of it all was heavy on her chest. She wanted to argue, to say that she was ready, that she could fight through it. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t true. The knee was still fragile, and her mind... her mind was even more fragile.
Without a word, Alexia collapsed into your side, burying her face in your shoulder. And then, something happened that Alexia never expected. She felt the tears start to fall.
The floodgates opened, and all the emotions she had been suppressing poured out. She cried about the pressure, the expectations, the constant feeling that she had to be perfect. She cried about her knee, about the fear that she might never be the player she once was. She cried about her father, about how she had worked so hard to make him proud, only to have him taken from her before he could see her dreams come true.
"I don’t know if I can do it anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “What if I’m not good enough anymore? What if my knee can’t take it? What if I’m letting everyone down?”
You held her, your arms wrapping around her tightly, offering comfort without words. You let her cry, let her release the weight of the world that had been pressing down on her for so long.
“Lex,” you said softly, once the tears had slowed. “You’re not alone. I’m here. We’re in this together.”
Alexia sniffled, grateful for your unwavering support. “But I’ve worked my whole life for this. I can’t just... give up.”
“You don’t have to give up,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “You just need to give yourself time. Your knee will heal when it heals. You can’t rush it. And you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s enough.”
Alexia took a deep breath, feeling a little lighter, though the doubts still lingered. You always knew how to calm the storm inside her. You didn’t try to fix everything or offer empty reassurances. You just were there for her—a constant, steady presence, reminding her that it was okay to take a step back.
You stood, reaching out a hand to Alexia. “Come on, let’s go to bed. You need to rest.”
Alexia allowed herself to be led to the bedroom, her body heavy with exhaustion. She lay down on the bed, curling up under the soft blankets. A few minutes later, you returned with a steaming cup of tea and a small sandwich.
“You need to eat,” you said, setting the tray down next to her. “You can’t keep skipping meals.”
Alexia managed a small smile, grateful for the care that you always showed. She took a bite of the sandwich, sipping the tea slowly, feeling the warmth seep into her body.
After she finished, you crawled into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her. Alexia nestled her head into your chest, the rhythmic beat of your heart soothing her racing mind.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Alexia murmured, her voice muffled by your shirt.
“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied softly, your fingers threading through Alexia’s hair. “I’m always here. Always.”
Alexia’s eyes fluttered shut, the weight of the day still pressing on her, but the comfort of your embrace made it bearable.
As she drifted off to sleep, you kissed the top of her head. “You’re not alone, Lex. We're in this together. And I’ll be right here, no matter what.”
And for the first time in weeks, Alexia allowed herself to believe that things would be okay. She wasn’t alone in this fight.
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girlokwhatever · 7 months ago
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i have an emily idea cooking … ok so they played together at louisville (maybe reader is a year or two younger than em) and dated. they broke up and emily left for the wnba. reader transferred to uconn bc louisville reminded her too much of emily. two years later reader is drafted and ends up on the mystics with emily 🙈
(guys i’m switching up the draft picks a little bit to fit the plot ok i know washington wasn’t second pick)
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𖤓✎⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚ end of beginning,,
part two
emily engstler x fem!ex!reader
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“i am happy for you emily, truly i am.”
“then why are you breaking up with me? you don’t know that long distance won’t work.”
tears stream down both of your faces, a consequence of your decision to end things with emily. she committed to the draft that was only days away and was projected to rank very high. she was leaving louisville, which meant she was leaving you and the life you built together.
you weren’t mad at her at all. you really were happy for her and her accomplishments. it was going to break you to watch her leave and not come back, which is why you made the decision you did. selfishly, you needed to focus on your career. you needed to let her go so that the two of you could grow on your own.
“emily..”
“please don’t do this. we can try. i’ll try. please.”
you meant the world to emily, encouraged her to do great things and be a better person. she felt as if she owed the entire past year to you and your motivation that kept her going even through the darkest moments. you’d been a great comfort to her. there would be late nights when nothing else mattered but the feeling of you in her arms. she’d do anything for you.
she’d do anything for you.
“i can’t,”
your voice is barely above a whisper. you’re trying to hold back the sob threatening to spill over. sometimes the best choices were the hardest ones to make.
emily drags her hands down her face and peers over at you. you’re not looking at her anymore, head turned and eyes squeezed shut. she reaches out for you and cups her hand around the side of your face. when you lean into her touch she feels sick, finally letting the reality of having to let you go sink in.
“it’s okay. i get it, i know. i love you.”
she kisses your forehead as she stands, letting her hand drop back down to her side. you relish in the feeling before it’s gone because you know this will probably be the last time you feel it. that same feeling that still gives you butterflies.
“i love you too, em.”
that was two years ago.
you went to watch her get drafted, eyes teary and gleaming as you followed her figure walking to the stage after getting picked forth overall. you cheered and cried for her as if nothing had changed.
a few days after that you entered the transfer portal. everything reminded you too much of her. her name was still plastered on the cubby next to yours in the locker room, her scent still lingered in your sheets, her spot on the couch was left untouched, her absence in the home court was noted heavily.
you ended up signing with uconn. the last two years of your collegiate career were spent there, growing and expanding as not only a player but a person. the friends you made were phenomenal and helped you grieve with the ones you lost.
due to the extra work you were putting into your dream, you grew exponentially in popularity on social media along with your fellow teammate paige bueckers. you were close to everyone on the team, especially her. it led to people shipping the two of you much to your surprise.
you hadn’t dated anyone since emily.
but now it was your turn to be drafted. you committed to the draft alongside your two teammates nika and aaliyah. life was good. after two years of struggling and trying to find yourself, things were finally falling into place.
you’d gotten second overall pick in the first round. the washington mystics selected you and you were beyond grateful for the opportunity. you turned to give your coach a hug, noticing paige and azzi recording in the back with wide smiles on their faces.
it felt like a fever dream honestly. the rest of the night flew by, interviews and interactions seemingly only lasting seconds before you were pulled off to the next person. through the haze, you forgot what would be waiting for you once you arrived in washington.
or who.
emily watched the draft, nervous with anticipation to see where you’d end up. when she heard your name and washington mystics in the same sentence, her heart started pounding in her chest.
she never got over you. it made starting the league hard for her considering she lost her main pillar of love and support. her year with the indiana fever was full of intense moments and anger, always feeling like she wasn’t giving enough and kept having to prove herself.
the next year was even harder. she suffered a rough shoulder injury, leading to countless days of physical therapy and doctor visits. all without you.
to know that she’d see you again in only a short number of days was terrifying. you’d both be in training camp together which lasted weeks, spending day after day seeing each other. though it made her anxious, emily was also excited. she would get to see you again in all your glory, hopefully being able to smile and laugh together like you used to.
emily walked into the mystics gym, setting her bag down and standing to observe the room. there were a few people there already, you being one of them. her eyes immediately found you and your figure, so recognizable to emily.
you seemed to have this glowing aura around you. a smile was plastered on your face as you talked to ariel. you dribbled a basketball between your hands effortlessly, adjusting to the weight and getting used to your new surroundings. your eyes also wandered after you broke away from ariel, finding emily across the room.
you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss her. two years without her was a major struggle for you. sometimes, late at night, you wondered what it would’ve been like if you had never broken up with her. there were countless times when you regretted your choice. you never considered the fact that you could possibly be teammates again one day. certainly not so soon.
you wandered onto the court, leaving all your aimless thoughts behind. the rest of the trainees gathered with you and started a simple drill where you and a partner would take turns shooting and guarding one another.
by second nature you and emily found each other, shyly muttering a quick, “do you wanna be my partner?”
“yeah, i’d love to.” her heart was pounding at your words, imagining that maybe, just maybe, you missed her too. she smiled at your shyness, finding it ironic how your relationship had devolved.
emily was considerably taller than you, so shooting over her was not easy feat. at some moments you felt like she was letting you drain shots purposefully, even if she swore she wasn’t. you were even able to block a few of her shots, mostly when she kept her feet planted though.
after awhile and a few rotations, the coach offered a different drill. he split the group in two and let you scrimmage, you and emily somehow ending up on the same team.
it was giving you deja vu. anytime you’d get the ball emily was there either setting a screen or opening a path for you. it felt like she never left, like you never split, like you two were still the dynamic duo you were known to be at one point. like she was still your emily.
being here with her made you feel like your old self. the you from louisville, playing with the emily from louisville. in a time where you were both still in love and happy. another version of yourself was here, the best version of yourself.
after hours of sweating and nearly collapsing from being breathless, the day’s training was coming to an end. you drained one more three point shot, finally feeling satisfied with your performance. everyone cheered for you playfully as you collected your bag, quickly heading back to your car. you made it all the way to the parking lot before hearing a voice.
“you did really good today.”
you turned to see emily standing behind you, slightly disheveled and out of breath. she was smiling softly at you the same way she used to. it still made you flutter to this day, especially when you remember all the memories the two of you share.
“thank you, you too! your defense is still so good.”
“thank you,”
you both stood there in silence, not quite ready to break away. being around her offered you some sense of comfort in such an unfamiliar place.
“how’s paige?”
“paige? i mean, she’s good.”
“are you two, like.. together?”
“what- no. we’re just friends.”
emily nods, satisfied at the information. she’s slightly embarrassed for even asking, but she had to know. she had to know if you moved on with someone else.
“so then, is it okay if i take you out to dinner?”
“like, right now?”
“just tonight. you can shower and stuff of course.”
you don’t even have to think about your answer. you’d been wanting a moment like this for over a year. you missed her so much, too much. it was starting to affect you mentally. you’d wonder about her too often, having to fight some of the strongest urges to reach out to her and ask how she was doing.
“yeah, yeah. i’d really like that.”
she’s smiling, allowing it to reach her eyes as she waves you off. she felt like she was home again, even though she was still thousands of miles away. you were here, and that’s all she needed. any moment with you felt so right.
she took the time apart from you to grow as her own person, but now she was ready to grow again with you.
hopefully, you’d be ready too.
𖤓✎⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚
guys hopefully the song makes sense for this fic
should i make a part two idk?!!?!
also i will spell check this tomorrow.
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kingofbodyrolls · 20 days ago
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Doughn’t Go Baking My Heart (m) | ksj
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This Christmas season, you’re back in the kitchen, whisk in hand and determination in your heart, entering the annual holiday baking competition once again. The goal? Finally beat your long-time rival, the infuriatingly talented Kim Seokjin. But as the ovens warm and the ingredients come together, you realize it might not be just the doughs rising this year… Will the holiday spirit bring you closer, or will the heat of competition drive you further apart? 😜
→ Pairing: seokjin x reader (female) → AUs: baking!au, competition!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: enemies to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romcom / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 16.5k → Warnings + triggers: an insane amount of stupid and bad jokes with sexual undertones (like it borders on cringey), tension and a lot of it, sexual frustration, pettiness (briefly), jealousy (briefly), baking jokes turned sexual (I’m sorry, not sorry), unprotected sex in the form of oral (female and male receiving), missionary and very vanilla sex, kissing, tender but also a tiny bit rough (not really, lol), big dick Seokjin, nipple play, nipple sucking, breast play, creampie, multiple orgasms, mention of aftercare (but not described), other sexual encounters that aren’t described in detail, pet names (he calls her princess). → Author’s note: hiiiii!! Hello! Long time no see! I was in a Christmasy mood (written in the end of October lol), and I’ve written this cute and tension filled Christmas love story for my dear friend @allie-in-the-moon 💜 Thank you so much for always reading, commenting and loving my work so much; it means the world to me!!! 😭 So I hope that this story shows my deep gratitude for you—I hope you, and everyone else enjoys it ✨ Please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think with a comment, reblog and even an ask. I’d love to hear your thoughts, even if it’s just you spamming the keyboard or lots of emojis. There’s a lot of bad jokes and puns in this and you get bonus points if you know what song inspired this pun of a title! 😂 (also, I did not proofread this, I know there’s some mistakes, but I’m too lazy to fix them lol). → Read the spoiler? [JINtastic subreddit]  → Read on AO3? [link] 
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With your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you tread the frosted path from the bus stop to the towering silhouette of the grand castle—the heart of the annual Great Christmas Bake-Off. The castle looms before you, its turrets crowned with glistening snow, twinkling lights casting a soft glow in the winter twilight. For three years now, you’ve returned to this place, yet this time, the air feels different, charged with a deeper longing. You clench your hands inside your pockets, the icy wind biting through the fabric of your jacket, as if the cold itself is testing your resolve. If only this could be the year—if only you could finally claim victory, or at least break into the top three.
But as your thoughts drift toward victory, a familiar dread settles in your chest. Kim Seokjin. Your long-time rival, the thorn in your side, always there to ruin your focus with his relentless, groan-worthy jokes. Of course, he’ll be attending again, as smug as ever. A sigh escapes your lips. Can you endure four more weeks of his puns? The mere thought grates at your nerves like a dull knife. Still, you take solace in the fact that there are other contestants—ten, to be exact. Perhaps you can avoid him altogether this year, lose yourself in the company of kinder souls. The thought lifts your spirits, and before you know it, you’re humming a soft tune to the melody of a Christmas song that drifts on the edge of memory—its name lost to the blur of countless holiday seasons, but its warmth still familiar.
Footsteps crunch behind you, but you pay them no mind, your gaze fixed on the castle doors. You can only hope that this time, luck will favor you with a decent room—not like the first year, where you were stuck in a damp, windowless chamber that smelled of mold. This year, everything must be better. Especially now that the world will be watching, with the competition broadcast live on national television. You can’t help but smile, a flicker of excitement mixing with your breath in the cold air, as the castle draws closer.
This time, you tell yourself, things will be different.
The castle stands as a relic of a bygone era, its weathered stones whispering tales of the past, likely from the 1800s or older—though you’re not quite sure. Normally, this place serves as a museum, preserving its history, but every December, it transforms into something magical. As the first of the month dawns, the grand structure becomes home to the Great Christmas Bake-Off, and its ancient walls are filled with the warmth of ovens and the thrill of competition. Surrounding the castle is a scene straight out of a holiday dream: towering evergreens, their branches heavy with snow, stretch towards the sky; a silver stream winds through the rolling hills, and the fields spread wide, blanketed in pristine white. It’s a vision of Christmas perfection, and you can’t help but love it, the landscape glowing with the enchantment of winter.
At last, you make your way up the gravel-strewn path, each step crunching beneath your boots, until you reach the enormous wooden doors of the castle. They are old and heavy, carved with intricate designs, and it takes all your strength to push them open. Inside, a familiar warmth greets you. The space is draped in festive splendor—rich red and gold hues, a plush crimson carpet underfoot, and ancient paintings adorning the white walls, their gilded frames thick with history. You step up to the reception desk, where a handsome blond man stands, his name tag reading ‘Park’. His eyes, a warm hazelnut brown, twinkle with mischief as he catches your smile. “Hi, I’m here for my room key. I’m part of the competition,” you say, offering him a smile that becomes even brighter when you sense the shadow looming behind you. You know exactly who it is without turning around. Determined not to give him any attention, you focus on Park, your smile sweetening as you push aside thoughts of the man behind you.
Park’s lips curl into a grin as he hands you a key. For a brief second, your fingers brush his, and the warmth of his touch is a small comfort against the cold that lingers in your hands. “I’ve given you the best room,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes, “the perfect room for someone as lovely as you.”
Your cheeks flush despite yourself, and you chuckle softly. Oh, he’s sweet, and trouble, you think. But you feel a surge of relief—finally, you won’t be stuck in the dreaded moldy room. Behind you, a familiar scoff cuts through the air, and you roll your eyes. You don’t need to look to know who it is, and you breeze past him, a skip in your step as you make your way to your room.
Finding it easily, you unlock the door and step inside. It’s small, yes, but far more comfortable than your first year here. A single bed sits in the center of the room, draped in dark green linens that match the heavy curtains cascading down from the tall window. The pillows, a deep crimson, add a touch of festive warmth to the space. Exhausted, you drop your duffel bag to the floor and fall onto the bed with a contented sigh, your eyes slipping shut. Tomorrow, the competition begins, and you know you’ll need every ounce of rest you can get.
When you wake, your muscles ache from the journey, and your face feels puffy from sleep. Groaning softly, you gather your things and shuffle down the hallway toward the showers, your fluffy slippers barely making a sound against the cold stone floor. The warm spray of the shower jolts you awake, and by the time you’re dressed, with fresh makeup and a clear mind, you feel ready for the day ahead. With a steady heart and your baking utensils in hand, you descend the grand staircase toward the great hall, where the scent of cinnamon and sugar will soon fill the air. The competition calls, and this time, you’re determined to make your mark.
The main hall is vast, its high ceilings echoing with the murmur of anticipation. Twelve baking stations stand neatly in two rows, six on each side, gleaming under the soft glow of hidden lights. The air hums with energy as cameras are discreetly tucked in the corners, their lenses poised to capture every moment, while the judges’ table—grand and imposing—commands attention at the front. A producer, dressed in black with a headset and microphone, guides you to your station, and you carefully set your supplies on the smooth surface. The shelves beneath the counter provide just enough space to stow away your ingredients and tools, your hands moving methodically as you prepare for what’s to come.
But then, your heart sinks as you catch sight of him—Kim Seokjin. To your horror, the producers direct him to the station right next to yours. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach as he flashes you that signature smile, all too sweet and saccharine, with the familiar mischief sparkling in his crinkling brown eyes. “Fancy seeing you here,” he quips, as he ties his apron around his slender waist, his movements annoyingly graceful. “Back to get your ass kicked again?” His chuckle is low, smug, a sound that makes your blood boil beneath your skin. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to inhale slowly. Calm. You need to stay calm to bake well, you remind yourself, even as the heat of irritation rises within you. “Yeah,” you grunt back, your voice low with restrained anger. “I plan on wiping the floor with your face.” Why, of all people, do you two have the front row benches?
Around you, the hall grows busier. Cameramen move quietly through the room, adjusting angles, capturing every nervous glance and confident grin. The judges have arrived—Yun Christina, a legend in the baking world, with her sharp eyes and warm smile, and Kim Taehyung, whose playful charm hides a discerning palate. At the side stands the commentator, Jeon Jungkook. His tall frame is hard to ignore, built like an athlete with a face so soft it seems to contradict the sleeve of tattoos he wears with pride. There’s something effortlessly captivating about him, and his smile draws as much attention as his ink.
“We’re live in 10 minutes!” a producer announces, and the familiar flutter of anxiety churns in your stomach. No matter how many times you’ve done this competition, the nerves never quite fade—especially with the weight of live television hanging over you. The thought of making a mistake, of becoming a viral meme or the subject of a Reddit thread, haunts the edges of your mind. Seokjin knows this pressure all too well—he’s practically an online legend. His Instagram is filled with stunning images of his creations, each post a curated masterpiece, and he even has a subreddit dedicated to his handsome face and corny jokes. ‘Don’t get Jinxed,’ they call it. You’ve definitely never visited the site, but the stories of his fandom are everywhere, impossible to ignore.
The judges step forward, their presence commanding immediate attention. Christina beams at the group, her hands clasped in excitement, while Taehyung grins with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Welcome, everyone,” he begins, his deep voice resonating through the hall. “Today, we’ll start off easy. Your challenge is to create regular buns, but with the sweet taste of Christmas in them.” His smile broadens, and he pauses dramatically. “You’ll have one and a half hours to present Christina and me with six perfect buns. Let the magic of Christmas guide you.”
Christina claps her hands together, her joy infectious. “We can’t wait to taste what you create! Ready. Set,” she says, her voice lifting the room, and then— “Bake!”
The word slices through the air, and the competition springs to life. Your heart pounds as your hands move instinctively, the ingredients becoming your allies in this battle of skill and precision. Seokjin hums beside you, the sound grating against your nerves, but you push him from your mind. There’s no time for distractions—not today. Today, you’re here to prove yourself, to create something more than just buns. You’re here to craft a masterpiece, with the essence of Christmas baked into every bite.
In a flurry of motion, you gather everything you might need at your station—the gleaming kitchen machine ready to knead the dough, bowls stacked high, the flour, sugar, and baking powder measured with care. Your mind races as you dash to the refrigerators at the back, the cool air biting your cheeks as you grab fresh yeast. Spices linger nearby, their rich aromas filling the air, and you make a swift decision—cinnamon and apples. The sweet warmth of cinnamon paired with the crisp, tart apples is a classic, a comforting blend that whispers of holiday mornings by the fire. With practiced hands, you quickly dissolve the yeast in lukewarm water, watching the delicate bubbles rise before adding it to the flour and oil. The kitchen machine hums to life, its rhythmic kneading a soothing counterpoint to the buzz of the room. Time is your greatest adversary—dough needs to rest before it can rise into perfection, and every second counts. While the machine works, you gather crisp apples, their skins glistening under the lights, and grate them roughly, the scent of fresh fruit mingling with the warm spices around you.
As you’re focused on the task at hand, Jungkook appears beside you, his presence radiating calm curiosity. “What are you making?” he asks, his voice smooth, as the camera zooms in on your hands, catching every careful movement. You glance up, giving him a soft smile, though your mind is racing. “Apple cinnamon buns,” you reply, juggling ingredients with a steady hand. His smile broadens. “A classic combo,” he says approvingly before moving to Seokjin’s station.
Your heart sinks as you hear Seokjin’s voice, his tone confident and infuriatingly charming. “I’m making pumpkin buns with cinnamon sugar on top,” he announces, and you can almost hear the smug grin in his words as he adds that he’ll be shaping them like pumpkins. Like pumpkins are even a Christmas thing? You roll your eyes, irritation bubbling as the camera lingers on him far longer than it did on you. It’s not that you’re jealous—not exactly—but it’s hard not to notice how much more attention he gets, how the spotlight seems to favor him, casting everyone else into the shadows.
Returning to your dough, you add the shredded apples to the mix, the machine whirring gently as it blends them in. When the dough is ready, you pull it from the machine, feeling the weight of it in your hands. There’s something grounding about working the dough with your fingers, shaping it, molding it—your hands know the rhythm of this dance well. You sprinkle flour across the table, working the dough slowly, savoring the texture, your hands moving in steady, practiced motions.
“Careful with that dough,” Seokjin pipes up from beside you, a playful glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t want you to get too kneady.” His pun hangs in the air, and you cringe, resisting the urge to groan as the cameraman swoops in, once again capturing his every move.
“That was so bad,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes as you divide the dough into six even portions. Each piece is dusted with flour, your hands working quickly, forming the dough into perfect rounds. A glance over at Seokjin reveals that he’s somehow ahead of you—some of his buns already resting, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knows exactly how much this irks you.
He chuckles, his voice low as he works his dough with casual ease. “You should watch yourself,” he teases, “or you’ll end up spread out like this dough.”
You stifle a groan, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you grab a baking tray, your movements quick and efficient as you line it with parchment paper. Carefully, you place your apple cinnamon buns down, spacing them out before covering them with a cloth, allowing the yeast to work its magic as they rise and puff up. Your eyes dart back to Seokjin’s station, and you can’t help but notice how far ahead he still is—his bench already wiped clean, his buns resting, as if he’s been playing this game for far too long.
But you remind yourself—it’s not about speed. It’s about the buns. And yours will be nothing short of perfect.
You glance at Seokjin again, feeling the weight of his presence beside you, and rush to clean your bench with hurried hands. His voice cuts through the noise, playful and sharp, “You keep staring at me like that, and I might think you’ve forgotten what we’re actually baking here,” he says, his laugh spilling out in waves—full-bodied and obnoxious, like a windshield wiper squeaking through a storm. God, how you hate it. That laugh grates on your nerves, scraping at the last of your patience.
With your bench spotless, there’s nothing left to do but wait. You cross your arms, eyes wandering, trying to ignore the anticipation that hums in the air. Jungkook is moving through the room, his voice soft but firm as he interviews the other contestants. You tune out Seokjin’s interview, determined not to let him rattle you, focusing instead on calming your breath. When it’s your turn, you speak with a quiet passion about your love for baking—how each year you come back, driven by the dream to win, just once, to finally claim the prize that has always been just out of reach.
The minutes trickle by, and after what feels like forever, you lift the cloth to reveal your buns, risen and perfect, their golden promise waiting to be fulfilled. Seokjin pulls the cloth off his buns at the same time, his voice dripping with mischief as he grins your way. “You really know how to get a rise out of me... or is that just the yeast talking?” His laughter fills the room again, and this time, it spreads like wildfire. You hear the other contestants chuckling behind you, and your stomach tightens with frustration. So lame. The joke was painfully lame, and yet they laugh as if he’s a comedy genius. You push forward, determined not to let him get under your skin. Brushing your buns with a delicate layer of egg wash, you sprinkle chunky sugar over the tops, watching it glisten in the light. The oven waits, hot and ready, and with practiced ease, you slide your tray inside. For a moment, you linger there, sitting in front of the oven like a camper before a flickering fire, watching as the buns slowly turn golden. You know this process well, the way the dough will puff and brown in exactly eleven minutes, and you double-check the timer, feeling a quiet confidence bloom in your chest.
When the timer beeps, you pull the buns from the oven, their perfect golden sheen filling you with a rush of pride. They look beautiful, warm and inviting, just as you’d imagined. To your right, Seokjin is already plating his buns with a flourish, his hands moving with an ease that makes you grit your teeth. You rush to do the same, arranging your apple and cinnamon creations with care, each one a testament to your skill.
The competition timer rings, and the tension in the room snaps like a wire pulled too tight. One by one, the contestants are called to present their work. When Seokjin’s turn comes, you can barely contain the roll of your eyes as the judges swoon over his pumpkin-shaped buns, praising his technique, his creativity. He stands there, soaking in their compliments with a smile so smug you can almost feel it radiating across the room. He eats it all up, every word, while you silently seethe, waiting for your moment.
And then, it’s your turn. You walk to the front, presenting your apple cinnamon buns with steady hands, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. Christina and Taehyung inspect your work, and you hold your breath, but to your relief, their expressions soften into smiles. Compliments flow your way—no critique, no hesitation. They love the warmth, the balance of flavors. Satisfaction warms your chest, but you keep it inside, holding your victory close, knowing there’s still a long road ahead.
At the end of the round, a contestant is eliminated—a guy named Kwon, whose face you barely remember. Only eleven remain now. Ten more to beat.
The cameras finally stop rolling, the tension in the room easing as everyone begins to disperse. You head toward your room, eager to review your baking books, one of them authored by none other than Kim Taehyung himself. But just as you’re about to retreat into the quiet of your thoughts, you feel a hand on your arm. You turn, and there’s Seokjin, his smile sharper than before, his eyes glinting with something like challenge.
“Good luck tomorrow,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that sets your teeth on edge. “Just remember, there’s only room for one winner here. But...” he pauses, his tone growing sweeter than honey, “I might let you take a bite of my victory… if you ask nicely.”
You clench your fists, resisting the urge to respond with the fire burning behind your eyes. Instead, you offer him a tight-lipped smile, letting your silence speak for you. You won’t let him win—not this time. Tomorrow, the real competition begins.
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A good night’s sleep can cure almost anything—but not, it seems, the stubborn ache in your back. The new room may be a small upgrade from the first year, but the bed springs creak like old bones, refusing to offer even a whisper of comfort. You sigh, stretching your stiff limbs, trying to shake off the lingering fatigue. 
Yesterday’s competition left a flurry of emotions behind, but instead of retreating to your room, you spent time mingling with the other contestants, laughing, chatting, doing your best to dodge the dark-haired Seokjin whose presence you’ve come to despise. There are so many fresh faces this year, and a few familiar ones from the past—some that carry the weight of past victories. You’ve even found yourself thinking, more than once, that there should be a rule: once you win first place, you shouldn’t be allowed to enter again. Let someone else have a shot. Let you have a shot. It’s a wish that flickered through your conversations with the other women, murmured over cups of tea and shared frustrations. But rules are rules, and here you are—still in the shadow of Kim Seokjin. 
But not for long.
With newfound determination swelling in your chest, you stride down the grand staircase, each step echoing your resolve. The camera crew is already in place, their lenses trained and waiting for the drama to unfold. Not today. Today you won’t be sent home. You can feel it in your bones. You glide to your station, pointedly ignoring Seokjin’s casual wave and sugary smile—he won’t distract you, not this time. You can feel his eyes on you, but you keep your focus sharp. Today, you’re here for one thing, and it’s not his attention.
The judges enter with a quiet authority that pulls everyone’s gaze. Taehyung, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, claps his hands together and greets the room in that deep, melodic voice of his. “Good morning, everyone! Today’s challenge is another easy one, yeah. We’re keeping it simple—cookies.”
Cheers ripple through the room from contestants behind you, their excitement palpable. But you know better. Cookies aren’t just cookies. There’s an art to simplicity, and you can’t afford to underestimate it. As Taehyung speaks, Christina steps forward, her voice soft but full of warmth. “You’ll be making two varieties of cookies. Six of each, so twelve in total. The flavors are up to you, but they need to complement each other,” she says with a gentle smile, her eyes scanning the room, lingering on the possibilities. 
Off to the side, you catch a glimpse of Jungkook—tall, tattooed, and sharp-eyed—ready to start the competition with his usual flair. Before he even has a chance to utter the word “bake,” your mind is already alive with ideas. Chocolate, orange zest, cinnamon, almonds—flavors begin to swirl together in your thoughts like sugar in a mixing bowl. Your hands itch to begin, your mind races, and your heart pounds with the thrill of creation.
This is your moment. You’ll make it count.
Before your mind has fully settled on a plan, your hands are already in motion—grabbing bowls, spoons, and flour the moment Jungkook’s voice announces the start. The familiar rhythm takes over, and you quickly turn the oven’s dial, ensuring it will be heated just in time for your dough’s transformation. Under the bench, you find a block of chocolate, its dark richness calling to you. With swift, practiced motions, you chop it into large, satisfying chunks, the knife’s steady rhythm keeping pace with your heartbeat. Chocolate chip cookies—simple, but timeless. Your grandmother’s recipe is legendary, the kind that lingers in memory, and you know it will speak for itself on the judges’ tongues.
Adding chopped almonds for texture, you blend the sticky dough, your hands moving as though by instinct. Soon, the dough is portioned out in neat mounds on parchment, each one promising gooey perfection. Into the oven they go, disappearing behind the hot glass, and already your mind is leaping ahead to the next batch. Orange zest, you decide—a bright, citrusy contrast to the chocolate, something both bold and nostalgic.
As you stir the second dough, the spoon moving lazily through the thickening batter, you catch sight of Jungkook and two cameramen gliding over to Jin’s station. You roll your eyes, already anticipating the onslaught of Reddit posts, memes, and fangirls swooning over whatever nonsense Jin is about to spout. No doubt, he’s ready to charm the cameras.
“So, Seokjin, what kind of cookies are you making? Just from the batter, they look really delicious,” Jungkook says, trying to sneak a taste from Jin’s mixing bowl like a kid caught in a cookie jar.
“I’m making candy cane cookies with vanilla, and a batch of chocolate peppermint crunch,” Seokjin replies smoothly, his voice practically dripping with the satisfaction of knowing all eyes are on him.
“Amazing! Can’t wait to taste,” Jungkook beams, while Seokjin slides his tray into the oven with a showman’s flourish. A burst of steam escapes as he shuts the door, and he turns to the cameras with that signature smirk of his. “Is it hot in here, or is it just the oven? Or maybe…” He pauses, eyebrows raised suggestively. “Maybe it’s just you?” 
You scoff, even though your gaze lingers on the scene longer than it should. That was painfully predictable, but no doubt, the fangirls will swoon. You shake your head, refusing to admit you’ve ever spent a moment browsing through Jin’s subreddit—no, not you.
Jungkook, ever the charmer, saunters over to your station just as you pull the first tray of cookies from the oven. The golden-brown chocolate chip beauties rest on the tray, and the smell of warm, melted chocolate fills the air. His eyes widen in anticipation, practically salivating. He reaches for one, but you gently swat his hand away, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “Careful,” you warn, “they’re hot—and there’s only six.”
Jungkook pouts, his lips forming a playful smile. “They look incredible,” he admits, his gaze still fixed on the cookies as though they were treasures freshly unearthed.
Before you can respond, Seokjin’s voice cuts through the moment from your right. “Looks like your cookies aren’t the only thing heating up in here,” he quips, his deep laugh filling the room—rich, unrestrained, and annoyingly confident.
You grit your teeth, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, unsure whether it’s from the oven’s warmth or Seokjin’s infuriating presence. His words swirl around in your mind, making your blood simmer, but you refuse to look his way. Not today. You won’t let him distract you. Not now.
Christina and Taehyung appear beside your bench like a pair of deities, their presence as magnetic as it is intimidating. Up close, Taehyung’s beauty is striking—flawless skin, eyes that seem to hold secrets, and a calm that makes your pulse race. You can feel beads of sweat gathering at your temples, heat rising not just from the oven, but from the thrill of standing before this legend. “What kind of texture are you aiming for in your cookies?” he asks, his voice rich and velvety as he watches you deftly portion the orange zest dough before sliding it into the oven.
You swallow, trying to steady your voice. “I’m going for crisp on the outside, soft and sweet in the center,” you say, cheeks warming under his intense gaze. Damn it. Get it together. You silently pray the blush on your face isn’t betraying you on national TV, even with the camera zoomed in on your every move.
A sudden, familiar laugh breaks your concentration—Seokjin. You glance over, and there he is, obnoxiously close, standing at your bench as though he owns the space. His broad shoulder nudges yours, his smirk devilish. And of course, he can’t resist. With a wink at the camera, he adds, “That’s just how I like my women.”
You blink, momentarily stunned by his audacity. Is he really doing this right now? In front of the judges, in front of Taehyung? He’s hijacking your moment, stealing the spotlight you’ve worked so hard for—and making a joke at your expense. Your blood simmers.
“Go away, you jerk,” you mutter, shoving him back towards his own station, but the damage is done. You catch Taehyung and Christina exchanging glances—subtle, but there. You let out a sigh, feeling your frustration simmer just beneath the surface. Tackling Seokjin to the floor and giving him a piece of your mind sounds so tempting, but no. You rein yourself in, forcing a smile instead.
Seokjin, ever the provocateur, throws a wink at the camera and grins. “Impressed, Y/N. Not everyone can handle this much heat. Guess I’ll have to turn it up,” he says, his voice light but layered with something more. And as if to punctuate his words, you watch him out of the corner of your eye—he’s actually turning the heat on his oven higher. What on earth is he playing at? The hall feels warmer, sweat prickling your skin as the competition wears on. Is he talking about the ovens? The tension between you? Or the way he’s managed to catch up to you despite the chaos?
The cookies are nearly done, and you wipe your brow, wishing you’d made both batches at once instead of one after the other. Jin’s smugness only deepens when you realize he’s managed to bake both varieties simultaneously, and now, somehow, he’s neck-and-neck with you. Damn him.
With the final timer ringing out, you pull your cookies from the oven—golden, perfect. You carefully plate them, arranging them with precision. The judges make their way through the line of bakers, and soon it’s your turn. Walking up to the front, your heart pounds, but the praise that follows is worth every ounce of effort. Even if they’re ‘simple’ as Christina put it, the execution is flawless. You let out a quiet breath of relief, but before you can celebrate, Jungkook swoops in and steals a cookie right from Taehyung’s hand. The whole room erupts in laughter, and for a moment, the tension breaks.
Seokjin, of course, gets his perfect feedback too. Not that you’re surprised. The two of you are safe for another day, though as the announcement rings out, your heart sinks a little—Eun, one of the kind women you chatted with yesterday, is the one sent home. As she leaves, the weight of the competition presses down on you. Eight more people stand between you and victory, and among them, the one person you refuse to lose to—Seokjin.
The next two days blur together, a whirlwind of meringues and bread dough, flour dusting every surface like snow, batter splattered across your bench. Somehow, by grace or sheer luck, you’ve managed to hold your place in the competition. Now it’s the second week, day five, and the pressure is palpable—only seven of you remain, each step closer to the edge, and everyone is fighting harder, knowing the next misstep could mean elimination.
As you descend the grand staircase, the tension in the air feels heavier than before. You’re the last to arrive, the others already poised at their stations, judges watching with eagle-eyed precision. When you reach your bench, something catches your eye—a sprig of mistletoe hangs conspicuously in the center aisle, like a trap waiting to spring. You make a mental note to steer clear of that festive lure, no time for distractions, no matter how innocent.
Christina’s voice rings out, warm and inviting. “Today, you’ll be baking pies! Crisp edges, soft centers, and a filling that sings of the season.” Her smile is comforting, but Taehyung’s nod is all business, his eyes gleaming with expectation. “The filling is your choice, sweet or savory, but it must be in line with the spirit of Christmas,” he adds, his deep voice resonating in the hall like the toll of a bell.
You nod, the vision of your pie already clear in your mind—a memory-laden apple-pear lattice pie, passed down from your grandmother. The tart bite of apples softened by the sweetness of ripe pears, all tucked beneath a delicate lattice crust dusted with sugar. Nostalgia and tradition baked into every bite. You know this pie by heart—it’s your connection to the holidays, the warmth of home wrapped in pastry.
As soon as Jungkook announces the start, your hands move with purpose. You reach for the flour, the butter, the cold water—crafting the crust that will hold your memories together. Focused, you’re already mixing the dough when Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air. “Notice anything new?” he chuckles, pointing to the mistletoe overhead, “A little extra something to trip you up—or maybe bring you some luck!”
You roll your eyes, brushing off his playful tease. You didn’t come here for kisses or games. Your eyes flick to Seokjin, who’s snickering under his breath, ever the one to play along. But you push the sound of his laughter away, focus sharpening like a knife’s edge. He won’t trip you up this time—not with jokes, not with smiles. Your hands work swiftly, shaping the dough into something beautiful, knowing that every moment counts in this relentless competition.
No matter what mischief brews beneath the mistletoe, your eyes are on the prize.
As Jungkook drifts behind you, interviewing the contestants in low, animated tones, you’re relieved for the momentary quiet, allowing you to pour your full attention into the pie crust. This is where it all begins—the delicate balance between flour, butter, and water must be perfect. The crust is the foundation, the soul of the pie. You flick on the oven, feeling the heat radiate in waves, and start toward the supply table to grab a mold. But before you make it halfway down the aisle, you slam right into a solid wall of warmth. Seokjin.
“Sorry,” you mutter, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You sidestep to go around him, but Seokjin clears his throat, and you feel the annoyance bubble up inside you. You glance up at him, your lips tight. “What?” The word slips out sharper than you intended, but your patience is wearing thin.
He doesn’t respond at first, just raises a finger to point above your heads. You follow his gaze—mistletoe. Of course. The sight drains the color from your face. The mistletoe hangs above you like a mischievous sprite, and your heart drops into your stomach. No. Not with Seokjin.
“I’m not kissing you,” you hiss, crossing your arms defensively, feeling a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. The growing number of cameramen hovering around doesn’t help. You can practically feel their lenses zooming in, capturing every moment of your horror.
Seokjin’s smirk grows, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s tradition,” he says, his tone infuriatingly playful. “Don’t you believe in tradition?” His eyebrow quirks, daring you.
Damn Seokjin and his ridiculous smirk. You grit your teeth, a storm brewing in your chest. “Fine!” you snap, voice tight with frustration. With a huff, you step up onto your tiptoes, grab his annoyingly perfect face with flour-dusted hands, and plant a quick, perfunctory kiss on his lips. A fleeting touch—just enough to meet the demands of tradition, nothing more, nothing less. But the moment your lips brush against his, something stirs inside you, unbidden and unexpected. You pull away like you’ve been burned, cheeks blazing scarlet, heart racing as if you’d sprinted a mile. The cameras catch it all, zooming in on the moment—your moment with Seokjin, under the damn mistletoe. Your mother is probably watching this unfold, and you already dread the mountain of messages awaiting you back in your room. And Seokjin’s subreddit? You can only imagine the wildfire of jealousy that’ll sweep through it.
Mortified, you dart past him, heading for the pie mold like it’s the only lifeline left. Behind you, Seokjin chuckles, completely unaffected, while you feel like the floor might as well swallow you whole.
You slam the mold down on your bench, your body still buzzing with the embarrassment of it all. In a haze of frustration, you glance over at Seokjin’s bench. The idea forms before you even register what you’re doing. With a swift motion, you turn the dial on his oven a notch higher, a small, petty act of vengeance. Maybe that’ll teach him to stop messing with you.
“If you wanted me under the mistletoe, you didn’t have to bump into me, you know,” Seokjin’s voice floats over, teasing, unbothered. Before he gets back to his station, you’re already back to yours as if nothing happened.
Your fingers move automatically, rolling out the dough with steady precision despite the flutter of irritation still coursing through you. You lay the crust in the pie tin, pressing it gently into place, trying to focus on the task at hand. As you slide it into the oven for a quick pre-bake, your gaze drifts to Seokjin. He’s melting chocolate at his bench, completely at ease, while you’re still trying to get your heart to stop racing.
What the hell is he baking? You wonder, shaking your head. But whatever it is, it better not be good enough to outshine your pie.
Taehyung and Christina make their way around the room, their presence like an elegant breeze passing through the charged atmosphere. When they reach Seokjin’s station, Taehyung flashes his signature boxy smile, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “So, what are you baking today, Seokjin?” he asks, voice smooth as velvet.
Seokjin grins, the kind of smile that holds a touch of mischief. “I’m making a Mississippi Mud Pie,” he declares proudly, his tone thick with confidence, as if he’s already envisioning the applause.
“Interesting choice,” Taehyung remarks, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “I hope you manage to keep that pudding silky smooth.” His words hang in the air, a challenge wrapped in playful encouragement.
Seokjin nods with a flash of determination before turning back to his task, while you continue preparing the glaze for your apples and pears, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he’s making something as bold and obnoxious as a Mississippi Mud Pie. Always grandiose, always showy. You stifle a smirk and push forward, focused on your own pie. 
With nimble fingers, you weave the lattice atop your tart, dusting it generously with chunky sugar crystals before sliding it into the oven. The warmth of baking apples and pears is already beginning to dance in the air, a comforting scent that feels like Christmas itself. You glance over just as Seokjin slides his pie into his oven, and the question tickles the back of your mind—did he even notice the temperature? 
“I thought Christmas was all about giving,” Seokjin’s voice floats over, snapping you from your thoughts. “How about giving me a break and stop staring like that?” There’s a teasing edge in his tone, and for a moment, you falter. Had you been staring? Damn it. You avert your eyes quickly, but the truth is, you’re curious to see what havoc that tampered oven might wreak on his precious pie.
Time slips by, and as you clean your station, a faint smell begins to curl through the air—something acrid, something burnt. You can’t help the small, wicked smile tugging at your lips. It’s coming from his bench.
Before you can enjoy the moment, Jungkook materializes in front of Seokjin, all wide-eyed and concerned. “Uh, Seokjin... I think your oven might be burning something.”
Seokjin waves him off with the casual arrogance of someone who never second-guesses his skills. “No, no, it’s fine,” he says confidently, but Jungkook pushes further.
“Just check it, mate.”
Finally, Seokjin opens the oven door, and a thick cloud of scorching hot air bursts forth, like an accusation made of smoke. His expression falters. “Shit!” he exclaims as he rushes to pull out the pie, his face darkening with frustration. It’s burnt—not ruined entirely, but the edges are crisped more than they should be. You bite back a laugh, wishing it had turned to charcoal.
His gaze snaps toward you, sharp and piercing, like he knows exactly who’s behind this little mishap. “Well, well,” he smirks, eyes glinting. “Looks like someone’s been naughty instead of nice, messing with my oven temperature just to throw me off.”
You blink innocently, batting your eyelashes as you offer him your best impression of sincerity. “I’m so sorry,” you say, voice dripping with faux sweetness. Both of you know the truth—it’s anything but an apology—but you can’t help but find this moment deliciously funny.
Seokjin chuckles, the sound rich and unbothered as he begins to assemble the other components of his pie. “Oh, I get it now. Sabotage me, burn my pie, and then you try to sweet-talk your way out of it?” His words are playful, but there’s an undercurrent of challenge beneath his voice.
You turn back to your own creation just in time to pull your pie from the oven, golden and perfect. The scent of apples and pears wafts toward you, warm and inviting, and you feel a surge of pride. Perfect. 
Seokjin isn’t done yet. “Nice try, though,” he says, not missing a beat. “Your little ‘sabotage’ just makes me want to beat you even more.” Then, with a glint in his eye and a smirk playing on his lips, he leans in slightly. “Maybe even taste what you’ve got cooking.”
Your breath catches for just a second, heart skipping a beat at the unexpected flirtation. Did he just say what you think he did? 
You quickly shake it off, focusing back on your flawless pie, hoping that his burnt crust might just seal his fate. But fate isn’t that kind, and as the day’s competition ends, Seokjin survives. Someone else, with a pie more disastrous than his, is sent home. You’re both safe for another day, and as you walk back to your bench, you can’t help but feel both triumphant and a little unnerved. 
This isn’t over.
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It’s the third week, the seventh day, and you’re already halfway through the competition. You stand at your bench, hands clasped gently in front of you, fingertips brushing and fidgeting, a small effort to calm your jittering nerves. Why you’re nervous is beyond you—yet there it is, that flutter, pressing into your chest. 
Across the room, Taehyung, Christina, and Jungkook step up to the judges’ bench, their faces alight with matching mischievous grins. An ominous spark flickers in their eyes, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. Whatever’s coming won’t be easy. Jungkook claps his hands together, a low, resonant sound that carries across the hall, his eyes sweeping over each of you.
“Good morning, everyone!” he greets, his voice cheerful and commanding. “I hope you’ve all rested well, because today, you’ll be making—sourdough bread!”
The words hit you like a chill down your spine. Sourdough, of all things! Your breath catches in a gasp; you’ve made sourdough before, but never with a timer breathing down your neck. The very essence of sourdough is its patience, its slow, careful fermentation. 
Before the panic can take hold, Jungkook flashes a grin, his bunny teeth peeking out as he adds, “Luckily for you all, Taehyung has prepared a batch of sourdough starter so you can skip the fermentation process.”
Relief trickles through you, the tension easing in your shoulders. A starter made by the Kim Taehyung himself—a legendary boost if ever there was one.
“All you need to do is turn it into a flavorful bread of your own design,” Christina chimes in with her warm, encouraging smile.
Taehyung nods, his voice soft yet firm. “But don’t forget—this is a Christmas competition. Bring those holiday flavors to life.”
With the judges’ call to begin, you spring into action, finding the precious sourdough starter tucked neatly under your bench. As you run through flavor ideas, one combination settles in your mind—walnuts and cinnamon. Yes, you think, a spiced walnut bread sounds just right. Your hands move almost of their own accord, gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, oil, walnuts. You fire up the mixer, combining everything with precision, your gaze flickering momentarily to your right. Seokjin, just as focused, seems to be neck-and-neck with you. You quickly turn away, determined to keep your attention on your dough. Yet as you slide the mix out of the bowl and start kneading, a creeping dread begins to gnaw at you. The dough doesn’t feel right; instead of that soft, slightly sticky texture, it’s dense and tough, refusing to yield beneath your palms. 
Your heart skips a beat. Damn. Something’s off. You must have slipped up somewhere with the ratios. You press on, kneading harder, trying to bring life to this obstinate mass, hoping a little coaxing will do the trick. 
But then you hear a soft chuckle from beside you. Seokjin, watching with a gleam in his eye, can’t resist the jab. “I hope you’re better at making out than you are at making dough,” he quips, his tone light yet cutting. “Because, judging by that disaster, you’ll need something to make up for it.”
Your blood boils, cheeks flushed with irritation. He has no idea what kind of kiss he missed under that mistletoe, when he only got a peak. His smirk grows as he turns back to his own bread, perfectly unbothered, and you clench your teeth. If he thinks he’s seen the last of your kitchen skills, he’s in for a surprise.
Focus, you tell yourself, hands pressing into the dough with renewed intensity. If anything, his teasing will only push you to rise—just like this stubborn dough is about to.
You knead the dough with an intensity that borders on frustration, each push and twist a quiet vent for the anger bubbling beneath the surface. The dough yields under your hands as you work it harder, almost punching it into shape. Suddenly, Jungkook appears by your bench, his brows furrowed as he takes in your struggle.
“Trouble?” he asks softly, voice edged with concern. You’re too caught up, too irritated to even answer, so you only grunt in response, lifting the stubborn dough and shoving it back into the mixer. A splash of water might save it, you hope, and you watch the machine turn, willing it to obey.
Jungkook and the camera crew linger a moment longer, their lenses capturing every sigh and furrowed brow, then slowly drift down the line toward Seokjin. The camera’s absence leaves a little more space to breathe, but as you finally check the dough, your heart sinks. It’s too sticky now, clinging uncomfortably to your fingers, almost mocking your efforts. Damn it. 
With no time to start over, you grab the flour, dusting it like a lifeline as you fold and press, trying to bring it back from the brink. Gradually, with each turn of the dough, it begins to take on the consistency you need. Relief washes over you as you shape it, finally, into the pan and slip it into the oven. You bend and arch your back to set it carefully on the rack, breathing out a sigh, satisfied at last.  
“Damn, Y/N—if you’re trying to turn me on, you’re doing a better job than the oven right now.” Seokjin’s voice floats from your right, low and casual, but with a playful glint.
Your mouth drops open before you can stop it, caught off guard as his words settle over you. Did he really just make a sexual comment about my body—right here, on national TV? Anger mixes with embarrassment, but with the cameras still lurking, you only manage a scowl and a sharp roll of your eyes. He grins in response, clearly enjoying your reaction.
When the oven timer finally dings, you take a steadying breath and pull the bread from the heat. It’s risen beautifully, with a golden crust that promises all the flavor and fluff you’d hoped for. But the moment you start to slice into it, dread tugs at you. The knife cuts clean through with too much resistance—too easily. You pull the loaf apart, and your stomach drops. No airy holes, no soft webbing—just a dense, compact mass. 
Damn it all. 
Your heart sinks as you stare at the thick slice, the reality settling in.
Fuck.
You let the knife slip from your fingers, a dull clatter as it meets the tabletop, and you sink to the floor, unable to hold back the weight that’s been pressing on you all day. Tears blur your vision, slipping down your cheeks as silent sobs shake you, and you curse the cameras that have flocked to capture every moment of your breaking. You hate that they’re filming this—that you’ve sacrificed an entire December, each day on display, competing beside someone you’d rather avoid. 
Just then, a gentle hand rests on your back, tracing soft, steady circles that ease the storm a little. Surprised, you look up to see Seokjin crouched beside you, his face soft with a kindness you didn’t expect.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, his gaze moving from your dismal bread to meet your tear-streaked face. “I’m sure it still tastes good. And remember—that’s what matters most.”
You blink up at him, catching his eyes for what feels like the first time. Have they always been this warm, this deep? Rich shades of caramel that seem to melt right through you, gentle but somehow grounding. Your chest tightens as something new stirs, fragile and unfamiliar, even as you brush the tears from your cheeks. He doesn’t crack a joke, doesn’t tease, just holds you there in the quiet of his presence.
Your heart hitches, and you take a deep, unsteady breath. He’s right. Taste is what matters most, you tell yourself, though you know the truth—that texture, that mouthfeel, plays an equal role. But he seems so sure, and you let that comfort settle in for a moment before he gives you a last reassuring nod and returns to his station. You rise, still shaken, hoping someone else fumbled more than you did. In the end, it’s Leah who leaves, but that close call leaves a tremor in your chest that keeps you restless long after the day ends.
Sleep evades you that night, leaving you tossing beneath the weight of everything that happened. You can’t stop replaying that disaster on national TV, the sourdough fiasco, your tears on display. Dread tightens your stomach, the idea of what Instagram or Reddit might be saying about your meltdown twisting your mind in knots. You don’t want to know what people think, how foolish you looked. And then there’s Seokjin, adding to the confusion.
You’ve been avoiding him ever since that kiss under the mistletoe, as fleeting as it was. His lips were warm, soft as clouds, and that one moment had left you breathless. And yesterday, instead of pushing you with his usual banter, he was gentle, almost... tender. It’s left your heart skipping, the memory of his face, his touch, stirring something unnamed and unsettling.
Is he just being nice, or is there something more? Don’t be ridiculous, you tell yourself. Maybe this is just his tactic, trying to throw you off your game, to make you lose your focus so he can swoop in and claim victory. But as you lie there in the dark, his kindness replays over and over, leaving you uncertain. Something’s shifting inside you, something you can’t quite grasp yet—and whatever it is, you can’t afford to acknowledge it now. Not when you still have a competition to win. 
Exhausted but determined, you stand at your bench on this eighth day of the competition, avoiding even a glance in Seokjin’s direction. Just the thought of him, of how good he must look, sends your stomach into a whirl.
“Boy, have we got something special for you today!” Jungkook announces, his grin wide and electric. Taehyung chuckles, adding, “It’s team challenge day!”
Your heart sinks. You’ve dreaded this day since the start, hoping for the luck of a decent partner, as you had in past seasons. But as the names are read off, fate delivers the unexpected.
“You and Seokjin,” Christina calls, her voice carrying a mischievous note as your eyes meet Seokjin’s. There he stands, dark hair framing a face that’s far too perfect. He smiles, and your heartbeat quickens, rebelling against every ounce of sense you’re trying to hold on to.
“Do you want to know what you’ll be making today?” Christina beams.
The room’s voices echo in eager agreement—all except yours. You’re rooted to the spot, standing close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Seokjin’s shoulder, aware of every traitorous thump of your heart.
“You’ll be making gingerbread houses!” Taehyung laughs, a spark of holiday pride lighting up his face. “We can’t wait to see your creativity—and bring that warm, familiar taste of home to life.”
The start bell chimes, and you and Seokjin exchange a nod before quickly settling on your plan: simple but elegant. As he dives into mixing the dough, you turn your focus to the sugar glaze and icings, choosing Christmas colors—red, green, and white. You work side by side, silent but close, the unspoken tension filling every touch and glance. Whenever your shoulders brush, heat flares up your neck, and you can only hope the cameras don’t catch it.
Then, in a moment of calculated ease, he leans in close, his shoulder pressing against yours. “See, I don’t need mistletoe to get you right where I want you,” he murmurs, voice low and warm.
You’re not sure if he’s talking about the gingerbread or something else entirely, but your cheeks flush, and the world narrows down to the steady beat of your pulse. Words escape you, leaving you flustered, almost dizzy, as you help him press the dough into shape, trying desperately to calm the storm he’s stirring within you.
He turns his head just enough to lean closer, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending an electric shiver down your spine. His voice, low and edged with something you can’t quite decipher, murmurs, “I can’t tell if this tension is from the competition… or just from you being this close.”
A hard swallow catches in your throat, and suddenly the room feels far too warm. Damn him for making you lose focus like this.
You manage to cut the dough into its final shapes, sliding them into the oven to bake. As they brown, you check on the icing, spooning through the white, glossy peaks to make sure it’s the right consistency.
“What do you think of this texture?” you ask, holding the spoon high as the icing drips, thick and slow.
His gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long. “Thick and creamy, just how we like it,” he replies, a smirk pulling at his lips. A wink flashes your way, and your face flushes hot. Thick and creamy. You banish the unbidden images forming in your mind, inwardly scolding yourself to get back on track.
When the cookies finish baking, you and Seokjin move in tandem, retrieving the trays and setting the cookies on racks to cool. Golden brown and perfectly crisp, they gleam in the warm light. “They look perfect,” you say, smiling, and Seokjin nods in agreement, arranging the pieces with careful precision.
With the cooling underway, he whips up a fresh batch of icing, the new bowl of white peaks tempting you. “Mind if I taste it?” you ask, reaching toward the bowl. “Just to make sure the sugar’s balanced?”
He raises an eyebrow, offering the spoon. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, tone laced with mischief. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if you find yourself craving more.”
The suggestion hangs heavy in the air, and your pulse races, a current of anticipation tightening your chest. You take a taste, licking the spoon, but a little too quickly; icing slips over your lip and trails down your chin.
His eyes darken as he watches. “I must say,” he says softly, his smile curling with intrigue, “you look pretty with liquid dripping down your chin.”
Your cheeks burn, and something inside you clenches unexpectedly. The heat rising within you is almost too much to bear, and for a second, all you want to do is escape his gaze, escape this overwhelming feeling—run, hide, anything. But no, you won’t back down now. Not today.
Why the fuck are you getting turned on right now?
You shove your dirty thoughts aside, convincing yourself he couldn’t have meant anything suggestive. This is the competition, after all—focus. You set to icing the cookies, carefully piping along the edges as Seokjin holds each piece of the gingerbread house steady.
“You’ve got a real talent with that icing…” he murmurs, voice thick with suggestion. He raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Want to see how good I am at licking it off?”
Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your voice escapes in a half-choked laugh, “No!” Yet you’re left wondering—did he really mean just the cookies? Your heart races, and by now, you must be as red as a ripe apple.
Seokjin leans in, his shoulder brushing yours, eyes glinting playfully. “Better let me handle this,” he whispers, “unless… you’d rather things get a bit messy.”
The closeness is dizzying, and a startled cough escapes you just as Jungkook wanders over, asking if you’re alright. You manage a nod, praying for the day to end so you can escape this charged atmosphere, your flustered nerves, and his honey-laced teasing.
You glance up to find Seokjin’s gaze locked on you, his eyes dark and glinting. “Keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs low, “and I might just let you have a taste of my frosting.”
A jolt shivers down your spine, heat pooling in your cheeks—and elsewhere, much to your horror. You exhale shakily, fingers trembling as you finish icing the final wall of the gingerbread house, praying for the cameras to cut so you can flee.
Finally, the house stands complete, a festive masterpiece that brings a surge of pride and relief. With a quiet thank-you to the heavens that you’ve made it through the day, you’re spared elimination. The moment filming ends, you bolt from the hall, the steady beat of your heart pounding like a drum in your ears.
Reaching your room, you swing the door open, craving solitude. But just as you go to close it, a hand stops the door, and a familiar foot wedges into the gap, preventing your escape. Seokjin appears in the doorway, his presence filling the room as he nudges the door open. You turn, surprised, meeting his gaze as he scans your face, concern softening his eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asks, voice low and gentle, and you catch a hint of genuine worry. 
“Y-yeah,” you manage, feeling your pulse skip. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both in this moment. He steps forward, his gaze drifting around your room, but you instinctively retreat until the edge of the bed presses against the backs of your legs. Caught between him and your own mounting desire, you feel strangely exhilarated, breaths uneven as anticipation rushes through you.
“You just seem…” His voice trails off as he draws nearer, his eyes tracing your features, “a bit… out of sorts.”
You swallow, trying to steady yourself, but his intuition sees right through you. “I’m… I—” You start to speak, but words falter. Say the truth, or shield it?
His eyes narrow slightly, his voice dipping into a whisper. “You’re a little… wet, aren’t you?” The question drips with suggestion, and heat floods your cheeks. Your breath catches, and he smiles knowingly—Seokjin has never been one to miss a tell. 
He’s so close now, his scent, warm and intoxicating, fills your senses. His lashes flutter as he leans in, and for a breathless second, your eyes lock. Without thought, driven by the longing pounding in your chest, you reach for his face, pulling him down to meet you in a kiss that’s anything but tentative. It’s intense, melting away whatever barriers you held, a wordless confession pressed from your lips to his. You lean into him, drawn, tethered by an undeniable need.
When you finally part, his dark eyes are fixed on you, filled with astonished heat. “Princess,” he murmurs, voice husky, “do you really want this?” He searches your face, looking for any hint of hesitation.
“I do,” you whisper, your voice raw with desire, “I don’t know why… but I need you, right now.” Your own need sounds urgent in the quiet of the room, and his gaze flickers, a grin tugging at his lips as he pulls you close once more. 
You pull him close, kissing him deeply, wanting nothing more than to feel him everywhere, his warmth mingling with yours. Your hands trace the lines of his body, and he lets out a soft, knowing chuckle. “Well, princess is in a rush,” he murmurs, a teasing smile playing on his lips. You can’t help but giggle—he’s always had that look, one that riles and draws you in. His beauty, so effortless, had once made him feel like a thorn in your side. His charms seemed unfair, his confidence so maddening. But now, in his arms, all of that melts away; there’s no room for anything but this want, this anticipation.
“Call me that again,” you say, breathless. “I like it.”
“Princess,” he breathes, voice low and laced with desire. Your hands glide lower, feeling him pressed against you, hard and wanting. You bite your lip as you savor his reaction, and he smirks, lifting a hand to brush your cheek, before leaning close to press a kiss on your forehead, soft and unexpectedly tender.
“Let me taste your cream,” he whispers, eyes dark with mischief and longing.
A laugh bubbles up from you. “Really, Seokjin? Is that your best line?”
He chuckles, his gaze unwavering. “I’m serious. I’ve wanted you since we set foot in this castle.”
The admission catches you off-guard, your heart skipping as you meet his gaze, feeling that familiar, disarming warmth. “Wait… Since the start of the competition?”
He shakes his head, voice dipping to a whisper. “No. Since the moment I first saw you.”
His eyes, rich with longing, hold you captive. Corny as it is, it’s so him, and there’s something so undeniably real in the way he looks at you that you’re left breathless. 
“You mean it?” you murmur, still stunned, but unable to resist his pull.
He answers only by lowering you back onto the bed, his touch gentle, yet urgent, and you sink into the softness beneath, wondering if somehow, in his presence, everything feels warmer, softer, more alive.
Seokjin gazes down at you, his eyes twinkling with that familiar, infuriating smirk. “Oh, I know you’ve felt this too. The way you look at me says it all.”
Your lips curl in defiance, though your pulse betrays you, hammering under his gaze. “I looked because I thought you were ridiculous—and infuriating,” you murmur, heart skipping as he leans closer, closing the last sliver of space. 
“Yet here we are, and still… you want me,” he breathes, his words brushing your lips just before they meet. His kiss is deep, a slow surrender, and you moan softly, hands curling over his broad shoulders as though anchoring him there. Your kiss is hungry, desperate, as though he might vanish, and when he pulls back, you laugh breathlessly, “Yes, alright, I want you—even if you’ve been an ass.”
He grins, all smug satisfaction. “I do have a good ass, and so do you might I add.” His gaze glints mischievously as he traces a line down your body, catching the edge of your pants and slipping them down your legs. “Let’s take a proper look, shall we?”
The fabric slides away, leaving you in a sliver of lace. He inhales sharply, admiring the delicate pink, and you can feel his gaze linger as he teases, “Pretty soaked for someone who’s supposedly annoyed with me.” His hand hovers, like he’s savoring the moment, his voice low. “What would I find, I wonder?” 
Breathless, you lift your hips, letting him pull the last barrier away. His smile softens as he takes you in. “Oh, princess,” he murmurs, voice thick with appreciation, “you’re glistening. Like a rare gem.”
Heat pools in your cheeks, heart pounding at his words. No one’s ever looked at you like this, and he senses your shy retreat, gently catching your arm before you can shield your face. “Don’t hide from me now,” he whispers, pressing a warm kiss to your wrist. “It’s just you being beautiful. Let me see you.”
Then he’s there, lips trailing down the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving a fire in their wake. You feel your body hum in anticipation, every nerve aware, waiting.
“Don’t tease me,” you murmur, fingers threading into his soft hair, tugging gently. 
He looks up, a satisfied glint in his eye, the corner of his lips lifting. “Oh, but I’m going to. Because this moment, with you… I want to savor it.”
Slowly, he draws closer, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin, his gaze heavy with intention. The first ghost of his lips on your pussy sends a shiver through you, drawing out a helpless moan. Instinctively, you arch toward him, craving more, but his hands are there, steadying your hips, holding you in place with gentle strength.
Then, his mouth descends, and the first touch of his tongue on your clit sends you spiraling. He moves with a softness and rhythm that leaves you breathless, and when he begins to press his tongue in slow, unyielding circles, a molten heat spreads through you, curling your toes. Each movement feels like a practiced art, his mouth relentless as he savors you, tasting every bit of your arousal with unhurried devotion. The pressure builds inside you, your breaths quickening, pulse pounding.
Your fingers clench in his hair as you gasp, “God, I’m already so close… How are you this good?”
He says nothing, only hums in response, and the low vibration nearly sends you over the edge. He keeps working, drinking you in, savoring every quiver and moan that slips from your lips. You can feel yourself cresting, a torrent of sensation washing over you as you tighten your grip, and he knows—you’re almost there, and he’s right there with you, groaning in satisfaction as he tastes every pulse of pleasure.
The release is all-consuming, a rush that lifts you, dizzies you, blurs the edges of the world. You’re floating, flying, a haze of pure sensation that fades only when you’re utterly spent.
You meet his gaze, dazed, and whisper, “Let me taste you too.” He smiles, standing to pull down his pants and underwear, and you sit up, eyes widening as he’s revealed, long and thick, every inch of him somehow as beautiful as the rest. You slide to your knees, your palms pressing into his hips as you look up at him, your lips parting. With one hand, you wrap around him, earning a sharp hiss as you bring your mouth to him. You start with the barest of kisses at his tip, savoring the salt and warmth of him, a hum of pleasure escaping your lips. His moan deepens, and you smile, swirling your tongue over him with languid strokes, focusing on every place that draws out his breaths and soft curses.
His eyes darken, his breathing growing ragged, and you feel the tension between you deepen, pulsing in rhythm with every touch. You want to make him feel everything he just gave you, and as you lose yourself in the rhythm, you know that the night is only beginning.
He’s breathless now, each exhale a shiver against your skin as you take him deeper, letting his pleasure guide your every move. His fingers rest in your hair, gentle but firm, grounding him as he struggles to hold back a moan. His voice is rough, ragged as he stutters, “Engh—princess…so good with that tongue.”
You glance up, catching his gaze, and hold it with a mischievous spark. In that moment, you give him a slow, deep pull that has his eyes fluttering shut, a strangled groan slipping free. Encouraged, your hand finds its way to his balls, caressing, and you revel in every new sound he makes—each one sending warmth surging through you, building your own need.
But just as he seems ready to let go, he stills your movements, framing your cheeks with both hands as he catches his breath. His thumb traces your skin, his eyes darkened with desire, and he breathes, “You’re incredible, princess, but…I need to be inside you.” 
He hesitates, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “I don’t have a condom—do you?”
You pull back, a glistening thread connecting you for a moment before you smile, whispering, “It’s okay. I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.” A small laugh escapes you as you add, “Besides, this wasn’t exactly on my itinerary for tonight.”
Relief softens his features, and he runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further as he laughs with you. “Same here. And I’m clean too.” Then, without another word, he gently lifts the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until it catches briefly in your hair, pulling you both into a shared, breathless laugh as it’s tossed to the floor.
For a moment, he just gazes at you, taking in every curve, every rise and fall of your breath. His hands slide behind you, unhooking your bra, and as it slips away, his gaze drinks you in. “You’re…beautiful,” he murmurs, voice soft with reverence, as though seeing you like this has stripped him of words.
You arch into him, and he cups you, his hands warm and reverent, kneading your skin with a tenderness that has your heart thudding. His fingers trace slow, teasing lines down to the soft, sensitive peaks, barely grazing them, sending delicious shivers racing through you. A moan slips past your lips, urging him on, and you feel his lips close over one, hot and soft, his tongue swirling in ways that leave you trembling. He alternates, his other hand grazing, then gently pinching, teasing out sparks of pleasure that arch through your body.
“Jin—oh god, it’s…” you gasp, but words fail as his mouth closes over your other peak, his hand tenderly attending to the first, each touch adding fuel to the fire raging between you.
He lifts his head, lips parting with a quiet sound as he whispers, “Good?”
“More than good,” you breathe, feeling yourself melt under his touch.
You teeter on the edge of bliss, so close it’s dizzying—but just as you reach for it, he pulls away. A fleeting pout crosses your face, only to be replaced by awe as he sheds his shirt, and god, he looks like a masterpiece. The warm glow of his skin, rich and golden, calls to you; the strong line of his shoulders tapering down to his narrow waist, and below that, his cock—full, hard, and yours to claim. The thought alone makes your pulse race. Every bit of him leaves you breathless, and suddenly, there’s nothing you want more than to feel all of him.
He leans over, guiding you down, covering you in gentle, feverish kisses that send giggles tumbling out between your sighs. His body presses against yours, skin to skin, his dick grazing against your thigh, and your pussy throbs in answer, sending shivers radiating out from your core.
“I want you, Jin,” you whisper, offering yourself to him, fully and freely.
“Oh, I want you too, princess,” he murmurs back, the words a caress against your collarbone as he trails his lips up to your cheek. Slowly, he guides himself to your entrance, positioning himself carefully. His voice softens, “Ready?”
You bite your lip and nod, heart pounding, as he begins to ease into you. You feel every inch as he stretches you, filling you so deeply that it borders on overwhelming. You hadn’t prepared yourself, a detail you remember only now, and for a moment, you squeeze your eyes shut. He pauses, his brow furrowing in concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asks gently, searching your face.
You chuckle, half-apologetic, “I forgot to prep. It’s…been a while, but keep going.” Despite his hesitation, you nod reassuringly, opening yourself to him fully. He holds your gaze for a heartbeat, and with a final glance for confirmation, he presses deeper, sliding into you with a controlled tenderness. The ache as he stretches you only heightens the pleasure, a sensation that grounds you in the here and now, and you find yourself craving even more, wanting him to lose himself with you.
“You’re so tight,” he rasps, still pressing in, his breathing labored.
A shaky laugh escapes you. “I did say it’s been a while. You’re so big—I think you’re almost splitting me in two.”
A chuckle slips from his lips as he strains to control himself, stilling inside you. “Oh? Now you’re joking?” he asks, amusement lighting his eyes.
“Maybe a little,” you whisper, breathless, “but it does feel incredible.” 
Finally, he’s fully seated within you, filling you completely. He takes a moment, his breathing uneven as he absorbs the sensation, and then he begins to move, a slow, intoxicating rhythm that has you clutching at his shoulders. Each glide ignites sparks that streak down your spine, stars already dancing before your eyes. Your toes curl, and that familiar knot tightens low in your stomach, winding tighter with every thrust, unraveling your senses until you’re completely, blissfully lost in him.
His whispered, “Fuck,” is thick with pleasure, a low groan as beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the dim light. He hovers over you, breath warm against your skin, hands planted firmly on either side of your head, grounding you in his intensity. He moves slowly at first, each thrust deliberate, unhurried, yet powerful, the rhythm coaxing cries of pleasure from deep within you as his body presses into yours.
“Seokjin,” you pant, voice trembling, each syllable tangled with need.
“Princess,” he echoes, a rough murmur that makes your body pulse in response, clenching around him. He falters, groaning at the sensation, and his eyes darken as he slides his hand beneath your thigh, lifting it to rest over his shoulder. The change is immediate; he fills you even deeper, his movements reaching an intensity that makes every nerve sing. The new angle has you gasping, clinging to him as he strikes that perfect spot, driving you toward the edge with relentless precision.
“Right there!” you cry, vision spotting, as he picks up the pace, his breaths sharp and stuttering. Your whole body is alight, toes curling, heart pounding, the pleasure mounting too quickly to contain. He grins as he watches your desperation, his hand dipping between you to find your swollen clit, fingers circling and pressing, amplifying every sensation. You’re drenched, his fingers slipping over you easily, driving you higher as your breath hitches, your body shuddering, head thrown back as the climax crashes over you. His name escapes your lips, a cry filled with release, as you feel yourself clench tight around him.
You open your eyes to his face, gorgeous and utterly captivated, his gaze locked onto you, stunned and transfixed. “You…damn, that was beautiful,” he rasps, still circling your sensitive flesh as your body trembles in the aftermath. His own body tightens, breaths quickening, and he leans closer, groaning your name as he thrusts deep, finding his own release. A final shudder ripples through him, and he lets out a sound of your name you’ll remember, deep and raw, filling you with warmth.
As he pulls back, breath heavy, he reaches to sweep a damp hand through his hair. “That…that was amazing,” he murmurs, grinning, his face flushed and bright.
You can’t help but smile back, a quiet chuckle escaping, “I agree.”
“Let me get you cleaned up,” he whispers, tenderly withdrawing as he reaches for a cloth, gentle as his hands linger. You lie there, chest heaving, slowly returning from the edge, the two of you savoring the haze of satisfaction between you. You’d just shared something unforgettable with Seokjin, the man you once called an enemy—but now, that feels like another lifetime away.
Morning’s first light glows softly against the frost-covered castle walls as you step outside with a steaming cup of tea, hoping the chill might clear your mind. The steam from your cup swirls like a small, fleeting cloud in the crisp winter air, mingling with your breath as you stroll along the snow-dusted path. Massive evergreens stand cloaked in fresh powder, their branches heavy with snow, while the castle behind you sparkles with delicate strands of Christmas lights that flicker with a nostalgic warmth. The decor, the quiet beauty—it all fills the air with a festive, dreamy charm.
You wrap your hands tighter around the cup, its warmth spreading into your palms as your thoughts drift back to last night. Seokjin had come to your room, and the memories of the intensity between you still linger, bringing a flush to your cheeks. You can’t help the way your stomach flutters when you remember his touch, the way he melted through every wall you’d built around yourself. There’s no denying it anymore—you like him. Maybe you always have. Maybe all that tension you held against him was just your heart speaking the only way it knew how, because acknowledging these feelings felt too risky. But now it feels even messier. What are you supposed to do with this, with him, here, in the midst of a competition where every moment counts?
Lost in thought, you don’t even hear footsteps approaching until a familiar voice murmurs behind you, “Having regrets?”
You turn, surprised, and meet Seokjin’s steady gaze. He’s watching you intently, something unreadable in his expression, but the glint in his eyes makes your heart skip. Regrets? Not a chance. “No… Never,” you say honestly, the answer flowing out of you without a second thought. The surprise in his face softens, and he steps closer, his brow furrowing as he studies you.
“Then what’s on your mind?” he asks, voice low as if he’s afraid to break the quiet between you.
You hesitate, blowing gently on your tea as you gather your words. “I… like you. I like you a lot. But I don’t know what that means here, now, while we’re both still in this competition. I just don’t want to mess things up.”
Seokjin nods, a small, understanding smile spreading across his lips. “Well, I like you too,” he says simply, and his sincerity warms you even more than the tea in your hands. “We don’t have to make it complicated. Why don’t we just take things as they come? Let’s be in this moment, here together, and not let it get in the way of anything.”
You consider his words and feel a sense of ease settle over you. His simplicity, his kindness—they’re exactly what you need. “That sounds perfect,” you whisper, heart lightening.
He grins, reaching forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, and the moment feels as close to magical as the glittering snow around you.
For a while, you simply stand there together, absorbing the quiet. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft but determined. “I’d better go in and get ready for the semi-finals. Coming?”
You nod, catching one last look at the snowy landscape before following him, feeling strangely certain that whatever happens, this memory, this moment with him, is yours to keep.
Inside the grand, echoing hall, the atmosphere thrums with anticipation—third week and it’s the semi-finals, and only four contestants remain. It’s another sourdough challenge, and the thought knots your stomach; but this time, you feel armed with everything you’ve learned, determined to redeem yourself from the last round’s missteps. You’ve reviewed every ratio, every technique, certain you won’t make the same mistakes twice.
Across the room, Seokjin catches your eye, flashing a small wink your way that sends warmth rushing to your cheeks. You look down quickly, hoping the cameras miss your blush. You can already imagine the uproar if anyone notices the subtle shifts between you and Seokjin. His fans would be livid, and part of you shivers at the thought. But another part is thrilled—glowing, even—that his glance lingers on you alone.
Taehyung’s voice cuts through the quiet as he announces the start. You reach for your premade starter, blending it with flour, water, salt, and crushed walnuts. A familiar recipe—but this time, perfected. As the machine kneads, you steal a glance at Seokjin, working at his own station. He looks over and smirks, nodding to the dough in your hands. “If you keep kneading it like that,” he murmurs with a glint of amusement, “I might have to admit I’m a little jealous of it.”
Your cheeks flush deeper, and you stifle a laugh, hoping the cameraman didn’t catch the exchange. You’ll knead him later, if he’s lucky. The thought amuses you, and you bury your smile, adjusting your focus as you work the dough in your hands until it reaches that perfect, silken elasticity.
Moving through the contestants, Jungkook stops by Seokjin. “That’s a beautiful dough,” he says, nodding approvingly.
Seokjin grins, a mischievous spark in his eye. “Thanks. I know this is a baking competition, but you can stop flouring me with compliments every time.”
Jungkook’s laugh echoes through the hall, and the room feels warmer somehow, each exchange brimming with camaraderie and friendly rivalry. You cover your dough to let it rest, feeling a swell of satisfaction as the texture is just right. Wiping down your station, you shift your focus to the next challenge—cupcakes, of course, because the semi-finals wouldn’t be complete without multiple recipes in one day.
You dive into the batter, drawing on the festive mood with a blend of cinnamon and shredded carrot for a Christmas touch, and creamy frosting chilled in the fridge, each detail meticulously planned. Into the oven go the cupcake molds, filling the hall with a warm, spiced aroma, blending with the yeasty scent of sourdough proofing.
Across the bench, Seokjin is working with a similar quickness, his gaze drifting to you with a gentle intensity that you can’t help but return. As you work side by side, sharing the small glances that carry more meaning than words, you feel a strange harmony, both within yourself and with him. You’re in the competition—but in these moments, everything feels like a rhythm, an unspoken bond both fierce and gentle, pushing you toward something extraordinary.
In goes the frosting to chill, waiting patiently in its piping bag, and now it’s back to the sourdough. You uncover the dough, marveling at its perfect rise, feeling a surge of confidence and—well, maybe a touch of mischief. Glancing over at Seokjin, you call out, voice low and playful, “You know, the only thing that should be rising faster than this dough is the tension between us.”
He lets out a deep, warm laugh, a sound that wraps around you and settles deep in your stomach, stirring something close to admiration—maybe even more. “Touché, Y/N!” he grins, pulling the cloth from his own dough with a wink. “Though, this dough isn’t the only thing that’s rising around here…” His words hang in the air as your mouth falls open. You give him a quick look, half-worried he’s serious, but you don’t find him popping a boner and instead find him grinning, reveling in his joke. The mischievous glint in his eye is impossible to resist, and you can’t help but laugh, enjoying the banter you two have woven between the flour and dough.
Focused, you place your dough on a baking tray, score a precise line along the length with a sharp knife, dust it lightly with flour, and slide it into the oven alongside your baking cupcakes. You’re quick to pull them out once they’re golden and perfect, setting them on a rack to cool as time dwindles. The kitchen hums with activity, everyone moving at a near-frantic pace, yet somehow you feel steady with Seokjin beside you. You glance at the clock—just fifteen minutes remain. The bread has to finish, and the cupcakes still need their frosting. Seokjin catches your anxious glance and gives you a reassuring smile, dashing to the fridge for his frosting. His calm steadiness eases the pulse of worry in your chest, and you follow suit, gathering your frosting bag and applying smooth, swirled peaks to each cupcake, finishing them with a sprinkle of walnuts.
As you pull your sourdough from the oven, the loaf is everything you hoped for—golden, hearty, the cut expanding beautifully along its edge. With a sense of quiet pride, you plate everything just in time, arranging the warm, rustic loaf and delicately frosted cupcakes into a small but satisfying spread. Relief washes over you when the round ends without either you or Seokjin being eliminated—though the victory feels bittersweet as Kevin packs up his station.
Exhausted but exhilarated, you and Seokjin retreat to your room to unwind, sharing stories and laughter until words give way to the kind of silence only the two of you can understand. And as the evening stretches on, he leaves you breathless in new ways, your bond deepening with every heartbeat shared between laughter and tantalizing touch.
With each passing day since the competition began winding down, you and Seokjin have become tangled in each other’s warmth, his presence as comforting as the scent of baked bread. But today—today is the final. Just the two of you remain, locked in a dance of rivalry and something deeper, unspoken. It’s week four, and the pressure sits heavy in your chest. You’re here to win, driven as ever—but some part of you almost wants him to take the victory, too. How strange, this tug of ambition and affection, both pushing you forward and grounding you at once.
The vast hall feels somehow larger with only two stations now, each of you taking your place under the blinding lights. Cameras linger, catching every nervous inhale, every flicker of emotion, and you steel yourself as Christina addresses you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Today is the finale, and we can’t wait to see what you’ll make. We’re asking you to prepare three distinct Christmas desserts.”
Your heart skips a beat. This isn’t just any bake—it’s a final act, a moment to define the entire journey. Taehyung steps forward with his trademark grin, “You’ll be baking the same desserts, so we can judge them side by side. They are: a chocolate raspberry roulade, a traditional Christmas pudding trifle, and finally, profiteroles.” 
Profiteroles. You feel a pang of dread—choux pastry, your nemesis. But there’s no time to overthink it. You exhale deeply, eyes darting to Seokjin, who meets your gaze with a soft, reassuring smile, and you offer one back, letting that silent exchange ground you. Whoever wins, it won’t be for lack of trying.
“Bake!” Taehyung shouts, clapping his hands, and the clock starts ticking. You dive in, gathering ingredients, organizing every move in your mind like a well-choreographed routine. Pudding layers, roulade filling—everything goes into the fridge and blast chiller to set, and you work swiftly, feeling beads of sweat prickling on your brow. Seokjin keeps pace beside you, and you can’t help but catch the gentle gleam of his focus. As you fumble with a pat of stubborn butter, Seokjin’s voice lilts beside you, “You think you’re so tough, but I bet you’d melt faster than butter in my kitchen.” His teasing catches you off guard, and you laugh, cheeks flushed, just as a cameraman swoops in to capture the moment.
Then, a murmur fills the hall—a door opens, and suddenly a chorus of voices drifts through. You pause, glancing up, and your heart stumbles as you see them: your mother, sister, nieces, and nephews, all holding balloons, flags and waving, their faces beaming. Behind them, an older couple you recognize from photos as Seokjin’s parents stand with pride lighting up their faces. More familiar faces follow—the eliminated contestants, cheering, their hands clapping, adding an electric energy to the air.
The crowd reminds you of what brought you here and what’s at stake, and it fills you with a quiet determination. It’s down to the two of you, and you intend to give it everything, heart and soul, even if it’s the final push in more ways than one.
“Welcome, everyone!” Jungkook calls out, his voice brimming with excitement. “We’ve prepared seating just over here, so you can sit, relax, and enjoy watching the grand finale.”
Your heart pounds as the realization settles in—you’d forgotten about this moment, the pressure of having every pair of eyes on you in the throes of your work. You’ve never reached the finale before, and the weight of the audience—family, friends, past contestants—is suddenly heavy, a slight quiver of doubt creeping into your hands. But before you can spiral, Seokjin darts over to your bench, leaning close enough for his warmth to steady you. “Take it easy,” he murmurs, his voice a balm to your nerves. “You’re doing great. But who would’ve thought baking with you could feel this... intense? Not that I’m complaining—I’ve always liked a challenge.” He throws you a wink before returning to his station, leaving you with a small, fluttering smile. Seokjin’s usual banter never fails to ground you, even if he’s technically still the competition, both of you eyeing that coveted trophy and the hundred-thousand-dollar prize. A part of you can’t help but think, though, that he’s won enough already—why should he get this one too?
Returning to your tasks, you finish mixing the batter and pour it onto a tray, sliding it into the oven just as the judges approach, their expressions curious and bright. “How’s it going, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, his familiar warmth and calm demeanor making you smile despite your nerves. “Pretty good,” you answer, focusing on the profiteroles. “I just need to pipe the choux and bake it, and then it’s on to assembly. Just hoping to finally beat Seokjin for once,” you add with a sheepish laugh. It’s no secret—he’s always been the one to catch, and your admiration, even begrudging, is genuine.
“Think I’m playing hard to get, do you?” Seokjin’s voice calls out from his station, his tone teasing, playful, earning a burst of laughter from the audience. “Princess, I’m just giving you a taste of what’s coming.” At the word ‘princess,’ your breath hitches, a warm flush creeping over your cheeks. You chance a look toward him, and his eyes meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing in them. Thankfully, no one else seems to catch the slip, and you focus back on your profiteroles, steadying your hands and your thoughts.
As you start piping the choux, you toss a look back his way. “Well, Seokjin, I’ll have you know I’ve got a secret ingredient in my roulade this time—I’m feeling pretty good about taking first place.” 
He chuckles, your exchange laced with that familiar, easy banter you’ve shared a thousand times, though now it simmers with something deeper, something unspoken. “Oh, a secret ingredient, huh? Cute,” he replies, amusement thick in his voice. “But I already know your weakness, princess…,” he pauses for effect, the words rich with mischief as he slides his profiteroles into the oven. “Me.” 
The words strike a chord you weren’t prepared for, and your hands still, feeling exposed as his eyes flicker with a knowing gleam. He’s right—damn it, he’s right. He is your weakness, more than you’re ready to admit.
“For someone who talks a big game, you sure seem distracted by me,” he laughs, returning to his work. The sound pulls you back to reality, and you move to your next step, hoping the blush has faded enough to go unnoticed. Glancing toward the crowd, you catch sight of your mom’s watchful eyes, and you can only pray that neither she nor the cameras caught the moment.
You slide the roulade from the oven, transferring it to cool on a fresh tray, each step a carefully orchestrated dance of urgency and precision. Raspberries glisten in their bowl, their color vivid against the creamy filling you grab from the fridge, and you can’t help but smile—chocolate and raspberry, a classic match. I hope it’s perfect, you think as you roll the delicate sponge, sealing it with care before tucking it away in the fridge.
The hours slip by in fragments, your family’s cheers a soft echo at the edges of your concentration. Nearly everything is done: the roulade chilled, the profiteroles cooling on the tray, the trifle assembly is next with a bit of hope and a dash of doubt. You’re so close. You portion the trifle into gleaming glasses, slipping them into the fridge, then temper the final swirl of chocolate for your profiteroles, adding a whisper of orange zest for flair. Each element comes together like pieces in a puzzle, one you hope will capture the hearts of the judges.
Finally, you and Seokjin finish almost in sync, both of your creations plated to perfection. The judges, standing at their table with anticipation, gesture for you to present your roulade first, then Seokjin’s. Side by side, your roulades look like echoes of each other—his, perhaps a bit more precise, but the judges praise the flavors of yours, and you breathe a little easier. When it comes time to present the trifles, nerves flutter in your chest. Pudding has always been your challenge, and it shows. Taehyung’s gentle apology about its grainy texture confirms what you feared, and you nod, feeling the sting despite the kindness in his voice. It’s not over yet, though. The final moment comes down to the profiteroles. Watching the judges savor each bite, their expressions inscrutable, feels like holding your breath underwater. Did you get the texture just right? Are the flavors enough? You can’t tell if they favor yours or Seokjin’s, but the judges step back to confer, and the wait stretches on. Seokjin catches your eye, and the slight squeeze of his hand around yours is like a wordless reminder: Whatever happens, you made it this far. The audience hushes as the judges return, smiles lighting their faces.
“Seokjin is the winner,” they announce, and the room erupts in cheers, the joy swelling around you even as your heart sinks. You give a soft smile, watching as his family rushes to his side, while yours gathers around you, their hugs and warmth softening the ache of coming so close.
Taehyung clears his throat, addressing the crowd. “Honestly, Y/N, it was such small details that set you apart—mostly the pudding texture and the choux consistency.” You nod, grateful for the explanation even as disappointment lingers, a reminder of how hard you tried to make this win your own.
As your mom wraps you in a warm embrace, she whispers, “It’s alright—second place is still something to be proud of,” her voice gentle but consoling. You can’t help the small eye roll, even as you know her heart’s in the right place.
Suddenly, there’s a familiar arm around your waist, steady and reassuring. Seokjin pulls you close, leaning his head onto your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to your neck. “How are you feeling, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and meant just for you. 
But the entire room seems to freeze. Conversations fade, and a hush spreads as everyone looks on, your mom’s jaw slack in surprise, cameras hovering so close they might capture the racing pulse at your throat.
You let out a breath, half-laughing as you shrug. “Honestly… a bit deflated,” you admit, feeling his warmth steadying you, “but I’ll survive.” You lean into his embrace, letting it soften the lingering ache of the moment.
Then he turns you toward him, his gaze intent, before he kisses you—fully, deeply, with a confidence that leaves you breathless. A soft sigh escapes, and you can hear whispers ripple through the room, a wave of disbelief from everyone watching. They had no idea that this quiet affection had been growing in secret all this time.
Seokjin pulls back, his eyes shining as he holds your gaze. “It’s okay. You can beat me next year,” he teases, a hint of laughter in his voice.
You pout, rolling your eyes with playful sass. “Oh, I plan on beating your ass next year,” you reply, certain and unflinching.
He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his words a soft thrill against your lips. Then he pulls back, a sudden tenderness in his expression. “But… there’s something I want to ask you first.”
Curious, you tilt your head, waiting. “How would you feel about going on a date with me and spending Christmas together? Maybe somewhere special—a resort in the mountains, all-inclusive?” His words tumble out, eager, a little nervous.
“Trying to buy my love, are you?” you tease, grinning as you hear your sister muttering behind you, “Go! It’s all-inclusive!”
Seokjin stammers, his eyes widening in flustered surprise. “What? No, princess, I just—” 
You press your hands against his chest, silencing him with a soft smile. “I’m joking. Yes, I’d love to. To date you, officially. And spend Christmas with you. I like you. Might even love you a little,” you add, pinching your fingers close to show just a little, even though you know it’s more than that.
The smile that lights up his face is nothing short of radiant. His arms tighten around your waist, and he lifts you, spinning you in an impromptu waltz that has you laughing breathlessly as he plants a quick kiss on your forehead. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” he says, his voice low and thrilled against your ear, his warmth filling you from head to toe. You hum in agreement, already lost in the certainty of it.
Seokjin may have claimed the trophy, but with him by your side, you know you’ve won something even better. And as the room erupts in applause, you realize this Christmas will be the start of something unforgettable.
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→ Taglist: @back2bluesidex @yoontaethings @ktownshizzle @closer-to-jungkook @tea4sykes @myspi2010 @luaxjin @dazzlingjade @lachimolalajeon @agustverse @mrs-ksj @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @ajoonniice
→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice
→ Author’s endnote: what did you think??? Please let me know. This one was so fun to write and I laughed multiple times. I hope you had fun reading too 🥰
© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰
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thrumugnyr · 8 days ago
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My @acotargiftexchange gift for @witch-and-her-witcher: Secret lovers Tamlin and Rhysand
Big thanks go out to Santa helper @highlordofkrypton, who graciously offered to contribute a little ficlet for the piece as well~! You can read it under the cut:
Meet me when the spirit blossoms bloom
The stars fall from the sky, sneaky little droplets under the cover of Night. They slip through the crack of Tamlin’s window, dancing across his sheets with their tails entwined like held hands. The bright baubles play, forgetting their missive for a brief moment of joy. The littlest one tumbles, bumping right into the young lord’s chin. It scrambles over his lips and wiggles under his nose until its a—ah—
“Achoo!”
Tamlin wakes with a surprise. He looks at the lights, and they pass on the message with great theatrics. He scoops them into his arms, and carries them to the window sill where they may watch, or leave. Whatever they please. He dresses swiftly, faster than the anxious beat of his heart.
I shouldn’t. I can’t allow this to continue.
And yet, his fingers fly across the buttons of his shirt, buttoning them with swift ease. His body thrums with eagerness. Each thump in his chest speaks his truth: I want to see him, I want to see him, I want to see him. Tamlin scoops up the stars as he leaps onto the sill, gently tossing them into the sky. They have a duty now, too, to watch over them and warn them of danger. With each escape, Tamlin cannot help but expect the sound of the alarms, of the furious steps of his brothers and of his name twisted into that of a traitor’s, but it never comes. One day, it will, but he takes today for himself and gifts it to the one who summons him.
Tamlin slips out of his father’s court and flies the rest of the way, trusting his great tawny wings to carry him where he needs to go. Past Summer, past Winter and over the Middle. If these Lords sense his trespassing, they say nothing.
I have to tell him. I have to be strong for both of us.
The meadow in Dawn is one of many safe spaces where duty, tradition and expectation cannot find them. It is a quiet place shielded by trees where alabaster flowers bloom. Their cores are not of colourful pollen, but of tiny little wisps, little spirits of neither human nor faerie nature. The wisps keep their secret, and Tamlin will be eternally grateful to them.
There is no choice to make, only something he must do. Love or life. He cannot love if one of them is dead. By ending this, he is protecting both of them. He is making sure that his beauty, his wonder and his charm carry on somewhere in this damned world, even if it’s not with Tamlin. 
He will change lives. He has already changed mine.
It’s different in his presence. Rhysand brings the moon and the stars with him, his personal guard while the rest of the nation slumbers. A dashing smile blooms on his handsome features, growing wider and wider at the sight of Tamlin. His joy is clear on his face, and the flush on his cheeks is a matching pair to Tamlin’s.
“Rhysand,” Tamlin breathes.
“Darling,” Rhysand hums, reaching for him.
“Wait—”
The words get caught in his throat as he sees the elation in Rhysand’s face falter. The smile slips away, replaced with worry and… sadness.
“What is it?” Rhysand asks, just a whisper, as if he can still prevent the moment from shattering.
I can’t do it.
Tamlin closes his eyes, shaking his head. He exhales, and leans in close. “I think… I think I’m in love with you.”
Rhysand chuckles in relief. He bumps his head against Tamlin’s, mindful of his antlers. “I thought you were going to say something else. I love you too.”
There’s a sorrow in Rhysand’s eyes that never quite leaves, no matter how fine he appears. He knows what Tamlin was going to say. The end is coming, sooner or later, but not now. Not if Rhysand can help it.
Just one more day.
One more day by the spirit blossoms.
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gucciforasushirestaurant · 7 months ago
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The Look
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summary: its awards season. meaning glits, glam, and harry looking like a total snack at events.
word count: 8.8K (i got carried away 😬)
read time: 37 min
content warning ⚠️: D/s dynamics, MAJOR DADDY KINK, subspace, dom space, dd/lg (if you squint), (filthy) dirty talk, mild & sweet degradation, pet names (love, lovie, baby, baby girl, good girl, baby love), possessive!harry (if you squint), anal play (plugs), nipple clamps, light bondage (if you squint), spanking, paddling, (mention of flogging/ a flogger), fingering, ring kink (is this a thing? sure.), hand kink, light choking, manhandling (kind of), unprotected sex (and the mess that comes with it), (slight) hair pulling. If I messed something let me know!
a/n: I saw this picture of Rihanna looking at A$AP Rocky like she was about to suck the soul out of that man in front of all those people….and then I wrote this. and I'll do it again lol. Enjoy! 😉
You were bored, and beyond ready to go home. You hated award season, selfishly. You knew what it meant for Harry, and you were always so proud of him, and his accomplishments. But dammit did you hate all that came along with it. Dressing up and cameras, let alone the interviews. You’d only ever get a question or two thrown at you,but regardless, you were not built for it.
But Harry, he was a natural born star. He didn’t love the attention all of the time, but you knew him well enough to know that he did get a bit of a kick out of the attention. And he knew how to handle it far better than you ever could. It made you feel all the more guilty when all you wanted to do was stay home, cook a nice meal together and watch your shows. But you were nothing if not supportive, always taking one for the team, even if the team was just Harry. “It’s just a few hours,” you’d tell yourself. “Just a few hours and then I can have him all to myself the rest of the night.”And that’s what you told yourself, and that's how you ended up here, at some after party, in a dress, vacuum sealed to your body in heels that feel like stilts, and a little too tipsy from the free-flowing champagne.
Harry had just gotten off the small stage,giving a speech about…something. And while you were so proud of him, and how he commanded a room, you hadn’t heard a word he said. You were too busy gawking at your charming, devilishly handsome boyfriend.
Harry works his way through the crowd, eyes locked on you and dimples popped as he tries his best to make it to your side. He’s stopped a few times, gives some pleasantries before he’s by your side again, kissing your temple.
“You, alright?” he asks. You nod with a hum, looking up at him over your champagne flute.
“Why are you looking at me like that,” Harry smirks, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you in. Harry knows the look, it's a look you only ever give him when you're in one of your moods. And it usually precedes you sucking the soul out of him.
“Like what?” you ask, earnestly.
“Right,” He chuckles, eyes looking down at your lip tucked between your teeth.
“What? I’m not looking at you like anything!” You defend, leaning up to kiss his cheek. And then it dawns on him.
You don’t even realize just how you’d been looking at him. All pout, and doe eyes, begging to be fucked and taken care of like you deserve.
“Nothing, honey.” He places a hand on your cheek smirking before leaning and kissing your forehead. “Let’s head out, hm? You look tired.”
“I’m fine! We can stay.” you lie, grateful that he’s suggested you head out early.
“Baby,” he says with a smile, but his tone is the one that makes your legs feel like Jell-O, “We’re going home. I did my obligation. I’ll go get the car. You meet me out front, after you’ve said your goodbye to everyone alright?” He asks, but it’s more like a demand.
You nod with a smile, finishing your drink. He kisses the top of your head, and you watch him make his exit.
*****
“You sounded great up there, Har.” You smile reaching for his hand resting on the shift. He laces your fingers together, kissing by the back of your hand.
“Thanks, Baby Love.” he says with a gentle smile. He pulls up to a red light, looking over at you. “You looked gorgeous tonight baby.”
“You’ve said that already.” you giggle, feeling your cheeks warm up. You lean your head back against the headrest, nibbling at your bottom lip, “A few times actually.”
“And I meant it every time I said it. And I mean it now.” he smirks.
“You look good too.” you smirk.You reach your hand up to his hair at the name of his neck, playing with the curls there. “Your hair looks nice like this. It’s very 90’s Leo.” You giggle and he smirks.
“Yeah? ‘S that a good thing?”
“Mmhmm,” you nod, “and I like this.” You say reaching over tugging on the shirt he’s wearing. It’s a black semi sheer top, with some lace detail. It’s simple, but paired with the jewelry and the fact that you can see his tattoos peeking through…you were more than pleased with tonight's outfit.
“I thought you might.” He turns his head to kiss your palm that’s made it to his cheek, giving it two spongy kisses.
The light turns and his attention is back on the road, so you watch the side of his face instead. Watch his dimple poke as he smiles. “It was written all over your face.” He chuckles after a few moments.
“What was?” You ask brows furrowed
“Those filthy thoughts of yours.” You don’t say a word, just clear your throat, nibbling on your bottom lip and turning your head looking forward. Harry looks over, eyes boring into the side of your face with a smirk. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me what filthy thoughts were going on in that pretty head of yours. Hmm?”
“Noth-” you start.
“Don’t lie to me, you know what happens when you do.” You swallow thickly looking over at him. For the second time tonight he’s used that tone. That dominant tone that only ever comes out when you ///play/// together. And it’s got you feeling all out of sorts. You squeeze your thighs together trying to soothe the ache that's sprung up between your thighs. “Tell me.” He presses once more.
“Just….thinking about playing with your hair….while you’re between my legs.” you whisper nervously.
You’d been with Harry for a while now. And you've never been shy about discussing intimacy. But when he put on that voice, and with his hand heavy on your thigh, it always seemed to make you bashful.
“And?” he prompts. Harry knows there's more, there's always more with you. “My little minx” Harry always joked.
Really he just wanted to work you up. Get you as frustrated, and hot and bothered as he could, because he had plans for tonight. Harry was finally going to reward you for being such a good girl, for him. Not just tonight and stomaching yet another event, but for all of awards season. You’ve always hated the cameras and parties. You’ve hated sharing him with the world. Selfish yes, but he felt the same about you. He couldn’t fathom how you felt every year around this time when he had to be ‘Harry Styles’ and not just your Harry, being ‘on’ all the time and away from you. But, you’ve been so good, and he knows he hasn’t been as attentive as he should be these last few months, so he was finally going to give you all the attention he’s deprived from you lately. All the attention you’ve been too shy, or scared to ask for.
“Your rings.” you finally blurt out.
“What about them?”
“I was thinking….” you pause trying to figure out the least crude way to phrase it,“About feeling them on my ass. I like when you spank me with them, and I like feeling them when…when you finger me too. It's nice.”
“You want me to spank you baby?”Harry asks cautiously. You nod your head slowly. “Why?” he asks, brows furrowed, with only a bit of concern “Did you do something to earn you a spanking?”
You and Harry were no strangers to spanking, or playing rough. But they were usually only reserved for your punishments, or ‘punishments’ as you so dubbed them, as you quite liked the feeling of Harry’s hands on you.
“Maybe.” you purred.
Now he’s intrigued. This was about teasing you before you got home. But now? This was about playing the game. His favorite game, yours too. He snaps his head toward you as you approach another red light.
“Maybe?” he quips, “You either broke a rule, or you didn't, baby? Which is it?”
You take a moment, trying to figure out which way to play it, which way would get you what you wanted most. You could continue to play coy, could lie, or you could be honest.
You chose the latter.
“I did.” you coo, biting your bottom lip.
“Hmm,” He hums, leaning over the center console to get a better look at you. Your eyes were a bit glassy already, a look you only ever got when the two of you played. When you were feeling submissive. “And what rule would that be?”
You look down at his hand that found its way from your thigh to become tangled with yours, twirling the ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings on his fingers. “No panties.” You mumbled.
He heard you, but he really enjoyed making you repeat things, especially if he knew that you were a little embarrassed. “Louder baby. And look at me.” he demands softly.
“I’m not wearing any panties.”
“No?” He mocks. You shake your head as the light turns green. Harry smirks at you, before, slowly pressing the accelerator, eyes back to the road.
“Why would you do that, baby? Go to such an important event, a room full of people with no panties on?” he asks. He knows why, or at least he suspects. But he wants to hear you say it. Likes to tease you, yes, maybe humiliate you a little for being his perfect little slut.
“I was thinking about the last time. Last week and how we…snuck away.”
He smirks looking over at you, with lust filled eyes he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses the back of your hand again. He remembers it fondly, as one of the best quickies you’ve had. Definitely the riskiest you’ve ever been, and he’s not stopped thinking about it since. And apparently neither have you.
“You didn’t wear any panties so it would be easier for me to fuck you in the bathroom again? Is that it?” he probed.
“Yes,” you squeak.
Harry stops at another red light. Cursing the fact that it seems they’ve not made a single one on your ride back. He looks over at you, dimples out, eyes dark with lust. “You like being a slut in public baby?” You nod. Chewing on your bottom lip. He reaches up, and pulls it from your teeth, running his thumb over it. “Why didn’t you ask, hmm? You know how to ask for what you want?” You shrug and squeeze your thighs tighter together. Harry takes notice and presses further, “Instead you were looking at me like a cock drunk whore.” he tuts, “In front of all those people. If I saw it, you know everyone else did too. Don’t you,sweetheart?”
“I didn’t - I don’t know.” You pouts
“It’s okay baby.” he chuckles, “I’ll take care of you when we get home okay. We’re almost there.
“Yes Sir.” you say, with a dopey grin. The honorific just slipped out, before you realized. You may have been slightly embarrassed if it weren't for the promise of what’s to come later tonight.
“Good girl.” He praises, leaning over the consol. He kisses you once, twice, and then a third time before you hear honking behind you.
Harry pulls away from your kiss, seeing the lights turned. There’s another impatient honk before Harry pulls off muttering an “asshole” under his breath, looking in the rear view mirror. You look out your window. Trying to keep yourself from moving around too much as Harry’s hand rested on your thigh, lightly massaging it.
The ride is quiet for a while, as you try to focus on not squirming, and imagining what’s in store for the night before Harry speaks again, voice all rough and authority,“You are getting punished first. You know that, don’t you baby?”
You look at him and nod your head, “Mhmm.” you hum.
Once you’ve finally pulled into the drive at home, Harry has pretty much fully entered his own Dom space and you're slipping deeper and deeper by the second into subspace. When you enter the house, he stops you at the bottom of the stairs reaching for your hand to turn you around. He cradles your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks, “I’m gonna grab some things for the night, and lock up the rest of the house. I want you on the bed in position, in nothing but this,” he says playing with the gold pendant ‘H’ around your neck “and then we’ll start. Okay?.”
You smile up at him, a warm rush going through your body, and nod. “Words, please. And repeat the instructions, for me.” he encourages.
“Go upstairs, sit in a position with only my necklace.”
“Good girl.” He smirks, grabbing your chin and kissing you deeply. He pulls away, you chasing after his lips, “No,” he tuts playfully, “Upstairs. Go.” he nods behind you towards the stairs behind you. You turn, Harry giving a light tap to your ass as you scurry up the staircase.
You’re quick to rid yourself of the uncomfortable costume of ‘celebrity girlfriend’, stripping down to nothing other than the gold necklace as promised. You sit center of the bed on your calves, hands resting on your thighs as you wait for Harry to join you.
He does as per his routine, locking up the house, and grabbing a your nightly water bottle for when you wake in the middle of the night. He does the extra task of grabbing you a snack and a few extra water bottles for the night.
When he passes the threshold of your bedroom his heart skips a beat at the sight of you, naked in the center of your bed, kneeling so pretty for him. But he doesn’t let it show. In fact he ignores you, as he enters the room, not giving you anything more than a glance. Your eyes remained trained on him as he moved through the room.
First to his side of the bed, placing the items he’d brought up with him, before heading over to your dresser, taking off his watch, and setting it in the little dish there. But you note that his rings you love so much remain on. He saunters into your walk-in closet and stays there for far too long in your opinion. Taking his time to get into his unofficial uniform for nights like this. He emerges in nothing but the same pair of relaxed fit dark denim wash jeans, that hug in all the right places, and his rings. Your favorite small velvet red box in one hand. And a leather paddle in the other.
Finally, after waiting what feels like forever, Harry strides over to you, standing at the end of the bed, placing the box on the corner of it. It had only a few things in it by the sound of it, but you still were tingling with anticipation. Without saying a word he jesters for you to come closer to him, with his finger. You knee walk your way over, sitting back on your calves with your hands resting on your thighs. You look at him with a pout, and he smiles.
“Hi baby.”
“Daddy -” you whine, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. You were already getting a punishment, you didn’t want to make it worse.
“Oh, Baby Love,” Harry coos, and you whimper just happy to finally have his attention on you. He cradles your face in his hands, and you lean into his touch. “I’m right here.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumb, and places kisses on your forehead, each cheek, tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You whine into the kiss, and attempt to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away with a tisk. “Nuh uh,no. Punishment, remember.” He smirks, hand traveling down to your neck, stroking the side of it with his thumb.
“Yes Daddy,” you pout.
He reaches over, taking the lid off the velvety box and you peek inside.Inside isn’t your entire collection,not by a long shot. The box is nothing more than the ‘goodie bag’ he makes, everytime you play. Picking up a few things from the big red chest from the back of your closet that held everything ropes, to plugs, to clamps, and lube.
Tonight seemed to be quite the selection, and your pussy was clenching at the sight of the items. You watch him lay a few things beside you. Some nipple clamps with a chain connecting the two. He loved to pull on those while he railed you, and a pink glass plug with a rose on the end, and lastly some lube.
He puts a finger under your chin forcing him to look up at him.
“You know why you're getting a punishment tonight?” he asks.
“Yes”
“Tell Daddy, then.”
“Because I didn’t wear any panties.” .
“And?” he probed, eyebrows quirked up.
“And I ….” your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to get the words out, but nerves taking over.
“Go on,” he chuckles, amused. He loved watching you get all worked up. But seeing just how worked up you are without him hardly touching you had him realize just how badly you needed him.
“I didn’t ask for you to take care of me when I was needy….I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head kissing your cheek, “It’s okay baby. I’m not mad, but I still gotta punish you, okay?” You nod your head, lip tucked between your teeth, “And you know your words if it becomes too much?”
“Red or watermelon to stop, and yellow if I need you to slow down, or if I need to talk to you about something.” you say quietly, and he smiles proudly. .
“Good girl.” he praises, one hand on your neck, the other caressing your cheek, “And your color right now?”
“Green.” You rush out leaning into his touch.
“Very good baby.” He reaches down and picks up the nipple clamps, “We’re gonna start with these, okay?”
“Wait! You gasp, eyes wide.
“You, okay?”
“Yeah. I just - can I touch you. Please?” you asked, and Harry smirks.
“What do you mean baby?”
“Can I kiss you, please?” you whisper. He nods, a little taking hold of your hands, bringing your arms around his neck, as he rests his hands on your waist and kisses you. He allows the make out session for a while, your hands tangled in his hair, while he gropes your ass, and massages your tits, pulling at your nipples, preparing them for the clamps. You moan into the kiss, pushing your hips into his. He allows it once but the second time he pulls away from the kiss making you moan.
“That’s enough baby. Be good, you’re already getting punished, hm?”
“Okay.” you pout.
Harry picks up one of the clamps, leaning down sucking your right nipple into his mouth before he places the clamp. You hiss at the sensation and the combination of the look in your eye, and the sounds you make, make his cock twitch in his jeans. “Good?” he questions.
“Yes.” you sigh with a nod. He leans over to your left breasts, bringing it to his mouth and doing the same as he did with the left. Once the clamps were in place, he lightly pulled on the chain dangling in the center, enjoying the little noises that you make as Harry kisses back up your chest to your neck.
“Feelin’ okay, Lovie?”
“Mhmm” you hum. Harry could tell it was getting more difficult for you to find words, you were slipping further and further into subspace and he couldn’t be happier.
“Good.” he states with a smirk, “Good, baby.”
He sits down next to you on the edge of the bed and pats his thigh, “Across my lap,” He purrs, and you do as your told, laying across his lap, your nipples hard and clamped brushing against the softness of the duvet. The sensation made you whimper, and squirm in Harry’s lap.
Harry takes a handful of your ass, squeezing it in warning. “No squirming. You know the rules. Unless you want more spanks, be still.”
“Sorry, Daddy..” You mumble looking up at him over your shoulder.
“Good girl” with your eyes on him still he reaches to the other side of him getting a tube from the box and picking up the pink plug. “We’re doing your plug tonight, okay?” You nod, biting your lip.
The plug is a relatively new addition to your play time, but it was quickly becoming a favorite of yours, and Harry’s too. He knew how much you enjoyed it, and while so far none of this seemed to be much of a punishment, he had plans for you.
“Color?”
“Green.” you stuttered.
“Good. Head down, relax for me okay?” he commanded.
You rest your head on your folded hands in front of you, your head to the side as you take in a shaking breath feeling his hands massage your ass, before slipping a hand between your thighs.
“Messy already baby?”
“Sorry,” you whimper, a little embarrassed at just how wet you were already, from nothing more than nipple clamps, and making out.
“That’s okay,” he coos, “you can’t help it. Can you, baby?” He leans down, placing a kiss on your right cheek.
“No.” You shake your head, “It’s the clamps, and…you looked really good tonight.” you admit shyly.
“So did you, Baby Love.” he smiles, “too bad you were being naughty. I was going to reward you for being so patient the last few months,” he taunts as he rubs up and down your pussy with one hand, massaging your ass with the other. “But now I have to punish you.” He brings some of your wetness to your tighter hole with his thumb massaging the ring of muscle making you moan out. You grip the sheets to keep you from squirming.
He leans down, spitting right at the puckered hole making you cry out. He smears the saliva around slowly prodding at your hole with his thumb while his fingers danced over your leaking pussy.
He hears you moan but ignores it, continuing his work. “You know why I love punishing you baby?”
“Why?”
“Because…it means I get to play with this cute little ass of yours.” He punctuates the sentence with a light spank to your left cheek with his free hand, as he slipped his thumb into your tightest hole.
“Daddy….”
“Shhh baby. I’m right here.” he coos, his hand up your back, comfortingly gripping the back of your neck as he plays with your clit and hole. Pumping his thumb slowly. After feeling you clench around the digit a few times, and your pussy pulse, he removes his thumb, while continuing to rub up and down your folds. He reaches for the lube, opening it.
“This is gonna be a little cold, okay, baby?”
“Okay,” you murmur
He squeezed a rather large dollop onto your hole rubbing it around, before rubbing the pink glass plug up and down your hole.
“Relax for me, and breathe, okay.”
No matter how much you’ve thought you’ve trained your asshole, it was always a stretch. But when Harry did it, he always made sure you were comfortable and there wasn’t any discomfort.
As he slowly works the plug in. Just a bit. Then out again. Then in a little bit more than out. It was maddening. The teasing. You can’t help but squirm. Feeling his erection against you didn’t help either.
“Daddy.” You moan, and Harry spanked you once, but hard.
“Baby,” he warns. “I’m trying to be patient but you’re only going to make this punishment worse. Be good, okay? Take what I give you.”
You know you shouldn’t be enjoying this half as much as you are. This is a punishment, afterall. But he’s finally giving you the attention you’ve been craving for weeks, and you can’t help but to make your request anyway. “More, please.” you squeaked
“More?” He teases. All you wanted was to feel the stretch of the plug, but he was taking things so painfully slowly.“You want to be filled up, Baby Love?”
“Yes.” you moan, “please.”and you jump as another spank lands onto your ass. The mix of pain and pleasure was almost maddening as it was becoming more difficult to focus on coming up with words, as your whole body was a light with pleasure.
“Be patient.” Harry tuts, “We gotta work it in baby, you want Daddy’s cock in there one day don’t you?”
The thought alone makes you squirm, and whine in Harry’s lap.“Yes” you moan.
“Then we have to go slow. You can barely fit this little guy, how do you expect to take Daddy’s big cock without any practice?” He reaches up, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me baby”
“I don’t know.” you whimper, nibbling at your bottom lip.
You were deep into subspace now, and he knew answering was getting more and more difficult for you. All the more reason to tease you. Harry smiles devilishly, caressing your face, “I know baby. That’s okay. But I need you to take what I give you, and stop complaining. Or your spanking is going to be worse. Do you want the flogger?”
You actually wouldn’t mind the flogger. You loved the thud of the heavy leather strips striking your back, but you shake your head, deciding it’s in your best interest to do as Harry says.
“Alright then, if you want to be full you have to be patient.”
You lay your head back down on your folded hands, and let out a deep breath, closing your eyes in an attempt to focus on the feeling of the plug teasing your ass. It was only a few more in’s and out’s before your ass accepted the plug, sucking it in allowing you to let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of being so deliciously full.
“There you go sweetheart,” Harry smiles tapping the rose at the end of the plug, the vibrations it sent through you making you let out a deep groan. “What do we say?” he prompts, spanking each of your cheeks.
“Thank you, Daddy,” you whine.
He massages your ass for a moment before a hand travels back down to your folds. “Even messier now, baby.” He leans down kissing your ass, teeth sinking into the flesh. “Such a good fucking girl. And so pretty, all plugged up.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome baby.” Harry chuckled darkly. He picks up rubbing the smooth leather across each cheek very lightly tapping it on each one. Just to prepare you for the sensation.
“You remember the rules about the paddle?” Harry asks, running it over your ass lightly. You nod your head, looking over your shoulder at him, “Tell me.”
“Count each one, and say thank you after.” you
“Good girl.” He smiles proudly. “How many do you think you deserve?”
“Ummm -” you nibble on your lip, trying your hardest to think straight. “Ten?”
“That’s adorable, baby…You’re getting twenty.”
You groan, burrowing your face into the sheets. Squirming in his lap, earning another harsh spank.
“Twenty-five.” Harry amends sternly.
“Wha - why?!” you mumble
“Ten for not wearing panties. Ten for not telling me how needy your greedy little pussy was tonight. And five because you won’t stop squirming after I’ve already warned you twice, Lovie.”
You let out a little moan but nod your head. It seemed fair, but it was gonna push your limits, as it’s five more than you’ve ever done. But you could do it, and you’ll probably enjoy it more than you should.
“Got it?”
“Yes, Daddy.” you confirm.
“Good girl. What’s your color?”
“I’m Green.”
“Alright. I’m going to start, now okay?” Harry warns, and you give him a nod.
The first one lands on your right cheek hard. Harder than you anticipated, and it makes you cross your legs.
“One! Thank you.” you wince.
“No,no.” He says prying your legs open open again, landing a light spank onto your drenched folds. “Keep them open.” Harry warns, massaging the warmth of your cheek before giving you the next strike.
“Two. Thank you.”
The strikes continue just like that. The paddle makes contact, alternating between cheeks, you count and give thanks. While he massages between each one. Some come in quick succession. Some are spaced out, making you moan in anticipation. There’s no real pattern and it keeps you on edge in the best way.
“Twenty. Thank you sir” you whimper, looking over your shoulder. Hoping maybe he’d forget about the last five if he saw you. There’s a few tears now, not so much from the pain of the paddle, just…everything. With each strike of the paddle, the plug jiggles giving you a pleasure so deep you can’t describe. You're desperate and so floaty, deep in subspace and more than anything you just really want to cum!. You just want it to get to the reward part of the night. But you are a good girl, so you stayed still, took your punishment, opting for a tight grip on the sheets rather than squirming around in Harry’s lap.
“Good girl. Baby. You're doing such a good job taking your punishment. So good for me, baby.” He praises, soothing the warm skin with his large palm. “What’s your color?” He checks in, when he sees your eyes glass and teary.
“I’m still green,” you whisper
“Okay. Turn around, we’re almost done.”
He doles out the rest of your spanks quickly, not giving you much time to count. But you try your best anyway.
“Twenty five. Thank you sir.” you sigh, letting out a deep breath
“Good girl!” He praises. He tosses the paddle to the side, pulling you up to have you sitting in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He places a hand protectively at the back of your neck making you look up at him. He’s smiling like an idiot, so proud of you and you can’t help but crack a smile just as proud of yourself for taking your punishment so well.
He nods between you towards his right thigh “Look at that baby.” you look down seeing a dark spot on his jeans. Your brows knit together, before your eyes meet Harry’s again, “That’s you, baby.”
“Oh.” you mumble a little embarrassed. “Sorry.” You whisper trying to bury yourself into his neck but he stops squeezing your cheeks together with one hand, forcing your eyes on his.
“Nothing to be sorry about. You just need Daddy to make the aching go away, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” you pout trying to grind your hips down into him, but Harry stops you, with a firm hand on your hip.
“Yeah, I know.” he takes the hand squishing your cheeks, snaking it down between the two of you pinching your already clamped nipple once before his fingers finally - finally make contact with your folds. You moan out. Resting your head on Harry’s shoulder, burying your face in his neck, as his hand travels up and down your folds, spreading your wetness.His free arm, secured around your waist, holding you upright.
Harry turns his head, lips pressed against your ear,“There you go baby. That feels so good hm? You like my fingers on your clit.” his fingers slow to a stop, not satisfied with your lack of response, subspace or not, “Talk to Daddy, Love.”
“Yes! So much. It’s so good -”
“Eyes on me,” he demanded, pulling your face out of his neck, trying your best to keep your eyes open, as he worked his magic on your clit. As soon as your eyes meet his, he sinks his middle finger inside. The coolness of his rings against your folds makes you shiver. He works it in for a moment before selfishly adding his ring finger into the mix. You both groan as your pussy greedily accepts a second finger. “Fuck baby, you’re suckin’ me in.” He leans forward sucking on your neck. Nibbling on your ear as he pumps faster. Curling them just right, “that feel good?”
“Mhmm. Oh, fuck,” you wine gripping ong his shoulder a hand in his hair tugging the way you know he likes. The way you’ve been craving all night.
You’re already so full. The plug was still firmly placed in ass, sitting heavy as you sat straddling him, his thumb working on your clit…it was almost too much! You were right on the edge of ecstasy when Harry inserted yet a third finger, methodically working on your G-spot.
“Shit! Daddy, I’m -” you cry out, looking down at his fingers going in and out of you, and the sight alone is enough to send you over the edge. Everything was catching up to you now, Harry’s fingers stuffing your pussy, the plug snug in your ass, the clamps tight on your nipples. You just needed one more thing.
“I want you to cum on my fingers baby,okay? Be good and show me how good it feels, and fucking come on my fingers.” The groan you let out is almost too raw, one of pure ecstasy. Then he says the thing that just about sends you over the edge. “Come on, my rings baby.”
“Daddy….” you whine,you were so close. So so close but you didn’t want it like this. You want to feel Harry. All of him. “No.” You whimper, causing him to pull away slightly, to get a good look at you.
“No? You don’t want to come baby? Since when does my greedy girl not want to cum?” He doesn’t slow his fingers, while his eyes bore into you. Not at all. They speed up, and curl them even more, stroking and prodigy at your G-spot, coaxing you closer and closer.
“Want….cock. Wanna cum on your cock.” You pout trying so hard not to come. And surprisingly you were doing a good job at it. You were historically terrible at holding your orgasms, but tonight seemed to be all about pushing your limits.
Harry smirks, leaning forward sucking your bottom lip in his mouth nibbling on it hard. He’s so hungry for you. Desperate almost. He has to see you come. He craves it.
“You will. Don’t worry.” He gives you another quick peck, “I’ll let you come on my cock. But you gotta give me what I want first. Okay? Gotta be good and come on my fingers first, then I’ll give you what you want.” You whine some more, leaning forward wrapping your arms around Harry tighter, still holding back. He can feel how tense you are, you’ve always been a stubborn girl, even when it’s not in your own best interests, it makes him smirk, a bit before he doubles his efforts on your clit.
“I promise. Baby Girl. Just let go. Show me your a good girl, come on.” He pulls you out of his neck again, hand on your cheek forcing you to look at him. “Let go. I got you. I got you-“ and just like that you're coming in a bright white light, ringing in your ears, and gushing all over Harry’s fingers, with those emerald eyes looking deep into your soul. He feels it too, feels your pussy convulses and gushes around his fingers. Your body tightens up before going completely lax in his lap. “Good fucking girl. There she is. Oh baby there you go so good for me.” You let out a groan unlike anything you’ve ever done before. Gripping at his hair and grinding down on his fingers and your pussy convulses and gushes, around his fingers.He slows them down before slowly withdrawing, tapping your clit softly a few times, for good measure. He brings his hands up to his lips, making a show of licking his fingers clean, before his hand goes back down between your legs, cupping your pussy, reveling in the feeling of it still pulsating with aftershocks as you try to catch your breath.
“Than-thank you Daddy” you hiccup. Kissing his neck.
“Your welcome, baby. You okay?” he asks, and you nod against his shoulder. “Look at me, please baby.” you do as you're told, though finding it difficult to keep your eyes open. “Good baby.” He leans forward kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips, and it drives you mad. “Hold onto me.” He demands sweetly. You adjust yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Harry stands up and turns. Setting you back on your feet allows the back of your knees to hit the mattress.
“Lay back on the pillows, for me?” he asks sweetly, with a kiss on your forehead. You nod eagerly, crawling up on the bed, laying out knees bent and feet flat.
Harry’s cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you. He knee walks his way up the bed. Laying on his stomach, his face level with your pussy, kissing down your thighs, making your breath hitch. You roll your hips up at his hot breath fanning over your wet sensitive lips and Harry smiles.
“Need something?” he chuckles. You open your mouth,closing it quickly, debating on if you want to reveal just how greedy you’re feeling. “Baby…” he prompts, and you give in.
“Mouth. Please?” you whisper, giving your best doe eyes.
“I thought you wanted my cock? Begged for it.”
“That too!” you rush out with a pout.
“I’m only teasing,Lovie,” Harry chuckles, “My greedy girl. Got my fingers now you want both my mouth and cock.” You cover your face, and attempt to close your legs, but fail. Harry kisses up your body, removing your hands from your face, placing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry baby. I’m gonna give them to you. Punishment is all over. Now I just wanna play with my girl. Give you everything you want. Do you know why?”
“Because I deserve it.” you recite with a smile, like you’ve done so many times before.
“That’s right. You deserve,” Harry kisses your right right cheek, “all the praise,” he kisses your left cheek, “and all the orgasms,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “because your my Good Girl.” he smile before finally locking his lips to yours in a deep kiss, letting out a groan when you get brave and dip your tongue into his mouth.
It’s always been the simple things with Harry that gets to you the most. The way he dresses, how gentle he was with you. The way his lips felt on yours, the way they worked down your neck, not to mention the little noises he makes when you make out with him, and grind up into his hips. It all drove you wild. Just as much as it drove him mad. He craved you like you did him. It was almost like you fed off of one another, the neediness, the pure carnal want for one another. You were perfect together.
Slowly Harry pulls away, kissing down your body, nibbling playfully as he goes until he is situated back between your thighs. Harry reaches for one of your hands at your side, placing your hand in his hair, lacing the other with his. He kisses each thigh, before kissing the top of your mound. He taps on the plug reminding you it’s still there.
“Are you still okay with this in? It’s not uncomfortable?” he asks,and you shake your head.
“No.” you mumble, shaking your hand, “I like it. Feel full.”
“I know.” He leans in lightly kissing your clit. “You have the prettiest pussy baby. You know that? ‘S gorgeous. Could live right here. Between your beautiful thick thighs.”
You let out a whine rolling your hips up impatiently, and Harry jerks his head away, giving you a knowing look, “Sorry. I’ll be still I’m sorry.”
“Good girl.” Harry smiles, kissing your clit lightly once more before finally - finally delving in. Like a starved man, Harry is lapping at your folds up and down the length of your pussy before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Creating a light suction, almost pulsating it, and flicking over it gently with his tongue.
You were in complete bliss, with the way he was eating you out, you’d come in no time, much to Harry’s delight.
“Oh god -” you sigh out, gripping his hair tighter, pulling his face closer to you by the back of his head. “More - please.” If you weren’t feeling as amazing as you were you’d be embarrassed by how desperate you sound.
“That’s my girl!” He moans against you. “Take what you need,Love.” His free hand moves to the plug, slowly pulling it out a tad before pushing it back it fucking you with the toy. All while his mouth kept a vacuum seal around your pussy.
“Daddy…”
“Come on my tongue baby.” He encourages. “Come on baby. Show me how good it feels sweetheart.” He groans right into your pussy as you pull at his scalp, he shakes his head back and forth, the friction and vibration, driving you wild.
It’s filthy and messy and it feels unreal. Before you have a chance to savor the feeling, you're coming in a rush, the coil in your lower belly snapping as you come on Harry’s tongue as requested, body tingling from the sensation.
Harry brings his licks to a slow stop, giving your pussy one final peck, making you shiver. He kisses his way up your body, and you're quick to bring him right back up to your face tasting yourself on his lips.
“Good girl, lovie.” He growls against your lips, “Fuck.” He pins the hand that he’s kept intertwined with his above your head, taking a hold of your other one and doing the same. He works his way down your neck nibbling and sucking on your favorite spot.
When he finally finishes his assault on your neck, he looks down at you to see. Your eyes have gone glassy again, this time, with tears brimming your eyes. He always seems to manage to bring you to tears. It only happens when you’ve been particularly needed, and he makes you feel especially good, but he’s always proud of himself when he can make it happen.
“Oh baby,” He sighs, leaning his weight on your hips grinding into yours. “That felt so good didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” you nod.
“I know, baby. Your body’s just so sensitive, huh?” He punctuates it with a pull of the nipple clamp chain you’d nearly forgotten about..
“Yeah Daddy, so sensitive. It’s -I-”
“Shhh I know baby it’s a lot. I’m here tho okay. You're safe. Your okay.” He leans down, kissing you again, not as deep, trying to bring you back up a bit before he continues. He ends the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, rubbing his nose against yours. “What’s your color baby?” he asks.
“Green.” you smile at him, rolling your hips up into his.
“You still want to come on my cock?”
“Yes please Daddy please please please,” you beg, only a little embarrassed.
“Okay. I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so patient.” So have I. Harry thinks.
He lets your wrist go and they instantly tangle in his curls once more, forcing his lips down onto yours. You snake a hand down and attempt to fumble with the buckle of his jeans. “Off. Feel” you mumble between kisses.
“You wanna feel me against you?” he asks, and you nod your head fervently. You loved the feeling of being skin to skin with Harry, you’d never feel closer to him than when you were skin to skin. He manuvores his jeans down and you're happily met with the feeling of him pressed against your folds. Making you both groan out.
“That Better?” he smirks and you smile
“Much.” you smile. Harry reaches for the plug, and begins to tug at it. But you stop him with a whine in protest, “No. Wanna be full.”
“You wanna be fucked with the plug?” He double checks. But by the pout on your lips, he knows you mean it. “Filthy girl.” he smirks, “Alright. I’ll leave it okay?” He’s never fucked you with the plug in, the thought’s been floating around your head for a while, and with how needy you were, you figured tonight would be the perfect night to try.
Harry leans down kissing you with his hard leaking cock in one hand the other cradling your cheek in the other, as he runs the head up and down your folds a few times. He revels in the feeling for as long as you let him, before breaching just the tip inside of your pussy. It’s a tighter fit than usual with the plug still inside, and it takes both of you back. You gasp, a good gasp but he feels you tighten even more.
“Shhh baby relax,” he kisses you all over your face. “You gotta breathe for me, okay?” You nod and let out a breath as he slowly enters you, until he’s fully inside. “Oh good girl. Shit baby. You’re so full, huh?” He groans, kissing your cheek.
“Yeah you squeak oh, so. I’ve never -”
“I know, baby. Oh fuck. I’m just gonna stay like this till you tell me to move okay.” He says as he moves into your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin there.
After a few moments of Harry sucking onto your neck, you begin to roll your hips up into his, grinding down on his cock, drawing out deep groans from the both of you. He takes it as a sign that you're ready, that you can take him and so he begins to rock his hips with deep shallow thrusts. It allows you to and you relish at the fullness of both Harry’s cock and the pink rose plug. The pleasure is almost too much, it’s got your whole body tingling, and warm.
“Good girl baby. Taking it so well. Fuck.” he growls, leaning his forhead on yours. He slowly draws his hip back further and further before diving back in.
“Harder.” you whine, and Harry grants your request, fucking you harder into the materss, holding onto your hips tight as he pounded into you.
“You feel so good baby, you know that? Do you know how good you make Daddy feel, baby?” he urges. “Your pussy’s like heaven to me baby.” He groans looking, with nothing but love and adoration.
“Gonna come Daddy!”
He picks up his pace, fucking you hard, and fast. The only thing in the room being heard is the sound of skin against wet skin, and your carnal moans. Your fingers in his hair, pulling at the strands as you get closer and closer to the edge once more, before your coming undone again, convulsing under him.
“Atta Girl! Good job baby,"Harry smiles, kissing you passionately, “give me one more.”
“Can’t,” you moan. You’re so sensitive, you feel amazing, but you have no idea how much more you can take. But as Harry grinds down into you, a hand snaking down to your clit, you can feel yourself, getting closer and closer. You don’t think you can stop it. “Can’t Daddy. I- oh god.” Your whole body was a light, as you felt your peak approaching again quickly, gripping onto Harry’s shoulders, holding him to you as you buried yourself in his neck.
“Yes you can,” Harry groans, “Can feel you squeezing me, your pussy’s begging for it. Come for me baby. Come on my cock, like you wanted to,” he caresses your face in one hand, getting your attention, your eyes open to look right at him, “Show me.”
You open your mouth trying to speak, but the words escape you, too wrapped up in the pleasure, But Harry, ever the attentive boyfriend, knows what you were trying to say. to speak but can’t get the words out but he knows what you were trying to say. “You can do it, Baby Girl. Come for me. Give me one more, and let Daddy fill up your pretty pussy. Give it to me baby, so I can give you your come.”
///Your/// come. Yours. That’s what does it for you. It’s what always does it for both of you. The ownership. Because he was just as much yours and you were his. Including orgasms. And just like that you come in a bright white light, ringing in your ears, and tears in your eyes. Loud, and hard, whining in Harry’s ear, writhing underneath him, holding onto him with all your might.
“Good fucking girl. Oh fuck. There you go.” He growls into your ear, before crashing his lips down to yours. “Fuck, baby. You’re going to make me come.”
“Please” you whine holding his face, looking at him deep in those emerald eyes. “ Give it to me, please.” And he’s a goner. Eyes rolled back, body tensing, and thrust going sloppy as he spurts white ropes, painting your walls. And you relish the feeling.
Harry collapses on top of you, burying his face into your neck, kissing and nibbling, giving you praise as you both tried to catch your breath. When he feels that your heart has stopped beating as fast, and he feels himself softening inside of you is when he decides it’s time to pull out. But you resist, tightening your legs around his hips, the hand that’s made its way into his hair tightening.
“Not yet please.” you request with a pout.
“Okay. Okay I’ll stay.” He whispers kissing across your collarbone. “Just a bit longer.”
After enough time has passed, Harry looks up at you, “You with me?” he asks. You hum, eyes closed dopey grin on your lips and he can tell that you’re still in that floaty place, maybe not as deep but you definitely weren’t fully present.
“Daddy…” you whine just above a whisper.
“S’ just Harry baby. Just me.” You pout. You didn’t want to be done, but a look at the clock on your nightstand tells you you've been at it for a while so you try and tell yourself to come back to earth. “You’re okay. I’m here. Hey look at me.” he urges, bringing a hand to your face, “Your safe okay. I’m gonna pull out now and take out the plug and then we’ll get all cleaned up okay?”
“Okay.” you smile. You whine when he pulls out but he soothes you with a kiss to your forehead and a promise of returning soon.
He’s back in a flash with a warm damp cloth and some tissues. “You still feelin’ a little floaty huh, baby?” He smirks as he cleans you up.
“Yeah.”
“That’s okay. Just let me take care of you okay?” you nod and he goes to work on cleaning the mess between your legs. “You did so well tonight baby. Took everything so well. You're my best girl, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s right. He reaches for the plug.
“You gotta relax for me. Gotta get this guy out of ya. Take a break out for me.” he instructs, taking it out slowly before placing it on the nightstand on the tissue. He kisses your inner thigh before kissing his way up your body. “Wrap around me.” he instructs, and you do as you're told, wrapping your arms around him, as he lifts you up and walks you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet. “Go on. You know the drill.” he chuckles when you look at him shyly. He turns to the bath, giving you privacy to pee, as he runs the bath. Adding all your smell, good scents and bubbles.
By the type you're all bathed, dried and back in bed, you seem much more like yourself.
“You feeling good?” He asks.
“So good.” you chuckle, “Thank you Harry. I really needed that.”
Harry laughs and kisses your temple, “I could tell. But you never have to thank me for giving you pleasure. It’s an honor to give it to you.”
You feel your face heat up, as you shake your head and burrow yourself into the softness of his chest.”
“Still. I- you always make me feel good and idk I want you to know I love you and I appreciate you making me feel good. Even when I’m getting punished.”
“Love you too, Baby Love.”
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joelslastofus · 7 months ago
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[SUMMARY: Joel helps out Tommy’s pregnant girlfriend while he’s in jail while secretly having feelings for her.]
Drama fluff
PART TWO
“Don’t work yourself up, darlin’. Any man would be stupid to not appreciate you growin’ a baby for em…be stupid to not want a family with you…” he looked down at you as you looked up into his brown eyes.
A few months had passed now as your belly grew…three months to be exact. Due to complications with his case Tommy had not been released yet, Joel would drive you to visit him every week. He only did it because he didn’t want you traveling alone, he never felt his brother deserved it. After todays sonogram you had planned to visit him. You always felt conflicted when going to visit him wishing things were different.
Joel stood beside you as a new doctor entered the room to perform the sonogram.
“Where is Dr.Edwards?” You asked a bit anxious only wanting to be treated by those you were familiar with.
“He had an emergency today so I’ll be taking care of his patients, how are we feeling today?” He asked with a warm smile.
“Good, a lot of kicking” you lay back staring at the ceiling as Joel stood beside you looking down at you. As the months had passed you and Joel had grown very close. You appreciated his time and care for you, you always wished Tommy was more like his older brother. The doctor went and placed the cold gel on your belly and proceeded to move his hand around getting a good look.
“Oh yeah look at that, he’s dancing around in there” the doctor laughed looking at the screen.
“Yes,it’s all especially at bed time” you sighed with a chuckle.
“And he’s a big boy, I could see-“ the doctor continued pointing at the screen.
“He’s going to be tall like daddy” the doctor pointed at Joel beside you. The both of you froze not knowing what to say..
“Um-he-“ you decided to not even bother as the doctor became distracted by the screen and let it be. Joel held back a chuckle as he lightly chewed on his bottom lip.
Every sonogram appointment was bittersweet, you loved seeing your son moving around but it broke your heart that Tommy wasn’t enjoying any of this with you.
“Everything looks great, I’ll see you back in three weeks" the doctor stopped before you and pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose looking at you and Joel.
"I assume dad is helping you around the house-“ he looked at Joel making you blush in embarrassment.
“Don’t let her overwork herself, that’s a big boy she’s carrying” he teased before rubbing your shoulder.
“Take care of yourselves” the doctor chuckled as he walked out leaving you and Joel awkwardly alone.
Not knowing what to say you simply allowed Joel to help you off the bed and walked out with him.
“Sorry about that” you suddenly spoke as you walked beside him to his truck.
“For what?”
“The doctor…you know…the dad stuff..” he opened the car door for you with a shrug.
“That don’t bother me, darlin’. I can play along” he winked at you making you look down with a smile.
“Well seriously, I'm so grateful with how helpful you have been with me, Joel…you don’t have to do any of this,”
“Hey…that’s my nephew you’re carrying, course I’m gonna help” he gave you his arm to hold to get in the car and closed the door.
“What would I do without you, Joel” you whispered to yourself watching him walk around the car to the drivers seat. You had no idea the true thoughts going through his mind.
Joel drove beside you looking over at you as you looked out the window. Every week you visited Tommy while carrying his growing son inside of you, and he never seemed appreciative of anything you did. Joel hated seeing it..
“I have the sonograms to give to Tommy so he can see how big our boy is” you smiled looking down at the photos as he peaked at them while driving.
“Do you think he’ll be happy to see?” You looked over at Joel noticing he seemed a bit upset.
“What’s wrong?” He quickly changed his expression and shook his head.
“Nothin’, just trynna get there”
“I’m sorry” you sighed.
“I don’t mean to bore you with all of this baby talk, it’s just-“
“Don’t you apologize honey, ya ain’t borin’ me” he assured you as he drove, finally arriving to the place.
Joel entered with you, standing beside you as you gave your information to see Tommy.
“Uh, Tommy Miller is no longer available for visits until further notice-“
“Excuse me?” Joel took a step forward beside you.
“What? What do you mean?” You asked confused.
“Yesterday evening he was involved in an altercation and lost visiting privileges” the officer explained.
“What?” Your heart beginning to race as anxiety took over and Joel could see it. Something didn’t sound right but what the hell did you know how any of this shit worked.
“What altercation? Is he ok?”
“We have no further information on the situation mam, you will have to call his-“
“No! I would like to see if he’s ok!” You began to scream before feeling Joel delicately pull you away from the window.
“Who can I speak to about this that can give us more information now” Joel asked directly.
“As I told the lady, Sir, you will have to call in the morning-“
“Is he alright?” Joel asked making the officer narrow his eyes on him.
“Please man just give her that…she’s pregnant for Gods sake” the officer took one look at you and gave in.
“He’s fine, he’s the one that did the damage. He has no access to visitors or phone calls until further notice”
“Shit” you whispered in a cry placing your hand on your forehead and turning away.
“Does he know?” You asked hoping maybe there would be a message Tommy had for you.
“Yes he does” the officer responded.
“How long is it gonna be like this?” You quickly asked before leaving.
“Could be a few months, all depends on how he behaves” pressing your lips together you walked out as fast as you could in disbelief.
“Hey” Joel called out to you catching up with you just as you got to the truck.
“Hey, easy-“
“How could he be so stupid!” You screamed slamming your hand on the truck.
“Try to relax-“
“I am six months pregnant, Joel! A few months I can’t see him or speak directly to him? I am due in November! It’s enough he can’t be here..What if-“
“Look at me” Joel unexpectedly grabbed your face.
“I will call tomorrow morning and see what I find out, I need you to stay calm until then. Can ya do that for me?” You sighed and slowly nodded.
“Now let’s go back to my place, dinner on me. Whatever you and little man are in the mood for alright?”
You chuckled softly, Joel was always trying to make you laugh.
“Sounds good” you whispered although he could see the clear concern in your eyes before he helped you in the truck.
The whole ride to his house he watched as you silently cried through the reflection of the window. You wouldn’t turn his way, you wouldn’t speak, he hated Tommy for this. All his brother did was hurt you time after time with no sense of remorse.
Once arriving at the house Sarah greeted you excitedly rubbing your belly with a grin.
“How’s my cousin doing?”
“Good, killing my back” you smiled softly but Sarah could tell you were upset and trying to hide it. Your eyes were puffy, it was obvious you had been crying. Joel ordered dinner and the three of you sat together as you silently ate. Silently he kept looking up at you with concern before Sarah finally spoke.
“So are you staying here tonight?”
Joel eagerly waited for you to respond.
“I think you should” she continued.
“I…-“
“You know, Tommy’s room is just gonna be empty for a while. You could stay there so if you need anything we’ll be close by”
Joel suggested, the thought was tempting yet you felt you were being helped enough to now move in.
“Joel, you’ve done enough for me I can’t-“
“Sarah and I would feel better if you stayed close, with the baby’s due date gettin’ closer and all…” he insisted, you sighed looking down. The idea didn’t sound bad at all yet the thought of staying alone in Tommy’s empty room depressed you.
“I suppose…just for some time”
Joel smiled in relief feeling better with you staying with him.
The days went on and still there was no call from Tommy. Joel trying to get through multiple times would only end up going in circles yet you appreciated how much he tried for you.
Three in the morning and you couldn’t sleep you found yourself standing in the kitchen eating ice cream. Staring into space thinking about the reality of the situation when Joel walked into the kitchen.
“Oh-I’m sorry if I woke you” you looked a bit embarrassed as he shook his head assuring you he had been awake. He stared at you for a moment and couldn’t help but smirk.
“What?” You raised a brow only causing him to chuckle.
“You’re laughing at me?”
“No mam” he quickly shook his head.
His eyes tracing over your swollen belly as you stood in the kitchen barefoot in a night gown eating ice cream out of the container.
“You just…you look beautiful…” your eyes slightly widened not expecting his compliment.
“Oh, well..thank you..”you blushed quickly putting away the ice cream.
“Was just craving some chocolate” you chuckled.
“Did you get your fix?” He asked with a tilt of his head.
“Yes, I think he liked it too” you laughed as you rubbed your belly.
“Stay right there” Joel unexpectedly grabbed something out of the cabinet.
“What?” You whispered as he pulled out a Polaroid camera.
“A picture?” you raised a brow.
“A picture of you pregnant, why not?” You smiled looking down, you realized you hadn’t taken any photos of yourself pregnant. With a silent nod you stood against the wall, holding your belly with a smile. Joel took a step back taking the photo, his eyes still on you as he bought the camera down.
“You think that came out ok?”
“Perfect” he whispered just as you noticeably winced.
“Movin’ a lot?” Joel asked taking a step forward.
“Yes, it’s always around the same time he’s more hyper than others, do you wanna feel?” You stepped forward taking a hold of Joel’s hand and placed it on the spot you usually felt him in. Joel awkwardly stood still as you held his hand, a few seconds passed and you felt the baby moving again.
“Jesus..” he whispered with a smile. Your hand softly placed over his large hand as he continued to feel the baby move.
“He does move a lot” Joel uttered as he looked down at your belly.
“Was Sarah like this when her mother was pregnant?” You noticed his expression slightly change at the mention of Sarah’s mother as he looked up. Slowly releasing his hand he took a step back.
“That’s kind of a blur to me, if I’m being honest. Her mother didn’t enjoy being pregnant, she realized a little too late that it wasn’t something she wanted.” You had never heard what happened to Sarahs mother, nor did you ever ask but you were always curious.
“So….she just left?” You whispered hesitantly as he cleared his throat and leaned back on the counter.
“Mhm”
You raised your brows in silence.
“How old was Sarah when she left?”
“Four months old”
“Oh wow, I’m so sorry, Joel” you responded.
“I ain’t, it was better for Sarah” you nodded in response, you knew he was a great father.
“It’s a shame…” you whispered.
“When a parent doesn’t…doesn’t prioritize their baby..” you swallowed trying to fight back tears.
“Tommy knew what would happen if he started anything there, he knew I wouldn’t be able to see him. He doesn’t care about the risks he takes knowing I’m pregnant” you whispered.
“I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s always been like this. I just…I guess a part of me hoped this would help him change” you quickly wiped away a tear as you cradled your belly.
“How stupid of me to think that it would-“
“Hey, Tommy’s the stupid one” he quickly interrupted.
“I just wanted a happy family with him” you began to cry as Joel took a step forward.
“C’mere” he placed an arm around you, his chin leaning on your head.
“Don’t work yourself up, darlin’. Any man would be stupid to not appreciate you growing a baby for em…be stupid to not want a family with you…” he looked down at you as you looked up into his brown eyes. Gently he wiped your tears away with his thumb when he noticed you looking at his lips. Unexpectedly you tip toed and kissed him, he didn’t move in shock. A second later he kissed you passionately before you abruptly pulled away.
“Oh my god-“ you gasped.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I-I’m sorry” you quickly ran to your room in shock.
“Wait-“ he called out to you but you didn’t listen.
Closing the door shut, your hand on your lips you couldn’t believe what you had just done.
Tommy’s brother? How could you be so stupid? The feel of guilt heavy in your chest, never had you betrayed Tommy this way.
Joel stood in the kitchen alone replaying in his mind what had just happened. Something he had wanted to do for so long yet didn’t expect in that moment…
The next day you woke up earlier than Joel and planned to take a cab to work. Sarah, who was always an early bird watched on confused as you grabbed your bag before looking at the time.
“Are you gonna wait for dad to take you?” She asked as you rushed to the door.
“No, I start earlier today. I’ll see you later, have a great day” You left the house before Joel’s alarm woke him.
Joel came down the stairs pulling down his shirt expecting to see you having breakfast with Sarah, expecting to speak to you once she left for school.
“Where’s y/n?” He asked curiously as Sarah ate her scrambled eggs.
“She said she started earlier today that she didn’t need the ride” Joel remained silent looking away.
During the early afternoon you had received a call that Tommy would be allowed visits. You didn’t know how to feel, Tommy had cheated on you many times in the past yet this somehow felt worse because he didn’t expect it from you.
Joel had thought about you all day, even calling your cell but never got an answer. Once you returned you hoped Joel wasn’t home yet there he was on the couch beside Sarah waiting for your return. Once you walked through the door he quickly stood up, yet you couldn’t speak. Walking into the kitchen you could hear his steps following behind, before he could say a word you spoke.
“They’re letting Tommy accept visits now” you blurt out making him stop in his tracks. You couldn’t even look him in the eye as you took a deep breath.
“I’m going to see him today-“
“I’ll take you,” Joel responded quickly.
“No, I…you shouldn’t” you whispered.
“I ain’t lettin’ you go out there alone” he took a step forward.
“I been worried about you all damn day, let me take you” he insisted, silently you gave in.
Neither of you said a word as he drove to the prison. Your stomach turning, your heart in your throat as you sat beside Joel waiting to see Tommy.
Confusion wasn’t the word.
Yesterday wasn’t right, you knew it wasn’t…yet you couldn’t get the feel of his damn lips out of your mind. Joel kept looking over at you itching to say something about the night before but he didn’t know how.
“You alright?” He asked with a deep breath.
“I-“
“Look about last night” he quickly interrupted.
“Don’t” you whispered.
“I don’t know what got into me. My hormones, my mind…I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry” you still couldn’t look at him blaming it on anything you could think of.
“Ya don’t gotta apologize” Joel responded, he wanted it more than you knew.
“Just leave it” you shook your head as he pulled into the parking area.
There was Tommy on the other side of the glass in his orange jumpsuit. He looked angry grabbing the phone as you slowly sat before him.
“Tommy-“
“What the hell was so important that you needed to come today” Joel instantly leaned forward beside you like a body guard on watch.
“She was worried about you Tommy”
“Well as you can see I’m fine right? And you,” he looked at Joel.
“Stop giving her damn rides over here” you looked at him in shock.
“You don’t want to see me” you whispered as felt a knot in your throat.
“For what? There’s no point” he bluntly responded. The sound in his voice, the words he used broke your heart. Pressing your lips together you hung up the phone and walked out as Joel looked down at his brother angrily and grabbed the phone.
“You always gotta be an ass huh”
“She’ll get over it” Tommy shrugged.
Joel flared his nostrils taking a deep breath, it was by luck that his brother was behind a glass in that moment.
Joel walked out to find you sitting in the truck looking down. You didn’t move as he got in, he himself not knowing what to say. Joel drove constantly looking over at you to make sure you were ok, you had remained silent staring into space.
“Look, Tommy is-“
“I don’t wanna hear it, I don’t care to” you looked straight ahead as he nodded and respected your wishes.
Walking inside his home you walked quickly to Tommy’s bedroom and decided to pack your belongings. Joel hesitantly following you inside until he noticed you throw your open luggage on the bed.
“What are you doin’?” he asked with furrowed brows as you began to pack.
“Going back home” you whispered without looking up.
“No-why? Look Tommy got nothin’ to do with me wantin’ to help-“
“Forget Tommy!” You screamed unexpectedly.
“I don’t need him” you continued moving back and forth grabbing your belongings from the closet.
“Look, you’re upset right now and I understand-“
“You really don’t understand so leave me alone” Joel pressed his lips together, the thought of you leaving and staying alone towards the end of your pregnancy all because of Tommy didn’t feel right to him.
“Don’t-“ he caught your arm stopping you from packing more clothes away.
“Let go of me, Joel” you whispered.
“No” he could tell you were holding back tears, holding back anger.
“Let go!” You screamed failing to pull your arms back. A part of you not wanting him to let you go but you felt leaving was the smart thing to do. After the kiss…you knew it wasn’t best for you to stay.
“Tommy doesn’t care about me or this baby-“
“Well I do, dammit” he almost yelled.
“Stop it” you shook your head as you began to cry, he wasn’t making this any easier.
“You’re his brother, I am pregnant with his baby and I kissed you and-“
“That’s why you wanna leave?” He whispered leaning closer towards you. The feelings you felt overflowing inside you, resentment and anger towards Tommy…yet safe with Joel. Maybe it was more than just safety with Joel…the kissed you both shared still heavy on your mind...
“I kissed you and-“
“I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about it since it happened” he admitted in a whisper, taking the words right out of your mouth.
“And you still think it’s right for me to stay?”
“I want you to” he insisted just as you both heard the door open and Sarah walked in.
“Dad? What’s going on?” Joel quickly let go of you as Sarah looked at all your stuff on the bed.
“You’re leaving?” She asked with concern.
“I-“
“Please don’t go, I really like when you’re here” Sarah made you smile with her words.
“I’m not going anywhere” you assured her.
“Did you see Uncle Tommy?”
You swallowed anxiously as your smile vanished.
“How about we get ready for dinner” Joel interrupted. She agreed not pushing the topic and left back to the living room.
Sitting at the table in silence Sarah stared back between you and her father. She knew something was off, she knew her father very well.
“So how was everyone’s day?” She asked making you look up.
“Good, how was school?”
“Yeah, how was that test you had?” Her father looked over at her.
“Aced it” she smiled.
“That’s my girl” Joel grinned before continuing to eat his food.
Once dinner was finished your proceeded to get up and collect the dishes.
“I’ll start washing these”
“How about you sit back and put those feet up, I think you’ve done enough today” Joel took the dishes out of your hands and walked to the kitchen. Sarah raised her brows holding in a chuckle.
“My dads not gonna let you lift a finger now that you’re staying here”
“Well, I appreciate that but I can still do things” you assured her before walking to the couch and laying back. Putting your feet up didn’t seem so bad, you sighed feeling the breeze from the window as your eyes began to close and you fell asleep.
An hour later you woke up a little confused not realizing you had fallen asleep. Joel was sitting on the couch beside you reading a book until he heard you move around.
“What time is it?”
“Eight thirty” he responded as you sighed.
“Geez,” Joel quickly stood up as you tried to push yourself up. Slowly he helped you up as you winced feeling an ache in your back.
“You alright?” He asked holding you steady.
“Yeah, I just need to walk” you assured him and slowly made your way to the kitchen rubbing your eyes. Leaning forward on the counter you held your lower back with one hand attempting to stretch your body in a way that would relieve the ache.
“My back has been killing me all day” you arched your back again attempting to relieve pressure when you suddenly felt Joel behind you, his hands pressing into your lower back.
“What are you doing?” You whispered awkwardly.
“Tryna help you”
“No, I don’t think-“ you attempted to turn back but Joel held you in place.
“Stay still, I know what I’m doin’. I promise I ain’t gonna try nothin’” he assured you assuming that was going through your head. Little did he know, it wasn’t the fear of him trying something, it was the thought of enjoying feeling his hands on you.
Leaning forward you closed your eyes as Joel worked his hands throughout your back. He sure did know how to work them, feeling the relief of pressure you moaned softly.
“Oh that feels…wonderful”
Joel smiled watching your body relax, your shoulders calmly drop as he continued to massage you.
He genuinely only wanted to make you feel comfortable knowing you had no one else to help you with this. Feeling you close was just a bonus for him.
“You’re the best” you whispered just as you both heard one of the bedroom doors open.
Sarah came out to see her father massaging your back as you awkwardly turned forward taking a deep breath.
“Hi Sarah”
She smiled as she walked into the kitchen and began to make herself a sandwich.
“I bet uncle Tommy is happy you’re getting help, I can’t imagine how scared he was with you alone” your smile dropped as Joel rubbed the back of his neck.
“Yeah” you responded softly.
“Well, I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’ll see you two in the morning” you walked past the both of them as Joel watched you walk into the bedroom. Sarah noticed just how her father kept his eyes on you but didn’t say a word yet she knew him well enough to know there was more she didn’t know about…
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httpvomitello · 14 days ago
Note
could you write something for fred weasley, where she is a ravenclaw a year younger than him.
set during the order of the phoenix
i just imagine him pining over her and she is completely clueless!!
thank you so much 💓
Owwn, that's sooo cute! I hope you like it ~ ♡♡
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Her Wit, His Heart *⁠.⁠✧
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Fred Weasley wasn’t used to being subtle. Subtlety wasn’t his style, nor was it George’s. Together, they thrived in chaos—big laughs, loud pranks, and cheeky grins that could charm anyone. But when it came to you, the Ravenclaw with a sharp wit and a knack for disappearing into books, Fred was completely out of his depth.
It started during his sixth year at Hogwarts, just after the Yule Ball. He’d spotted you sitting by the lake, scribbling in a notebook while everyone else was in the Great Hall. You’d looked serene, the light casting a soft glow on your face, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, Fred couldn’t look away.
From that moment on, you were everywhere in his mind—your quiet laugh, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were focused, your quick comebacks during classes that left even the professors impressed. Fred was smitten, but you? You didn’t seem to notice.
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The next year, with the return of the Order of the Phoenix and Umbridge’s suffocating reign at Hogwarts, Fred’s feelings for you only deepened. You were a year younger, busy with OWLs and your role as a prefect. Somehow, amidst the chaos of rebellion, studying, and secret meetings, Fred found himself looking for you at every opportunity.
“Oi, Fred,” George said one evening as they prepared for another Dumbledore’s Army meeting. “You’ve got that ridiculous look on your face again.”
Fred frowned, tossing a Dungbomb into his bag. “What look?”
“The one you get whenever she’s around,” George teased, smirking. “It’s pathetic, really.”
Fred tried to play it cool. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Oh, please,” George said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been pining after her for months. Why don’t you just tell her?”
Fred hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “She’s… different, George. She’s not like the others. And besides, she’s clueless. She probably doesn’t even know I exist.”
George snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re Fred Weasley. Everyone knows you exist. Just talk to her.”
Fred groaned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”
It wasn’t. Because you, brilliant and focused, seemed completely unaware of Fred’s attention. When he made jokes in the Great Hall, your laugh was polite but distracted. When he tried to help you in the library—“You don’t need that many books, love. I’ll carry a few for you.”—you thanked him absentmindedly before disappearing into the stacks.
Fred even tried showing off during Quidditch practice, pulling risky stunts that earned cheers from the stands, but your head was buried in a book.
“Clueless,” Fred muttered to himself as he landed his broom, shaking his head.
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The tipping point came during one of the Dumbledore’s Army meetings. You had joined after hearing about the group from Luna Lovegood, and Fred had never been more grateful for Harry Potter’s rebellious streak.
That night, the Room of Requirement was buzzing with energy. Fred watched as you stood at the back of the room, your wand poised as Hermione demonstrated a disarming spell. You were biting your lip in concentration, and Fred felt his heart do a ridiculous flip.
When it was time to practice, Fred saw his chance.
“Need a partner?” he asked, sidling up to you with his trademark grin.
You looked up, surprised. “Oh, Fred. Sure, if you don’t mind.”
Fred pretended to be casual, but his heart was racing. As you practiced the spell, he couldn’t help but admire how determined you were, how focused.
“You’re pretty good at this,” he said after you successfully disarmed him for the third time.
You gave him a small smile. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”
Fred laughed. “Not too bad? I’m brilliant, love.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, and Fred took it as a small victory.
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Over the weeks, Fred found more excuses to talk to you. He’d sit next to you during DA meetings, crack jokes to make you smile, and even sneak you sweets from Honeydukes.
But you remained oblivious, chalking up Fred’s attention to his usual charm and friendliness.
One evening, after a particularly intense DA session, Fred found you lingering in the Room of Requirement, studying your wand with a thoughtful expression.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, leaning against the wall.
You looked up, startled. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just… everything feels so serious lately.”
Fred nodded, his usual grin fading. “Yeah, it does.”
There was a pause, and then you added softly, “But it’s good to have this. To feel like we’re doing something that matters.”
Fred stared at you, his chest tightening. He wanted to tell you how much you mattered—to him, to this fight, to everything. But the words caught in his throat.
Instead, he said, “You’re amazing, you know that?”
You blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”
Fred rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I mean it. You’re brilliant and kind and… you’ve got this way of making everything seem less terrible. I don’t know how you do it.”
Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away. “Fred, I—”
Before you could finish, the door opened, and George poked his head in. “Oi, Fred! We’re leaving.”
Fred sighed, his moment ruined. “Be right there.”
As you gathered your things, Fred cursed himself for being such a coward.
It wasn’t until a week later, during a rare quiet evening in the library, that everything changed.
You were sitting at a table, surrounded by books, when Fred appeared, holding a chocolate frog.
“For you,” he said, sliding it across the table.
You looked up, puzzled. “Why?”
Fred hesitated, then said, “Because I like you, alright? And not in the ‘you’re my friend’ kind of way. I like you.”
You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish.
“I know,” Fred continued, his cheeks reddening. “You probably think I’m joking, but I’m not. I’ve liked you for ages, and I’m terrible at hiding it, and—”
“Fred.”
He stopped rambling, looking at you nervously.
“You like me?” you asked, as if you couldn’t quite believe it.
Fred nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
A slow smile spread across your face. “I… I think I like you too.”
Fred blinked. “You think?”
You laughed softly. “I’ve never thought about it before, but… yeah. I do.”
Fred grinned, his heart soaring. “Well, that’s a start.”
And as you shared your first kiss in the quiet corner of the library, Fred decided that all the pining had been worth it.
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katnisspeetaprim · 10 months ago
Text
How Did You end Up Here?
Platonic!Alastor/Reader
Summary: Alastor couldn't quite understand how someone like you ended up in Hell,so naturally he wanted find out. (I tried my best with this one. Sorry if it's bad!) Requests open!
Warnings: implied fem reader, platonic relationship, mentions of abusive relationship, mentions of murder.
Word Count: 1450 Hazbin M.list
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You hadn’t been in Hell long, but you were already getting used to your new home. Safe to say you were doing better than when you first arrived anyway.
Charlie had found you on your first day, cowering in an alley way. You’d be forever grateful to her for helping you that day, and introducing you to her hotel reform programme.
That’s how you met the radio demon, Alastor.
He was intrigued by you the second Charlie marched you through the front door. He stood back and observed as the hyperactive princess excitedly introduced you to everyone.
Alastor didn’t miss the way you curled in on yourself with a blush when everyone gathered round to greet you. You clearly didn’t like being centre of attention. He decided to step out of the shadows to introduce himself.
‘Oh Y/N this is Alastor! The hotel wouldn’t be possible without him!’
‘Oh you give me too much credit! But Y/N dear, charmed to meet you!’ You were taken aback by the strange man in front of you. His voice was off and the way he was grinning down at you was... unnerving.
‘Ummm nice to meet you.’ You looked away and played with your fingers nervously. ‘I’m new to Hell.’
‘Well I can see that my dear.’ He shrugged nonchalantly, before leaning down closer to you with a glint in his eye. ‘You seem very timid for a sinner I must say.’
You didn’t know if he was trying to taunt you or  if he was just stating a fact, because he was right after all.
‘Uh yeah, I guess...’ You trailed off with a nervous chuckle, not really wanting to get into your situation right now.
Sensing the change in atmosphere, Charlie quickly pushed her way between the two of you, stating that her and Vaggie were going to show you round. You sighed in relief, happy to follow the two women if it meant you were out of the spot light.
All the other residents went back to what they were doing before your arrival, all except Alastor that is.
He stared after you with slightly narrowed eyes. This could be interesting.
Over the next few weeks, you’d gotten used to the eccentric bunch of misfits that inhabited the hotel, even becoming friends with them, Alastor included.
The radio demon really wasn’t as scary as you first thought, he was arguably the person you had gotten closest to in the short time. You’d always been fascinated by old media when you were alive, so when you found out he was a radio hot back in the day, you couldn’t help but be curious.
Alastor was thrilled to have someone take an interest in his work and wasted no time taking you on a tour of his studio, something that the other residents couldn’t quite believe happened.
‘My dear you seem to be adjusting to Hell splendidly!’ Alastor approached you as you sat in the lounge, nursing a cup of tea.
‘Oh hi Alastor! Yeah, definitely not as scary as my first day.’ You smiled at him as you placed the cup down on the saucer.
‘Yes, much less like a shaking leaf now I must say.’ You laughed lightly and pushed some stray hair behind your ear.
‘Yeah well, all of you here helped with that.’ You smiled fondly, so grateful to your new friends.
Alastor knew your guard was down. Now would be a great opportunity to learn more about your story.
‘I couldn’t help but notice you’ve yet to leave the hotel alone, could that be something to do with how you ended up in Hell? If I may be so bold to ask.’ Alastor just asked you point blank, the signature grin never leaving his face.
Your own smile fell slightly at his question and you looked round uncomfortably, trying desperately to avoid eye contact, and making sure nobody was around to over hear.
Alastor was still grinning down at you, patiently waiting for your response.
‘Umm... Can we go somewhere private to talk?’ You wanted to finally open up to someone about your death, but that didn’t mean you wanted everyone to know all at once. Hopefully it would do you some good to get everything off your chest.
‘Why certainly! Follow me dear.’
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Alastor locked the door behind him and gestured for you to sit down on his furniture. As you looked round his room, you couldn’t help but notice that it was oddly normal. For someone as vivid as Alastor, you’d expected more personality to be in this room. Though, he does spend most of his time in his radio tower.
Aslastor sat opposite you and crossed his legs, placing the cane he was never seen without by his side.
‘I’m all ears my little doe.’ Alastor prodded for you to start talking.
‘well uh-‘ You picked at some loose thread at the hem of your skirt, still somewhat unsure of yourself. ‘I killed my boyfriend.’ You burst out suddenly, just wanting to get it out.
Alastor was a little taken back by your sudden confession, having been prepared to do some prodding before you finally said it but he quickly composed himself.
‘My that is surprising. I never would have pegged you as a killer.’ He shrugged his shoulders, before his eyes darkened and his smirk got somehow wider. ‘I should know.’
You shrunk back a little in your seat, unnerved by his sudden dark turn. You weren’t sure why you were so surprised honestly, he had to be in Hell for a reason. You made a mental note to bring it up to him at a later date.
‘It’s not what you think!’ You quickly jumped back in. ‘He was an abusive asshole .. And I just couldn’t take it anymore...’ You looked down with sad eyes. There was a beat of silence before Alastor spoke up.
'Murder will get you a one way ticket to Hell, even if the scum did deserve it.’ He stated as a matter of fact. Alastor was a bad person, that wasn’t up for debate, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t call someone out for being evil.
You smiled a little at his words. It felt good to be validated.
‘But if that sad excuse of a man is dead, then how did you die?’ Alastor wondered out loud, knowing he hadn’t gotten the full story just yet. You scoffed before answering.
‘One of his guys just so happened to come by after I did it. I don’t remember how he did it, but yeah.’
‘Hmm.’ Alastor was digesting all the information you’d just dropped on him. It all made sense now, how someone like you ended up in Hell. Before Alastor could respond, you spoke up again.
‘I guess my ex will be here somewhere too... That’s why I haven’t been out alone since I got here.’ It took a long time for you to leave the hotel for the first time with Charlie, terrified that you would run into him. Charlie never pushed you for an answer as to why you were so scared, but she made sure you knew you would always be safe around her.
‘What an interesting development.’ Alastor smirked to himself, deep in thought again. You stared at him again, still confused.
‘Alastor?’ Your voice seemed to pull him from his thoughts.
‘Oh don’t mind me dear, just thinking things over.’ He spoke with a surprisingly cheery tone to his voice as he waved you off. You nodded with a sigh, knowing you wouldn’t get any information out of him.
‘Thank you for listening to me Alastor, it really means a lot.’ You gave him a real smile. Probably the first time you’d really smiled since your arrival. It really did feel good to finally get everything off your chest.
‘Don’t mention it! But I would like to know everything about this coward.’
That request definitely caught you off guard. Your brows furrowed as you thought it over.
‘Why?’ You cringed at how meek your voice sounded once again.
‘Nothing to worry about dear, just information for future reference!’
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It only took a matter of hours for Alastor to track down the bastard. You’d given him quite detailed information about him and what his personality was like.
Plus Alastor had many connections all over Pentagram City, so finding the man was child’s play honestly.
Alastor had finally cornered the man in a dead end alley way. He was shaking with fear, tears running down his face as he looked up at Alastor looking down on him.
‘Now my pathetic fellow, just how should I deal with you?’
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