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nonobadcat · 2 years

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A real world AU Gothic Romance - Final Chapter

Artwork by the amazing @obsidianne-art

Pairing: Ghost Shigaraki X Fem!Reader

Rating: Readers 18+ only

Content Warnings: PnV relations with a literal ghost, toys, mirror

Chapter Three Word Count: 3.9k, Ao3 Mirror

Part I ---❤--- Part 2

Sunday October 23rd, 2022

At six in the morning, you awoke to the screech of a train horn, and a full bladder. Wiping your half-matted hair out of your face, you creaked to your feet and wrapped yourself in the comforter. Dragging your warmth with you into the bathroom, you climbed onto the toilet with one eye open…

…and proceeded to pee fire.

By nine in the morning, two inquisitive text messages and one graphic description of chafed skin summoned your best friend to the landline like a fox to an injured bunny.

“Well, of course you’re gonna give yourself a rug burn using something rough like that!” Serenity spat into the phone. “What were you thinking?!”

Um… how horny you were for some dead man’s dick?

Gripping the cold pack between your thighs, you winced. “Since when is thinking involved in that kind of thing?”

An annoyed snarl echoed from the other end. “Look, if you can’t use your fingers, you need to use a toy or something!”

You scrolled through the adult toy listings, eyeing up the options. Fake glass cock. Fake silicone cock. Fake plastic cock. Fake hot pink plastic cock with a little vibrating branch that looked like Vienna sausage. Hitachi wand. Egg thingy. Silver bullet? That sounded more like a solution to a werewolf infestation than something you wanted to put between your legs.

“Give me a break Ren-Ren! There’s too many different options,” you protested, scratching the back of your neck. “How am I supposed to know what to buy?”

You could practically hear your best friend’s headache as she loosed an indignant sigh. “All right. I got you. Do you want inside or outside stim?”

“Um…” you scrolled past a fake tentacle with weighted Kegel eggs. “Both?”

“Then order a rabbit.”

“What’s a rabbit?”

“Heaven have mercy,” she muttered. “Sit yourself down because this is going to be a long talk.”

Monday, October 31st, 2022 4:013 pm

Eight days after your sexual re-education lecture, a text message notification dinged your phone as you passed through the center of Smalltown, USA. Pulling into the old brownstone library, you parked your car and took advantage of the only five bar signal in Podunk County outside of the Walmart plaza. Not even the smell of garlic and deep fried something pouring out the vent from Wang’s Chinese Buffet could distract you from your excitement. The message was from USPS.

Your package has been delivered.

Oh good, Mrs. Murray’s pack of angry, push-face Pekingese hadn’t eaten the mail lady. You weren’t so sure when you saw her tearing down the sidewalk last week, being chased by bubble-fluff Cujos who probably asphyxiated for their efforts.

As you looked up from your phone’s screen, blustering winds painted the smooth cement walkway to the library doors with curled, brown leaves. A plastic sign reading “Trunk-or-Treat - 5pm - Halloween” flapped in the wind. You eyed the library's posted hours before cutting the engine. Perfect. For once, you were done with house calls early enough to go inside. Snagging your purse, you schlepped up the walkway to the glass doors and pushed your way in.

Paper cut-out ghosts and fresh pumpkins from “Miller’s Prize Winning Patch” coated the warm lobby with seasonal excitement. Tiny rubber bats flapped from the door frame, leading visitors up a trail of plastic “Big Foot” tracks to the circulation desk. Pinned into a vintage, slate colored silk dress with billowing mutton sleeves, the head librarian paused her frenzied typing just long enough to adjust her golden Prince-Nez spectacles. She tugged at the frilly trim of her high collar, fussing with the long lace. The upturned brim of her wide, feathered hat reminded you of a bowl. It didn’t budge as she lifted her head to face you. Considering the number of long, pearl tipped pins she’d inserted through the felt, it probably would have shrugged off an EF5 tornado by having a glass of sherry.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Curtwright." You folded your hands neatly on the desk. "I'm sorry it took me so long to make it in. Work has been savage."

The librarian smiled and turned to the squat metal, bookcase marked “holds”. She pulled down a heavy grey text labeled “Miller’s Antiques Encyclopedia”. “It’s just so good to see that old house cared for by someone who really appreciates its history,” she replied, passing you the massive reference book.

“Speaking of which, do you know what happened to the Shimura’s son after the fire?”

She hummed, tapping her chin. “Not off hand.”

You sighed. “Oh well.”

“Did you find another picture in the old furniture?”

“Uh…” Your cheeks burned as images of the naughty dream drifted across your mind. “Something like that. There was a young man in his twenties with wavy white hair. He looked a little different but I could swear it was the same person.”

“If you know the date, we can check some of the old town records.”

“There wasn’t a date on this one.”

She tugged at her sleeve. “Do you remember what his clothing looked like?”

You crossed your arms. “A red velvet jacket with these fasteners that looked like a marching band uniform.” Closing your eyes, you tried to picture the outfit you were wearing. “There was a woman in something that looked like your dress. It was really tight fitted with these slightly poofy sleeves—”

“Poofy at the shoulder or the wrist?”

“The wrist? Sort of anyway. The end of the coat was wide like a funnel.” You scrunched your face. “It was short and the shoulders were smooth, like a normal suit coat.”

“Bell sleeved jacket with Bishop sleeve shirtwaist. Probably Edwardian then. Did the dress have an S-shape that made the chest and butt stick out?”

You nodded.

“Pouter pigeon. Classic Gibson Girl look,” she murmured, leaning into the conversation. “Must have been the early years. Was there a hat?”

“Yes. It was kind of puffy and made of felt.”

“Did it have a brim?”

You pinched the air. “Maybe a small one?”

“A beaver felt Toque. I’d guess 1901 to 1904. By 1905 they were back to the Leg-of-Mutton style shirts.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Let’s go check the old town records.”

Leading you across the open floor, she motioned to some leather bound volumes on the far wall behind the “Historical” desk. Labeled by decades, each volume was four inches thick. She tugged down the 1880-1910 binder and gingerly flipped through the yellowed pages. You leaned on the beige, laminate countertop, peeking over her shoulder. All at once, a single certificate caught your eye.

“There! Shigaraki! That was the name I saw.” You pointed to the small slip of paper. “What is that?”

“Huh…” She turned the book so you could read it. “Adoption paperwork. It looks like little Shimura was adopted by someone named… well… the first name is smeared but the last name is clearly Shigaraki.” Mrs. Curtwright wrinkled her long, roman nose. “I wonder if he was related to the old Dr. Garaki that used to practice in town.”

You cocked your head. “Why are you making that face?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper and cupped her cheek. “He was a notorious grave robber. They tried to run him out of town but he had some rich friend from New York that prevented it. Supposedly, the buddy had underworld connections.”

“Oh…”

The librarian winked at you. “I’m not sure how much I believe that. Why would a crime syndicate come all the way to this little town?”

As you thought back to the scars on your dream lover’s face and how powerful his grip had been, the idea of him being more dangerous than you first realized didn’t seem that out of place.

Mrs. Curtwright flipped the page. “Oh, it looks like they changed his whole name after the adoption. No wonder Tenko Shimura disappeared from the records at the end of the Victorian era.”

Printed on the fragile paper in ink the color of night was the name you’d been searching for: Tomura Shigaraki.

After a quick stop off for $7.99 per pound Chinese buffet take-out, you rolled down the solitary drive to your Second Empire home. Pointed wrought iron trim along the edge of the tall, Mansard roofline looked like rusty knives against the thick, overcast sky. A cold, late autumn breeze slapped your cheeks. Pulling the hood of your Carhartts up, you crunched up the gravel drive to the front door. You snatched the “discreet” cardboard package off the front porch and fumbled for your keys. The old oak rattled in the breeze, its leafless twigs snapping against each other like dried chicken bones being crushed under foot. With a shudder, you headed inside and locked the door behind you.

Wang’s fried food and wonton soup proved every bit as delicious as the smell promised. However, sitting alone at a table built for many left a cold disappointment balled in your chest. You picked at the scrumptious meal, surveying the empty walls and vacant shelves. Maybe some photos would help? Did you have any printed pictures aside from the Shimura kids? Pressing your forehead against the smooth wood, you groaned.

“I need to get out more.”

After dinner, you settled in the front parlor to await any visitors. Nursing a cup of warm apple cider, you sat in the bay window, clutching a wide plastic bowl full of Kit Kats, Reese’s Pieces, Snickers, Fun Dip and SweeTarts. Dusk descended on the world outside. Trick-or-Treat hours came or went, but no costume coated child made the long trek up the barren gravel drive.

“Guess this isn’t suburbia,” you muttered, eating your tenth candy of the night. “The kids probably go to Trunk-or-Treat because the houses are too far apart.”

Disappointed and lonely, you flipped off the porch light and retreated upstairs with your package.

Flopping onto the bed sheets, you rattled the white and red box. The flesh colored, rubber-free cock flopped in its clear plastic packaging. Heat filled your cheeks as you tugged open the safety seal. As you flexed the internal rod, the moveable skin wrinkled in your fingers. You snorted with laughter, positioning it into a raunchy curve. Taking your new toy into the bathroom, you cleaned it gently with unscented soap before sticking it to the side of the porcelain basin. Giggling to yourself at your suddenly well endowed sink, you flipped on the shower and started in on your nightly routine.

Twenty minutes later, with the bedroom door locked, you peeled the plastic organ off the side of your sink and wet the base. Bathed in the flickering light of a single wick oud and musk scented candle, you snatched up your bottle of “personal jelly” from the nightstand. Then, you headed for the bare, wooden floor just beside the heavy, mahogany bed. Tossing the comforter pillows down, you fluffed them into a makeshift nest. The fake cock came down on the wooden bedframe with a lewd smack. It wiggled for a moment before standing tall directly in front of the antique oval mirror. Heat glowed in your cheeks as you adjusted the bendable shape into a less intense curl.

On the other side of the room, Tomura leaned against the other side of the ornate frame, strong fingers crawling at the glass. Blazing red eyes watched tentative hands smearing the textured organ with gelatinous lube. Then slippery digits found their way between your legs. Closing your eyes, you leaned back against the pillows. Tomura licked his rough lips as soft thighs spread for his viewing pleasure.

Smooth but firm, you teased apart your folds, working your way towards your sensitive nub. The pad of your finger lifted hooded flesh, tickling the nerves with deep, slow swipes. Musky moisture pooled in your core as a low moan slipped from your swollen lips.

One finger dipped inside, tracing over stippled flesh as it followed the curve of your body. Your wrist ached, pressing your palm tight over your clit as needy hips rolled of their own accord. Your eyes squeezed shut. Tossing your head back against the side of the old bed, you pinched one pert nipple between your fingers.

“Tomura…”

At the sound of his name, Shigaraki’s hard teeth bit his thin lips to blood.

Groaning as your hand pulled away, you climbed to shaky legs before kneeling in the nest of bedding. Lowering yourself to your forearms, you shuffled back and reached behind your hips. False flesh slid between your thighs as one hand pressed it hard to your core. The dildo’s artificial skin puckered. Thighs clenched tight, you rode its length, letting all the world fade into the feel of its sultry friction between your legs. Your body quivered as gaze drifted into a glazed stare.

Tomura groaned, savoring the erotic sight. Positioned directly in front of his mirror, you glided across the toy. The teasing sway of your tits combined with occasional peaks at pebbled nipples was exquisite torture. A bead of thick pre-cum rolled down his fingers. His eyes never left your blissed out face.

Spreading your hips and squeezing your lips, you pressed the rounded head in between your folds. Tickling yourself with the tip left your body shaking with need. You sunk back, letting your new purchase worm its way past your entrance. Quivering hands fisted the blanket. When it dipped inside, your eyes went wide.

“T-Tomura!” you stuttered.

The toy’s delicious curve was well worth the trouble. It fit like a hand in a glove, following your body’s arch to that tender spot along the front of your pussy. Drool pooled at the corner of your lips as you leaned into the sensation, letting the veiny craftsmanship set your nerves ablaze. Slick fingers gilded across your clit as you rocked yourself back and forth between twin pleasures.

Shigaraki’s eyes bulged, following every nudge of your hip as you rode his pathetic replacement. Irritation bristled across his skin. He clenched his jaw, watching the toy with burning envy as it slipped in and out of your body. A steady stream of breathy curses poured from his mouth as he waited for the right words to come from yours.

“Tomura… ohmigosh Tomura!” you moaned. “Need your cock.”

Not yet. Not until you said it.

“Please! Please! Tomura! Ngnnn—w-want you so bad.”

So close! Too close!

As you bottomed out against the base, you let your tongue hang like a dog in heat. Saliva pooled at the tip before dripping onto the blanket below. Tomura’s nails raked the glass. The candle light flickered. You looked dead in the mirror and fixed him with a lust drunk smile.

“Take me, Tomura Shigaraki.”

All at once, a hard hand pinched your jaw. You glanced up, only to see a feral snarl. Massive, tombstone wide teeth flashed in the thin light. Pale waves of ghost white hair framed his heart shaped face. Blood dripped from his broken lip as he sneered down at your intoxicated smile.

“T-thought you’d never come…” you mumbled.

Red eyes glowed in the din. “Thought you’d never ask,” he snarked back.

In one smooth motion, Tomura dragged you to your wobbly feet. You stumbled into his chest. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he kicked the comforter aside. The mattress squeaked. One massive hand pressed your cheek first into the springs as the other hoisted your hips against his. “You know you really ticked me off, putting on a show like that.”

“S-sorry,” you muttered, scooting back against him. “Didn’t know what else to do…”

He rolled his eyes, slotting himself between your thighs. You gasped as cool, firm flesh clipped your raw clit. His hoarse voice growled in your ear. “No more games and no more toys. From here on in, the only one you wag your tail for”—a thick, cold weight pressed against your hot entrance—“is me.”

You nodded.

He chuckled, patting your cheek. “Good girl.”

Tomura canted his pelvis to meet you. One stroke at a time, he worked his way inside, spreading goosebumps along your skin. Icy fingers spread your lower lips, soothing your friction sore nub. Warm breath steamed from your every pant as your ghostly lover molded your pliant body to his cock. When he finally seated himself deep inside, an experimental roll of his hips left you writhing in the sheets.

“Oh no, no, no .” He taunted. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Grasping the meat of your thighs, Tomura set a steady, bouncing pace. Every thrust pressed you deeper into slippery sheets. Your clit tingled. Crawling pleasure prickled up your nerves. His girth filled you to the brim, baring you to him in ways that set your skin ablaze. Soon, the rhythmic creak of the mattress was drowned out by mewling cries of unbridled ecstasy.

“Like that, do you?” he demanded, pressing into your farthest walls.

“Mmmm To-Tomura,” you moaned, arching your back. Another grind of his thick cock left you slurring your words “A-ah! L-love it!”

He leaned his weight forward, licking the shell of your ear. “Slut,” he rasped.

“D-on’t mind”— You buried your warm face in the bedding and grinned—“being your slut.”

With a curse, Tomura ripped himself out of your body. You flopped to the mattress with a confused whine before turning to face him. Before you could speak, he grabbed your shoulder and flipped you on your back. Cracked lips smashed against yours in a frenzied kiss. Cold hands dragged you over the side of the bed, as he hoisted your legs over his hips. When he broke the kiss, a skeleton wide grin split his face from ear to ear.

“Oh?” A creepy chuckle shook his chest. “Is that so?”

With a snap of his hips, Tomura buried himself deep in your cunt.

You yelped, clawing at his shoulders. Long hair tickled your cheek as he pressed his nose into your neck. Hard teeth nipped at the delicate skin. He reached between you, boney fingers toying with your clit. With a gasp, you writhed on his cock. His free hand cupped the back of your head, tilting your face.

“Take a look at how naughty you are,” he whispered.

When you saw yourself in the mirror, your breath caught in your chest. Though you could see him plain as day, there was no one reflected in the glass. Instead, your body hovered in midair, back curved and nipples tight. Between your thighs, glistening in the candlelight, your naked core clenched around nothing. Heat flooded your brain, torching all rational thought. You gulped.

Tomura turned your gaze back to him. Half-lidded eyes paired with his smug grin sent a shock of lust though your insides. He chuckled at your expression before rolling his hips again. When you gasped, he smothered it with another hungry kiss.

“Mine,” he growled.

Locking your hands beside your head, Tomura trailed his scratchy lips down the column of your neck. You whimpered, turning your cheek into the sheets. Squirming legs clamped to his sides. An eerie chuckle rumbled from his chest and he buried his nose in your hair. The wet smacks from each firm thrust filled the air like a lewd base beat. When he settled upon one particular motion, you choked on your own voice.

“Oh?” He sneered. “Here?”

Tomura leaned into you, rolling his head across your walls.

“T-Tomura!” you whined, arching your back.

A shiver wracked his body. “Again,” he commanded, pressing into the spot that left your vision swirling grey.

Your toes curled. “Tomur-ah!”

He sped the pace, pounding you against the sheets. The springs squeaked their protests but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of his feral panting. “Again!” he hissed.

Closing your eyes, you wrapped your legs around his back. “Tomura…” you moaned, pulling him tight against you.

Shigaraki swore again, wrapping his arms under your shoulders. Burying his face in your neck, his movements stuttered. Tingling waves of pleasure rippled down your thighs. You tensed, clamping your body down until the electric vibrations rattled your brain. He surged forward, pounding relentlessly into you.

“Gonna take my cum aren’t you? Take it like the good little slut you are."

As coarse white hair clipped across your swollen clit, your world swam behind blurry tears. Half formed thoughts slurred from puffy lips.“Want it. Want your cum so bad!”

Tinged with the taste of copper, his feverish kiss threatened to suffocate you. You tongue met his in an intoxicating dance. Saliva dribbled down your chin as your body coiled tighter and tighter. Just when you were about to snap, he whispered one final order:

“Say my name.”

“TOMURA!” you yelped as your world exploded into white hot bliss.

With a strangled grunt, Tomura emptied himself inside you. Out of breath and shaking, he collapsed on top of you, grinding his hips against you over sensitive skin. As his seed leaked around the sides of him, you pressed your forehead against his. Clammy skin met flushed flesh as you tried to still the spinning room around you.

Climbing to his elbows, Tomura swept the stray hairs away from your sweaty brow. A cruel cackle filled the room. Scarlet eyes gleamed with villainous mirth as he lifted your chin.

“Boo," he whispered.

❤ ~Fin~ ❤

Need more dark, gothic romance with hot villains? Check out my original reader insert novel:

Maid For Your Master by Afipia Felis

Available world wide in paperback and ebook.

CW available here

Reviews from readers like you:

"...The fantasy world is lush and the descriptions feel very historically real... This is a story written [with] the kind of dark heroes who feel real, and who don't immediately reform when the heroine batts her eyes at them..." - (Amazon)

"...It also has a lovely dark plot that really gives off the best historical tropes in a really well thought out world :)..." - (Amazon Kindle)

"Delightfully Devious! One thing I also particularly enjoyed about this book was the POV. Its very seldom that you find well written novels written this way. This was a very thrilling book and I can't wait to read more!" - (Goodreads.com)

Read the first three chapters for free on Amazon and Google Play.

Artwork:

Character design by Obsidianne-art

Chapter seven Excerpt By NoNoBadCat

Taglist:

@THE-LADY-WRITES-WHAT @wonwoosbestbuddy @OCEON6 @dabisqueen @shig-a-shig-ah-ah @feral-creep @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-loveuet-love @smilinghowever @imaginedheroine @CLOUDS-NO1-FAN @MOONTHECREATOR @HARLEYWRITESFANTASY @MANJIROSGIRL @vamperilous @MADDY-HAT @cakernofakers @builtd-different25 @kurtasim @shiggyniggy @koreluvsspring @smilee-spooks @beware-thecrow

@m0nim0ni @minnieplier-blog @blehitsriot @moonwad @saikis-seceretcoffeejelly @nainainairi @bakuhoe37 @un-deadinsomniac @nonominchan @utena-akashiya @molita111 @nekolover93 @pimp-in @slaughterbat777 @chxrryvibes @blackchemicals @coldsaladpainter @flamme-meuf2-shiggy @aphorditeslust @just-yer-average-key @rekoii @justnothingguys @weo0o

@rekoii @down-with-the-shigness @softkao @night-shadowblood-writes2

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #shimura tenko x reader #ghost shigaraki x reader #tenko shimura x reader #tomura x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #reader insert #x reader #fem!reader #ghost x reader #bnha x female reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #bnha x you

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besthealthcareproductsau · 5 months

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slowlycasualtraveler · 1 year

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saltyfartconnoisseur · 1 year

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superbbeardllama · 1 year

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cheap cars for sale Llangefni: 11 Thing You're Forgetting to Do

Where to buy a secondhand cars and truck?

There are a selection of means to source an utilized car-- consisting of investors, suppliers as well as private vendors. You can additionally get in person or remotely (over the phone or online) so we'll break down all those alternatives so you recognize which one ideal matches you. Acquiring an approved used car from a franchised dealership is the most costly choice, but it's typically one of the most secure for a range of factors. First of all, the vehicle must've been through a detailed check. Approved Used autos will certainly almost always have a complete background as well as include an aftermarket guarantee (around year is common). If you're not really sure-footed concerning looking for and also purchasing a previously owned auto, a dealership is the very best location to start as purchasing privately commonly calls for more car knowledge. A trader can vary from a bachelor acquiring as well as offering cars on their driveway to a franchised dealership. It's important to comprehend the distinction between a trader and a supplier due to the fact that you'll obtain much less aftersales sustain with a trader, for example, however rates will certainly be lower as they much less have expenses (personnel, centers etc) to cover.

When's the most effective time to buy a pre-owned vehicle?

March and September are the peak months offer for sale of brand-new autos due to the enrollment plate transforming. That means dealerships will have great deals of used vehicles to sell (mainly from traded in lorries), which puts you in a solid position to negotiate as well as get. Much like motorcycles, convertibles and also camper vans additionally offer quite possibly in summer season because of the bright climate-- so prevent acquiring in the warmer months if you're in the marketplace for a used exchangeable or the like.

What should I examine when acquiring an utilized car?

Check the tyres for damages and also make sure they have sufficient walk left (1.6 mm is the legal minimum). Try the electrics (windows, radio, lights and so on) and make sure that the aircon functions. Look at the mileage to make sure it straightens with the problem of the auto, very used seats on a 20k-mile vehicle must be a warning sign. We advise you spend for a background examine the car, as well.

Should I haggle for a made use of vehicle?

Haggling isn't just reserved for your grandmother buy used cars Llangefni at her regional charity shop. That's right, in many cases, haggling might save you a significant quantity of cash on an utilized cars and truck. Private sellers do not have sales targets to hit so you'll have even more luck getting discount rates from them. That stated, asking a dealer to chuck something in for free could obtain you a free solution or some floor mats.

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aoonu · 2 years

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5 Most Luxurious Car Interiors You Should Consider for 2020

Let’s know how the gorgeous accessories need a special place in your cars and how they can bring that required feel of luxury, as you enter the New Year 2020.Let’s turn the page, and chase the new-year 2020 in great style! You should adorn your homes this festive season with the best of the show-pieces and also your cars with the coolest accessories ever. Aoonuauto has the most amazing collection, which can be explored and should be assembled in your cars for a better appearance and a wonderful experience. The car interior accessories are plush, elegant and luxurious in every way, let us find them out:

LED accent light kit for a beautifully lit console area

The LED accent light can be a great choice to upgrade your cars this festive season. The excitement of the New Year’s Eve would just double up if you purchase this accessory and sport it in your car for a wonderful look.

This LED accent light kit can bring a lot of colors, will make the console area shine and will add a soothing light inside your car. This will add a Hyun-cool effect which will drive you crazy while you take off.

LED cup holders to experience a rich way of drinking coffee

Unlike the regular looking accessories in the market, those you find at Aoonuauto are lavish, made of sturdy material and are a high-end quality item. These are perfectly shaped small coasters that can be universally placed in all cars.

The LED cup holder lights are so luminous and add heaps of glamour as they are placed in your car. Their color can be changed as per your mood and when you sip coffee you will feel more royal and grand. Moreover, this chic accessory comes with a USB port and can be charged simply using an android charger cable.

Aromatherapy perfumes to give you respite from stress

Work-life balance is a difficult one to make, but the question is how much you try to balance it out? Well, Aoonuauto comes with a wonderful and aromatic solution in the form of its aromatherapy perfume.

Well, let this fidgety widget give you a wide smile and rejuvenate your nerves as it will greet you with a breezy, soft and healing environment as soon as you sit inside your car.

LED foot mats to lay down the glittery paradise under your feet

To stay stress-free and relaxed, it is crucial to invest your funds in an auxiliary of your choice and what can be better than buying an LED foot mat and H7 LED Headlight Bulb which is cushy, soft, LED enabled and has tough-surface.

They are made of special Japanese acrylic material which makes it highly rough and tough to use, thus you don’t have to bother if your toddlers hop on them or even if they spill a drink or two.

Enter 2020 with a starry sky of your own

As you drive off for a party with your friends on New Year’s Eve, you should get your car first upgraded with starry sky ambient light which is a small projector that reflects on the car roof light in the form of a million beautiful stars.

A balance of work and personal life comes with a lesser amount of stress, enjoyment and peaceful work hours. Being inside a cubicle whole time can be stressful for you, and after finishing work, you'll have to sit again for a long 1 hour to drive back home to happy faces. So why not begin with a beautiful upgrade with car interiors as 2020 approaches.

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nottodayjjk · 3 years

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dirty little secret ~ knj

❆ summary: one fateful night in december, you come to acquire santa's naughty or nice list by accident. together with your neighbour and best friend namjoon you uncover the dirty secrets of your neighbours plunging everything into chaos. bringing mischief about is all fun games, until your own little secret appears on the naughty and nice list.

❆ pairing: namjoon x female reader (minor appearance of other idols)

❆ word count: 10,4k

❆ genre: humor, romance, fluff, smut

❆ fic warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), language

❆ rating: 18+

❆ notes from the author: this fic is part of a hoeliday well spent from the christmas in july collab hosted by @kookdiaries, @kithtaehyung and @xiaokoo and is loosely based on the hallmark channel-movie ‘naughty or nice’ (2012). i had a lot of fun writing this! big thank you again to @kookdiaries for creating this incredible banner and for @minigum for being the most wonderful beta reader <3

❆ tag list: @shameless-army @writtenwhalien @shrimpmsg @moonchild1

In the dark of the night, snow was falling softly and covered the street in peaceful quietness. Christmas decorations and flickering candles adorned the lit windows and lights were beautifully draped around snow-covered bushes. Sparkling reindeers pulled Santa’s carriage and inflated snowmen waved happily at cars driving by. Christmas time had just begun.

A few lamps illuminated the street with their yellow dimmed light as a dark, giant shadow slipped past. Quiet footsteps could be heard in the stillness of the cold winter night, wading through ankle-deep snow in heavy black boots. They were on their way to the sturdy apartment building on the left side of the desolate street, determined to fulfil their quest. They took another look around before they slipped through the glass door, the red fabric of their clothes gleamed under the flickering light of the broken lamp of the entrance lobby. Then, the night was quiet again.

You had been out with your best friend and next-door neighbour Namjoon whom you knew a few years by now. From the first day you had set foot in the small apartment building, he had been a helping hand, mainly through helping you carry a myriad of small boxes and things all the way up to the 6th floor where the both of you lived. The elevator had, of course, been out of order on that day. But he hadn’t complained at all! And because he had gone way out of his way even though he had only met you that same day, you had invited him to a take-away pizza and a bottle of cheap wine from the supermarket right around the corner. You had not expected your first night in your new home to be like this, to be so much fun. He had stayed until the morning, the two of you talking about anything and everything until the birds had chirped good morning outside. And the bond between the two of you had only grown from there on out.

You had visited a local Christmas market together, drinking a whole lot of eggnog and relishing in the joyful spirit of Christmas. You had never been someone to celebrate Christmas before you had met Namjoon. In your first year, he had basically dragged you to the market and filled you up with all kinds of different Christmassy drinks and snacks, bought you several gingerbread hearts, and even got you to ride one of the many attractions with him. The next day had been awful, the hot chocolate with rum had come out the same way that it had gone in. Still, it had been the most joyous Christmas time you had ever had.

Ever since then, he always did something new with you every Christmas. Buying a tree, seeing a Santa Claus show in the city centre, or writing letters with long wish lists to Santa. But it had never come down to actually spending Christmas eve and morning together, to your disappointment. He usually drove to his parents, a three-hour ride from where you lived, leaving you on your own to sulk in loneliness until he came back for New Year’s Eve.

Well, this year he had bugged you until you had agreed to go décor shopping for your apartment with him. It had made him sad to see your living space so empty during a cheery time like this. He got you all the basic things: fairy lights, cute little snowmen that had the friendliest smiles, a whole lot of candlesticks with red candles that smelled like gingerbread and cinnamon, hell, even glitter balls and bows for the small tree he also had gotten you.

After putting all the decorations up and “to celebrate your joyful shopping spree”, as Namjoon had called it, he had once again persuaded you to go to the Christmas market, letting no feeble excuses count. He had been in too good of a mood anyway for you to turn him down. You found it cute when he was all excited and giddy like this.

He had ordered eggnog after eggnog. His infectious enthusiasm had only gone up, not down a tad as you had hoped. But after the third eggnog, you hadn’t minded anymore anyway. Namjoon had entertained you all through the evening, making you laugh and enjoy yourself after a long week of studying and learning. Even though it had just snowed the other day, the eggnog had held you warm through and through, your cheeks feeling hot. Maybe it had also been a little bit because of Namjoon and how he had scooted closer and closer to you throughout the evening, ‘to keep each other warm’ as he had stated.

You had stayed until the booth had closed and the owner had hushed you to finally head home. Given both of your inebriated states, getting home had taken twice as long as it did when you’d left from home to go out.

As you had reached the door, waving a last goodbye to Namjoon who had stumbled clumsily into his own apartment, it had taken you a few minutes until you finally had gotten the key into the hole. You hadn’t even bothered to brush your teeth, only changing into comfy pyjamas – which had been quite the task – and slipping into bed. Dreamland hadn’t waited long to come, and you had fallen sound asleep.

So, to no one’s surprise, you didn’t hear when soft but heavy footsteps approached your apartment in the middle of the night. Didn’t spot the broad shadow that could be seen through the small gap under your door where the light fell in. Didn’t notice when a thick package wrapped with packing paper was pushed through the letter slot of your apartment door.

The package fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The towering figure hummed a merry tune before taking off again. You only turned around in your sleep, mumbling, “No more eggnog, Namjoon”, before it was quiet once more.

The rest of the night went uneventfully, and the package laid peacefully on your door mat until morning came.

A pounding headache. That was what had woken you up. The eggnog hadn’t been a good idea from the start, and you had told Namjoon several times. But even though he had listened to you, he had ignored your reasonable request. He hadn’t really given you a choice to begin with. And you hadn’t wanted to complain. At least he had paid and that was all that had been needed to convince you.

While Namjoon was already producing his own music, you were still a university student majoring in Art. You got by fine with the money your parents sent you and what you earned from your part-time job at the library, but you were still glad for every penny you could keep and save for after university. You dreamed of opening your own business and, heck, you needed a lot of money for that.

When Namjoon had heard of your ideas, he had been in immediately, supporting you in every way possible. Even if it meant paying for your drinks or your museum visits on the weekend. As long as he got to spend time with you, it was worth all his money.

You desperately grabbled for the nightstand. Luckily, you had prepared pain meds and water in advance, even a small piece of toast. Your nights out with Namjoon usually ended like this, so you are accustomed to it.

Sitting up a little, you popped the pills into your mouth first before chucking the water into your throat as if your life depended on it. Once you’d dealt with that, you reached towards the toast, munching on it until it was no more.

You felt better immediately as the medicine worked its way through your system and the toast soaked up the remaining alcohol in your stomach. Slowly the turns in your stomach lessened and until there was one thing overtaking your needs. It was time for coffee.

Slowly, you got up, swaying a little back onto the bed but overall, it was not as bad as you’d had expected. Sure, the eggnog had made your stomach a little weak, but you felt certain it could handle the coffee. Otherwise, you couldn’t make it through the day. Coffee was vital right now.

On the way out of your bedroom, you snatched your long silk gown, putting it on. You headed straight to the coffee machine, pushing the little blinking button so it started grinding the black beans. The soft smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air as you grabbed a big mug from the sink. You sighed and leaned one hip on the counter.

As you waited for the coffee you looked around and your gaze fell onto an exceptionally cheery snowman on your coffee table. You had never been keen on Christmas decorations. They were too bright, too colourful, and too cheesy.

Well, jokes on you. All the things the two of you had bought, the fairy lights, red candles, a few reindeers and snowmen, and some green fir branches, were now spread around your apartment, the small tree chilling next to your TV in the corner. It was hard to say ‘No’ to Namjoon’s puppy eyes. He usually got his way with you.

It had also been his idea to not only put the lights on the curtain rods but to wind them around them, too.

He had held you safely by your waist as you had stood on the ladder to reach up there. His long, slender hands had felt so warm through your clothes that your heart had stuttered for a second and you had gotten the job done rather quickly to get away from this weird feeling that had erupted in your chest. Because you couldn’t admit it to yourself. You couldn’t admit that Namjoon had become more than a best friend to you over the last few years.

But you had to confess; the lights were very very pretty. You even thought about keeping them up there after Christmas. They brought a soft glow around the room that made it feel unbelievably cosy and romantic.

As you absentmindedly grabbed for your finished cup of coffee you couldn’t help but remember the way Namjoon’s skin had glowed in these lights. How mesmerizing he had looked. How hard you had had to keep yourself from putting a hand up to one of his cheeks and caressing his soft skin.

You lost yourself in the memory for a second before you noticed something very peculiar from the corner of your eye. Something very square and brown. It was a package. On your doormat. ‘What in god’s name,’ you thought to yourself as you eyed it in curious suspicion. The post usually never came that early. Especially not on a Saturday. And why had no one rang the bell? It was odd, to say the least.

You left your coffee on the counter, steam still rising in puffy clouds from the cup. Cautiously, you made your way over to the mysterious package that read your full address, but no sender. It was quite big, now that you had gotten closer, and it had you wondering how it had fit through the narrow letter slot. Maybe Namjoon was pulling a prank on you?

Before you picked up the package, you opened the door and checked the hallway, frantically looking left and right. But no one was there, not even Namjoon to cheekily grin at you.

Closing the door behind you, you took the brown package and laid it down on the counter next to your coffee. You eyed it once more while taking a long sip from the beverage. Should you open it? What if there was something… bad or deadly inside? You had heard of such packages before on the news. People sent them to get revenge on ex-partners or enemies. Well, you had no such things… and Namjoon seemed to be out of the picture as well.

After some more staring, curiosity finally got the best of you, and you carefully ripped open the brown packing paper. It revealed a heavy book that was edged in red velvety fabric that had golden ornaments engraved. Imprinted on it was the lettering “Naughty or Nice”. Wait- what?!

Snorting laughter erupted from your chest. This had to be a prank, right? ‘Namjoon’s good,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Keeps hiding until I actually look at the book. Not a very good prank, but alright…’

As you were about to open it, you could hear a key jingling in front of your door and some mumbled curses. ‘Speaking of the devil.’ Namjoon strode through the door in his pyjama and a long gown, his hair looking dishevelled and eyes still half-closed. He had your spare keys which gave him the possibility to let himself in whenever and you didn’t mind. At this point, it had become commonplace.

You watched with an amused grin as he immediately scuffed over to the coffee machine, grabbing another cup from the sink, and turning it on once more. He inhaled the smell just like you did before he turned around to face you.

“Morning, Y/N,” he hummed, and a lop-sided grin adorned his lips. Hell, how did this sleepy look fit him so well? “How is your stomach?”

You crossed your arms and leant back on the counter. “Better than I thought. You?”

“Same, same. I just really craved your coffee. This machine is a literal angel!” He turned back around to grab his coffee and take a big gulp before letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Very funny, by the way.” You pointed at the book behind you, still laying unopened on your counter. “You never have Christmas-pranked me before so that’s a first. But it isn’t one of your best ideas, if I can be honest with you.”

There was a moment of silence. You had expected him to laugh at you or make a clever remark about how he had gotten you to open it. But… nothing. He just blankly stared at you. “What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Making this book look like Santa’s Naughty or Nice list? Very funny, Namjoon, very funny!” You chuckled a little at him pretending not to know what you were talking about.

He spied over your shoulder, reading the lettering. And shook his head. “Y/N. I… didn’t prank you. This–“ He pointed to the book. “–is nothing I came up with. Though I must say, I think it’s a pretty good idea!” He snickered a little and took another sip of his coffee.

“But–“ You turned around to the book. “–who sent it to me then? I don’t know who else would try and prank me…” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, taking another look at the packing paper. Still nothing but your address.

“Have you opened it yet?”

“No, I was just about to when you came through the door.” You put a hand on the binding. The velvet fabric felt soft under your fingertips and the golden lettering glittered in the glim of the fairy lights. It looked so… real.

Carefully, you opened it, coming face to face with a blank page. Maybe the others? You browsed to the next page. And the next. And the next. But they were all blank, not even a tiny little bit of ink to be seen. ‘Weird…’

Skimming through the rest of the book, you looked for anything peculiar. Nothing. “It’s empty,” you told Namjoon, while going back to the first page and leaving it open.

You heard shuffling on the floor and suddenly Namjoon leaned over your shoulder to look at the book. He stretched out his hand to skim through it as well. He was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and his breath on your neck as he let out a confused huff.

When he stepped back from you after inspecting the book, you wished him back closer behind you. ‘Stop that,’ you scolded yourself in your head. ‘He is your best friend!’

“Well, it actually looks like someone pulled a prank on you,” Namjoon stated while making himself another cup of coffee. He usually runs on three. On a good day. That you knew his coffee consumption so well said a lot about how regularly he came over in the morning to use your coffee machine.

“Apparently…”

Loud bass suddenly disrupted the morning, booming through the wall to your left. ‘No, not again!’ It was your other neighbour… Jungkook. He kept it down on most days. But he always pulled this on a Saturday morning, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose just to annoy you. You had banged on the wall a few times before. On some days he even turned the music down after your knocking complaint. But today, it was on a whole other level. As if he knew you had been out late and had a mild hangover.

“Ugh, I’ll swear I’ll punch him some day,” you mumbled while pinching your eyebrows in frustration.

Namjoon knew you weren’t kidding. Jungkook had been getting on your nerves ever since he had moved in next door. Before him, there lived a nice and quiet lady who occasionally baked chocolate cookies for the two of you and had always put something nice in front of your door during Christmas time. Now, there was Jungkook. Student, party animal, and the type to listen to music so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Namjoon said. “But I also don’t want to have to visit you in prison during Christmas time.” He chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair before chucking down his coffee.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling noise of paper coming from the counter. The book! It was turning its pages on its own. “Holy-“

You stepped in front of the counter, Namjoon following closely, eyes as wide as the moon. “How is that possible?” he whispered while peering over your shoulder again.

A golden light bloomed from the Naughty or Nice book and the two of you just stared at in great awe as sparkles danced around the room. “I’m usually not one to believe in magic,” Namjoon muttered under his breath. “But this is a whole new thing…”

The turning stopped and the pages gently dropped down. Beautiful, curved letters emerged, writing your neighbour’s name. They shone golden in the light. “What is happening?” you hissed while intently watching the book. Namjoon just shrugged his shoulders, speechless.

Jeon Jungkook: always leaves his trash in front of Mrs. Kim’s apartment door

Underneath was a moving picture, showing Jungkook looking around frantically before putting his trash bag on Mrs. Kim’s doormat and a more detailed description of what was going on. You gasped out in disbelief. “Mrs. Kim is always so nice! How dare he!?”

Namjoon let out an angry huff. “You’ve got a good point but-“ His forehead crinkled in confusion and scepticism. “How does it do that?”

You shrugged, turning the page to see if it had a built-in display. But… there was nothing. It was just a normal page like any other. You turned back to the picture of Jungkook where he had gotten caught in the act. By whom? You didn’t know, could only guess… But no, this was not possible. Santa didn’t exist. But… an idea came to your head.

“Hmm, let’s put this to a test,” you said as the pounding bass continued to boom through the wall. You left the book open, the image of Jungkook engraved in your head, as you turned on your heels and made your way over to the door.

“You actually gonna go over there?” Namjoon trailed behind you, not sure if this was the right thing to do. You definitely had a reason to be angry at Jungkook. But what if this was all just a scam? Well, it felt far too real for that, but Namjoon wasn’t yet ready to call his beliefs into question. This was insane.

You nodded and opened the door. “He has been getting on my nerves for a few weeks now. It’s time to put this to a stop.” You gave him one last determined book before stepping out into the hallway.

Namjoon shook his head in amusement at your vendetta and stopped at your doorstep, leaning against the frame watching you. This was your fight. He wouldn’t get between the frontlines. He knew your anger all too well.

You rapped viciously on the door; quite sure Jungkook wouldn’t hear any of it. And of course, the door didn’t open and the music blared on. So, you resorted to a more effective method. You pressed the button of the bell and held it down. ‘I will have you answer your door even if it takes the whole freaking day.’

It took a few seconds, but you heard the music fading and someone swearing behind the door. It worked. A malicious smirk adorned your lips. You weren’t even nervous, more excited to try the spicy information you had acquired about him. The keys jingled in the keyhole and an annoyed face appeared in the ajar door. “What is it?”

You crossed your arms and put on your most intimidating look. The secret from the book gave you a hell of a confident boost. “Jungkook,” you started, “I’ve told you many many times to quiet it down.”

He rolled his eyes and huffed. “I know. I’m sorry but-“

You cut him off immediately. “No buts. You’re either gonna tone it down from now on or…”

“Or what? You’re trying to threaten me?” He laughed and threw his head back. “That’s new. Well, you’ve got nothing on me, Y/N.”

You squinted your eyes at him, and a smile grew on your face. “You sure?”

Jungkook leaned against the door frame while looking bored. The arrogant look on his face gave you the rest of the encouragement you needed. “Well,” you swirled one of your hair strands around your finger, “I know you’re putting your trash bags on Mrs. Kim’s doormat, so you don’t have to take it out yourself…”

It took a moment for Jungkook to realise what you just said. But when he finally did, his jaw almost dropped down to his knees. “How-“

“The poor woman. I think she deserves to know…” You turned around, feeling the power pulsating in your hands. It was electrifying! You slowly strode over to your apartment.

“Y/N!” Jungkook called out after you, desperation apparent in his voice. “I-“ He dropped his head in defeat, all pride and arrogance had left his body. “If you don’t tell her, I promise I’m gonna tone it down from now on,” he caved in.

“You better,” you just answered and walked away, leaving a speechless Jungkook by his door.

Namjoon snickered as you entered your apartment again, finding the whole situation very amusing. “Have you seen his face? He was so stunned!” Both of you burst out into a fit of laughter, needing a few seconds to calm yourselves down again.

You went back to the still open book. “So it tells the truth…” you stated while tracing the letters with your fingers when they suddenly started to disappear. “Oh! They’re vanishing!”

“Probably because you called him out on that,” Namjoon assumed, looking at the now empty page and then at you. “You know what that means… right?”

You turned it over in your head for a few seconds before you answered Namjoon’s gaze with a mischievous smile. “Let’s discover some secrets this Christmas!”

And so, the two of you went on to discover the hidden secrets and misdeeds of all of your neighbours. The book was never wrong. Not when it told you that Mrs. Kim had a secret fling with Mr. Sung from floor 5 and they were acting like giddy teenagers, that Mrs. Lee let her dog pee on Mrs. Park’s door mat once in a while because they couldn’t stand each other, that Soonyoung from second floor liked to bathe in pure milk occasionally, that Yeji from first floor stole Mr. Chew’s newspaper now and then because he was rude to basically everyone in the building, that Taehyung from fourth floor had sang Christmas carols in the middle of the night for Yeji because he had been out to drink, and many many more.

Some of them you used for your amusement, but most of them were kept between the both of you. You felt closer to Namjoon than ever before. Sharing and keeping secrets about your neighbours bound you together. And Christmas time was a blast, for the both of you! You went out once in a while to the Christmas market again but usually you kept your noses in the Naughty or Nice book, awaiting the next secret to appear. So, Christmas time went by in a happy blur.

After coming home from another one of your merry adventures, you began to realise that this might all be over soon. Actually, Christmas evening was tomorrow already and Namjoon would probably be off to his parents. You didn’t want to stop discovering all these secrets with Namjoon. You had spent a lot of time together; it had been so much fun. And you liked being around him, you knew that. You weren’t ready to admit it, but you had fallen in love with him even more by now. Even after all these years, his way of living and his wisdom still amazed you to no end.

Your thoughts were suddenly disrupted by Namjoon as the both of you reached your apartment door. “Y/N?”

“Yes,” you answered, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Namjoon stood in front of you, nervously wrenching his hands. You had never seen him skittish before. Had something happened?

He took a deep breath before he began to speak. “I was… wondering if you wanted to spent Christmas together?” Namjoon nervously scratched his head. “I-“ he stumbled over his own words for a moment. “I don’t want you to be alone for Christmas. And my parents won’t be at home anyway. So, I was wondering- I mean-“ He rambled on and gestured wildly between the both of you.

To stop him, you gently put your hand on his arm. “Yes,” you answered simply and smiled at him happily, not able to contain your excitement at his request. Your heart was beating in your chest. Spending Christmas with Namjoon was a dream come true.

“I... would love to.” You rubbed your arm awkwardly while not being able to meet his eyes. You were sure he would be able to read your confused feelings for him right there.

He let out a small huff of relief. “Good, good… We can go grocery shopping together tomorrow if you want. So we can pick something to eat that we both like.”

“That sounds like a great idea. Meet in the morning as usual?” you asked, fidgeting with your jacket sleeve.

Namjoon nodded. “I will cook of course. You will be my guest! Also, your cooking skills might be a little insufficient for Christmas…” Mischievousness gleamed in his eyes and you just shook your head, laughing a little.

“I think my cooking skills are fine as they are. It’s not my fault you don’t like the food that I cook!” you exclaimed and hit his shoulder playfully. “Also, your food might taste better than mine. But you’re definitely more chaotic than I am!”

“Okay, okay,” he put his hands up in defeat. “You’ve got a point. I’m still cooking though.” He took off his beanie to run a hand through his hair. He stretched his arms out, motioning for you to give him a goodbye-hug.

Your skin tingled as you obliged. His hands rested on your back as he tugged you close. “Good night, Y/N,” he whispered into your ear, eliciting a shiver running down your back. Gosh, his voice and his soft lips were hovering right next to your ear. It created images in your head you shouldn’t be thinking about in the proximity of your best friend, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You swallowed a big lump in your throat. “Good night to you too,” you whispered back with a hoarse voice, heart still fluttering. He could hear the rapid beating for sure.

Both of you stayed in the hug longer than necessary, thinking about what would become of your adventures once Christmas was over. You were sure the book would disappear, that its owner would come to get it.

You sighed before stepping away from Namjoon, giving him a small smile before pulling out your keys. He went over to his door, a jingling noise reaching your ears. You looked over your shoulder before entering your apartment.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” Namjoon called over in a hushed voice before he disappeared behind his own door. Little did you and he know what effect these last few words would have on you…

Wanton sounds escaped your mouth as your hands grasped fiercely for your sheets. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body as you felt a desperate mouth latching onto your clit, tongue poking out to gratify your little bundle of nerves. Your eyes rolled back into your head. It felt… overwhelming.

You couldn’t hold in a lewd moan as the tongue worked magic on you. “Please–“ You couldn’t form a whole sentence without being interrupted by your own moans.

You felt a hand softly caressing your thigh. “Y/N,” a familiar voice reached your ear, making you perk up. Was this… real? You lifted yourself on your elbows to see if you were right with your guess.

Looking up from between your legs was a tousled Namjoon, cheeks red and lips glistening in the light of your fairy lights. He looked like an angel with his skin glowing golden and his hair illuminated.

It felt like a dream come true…

It wasn’t the morning light waking you up nor the loud traffic noise from the street in front of your apartment building. No. What woke you up was the growing wetness between your legs. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, a light film of sweat covered your forehead. Well, that had been… hot.

You had had dreams of Namjoon before. Funny ones, sad ones, even ones where the two of you had been dating. But with things like this, you had only been daydreaming about thus far. It had you all riled up, a little embarrassed, but first and foremost horny.

His head between your legs and his tongue on your clit had felt so real. Oh, what you’d give to actually get to feel that. But you were sure that it would remain something that stayed in your daydreams, when you had to release some friction behind your bedroom doors.

You sighed, pushing the thick blanket to the side. You had to take care of the mess between your legs and there was only one place that always helped: the shower. You had to get this dream out of your head before Namjoon would come over. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to look into his eyes without thinking of the sinful scene that repeated itself again and again in your head.

‘Let’s get this over with,’ you pushed yourself to get out of bed and into the shower. As if you didn’t enjoy this…

As you sat down by the book again with a big cup of fresh coffee, you were actually wondering if you’d ever appear on the list. Or Namjoon. And which secret of yours it would be. So far, it hadn’t spilled any of yours. But it would be merely a matter of time until the pages would reveal what you had kept from one another. Even though there were barely any secrets between the two of you. Only this… this was kind of a major one.

Absent-mindedly, you browsed through the book again. What secret would reveal itself today? Maybe about this dude all up on floor 7 that was always wearing a beanie and sunglasses or that girl from over the street that was walking her dog up and down the street.

Someone was entering the apartment. Namjoon rounded the corner and came into your view. He was also still in his morning clothes, his feet hidden beneath two slippers. Your gazes met shortly, a quick nod exchanged and gentle smiles, before he made a turn.

“And?” He strolled over to the coffee machine, slippers scratching on the floor. “Anything new?” He nodded towards the book sprawled out in front of you.

“I haven’t really checked yet, give me a second.” You concentrated back on the book, pages sliding through your fingers as you looked for a new secret until you found it. You didn’t really pay any attention at first. But then you read your name in big, curved letters. A quiet gasp slipped past your lips.

Checking to see if Namjoon was still making coffee, you hoped he was not aware of your little slip up. He happily worked away, putting coffee beans into the machine, whistling ‘Jingle Bells Rock’ to the puckering sound of the milk frother.

Then, you turned your attention back to the book. When you read Has naughty dreams of their best friend in small letters, your heart sped up and your breathing got ragged. Underneath it was, like it had always been the case before, a more detailed description of what had happened. And a picture of you writhing and moaning beneath the sheets. No, why today?!

The words in front of you blurred as you tried to fathom the consequences if Namjoon came to read this. Your friendship would be over. He would never speak to you again. Hell, what would he think of you?!

You couldn’t let that happen. He was the only thing in your life that kept you sane. That could not all be thrown away. You quickly closed the book, thinking of something to distract Namjoon.

Unfortunately, the loud thump startled Namjoon. He turned around as he heard the sudden noise. He eyed you for a second and then noticed the closed book under your hands. He put down the coffee spoon he was holding. “Uhm… Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Your eyes are like… this wide.” He put a fair distance between his thumb and his pointer finger.

Quickly shaking your head, you scrambled for words. “It’s nothing. I-I thought I…” Yeah, what did you think? It was hard to lie when Namjoon looked at you like that. Your brain couldn’t come up with anything. Instead, you just gulped heavily.

Namjoon’s coffee was now forgotten, its owner too curious about what you had read and seen. He had, of course, noticed your nervous behaviour, growing suspicious of what you were trying to do. His slippers scraped along the floor again as he casually made his way over to you. With his gaze never leaving your face, he followed your every move.

Clambering for the book, you secured it in your arms before Namjoon could reach for it. He couldn’t find out. Not about the dream. Not about the feelings you held for him. But especially not about the dream. The sinful scenes replayed themselves in your head again and you felt your cheeks heating up once more. “There is nothing in there,” you exclaimed, trying to sound as convincing as possible. But there was a crack in your voice. And you could see it in his eyes. He knew.

Scrambling to sit up right on the couch, you shook your head ‘No’, keeping the book tight in your clutches. Over your dead body would it fall into his hands.

“If there is nothing to see, why are you keeping it from me?” He tried to reason with you, stretching out a hand towards the book that you kept clutched in front of your chest, your arms wrapped around it like it was the most precious treasure you had ever possessed.

Namjoon was not one to accept a ‘No’, you knew that. You could spot the determined look in his eyes already. There was nothing that would keep him from finding out. And that had you scared like hell.

You could only stare at him, not having an answer for his very true and logical question. He would always catch you with his well thought-out reasoning. It made you want to tear your hair out every time. Right now, though, you were paralysed by fear.

“Well, you leave me no choice,” he approached you slowly, trying to read you, trying to calculate which escape route you would take. Because whatever stood in that book, had you all jittery and he had to know why. Though he knew that you would never show him voluntarily.

Panic, your brain screamed. And your body scrambled up from the couch, trying to get away from Namjoon. You still clutched the book in front of your chest with both hands.

“No, no, no!” he lunged forward, reaching for you. “You’re not getting away!” He got your left foot before you could escape safely from the couch. Your body fell back onto the cushions, knocking the breath out of your lungs. But you didn’t let go of the book, no matter the pain it would cost.

In his haste to prevent your escape, he knocked down a few wooden reindeers and snowmen from the coffee table. Luckily, there was no glass there. You had told him right in the store that you would not be buying any glass decorations if he would be around. With his clumsiness, he would knock them down within mere seconds. Hell, he had almost dropped something right then and there in the shop. But you both had other things to worry about right now than your Christmas decorations.

“Namjoon,” you shout out anxiously. “Let go of me!” But his grip on you didn’t ease up.

“Not before you show me the freaking book, Y/N!” And he kept his word, his hands desperately trying to seize the book from your tight grip. But you wouldn’t give up so easily. You once more tried to get away from him, grasping for the armrest and pulling like your life depended on it. But he was just too strong, with one hand grabbling for the book and the other holding down your legs.

While fighting him off, you didn’t notice how he’d crawled up your body, getting in nearer reach of the book. And suddenly he was way too close to your face, hovering above you in such an intimate way he never had before.

There had been moments of course. Where he had caged you in a little at your door, when he had leaned in too close, when he had pulled you into his warm embrace… But that had been something different.

Now he laid on top of you, covering your body with his. His chest heaved against yours as he tried to catch his breath from fighting with you. His grey-dyed hair fell in streaks into his eyes and once more his skin glowed in the warm fuzzy light of the fairy lights that framed his head. For a second, the both of you just... stopped.

He looked deeply into your eyes; his pupils overshadowed with an emotion you couldn’t grasp. Your heart beat even faster and your brain felt like it would explode any minute. Your senses were heightened, and you could feel his skin burning on yours. It was… ravishing. Your body couldn’t get enough of it already.

Suddenly, he snapped the book out of your hand, forcing an evil laughter out of his mouth and the moment was gone. He had shamelessly used your messed up state to his advantage and now the book was in his hands.

He scrambled back up from his position on top of you, quickly getting away from you and taking the book with him so you wouldn’t come up with the idea of snatching it back from him. Well, you had resigned already anyway. There was no way you could stop the inevitable from happening now. You said your last goodbye to your friendship. He took one last look at your dishevelled and defeated state before he plopped down on the armchair.

Thump, thump, thump. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears like the drums of that one Christmas song that they always played on the radio, and your stomach took a heavy leap. No, you couldn’t watch this. It was just too much to handle. You grabbed for the plush Santa Namjoon had gotten you as a joke last year, and hid your face in the red fabric of his cloak. You peeked out anxiously, watching Namjoon.

Pages rustled as Namjoon slowly opened the book. His heart beat just as fast as yours as he searched for the right page. Not because he was anxious, but because of his excitement as to what he would get to read on that page. And then he finally found it.

He was not surprised that it was about you. He had actually predicted that. Why else would you react that way if this didn’t reveal something about you? But the content had him gasping out in astonishment.

To actually believe it, he had to read it more than once. It beat all of his wildest dreams. Not only had you caught feelings for him, but he had of course caught feelings for you as well. And quite some time ago too. He had wanted to confess more than once but he hadn’t had the guts. He was very afraid of losing you as well so this came as a very pleasant surprise to him.

Unable to help it, he read the passage once more and let his gaze on the image of you linger a little longer, feeling arousal crawl up his body. He had caught you staring at him here and there, when going for a swim in the summer or when he read a book, when you didn’t think he would notice. He had never given much thought to it though. He would have never guessed that you had thought about him, dreamed about him.

He needed a few to gather himself, to brace himself for what was to come. He couldn’t let this slide just like that now that he knew that you felt the same for him. Now that he knew what you were craving. And he wanted to give you exactly that. All night if you wanted to. He wanted to give you the pleasure that you deserved, see you writhing underneath his fingers, calling out his name so that everyone could hear what he did to you.

A mischievous grin passed over his face. He would take care of that wish of yours, as a Christmas gift. That he promised to himself and gathered all of his confidence for. His heartbeat was going through the roof but he didn’t want you to know, and tried to keep a calm face.

You peeked out once more as he closed the book. You tried to read his face, but there was nothing to work with. Had your friendship been ruined already? Would he just leave and never say a word to you ever again? You expected the worst, already feeling tears prick in your eyes.

Namjoon slowly got up from the armchair and now you were sure he would leave the apartment. You felt embarrassment, shame, and regret overwhelm you. But there was something in you that fought back. Your eyes grew big, you couldn’t just let him go like this. “Namjoon, I-“

But he cut you off mid-sentence. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He shook his head, putting the book down on the table and shoved it over towards you. Your gaze fell back to the image of you, a moaning mess in the bed. You couldn’t handle looking at it and instead gazed up at Namjoon and being met with an expression that you hadn’t expected at all.

He looked like a boy who had gotten the biggest present for Christmas, but there was also something a lot less innocent in his eyes. Holding your gaze, he came back over to the couch and crouched in front of you.

“You’ve been –“ He swallowed visibly, nervousness getting the best of him for a second, before he proceeded with confidence “–a very naughty girl, Y/N, haven’t you?” He cocked an eyebrow while putting both of his hands next to your legs that rested on the edge of the couch.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Never had you imagined that Namjoon would speak like this to you. You could not say much, your throat going dry, and just slowly nodded your head.

“Hmm, thought so,” he answered while letting his gaze wander over your form. “Well, what do we do about that? Naughty girls need to be punished, right?” His eyes drifted back to your face, satisfied he took notice of the effect he had on you. How your legs unconsciously rubbed together at his every movement.

With the heat rising from you, he felt drawn to you.

“But I think you’ve been pretty nice this year. I think we leave the punishment for another day and instead–“ He nodded towards the book, referring to the description of your dream under the picture. “– keep working on this.” He turned back towards you. “What do you think, Y/N?”

His words were music in your ears. This was more than you could wish for. You pinched yourself for a second, making sure it wasn’t another dream of yours, that you hadn’t just fallen asleep again in your bed. But it was as real as it could get. Arousal is already pooling in your panties, Namjoon’s deep voice resounding in your head.

By now, he was drawing small, soft circles on the skin of your thigh, patiently waiting for your answer. He wouldn’t do anything about it as long as you hadn’t given your consent. There was still a little voice inside of him that wasn’t sure if you really felt the same. He had no time to think too much about it though.

You cleared your throat, the effect he had on you clear as day. “I’d… love that.” You shyly answered, carefully putting a hand on Namjoon’s cheek. He leaned into your touch immediately, closing his eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling of the gentle action.

He pushed himself up a little, his face hovering in front of yours. You held your breath, excited for what was to come. He was even closer than before. You could feel puffs of his hot breath gently caressing your lips. His eyes kept yours caged, his pupils blown looking like black holes that swallowed you to take you to another dimension.

With his hand moving up to the side of your neck, it gingerly brushed against the skin and he left it at the nape of your neck. His face inched closer, barely any space left between your lips now. Your thumb grazed over his cheek, the skin underneath warm and tender. You could stay like this forever.

“May… may I kiss you?” Namjoon asked, gaze drifting between your shining eyes and your tempting lips. You took his breath away, making him weak in the knees. Why hadn’t he confessed to you sooner? He could have had it all already. You had both missed out on so much. But there was still so much time to make up for it all.

It took all of your willpower to not kiss him right then and there, but to answer his question first. You looked deep into his eyes, “Yes, I beg you to.”

And that was all that was needed for Namjoon to desperately press his lips against yours without hesitating for even a second. Both of you closed your eyes, relishing in the moment of the first kiss shared between the two of you. It was not at all how you had expected it to feel but so much more. Your heart took a leap at his soft lips that moved so lovingly against yours while his thumb stroked your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Namjoon had to take a break to catch his breath, soft laughter escaping his lips. His hand remained at the back of your neck and so did yours on his cheek. But this break didn’t last long because both of you were already hungry for more. Your other hand went into his hair while your mouth landed back on his.

Tugging a little at the strands, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan, his lips opening to the kiss. His tongue darted out, tapping against your lower lip and begging for entrance. You let him stew a little until both of your tongues met in a heated battle.

Slowly, Namjoon could feel himself getting hard. Your sweet lips got the best of him and he couldn’t do anything against it when his mind imagined them wrapped around his cock. He could feel it twitch in his pyjama pants, begging for attention. But Namjoon wanted for you to cum first. The outlook of getting to taste you with his tongue between your folds was too promising.

In fact, he didn’t want to wait any longer. As much as he enjoyed making out with you, he wanted to dig into the real fun. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead softly against yours. This time you had to catch your breath.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Namjoon whispered softly, asking for your permission to go on.

You pecked his lips adoringly. “I mean I’ve been dreaming about it.” Both of you chuckled lightly, caressing each other’s skin. “I couldn’t wish for more this Christmas.” You had to stifle a laugh. This was the most interesting Christmas you had ever had. And you loved it.

Namjoon made his way over to your ear with featherlight kisses to nibble on your earlobe before he hushed into your ear, making you shiver at the nickname he used for you, “I want you to tell me if you feel uncomfortable, baby girl.”

“I will,” you breathed back, enjoying the shivers that ran down your spine as Namjoon’s breath tickled your skin. You buzzed with excitement, awaiting his treatment.

“Okay, baby girl,” he moved down from your ear to your neck, nipping at the skin and grazing his teeth over your shoulder a little. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

While your breathing got heavier at these few words already, he gently pushed your thighs apart with his hands, his upper body moving in the space in between to have better access to your neck. His hands wandered over your inner thighs, setting your skin on fire and your blood boiling.

Another quiet moan escaped your mouth. It all felt just too heavenly. And it made Namjoon proud to know he was making you feel good. You deserved it and he was ready to give it to you for the rest of your life if it meant he would hear your sweet little moans.

As he nibbled lightly on your neck, his hands crawled up your shirt, pushing it up over your chest. His mouth unlatched to attach itself again to one of your nipples immediately, drawing sloppy circles around it. While one of his hands held up the shirt, the other sweetly caressed your other breast, brushing against the sensitive bud and making it stand up, aroused.

Throwing your head back, you pushed your upper body into Namjoon’s face. The treatment he blessed you with was paradisiac. If it was up to you, he could do that for the rest of eternity. Still, there was one place where you needed him a lot more…

“Joonie.” His nickname left your lips in a faint, breathless hush. He let out a breathy moan against your nipple. God, now his mind would forever replay this moment and your needy plea whenever someone would call him by this nickname. You were his rise and his fall.

He pecked your nipple one last time before looking up from in between your breasts with hooded eyes. “Yes, baby girl?”

“I need you,” you breathed out, hands still playing with his soft hair.

He cocked his head, one of his eyebrows rising. “Need me how?”

You let out a quiet, frustrated sigh. He knew exactly how, teasing you in a vulnerable moment. With your cheeks heating up, you looked away for a second. This was still very unchartered territory to you.

Feeling one of his hands back on your cheek, he tilted your head to look at him. Eyes full of genuity, he softly told you, “You don’t need to be ashamed when you’re with me. You can freely tell me what you want because I want to make you feel good.” He took your hand and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, softly muttering against your skin, “I want you to feel safe with me.”

It was easy to tell he was being serious and honest. How did you deserve this man? You mouthed a quiet ‘thank you’ to him, feeling more at ease now. And it gave you the confidence to state your desire.

“Joonie… I need your mouth on me and your tongue in me, please,” you begged as you didn’t break off the eye contact. His eyes lit up at your words and he nodded eagerly, pressing one more kiss on your knuckles before he let your hand go.

“If you need something to hold onto, my hair is as good as anything else,” Namjoon told you, winking at you saucily before levelling his head with your clothed core. You held in a breath as he put a featherlight kiss to your inner thigh before nipping on the smooth skin.

His hands wandered over your lower legs towards your waist where they played with the hem of your pyjama shorts, ghosting over your skin. He could smell your wetness and it drove him crazy. He was just as riled up as you were.

He looked up from between your legs, giving you a very similar view as your dream had. You still couldn’t believe that this was all actually happening.

“Baby girl? Could you do me a favor?” His hands slipped back under your shirt for a second, drawing soft circles on your lower back.

You nodded eagerly, willing to do anything as long as he’d continue his exploration down your pants.

“Could you lift your hips for me a little?” He nodded towards your hips. “We need to get these out of the way.”

You obeyed his request, leaning back while lifting up your hips from the couch. All you wanted was his mouth on you.

Namjoon sucked in a breath, preparing himself for the view he was about to get. He had dreamed of that moment many, many times. In the shower when the thoughts of you got over his head, in bed when he had had another vivid dream of you in his arms.

He gently pulled down both your pyjama shorts and your panties, dragging them slowly over your legs to fully enjoy this moment. The clothing items in question hit one of the snowmen in the face as Namjoon carelessly threw them over his shoulder.

You felt the cold air hit your sensitive skin, dragging in a breath as it came in contact with the rough material of the couch. You needed release desperately right now, even little things like these throwing you off. You sank back into the couch a little.

Heartbeat strumming in his ears, Namjoon’s gaze wandered between your legs, laying eyes on your glistening folds for the first time. It was a sight to behold, at least for him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, dragging one hand through his hair while lowering back down between your legs.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered while pushing his arms under your legs and pulling them up on his shoulders so he could get better access. You relaxed your upper body on the backrest while shifting your hips up to the edge of the couch so that not only you were comfortable, but it would also be easier for Namjoon.

He gave you one last smile before pressing his head between your legs, his hair pleasantly tickling the inner skin of your thighs. You could feel hot puffs of breath hitting your sensitive folds, making you shiver around him. He hummed lightly, pleased at your reaction.

With his hands gently holding down your thighs, he pressed soft kisses around your pussy, nipping at the skin here and there and biting down softly. He closed his eyes, savoring the last moment before he would get to taste you.

With one hand holding you up, you entangled the other back into his hair, threading through the strands. Your soft gasps filled the air, encouraging Namjoon on.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, dropping a sloppy kiss onto your pussy. Tongue darting out between his lips, he took a long lick along your glistening folds. You tasted so good, he was glad that you would be the first meal of his day besides the coffee.

A strangled moan reached his hair and he opened his eyes to watch you throw your head back in pleasure. You looked like a goddess in the dim light of the morning and the fairy lights, the sinful image burned into his mind forever.

One of his hands reached around your leg to spread your folds for him, your clit coming into view. He latched his mouth onto it, sucking it in like a starved man.

Waves of pleasure rolled over you, feet pressing down on Namjoon’s back. If he kept this up, you would be falling apart in mere minutes. Your hands tugged on his hair, urging him to continue his treatment of your pussy. “Don’t stop,” you breathed out.

He replaced his lips with his thumb, caressing your bundle of nerves while his mouth moved further down. His tongue hungrily lapped at your walls, desperate to catch every taste it could get.

Your hips moved on your own as they pressed themselves against his face willingly, desperate for a release. You could feel your orgasm slowly approaching as Namjoon worked his magic on you.

As his tongue found your entrance, he slowly pushed it inside, before swirling it around a little. You gasped for air as you could feel it massaging your walls, back arching up from the couch. After letting you adjust to the feeling of his tongue inside you, he started darting it in and out at a rapid pace, thumb still fumbling your clit.

His nickname fell from your lips like a waterfall, wonderful music to his ears. You begged him not to stop, promises of you being close spurred him on, going down on you even faster. He could feel his rock-hard cock straining against his pyjama pants, begging to be released. But it was not yet the time.

He needed you to cum all over his tongue first and, hell, he would make sure of that. Feeling your walls contracting around his tongue, he put a little more pressure on your clit, circling and rubbing it gently with his fingers, trying to take you over the edge. You were almost there, he could feel it.

“Joonie, fuck, I am-” The sentence got lost between a heavy mess of moans and whimpers as you finally came with one last stroke around Namjoon’s tongue. You closed your eyes, orgasm blazing through your body in pleasurable waves.

Namjoon lapped up everything he could get, guiding you through your orgasm. As the moans and the whimpers lessened, his mouth, albeit grudgingly, detached from your folds, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before he looked up about you through his lashes.

As you looked down, you were met with a very vivid image of your last night’s dream as Namjoon’s skin glowed from your juices that were smeared all around his mouth. His hair had fallen into his eyes, not able to hide the playful glint in his eyes. His cheeks were a flushed red, chest heaving for air.

“That was… amazing,” you whispered as you cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the hot skin. You leaned over him, stealing a kiss and tasting yourself on his tongue. “Thank you.”

Namjoon chuckled lightly, taking pride in making you feel so good. He nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing in your delicate scent. “I think we both actually have someone else to thank.” Both of your gazes fell onto the book that still laid open on the coffee table.

You grinned from ear to ear at his words. “Well, thank you, Santa, I guess then? For helping us idiots?” Both of you couldn’t hold in your laughter at the situation. What a naughty Christmas it had been for sure!

Quietness settled over the two of you for a minute as you enjoyed each other’s company. As Namjoon slowly got up from his kneeling position, you noticed his hard manhood through his pants. Licking your lips, you felt yourself getting wet again. Your hunger for Namjoon had only just awakened.

“How about… a shower?” you proposed, cocking a head at Namjoon. “I think it’s time I’ll take care of you.” Pushing yourself up from the couch, you let your hands roam freely over his upper body.

Namjoon snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you against him. “As if I could say no to that.” You could feel his cock through the soft fabric of his pants pressing against your thigh. Namjoon leaned down, his lips against your ear.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he whispered as he softly started kissing you again under the shining lights of the fairy lights and a mistletoe magically grew down from the ceiling. Santa has his way in fulfilling wishes…

373 notes · View notes

carfashiongurgaon · 1 year

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bestintheparsec · 4 years

Text

Falling

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Frankie’s stuck in his head about you. This definitely works as a standalone but I wrote it as a sequel to A Little Bit of Sugar

A/N: So I tried something different when I wrote this one - it’s unlike anything else I’ve written, but I hope you like it and I hope this brings some warmth to start off your new year!

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: a disgusting amount of softness (I apologize), angst but not really?, one minor mention of blood/injury

Frankie matches his stride to yours as you walk down the gravel path back to your place. He tries to pay attention to something, anything, other than the nervous flickering of warmth in his chest—how you pull your coat tighter around yourself when a breeze hits, the sound of your boots clacking on the ground with each step, the colorful holiday lights nearby that cast a subtle glow on your hair.

It doesn't help.

He knows the directions well enough now—you’ve only been on a few dates but he’s walked you home every time. You look up at him and say something that makes him laugh, and he tries to let that feeling of ease course through him, willing it to last longer.

It doesn't.

He’s afraid he’ll blow it—the fact that he’s been on more than one date with you is already more than he expected. Hell, the fact that you'd even wanted to see him again beyond the coffee shop you'd met at was more than he expected.

Each time after your evenings together, the only thing he’s given and taken has been a quiet embrace, a question if you’d like to meet up again next week. And each time, you’ve said yes. But it hasn’t been anything other than that. Just an exchange of shy smiles, fleeting gazes, and maybe an awkward laugh as you wave and he walks off.

Frankie huffs quietly—chuckles at the irony of being beside himself with happiness while simultaneously being unable to act like a normal human being around you. He hasn’t felt this comfortable around anyone new in a long time. Even though it’s only been a few evenings he’s spent with you, he knows himself and the difference in the way he’s been falling asleep a little faster every night, the way he feels the rest of the world and its problems melt away on these few evenings, just for a while.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t want to fuck this up. What if you don’t feel the same way—if you’re only hanging out with him as a friend? He shakes his head—that can’t be right. Because that brightness in your eyes when you look at him, how you smile and glance down at the ground when he tells you he enjoyed the night—he knows he mirrors it all. So he can’t be crazy. That’s what he keeps telling himself, anyways.

You break him out of the brief reverie, mentioning a place you think he’d like to go next time. Next time. He breaks out a grin—he really would like it. His hand sways as he walks, lightly brushing against the hem of the back of your jacket. He wants to take your hand, feel its warmth in his, bring it to his lips for the lightest of kisses. But he can't do it. Too soon, he tells himself.

After you’ve both passed the same familiar sights along the path, you finally make it to your house. You turn to face him, and Frankie feels that nervousness creep up on him again. You have that smile that makes him melt lingering on your lips, your hands shoved into your pockets as you look at him, an awkward silence falling between you as you shift your weight from one foot to another. Fuck, what is wrong with him?

He tells you again that he had a wonderful time, a genuine softness in his eyes and heat in his cheeks. He feels his heart about to pound out of his chest. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, telling him the same and how you look forward to seeing him again. Those damn butterflies again. They seem to give him a nudge, almost as impatient as he is. Something about the glowing street lights and joyful ambiance nudges him a little harder—practically whacks him upside the head to just do it.

And then…

He murmurs a curt good night, turning to head back the way he came, not looking at whatever expression falls over your face as he does.

Frankie makes it exactly three steps before pausing where he is. He bites the inside of his cheek, briefly closing his eyes before turning back around—you’ve already started turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Frankie says abruptly, his voice more gruff than he expects as he calls your name. You turn and meet his eyes again, looking at him questioningly as he walks quickly up to you, stopping when he's inches away, before he can change his mind.

His hand trembles as he moves it to gently cradle your face, your surprised but soft, half-lidded gaze threatening to knock the air out of him.

“Can I...kiss you?” he murmurs, and before he can even think about what he’s just asked, your lips are on his, his hands on your waist pulling you in closer as he kisses you; delicate, light kisses of his warm lips to yours, a contrast from the biting winter air that surrounds you both.

Frankie’s bringing in some firewood from the yard when he sees you pulling up in front of his house. He’s spent the last thirty minutes chopping up some extra wood to make his house more cozy for your date tonight. Really it's just takeout and a movie, but something feels...different about it. You’ve gone to various places for your dates, but never his actual home, not for long. It’s been a rainy, cold week, so Frankie suggested staying in tonight, which you more than happily agreed to.

The rain has lightened up a little bit, slightly dampening your clothes as you get out of the car and grab your things. Frankie feels his pulse start to quicken, ignoring the mist of cool rain on his skin. God, even in this weather, you’re breathtaking.

Truthfully, he’d been thrilled at the idea of having you spend a date night in his home. But he didn’t anticipate the way he was more nervous this morning than he ever had been with you before, and he didn't have a clue as to why. He’s spent the day trying to make sure everything was perfect—cleaning up, making sure he had the food planned, spending a little longer picking out his clothes earlier, everything. Is this plaid button-up too much? Too little? It’s been driving him crazy, and he doesn’t understand it. His home is his safe place—a happy place, if he has such a thing. He wants it to be that way for you, too.

For a split second he imagines you with him at home; not just tonight, but always. Coming home to each other. Staying warm under the covers at night, fresh cups of coffee in the morning. Just as quickly, the thought disappears. It isn’t right. You’re good; too good to him, for him. How can he ever live up to what you deserve?

The slam of your car door brings him back to reality.

Messing with the firewood tonight probably wasn’t the best idea. Your smile fades when you get closer to him, a concerned frown on your face as you ask what happened to him.

He’d had a little accident when cutting up the wood earlier, giving himself a gash on his cheek, which started to bleed. A lot. It probably looks worse than it actually is. Because tonight is the perfect night for you to not be able to do anything right, Francisco. He was going to clean it up after he got done before you got here, but it’d taken him longer than he’d expected to get everything finished.

He brushes it off, telling you it’s no big deal, just a scratch. Not worth a fuss. Which you don’t buy, at all. Of course. By now you’ve both been standing in the drizzling rain for long enough that your hair has been matted down on your head and your clothes are starting to get soaked through.

He quickly gestures for you to come inside, the warmth of his home immediately comforting against the frigid chill of the rain.

“Frankie, please let me help with that,” you tell him as soon as he shuts the door behind you.

“It’s fine, it’s nothing—” he starts, but you cut him off, telling him you don’t mind and that dinner can wait. Way to start off the evening right, he swears silently at himself as he goes to grab the kit. He pulls a towel off the shelf, too, then heads back out to you in the living room. Wrapping the towel around you first, he takes a seat beside you in front of the fireplace and hands you the kit.

You start picking through it for what you need, but he stops you for a moment. Taking the towel off your shoulders, he carefully wipes away at the beads of rain on your skin while you watch silently. He clenches his jaw, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Once he’s finished, you murmur a soft thank you and he nods once, letting you get back to what you were doing.

With a gentle hand, you start to clean up the cut. Your fingers trace along his skin as though he’s made of glass; maybe he is right now. But Frankie doesn’t even flinch—he can barely focus on anything except you. Those kind eyes, your pursed lips as you concentrate on the task at hand...There’s definitely something wrong with him, and it’s not the wound on his face.

Before he knows it, you’re done, tucking everything back into the kit. “There…” you whisper softly, trailing off as your eyes examine your work, your fingers still lingering on his cheek.

Clean hands on broken skin.

“Th—There,” Frankie repeats, barely audible. He sees that twinkle in your eyes again, like maybe you’re distracted by other things, too. He feels his chest constrict.

This isn’t the first time he’s felt like he’s been giving you the short end of the stick. He bites the inside of his cheek, glancing down at the floor. He’s done things; bad things. It’s not fair to keep this...relatively new relationship going, when in the end he has nothing else to give except himself.

But as much as he feels like he's stringing you along for nothing...everything just falls into place when he’s around you. And the way you make him feel, it's like he has everything worth holding onto. That has to mean something, right?

He clears his throat, his mind coming back to you. You watch him with patient eyes, slowly removing your hand from his face. He immediately misses your touch.

“I—” he blurts out, taking your hand in his, gripping it for a second before letting go. But you take it again, the lightest of smiles on your lips, and Frankie feels warmth rush into his face again.

Before he can ramble any further, he leans into you, taking your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours. It surprises you at first, but you move closer to him, too. The kisses start out slow, tender, but then deepen as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer. You reciprocate, running your fingers through his dampened hair as his lips move urgently, desperately against yours, like this can’t last forever. He doesn’t want to think about that. For now, he wants to get lost in you.

When you finally break away from each other, it’s too soon; it’s always too soon. Frankie’s breathless, resting his forehead on yours, his hand tracing along your cheek, down to your jaw and then resting along your neck.

He lets a few seconds pass, trying to gather himself before speaking up again. “I...was going to say...I hope you like what I picked up for dinner,” he whispers, shyness suddenly coming over him.

You chuckle at his attempted change of subject, crinkles under your eyes that make his heart soften even more. When you move your hand onto his chest, he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat pounding.

“It’s—I’m sure it’s perfect, Frankie. Whatever you chose.” You smile at him, and it’s then that Frankie wonders just how long he’s been a goner.

Frankie makes his way up the path to your house, the same one he's taken countless times now.

You’d told him to let himself in once he got to your place, so he opens the door after a few knocks and calls out your name. You don’t answer but the lights are on, and he catches the subtle smell of something burning, followed by some shuffling noises coming from the kitchen. Dinner is at your house tonight, as you’ve both grown fond of staying in rather than being out and having to deal with the bustling crowds.

He takes off his hat and calls your name again, a bit of concern in his voice this time as he smooths down his hair. You finally respond with a rushed muttering of acknowledgment and he follows your voice to the kitchen. When he gets there, he finds you hunched over, muttering some profanities as you pull a tray out of the oven.

You set it down and tuck the stray strands of hair behind your ear before turning to look at him. Frankie smiles, that same giddy grin he can’t seem to hold back whenever he sees you—but it drops a little when he takes in the expression on your face now. You look disheveled and exhausted, although you give him a half-hearted smile.

You and Frankie have been with each other on some of those longer days—the days where everything feels out of place. For many of those days you didn’t even know it was that kind of day for him. But it’s on those days that he’s found comfort, safety in you. Little things, big things; none of it matters when he’s with you.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asks, moving closer to wrap his arms around you and place a soft kiss onto your head. When you pull away, you motion at the tray you’d just taken out.

You tell him you’d been baking pastries when you got home—his favorite kind—a surprise for when he got here. But it was a long day at work, and you were drained, so you’d decided to take a nap while everything was in the oven...and then proceeded to sleep through the timer.

“Everything’s ruined,” you tell him dejectedly, followed by a soft apology.

Frankie’s been so focused on the fact that you went out of your way to do something for him that he barely catches on to how upset you are.

“Hey—wait, no. Nothing’s ruined,” he reassures you, his voice instantly sweeter than sugar as he places his hands on your shoulders, then moves to cup your cheek.

Frankie thinks of the times you’d been together and things hadn’t gone according to plan—he’s not known for being the smoothest man alive, after all. Times where it was one mishap or another—but then he'd see that playful glint in your eyes, and you would make him laugh about it until his insides ached, and it would make him feel like nothing had gone awry at all.

“It’s just that...I wanted to do something special for you. It’s not much and it’s stupid, but—” you peer at him with those eyes that make him weak in the knees, and Frankie notices that same grounding warmth appearing in his chest again.

It's not the first time he's felt unbelievably lucky.

“Hey, it’s not stupid, silly,” he repeats, chuckling when you gesture dramatically at the burnt pastries on the table. “You didn’t need to do anything for me...you really made my favorites?” A gentle smile plays on his lips.

You laugh softly and nod, getting a grin from him in return.

He runs the pad of his thumb along your cheek, nonchalantly stating that you can make another batch and that he can help—you smile back, even though you both know he’s not much of a baker.

His eyes trace delicately over your features for the first time since he got here. He sees the patches of flour in your hair, on your clothes, and his eyes soften. He can’t believe you’re his —that he’s yours.

He thinks of how your nose crinkles when you smile after teasing him; how he’ll send you a text during the day when something makes him think of you, only to realize you’d never left his thoughts at all. The way the guys have been well-meaningly teasing him for acting differently lately. The way he hasn’t felt right lately—but not in a bad way—just different; like he was numb for a long time and now the novocaine has worn off.

And he realizes he’s fallen completely in love with you.

It was a rough night for Frankie. He’s been there before—nights where his mind is louder than the sharpest rings of thunder and he can’t get it to shut up, where all else around him seems hopeless, lost.

Dawn is just barely starting to peek through between the cracks in the curtains when Frankie opens his eyes, unsure of how long he was out for but knowing it couldn’t have been long. He closes them again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he tries to avoid coming back to his senses.

But he does come back; back to the cool air on his exposed neck above the blanket, to the weight of himself sinking into the plush mattress. And he finds himself next to something warm—you. His eyes flutter open again, taking in the form of your silhouette in the dark as you lay next to him, fast asleep.

He’d called you. He didn’t want to—it was late, later than it usually hits him. But you picked up, and you seemed to know before he said a single word. He didn’t even tell you what was wrong at first, just muttered profuse apologies laced through broken whispers. He really didn’t hear much of what you said after that—but just hearing your voice was enough. It’s always enough, more than he ought to have. I’ll be there soon, you told him. You hung up before he could argue otherwise.

That’s how you ended up here, in his arms, though it started off with him in yours.

He can’t see much of you, but Frankie marvels at the way your quiet breaths steady his own heartbeat, how the fabric of your shirt falls delicately over the curve of your waist where his hand rests now.

He wraps his whole arm over you, gently pulling you flush against him as you unconsciously tuck yourself into the space below his neck. His mind is still heavy, but simultaneously he feels safe. Home.

He holds you like this for a while longer, savors the warmth of you against him, the silent peace that washes over him. He doesn’t know if he’ll fall asleep again but he tries, counting his exhales as his fingers trace along your back.

It’s not long before you stir a bit in his arms, rubbing your eyes as you recall where you are. You put a hand on his chest, then move it to hold his face as you whisper some sleepy words of love and reassurance. They’re words he’s said to you time and time again, as if they’re in limited supply. And you tell him just as often, but he’s always found it hard to let himself believe it.

You always seem to know exactly what he needs before he realizes it himself—even if it’s the darker hours of the night—and you’re always ready to drop everything just for him...it’s everything he would do for you, although he’d do so much more if he possibly could.

Frankie knows now. It’s here in the dark, with you in the fragile space in his arms and the hollows of his heart that he knows—you love him just as much as he loves you.

Your groggy voice fills the silence. “I’ve always wondered ‘why not me’,” you murmur, still half-asleep.

He caresses your face with the back of his hand, a gentle smile as he asks what you’re talking about.

“Everyone around me...It seemed like everyone was finding their person. But never me,” you repeat, yawning as you blink your eyes open.

“But I know now...” you trail off, moving to rest your head on his chest. “I never found anyone else because I was supposed to meet you.”

You say it so casually, so calmly but it doesn’t hit Frankie with any less force. You’re too drowsy to think anything of it, but these words will carry him for a long time. Wherever he is, he’s never more at home than when he’s with you.

You don’t add anything else, simply draping your arm over him and moving in closer as you curl up and try to find sleep again. He’s unable to find the right words to respond, simply leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head.

Frankie reaches down and pulls the blanket over both of your shoulders, shutting his eyes once again and tries to join you in that state of slumber. It’ll be easier, he thinks. You’re here, and he’s home. And you fit perfectly in his arms—you always do.

“Okay, just keep them closed,” Frankie says with underlying excitement in his voice. He’s standing behind you with his large hands over your eyes, and you’re unable to peek through them.

You laugh with confusion. “Seriously, what are you doing, Frankie?”

He doesn’t answer, just shushes you and carefully guides you forward, helping you sit down on the bar stool by the kitchen counter.

“Okay, okay. You good here?” He asks, resisting and chuckling when you try to pry his hands away.

“Yes, Francisco, now move your giant hands,” you demand playfully.

He releases his hands and you look around, still confused as your eyes fall on the countertop in front of you. “A...cup of coffee?”

He’s still standing behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Not just a cup of coffee,” Frankie huffs with feigned offense. “Coffee from the shop we met at.”

You chuckle again, still perplexed, but he just puts his hands on your shoulder. “See if you can guess the drink,” he tells you, his tone entirely mischievous.

You raise your brows, but wrap your hands around the paper cup, letting it warm your hands and inhaling the familiar scent of your favorite shop. Finally taking a sip, you concentrate and try to pick out anything that might be different about it, but come up with nothing.

“This is my usual order…” you shake your head, taking another sip and trying to figure out what he’s being so sneaky about.

Still nothing.

You give up, setting the cup down and spinning around on the stool to face him. “Frankie, what—”

But he’s not right behind you—he’s on one knee on the floor. You let out a tiny gasp and swear your heart stops beating as your mind goes from confusion to realization to a complete flooding of surprised emotions. You slide off the stool and stand in front of him, trying not to burst into tears while failing to maintain your composure. Frankie has this timid but equally giddy grin on his face as he looks up at you, holding the black velvet box in his hand.

Frankie’s so distracted watching your reaction that he completely forgets that he needs to say something now, and his mind seems to finally register the apprehension in the rest of his body. The grin changes into a nervous smile as he inhales, then exhales.

“I—fuck,” he trails off, trying to gather his thoughts again as you chuckle with amusement. “I...you know you’re the world to me, and then some,” he starts, a tremor in his voice. “I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you, and I…You make me a better person—hell, you make me want to be a better person…” he continues to ramble as you move closer before dropping to the floor with him, throwing your arms around him.

“You’d make me the happiest man alive if...wait, I mean, I’m already the happiest man alive, but I would be even happier…” His supportive arms embrace you as he laughs, full of relief, and murmurs into your hair between your sobs. “...if you would do me the honor of being my wife.”

He’s so beside himself that he’d missed all the times you’d repeatedly said yes while in his arms, so you tell him again, his face in your hands, and he beams as you pull away to look at him.

Once he slips the dainty, understated ring onto your finger, you pull him back in, his lips meeting yours as he holds you like this is the only place he was ever meant to be—much like how you’d found each other in that quaint little coffee shop what seems like forever ago.

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #my ff

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certifiedskywalker · 3 years

Text

London Bridge - Peter Parker

You’re far from home, yet you have never felt more safe, more loved.

London’s weather had been the main topic of conversation since you and the rest of the Midtown School of Science and Technology field trip group arrived in the city. Flash, who boasted about visiting the UK before, lamented about it’s chronically grey skies and puddled-packed sidewalks. He also complained about the staple London tourist traps while you and Peter whispered about sneaking out for a night to yourselves.

You planned on leaving your hotel rooms after curfew to buy whatever British snacks you found at the nearby convenience shop and have a picnic in the small plaza down the road. It would have been your first official date since you both returned from the ashes Thanos left behind. Of course you had seen each other, after Peter finished saving the world with the Avengers, but not like you did before. There was a new sadness about Peter, an anxiety that you hoped to ease with some sense of normalcy. A picnic was normal, and a good plan. However, it was a plan left unfulfilled, lost in the grey that surrounded you as you darted past abandoned cars. This dreary gloom had nothing to do with London’s weather or signature rain. It was ash and debris that fell around you now. It was ash and debris that coated your throat with every nervous breath.

Where was he? You lost sight of Peter when you ran with MJ, Ned, and Flash. He was a blur of red and black against the dulled blue sky. You would never get used to the sight of Peter in his suit, in action. Your best friend since preschool was Spiderman. If it weren’t for the smoke and danger you were pushing through, you would have smiled at the thought, but panic flooded over your shoulders. Crash after crash, waves that winded you as you bounded across Tower Bridge.

Some selfish part of you wished that you and Peter snuck out anyway. Wished that Peter ignored the threat, let the Avengers, those who were left, take care of whatever impending doom swarmed about the city. Then, you could have spent today tucked under his arm on a double-decker tour bus, listening to a guide detail the history of English architecture. Then, you and Peter could pretend the Blip never happened, that loss was far away, left behind in another country. But Peter’s heart was too good to leave a vile thing lie. That was why you searched for him, scanned the steel suspension chains and hangers for any sign of a web-slinging super.

You nearly called out to him, used his name. Even when he was Spiderman, he was still your Peter. You had to bite your tongue to keep from shouting, from exposing his identity. Though the silence of the dilapidated bridge was becoming too much to bear. Searing, fresh fear surged through your bones as you continued your trek across Flash’s despised tourist trap.

Desperation made your chest ache with some wild pain. You couldn’t lose him, not like this. Not so soon after coming back to each other. Tears slipped down your cheeks at the idea of Peter being gone. How would you tell May? How would you…

You couldn’t finish the thought, your heart wouldn’t let you. Instead, it spurred you forward. Carefully, you walked around a car that crashed into the upturned rumble. One of the pieces of scattered pavement tripped up your foot.

“Shit!” You hissed as you caught yourself.

When you freed your dust-covered shoe from the crumbling stone, you turned right back around, towards the opposite, smoke-shrouded end of the bridge. Your eyes studied the smog, stared straight done the darker center. Then, the darkness grew thinner and thinner and thinner until only trailing wisps surrounded the emerging figure. Limping, bloodied, and bruised, a boy stumbled out of the grey haze and knocked the air from your lungs. He looked like an ashen angel, hair all in matted curls as he stepped out into the rays of sunlight that splintered through the debris. It was then you saw the familiar stretches of red and black fabric clinging to muscled limbs. “Peter,” you whispered, soft enough so that, if there was anyone still stranded on the bridge, no one else could hear. Peter could though, with his enhanced senses reaching out towards you. You saw the boy nod and that was all the confirmation you needed.

In a burst of sudden speed, you rushed towards Peter. The gap closed as he tried his best to meet you in the middle. Though, whatever injury that caused his limp limited him. Not that it mattered to you as you pushed yourself to go faster, to wake yourself from the nightmare of grey.

As soon as he was within reach, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders. You heard a small gasp of pain and pulled away slightly, to look into his eyes, read for severity. “Sorry, what’s hurt-” “No, no, c’mere,” Peter murmured, pulling you right back into his embrace. You were too relieved and overwhelmed to fight back. So, instead, you buried your face in the crook of Peter’s neck and held onto him as tightly as you could. He smelled of sweat and blood and deodorant, that pine-scented, travel-sized Old Spice stick you campaigned against when you both went shopping for this trip.

Now, you loved the smell as it stuck out from the cement dust and copper tang of blood. It was normal, it was Peter.

“We should’ve snuck out,” you whimpered against the skin of his neck. “Gone on our picnic.” Peter nodded, pressing the side of his head to yours. “Y-Yeah,” he breathed, “yeah maybe we should’ve.”

Slowly, you pried yourself from Peter’s frame and looked into his eyes once more. Darkness was gathered under his eyes, though you weren’t sure if it was a bruise or tiredness. With trembling fingers, you gently brushed some of the gathered grime from his face. He winced only slightly, a sharp intake of breath before he leaned into your touch.

His skin was warm against your palm as you moved to cup his jaw. You stared into his eyes for a moment before you glanced along his features. Cuts and swelled bumps covered him. But he was there, alive and standing before you.

“You look terrible,” you teased through the small tears of relief. You felt Peter’s hands slip from your waist as he wiped the drops off your cheeks. The gloved pads of his thumbs rubbed gently against your skin and you held his gaze. There was a furrow in his brow that told you he had something he wanted to say. You waited for an equally teasing retort, a ‘well, I did save us so’ or a ‘you’re covered in dust’, but nothing of the sort fell from Peter’s lips. He merely pulled you close. Chests flush and wonderfully close, Peter ducked his head down and captured you in a kiss.

Since the Blip, you and Peter had been close but not like you had been before. That kiss on Tower Bridge, hidden in the grey of London, finally closed the gap. Even when you pulled away to catch your breath, it felt as if you had never parted from Peter at all.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes still closed as you both recovered from the kiss. A smile crept up on your lips at the three words. You traced your fingertips along Peter’s jaw, enticement enough to coax his eyes open. “I know...” Peter let out a soft, breathy chuckle before you could continue. “Just like in Star Wars.” “I-I,” you shook your head as the last of your tears slipped down your cheeks. “Why...why are you like this?”

“Gotta have a sense of humor if I look terrible,” he replied, wiping at your tears once more.

“You only look terrible right now,” you clarified with a soft smile. Peter returned the expression and his eyes flicked from your gaze to your lips then back again. “I love you too.” Peter’s smile widened at your words and, like the sunlight, cut through the grey of the battle-weary city. Before you could be blinded by his brightness, he leaned down and kissed you again.

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loveislattes · 3 years

Text

Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Talk of depression and stressful life, mentions of unnamed character death, mentions of beheading/dismembered head and some minor blood/gore (not too detailed), cursing, mentions of family in the hospital, demon!Dark (akin to jinn or genie), and pet names.

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This first chapter is allllll story setting. Part two will have the good ol' rough and dominating Dark fucking.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Look, I think it’s just best if you take some time off.”

Though worded nicely, you instinctually felt the pang of panic and anger already bristling in your chest.

“Time off…” you murmur, eyes sliding down to your boss’s desk in thought, “As in, a week or two or…?”

You let the implication hang heavy in the air. There was a telling silence that followed your question. When you finally met his gaze again, your boss let out a hefty sigh. Before he even said anything, you knew what his answer was by the sympathy on his face alone.

“We won’t fight your unemployment for the first few months, which hopefully will be enough time for you to find another place of employment. I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but between the company making cutbacks and your recent drop in productivity, I had to-”

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed sharply, interrupting him before he could finish the excuse.

Rage fueled your motions, forcing you to your feet while your eyes narrowed on the man you’d once thought a decent person.

“A drop in productivity?” you scoffed, “My apartment building was just destroyed in a freak fire two weeks ago that, of course, my insurance refused to cover. I’ve been bouncing place to place between motels and friend’s homes until I can afford another deposit on the measly pay you give us. My mother is in the hospital, in the ICU, after a freak hit and run. My car broke down yesterday and I walked thirty fucking minutes in the pouring rain today just to make sure you assholes weren’t a man down with all this work. And you knew all of this, but you still decided to fire me? I can’t- You know what, fuck you. Fuck you and fuck this place! I hope this whole company shuts down and you get to experience even a modicum of the instability I’ve had to!”

Before he could respond, you slammed the chair back into place against the desk and stormed from the room. You could feel the confused gazes from your coworkers as you marched to the door but didn’t dare spare them a glance. Most of them you considered to be your friends and you knew you’d have to explain everything later, but you couldn’t allow anything other than anger to inhabit your body at that moment. One bit of sadness and you would crumble. Rage would keep you safe until you made it to your temporary home for the night.

Little curses and fury-filled resentment spilled from your lips as you stepped out into the dreary public. Of course, it was still raining. You hadn’t even dried off from your trek to work and now you were thrown right back out into the storm. A timely crack of lightning rumbled across the sky as you shot one last middle finger back at the door.

“I can’t believe this shit,” you grumbled.

Pulling your raincoat up over your head, you kept your gaze down and began your journey back to the hotel. The one upside to all the rain was that the sidewalks were nearly barren. Cars sped by on the busy roads but you were alone on foot. In fact, you didn’t see a single soul until you were on the block housing your hotel, and somehow that lonely occupant still managed to slam into you.

“Excuse you,” you muttered.

“So sorry, please excuse me.”

The person’s voice sent shivers down your spine and every last hair stood up on your arms. Reflexively you pulled back as a hand touched your side, ready to give them a mouthful, but they were moving on by the time you could gather your wits about you. All you caught was a tall form in a black business suit striding off in the opposite direction.

With an irked tsk and a mutter of “Fucking asshole”, you rushed into the lobby, stomping the rain from your shoes along the rubber mat. Sure you were pissed off but you still had the human decency not to create more work for others.

You managed a little nod to the desk clerk on your way by to the elevator. As you watched the numbers climb slowly down, you mentally questioned the fates if the world was against you. The elevator stopped on literally every- single- floor; All 25. Trying to maintain your composure, you leaned up against the wall and let your eyes flutter closed, slowly breathing in and out rhythmically. Just a little longer and you’d be in the safety of solitude. You could let it all out.

The ding of the lift doors opening pulled you out of your little meditative session and you immediately let out a grateful sigh of appreciation upon realizing it was empty. Being stuck in a small metal box with others for an undetermined amount of time made your skin crawl, much less when you were already on the edge of snapping. You mashed the close button repeatedly until the metal doors finally sealed shut and the elevator began to move. The rest of the journey was a blur until you stopped at your room door and fished your card out of your pocket, coming out with not only the plastic key but a large silver coin.

“The fuck?” you muttered.

As the door buzzed open, you flipped the coin over in your fingers, trying to think back on when you had gotten it. You were pretty sure you’d never seen anything like it before; completely void of any details on one side but the other filled with finely engraved words.

The loud startling thump of your keys as you threw them on the nightstand wasn’t even enough to draw your concentration away from the interesting little trinket. It took a few minutes and some good lighting but you eventually figured out what was written; the discovery only confusing you further.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“Yeah… that’s not creepy at all,” you sighed.

Tossing the coin on the nightstand next to your keys, you sloughed off your wet clothes and tossed them in the small hamper next to your duffle bag. After this horrid morning, you needed a long hot shower before you pondered on any strange coins or the mental shithole that had become your life.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you spent under the burning water but, by the time you exited, you were both hungry and in dire need of some caffeine.

“Or a nap. A nap could be heavenly,” you murmured to yourself.

Towel around your head, you dropped into the bed naked and took a moment to revel in the sheets against your freshly lotioned skin. There was hardly a better feeling. Thank god you had the good sense to buy some of your own sheets rather than rely on whatever the hotels had to offer. It made your day the tiniest bit better.

As you leaned back against the headboard, you snagged up the coin once more. The metal was cool against your warm fingers as you flipped it around and around. Did you dare give it a try? What was the worst outcome: You felt silly for believing a random coin and no one would ever know? Although, what if it was legit...?

Now that thought made you feel silly. A little chuckle passed your lips before you clasped the coin between your hands and brought it to your chest, closing your eyes as if about to pray.

“Alright, I don’t know how this works so I’m just gonna state my wishes out loud. I hope that works for, well, whoever you are. First off, I want that backstabbing business ruined. They fucked me over after I bent over backward for them, now they deserve to feel the same. Please. Second, I don’t know how you could do it, but I’d really like my insurance company to finally approve my apartment claim so I can find another place soon. Third-”

You trailed off as emotions immediately welled up behind your eyelids, the burning already tingling in the back of your throat from holding them in.

“My third and most important wish, please, if nothing else, find the one that put my mom in the ICU and make them pay. Those idiots down at the police department couldn’t find them, or so they say anyway, so just… give them what they deserve, please.”

With a stifled sniffle, you wiped away the few tears that had escaped and fell back against the headboard, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling as you let the pain wash over you; Rage, dread, hope, apathy, desperation. Eventually, the unending barrage became too much to deal with. This wasn't a new thing in your life, but it had certainly culminated into something worse with everything going on in your life; clinical depression exacerbated by a series of unfortunate events.

With no other plans for the day and the weight of your heart heavy in your chest, you chose to simply roll over and bury yourself, and your troubles, in the fluffy comforter. You’d feel better after a nap. You were almost certain of it.

Even as you drifted off into sleep, the tears didn’t cease.

When you first woke, you weren’t sure what had roused you but you knew it wasn’t good; All you could feel was bone-trembling terror. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, felt frozen in place with only the ability to stare at the now dimly lit wall; watching the shafts of setting sunlight ever so slowly creep down by the minute.

“Come now, darling,” a low voice crooned in the void behind you, “I know you’re awake.”

Like a rubber band snapping, the grip on your body suddenly released and you shot up in bed, immediately turning around to find out who had spoken. You weren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t the devilishly handsome man that was seated next to the window. The sunlight pouring down on him made it very obvious that his skin was lacking any range of melanin, rather being pallor shades of whites, blacks, and greys, but that didn't detract from his appearance at all. In fact, he looked like something out of a Gothic romance novel or a Tim Burton movie. Once the enchantment of seeing him began to wear off, you finally noticed what sat on the table next to him.

A human head.

“Holy fuck!”

A hellish screech escaped your lips as you hastily scrambled backward, trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible, only to go careening off the edge of the mattress. The pain of impact on the floor couldn’t even deter you. As your back hit the wall, you kept your eyes pinned on the intruder, watching for any sign that he was going to follow you or attack.

“While I’m certainly not minding the show, don’t you think you’re rather underdressed for this occasion?” he spoke suddenly.

It took a few moments for his words to sink in but the moment they did, you launched yourself back at the bed with a hushed curse and promptly pulled the sheets up around your naked body.

“Who are you? How did you get in here? I-Is- Is that real?”

Long clawed fingers made their way into the matted, bloody mess of hair and pulled the body part free from the table with a sickening pop.

“It is undoubtedly real, but I figured you’d believe me much quicker if I had a visual aide to my claims,” he replied, dropping the offending thing before tossing you a sharp, seductive, smile, “The name is Dark. I’m a demon and the owner of the coin you wished upon.”

Your tongue felt too heavy to move while you watched in horror as he licked the blood from his fingers like a cat bathing itself.

“I- I don’t-”

“You don’t understand,” he supplied helpfully.

As he rose from his seat, you stared at him owlishly, unable to take your eyes off his graceful form as he nearly glided across the floor to stand in front of you.

“That coin,” he hummed, pointing at the metal disc in question, “It belongs to me. When someone makes a wish while holding it, I’m able to hear them. In your case, I heard all three.”

Trepidation tickled the nape of your neck when your eyes slowly rolled over to the head once more. It was as if you couldn’t breathe. Sick crawled up your throat and it took every ounce of your strength to keep from vomiting at the man’s feet. You don’t know how long you sat there, struggling to breathe and ease the nausea but, when it finally went away, rage took over.

“I didn’t want you to actually KILL them!” you shouted.

The demon casually arched a brow in your direction before saying, “You specifically wished for the one involved in your mother’s accident to get what they deserved.”

“Yeah! Like prison! Not death!”

A soul-trembling crack resounded through the small hotel room as he slowly craned his neck side to side, ethereal pulses of red and blue emanating from his being. Some of the previous ire slipped from your hold when he moved even closer, step by step until his knees were touching yours.

“I will never understand you humans and your sense of righteousness. Would it ease your mind to know this wasn’t the first time they had committed such heinous crimes?” he asked.

“W-What?” you questioned softly.

“I will not delve into details but rest assured that your embarrassing sense of compassion was lost on them; they were vermin,” he explained, “Now, that makes three wishes fulfilled. You have two remaining.”

You thought back on exactly what wishes you had made and were immediately overcome with dismay.

“Wait, what did you do?!” you demanded, jumping to your feet and glaring up at him, “You didn’t kill anyone else, did you?!”

A twinge of disdain passed through his features. His hand landed heavily on your shoulder and you were shoved back down onto the bed with a 'tsk' of disapproval, as if scolding a misbehaving child.

“Fortunately for you, no. Your previous place of employment has simply been condemned for multiple code violations that have mysteriously come to light during a surprise investigation, and your insurance company has been informed that they’re facing a lawsuit if they don’t reevaluate your claim with a more positive outlook.”

Relief flushed through your veins and you thanked him meekly. You wouldn’t have been able to live your life knowing you had caused the deaths of so many people, let alone friends.

“So, what now?” you asked.

“You have two more wishes before your soul belongs to me.”

He said it with such finality and ease that you almost didn’t react at first. Once his words settled in though, oh, panic quickly followed.

Gaping up at him in wide-eyed disbelief, you tried to stammer out some rebuttal or plea, but nothing would come out. Panic soon gave way to defeat as you realized there was no obvious way to get out of this ordeal. It had been clear as day on the coin.

Thinking on the offending piece of metal, you looked over and snagged it up, reading the inscription once more.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“So that’s what this meant,” you sighed quietly, before gazing at him once more, “And there’s no way to bargain out of this?”

He looked mildly pleased by your inquiry, letting out a little hum before falling back into an ornate chair that definitely hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“And what would you bargain?” he purred, “What could a simple little human such as yourself have to give to me, other than your soul of course.”

You cursed his infallible logic and stayed quiet as you tried to think over your options. Truly, you had nothing else to give him; no money nor gifts. Your soul was the only valuable thing you owned, and there was no undoing what had been done. A person had died because of your wish.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up to your full height and prepared yourself mentally.

“Is there a time limit? Do I have to make my wishes today or can I think about them?” you asked.

“You’re free to use them when and wherever you wish. However, do not think this a loophole. Choosing to postpone your wishes until death does not release you from this contract. Your soul will still belong to me when you die.”

Well fuck. There went that option. If you were doomed no matter what, you might as well make use of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity... right?

“I’m going to need time,” you whispered.

“Fair enough,” he replied, finally taking a step back, “You have my calling card. You can call for me if you have any questions, otherwise, you know what to do.”

He strolled back to the window and snagged the dismembered head, flashing you a wide smirk that framed his fangs perfectly.

“I’ll just be taking this with me. Hope to hear from you soon, darling.”

#Demon!Dark #Dark/reader #female reader #PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS PEOPLE #This chapter is a little dark #heh... dark #pun not intended #two part series #Chapter 1

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Bitch Fight, Ch.10 (Multi-Ship; Adorney) - Lita

Welcome to the world of Femme Fatale Wrestling. The future is female, and we're here to prove it.

A/N: Sorry it's been a hot second since I last updated - I don't have a valid reason, I just forgot lmao. Anyhow - group fluff at the gym, Adore is a dumbass, Bianca is a sucky adoptive parent, and Courtney remains a useless lesbian. Much love kids, enjoy <3<3

****

CHAPTER 10: YOU CAN'T WRESTLE

“Jesus Christ, Adore - get up!”

“I don’t wanna.”

Dela walks into the gym, heading straight towards the ring. Bianca and Adore are already there - Adore lying on the mat, groaning as Bianca pulls at her arm, trying to scrape her off the ground. Dela raises an eyebrow.

“Is she okay?”

“Delaaaa, she’s trying to kill me!” Adore whines, still not moving off the floor. “Help!”

Bianca rolls her eyes. “Don’t listen to her, she’s being a fucking baby,” Bianca says. “Someone decided to go out partying last night, and she’s still feeling a little delicate. Which, by the way, is not an excuse for half-assing training.” She looks daggers at Adore. “Or for throwing up in my car.”

“I got most of it out the window,” Adore murmurs.

“You did not.” Bianca deadpans. Dela has to stifle a laugh.

“Who was she with?”

“Trin and Pretty Dope - apparently they’ve accepted her into the pack now.”

“Yeah, I can’t say I’m surprised - Trinity can drink like a goddamn monster, it’s terrifying.” Dela shudders. Every single time she’d ended up in a bar with Trinity, she couldn’t remember a thing the next day. The younger woman had an affinity for tequila shots, and seemingly an immunity to hangovers too; trying to match pace with her was basically impossible. “What did you do to her?” Dela climbs into the ring, sitting on the apron and untying her gym shoes.

“Literally nothing,” Bianca scoffs. “That’s the first bump she’s taken all day, and now she won’t get up. We’ve been here for five minutes.”

“Adore sweetie, if you’re hurt badly enough that you can’t get off the floor, I will call an ambulance right now. Otherwise, move your ass,” Dela says with a laugh, lacing her boots up. Adore lets out a long groan, her face pressed against the ring canvas. Bianca nudges the redhead’s shoulder with her foot. This is probably the most clothed Dela has ever seen Adore, in a horrendously oversized Steve Austin shirt, kneepads strapped on over her sweatpants.

Arguably one of the best decisions they’d made after setting up the promotion was buying a dedicated training space. It was pretty bare-bones; an old storage garage in an industrial park, with a ring and some basic gym equipment - nothing in the direction of changing space or showers, which wasn’t ideal, but privacy away from the general public, and 24/7 access was something they’d struggle to get elsewhere. Anyway, they could shower at home, and given that they shared a locker room, there wasn’t much that they hadn’t seen of each other. Dela had been up in more than enough people’s business making sure tampon strings or panty lines weren’t visible through ring gear more times than she could count. Working with these girls as regularly as she did kind of necessitated that they didn’t really have boundaries.

Bianca tries to drag Adore back to her feet by her armpits - the younger woman totally sandbags her, her limbs floppy. Bianca huffs a frustrated sigh through her nose.

“You’re hard fucking work, you know that?” She grumbles; Adore leaning against the ropes, frowning.

“The light burns.”

She kind of has a point - another drawback was the aggressive fluorescent lighting. Dela had found herself bent over a trash can in this place more than once after partying a little too hard the night before a training session.

“I hate to say you brought this on yourself Bea, but it’s true.” Dela slides into the ring. Bianca folds her arms. Dela turns to Adore, putting an arm around her. “Listen sweetie, I know this is rough, but you gotta just grin and bear it - it’s all part of the learning curve. Take it from someone who hasn’t had a comfortable night of sleep since 2003.”

“I don’t give a shit - I wanna either barf or go to bed, but Bianca won’t let me.” Adore moans.

“I know - she’s evil, right?” Dela simpers. Bianca aims a jokey slap at Dela, who pushes her away. The brunette is obviously trying to stifle a smile. “Bianca, can’t you see that this poor sweet thing is obviously at death’s door? You making her do work when she has her second-ever match in two days is criminal.” Adore nods along, pouting.

“Don’t give in to her bullshit,” Bianca scolds.

“Look, maybe she’s more of a visual learner - what was it you were trying to work on?” Dela asks, fastening her elbow pads.

“That top-rope moonsault thing she can apparently do, since she’s hellbent on being bargain-bin Lita - if she hits it, it’s fine, but if there’s nobody home she shits her pants and lands on her feet, it looks stupid.”

“Right,” Dela nods, looking at Adore. “That’s kind of weird - you’re usually great with throwing yourself at the ground.”

Adore shrugs nonchalantly.

“It’s fine - Adore, get out of the way for a sec, I can try and demonstrate. I don’t think I can do the whole backflip thing, but selling top rope moves without landing on someone is basically all the same.”

Adore shuffles to the other side of the ring as Dela locks up with Bianca; Dela hits her with a basic underhook takedown, planting Bianca on her back, before climbing the ropes. She’s never been much of a high-flier - someone as bottom-heavy as her really has no business trying to take to the skies - but she’s pretty sure she can still manage a semi-passable splash. Just as her feet leave the ropes, Bianca rolls out of the way - Dela eats shit, as expected, landing flush on her stomach and bouncing off the canvas. She rolls over, grabbing at her midsection and doubling over - Bianca grabs her hand, pulling her to her feet.

“So basically all you need to do is trust the process and take the bump like you normally would,” Dela says breathlessly. That felt absolutely awful - she had to remind herself every so often why it was that most of her ring work took place firmly on the canvas, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she recovered from the aftershock. “I get the temptation to not bother landing it, especially if you know there won’t be someone there, but suspension of disbelief is-“

She stops - Adore’s concentration also immediately goes elsewhere as the doors to the gym swing open. It’s Courtney that walks in - fashionably late as per, the smoothie that Dela could only guess had made her late in the first place in her hand. Bianca turns to look at her, folding her arms.

“What fucking time do you call this?”

“Traffic was bad,” Courtney shrugs, taking a sip of her smoothie. She’s in a black sports bra and basketball shorts, boots slung nonchalantly over her shoulder by the laces.

“That excuse is starting to wear thin - leave earlier or drive faster,” Dela teases, leaning against the ropes.

“Sorry mum,” Courtney laughs. Dela is very aware of Adore standing beside her, staring slack-jawed at the Aussie. Bianca looks at her confusedly.

“You good?”

Adore leans in to whisper loudly into Bianca’s ear: “Who the fuck is that?”

Bianca rolls her eyes, muttering to Dela: “I swear to god, this bitch ate crayons for breakfast.”

“Stop bullying her, she’s only a baby.” Dela elbows her.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Adore still looks perplexed.

“Adore, I can’t believe you. I thought what we had was special,” Courtney laments, mock-pouting.

“Oh my god, you guys all suck. I can’t just- hold the fuck up, Courtney?” Adore’s eyes practically pop out of her head.

“Fucking bingo.” Bianca throws her hands up, laughing. Adore still seems to be struggling to put two and two together.

Dela was willing to admit that Courtney did look strikingly different when she was off duty. Whilst the blonde very much played sex appeal in the ring - all tits and glamour and long hair - it was more of a costume than arguably anyone else’s gimmick was. Realistically, for all intents and purposes, Court was a drag queen - her ability to go from being the spitting double of Trish Stratus in the ring, to a side character on The L Word outside of it, was genuinely impressive. When she wasn’t working shows, she embodied this sort of low-effort androgyny; no makeup ever, fairly nondescript clothes. She was basically flat-chested, the impressive cleavage she boasted in the ring required three push-up bras and occasional duct tape.

A development of the last couple of years, her natural hair was cut into a sort of shaggy, long pixie - it was cute, in a way that Dela was seethingly envious of. Court had tried her level best to teach her how to make extensions work on short hair a few months ago, but even with repeated instruction, she had no clue what she was doing, and they’d basically decided she was a lost cause. How much time was Dela planning on spending being pissed off about the hair fiasco today? Apparently a lot.

“Where the fuck did your boobs go?” Adore raises an eyebrow.

“Jesus, you’re doing wonders for my self-confidence today,” Courtney says, perching on the ring apron. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, there’s definitely something there.” She prods at her chest, looking down. “Wait, hold on - no, that’s a mosquito bite. Never mind, guess you were right.” The blonde shrugs. Bianca laughs quietly. “You guys okay?”

“I’m fine, Dela’s fine, Adore is dying apparently.” Bianca shrugs.

“I am.” Adore nods solemnly, leaning against the ropes. Bianca rolls her eyes.

“She has a hangover,” Dela clarifies. “Bianca made her get out of bed, so she’s public enemy number one today.”

“Ah, right. Well, if you didn’t-“ Courtney makes direct eye contact with Bianca, taking up an affected, mock-sanctimonious tone. Bianca rolls her eyes.

“Courtney, let me stop you there. I’m happy for you and shit, but I do not have the patience to listen to her, and your preachy straight-edge bullshit at the same time. It’s been a long fucking morning.” Bianca says.

“Your loss. This smoothie is really good by the way,” Courtney shrugs airily; offering the cup to Adore, who gags.

“Or tell us about how expensive blended spinach is better than coffee anyway, that’s also fine.” Bianca says, huffing a laugh through her nose.

“You’re really fucking horrible, you know that Bea?” Courtney says, laughing as she slides into the ring. “Right, I’m not here to fuck spiders - you guys can piss off now, the main eventers have shit to do.” She wraps her arms around Adore’s lifeless body, cuddling up to her like a cat. The redhead looks a little more lively, leaning her head against Courtney’, and nodding her agreement with her previous statement.

“Excuse me?” Bianca raises an eyebrow.

“You heard me. You two irrelevant losers get your arses out of my ring.” Bianca shares a moment of incredulous eye contact with Dela.

"Courtney, I have-"

"Yeah yeah, wrestling for longer than I've been alive, I've heard that whole speech before - where the fuck is your title?"

"Where's yours?" Bianca claps back, raising an eyebrow.

"Fuck off, you miserable old bitch."

"Don't talk to my talent like that," Dela says through a laugh.

"You can fuck off too." Adore nods along with Courtney's statement assertively, flipping Bianca and Dela off.

“Courtney, I could fire you.” Dela folds her arms, trying to stop herself from smiling and failing pretty miserably.

“Yeah, you won’t though, will you?” The blonde gives a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile; Dela rolls her eyes as she ducks out of the ring.

Adore has apparently changed her tune pretty drastically now that Courtney has shown up; once Courtney has laced up her boots, the two of them jump right into jostling around the ring, as if Adore hadn’t been inches from death less than twenty minutes ago. Bianca stands beside Dela as she watches the two of them rolling around the ring, leaning her elbows on the apron. The pair of them start off awkwardly tussling around, pushing and shoving - Adore’s trademark scrappy offense looks arguably worse than it usually does in the ring with Court, who at this point could work a classic in her sleep, but there’s something about it that’s endearing in its own way.

Dela flinches as Courtney floors Adore with a spear, the younger woman’s head bouncing awkwardly off the mat. Bianca sucks her teeth.

“What have I told you? Tuck your fucking head, you moron.”

“Fuck off, mom!” Adore calls back at her, looking a little dazed.

“Yeah, fuck off!” Courtney seconds her, pulling Adore back to her feet. Bianca curls her lip.

“Whatever, enjoy your brain damage.” Bianca pulls a can of Red Bull out of her bag, popping the tab and taking a long drink.

“Don’t you think you’re a little harsh on her?” Dela tilts her head, looking at her.

"Why, because I wouldn't let her pussy out of showing up because she has a hangover?"

"Obviously I was talking about you calling her a fucking moron."

“Tough love - it’s the way I was brought into this business, kid gloves never got anyone anywhere.” Bianca shrugs.

“Speak for yourself.”

“Well, not all of us had the luxury of being coached by our fucking wives.” Bianca raises an eyebrow. “You know, when I was like, nineteen I watched the guy who trained me break a kid’s leg on purpose just to prove the point that wrestling is ‘real’ - given that I’m not going by his playbook, Adore has it fucking easy.”

Dela grimaces, looking back to Adore and Courtney in the ring. Adore is on her back; Courtney straddling her waist, pinning both arms above her head with her hand, practically dry-riding her. She watches a little longer, waiting to see if they do anything. They don’t. Dela can’t help but wonder for a moment whether or not there’s anything going on between the two of them. It wouldn’t surprise her. It happened all the time; everyone was basically screwing everyone else at any given moment - Bianca had worked her way through most of the roster in the last eight years, there'd been more hook-ups and subsequent break-ups than she could count, and she'd walked into at least one backstage shower threesome in her time. She guessed it was something like the link between all-girls’ schools and lesbianism, starting up an all-women’s promotion had given way to a hell of a lot of locker room incest. Well, it realistically was common everywhere else; there was just less macho posturing bullshit taking place in Femme Fatale, so it was more out in the open.

She walks away from the ring. She didn’t turn up with the intention of working her in-ring skills, and there’s more she can be doing here than just standing around and spectating. As she sets up the squat rack, she hears Bianca in the process of saying something scathing, and calls her over - cutting her off mid-sentence. Whatever the deal was with Adore and Court, it was probably best to leave them to it.

“Bea, can you spot me?”

#rpdr fanfiction #s6 #bianca del rio #adore delano #courtney act #bendelacreme #lesbian au #glow au #wrestling au #adorney #bitch fight #femme fatale wrestling au #lita

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