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beomcoups · 4 months ago

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Food Wars pt. 1

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Mingyu are rival but friendly chefs competing for a spot to be an executive chef at a new location in Madrid. This position would change your life; no matter how attractive he is, you WILL get that spot.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chef!Mingyu x chef!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, suggestive (next part will be spicier, I promise), coworkers to lovers au, 18+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠��: cursing, kissing, mention of death (nothing graphic), suggestive grabs of the hips and ass 💀

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.2k

𝐀𝐍: Part 1 is heeeeeeere! This is apart of the world tour collab hosted by @svthub. Part 2 will be posted soon. There are alot of people here who helped me cultivate this fic and assure me that what I wrote didn't suck lol. Thank you @wooahaeproductions, @seokgyuu, @hobeemin and @hannieween for looking at bits of this for me. Also thank you to @highvern , @cheolism , @okiedokrie @bitchlessdino @gyupremacy for shooting ideas with me (ahem, cologne!) and finally @milfgyuu , I know you want to be tagged in anything related to your man :)

You knew it would come to this, and as good as you are at hiding your poker face, you are annoyed. A food competition, really? You almost burst out with laughter when Rich, the restaurant's owner of The Palm Cuisine, told you. The Palm Cuisine is one of the most popular restaurants in the U.S., with three locations in New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. He is opening a new restaurant in Madrid, Spain, and wants to take one of the sous chefs to make them the executive chef. You are the better chef, and everyone knows it, but in the spirit of “fairness,” you have to go against another person for the owner to make their decision. That other person is no other than Kim Mingyu, the golden boy of the restaurant who is almost as good as you in the kitchen. Almost.

It’s not like the position was directly promised to you, but deep down, you always assumed it would be yours. You have been there the longest, know the menu from top to bottom, and have even stayed extra nights you didn’t have to for the benefit of the restaurant and the team. You eat, breathe and shit this place. It feels like a slap to the face. “Put the knives down, girlie,” your coworker and good friend Shena nudges you.

You sigh, gently setting down the knives you used to cut your potatoes. “I’m fine,” you whisper, turning around and rolling your eyes. “I am totally fucking fine.” You close your eyes and take a small, deep breath, centering yourself before returning to reality. Disappointment would be an understatement if you had to describe how you feel. The Palm Cuisine is the first and only restaurant you have worked at as a chef, starting as a prep cook and working your way up to sous. You always imagined yourself making it to executive chef—overseeing the restaurant's menu, preparation, cooking, ordering, and operations. The place specializes in Spanish food, and you can confidently say you could plan a Spanish menu with your eyes closed. Tapas, gazpacho, paellas, you name it, you’ve done it. And yet, you must constantly prove to everyone (mainly the men) that you deserve to be here. It’s exhausting. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, wondering if you will snap and break a rolling pin or cry in the bathroom. Instead of giving them the satisfaction, you turn around with a beaming smile. “Well,” you quirk an eyebrow. “Let the food war begin!” “Oh, splendid!” Rich squeals. “I was worried you would be upset.” “Why would I be upset?” You cock your head. “I mean, it’s only fair, right?” He chuckles nervously, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Why don’t you and Mingyu come into my office, and we can discuss it further?” You nod as he beckons Mingyu over and follows him into his mid-size office. It smells of fresh linen, courtesy of a scented oil on his bookshelf. It looks like a typical place of work, complete with a desk, laptop, and hundreds of documents related to the restaurant. It’s cold in contrast to the warmth of the fires in the kitchen, and you long to be back in front of the heat, cooking from your heart.

You’ve been cooking since you were ten, watching your grandmother in the kitchen slave away for all the major holidays. You remember how it felt when you made your first apple pie - how you went to the local market and bought the freshest green apples you could find and cut them up like she did, adding the right amounts of nutmeg, brown sugar, and other needed ingredients. You made your own crust and watched everyone marvel at your dessert. You guess you could say that your grandmother stirred your love for cooking. God, you miss her.

You hear Mingyu shuffle behind you, the scent of chocolate and cream greeting you before he does. You nod, moving to the seat furthest away from the door to give yourself space. You don’t hate Mingyu; you two are friendly with each other and help each other out when needed. He’s always treated you with respect and never condescended you when you made a suggestion. Your eyes undoubtedly work, and you would be a liar if you didn’t admit he is handsome. His model-like looks, toned body, great hair, and he just happens to be a good cook? It’s almost not fair. But fortunately for you, you haven’t fallen for his charms. He’s the golden retriever that everyone wants to be around. Well, except for you.

“So,” Rich starts as he shuts the door. I want you to know that I respect both of you, and it was tough to make this decision; hence, we are doing this. Plus, it’ll be fun, bring up the morale of the restaurant while we’re in Madrid—” “Wait,” you hold your hand up. “Are we going to do this in Madrid?” “Well, yes,” he says casually. “It’s only fitting we do it there. It’ll give you a chance to feel the vibe of the area and get some fresh ingredients. Lord knows you can’t get it here in the city.”

Mingyu chuckles, and you instinctively dig your thumb into your palm, your mind already thinking of the cost of a ticket, hotel space, etc. Rich can be a dramatic pain in the ass sometimes.

“We will cover everything, of course; all you need to do is be ready for international travel. You can bring one person from the restaurant as your assistant. Oh, and here is some paperwork you will need to fill out.” Several minutes later, with all the paperwork signed and details worked out, you shuffle out of the office one by one. Rich leaves first, rushing out like a bat out of hell, his wooden smell following him and the tension in your chest. You’re plagued with thoughts about coming up with a menu, packing to leave, and who’s going to watch your cat Grey while you’re gone. You feel undervalued, still bothered that you even have to do this. Does your many years of being here not mean anything to Rich? Is your cooking not good enough? Why keep hinting that you could have something bigger here just to string you along? All of this frustrates you with a passion.

You need a fucking drink.

Your nose wiggles at the smell of rich chocolate, your mouth salivates, and your stomach rumbles shortly after. You have a terrible habit of not eating when hungry as you focus on making food and serving others. While your mind is on food, you aren’t paying attention to Mingyu in front of you, bumping into his back. Your face grows hot with embarrassment, refusing to meet the gaze of your competitor for your dream job. “Hey.” His deep voice knocks you out of your mental fog.

“W-what’s up?” You stumble through your words. “I just want to say it’s an honor going toe-to-toe with you for this spot. There wouldn’t be any other person I would want to go against. You’re a great chef.”

For that tiny moment, you felt seen and appreciated. Aside from Shena, no one seemed to care about the hard work you put into The Palm Cuisine, and you thought about quitting so many times. But despite being unappreciated, you love the food, the culture, and the customers that come in. You can’t imagine yourself anywhere else.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat. “You’re good too.” Mingyu nods, a strand of hair falling over his forehead. Seeing him up close, you have to admit, he’s attractive. You get why everyone trips over their feet when he’s around. You have much more discipline than that despite the vibrations through your body. “Also, you need to eat,” he says matter-of-factly. “I heard your stomach before you bumped into me.”

Whatever spell you were temporarily under ceased immediately, knocking you back into reality.

“Ladies first,” he says, moving out of the way to let you through. His hand lightly touches your back as you walk by, making that part of you hot as if it were touched by something warm. You return to your stations, cleaning them off to be ready for the customers who are set to come in later. “What was that about?” Shena pops up beside you, eyeing you suspiciously. “Just some stuff about this unnecessary competition and getting an assistant to help me and whatnot,” you shrug.

“Wow, that’s kind of grand,” she looks perplexed as if you are telling a joke.

You nod, grab a granola nearby, and take a bite, curbing your hunger a bit.

“So…” you let your voice trail off in suspense. “How about you come with me to Spain?”

Your morning sucked. You barely slept, and when you finally did, you woke up to three missed alarms and was running an hour late. You had less than a week to plan to leave the country and spent most of your night packing for ten days and making sure your cat, Grey, would be comfortable while you were gone. He is a rescue; you adopted him from the animal shelter when you volunteered with Shena a year ago. He was your cuddle buddy; you haven’t been without him for more than a day. “I’m going to miss you, buddy,” you give him a good scratch. He purrs lazily, curling himself into a ball and going back to sleep. You are grateful that Shena’s girlfriend, Lumina, offered to come over and feed him while you were gone. You were considering dropping him off at one of those pet daycares for the week or hiring a cat sitter, but she came through in the nick of time. She works at the animal shelter you adopted her, and coincidentally, that’s where she and Shena met and fell in love.

It was nice seeing them fall for each other. It was like watching a silly, quirky rom-com play out in front of you. You see the magic in Shena’s eyes when she looks at Lumina, the warmth in her voice when she talks about her. Shena described Lumina as a warm hug on a rainy day, and you could believe that. They are made for each other.

You hear a notification on your phone telling you your Uber is outside. You send a quick text to Lumina, giving her the code to your door, and give one last look around before you go across the ocean. “Bye, Grey,” you whisper, ensuring the door is locked before leaving.

Silvery-white clouds rolled into the early morning sky as you walked to your Uber, the ground wet from the fresh rain a few hours before. The smell of rain has always soothed you; the clean, earthy petrichor wakes you up a bit more. You quickly greet the driver, putting on your AirPods and playing a playlist you made. You watch the remaining droplets of rain left on the window roll away as your driver cruises down the highway. Where you come from, it hardly rains as it's primarily hot year round. On the rare occasions when it did, you would open your bedroom window, sit in your bed, and watch the water hit the Oleander flowers in your backyard. It was one of your two favorite smells in the world, the other being apple pie.

Mixed in with your annoyance about having to have a competition to prove yourself as a chef, you are looking forward to leaving the country. You have never been to Spain before, let alone Europe. You have traveled and seen a few things, but Mexico is the farthest you have gone. You spent much time last night looking up main attractions, museums, and local areas to see if you have the time. You want to visit the local markets and taste the local food. Rich set up all of your travel and living arrangements, and all you have to do is show up and cook. You are going to make the most of your time there. Who knows when you will be able to travel again? At the very least, you plan on coming out of this thing, winning it all.

“We’re here.”

When you look up, the airport entrance pulls up to your right. The ride feels shorter than it is, but you are lost in thought about many things. You thank your driver, grab your suitcases, and walk to the airline’s front desk to turn your bags in. You arrived with thirty minutes left to spare, and there was a long line already; it wasn’t even 8 am. You can’t help but yawn as you hand over your bags to the agents, fatigue and the lack of sleep kicking your ass.

“You’re all set,” the agent hands over your printed ticket. “Have a safe trip.” You nod, heading towards security and breezing through the checkpoints before arriving in front of the underground train. Your purse feels heavy on your shoulder, and your eyelids threaten to close as you stand. You usually have good sleep management, but you stressed over this trip all night. What if you come all the way out to Spain for nothing? You don’t think you could continue to work for Rich anymore. It would hurt too much.

The train comes shortly after, and you shuffle inside, trying to find a seat in the back before it is taken. You see one and settle down, your shoulders dropping as you finally sit down. You lean your head on the cold pole, hopeful that closing your eyes for a minute will give you some of your energy back.

“Are you as tired as I am?” You recognize that voice, annoyance slowly creeping in as your longing for a bit of solitude is interrupted.

“Mingyu, what a surprise,” you mutter without cracking an eye open.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your voice. It’s one of a kind,” you deadpan.

He chuckles as the train flicks forward, sitting next to you. You begrudgingly pull out your ticket, realizing you will not get to relax until you’re sitting on that plane. Noting the concourse you need to get off on, you look ahead, counting the stops you have until you have to get off. Mingyu hums softly, adjusting his backpack and pulling out his headphones.

“Have you ever flown first class before?”

Your head snaps his way, not registering what he’s saying. “What?” “First class? Have you ever been?” “I-uh, no,” you stumble through your words. “Why does it matter?”

“Uh, did you even look at where you’re sitting?”

“Well, yes?” you say incredulously, looking at your ticket again. “Of course, I know where I’m sitting—”

You don’t finish that sentence; instead, your mouth forms a small “o,” unaware that you would be sitting in first class. You have never flown in those seats before, the closest being business class a couple of rows behind the curtain. Those tickets were not cheap, and you only purchased them because you wanted to treat yourself to graduating culinary school, which you were able to do by saving all of your tips from your waitressing job.

You don’t like admitting that you were wrong, and you aren’t going to admit it now. Instead, you rake your fingers in your hair, nodding and shoving your ticket in your back pocket.

“You’re welcome,” Mingyu taunts you, nudging your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head.

You can barely suppress your smile, saved by the announcement that your concourse is approaching. You both rise out of your seats, moving towards the doors before the train jerks suddenly, making you fall forward into Mingyu. He grabs your hips, holding you steady until you’ve caught your balance. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, and your body is hypersensitive to his inadvertent touch. His grip is firm and protective, bringing an unexpected tingle to your core. You couldn’t feel more thankful that you were looking down; you couldn’t look him in the eye out of embarrassment. You don’t even have a crush on this guy, yet you feel hot and bothered.

“Be careful, princess,” he crouches low enough for your ears only. “We don’t need you flailing around this train.”

“Don’t do that,” you scoff. “Don’t call me princess.”

“Why?”

The train doors open, and you calmly remove his hands from you, gazing deep into his eyes.

“Because I’m far from that.”

You walk away before he has a chance to respond, looking for the gate you need to be at. Bitchiness aside, you stand on what you said. You aren’t some helpless person waiting in a tower for someone to come save you or give you a handout. You’ve worked hard for everyone to see you more than a woman, as it already has a stigma. The constant belittling of your intelligence, being told to “wait your turn,” you are done with it. You’ve taken control of your destiny your life, and you will not be treated like some delicate little girl waiting to be saved from a castle… no matter how hot the knight is.

You feel relieved when you find your gate and a familiar face sitting with her iPad in her hand. As if she felt you coming, Shena looks up and waves you over to where she is sitting. Dressed in mint green sweats and matching crocs, she stands out in front of the dull black seats.

“There you are,” she greets you with a hug. “It’s not like you to be late. I sent you a text wondering where you were.”

“You did?”

You pull out your phone, and sure enough, you have received one unread message from her. She must have sent it when you were on the train, distracted by Mingyu and his hands on your body. It’s not like you to get riled up, and it ticks you off that it happened with him, of all people. Your life is a joke.

You plop down next to her, cocking your head back in exhaustion. Before fully relaxing, you feel the seat beside you shift, followed by the smell of light cologne and chocolate. Looking over, you see Mingyu adjusting his bag before setting it on the ground. He is holding a small chocolate bar and taking a small bite, savoring the decadent treat as he licks his lips. You look away before being caught, chagrined that you were staring at him for that long. What is with you?

“Oh hey there, Gyu,” Shena waves at him. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Oh, I just got here,” he smiles. “I had to find my way to the gate since this one here is a speed walker.”

“Oh? You guys arrived together?”

“Not together, together,” you emphasize. “We just happened to be on the same train, that’s all.”

You purposely avoid Shena’s eye contact, clearing your throat and changing the subject.

“Did you notice we are flying first class?”

“Yeah!” Shena beams, pulling out her ticket. “I’ve never been out of the country, let alone first class. Lumina was bummed she couldn’t tag along. The shelter has her tied up, and it is kinda last minute.”

“Aww,” you rub her knee. “There will always be a next time, right?”

Shena nods, and the flight attendants announce they are about to start boarding, starting with first class. You pop out of your seat first, grab your things, and stand in line. Anticipation drills in your heart, wanting nothing more than to sit in some very comfortable seats and sleep throughout this 8-plus hour flight. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mingyu behind you, his eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. He leans in closer, the hairs standing on the back of your neck as his lips barely touch your ear.

“I know you’re not a princess,” he whispers. “You’ve proven to be more than that. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need someone to care for you sometimes.”

You were next in line and couldn’t respond without the flight attendants giving you weird looks. Instead, as they check your ticket, you do what you know best: bite your tongue, smile, and push it aside.

Madrid is exquisite; it is everything you saw on your Pinterest board and more. You’ve been here a few days and are in love. You are surrounded by gorgeous cerulean waters, good weather, and historic sites you always wanted to see as a child. The Almudena Cathedral, one of the most prominent catholic churches in the world, took your breath away when you went to visit. The Francisco de Cubas architecture throughout made you appreciate art more, one of the most beauteous works you have ever seen in person.

You also took time to visit the local market, talking with the locals about their lives and picking up fresh food to try out different dishes for the competition. Shena was a big help, taking over in Spanish if you needed help and also giving fresh ideas on what to cook. You knew a bit of Spanish to get around the city and ask questions, but coming from a Spanish-speaking household, Shena could convey your ideas in ways you couldn’t understand. You will be forever grateful for that.

“It looks like we’re here.” Rich called you both to the restaurant this evening to show you around and tell you where your cooking stations would be. The restaurant stood atop a hill, with small walk-up steps made of stone mosaics. Surrounded by boutique shops and a couple of markets, this was the only restaurant on the block; you couldn’t miss it. You understood quickly why Rich took this location. He meets you at the entrance, greeting each other in dos besos.

“Welcome, let me show you around. Mingyu is already here.” You walk into the small waiting area before entering a gorgeous main dining area with walls made of Spanish moss brick. The bar is neatly placed in the middle, already loaded with the finest wines and other liquors. The dining tables and chairs are made of mahogany, giving you a vibe that you are back home in the country.

“Ah, there he is,” Rich looks to your right.

Mingyu walks up, wearing a white beater accentuating his well-toned arms and acid-blue jeans that hit him perfectly. You couldn’t stop ogling him if you wanted to; you would’ve thought he was a model off the street if you didn't know him. His eyes scan Rich and Shena before landing on you, a slight smirk on his lips that only you seem to notice. Ever since your encounter at the airport, he’s been on your mind, and you hate it. You still feel his hands on your hips on the train, as if he imprinted on you.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I had to find the bathroom.” “No worries,” Rich waves him off. “Let me show you around.”

He takes you to where your cooking stations would be, explaining how everything was set up and where to find your ingredients so you could prepare them. The competition is in three days, giving you enough time to finish your menu and prep before the big day. The kitchen is magnificent, a sight straight out of your daydreams: stainless steel appliances, expensive cast irons, and utensils you’ve always wanted that were way out of your budget. You may hate the idea of this competition, but working at this location would be a dream come true.

“Imagine if we got to work here,” Shena whispers. “I’ve only seen kitchens like these on Master Chef.” You nod in agreement, your fingers barely grasping the counter's surface. Rich finishes showing you around and asks everyone what their plans are leading up to the big day. “Nothing, just prepping and looking around the city a bit more,” you shrug. “Well, that sounds boring! ” He exclaims. “Madrid has such a fun nightlife. It would be a shame for you to miss out. As a matter of fact, why don’t you kids go to Kapital tomorrow? I can get you a table, and you can let loose.”

“Well, shit, okay!” Shena pipes up before you can respond.

You groan internally, not in the mood to be body-to-body against strangers, sweating your hair out during loud music. You don’t see yourself having fun until this whole thing is over. How does this guy expect you to relax? It’s not like his dreams are on the line. You look over at Mingyu, who matches your gaze, leaning against one of the refrigerators.

“Yeah,” his eyes finally tear away from you. “I’m down.”

You’re the only one left who hasn’t given an answer, and everyone is looking at you expecting one.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you mask your disdain with a smile.

“Great!” He claps his hands in excitement. “I will send you the details later and get you set up. Have fun.”

Rich walks you out, and you ask for the bathroom. You need a moment to pee and think in peace. He points you toward one, and you walk into the grand bathroom decorated with an old European interior that was undoubtedly above your salary. You walk to the furthest stall away from the door, rubbing your temples as you do what you need to do. For the most part, you handle stress well. You compartmentalize your feelings about what needs to be done, and you’ve been fine. Even now, with this competition vastly approaching and Mingyu somehow encompassing your thoughts when you’re around him, you’re fine. You haven’t cracked.

You aren’t sure why this is affecting you so much. You still think about when he touched you on the train and how your body felt alive. You haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Is your body so desperate for intimacy that you melt at the first person who gives you attention? No, that can’t be it. You’ve been fine all this time. Why is Mingyu getting under your skin? Shaking those thoughts away, you wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. Swinging the door wide open, you are met by the man who has been plaguing your thoughts since you’ve been here. He was waiting for you, his back leaned against the wall, fiddling with a toothpick in his mouth.

“Rich and Shena are waiting for you… you can get kind of lost here,” Mingyu says.

“Mmhmm,” you nod slowly. “Well, let’s go.” The walk back to the front feels longer than it is. He hums a soft tune as he strides beside you, like he’s your equal, your partner. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but you feel comfortable.

“So, what have you been doing since you’ve landed?” Mingyu asks.

“I did some sightseeing,” you respond. “I visited the Almudena Cathedral and the local markets with Shena and got some ingredients for the competition. Oh, and worked on the menu.” “That’s it?” Mingyu looks surprised. “There is so much more of Madrid you have to see.” “Well, it’s not like I have a lot of time to go out there and explore,” you defend yourself. “Plus, I can’t really relax with this thing coming up.” You point at the kitchen. “How do you do it?” “How about I show you?”

You stop dead in your tracks a few feet away from the door.

“What do you mean show me?” You eye him suspiciously. “I’m going to pick you and Shena up tomorrow, and we will explore together. There’s so much the world has to offer besides cooking and work.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“You’ll see.”

You both walk outside, and Shena sits at one of the tables, talking candidly on the phone. Rich is nowhere to be found. The moon peeks over the horizon, the white orb’s light shining over the waters. Normally, you wouldn't agree to such a thing, but he has a point. Maybe you should live a little. “You are something. You know that?

Mingyu shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I just believe in living life to the fullest. We don’t know how long we may have.”

You eye him more, studying his face in hopes that you can find a false truth and be more at ease. When you don’t, it does the opposite of relaxing you; it makes you nervous. You might be starting to like this guy.

Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll send you the address.”

“He’s here!” You check yourself out in the mirror, smoothing the middle of your blue floral white dress. You opted to wear your hair in a low bun, matching earrings, and a necklace you’ve had for years. Sliding on your white sandals, you grab your purse and leave your room. “Phew!” Shena whistles at you. “Qué guapa estás!”

You roll your eyes playfully as she pops out of her seat, sporting a white top and blue jeans, accessorized with a light cardigan and a simple gold necklace. You usually wouldn’t dress up this nice for an outing with friends (and Mingyu), but you wanted to be prepared for anything, and it would kill you if you were underdressed. Plus, you were going to be in Europe! Why wouldn’t you want to be prepared?

You walk out of your Airbnb and meet Mingyu as he comes in. He is dressed casually in a white collared shirt and black shorts, the slight breeze lifting his shirt and exposing his abs. It took a lot of brainpower to look away, instead diverting your attention to the inside of your purse. He looks tanned and relaxed, as if he is one with Madrid. If only you could relax like that.

“Hey, Gyu,” Shena waves. “Thank you for leading the way on this grand adventure.”

“No problem,” Mingyu smiled. “I want this to be a fun day, and I figured we have a driver, so why not?”

He looks at you, and your heart patters. The sun and slight breeze do not help your plight as you fight internally against acknowledging how sexy he looks. You hate your body for the way it’s betraying you right now, feeling inadvertently turned on.

“You look pretty,” he marveled at you.

“Thanks,” you nod sheepishly, walking to the black car behind him. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

There is a tiny bit of you that wants you to look good for him, to be seen that you put in the effort. When you get in the car, you greet the driver, sitting in the back row, hoping he will get the hint that you want to be left to yourself and your thoughts. But that didn’t work that way, as he climbs in and sits right next to you, with Shena seated in the row in front. His cologne is light, different from the usual sweet, chocolatey smell you’re accustomed to when he’s around. It’s enchanting, exciting, and further puts you in a mood. “So where are we going?” Shena probed, snapping on her seatbelt. “The Royal Palace,” Mingyu announced. “They have a tour, and I figured we could get lunch afterward.”

The driver pulls off, and you gaze outside the window, admiring the beautiful architecture of Madrid. Visiting the Royal Palace was on your bucket list, but you didn’t think you would have time. You’ve seen the pictures on Pinterest and talked to some locals at the restaurant who have been, but you’ve always been told that tickets are hard to get. You never thought it would be attainable for you.

“What are you thinking about?” Mingyu’s deep voice infiltrates your thoughts.

“Nothing, really,” you say, smoothing out your dress. “I am just enjoying the foreign atmosphere.”

“Foreign atmosphere?” Mingyu chuckles. “That’s an interesting way of saying you enjoy the view.”

“Well, are we not in a foreign place?” You retort.

“Well, yes.”

“Alright then.” You look back out the window, biting your lip to hold back a grin. You are thankful for the soft tunes from the car radio, letting the reggaeton beats drown out your very loud thoughts. Mingyu gets you riled up in a way that no one can. He doesn’t frustrate you in ways like the other men do at the restaurant. Deep down, it’s not in an ill manner; he is just like the golden retriever: nudging your leg with a bone in his mouth, begging you to play with him.

“I brought you something,” he nudges your shoulder. “I know you didn’t eat.” You look down and see that he is holding a granola bar coated with vanilla and almonds, poking out of a sandwich bag. The sweet smell is heaven to your nose, and your mouth slightly salivates. He tapes Shena on the shoulder, handing her one of her own.

“You made this?” Shena probes, carefully taking it from him. “This is really sweet.”

You take a small bite of it, and your taste buds do a happy dance. The vanilla was freshly made, and you taste the granola, almond, and sweet spices used to make this perfect bar. You aren’t big on breakfast, as you’re used to getting up and moving on the go, but occasionally, you will grab a granola bar and eat it on your breaks at work, this one explicitly being your favorite. Maybe Mingyu knows you better than you thought.

“You’re right,” you confessed. “I hadn’t eaten anything. Thank you.” The car pulls to a stop, arriving at the grandiose building known as The Royal Palace. You wait until everyone leaves the vehicle, barely climbing out without tripping over your feet. Standing outside of the gates, you are in awe. You aren’t sure if it’s dopamine, but the air suddenly feels different and almost cleaner. You scrambled into your purse, pulling out your portable camera to photograph the palace. This place may not be one of the world's seven wonders, but in your heart, it is. “Oooo, let’s take pictures while we are here,” Shena squeals.

She pulls you and Mingyu close to her, takes over the camera, and snaps a few photos together and separately. Usually, you would be annoyed if it was someone else, but she is your best friend. You can let her get away with a few things. Mingyu goes to the booth to confirm they have arrived, returning with three tickets to take inside. “We can go in through a separate entrance since I got the tickets ahead of time,” he announces. You flip through the pictures through the camera, excited to take more. You feel his eyes bore into you, and you suddenly feel hot.

“What are you looking at?” You say, putting your camera away.

“Your smile,” he confesses with a cheeky grin. “I want to see it more often.”

You gaze at each other for a moment, your mouth parted with much to say and nothing at the same time. Mingyu keeps leaving you speechless, and you aren’t mad about it anymore.

“Are you two gonna keep staring at each other lovingly, or are we gonna do this thing?” Shena’s words snap you out of your reverie, and Mingyu chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. You walk over to her, linking your arm with yours.

“There is nothing loving going on.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “Let’s go look at some royalty.”

When you planned for this trip, you set a time to visit the Almudena Cathedral, visit the local markets, and plan your menu. You weren’t going to hold Shena to that standard even though she is your assistant. You thought you would be fine if you focused on nothing but food and didn’t get distracted. Mingyu, however, might be proving you wrong.

You sit at his Airbnb, watching him make lunch for you and Shena. He insisted on making something instead of eating out somewhere, and who are you to turn down a free meal? The Royal Palace was everything you imagined, learning about the history of Spain beyond what was in your textbooks in high school. You consider yourself a history buff, wanting to learn more about the world across the different seas. You’ve had that desire when you were a little girl, sitting on your grandmother’s lap and listening to her stories from when she traveled as a young adult. She never got to visit Spain, but she talked about it a lot, being that they were world conquerors (or, as you like to say, colonizers) back in the day. You really miss her.

Mingyu sets your plate in front of you, a fried calamari sandwich with a side of garlicky mayo and fries he made himself. He tops it off with a small squeeze of lemon juice, just as you like it. When you make this at the restaurant, you always add lemon juice on top to give it more depth, but instead of the mayo, you have paprika-spiced tomato sauce on the side. Either way, this shows that Mingyu has been paying attention when you felt incognito.

“Dig in,” he announces, sitting next to you at the island bar.

It’s a comfortable silence between you three, munching away at your well-seasoned meal. If you had to be honest with yourself, it’s the best sandwich you have ever had. He fried the calamari in olive oil, turning it every minute or so because it doesn’t take that long to cook. He apparently had the calamari sitting in milk in the refrigerator since this morning, allowing it to tenderize before mixing it with his own seasoning flour. You and Shena offered to help, but he turned you down, stating you were his guests and he wanted to treat you to something good before you went out later that night.

“This was really good,” Shena praises him as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You have to come over again and make these for Lumina and me.”

“Anything for you two,” he teases. “As long as you keep making those margaritas.” They howl in laughter, and you feel a bit awkward as if they have an inside joke that you aren’t a part of. You smile politely, finishing off the last bit of your food before getting off your stool and grabbing your plate to wash.

“Aht aht,” Shena blurts, scrambling out of her seat. “I will be handling the cleanup. You two sit out there and act like you like each other.”

Your eyes throw darts at her for that last sentence, and she blows you a kiss as you walk to the balcony for some fresh air. The warm sun is welcome on your skin, the warmth taking away the chill you have in your bones from inside. You stare out into the sea, watching the boats go back and forth from the ports, the busy life from the markets a site to behold. You feel completely at peace for the first time since you’ve been here.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Mingyu pokes his head out from the balcony door, holding a pink lemonade decorated with an umbrella.

“Sure, if you are bringing that,” you quip, pointing at the drink.

“Of course, princess,” he jests back.

As you take the drink, you raise an eyebrow, debating whether you should be annoyed at that nickname or amused that he’s teasing you. He stands comfortably next to you, admiring the cerulean blue waters in front of you.

“This place is beautiful, isn’t it?” He sighs heavily. “I don’t want to leave.”

You look at him, his happy-go-lucky nature replaced by a look of sadness and longing. It’s unnerving, as you have always seen him with a warm orange aura around him. His hands grip the gate as he takes a softer, deeper breath, turning to face you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod slowly, your anxiety ticking up about what he wants to ask.

“What got you into cooking?”

You look away, staring back into the calm sea. No one has bothered to ask you anything personally about yourself besides Shena and Lumina, and you are unsure how to respond. It would mean opening a part of you to someone new, and you haven’t done that in a long time. It means that you would have to relieve your past and start trusting him, and you are scared of that.

Stepping across the magical line of faith and hope, you take a sip of your lemonade. “My grandma used to cook a lot growing up, and I would sit in the kitchen and watch her. Whatever you wanted, she could make it. My parents weren’t around, and she was the one who raised me. I eventually started cooking with her, which spurned my love for cooking, but mainly because I was doing it with her.” You pause, your breath shaky as you relive one of the hardest moments of your life. “On Christmas, I found her unconscious beside her chair. Apparently, she had a stroke and didn’t have oxygen for fifteen minutes before I saw her. I did everything I could to save her by hooking her with her oxygen machine before the paramedics arrived, but it was too late. She was declared brain dead.”

Hot tears fall down your cheeks, and you wipe them away quickly, embarrassed that you let yourself reach this point in front of Mingyu. He pulls you into his arms, allowing you to cry a little in his arms. Unbeknownst to you, Shena walks out and notices your tears, but Mingyu shushes her quietly, allowing you to grieve just a little bit longer. You regain your composure, giving yourself some space and adjusting his shirt. “I ruined your shirt,” you pout. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled softly. “You need something to lean on, and I’m glad I got to be that for you.”

Gazing into his eyes, you see the familiar warm orange swirling in his little orbs. Inadvertently, you move closer to him, your heart and body overruling your mind for once. Mingyu responds kindly, pulling you closer to him with his hands dangerously on your hips.

“Is it okay if I—”

“Mingyu, do it before I change my mind.”

His lips press against yours, and your legs almost buckle. It is soft and tentative, as if he is playing it safe in case you want out. But you don’t; instead, you kiss him deeper. It is as if something takes over you, and you can’t stop. Call it desire, passion, or any other synonym, but it’s what you feel. You want him, and so does he. His hands travel lower, giving your butt a soft squeeze, and you accidentally moan in his mouth. You think he likes it, though, because his bulge is hardening against your center.

“If we don’t stop, there is no coming back from this,” he breathes.

Your mind regains consciousness at those words; you know he is right. With one last kiss, you begrudgingly pull away, walking back inside and squarely bumping into Shena.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” She joked while taking a good look at you.

“Nothing, let’s just go,” you insist. “We still have to get ready for tonight and all.”

Shena looks at you and the balcony suspiciously but doesn’t say anything; honestly, you appreciate that. You don’t know how you can answer any questions she may throw at you. All you know right now is Mingyu drives you fucking crazy.

Part 2 will be coming soon. Likes, reblogs, and feedback are much appreciated :)

tag: @nonuify

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt angst #svt suggestive #mingyu fanfic #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst

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everyonewooeverywhere · 2 months ago

Text

PRETTY KITTY

NSFW | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

summary: ummm yunho makes cat hybrid!reader squirt while mingi is tied up??? w/ aftercare

pairing: yunho x cat hybrid!f!reader x mingi

genre: smut | non-idol au | hybrid au

rating: 18+

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: female reader, fingering, squirting, restraint (mingi), dirty talk, pet names (kitty, sweetheart) (lmk if i forgot something)

notes: idk how much i like this one, but i figured someone might enjoy it, so here you go 💀

“Do you like having him watch, kitty?” Yunho whispered into your ear, letting his teeth softly graze your skin, and delighting in the way you shivered at the touch. You responded with nothing but a soft whimper.

Because obviously you loved it. You loved sitting on your bed between Yunho’s legs with his chest pressed up against your bare back and his fingers massaging your breasts and pinching your nipples. And you loved how your boyfriend sat watching the two of you. Expertly tied to a chair with your panties stuffed in his mouth.

Yunho smirked at the way your tail wrapped around his leg, as if you were trying to hold him closer. He dropped his hand to your dripping heat and hummed in delight at how it was already crying for him. “Wow, Min, I didn’t know you had such a dirty kitty on your hands.” He pressed two fingers to your hole, not yet giving you the pleasure of filling you. “She just loves being touched here,” slowly inserting his fingers into your heat. “It doesn’t even have to be your fingers, does it?”

Your boyfriend grunted in his chair, tugging against his restraints. Yunho just chuckled and kissed your cheek, “I think he likes that you’re a little whore, kitty. He likes that you’ll just let anyone touch you.” You felt his fingers push further inside you. Your warm walls wrapping around his fingers so perfectly. “Do you know what I think he’d really like?”

You don’t respond, just mewling at his dirty words in your ears.

His free hand grabs your neck from behind and pulls you further back into him, “Words, kitty. Use your words.”

“No, I don’t kn–” you gasped as his fingers hit that gummy spot inside you, “I don’t know.” You shook your head, hoping Yunho would answer his own question for you.

“Hmm, that’s okay, sweetheart,” he reached up to pet one of your fluffy ears, “Kitties are a little dumb sometimes, aren’t they?” You were on the verge of protesting until he started pumping his fingers, keeping a steady pace. “I’m gonna make you squirt, kitty. And you're gonna spray all over this bed and all Mingi can do is watch.”

Mingi’s eyes rolled back into head, and you swore you heard a whimper rise out of his throat. His head fell forward, and he met your eyes. The gaze so intense it burned into your skin. His eyes scoured every inch of your body, watching as Yunho’s fingers disappeared into your pussy over and over again, watching how your freshly groomed ears twitched at every moment of pleasure, and watching as your eyes fluttered when you couldn’t think straight.

Yunho’s fingers sped up, hitting your g-spot with increasing pace. He brought his other hand to your clit, playing with it so ruthlessly. You were going numb with pleasure, the heat of Yunho’s breath on your neck and the intensity of Mingi’s gaze made you crazy. You could hardly breathe with the way you were being toyed with. So drunk on your own pleasure.

Your claws dug into Yunho’s thighs, and he responded by fucking you faster with his fingers, “Tell me when you’re gonna cum,” he murmured in your ear, “Make sure he knows to watch when you spray your yummy juices all over this bed.” You nodded dumbly, “God I should keep you here with me all the time. Tie you up and make you cum until you pass out,” he licked a stripe up your neck, never ceasing the movement of his fingers, “Too bad your little boy toy over here got to you first. Has he ever made you squirt, kitty?”

Mingi grunted and finally dropped your panties from his mouth, “Fuck off.”

Yunho didn’t respond to your boyfriend’s little outburst. Instead he pressed his lips to your cheek, “I’ll make you cum so good, don’t worry sweetheart.”

Your ears started to twitch and your toes curled into the soft sheets, something both men noticed.”Oh, kitty, I know you're close. You’re so close aren’t you?”

“Yu…” was all you could get out before he felt you tighten around his fingers. Your body went hot as you felt your orgasm build inside of you. You could only turn into Yunho’s neck and sob as you came. Both men basked in your little whimpers of, “Cumming…”

And just like Yunho promised you would, you squirt all over the sheets. He kept his fingers circling your clit the whole time, watching as your body shook and your pussy soaked the bed. Mingi moaned loud at the sight of his friend making you cum so hard you could hardly breathe.

He rubbed you through your high. Letting you come down from heaven after a moment of pure bliss. He laid you down on the bed, leaving you whining without a body to hold you. Your tail stretching out, hoping to find someone.

Lucky for you Mingi slipped his arms under you the moment Yunho untied his restraints and carried you to the bathroom. Setting you on the sink. You watched as he grabbed a towel and wet it in the bathtub with warm water.

Gently, he wiped between your legs and over your stomach, “Minni,” you rasped. Your tail curling around his forearm.

“Yes, my love?” he looked you in the eyes but kept wiping you down.

“You’re still hard,” you said, motioning down to where his boxers were clearly strained.

He chuckled, “Yes, kitty, I’m still hard, but we’ll deal with that later, okay?” He kissed your forehead and pet your ears, “Yunho’s getting new sheets so we can go back to bed and snuggle.”

“Ok,” you let him throw the towel in the laundry basket before lifting you off the sink and setting you on the floor.

“Can you walk ok?”

You simply nodded before walking back in the room and snuggling into your fresh sheets. When Yunho walked back into the room, you reached your arms for him. He smiled softly at you and laid down with you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Mingi was close behind and curled around your backside, leaving you comfortably squished between the two.

Letting them both kiss your skin and hold you close until you fell asleep purring in their arms.

#yunho smut #mingi smut #illusionnet #cromernet #mingi x reader #yunho x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader smut #mingi x reader smut #yunho x reader smut #ateez x reader #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dj's work #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ yunho #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ mingi #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ smut

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littlemcalrenmount · 6 months ago

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KINGS DAY

Lando Norris X Reader Insta AU

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Amsterdam, Netherlands

Liked by Landonorris, Martingarix, ciscanorris1 and 45,678 others

@yourinstagram : Hey siri how do you say goodmorning in Dutch 🇳🇱

125,78 comments

@landosfloffyhead can Lando fight because…Dutch men are vultures 😭

@ynsno1stan oh she’s too gorgeous I can’t take it !!!

@ciscanorris1 after kings day consider yourself officially a Norris by BLOOD 🤭

@landonorris is your name amster ?? Because DAMN ❤️

— @yourinstagram thank god you’re handsome 😭 because baby that’s not…

— @landonorris can’t wait 2 see you <3

@martingarix i hope you have your uniform !!!

— @martingarix Orange isn’t my colour therefore I will NOT be attending the celebrations sarryyy ��

—————————————————————————————

Liked by skysports, Romeo beckham and 379,876 others

@f1driversgossip : How it started 🆚 How it’s going….mclarens golden boy @landonorris seems to be letting loose this weekend as he parties all night celebrating kings day with famous Dutch DJ & Best friend @martingarix !! We’re unsure on how serious Norris’s injury is yet we’re also wondering where the drivers girlfriend @yourinstagram is seeing as she’s also in the country according to her recent post…🇳🇱 stay updated for more.

567,85 comments

@landoscurls BYEEEEEE Lando is a PR nightmare 💀

@ynsarmy does y/n even KNOW that her child is drinking

@lando04nation mr “I don’t drink” 🤨 beat his ass y/n !!!

@ln4loyalistt I’m sorry ? Is THEE Lando Norris… DRUNK 😭 this was not on my 2024 bingo card I fear

@yourinstagram so this explains why he hasn’t responded to me in hours 🧍🏽‍♀️

— @ln4whoree uh ohhhh 💀

@landosgoatee HELP NOT Y/N FINDING OUT THE SAME THROUGH INSTA LIKE US 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

@mclarensfirstwin I hope lando’s a fast runner because when y/n catches his 5’3 ass LMAOOOO

—————————————————————————————

Lando’s Instagram story

Yourinstagram story

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@landonorris : Paddle + Pizza + My Pretty Lady 🍕❤️🇳🇱Amsterdam you’ve been a blast …as for @martingarix you will pay for your crimes.

Liked by McLaren, oscarpiastri, Carlossainz and 78,890 others

@yourinstagram I love you stoopid head ❤️

@ln4 parents & paddle 🥹 love to seee it

@landosflooff *sighs* I just love them so much

@lando04loyalist she’s amazing and he’s there 🧍🏽‍♀️

@ynsupdates lowkey wish she grounded him 🫡

— @yourinstagram him and Martin are on time out from seeing eachother don’t worry !! Mum said NO 🫡

@martingarix same time next year ??

@adam_norris_pure_electric I think he got a smacked bottom folks lol !! Hope the nose is okay muppet son🥸

— @yourinstagram I made him sit on the naughty step too for not answering his phone.

@quadrantnation booo 🍅🍅🍅 put him in the dog house mother !!

@landonorris CAN EVERYONE STOP ENCOURAGING MORE PUNISHMENT !! I HAVE SUFFERED ENOUGH 🙃

@riabishh I say take away all his devices for underage drinking 👀 no 14 year old son of ours goes partying in the dam and gets away with it.

@maxfewtrell 🤣🤣🤣send him to the dog house !!! And throw away the key

@landnorris ENOUGH I SAID 🤺🤺🤺🤺

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lorelune · 2 months ago

Text

of carnage

|| blade x reader || E/18+ || shared toxicity, band au || wc: 8.8k || ao3 ||

You and Blade are mutually assured destruction. You know this, and yet it does not stop you from chasing after him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c this fic is part of a trade i did for some LOVELY selfship art with MOST BELOVED @rabbbitseason!! they asked for toxic bladie and reader and i come to DELIVER �� setting and au are heavily inspired by my time in my local music scene and all of the 💀that came with it. i'm glad it can be all get repurposed into blade smut 🫶 THANK YOU!! to bitti for giving me so many fun wants to craft around!! THANK YOU!!! as well to @ofmermaidstories and @2kmps for beta reading!! now, please mind the tags on this one and enjoy <3

CW: dark content, band au, dubcon, pain during sex, bleeding during sex, toxic relationship between blade and reader, angst, hurt/a little comfort, manipulation, gaslighting by blade and the reader @ themselves, face slapping, spanking, spitting, reader smokes cigarettes, reader drinks, self destructive reader, past blade/dan heng, implied unrequited jing yuan/dan heng, kernels of jing yuan/reader

“Are you going to the gig tonight? Fu Xuan asks as if the answer isn’t obvious already.

You crane your neck back to look at her from your roost in front of your full-length mirror. Your knees dig into the carpet and the tips of your fingers are tinged with black. You’ve spent the better part of the last thirty minutes attempting to perfectly smudge the smoky line of eyeliner on your lower lash line. A tube of dark, red lipstick (his color) and sticky gloss rests on the fluffy carpet beside your folded knees.

“Of course.” You can’t make yourself smile, not when your stomach is in knots. “Are you?”

“I should if you are going,” she huffs, leaning against your doorframe. “You need a chaperone.”

(She’s probably right.)

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You grimace and turn away, unable to meet her gaze. She’s too good at reading you. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“... He’s playing, isn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah.” You rub more aggressively at the widening smears around your eyes. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“Sure.”

“It’s not, really.” You meet her gaze with a glance in the mirror. It’s hard to keep, her stare intense and full of judgment— (And worry.) “There’s a bunch of good bands tonight. There’s a touring group— all the way from Pier Point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have no faith in me, do you?” You pout, keeping your voice light, and hoping it comes off as a bit of a jest.

When you finally turn to face Fu Xuan fully, she dips to sit beside you, on her own folded knees. She plucks your soon-to-be-worn lipstick off the ground and uncaps it, just long enough to see the color, before sighing and closing it once more with a pop.

“Not really, no.” Fu Xuan leans against your side, cheeks puffing out. “Not when it comes to him—”

“You can say his name, you know.” You smear chalky highlighter on your cheeks with your fingertips. “It’s not a slur. He’s just some guy.”

“‘Some guy’,” She groans. “If he’s really just some guy, why don’t we skip the gig tonight and stay home? We can order in some nice food, and I could invite Qingque.”

“... I—”

“You know that going is a bad idea, right?” Fu Xuan sighs. “We’ve gone over this before.”

“I’m aware of that.” You can’t suppress your scowl any longer, turning to face her. “Blade is fine—”

“He treats you like shit.”

“He treats everyone like that.”

“That doesn’t make it better. If anything, that makes it worse. You deserve better.” Fu Xuan sounds genuinely upset. “And you can do better. Easily. With literally anyone else, even if you find them at one of your nasty house shows. Try entertaining the thought?”

“You don’t have to be so—” You turn to her, fist balling up on your knees— “So mean about it.”

“It’s messy.”

“And it’s not your business.”

“It’s not!” Fu Xuan says, exasperated as she rolls her eyes. “I really shouldn’t even be bothering, but you are my friend. And it is painful to watch you chase the tail of a man who will hardly give you the time of day or bare minimum respect. Excuse me for showing concern.”

“Your concern is noted.” As it has been before. “But I’m fine. I wasn’t lying earlier— there’s other groups I want to see tonight. You... don’t have to come along just to babysit. I’ll be alright. I know you hate them.”

“I do.”

Fu Xuan crosses her arms and exhales, something angry and burning. “At least let me drive you. I can pick you up later too. Rather I do than some stranger or him—”

“Blade. His name, Fu Xuan.”

“Blade.”

“God, you do say it like a slur.” You roll your eyes, the pit in your stomach having become larger and darker. You swipe below your eyes and thank an Aeon or two that your eyeliner is waterproof.

...

The house venue is a bit out of town, in the rural suburbs on a lot that’s big enough to host a crowd and not bother the nearest neighbors. Fields streak by during your journey, humming with junebugs and chirping with late- summer crickets. Low hills roll by as a harvest moon rises, waxing and half-full.

Fu Xuan drops you at the curb and idles as you collect yourself. A crossbody bag carries your essentials (your phone, your sticky lip products, a lighter to go with the pack of cigarettes that you actually don’t smoke, and two condoms shoved against the bottom). You fiddle with the strap against your shoulder.

“Call me when you need me to pick you up, okay?” Fu Xuan taps the steering wheel. “I’ll be awake.”

“Okay, mom.”

“I mean it—”

“I know.”

“Don’t go home with Blade. Or let him drive you home. He handles a car like he’s trying to kill himself.”

It’s a fair assessment but you still shake your head, trying to seem good-natured despite the rot you feel curling in the back of your throat. Bile, rising, before you have a drop of liquor in you. It’s a little pathetic; you’ll really think so in retrospect. For now, you walk toward the venue itching for a drink in your hand or familiar company. Thundering bass and ripping guitar vibrate from the basement windows, shaking the ground beneath your feet.

A crowd clusters at the back of the house. Folks swap cigarettes and clutch cans of cheap beer and flasks decorated with stickers. You quickly survey, looking for, searching for him—

(He’s usually out here before his set, hiding away somewhere with Kafka sharing cigarettes and glaring at anyone dumb enough to make a pass at her.)

A hand grabs you by the shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Oh my gosh, you’re here! I didn’t know you’d be coming to the gig!”

It’s March, you know. She is easy to identify with the sweet, candy-like perfume she wears and the slight press of her almond-shaped gel manicure into your shoulder. March turns you abruptly, throwing her arms around your shoulders and squeezing. Too tightly, knocking the air out of you in an instant. You give her a tentative hug back and pull away quickly. The contact scalds you.

“Have you seen—?”

“Blade?” March pouts and tilts her head. “You know, I feel like you only come to these things to see that guy. He’s nothing special. And I have seen him. He was off sulking a while ago, by the sheds in the back of the lot.”

“... I’ll have to check. Thanks, March.”

She sighs as you walk away from her, before calling out to Stelle (who is always a step or two behind her anyways.)

You feel— bad about how you treat them. They’re both good people. So is the third in their trio, Dan Heng, a man with a beautiful face and an eerily calm demeanor, especially when compared to his companions. The group of them was introduced to you back when you first started attending these shows, hanging around the scene, and sweating in the basement of mildew-filled houses. They were some of your first friends, and easy to mesh with when you gave yourself the time and space to. Stelle always had a flask with lukewarm vodka or tequila, and March kept a case of seltzers in her trunk. Dan Heng was the ever-reliable sober cab.

(It was nice back then. Before you had become so entangled with Blade and the subsequent social politics that came with chasing and occasionally fucking the hot, albeit emotionally-unavailable bassist of HUNTERS. It was far easier to hold those friendships than to orbit around a man who you can never tell if he hates you or wants to fuck you in his back seat.)

You find Blade tucked away around the side of the house, cloaked in shadow while taking long drags of a cigarette. The cherry glows in the dim light. From the basement window peeking out from the ground, a red glow pours out, illuminating the well-worn combat boots he wears. They’re crusted in filth, falling apart at the toe.

(You’d still lick them if he asked you to. Hump them if he asked you twice.)

Another figure stands across from him. Serene, arms crossed, with storm eyes visible even in the poor lighting. Dan Heng keeps a perfectly neutral expression as he speaks, hushed, to Blade who wears a scowl so perfectly that it looks like he’s carved of immovable stone rather than not flesh.

You’re not quite within earshot. You can’t make out their words, only their tone. It’s an angry exchange, one that’s charged with heat lighting and ire. Blade spits something at Dan Heng, venomous in his tone like he so easily is. Dan Heng replies back something so cooly that it’s like a low-tide wave lapping at your feet.

If you were better, you would turn around and leave. Neither of them know that you’re here, so close. It’s invasive to listen, but you know that there’s... history between Blade and Dan Heng. You’ve always wondered what it is, and considering that Blade has the emotional availability of a rotting vegetable, you won’t be getting those details out of him.

Maybe witnessing their dynamic (yet again) could provide you some clarity—?

(And maybe, if you know why Blade was so, so hurt by Dan Heng, you can do better. You can be the exact thing that Blade wants, and then he will want you, just as much as you want him.)

You listen more keenly:

“I’ve asked you to stop booking shows where the Express is already playing.”

“And I’ve asked you to get off my dick and stop being such a priss, but it doesn’t look like you’ll ever do that.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable.”

“Sure, because clearly asking me to not play prime gigs is ‘reasonable’. Not to mention you should be taking this up with Kafka or Elio, not me. Did you just want an excuse to talk, Imbibitor Lunae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, have something else you’d prefer to be called? I remember plenty of things you liked hearing. Want me to name a few?”

“Hold your tongue—”

A stick cracks behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Bladie~” Kafka purrs behind you, hands sliding up over your shoulders, hot breath over the back of your neck. “We’re on soon. Soundcheck in five, Firefly has a vodka shot for you if you want.”

You’re frozen.

Blade grunts from around the house, and as he does, Dan Heng emerges from the shadows quickly, on hastened feet, and nearly stumbles when you see him. Your expression must be— fucking stupid. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Kafka runs her nails up and down your neck.

As Dan Heng practically sprints off, Kafka croons quietly into your ear, “And what are you doing all the way back here? Looking for Bladie again?”

You don’t need to speak for her to know your answer. Blade’s steps thud against the ground over the short, dry grass.

Part of you knows you should scramble away and pretend you weren’t just lurking like a stray dog begging for kitchen scraps. It’s humiliating to be caught by Kafka (yet again), doing the same shit on a different day. Another part of you, one which is much louder, more persuasive, and saccharine sweet, urges you to face Blade. If you get caught in his maw, good.

Your hands shake as Blade emerges from the dark.

He looks like death. Ghostly pale skin with deep purple eyebags, like bruises. His eyes are cut carnelian, ethereal and volcanic against his parlor. A cigarette hangs between his plump lips, threatening to burn and melt the pieces of his fringe that hang around his cheeks. Long, wild black hair, tipped in faded crimson, falls down his back in frizzy waves. His arms bulge obscenely in the tight, black shirt he wears. A carved jade pendant hangs off of his belt.

Blade stares you down and his scowl deepens, turning even more sour. He mutters something under his breath, something unintelligible but cruel. It’s not the first time he’s spoken to you that way. He’s done so more loudly and more brutally.

You—

(Hate it. You love it. Well, maybe not love, but you crave the way that Blade is awful to you. You’re horrible.)

“Better get inside now,” Kafka hands drift to your waist, tugging on the belt loop of your pants. You let out a little yip. “I’m sure the front row is filling up fast. No need to spy on Bladie if you get a prime spot during the actual set, hm?”

She’s right; she usually is.

Kafka leaves you with an elegant twirl, humming one of HUNTERS songs from their new EP under her breath. You know the tune. You’ve been playing it on repeat for the last two months.

It’s easy to follow the jarring trills of soundcheck as you float inside the home, following the trail of people headed toward the basement. Descending down the rickety, railingless stairs into thick, humid air that reeks of sweat, beer, and fledging mold. Down, down, down you go— maybe to hell, where you perhaps belong.

...

Moon Drinker by HUNTERS

You taught me that the high moon

Was our lovers’ sigil

How quickly did you throw away our runes

How empty is your cup

Moon Drinker

That you would break mine too

...

The gig is decent. That’s how these shows tend to be and you enjoy them just enough to tolerate the stench and humidity of grungy basements like this one.

Three bands play, IP3, the Express, and HUNTERS. The interest you expressed to Fu Xuan about Pier Point’s IP3 was a lie, but they’re not bad. The frontman, a blond with eyes like inverted crystals, has a sultry edge to his voice that verges on sexual. It’s a cleaner sound that rips into something dirtier, filthier, as their set goes on.

The Express follows IP3. You’ve seen them more times than you can count, but the trio is still nice to listen to, even now. March always plays with the crowd in between her harmonies in a way that riles folks up just enough without causing abject chaos. The band plays a new song you don’t know, one that is angry and loud and so unlike their normal sound. Dan Heng is on vocals, rather than solely on guitar, and you’re reminded of how mournful and melodic his voice can be. The exact words of the piece get eaten by the cement foundation of the basement, but you imagine that it’s an elegy.

HUNTERS is last on.

They usually are, as their music is the loudest and gnarliest, and they’re typically the most well-known (even if they have a shit reputation and their crowds leave trashed venues in their wake). You feel— insane when they start playing. You know all of their songs, even if you don’t really like their music. Kafka’s voice is hypnotic in a way that’s disarming, even on a recording. Silver Wolf is too good of a drummer for the caliber of band that they are, and Firefly shreds easily on guitar, trained on strings since childhood, but using her talents in a grunge band rather than on a world stage.

Blade’s bass playing is messy. Though his tempo is sure and unwavering, the actual rhythm drags and punches in intervals that verge on unnerving. You have never been able to place if this is due to whatever rage and poison he carries into music making, or if his fingers are as arthritic as Kafka jokes that they are.

It doesn’t really matter, in the end. The sound blends together in a cacophony that sounds like the way bursted flesh looks. If you could taste the way their newest EP sounded, it would be the iron tang of blood and the acrid burn of bile.

You’re fucked for it— for Blade. You’ve been since you first became tangled in this web.

A pit opens in the middle of the crowd, small at first, but rapidly widening, with more and more people throwing themselves into it. They bounce around and bash against the individuals at the sides of the pit, only to be shoved back in a moment later.

You try to stay away from it. Instead, you watch Blade like a fucking pervert.

The basement has gotten hot. Steamy, if you look hard enough at the air that barely circulates against the low, pipe-ridden ceiling. Blade has thrown his hair up in a high ponytail, wisps of hair still cling to his neck and temples, sweat visibly rolling down his neck. His shirt sticks to his toned chest as the overclocked speakers try to keep up with the HUNTERS most recently released song— ‘MOON DRINKER’.

Blade doesn’t look at you. Not once.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, deeper in the crowd, beyond the bodies in the pit and those who hang at the outskirts by the house’s ancient boiler. Blade’s attention is fixed on— something (someone. You can assume who.) Not once does his gaze drift down his instrument, and never does he acknowledge the way you stand in the front row, so close, with your attention squarely on him.

(This is normal. So normal, it’s painful.)

The pit expands even further, widening as more gig-goers jump into mosh as one song bleeds into the next. You almost get swirled in yourself as a stranger slams into your side with enough force to nearly knock you to the ground.

A broad, warm hand catches you by your bicep, hoisting you up before you even have a chance to fall.

“Be careful now,” It’s Jing Yuan (who is much too powerful and rich to be at a basement show, but yearning pushes you both to do stupid, nonsensical things) who speaks directly into your ear, so you can hear him even as your ears ring muffled. “Are you alright?”

You turn to nod at him, flashing him a thumbs up and nervous smile. The cologne he wears permeates the space around you, overpowering the sweat and mildew with ease. He gives you an easy smile and a squeeze, before letting you. He sidesteps your frame to be closer to the pit, crossing his arms over his chest and shielding you from the worst of the throng.

You’re grateful for the cover; it would be embarrassing to topple over right in front of Blade.

It takes you a moment to recenter yourself, lost in Jing Yuan’s scent and the roar of Firefly’s final, aching guitar riffs. You look back to HUNTERS once more as they finish out their set in a loud, carnal flourish. The expensive speakers they’ve dragged with them are going to fucking blow out—

Blade is staring at you.

Not into the crowd, toward the placid face and cold heart that so clearly plague him, not to his bandmates or instrument, but looking at you.

In the red-lit basement, his eyes nearly glow, unnatural in their anger as they always are. It seemed more concentrated, feral and crystallized in its intensity. Rage. You want to cower under it while your insides feel hot and frigid all at once. He pierces so easily, so thoughtlessly. As the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts as the set ends, you cannot move. Staked in place.

Not once does Blade look away from you, and his mouth does not deviate from the twisted frown he wears.

...

Swordmaker by HUNTERS

If I were forged alongside you,

Do you think I would forgive you then?

If iron was your skin,

Steel your lungs

and lead your heart,

You would be easier to hold.

Empty are memories

Full is the garden

And bloody is the blade.

…

You should be better than this.

Blade slams you up against the back of the shed, the motion jarring and far too fast to be pleasant. Your head knocks painfully against the wood and peeling paint, and despite how you whimper with the impact, Blade doesn’t react. He doesn’t seem to care.

(You know he doesn’t.)

He hikes your leg up over his hip and grinds against your core through your pants. The motion is rough, clumsy and far too harsh to be pleasurable. The dry friction through your panties makes you squirm and dig your nails into his shoulders. Blade grunts in your ear. You think he likes the pain.

The gig was only let out half an hour ago, and plenty of people are still milling around. Whispers are circulating about if and where there will be an afterparty. You weren’t paying much attention to them— they’re easy to ignore— especially when Blade had been dragging you by the wrist just far enough away from the main house to fuck without being overtly noticeable.

(Barely, though. Blade can be loud and you can be loud when you’re with him. You’re tempting fate to be caught, seen with him in this way. It’s an open secret that you’re the scraps that Blade entertains himself with, but you would rather not be caught with your literal pants down.)

Blade smells like cigarettes and sweat. The scent of unclean smoke tangles in his unruly hair as you get a grip on it and tug. The juncture of his neck has the faintest hint of some cologne you’re sure he doesn’t know the name of and stale sweat. You press your lips there and dare to drag your tongue across his skin and taste him. It’s not a good taste, not necessarily, but you love it. Salty and filthy. (It’s disgusting, but familiar and morosely comforting.) You are drunk on it and it makes you feel pathetic at the same time.

A growl sounds in your ear as Blade pins you with his weight to the shed. Dragging you back from his neck, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him fully.

“Don’t leave marks.” He paralyzes you with his stare and sneer.

“I’d never.” You try to sound earnest, even if it’s a lie. Because you would— you’d bite and tear at his neck (like he does at yours) until the skin there is black and blue. Happily, you would leave hickies above his collar. Split his lip and bite his jaw hard enough to bleed. You could wear his blood on your teeth and smile for once at these fucking gigs.

Instead, you do not bite him. You just let Blade maul you as he desires.

He grinds against your core. The pressure is unpleasant at this point, too much and too little all at the same time. When you whimper now, he just ignores you and slips his hands under your shirt. He grabs your waist in both hands and squeezes.

“Turn around,” says Blade, already twisting you himself, so your front is pressed against the shed.

“H-Here?” You laugh nervously. Despite your... reputation, something cold, unwelcome and uncomfortable settles in you. “C-Can’t we go to your car? Or inside?”

“Maybe later.”

(It’s awful. It’s sick, the way your heart flutters at the implications of ‘later’. ‘Later’ means more of him. More of Blade’s time, his touch, his hardly-there care. More scraps for you to gorge yourself on, more time to beg for more. It’s sick. It’s sick how fucked you are for him.)

Blade reaches around your front to undo the button at the top of your trousers. In a swift motion, he has them around your thighs. Just enough that he can bend you over and access your cunt with some amount of ease. He keeps your panties on at first (he usually does this. You’re never sure why. You can delude yourself into thinking it’s him taking his time with you, but you know that that is a lie).

Blade places one of his hands on the back of your neck to flatten you against the shed, while the other must be unbuttoning his own pants to get his cock out, based on the jingling of metal and shred of a zipper. You swallow, your mouth dry. You’re dry, but you know that if you try to touch yourself to prep at this point, Blade will only be meaner.

The most he does is run two fingers over your slit, over your panties. It’s barely enough contact on your clit to be felt, but you gasp and shudder anyway. Canting your hips back, you try to encourage more contact. Anything he’ll give you.

He sighs behind you. Disappointed. Aggravated. It makes you want to cry.

Blade peels down your panties. The cold air shocks you, your core tightening up, but you hardly have time to adjust to the temperature before Blade’s equally cold hands fully part your folds. He sighs again, pulling away only to spit on his fingers, and smear his saliva around your hole. It feels dirty. You feel dirty.

When Blade pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact (at how cold it is, at how the crowd milling around smoking cigarettes and cheap weed is just on the other side of this dilapidated shed crows and laughs into the night). You swear you can recognize March’s giggle above the din of conversation.

You’re brought back to your entanglement with a harsh slap to your ass. Harsh and audible. The sound that escapes your lips is choked and high.

“Don’t get distracted,” Blade huffs. He spits again, presumably on his dick.

You nod, latching onto the pain radiating from slap to your ass. As if sensing it, Blade lays down another strike. This one is hotter, harder. He isn’t holding back. It is sure to bruise the tender flesh there. A mark. Something that will tangibly ache, something leftover from your tryst.

You could cry.

The velvety head of Blade’s cock nudges your folds. He brackets you into the wall, arms on either side of you. Heat radiates off his chest and sinks into your spine.

“‘Feels good?” He asks, voice hoarse as he coats himself in your meager slick.

“Y-yeah,” you lie. It’s not enough to feel good. You don’t care.

Blade seems content enough with your answer as he bears down on you. Flattening you to the dirt-covered shed, he hitches his hip down, then up, trying to fit the tip of his cock into your hole. He maneuvers your hips as he pleases, grunting when the tip of him catches on your cunt. When you dare to whine, even the smallest sound, he cracks his hand down on your ass again. Your vision speckles into darkness with the shot of pain and—

(The roar of anxiety and subsequent shame when you realize how much quieter the milling crowd nearby has become.)

“Hold still.” Blade's voice has sunk low, gravely with the cigarettes he’s been smoking all evening.

The next time his cock touches your opening, he presses in without hesitation.

It’s—

It’s too fucking much.

It is, it always is, every single fucking time he fucks you. Any prep he gives you is perfunctory. Blade will never lavish you with attention, not in the way that you probably need. That you—

(Might even deserve.)

No, the most that Blade will do is fuck you filthy behind a shed, near some of his more well-adjusted peers and probably come inside of you. On past occasions, he has let you suck him off in the backseat of his car. He’s only accidentally (‘accidentally’) came on your face a few times. Less than ten, more than five. Once, he ate you out for a few minutes, but you swear to god he was groaning someone else’s name as he did.

(You’re fucking pathetic.)

This is always too much. Blade is too big. Too big, even if you were stretched and primed with a few fingers like would be right and proper. As tight and dry as you are, it’s painful. He has to grind into your cunt with rolling little thrust so he can fit himself in at all. Each one shocks a breath out of you, a shattering, fragile sound.

When Blade bottoms out, he lays flat over your back. The weight of him is suffocating. His corded muscle is all dead weight above you as his cock twitches inside you. You can’t tell if he’s idling to allow you some time to adjust, or purely for his own leisure. You can’t be sure. You don’t want to ask him either.

“You’re tight.” Blade’s voice threatens to break.

(Of course you are. He’s the only person you will let fuck you, and these trysts only occur every few weeks, when there’s a show that you can be cornered at.)

He bucks into you, deeper still. The head of his cock is touching parts of you that shouldn’t be touched.

You whimper, “Blade—”

He growls in response. It’s a raspy and low tone that makes arousal burn in your gut and leak down your thighs. (You hope so anyway— it’s more wet and you don’t think it hurts enough that you’re bleeding.) Blade fucks you in earnest, then. There’s no delay, no waiting, no potential for momentary, perceived niceties. He pulls out of you almost completely, then thrusts back into you in one single motion. The friction burns and your vision wavers.

(You still moan like a whore.)

You feel— dirty. Disgusting. Pathetic as he fucks you like. You don’t feel like a person as he fucks you; you never do. How could you? The grip he uses on your hips is too bruising and the force and strength he’s using to brutalize your cunt is just too much. He fucks you like he’s taking anger out on a piece of drywall. Blade shares physically with you in the way a dog shreds a chew toy to bits, then leaves it on the ground to fester.

Blade grunts next to your ear, nipping there.

He doesn’t kiss you— well, not often. He can’t with your current position. You wouldn’t expect him to anyway. Sometimes he leaves a ring of dark hickies across your neck, like a collar. You like those, but he always waits an extra long time to see you after he marks you like that.

(You presume to make sure that the bruises have fully yellowed, then faded. A clean canvas.)

Blade’s pace increases, just before he pulls out. His cock rests on the cleft of your ass and he tips his forehead to rest on the shed, just beside yours.

“You’re still dry.”

“Sorry—”

He cuts you off. “It’s fine.”

...

It apparently isn’t fine.

Blade drags you toward the house. He barks at someone, then Kafka, to find a room. You feel dazed as he does. Out of your body, as you receive a number of knowing and unknowing stares from the lingering show-goers who cluster around a firepit.

(How many of them heard you just now? How many know the exact sounds you make when in barely-there pleasure? In certainly-there pain? How many of them know the sound of Blade’s too-big cock slapping into your too-dry cunt?)

It makes you feel sick to think about.

A room must be found for the two of you, as Blade drags you up the stairs of the back porch.

As he does, he hesitates.

(He has so rarely done this.)

His gaze is not on you; it pierces elsewhere in the dark. A floodlight off the back of the house illuminates a section of the yard, and just beyond its reach, nestled somewhere between the dark and light, he fixates. His jaw sets and locks.

There are figures, you realize.

They’re easy to identify once you actually focus. One is lithe and short-haired, the other broad-shouldered and long-haired. Dan Heng and Jing Yuan. Speaking on the outskirts. It feels private. Their attention turns from their hushed conversation to the two of you as Blade stares daggers and swords into them. As if he could pierce them with nothing more than his silent rage and angry eyes.

You freeze.

Their expressions are obscured in the lowlight, but you can almost feel the looks they give you. Like a sickly mucus that gets stuck to you and rolls down your flesh in slow, cold globs.

Dan Heng (once so dear to you, still probably dear to you—) looks guarded, thought darkened. Contempt twists his expression, anger following just after. You’d ever wager that he’s disgusted, maybe. Probably with you, because he knows you’re better than this. Beside him, Jing Yuan wears an expression of careful passivity, of geniality, as he always does, but it’s tinged with something sad and old. For all parties involved in this silent, momentary exchange.

Jing Yuan regards you directly, slowly blinking at you, as though he was a large house cat intent on making you feel safe, and not a presence that only drives the bubbling anxiety in you higher.

It’s a seconds-long encounter that stretches for an eternity. You cannot make yourself move. You cannot feel anything other than rotten and small.

Blade lets out a harsh exhale and yanks you away. The scene breaks and you’re dragged inside. He whispers under his breath, vitriol-tinging his tone. Your panties feel sticky and wet as you walk.

Kafka had found a room for you, on the second floor of the house. God knows whose it actually is. You don’t get a good look at the room as Blade pushes you inside.. It’s dim, the only light is licking in from the dirty window, an afterburn from the raging bonfire outside. You hear muffled voices still, leaking in like a draft.

Blade locks the door and pushes you onto the unmade bed.

It’s a cheap mattress with flannel sheets. It smells like old weed smoke and cheap incense. Fu Xuan would tell you that you deserve better than this. You think you might.

Blade climbs on top of you, jaw still locked, and eyes far away.

(You do wonder what happened between him and Dan Heng. Something did. Something gutting and heartbreaking— you hear it when Blade sings. A betrayal, an intangible knife cut but still so painful. Dan Heng has always spoken about Blade with a type of protective neutrality. He warned you to never get involved with Blade. To stay away, to not get on Blade’s bad side, and if something did entangle you with him, Dan Heng could sort it out. He has always cared so fiercely for those he loves; it’s a shame that you have squandered it.)

(Blade is a sentimentalist. Blade is so held in the past that it chokes him. It always has, during every moment you’ve shared with him. He lingers in the bloody past, he holds it in his hands with a grip that’s meant to snap bird wings and flay flesh. He hates Dan Heng. He still loves him, though. You see it on his face sometimes. You hear it in Blade’s music. The ache, the death, the unending grief and mourning and rage that the man simply won’t let go of.)

(It is obsession.)

It shouldn’t make you bitter to think about. Yet, it does. It’s not your place to hold those types of feelings, let alone express them. For so many reasons, Blade will never see you as anything more than a cheap fuck. You think Dan Heng is the primary one. Over time, you’ve grown bitter. Resentful.

Blade pulls off your shirt in one swift move. He’s slower than he usually is. More deliberate. His hands are shaking, like how they do just after he finishes a set. It’s… off—

You hate it. You hate that the lingering pain of someone else will effect Blade more than you ever, ever could in the present.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. His breath catches as you do.

”What the fuck is your deal?” You sneer at him. There’s a cruel edge in your voice that does not sound like you. Blade brings out the worst in you, and you fall prey to it, so easily.

Blade glances up at you, eyes sharp like cut gems. He says nothing.

”You and Dan Heng,” you laugh. You don’t mean to— you don’t, you don’t— and you yank Blade’s hair so he has to look at you better. “It’s pathetic, you know. How you look at him like a kicked fucking dog. What happened between the two of you, anyways?”

Blade freezes. So do you.

You’ve misstepped so brutally. So stupidly and tragically and idiotically. You’ve pushed too hard for what—?

Blade is on his haunches in an instance and he slaps you across the face.

Your head follows the force of the impact, forcing your face to the side. Your cheek smarts. It wasn’t— that hard. Blade is strong. He could do worse. Still, it shocks you. The pain is enough to make you gasp and reel.

”What the fuck—“

”Don’t,” Blade grabs your jaw, “open your mouth about things you know nothing about. You should know better.”

You should. You do.

”I could know more, if you ever told me, I don’t know— anything?” You laugh in his face, manic behind your eyes. You’re crushing the delicate nature of your cheap arrangement like how a child would crush a flighty butterfly’s papery wings.

Blade shakes his head, smothering a laugh. He wrangles you forward, half-off risen from the bed, and parts your lips with his thumb. Before you can react, bite, claw— he is raising himself higher than you, dwarfing you in height, and spitting down into your mouth, onto your tongue.

”You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” He pats the side of your face, over the cheek that he struck. It burns. In another world, this touch would be tender. Here, you can only wince.

Before you can reply, continue to run your mouth and rile him up further, Blade kisses you.

It shocks you, stuns you.

He— he hasn’t ever kissed you before. It’s never been an explicit boundary, but never once during these trysts has Blade ever initiated this type of contact. It has felt dangerous to do so yourself. Something that’s too intimate, too personal to share. The core of your entanglement is the way he uses you. It’s impersonal.

A kiss, you think, implies something more tender.

You gasp into his lips, and he takes the opportunity to all but violate the inside of your mouth. His tongue plunders inside, licking at his own spit that you have yet to swallow. A noise chokes off in the back of your throat. Something desperate and shocked that you hardly recognize. It’s filthy. He nips at your lips and pushes you back down.

Blade devours you.

It’s too much, really. It’s a gesture of tenderness that has been so thoroughly mutilated, calling it a kiss feels paltry. The way his lips are on your own is much more like an argument and a subsequent conquest. One in which you lose ground. He nips at your lower lip, snags it between his teeth, and tugs it as he pulls away.

You pant, the sound of your own breath roars in your own ears. Your hands are still buried in his hair, grip unyielding, anchoring you.

Blade smiles, something poisonous and satisfied. You are too drunk on the singular kiss he gives you to care that much.

“That’s all it takes, is it?” He laughs, the sound dark and rolling, like the sound of an earthquake cracking the earth.

He already knows you’ll beg for scraps. God forbid he gives you even a morsel more.

The bed squeaks as he flips you by your hips so you’re laid flat, belly-down on the dirty sheets. Blade spanks your still-clothed ass for good measure before rustling around behind you. Assumedly to disrobe, just enough to fuck you. Assumedly, to ignore the condoms you brought (knowing he would disregard them—). Assumedly, to fuck you with every inch of your life.

You want it. You want him so badly it physically hurts.

(Or, maybe you tore while he had you behind the shed. Who is to say?)

Blade clamors behind you, shaking, arthritic hands tugging your pants by the waistband. He doesn’t even bother to unzip them this time. Your panties get pulled down along with them, and they get tossed elsewhere in the barely-lit room. Blade spits behind you, and a sound of too-dry stroking follows.

“D-do you want me to suck you off?” you ask with a hum. You’d let him fuck your face, if he asked. Or, if he wanted. Blade wouldn’t ask.

“No.”

“Just let me know.”

Blade sighs behind you, but you think little of it.

You brace yourself up on your elbows, lowering your upper half to be flat against the bed, and arching your hips as high as they’ll go. It’s as if to make yourself look appetizing. You hope it entices Blade, even a little.

(Please, you need him to want you. You need him to want you so badly. Please, please, please—)

The head of Blade’s cock rubs as your hole, down to your clit, then back up again a few times. He’s so hot, it’s like he is burning you. Contact that scalds. The contact against your clit is... nice. It’s the most warm up he has graced you with in a while. You could crave more, but settle for this.

“C’mon Blade,” you whine. Your voice sounds airy. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t reply, not with his voice. The rocking of his hips becomes more pronounced, and the slide of him against you becomes slicker. Still too big, too hot, but wet at least. Which is a bonus. Pre and blood are probably leaking onto the shaft at least a little bit too.

It makes it easier once he slides home in a single blow.

It’s too fucking deep— especially with this angle. The head of his cock presses against your deepest parts, bruises them in a place where no one can see or feel but you. Blade is huge, the girth of him stretches you as his hips rest against your ass.

A wretched noise bubbles up past your lips. Something between a cry and a plea, for more, for less— to go home, to be in a warm, clean bed with someone who actually cares— you aren’t sure. Your desires have been twisted up and wrong for so long, you can’t tell what you really want.

It makes you feel rotten, and then there’s only one thing you want.

(To hurt.)

Blade fucks you, then. Fully in, fully out of. Long and deep thrusts that carve out your insides in a brutal way. It’s violent. He leans over your back, and braces himself over you. You feel small, stupid, and hurt. A horrible swirl of things that make tears spring up at the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in the crusty pillow you’d manage to snag nearby—

And Blade tugs it away immediately. His big, calloused hand curls to hold your jaw up, so every pitiful whine and whimper you let out can’t be muffled. The bed squeaks as his thrusts slow.

“Don’t hide.”

“I-I won’t.”

“You were.”

“I won’t a-again—”

“You want this, don’t you?” Blade growls in your ears, then moves to the most fragile skin of your neck and bites.

(You do, you do— god you do. You need this.)

You nod, and Blade keeps biting. His jaw nearly locks. You’re sure that you’ll be bruised for a week.

Blade scoffs and rears back, grabs your hips in both hands for leverage. And he fucks you.

That’s all it can be, really. You can’t get a solid hold on anything. The pillow has been thrown off the bed, and you struggle to find purchase on the sheets. All you do is take it. Pleasure, or something like it, builds in your core and goes nowhere. It simmers but never crests anywhere near orgasm.

You don’t mind. This is enough.

Blade’s pace increases, never frantic. Never with him. Manic maybe, insane, tortured and damaged, but never frantic. Not with you. His rhythm falters as his cock slides in and out of you, slick beginning to stick to the inside of your thighs.

His hand comes down on his ass. The other cheek, this time. It’s enough force to bruise again. You’ll have trouble sitting for a week.

As Blade nears his peak, his rhythm stutters. His breath grows harsher and more strained. His grip goes from bruising to breaking. You gasp with the pain, but don’t tell him to stop. His cock brushes against your cervix, and never your sweet spot.

Blade flattens you to bed, prone, and puts his entire weight on top of you as his orgasm hits him. A strangled cry shatters from his lips into your ear as he fucks you too fast and too hard. A gush of warmth fills your insides, spilling to your outsides when there isn’t enough of you to hold all of him.

The bed frame slams into the wall with his final few thrusts.

You lay there, in the filth, in the pain and the dissatisfaction of the tryst, and rot.

...

Blade leaves you there, at some point.

Not right away, but eventually. He rolls off you at some point, catches his breath for a while, checks his phone, then rises to right himself.

You cannot make yourself move. The only thing you can make yourself do is take slow, measured breaths. Each ache in your body is punctuated, loud and unignorable now that the fizzling pleasure of sex has dissipated. What’s left of it is this: carnage.

“You have a ride home?” Blade asks. He must be near the door, based on the sound of his voice.

Fu Xuan’s warning words come to mind, and shame fills your belly.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

And he leaves.

You rot for a while longer.

This is not the first encounter that has gone this way. Blade fucks you like this and leaves. There’s no reverie or sweetness. There is using and being used, and the conclusion that always follows is this. Cooling, soon-to-be dry cum leaking out of you in thick droplets and a bite mark on your neck you’ll need to conceal for the next two weeks. Blade will ignore you like he doesn’t know you, next time he sees. But still fucks you like a toy.

It’s awful. It’s all you want.

You force yourself up at some point.

You’re surprised to find that your pants and panties are in a heap on the end of the bed. You are sure that they were tossed farther, but perhaps you misremember. Painstakingly, you rerobe yourself. Moving your legs in such ways hurts so bad, you could cry. You probably did cry while Blade fucked you.

The quick stop in the squalid bathroom confirms this. Mascara smudges around your eyes and down your cheeks. The sticky gloss you were wearing has been smeared away. Not even a stain of the crimson remains.

You feel hollow as you walk down the stairs, outside, toward the bonfire and its rapidly dwindling flames. A few folks still millaround, people you recognize, just barely, though no one you could call a friend remains around the pit. Stelle, March, and Dan Heng are long gone, probably. You’d feel too ashamed to look them in the eye anyway.

Someone offers you a warm beer and you take it. Your hands shake.

Hollow and wordless, you move around the backyard like a specter. Part of you wishes you were one, just something mostly formless and shapeless. Transparent. No one could see you make a fool of yourself that way. There would be no witnesses to your desperation and perversion.

You swallow back bile when it rises in your throat, and wash it down with a chug from the can.

You’re surprised to find Jing Yuan idling around the corner of the house. He looks up when you near him, and he greets you with the same genial smile he always wears. He nods to the space next him, already plucking a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his shirt. You take one, and he lights it for you in the next instant.

“It looks like you needed that,” he hums. He doesn't take one for himself, only tucking the carton away and out of sight.

“Maybe.” You want to vomit. Or slide down the wall of the house and rot there.

He laughs then. It’s too... warm of a sound for how you feel. For how dirty these venues are, and for the company that you have come to hold, it feels dissonant. Jing Yuan is too kind, too patient.

(He cannot be your friend because your ruin would spread to him, maybe.)

“Take as many as you like,” he urges with a hum, and settles next to you.

Silently, you ruminate. Descend into yourself. You suppose, given the events you’ve seen tonight, that you’re both stewing in something akin to yearning.

(Jing Yuan is better than you for it. He, at least, doesn’t sleep with his unrequited adored in someone else’s bed after a messy house show.)

“Do you have a way home?” asks Jing Yuan, breaking you from your slow-rolling spiral.

You shake your head. It would be rude to call Fu Xuan so late. You— you hadn’t really thought about a ride. Not yet.

Jing Yuan looks you up and down and his smile looks sadder, “How about a ride home?”

“Sure.” You nod.

The ride back home in Jing Yuan’s (too nice, too expensive, too decadent) car is quiet. An album from a band you don’t recognize plays at a low volume. Soothing, soft voices, so juxtaposed from the venue you leave behind. Maybe you just can’t recognize the words because you’re decaying. Your phone lays in your lap, over your aching thighs.

[no new messages]

(Because Blade never messages you after a fuck. You’re not worth that much to him.)

...

Gingerly, you unlock your front door and enter your little apartment. Fu Xuan lays on the couch, on her back, with her phone against her collarbone. Her mouth is parted in peaceful sleep, though her hair is still done up, all of her pins are still in.

(She waited for you, again. And you failed her, again.)

You don’t know how she puts up with you. Or why either.

Some part of you wants to vomit. Wretch, like it’ll purge the awful, disgusting thoughts warming you. They do not serve you. You should just—

(Know better. You gain nothing from entangling yourself from Blade. The sex is... enough. Because Blade doesn’t know his own strength sometimes and makes it hurt, unintentionally toeing the line between too little and too much. It’s still not worth it. It shouldn’t be worth it. You’d be better off never going to any gigs, ever again. You wouldn’t have to disappoint and embarrass yourself to your old friends then. You wouldn’t have to linger in the yearning of others while never having that affection given to you.)

You collapse atop your bed. Your makeup has been roughly scrubbed off with an old towel, and you can feel the crunchy remnants of mascara clinging around your eyes. You can’t make yourself care. Burying your face in your pillow, you burrow into your blankets. You’ll probably be sore and hungover tomorrow... today? The songbirds are just beginning to chirp their morning arias. It makes you sick to your stomach.

As you begin to doze, your phone vibrates.

[one new message]

blade: did you get home

Your mouth feels dry and your chest feels so tight you could die.

you: yeah. jing yuan drove me.

[seen: 5:11 AM]

You hold your breath as Blade begins to type. Then stops typing. Then begins again. It goes on for several volleys and you really do think you might puke.

blade: get some sleep

You drop your phone somewhere in your sheets. Giddiness fills your chest, despite the exhaustion and ache and bone-rotting fatigue. Elation causes you to smile, something wide and girlish that you have to hide in your pillow, lest it be beared to the world.

(It’s a scrap. It’s nothing. It’s worse than the bare minimum and the bar is already in hell.)

But, it’s something.

A morsel. Something to clutch onto and hold and cherish.

You want to put his words between your teeth and swallow.

#lore writes #blade x reader #ren x reader #hsr x reader #thank you to bitti for giving me so much juice to work with!!!#thank you to my early 20s and my time in the local music scene to reach about the most toxic men you can imagine <3 #ENJOY LOVES <3

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rhaenella · 10 months ago

Text

CL16 | Is It Over Now? | pt.7

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

genre: social media au

summary: you and charles have been everyone's fave couple on the grid, but when you somewhat unexpectedly break up, you turn to songwriting to cope with the pain

face claim: léon

a/n: the finale... once again, all songs mentioned are either by taylor swift or léon. happy reading x

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

masterlist

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Liked by taylorswift, danielricciardo and 1,292,849 others

y/n: End & New Beginnings. ONE WEEK.

✨Is It Over Now?~Say Don’t Go~Bigger Than The Whole Sky~You’re Losing Me~Now That We Don’t Talk~Pretty Boy✨

View all 12,138 comments

user55: y/n’s latest masterpiece is incoming!!

user56: YES GIRL LETS GO

user57: omg finally 😱

user58: can’t fucking wait 💛

user59: babe are you realizing you’re releasing on friday the 13th 💀

user56: y/n is like “i’ve conquered all this year’s bad luck already, no one can stop me”

6 October

Liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 1,450,288 others

y/n: It feels like it’s been a long time coming and now it’s here, my new EP ‘End & New Beginnings’ 🤍 Been a few sleepless nights making this to be honest. Ups and downs like always. But now I’m just so happy to let go of it and let you have it, and hopefully you’ll embrace it and make it yours.

To the incredible people who’ve been a part of this record, THANK YOU! Couldn’t have done it without you…

Here’s to the end & new beginnings 🕊️

View all 14,159 comments

taylorswift: Perfection 🥰✨🎼😍💋

y/n: ❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo: ART.

Liked by y/n

lilymhe: Beautiful work sweetie, I can’t with how talented you are 🥹 You made me cry the entire 23 mins (and then again cuz it was on repeat)

y/n: Awww, thank you love 🥰 and I’m sorryyyy 🙊

alex_albon: It’s so so good! I didn’t cry tho…

lilymhe: Liar

Liked by y/n

landonorris: Wow 💕

Liked by y/n

yourbestfriend: You’ve outdone yourself once again, darling, love you

y/n: I love you more baby

user60: as someone who’s just gone through a terrible breakup too, i cannot express how comforting it is to hear these songs and realize i’m not alone

Liked by y/n

13 October

—

You let your phone drop to the bathroom counter, blinking slowly, unable to fathom the conversation that had just taken place. Had he really just said those things? Scrolling through the texts confirmed that yes, he had indeed. The bastard.

Charles had always been the jealous type. But attacking you like that when he had been the one to… It was absolutely ridiculous. Apparently he still couldn’t—or wouldn’t—grasp the depths of how much he had actually hurt you.

You’d loved him with all of your heart. Until he had ripped it out and hurled it to the floor, letting it shatter into a million tiny pieces. Yet, even then, you would’ve forgiven him. If only he’d apologised. If only he’d shown true remorse. But he hadn’t. And so you’d been forced to walk the path of mending your own heart, and move on with your life.

Perhaps a small part of you had hoped that he could be happy for you. That somehow, even after everything, you would be able to greet each other normally—that you could coexist peacefully. But as his texts just now had demonstrated, that wasn’t going to happen. Not right now. And definitely not next week in Texas. You sighed. It would’ve been too good to be true, anyway. Especially considering who you were currently seeing…

A light knock sounded at the door, startling you out of those thoughts.

“Are you almost ready to go, darling?” a male voice asked, soft.

Right. Dinner. Celebrations.

You had been in the midst of applying the finishing touches to your makeup and outfit before Charles had interrupted, quite literally shocking you to the core when his name had appeared on your lock screen. He’d been the last person you’d expected to hear from today.

You swallowed the bitter taste that Charles’ texts had managed to leave behind. He wasn’t worth it, you repeated to yourself. You weren’t going to let his shenanigans ruin a perfect night—a perfect date. You ran a hand through your hair and readjusted the necklace around your neck when the bathroom door creaked open behind you.

Looking up, your eyes met your handsome, new boyfriend’s through the mirror. He was smiling, eyebrows raised in silent question, ever patient as he waited for you to finish up. You felt your pulse quicken at the sight of him, dressed to perfection in a dark suit, hair neatly tousled.

As always, his presence was able to reassure you within the blink of an eye, the tense muscles in your neck and shoulders relaxing as you gladly let all of your complex emotions fall away.

“Yes,” you nodded, a genuine smile spreading across your lips. “I’m ready.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

THE END

but who is she with? well, there’s a little (and not so subtle) easter egg that refers back to the beginning of part 6 that will confirm certain things… have you spotted it?

thank you everyone for coming along on this ride! it’s been a hell of a lot of fun writing and creating this story 🥰 my apologies to all the y/n x charles shippers out there, but as our songbird said: here’s to the end and new beginnings…

Now, if you'd like, please cast your votes below :)

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Tags: @sukisheadlights @eviethetheatrefreak @blueflorals @kiskso @dessxoxsworld @treehouse-mouse @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @clown-fc @stopeatread @vanishingcherry @bb-swift @leclercdream @scenesofobx @kagatinkita @allywthsr @evieepepi08 @viennakarma @riverjane-d @httpjeonlicious @madnesstaking0ver @futurecorps3 @celesteblack08 @sadg3 @simxican @glow-ish @spideybv28 @laneyspaulding19 @tswizzleismother @slytherinfolk25 @merchelsea @1655clean @urgirlnextdoorr @cixrosie @lightdragonrayne @lxclerc @hopexcroc @nichmeddar @imthebadguyyy

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x singer reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc fake social media #formula 1 smau #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc blurb #is it over now?

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 3 months ago

Text

Guess

Gif credits

Pairing/AU: soft boyfriend!Joel Miller x AFAB!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 1775

Warning: +18, minors please don’t interact! Basically PwP (or very little one lol), established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), pussy pronouns, sex in a public space, sex in a restroom, drinking (very little), reader has breasts and pussy and wears a dress, other than that no other description is given, Joel is soft, reader is so eager and they are stupidly in love, pet names (baby, kitty, kitten), written listening to “Guess” by Charli xcx featuring Billie Eilish.

I wrote it furiously and impulsively, no proofreading and no beta, I hope there aren't too many mistakes 💀 English is not my first language so please, be kind.

Thank you so much to anyone who will read this ❤️

This little game between you and Joel is taking place again tonight.

You dressed super secretive in your bathroom and he took you out to dinner.

Now you’re in a pretty crowded place, enjoying a meal together and looking at each other like you’re starving for a decade.

It’s just like that, between the two of you.

He’s right next to you on a little padded bench at a secluded table and won't stop whispering in your ear feigning total indifference as if he were talking about the weather or Mr. Something's house he's finishing renovating.

“Those pink ones?”

You shake your head smiling slyly “nope, try again”

He looks at his plate, calm and collected, as if he were only focused on cutting the steak in front of him.

He comes closer to your ear again “The blue ones with the little rose?”

You try to show the same composure but it's difficult, increasingly difficult every time you hear his voice get a little hoarse and deeper.

“Nope”

He scoff and take his glass to have a sip of wine.

You giggle “oh come on, you can do better than this”

He places a hand on your thigh under the table, squeezing gently. “It would be easier if you let me touch it a little bit.”

“Absolutely not, not yet. You know the rules,” and he squeezes again, a little harder, looking briefly into your eyes with a smirk that nails you to the bench.

The waitress comes to ask if everything is okay and you feel his hand move, his touch still warm on your skin as you quickly reply that everything is perfect. The girl fills your glasses with water and walks away.

Joel laughs at your embarrassment and you playfully slap him on the shoulder.

You try to go back to your dinner but he whispers again, “Those black lace ones?”

And you know he’s right, you bite your lower lip and you stifle a sound of disappointment, the game is over sooner than you wanted.

You wanted to keep him on tenterhooks a little longer.

Joel grin mischievously “It seems like I guessed right”

You roll your eyes and reluctantly admit "yes"

Joel pinches your side “good. you know they’re my favorites”

You jump on the bench “stop it, you know I hate it when you do that” but giggling more than you want.

The seductive power this man has over you is incomparable to any other man you have ever had.

He goes silent and you can clearly see his eyes turning darker and him licking his lips as he keeps cutting the steak.

You know he’s waiting.

You take a few forkfuls of your salad, chew, and wipe your mouth carefully with your napkin. You do it all very slowly as Joel begins to fidget on the bench. He’s impatient, you can tell even though he’s not vocal.

You try to hide the little smile that appears on your mouth as you take a sip of wine from your glass but he notices. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just the way you can't contain yourself”

Joel taps his fingers on the table as if he had been waiting for years, he always does it when he is nervous. It is an involuntary movement that you have learned to observe over the years, you have become an expert because when he closes himself in his silence it takes all your patience to make him speak. From these small movements you can already imagine what he will say and how he feels.

He comes closer to your ear again and whispers, “You look like you want to eat that salad more than you want me to eat you.”

And then he runs his fingers up the hem of your dress and slides them underneath, over your thigh, slowly, sending shivers down your spine, higher and higher until he reaches the lace of your panties and barely touches them.

You grab his arm and pull his hand away for fear that someone might see you but now it's your turn to fidget on the bench, his warm, deep voice went straight to your pussy and his fingers are all you crave.

He knows your weaknesses as you know his.

And he knows perfectly well that this little game makes you wet and how much you like it when he eats you out.

You can’t wait a minute longer so you look him in the eyes biting your bottom lip and say “Bathroom, now”

Usually you wait until you get home but right now you would kiss him obscenely here in front of everyone, tearing his clothes off.

You get up to go to the bathroom and slip into the ladies' one.

You check that all the stalls are empty and wait with your heart beating like crazy as if it wanted to come out of your chest.

He comes in a couple of minutes later “so you couldn’t wait until we got home?”

You don’t even answer him, you grab him by the collar of his shirt and push him against the wall, taking his lips as if it were the last thing you do. You push your way into his mouth meeting his tongue and intertwining it with yours, you are devouring him and you feel like you could never get enough. His lips are soft and wet on yours, his warm tongue greedily licking your palate. Your hands feverishly search for his ass, filling your hands and squeezing it tightly.

“Hey, baby, calm down” you must have been really impetuous to make him say something like that.

“I want you so bad” you sigh on his lips staring at him “Joel, please”

He takes your hands and kisses your fingers one by one without losing sight of your gaze for a second.

“Do you want me to do it here, kitten?”

“Yes, yes please, eat me Joel, right now” you whimper.

He gives you a sly smile and pushes you into one of the stalls.

He makes you lean against the divider and slips his hand under your dress.

He graze at your panties with his fingertips “mmh, already soaked for me, babe.”

He traces a line of kisses along your jawline and on your neck, wet and sloppy, licking at your heated skin and pushing his body against yours.

You can clearly feel his hard cock on your thigh as he brings a hand to your breast squeezing it while he doesn't stop moving his fingers on your soaking panties.

You whine in anticipation like a dog in heat, you just can’t take anymore of his teasing, he’s driving you wild.

“Joel, please” you mutter desperately.

You feel his smile widening on your skin “alright, honey, I’m going to give you what you need”

He kneels down in front of you and lifts your dress up to your waist, you hold it tight with one hand without taking your eyes off him. He pulls your panties aside and you see his excited grin “God, baby, she’s begging to be licked, isn’t she?” his hand holds your hip, squeezing it, you feel his fingers digging into your flesh, just above the edge of your panties.

He comes closer and sticks out his tongue licking from bottom to top and then swirling it on your clit.

He stops and looks up at you “tell me again how much you want it”

You don't answer him right away, you grab his hair and slam him against your pussy "that's how much I want it” you pant “please"

The vibration of his laughter shakes your core, reverberates on your skin and tingles your clit.

He kisses your folds softly and then parts them with two fingers and starts licking your clit like a hungry man. He is devouring you, his tongue deep in your pussy, his beard scratching you lightly, you feel your body quiver with his every touch.

He tease your hole with just one finger and you cry again “More, please, more”

“Fuck, you are insatiable tonight” he says “and you taste so sweet, babe, so incredibly sweet.”

The image of him on his knees devouring you is something incredible, you look down at his glistening mouth and chin and his eyes so hypnotic are looking at you so voraciously, you think you could come just by looking at him like this but you know he can give you even more “Joel, please”

“I know baby, I know, I’m right here with you”

He inserts two fingers into your hole, you're so wet they slide easily inside you, he curls them and searches for that special spot while he suck your clit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around. His fingers are inside you throughly, you feel them stretching you out just right.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling it lightly “God, you’re so good”

You feel the tips of his fingers caressing you softly, over and over again until you can't hold back anymore.

“I’m coming, fuck, i’m coming- Joel”

“I can feel it, babe, give it to me. Give it all to me”

His tongue moves over your clit, quickly tickling it, faster and faster.

You don't care where you are and whether someone might find out, the only thing you feel is a warmth growing inside you from your tummy to your chest, he’s still licking and pumping inside you when you gush all over his fingers and his mouth.

You bite your lip to muffle your cries, he keeps licking you until you calm down.

He looks up at you and you see your pleasure all over his face and chin, glistening his scruff.

“mmmh, thank you babe, this has been amazing” you whisper softly.

“for you this and more baby, and you know how much I love your pussy, I can never get enough of tasting her”

He stands up and kisses you, you taste yourself on his tongue and it's the best feeling in the world.

“The sweetest pussy for the sweetest woman” he mutter

“I love you, Joel, so much”

He smiles softly “I love you too, kitty” and he kisses you again nibbling gently on your lower lip.

“Now let’s get out of here before someone finds us” He slap your ass playfully as you exit the stall trying to fix your panties and your dress.

“Joel!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist your delicious ass”

You look at him sternly and then burst out laughing.

You pass him a paper towel. “Fix your face, will you?”

He wipes his face smiling.

“Come on, let's go home, I want to give you something special too"

#joel miller #fanfic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us #one shot #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #guess #joel miller x f!reader #joel x reader #charli xcx #billie eilish

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meowkn · 10 months ago

Text

Sweet lies and nectarines

Choso x reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Angst, semi-enemies to lovers, a lot of feelings, normal au ,smut, lots of analogies 💀

Tags: fem reader, angsty, fluff, cunnilingus, aftercare,

Unkept promises, revelations, discarded feelings, buried secrets in skin. You and Choso were two sides of the same coin. You could never truly be rid of him, there’s always that one thing that will bring you to him, physically or just in memory. You tried to fight the memories, but how could you fight when you’re on the same side? How could you fight when the one you’re supposed to fight is beside you, or rather, in your heart.

Rather than being cool for the summer, you were back in your hometown, soaking up the wind. Words fell from your old friends mouths as they welcomed you back into the town you grew out of. The charming smile you wore as they grabbed your arms and dragged you towards the small party on the beach, had them all fooled, but that didn’t matter as your toes touched the warm sand of the beach.

There was one face that wasn’t pleased to see you back in town, Choso caught sight of your red bikini, compared to the dull colors of everyone else around, the colors that poured out of you were like sun on a dark day. You caught his eye and yet he didn’t smile or even come over to welcome you back in town, after all these years. He looks disgusted, his long, dark hair blowing in the warm wind. He turned on his heel and left the wall he was leaning on. You watched him as he left, your heart throbbing in your chest, the anger boiling in your veins as you watched the man who swore by you only years ago, look at you with such acrimony and bitterness. Those feelings were quickly drowned out by the feeling of wet, cold hands wrapping around your waist and picking you up. You were tossed into the cold water, your friends giggling as they watched your eyes widen. “Welcome back home!” They all squealed as they joined you in the water. The taste of the saltwater filling your lungs was a much different taste to the air you had grown accustomed to in the city, a taste of who you were, a taste of the memories you buried deep down.

You choked on the water.

You gasped as you came up for air, your hair clinging to your wet face. Your friends were giggling and splashing each other, not noticing your disdain for this whole day, and if this is your first day in this town, god, your summer is fucked.

You could hear your friends gossiping and you swam over to join them, to hear the latest things going on in this old town. A lot has changed, the town you used to be so familiar with has changed, but you know the town hasn’t changed, it’s the people that have. Nothing in the gossip and rumors stick out to you, except for one thing, you hear Choso’s name and you pipe up almost involuntarily. “Wait, what happened with Choso?” You ask, your voice silencing the sound of overlapping gossip.

Your friends stare at you with wide eyes, like deers caught in headlights.

“Someone said they saw him hooking up with a girl at the cove.” One of them speaks up.

They all know your history with him, how close you two were, before the incident.

You can feel your heart in your throat.

Thump

It’s deathly silent, the sound of the seagulls squawking in the distance pulls you out of your head.

“Good for him.” You say, flashing that charming smile that you’ve perfected so well.

“I should get home, I need to finish unpacking my suitcase.”

You leave the water, your friends watching as you dry off with your towel, quietly whispering to each other, whispers they probably don’t want you to hear, yet you hear them anyway.

You pull your shorts on over your bikini and slip into your sandals.

The taste of the saltwater stained your mouth as you walked off the beach and onto the streets, greeting merchants who claimed they remembered you and told you that you’ve grown up so much.

You walked until you forgot where you were going, you walked until you came across a familiar pair of black boots.

You looked up and were greeted by the same scowl that you saw earlier, yet somehow filled with more disdain. His eyes drank you in, your wet hair, the water droplets glistening on your skin, the leather jacket thrown over your bikini, and the way your legs were longer than he remembered.

“What are you doing back here?”

The tone of his voice made you forget any jealousy and sadness you felt and filled you with the resentment you’d become oh so familiar with feeling.

“Am I not allowed here?”

He scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he looked you up and down again, you were vibrant, almost nauseatingly so to Choso, the dull colors of the town so much less appealing to him now that he sees you.

“You’ve clearly changed.” He says, his voice low as if he’s whispering.

It’s true, you no longer fit into this town, not that you think that the city changed you, but you were definitely shaped into a different woman now. You were someone people of the town would called ‘pretentious’. But is it really so pretentious to want more for yourself? To escape the life that had caused you so much grief?

“So have you. I never would’ve expected you to be the playboy type.” You say, it came out more bitter than you would’ve liked.

His dark eyes shot up at you, his lips forming a tight line. He hated the way you looked so smug while saying that, he hated knowing that the smug smile was fake.

He hated the way he knew you didn’t mean it.

“I never wanted to see your face again.” He says harshly, his tone sending chills down your spine. You freeze, your hands clenching at your side.

You take a deep breath.

“I’m surprised you can see anything with your head up your ass.”

Choso looks you in the eyes, with that same, piercing look that he gave you the day you left. He turns around and walks away, not offering you anymore rage fuel or acknowledgment. You stare at the empty space he was just standing, the smell of his cologne still lingering. You wanted him to come back and flood you in the scent, the warm scent of nutmeg and smoke overwhelming your senses.

You wanted to scream at him.

You wanted him to see you.

You wanted him to know you.

You wanted to make him cry.

You wanted to tell him you still loved him.

The two of you were like a hungry dog and a t-bone steak only slightly out of reach, there was something to be had but you couldn’t have it. It hurt.

Though, it wasn’t the memories that hurt, not the love, but the attachment that hurt. It is the expectation that hurts. The imagined future that is now broken, that hurts.

These thoughts ran through your mind as you walked to your house, your old childhood home, the one that is so familiar yet so forgotten. You’re house sitting for your mom while shes on a vacation.

The water ran down your back as you scrubbed away the sand, the saltwater, the unrelenting thoughts.

The bathroom was smaller than you remembered it being, the mirror still having that same crack you put it in when you were younger, you dried off in that mirror, watching through the fog as your hair clings to your face.

Your bedroom composed of clutter and memories you forgot, is the only room in the house that hasn’t been touched. You run your fingers over the dusty picture frames, the reflection of you in your towel falling onto them. You inspected the posters of your favorite movies, bands, and celebrities before settling down on the desk chair and going through your old cds.

You bite your lip as you come across the the cd you burned with Choso, running your fingers over the dust covered case, the polaroids taped onto it. You set it down on your desk before getting up to get dressed.

You let yourself be convinced to head to the cove tonight for a party, your friends saying that this is your first night back in town, you can’t spend it being locked inside. You regret ever making friends like them.

You meticulously put on your lipstick, the cherry shade you’ve been using since highschool.

You slipped into the one dress you brought and threw your jacket over it.

You walked over to the cove, the one place that hasn’t changed, guys endlessly flirting with girls, the sight of red solo cups scattered everywhere and some sort of dirt on the ground. You grab a cup and head over to where your friends are flirting with men who’s egos are nearly suffocating.

You let them talk you into drinking until you got a headache, you made up a weak excuse to leave and stumbled out of the cove, avoiding all of the guys who offered to take you home. You walked along the street back to your house, still drinking from your cup, your steps unsteady and lazy.

You took a step with one foot then another with the other, almost as if you were walking on a tightrope, giggling and talking to yourself as you walked. The street lights illuminating you like a spotlight.

You tossed your cup into the grass, taking off your jacket as you continue to walk, letting the chilled summer night air kiss your skin. You slip your shoes off and carry them in your hands, the platforms hurting your feet. The concrete scratched at your feet.

A car light followed behind you slowly, pulling up beside you, driving slowly, you could hear a voice calling out to you, but it was hazy and distant, you kept walking.

“Are you listening to me?” Choso’s voice rings out in your ears, you pause, looking at the car that know has the window rolled down, a confused and agitated Choso in the drivers seat.

“What are you doing out so late?”

Your heart jumped in your chest as his face filled your vision, the drinks in your body making your stomach churn as you came up with a response. “What’s it to you?” You retort, looking away from his car as you continued to walk, your steps slowly turning into stumbles. You can’t tell if you’re shaking because of Choso or because of the alcohol. He continues to drive slowly along side you. “Let me take you home. You’ve clearly had one too many.” He says in the snarky, condescending tone you’ve become so familiar with from him. You don’t respond as you continue to walk, closing your eyes and trying to drown out the sound of his music playing in the radio.

“Get into the car.” Choso says, slamming his foot on the brakes of his 1983 Volkswagen Jetta, the engine squealing.

“You either get in or I’ll get out and throw you inside.”

You open your eyes and turn to look at him through the car window, you stop walking. The look of annoyance on his face would be amusing if you weren’t so tired. He leans over the passenger seat and opens the door, gesturing for you to get in and sit down. You slowly get into the car, closing the door behind you before buckling up.

His car was clean and smelt of leather.

He let out an annoyed sound as he started driving again. “What are you doing out so late?” He asks again, glancing at you from the side of his eye.

“I thought you never wanted to see my face again?” You ask, ignoring his question as you lean against the passenger door, the cool glass of the window touching your skin.

He goes silent, the only sound in the car is the radio. Choso would never admit to you that he wants to make sure your safe, that he missed seeing your face, that he missed your glow and aura in this empty town. That would insinuate that there’s still feelings there. His hands tighten over the steering wheel. “Do you always have to be so difficult?” He rasps, trying to contain his emotions as he turns his eyes back towards the road.

You glances at him from the corner of your eye, his black hair in his face, the way his eyelashes flutter over his big, pretty eyes makes your heart throb. “I didn’t ask for you to take me home.” You say, looking out the window, though if you would’ve looked at him a bit longer you would’ve made eye contact.

Choso stares at you, almost analyzing you. He wants to be in your mind, like he use to be. He drives in silence for a while, tapping along to the best of the song playing in the background. Choso used to understand you, he used to be the person you ran to when you needed solace. He watched as you tucked your hair behind your ear, your gaze trained on the passing landscape. You were still so pretty, so beautiful. You were so close to him yet so far away.

“You can at least be thankful.” He says, turning his gaze back towards the road, biting on the inside of his cheek as he bit down all the words he really wanted to say to you, all the whys, all the what ifs, all the unkept secrets and promises to each other, he wanted to talk about all of it.

The streetlights illuminate the car as he turns down the music, the sound of grasshoppers and fireflies fill your ears as you peak at him, his eyes focused on the road, so many thoughts running through his head yet you can’t seem to identify one. Your hands clenched onto the heels in your lap. So many feelings left unspoken.

For a while the two of you just drive in silence, until you turn onto the street your house resides on.

“So, how have you been?” You ask him, your heart pounding in your chest. You want to have a conversation with him that’s not filled with resentment and regret, but it’s hard to start.

He glances at you, an eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been doing as well as I can.” He says, brushing his bangs out of his face as he leans his head back. “I’m surprised you care to even ask.”

Of course you care.

“Of course I care.”

“Just because I left doesn’t mean I ever stopped caring.”

Choso snorts, shaking his head as he pulls into your driveway before putting the car in park and turning to face you.

“You didn’t just leave.”

Your face scrunches up, you know it’s true, you *didn’t* just leave. You left and destroyed everything before you fled the scene. You destroyed him like you are.

You could feel the memories snowing down onto you, the feelings you buried deep down.

“That’s not fair, Choso.” You say, unbuckling your seatbelt, trying to keep your composure.

“It wasn’t fair when you left me.” He snaps, his fist tightening over the steering wheel. “It wasn’t fair when you told me that you hated me, it wasn’t fair when you cried in my arms, it wasn’t fair when you tore out my heart and stepped on it.” He continues, trying not to raise his voice as he keeps his eyes trained ahead, not wanting to look at you. He fears if he sees the emotion on your face he’ll break.

You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a croak, your eyes wide as you process his words. Your eyes burn as you try to come up with an appropriate response that’s not a weak apology.

"Do you think it was easy for me to leave you? That it was a fun walk in the park?" You say, looking up at him, unshed tears glistening in your eyes. Your heart is beating so fast it could be mistaken as the beat to a rock song. Your voice breaks as you speak up again. "No, it wasn't. It was gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. It made me hate myself for how much it hurt you. But I had to do it for my own sake.” Your head was spinning and you felt sick. Confronting all of the feelings you buried deep down inside of you at once was not a good feeling.

“Do you know how incredibly selfish you sound right now?” Choso barked at you, his eyes drilling into you. The ones that used to hold so much love for you now filled with coldness and hurt.

His voice lingers in the air of the car, like humid air that hasn’t move for days. His words stick to your skin, filth you can’t wash away.

"Yes, I do." You whisper, blinking back crystal tears, the salty taste of the ocean coming back to your mouth but it’s no longer saltwater. "I was being selfish. I know how selfish I was when I left you and how much it hurt you. But I still had to do it. To save myself."

You wish you could go back, back to when you were walking home alone, giggling to yourself without a thought in the world. Now your feelings are pouring out and you can’t stop them.

“So you fled instead of facing your issues? We were supposed to be a team, Y/n.“

"I couldn't face my issues with you!

"You didn't understand at all, you just kept pushing me away and shutting yourself off from me. You wouldn't talk to me or open up to me, no matter how much I tried to reach out. How was I supposed to face my issues when I couldn't get any help from you?"

The silence rings out in the car, the sound of crickets almost like a dog whistle in your ear. Choso looks away from you, settling back against his seat, running his fingers through his hair. The anger and tension melts away and leaves a deep sadness and yearning between the two of you. You could smell the sorrow on his breath, and feel the heartbreak in the distance between us. It was almost tangible, it was as if you were both on the verge of breaking down.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, your voice breaking the deafening silence.

You wanted to reach out and touch him, make him look at you, see you for once. You wanted him to tell you everything was alright, that you didn’t do anything wrong. You wanted him to place his hand on your cheek and wipe away your tears like he used to.

“You should get inside, it’s late.”

His voice broke your thoughts, he was sending you away. You couldn’t let him send you away. Your head was pounding, stomach stirring, your emotions at a new high.

Your hand reaches out and cups his cheek, you can see his look of shock and confusion. You feel just as shocked, you have no clue what you’re doing all you know is that you can’t stop.

“I want to stay here with you.”

Choso looks at you, you can tell he’s confused, the emotions flickering through his eyes. You notice the way his ears turn pink and the way he tries to divert his eyes but they always wound up back on you.

Your hand gently caresses his cheek, tracing over the hairs that fell in his face.

“I can’t stay away from you.” You whisper, your voice soft in the space of the car. You can hear his heart beating, or maybe it’s yours. You hear him swallow and his gaze falls from your eyes.

Choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes and lips, watching every time you bite your lip or speak. He wanted to wipe that eyelash off your cheek. He could hear you speaking but he couldn’t understand your words before your lips planted on his, the sensation catching him off guard, the warmness wrapping him up like a blanket. You were sweet like nectarines but tart like cherries. He could feel his thoughts blur as his eyes fell closed as he returns your kiss.

Your hand fell from his cheek as you pulled away, your breath coming out in small gasps. You could feel the sting of his lips on yours, you wanted more, your body begged for more of his lips, more of him.

You could see his eyes open and the way he’s looking at you, no longer in confusion and shock but instead with indecision. The tension that was previously in the car coming back in another form.

Your words fell from your lips as you scrambled to say something, anything to get him to stop looking at you like that with those eyes that hold all the beautiful poems behind their pupils. You wanted him to look at you but not like that, not like he would drop everything if you asked.

“I know what I did wasn’t fair but I-“

“Will you shut up for one second?” His voice interrupts you, his hand on the back of your neck, and your wondering how it got there. He’s a lot closer than he was fifteen seconds ago.

He kisses you, he kisses you with all the power he could muster, making up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, seconds your lips hadn’t been touching. You could feel the kiss burning into you as his fingers curled around your neck, pulling you closer to him. Your heart is missing beats and your hands are moving faster than your mind. You taste him and realize you have been hungry.

You felt like you were losing your mind. Did people lose their minds when they loved someone?

You could taste the memories on his lips, the way the secrets resurfaced when your tongues brushed together. Your lips spoke of promises and unspoken words.

Your hand found his shoulder and dug into the flesh, you could feel his breath catch against your lips as he pulled you closer.

He wanted to pull you out of the seat, pull you into his and have you in his grasp, the heat of your body against his. You can feel your heart becoming liquid as he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips so he could slip it in your mouth. His hand slid down your neck and rested on your back, with slow tenderness that was soothing to you.

He pulls away leaving you with airy breaths and pants, his voice is raspy and soft as he speaks, his fingers a gentle breeze over the fabric of your dress.

“I want you, your lips, your bones, your body heat, the scars you leave. I want to see how beautiful those eyes look beneath me.”

How could someone who was filled with resentment for you say something as beautiful as that? You wonder if he ever truly resented you or if he just wanted to resent you. Love and hate are the same, no?

Your fingers dug deeper into his shoulder, your lips meeting his again, the tenderness gone and instead a passion fills it’s spot.

“I want you to say my name like it’s a prayer.” He rasps against your lips, his hands finding the small of your back as your breath hitches in your throat. Your heartbeat so loud that you fear you’ll wake your neighbors up.

“Please don’t run away again.” He sounded so desperate, it was beguiling, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you and that was the part that scared you. There were so many feelings and thoughts flooding the car you were sure you were going to drown in it all.

“I won’t.” You whisper, your words punctuated with kisses to his cheeks, your lips a caress against his jawline. Your lips trace light kisses against his jaw, along his collarbone. Your breaths mingle and your hearts beat in the same rhythm.

One second your in his arms pressed against your front door than the next you’re in your bed, his body overtop of yours. His hair messily falling into his face as he places kisses down your neck, his calloused fingers slowly tracing down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The taste of his tongue lingers in your mouth as he plants kisses all over your skin like seeds, it feels like the start of forever, goodbye to the past.

“I forgot how fun you are to kiss.” He mumbles against your skin, kissing down your bare stomach.

“Is this okay?” He asked, looking up at you from his position between your legs. You nod and brush the hair out of his face so it’s no longer obstructed. You watched as he slowly moved your panties to the side, his fingers brushing over your cunt. His tongue tasted you, swirling around the soft flesh of your thighs before finally tasting your clit. He’s gentle with you, squeezing your hand as his tongue lapped around your clit, licking and kissing your cunt.

Your soft moans and whines filled the room as he teased your pussy, your nerves are on fire and your head feels light, but it feels so good. It’s as he knew how hungry you were for him and he was giving you bits and crumbs before giving himself to you.

He’s nose deep in your pussy, both of his arms hooked around your thighs. Your legs feel limp as he tastes and drinks you up. Your hand is lost in his hair, gripping to it like it’s the only thing holding you together. You can feel your body twitching as his tongue moves inside of you. He moaned against your cunt like he was the one getting fucked. Your back arches from the vibrations coursing through your body.

He pulls away from you clit and gives your inner thigh a gentle kiss and bite, earning a whimper from you, your body shivering on the mattress.

He moved up so his lips could meet yours again in a soft kiss, his hands feeling up your body, tracing the curves and lines. His eyes gaze down at you as he aligns his hips with yours, his body pressing against every inch of you.

You wanted him, you wanted more of him, you were touching him, but you weren’t really touching him. You needed to feel him. Your hands sink into his fine black hair, tugging him closer, he grunts, pulling away from your lips with a small awed expression.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers. “You’ve always been so pretty.”

Your body ached with need, you could feel the arousal building up inside of you as you pressed yourself harder against him.

He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them off with one swift movement, the sound of the pants hitting the floor ringed through your ears as you took in the sight before you.

You suck in a breath while he sucks on your neck, leaving unforgiving hickeys. Even while his lips were planted on your neck his eyes remained on yours, watching as they fluttered every time he touched a sensitive spot.

Your pants and breaths filled the room as you felt his arousal against yours, your skin was hot, scorching as he painted his emotions onto your body. You anticipated his every move. You watched him pull down his boxers and tease your entrance with his tip, you could feel every twitch and throb that went through his body.

He lifted your hips as he pushed inside of you, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your fingers dug into his shoulder.

“I still haven’t forgiven you.” He whispers in a sultry rasp as he thrusts his full length inside of you, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Fuck me like you hate me then.” You whisper, your finger tracing down his chest softly. You bit down on your lip as his words echoed through your brain. Forgiveness was the last thing on your mind right now, all you could think about was him, as long as you had him in your grasp you didn’t mind.

“I do hate you.” He whispers, kissing your lips as he thrusts deeper into you, his fingertips lightly gracing your skin like you’re the finest prophet chosen by the sun herself.

There were no more words to be said, you spoke in tongues, fingertips, and soft touches.

Your moans echoed through his brain, his movements filled with an undying passion and starvation, a hunger for the person he once loved. His body blurred into yours as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer into your body. Your nails scratching at his skin.

His face buried in the crook of your neck as he rut into you, kissing your soft skin. You’re a heap of moans and sweat and tears as he thrusts harder into you, his pants filling your ears. You feel nauseatingly alive and warm.

He fucked you hard, his hands tightening around your body to hold you still. He worshiped you with his hate, broken moans escaping your lips every time his hips slammed against yours.

Your body twitched against his, your stomach burned with an overwhelming sensation as he hits your sweet spot. You felt like you were drowning again, drowning in him, in the feelings, memories, sensations. You let out one last whine and whimper as he thrusts into you, your body giving into it all, twitching and tightening around him. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you as he came, his low whimpers filling your ears as his head fell next to yours.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his hand cupping your cheek. He gazed into your glazed over eyes, watching the emotions run through them as you came down from the high, your body twitching.

“Mhm.” You mumble, you could barley feel your legs and the hunger you once had was satisfied, but there was something left in your heart.

He touched you with a kiss before moving off of you and laying on his side.

He was so beautiful, the way the tiredness filled his half lidded eyes and the way his hair clings to his sweat covered forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He whispers as he sits you up on the bed before picking you you up in your arms. It’s almost scary how well he knows your house, the memories of the two of you hanging out here fills your mind as he sets you on the toilet seat while he starts the shower.

He helps you in and helps you scrub off all the filth on your body, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he washes your hair, making sure to be gentle with each delicate strand. He washed you and with every sud that ran down the drain, evidence for a love that transcends hunger appeared.

He washed your face and laid you down in bed, holding you tight against him until you fell asleep. Everything in this town was so much brighter with you.

That morning you woke up to cold sheets and stupid hopes.

#choso kamo #choso #choso x you #choso x reader #jjk choso #jjk x y/n #jjk #choso smut #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso angst #choso fic #i love him #jjk angst #angst #jjk fluff #sweet lies and nectarines

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untilwedont · 1 year ago

Text

Paranormal Love

pairings: Colby Brock x Male!Reader

rq: Do you mind doing A Colby Brock x Male Reader Social Media Au !! (any Fc) , Where Colby And Y/N Were there both ghost Hunters And people have suspected they got together after the conjuring video

a/n: ive never done one of these so I have no idea what im doing

fc: jackson passaglia

——————

YourInstagram

Liked by ColbyBrock, jakewebber9, and 974,223 others

YourInstagram going to a very haunted place with these very awesome people 😎 (im scared)

view all 11,241 comments

mnballz m/n ghosthunter confirmed ❗️

oliviarodrigo ur gonna get possessed

YourInstagram dont jinx it 😰

mnsleftnut since when did they know each other??!

YourInstagram since two months ago 💀

larray white people doing stupid shit again 😒 (jk love u)

YourInstagram

Liked by Colby Brock, mnsboojina, and 845,103 others

YourInstagram now why the hell did i just find these on my photo gallery.. 💀 don’t let colby steal ur phone

view all 9,453 comments

ColbyBrock i gotta say, i took some pretty fire photos 🤷‍♂️

YourInstagram me when i lie

SamGolbach if u think thats bad, you should see my camera roll 😭

mndaily follow me if u want daily updates about m/n 🫶

princessqueen imagine if they dated 👀

Solbyshipper i dont ship it

princessqueen i do

ColbyBrock via Instagram story

Colbydaily

Liked by mndaily, prxppygxrl12, and 5,203 others

Colbydaily a potential head or is it just the lighting? (From colbys instagramn story)

view all 203 comments

hannisbias i think its another head but i could be wrong

solbyshipper its sam

pecanlover girl bye thats not sam

mndaily could it be mn 👀👀

Leesmonston thats like a really low chance

Xlilxc1 but its never not a chance

ColbyBrock

Liked by YourInstagram, SamGolbach, and 512,093 others

ColbyBrock hike with @YourInstagram 😎

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YourInstagram it was cold and I almost broke a leg

ColbyBrock and luckily I caught you

mvarksworld did anyone notice how close they got during the conjuring video? like anyone?

Princessqueen yeah did u see the way mn clung onto him the whole time 😭

Spicyforurheart honestly *ship name* doesn’t sound too bad 👀

toosupershy i see the vision

YourInstagram via instagram story

mndaily

Liked by YourInstagram, mnsleftnut, and 4,045 others

mndaily from mns instagram story. who is this mysterious hand? perhaps colby brock? 👀👀

view all 233 comments

mnsleftnut wait they didn’t confirmed anything between them yet did they?

mndaily no, but m/n liked so this could confirm something?

princessqueen I can surprisingly see them together.. anyone else?

mnismyman i think they got together

princessqueen same

hkitty999 theyd be a power couple can they just confirmed it already.

#male reader #gay #malereader #male!reader #colby brock #colby brock x male reader #colby brock fic #colby brock imagine

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kkolg · 3 months ago

Note

Hi there! I recently was recommend your Abyss animatic on YouTube and was like… whoa…. WHAT IS THIS I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THIS AU‼️I’ve been scrolling through your tumbler for several days just soaking in everything about The New Dawn and I was curios what’s happening in this world. are they in an apocalypse of some sort? Either I didn’t scroll far enough on your Tumbler to know more or you just haven’t revealed yet 💀 . Don’t spill anything you don’t want to, I am here for it all.

Trust me you are NOT ALONE 😭😭, I probably should’ve mentioned that I’m super bad at writing down my thoughts when it comes to storytelling in general BUT IM HERE TO CLEAR THINGS UP NOW I SWEAR‼️‼️ The New Dawn AU summary will be under the cut as it might be a bit long lol ANYWAYS THANKS FOR BEING SO INTERESTED IN THE STORY THAT YOU ASKED AND I APOLOGIZE FOR ALL THE CONFUSION 🙏🧎‍♀️also disclaimer because I’m writing this before the season finale some things may change to be in further line with the show which is another reason I didn’t write out the story before BUT ANYWAYS ENJOY‼️‼️

So basically after the events of the show N and Uzi defeat the solver with the power of friendship (also V’s back idk) and they go back to outpost 3 and are like “YIPEEEE WEVE FINALLY DEFEATED THE ABSOLUTE SOLVER WITH THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP ALSO DO I HEAR A SONG COMING ON???” And then they all start dancing and Uzi is essentially the new leader of the colony (if you couldn’t tell this part of the story is not that important but you can interpret what I said here as fully cannon in the au if you want lol)

Not too long after that N is like “hey can we try to like reform the disassembly drones and let them into the colony?” And Uzis like “wait that’s an amazing idea” and then they make out but that’s not important- so they go out and start telling all the disassemblys they can find that the solver is gone and can’t spread anymore and that living with the workers is actually pretty lit. A good lot of them are like “woah I didn’t know you were chill like that” and most of them go to live in outpost 3, a few of them are skeptical and still wanna eat workers so not all of the disassembly are chill but most of them are.

While doing this they come across a disassembly drone named A and he’s like “sure I’ll join” and he does…..but he’s not a very cool guy- I plan to make a comic about this so I’m gonna be vague and just say turns out he’s insane and N basically exiled him from the colony.

Fast forward like a month from that incident and Kim is created, finally, and the Doorman’s live happily ever af- WRONG turns out A ganged up with all of the other mean disassembly drones and try’s to just OBLITERATE the colony during a raid and whoopdeedo Thad dies but I’ll make a comic about that later so I won’t get too detailed. OH YEAH KIM IS ALSO ABSOLUTELY TRAUMATIZED SO THATS GREAT-

Fast forward a few years and now we’re in the current time of where most of my comics/drawings take place. Kim is older and looks in the forbidden trauma closet that N and Uzi said never to look in but rebellious child I guess, and he finds stuff about the solver. Getting curious he pulls an Uzi to leave the colony and try to find out what the fuck this thing is and OH NO X JUMPSCARE, again another thing I’ll probably make a comic about but they fight, X says that a certain guy she knows might know about the solver thingy, they become buddies, C-1 is also there- weird visions start to make Kim have a robot seizures, and that’s kinda where we’re at rn

I hope this cleared up a lot of questions you guys may have had and I’ll be adding a link to this post on my pinned in case you ever need to refer back to this‼️‼️

anyways byeeeeeee

#k’s rants #ask #murder drones #md au #md oc #the new dawn au #oc: kimber #md au lore #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi fankid

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calibabii21 · 10 months ago

Text

|| i never thought || l.hc

pairing: sub!haechan x dom!reader

genre: smut, non-idol au, friends to lovers, Christmas bet

warning(s): bratty sub!haechan, reader learns she has a dominant side, reader is kind of a sadist, both haechan and reader are masochists, overstimulation (m), dirty talk, sexual threats and innuendos, haechan may let "mommy" slip..several times, bdsm club

wc: 2.7k

a/n: suuuuch an honor to be a part of this collab with @jenoslutie this is for you boo💋. thank you so much for your patience and I hope you all enjoy😭 proofread?? not sure💀 mdni

"Come on pleeeease," yet again your friend was begging for the impossible. "That's not even the type of person I am! Not to mention I have to go shopping for Re- my Secret Santa.” Thankfully you caught yourself, “Besides, what could you possibly gain from this?" Funnily enough, that's all it took to quiet him. "N-Nothing," his flustered stutter and sheepish eye contact avoidance were a dead giveaway.

You couldn't help but give in to the cuteness, "Fine. but only if you don't leave my side" His eyes immediately brighten and he's on you with cheek kisses, "thank you thank you thank you– I would never abandon you at a place like that." His seriousness is endearing and you very much appreciate the sincerity in his tone. “Thank you Pookie.”

A twinkle flashes through his eyes at the pet name but he only smiles at you and agrees to give you time to get dressed seeing as he asked you to accompany him on such short notice.

About 45 minutes later you’re walking through the front entrance of the club he begged you to accompany him to. You look around the packed out place, taking in the world of kink you are freshly experiencing first-hand. “Wow.” Haechan turns to you, securing a rose gold wrist cuff, matching his, around your own.

“What is this for?” He gives you a sheepish look, seeming rather nervous now that you study his expression. “Hey, what’s wrong Pookie?” His tense stature relaxes and he allows himself to melt into your palm resting on his cheek. “Well aren’t you two a lovely pair,” someone comments as they pass by, “You’ve got a good, old-fashioned brat on your hands.” You understand the terms, and the bashful look on Haechan’s face stirs something in you.

A smirk finds its way to your lips, “You think so?” your eyes stay trained on Hyuck’s face as you speak, “But he’s always so good for me. And he treats me so well, don’t you baby boy?” The fake pout with a doe-like gaze you give him as you stroke his chin causes a submissive glaze to film over his eyes and a yearning whimper to leave him.

When you turn your back to him, he unconsciously moves his body into your space, “If you’ll excuse us, we’d like to get to the rest of our evening.” Haechan attaches a hand to your hip, guiding you away as you smile at the stranger. “You’re..handling yourself better than I expected.” His tone is full of satisfaction and pride, which in turn makes you roll your shoulders back and walk in pure confidence- naturally boosting his ego.

“You make it so easy Pookie.” His returning blush as you playfully pinch his butt makes you giggle. “You’re being awfully cute..” And quiet. Despite his unfamiliar behavior, you allow him to continue leading the way.

The chains and leather oddly complement the various Christmas themed rooms you pass. Maybe not something you’d have done yourself, but it works. Haechan squeezes your hand to get your attention, “We’re here.” You look up with a soft gasp and wide eyes, “Oh.” Definitely not something you were prepped for.

Here was a platform stage with a submissive straddling a metal chair. Arms bound to the top of the arch, ankles to the legs, nipples flush against the back- and cock between the bars. Seeing as you have goosebumps from simply walking through the establishment, you can only imagine how cold the half naked sub must be. Though their shivers could just be from the anticipation of their dom circling them.

Your eyes drift over to Haechan when his breath hitches as the submissive’s eyes are covered with a sleek blindfold. His responses are intriguingly physical. He isn’t the one being touched or tied up, yet his breathing is shaky and he’s sweating a bit. If you’re honest, it even has you heating up yourself.

The moment the dom ghosts their fingers over the sub’s semi erect cock is when you decide to maneuver behind Haechan. Your hands lightly reston his waist causing him to jump, startled. “It’s okay, it’s just me.” “Hyuck..I want you to keep your eyes on the stage, okay?” Your voice is soft as it reaches the back of his ear, “Just, stop me if you feel uncomfortable.” He immediately nods- almost in an eager manner.

A shocked yelp leaves the sub, quickly followed by a moan as they feel the contradicting warmth of their top’s breath on their chilled nipples. “Are you sensitive here too, Baby Boy?” It’s a rhetorical question but his whimpers as you brush your thumbs over his nipples through his shirt is answer enough. “Oh, you’re a vocal little thing aren’t you, Pookie?”

You continue toying with his nipples as your right hand drifts down his front, a sound of approval leaving you, “Sensitive too.” The subs loud moans drown out the whimpers and whines Haechan releases as you fondle him through his clothes. “Please.” His pleading simultaneous with the ones coming from the stage. “What are you asking for?”

He says nothing, enraptured by the scene of the sub’s painfully hard cock being edged between the cold, hard bar of the chair and the domme’s warm, soft palm. Pinching his nipple you get a louder moan as well as his attention, “If you can’t tell me what you want, I can’t give it to you.” He only whines, his knees becoming wobbly, “Please, touch me p-properly.”

You take your hands off of him and put space between you, “If you can find a private enough space, I’ll even let you cum.” That seemed to kick him into overdrive and he grabs your hand guiding directly to a private room with red carpeting and furniture. His only instruction is to sit as you point toward the lounge seat. “That was awfully fast. Now I wonder if it’s even worth a reward.”

You’re quiet as you slowly pace back and forth, thinking to yourself about this night. It all seems a little too calculated. You pause in front of him, more like you’re looming over him in your heels. You watch his eyes trail from the points of your shoes all the way up to meeting your eyes- and it’s easy to tell that his immediate response would have been to whimper, but he senses you waiting for any wrong move.

“Why did you bring me here?” Nothing. You get absolutely nothing but a diversion of eyes. His squirms increase under your scrutiny. “Haechan. I will touch you until this club closes and ruin your ability to cum for yourself or anyone else if you do not answer me. What. is going. on?” There’s only a mumble you don’t understand before he goes back to feigning innocence.

Fine. You opt for trying an approach he would be receptive of. Wordlessly, you remove his pants, giggling to yourself at his Christmas themed g-string. “Shut up” he mumbles sassily, which for some reason irked you more than it usually would. The sharp sting of his underwear elastic snapping against his skin has him both hissing and staring at you with needy eyes.

You maintain his eye contact, his own widening as your face gets closer to his when you straddle his lap- the fluffy trim of your sexy Mrs. Claus costume tickling his midsection. “If you don’t want to willingly tell me, I’ll get it out of you another way.” His eyes glow with amusement and desire as you glide your fingers beneath his waistband, “You can try all you want but I’m not giving i- mmm.”

That quickly shut him up, you again, giggle to yourself. “You act all big and bad but you’re so weak to pleasure your inner slut can’t help but submit. Even if it’s from your best friend, hm?” He bites his lip to hold his sounds back, but his chest is already heaving as if he’s close.

“Surely Mr. ‘Won’t-give-in’ isn't close already.” Your taunting seems to only spur him closer to climax. “You better not cum Donghyuck or so help me Go-” His head is thrown back, hips thrusting into your hand to fully ride out his orgasm, essentially sending your own body up with them- completely drowning out your words. Whimpering and whining as your hand applies pressure to his now sensitive dick.

He attempts to continue thrusting until your hand comes up to grip his face, body stilling save for the shiver that passes over him at the strong look in your eyes, “If you don’t stop fucking playing with me I will restrain you, tie a vibrator to your dick, stick one in your ass, and walk right out of that door.” Your threats seem to have the opposite effect as you feel him growing harder in your hand again.

Chuckles of disbelief leave you as you begin laughing hysterically, even that has his erection rising further. “My God.” Your faces are close, eyes searching his as your hand begins to move at a slow, steady pace. “You really are a perv aren’t you?” He whines loudly and looks at you pleadingly. “Lucky for you, so am I. Know that I intend to keep my word of ruining you for anyone else.”

Your hand does a 180, now jerking at a speed too incredible for him to keep up with, “That was your plan with me, wasn’t it?” In the middle of his second orgasm, his expression is one of shock at your words. “Fuuuuuck mommy- please please.” Your body heats up at the title and it honestly makes you feel even more powerful. His body is writhing and twitching beneath you as you don’t let up on stroking him. “If you give me one more, maybe I’ll think about stopping.”

“No no no no,” you aren’t too sure what he’s pleading about, but no way are you stopping now. “The club will be shutting down in about five minutes.” Right as you yell “Coming!” in response to the rough knock on the door, Haechan does the same but for completely different reasons. His hands grip your waist when you stop, his face still asking for more. “We have to go now Pookie, but I’ll take care of you when we get home.”

He assists you in cleaning up as you help redress, “You may have been a bit of a brat, but you were still a good boy for me. As a result, I'll let you decide what happens when we get home.” His eyes light up and his confidence immediately resurfaces, “Just know it’s my turn to ruin you for everyone.”

“Hyuck- wait slow dow-” you cut off your sentence with a gasp as you realize you slapped his face with a heavier hand than intended. There’s a moment of silence as you both process what just happened before he’s further backing you into your apartment- lips excitedly attacking your neck. “God you are so sexy.”

You get over your shock, your seductive chuckle reddening his ears, “What a pain slut you’ve turned out to be.” That only makes his hips rut against you as he licks your neck, not separating from you to gauge the direction of your bedroom. “Wait the bedroom’s that way.” He continues feeling you up beneath your costume, “Fuck the bedroom, you’re taking me right here.”

He bends you over the couch, slapping and groping your ass. “Who gave you permission to out-sexy my sexiest thoughts of you.” Your hips grind back on him as he presses his bulge firmly against your core, “How perverted can you be to get this hard over your best friend.” He begins softly rocking, thrusting his hips against yours, “And how greedy does your pussy have to be to grind on my clothed dick like a neglected whore.”

You don’t know why, but his words ignite deep arousal within you. “Just shut up and fuck me already.” He wordlessly pulls himself out of his tight confines and teases his head against your soft thong, “By the feel of your holes clenching through your panties, you wouldn’t even be patient enough for me to prep you.”

“What’s prep when you’re made for me.” You try to contain your laughter as your teasing words make his movements stutter. In the end a sharp slap is landed on your exposed ass with a gritted mutter, “Don’t go putting hopeful thoughts in my head.” Before you can decide whether to continue teasing him or reassure him, he’s easing into you with a stretch so delicious your first moan is drug out.

You’d expect his thrusts to be rapid and shallow with how desperate he’d been to be inside you, but it was the complete opposite. “Paced and deep, just the way you like it right?” His strokes really were perfect. Hips connecting with yours with the right amount of force. One hand caressing your skin while the other unexpectedly spreads your wetness around your unoccupied hole.

His hips come to a sudden stop as he leans over your back. “I-I want you to ride me.” Even through his effort to top you, you can feel that you still have the power. “Okay daddy, come sit.” You patiently wait during his awkward fumbling to circle the couch, but once you sink onto him you both moan in unison. “I must be doing my job with the way you’re squeezing around me. Am I making you feel good?”

“Mmhm, you’re doing such a good job baby.” His head is thrown back as he “guides” your ass to slam back down to meet his thrusts halfway. “I told you I was going to ruin you f-for everyone.” You take that opportunity to lay him flat on the couch, your hands using his chest for support, “It feels so good being stretched by you Hyuck.”

You lean forward now allowing your ass to fully bounce on him faster. “Fuck baby you take my cock so well. Who’s my good girl? Huh?” The second he asks, one of your hands reach forward and caresses his face as you keep bouncing, “It’s you isn’t it? You’re my good boy?” You seal it with a tender yet erotic kiss on his lips and he’s instantly whimpering and tightly gripping your flesh.

“I-I’m close.” But you ignore him and his attempts to thrust up into you as you continue controlling the pace, opting to switch to a slow whining of your hips. “P-Please, mommy. Mommy can I please cum?” A pleasant shudder passes through you at the besotted, fucked out expression he gives you as he begs, “Please PLEASE can I cum? Can I cum inside, please? Mommy I’m so close, please.”

His begs become more adamant and panicked as you clench around him with each circle of your hips, your own climax approaching. “You want to cum baby?” He immediately nods eagerly with hopeful eyes as his hands fervidly touch and grasp every inch of your body, “Please.” His whispered plea seems to be enough to satisfy you, “Can you be a good boy and fill me up?”

“Yes yes yes mommy, I can be a good boy. I’m your good boy.” His moans and cries are anything but quiet as he releases ropes of heat inside of you. Your teeth sink into his shoulder when your orgasm creeps through you as you grind harder onto him, “Oh Fuuuucck. Shit, yes Hyuck.”

There is a flurry of soft moans and breathing as you both come down from your high. Haechan looks at you enamored. “You are so..beautiful.” The compliment caught you off guard, but seeing the sincerity in his eyes you smile at him, “Thank you, Pookie. You are too. Truly.” You plant one last kiss on his lips before getting off of him to move to your bathroom.

He lets out a startling hoot and laughs in a victorious tone causing you to stop and face him. “The hell is so funny?” He turns to you with a cutely smug smirk, “I won.” You look at him incredulously, “Won?”

Now redressed, he approaches you with an air of arrogance, stopping in front of you, “I hit first. So I. won.”

You let his words sink in with silence before smirking at him, “Just remember I’m the one you call ‘mommy’.”

A blush brushes his features at your words as you walk off, “You’re my bitch now.”

tagging:

@thesafecafe

@atinystaypixie

@neoculturecollectives

@multifandomslxt

@haechansbbg

@lovncts

@mrkis

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aimedis · 3 months ago

Text

SPECIAL - DAVID & DARLIN' | WIP WEDNESDAY !!

teenage david & darlin' siblings au (+alive gabe lololol) | yes, this is a work in progress. i started it over a year ago and have been stopping and restarting for so long 💀 it was meant to be a multi-chapter fic (of around 15 chapters) and i never got past 4 😭😭

cw - darlin' angst, mentions of toxic relationships (quinn & darlin'), sibling arguments, teenagers doing teenager shit (sneaking out & getting drunk), lots of cursing and name-calling, no sam or any of the mates because of the high school setting

wc - 1.8k

David never really considered himself a rebellious child, and compared to his sibling and packmates, he really wasn’t. Then again, it wasn’t as if he'd never done things he wasn’t supposed to. But those things were spread out enough for him to blame it on teenage impulse.

At least he was self-aware.

But sneaking out was one thing he could never justify to himself or wanted to do in the first place.

Yet here he was. Sneaking out.

Asher got invited to this party a friend of a friend was hosting and was told to bring whoever he felt like. David and Milo were obviously the very first and only people he thought to invite. They were the only people he knew would come with him or at the very least not snitch on him.

The situation he was now in came back to his inability to say no to Asher. Surely this counts as peer pressure.

They were at Asher's house that Friday night, under the guise of a routine sleepover. They stayed until his parents fell asleep before sneaking out the front door and into Asher’s father’s car.

The whole car ride was quite uneventful, Asher and Milo having a conversation about something while David sat in the back trying to ignore the anxiety pooling in his stomach.

It had been all of twelve minutes after they’d arrived before Milo slipped one of those cliché red solo cups into his hand. David didn’t hesitate to down the whole thing.

He heard Asher and Milo laugh at him and felt the slap on his back when he was done.

David leaned back onto the couch with a small groan, barely audible amidst the noise of the music playing throughout the house. He could already feel the tension bleeding out of his body as the alcohol heated his body.

When he turned his head, Asher and Milo were already laughing while downing their drinks with their arms intertwined.

It was gonna be a long night.

────────

Of course, nothing in their life goes correctly.

Of course, the night after they broke up with Quinn would be an absolute shit show. They didn’t even care that he was showing up to this party, they just wanted him to stay on the other side of the house for the next five hours while they tried to forget about him.

But when does anything go their way?

They were just sitting on the couch on their phone waiting for a friend to come back when Quinn appeared in front of them, menacing aura and all. They had half a mind to ignore him but then he just had to start running his mouth.

They only really caught the comments on them being a traitor, a worthless dog and a disappointment to everyone who ever cared about them. The alcohol in their system was making their comprehension fuzzy.

They don’t remember what they said in response but by the look in Quinn’s cold undead eyes, it pissed him off. And that made them feel good.

Quinn kept yelling and yelling and Tank found themselves yelling back once again. They didn’t know if anyone else was paying attention to both of them and frankly, they didn’t care, if people wanted to watch how much of a clown Quinn was when he felt threatened, they could.

Tank enjoyed the feeling of being the only one to make Quinn lash out like this.

It was kind of special.

────────

David groans softly as he steps out of the house, the owner of which he didn’t even know, loud music pounding against its walls, not helping his budding headache.

He pulls out his phone and forces himself to call his Dad’s contact before he can talk himself out of it.

He knew this was a bad idea

You would think being the oldest and most level-headed teenager in the pack would make him resistant to Asher’s stupid ideas. But alas, he’s just a teenage boy who was bored on a Friday night with a social butterfly as a best friend.

Gabe picks up the phone, his voice groggy from sleep. “David?”

“Uhm, Dad?” David winces at how nervous he sounds.

“Something wrong, buddy? Are you boys alright?” He asks, worry starting to make itself apparent in his tone and David feels guilt building inside of him.

Yeah, this was a really bad idea.

“I-” He closed his eyes and inhaled a sharp breath as his vision blurred, “I’m really sorry in advance but I need you to pick me, Ash and Milo up.”

There was silence on the other line for a moment before Gabe spoke up again, “Okay.. why?”

David had to take a few deep breaths to calm the panicked feeling in his stomach before he could continue. “One of Ash’s friends was hosting a party at their house and the three of us snuck out of Ash’s house to go. Ash and Milo are both wasted and I’m not sober either so I called you. I’m really really sorry..”

The sigh of disappointment from his father made him wince.

“Send me the address, I’m on my way.”

David swallowed hard and nodded before realizing Gabe couldn’t see him. “Okay. Thank you.” He whispered back.

“Thank you for calling me, David.”

David didn’t say anything before Gabe hung up. He sent the house address quickly before he stepped back inside the house. Asher and Milo were in the same position they were in before he left, draped across each other on the couch giggling about absolutely nothing.

David collapses next to the both of them, “My Dad’s on his way.”

There was no reason for that to be funny, quite the opposite actually, but for some reason, Asher and Milo started laughing hysterically. David rolls his eyes, immediately regretting it because of how much worse it makes his headache, and buries his flushed face in his palms.

“It’s not even funny, I’m so dead,” Asher snickers into Milo’s side.

Milo replies with a cackle and David groans quietly.

This night could not get any worse.

────────

David had all but dragged Asher and Milo outside when his father had gotten there, stumbling a bit himself but he got the three of them to the car where his father was standing.

Asher and Milo’s obnoxious laughter stopped as soon as they saw their Alpha standing tall and pissed outside the house. David could’ve rolled his eyes at the way both of them hung their heads and mumbled a “sorry, Gabe”, climbing into the car with their figurative tails between their legs if he wasn’t scared shitless himself.

He avoids his father’s eye contact as he walks around to the passenger side after closing the door.

David expected his dad to enter the car after them and start the car and the lecture, but he looked up long enough to see him still standing against the car and watching the house. David was about to open his mouth and ask what he was doing when he saw Tank leaving the house as well and walking towards the car.

“Sovereigns above…” Gabe sighs heavily, leaning against the car in exasperation, “Are you kidding me?”

Tank huffs and opens the car door without looking at Gabe, “Yes, yes I know. You’re such a bad kid, you could’ve died and I wouldn’t know blah blah blah. I was gonna call you, promise.”

Gabe seems to roll his eyes as they get into the car, “Anyone else in there I should know about?”

No one in the car says anything so Gabe takes it as his turn to get in the car.

David turns in his seat to look at Tank putting their seatbelt on, “What are you doing here?”

They look over at him, raising an eyebrow, “I could ask you the same thing, Davey.” They spit the nickname out like a curse.

“Don’t call me that.” David’s look turns sour, “But I asked you first.”

“Parties aren’t exactly your scene, I think my question is more important.”

“You don’t have friends, who invited you?”

“Fuck you, I have more friends than you do Mr. Grinch-looking ass.”

“Are their names Jack and Shit?”

“Do you want to get beat the fuck up?”

“You can try.”

“You ugly toad-“

“Wet dog-“

“Both of you.” Gabe cuts in sternly, “Cut it out. You’re both in trouble and you’ll both have to explain what on earth you were doing at that party without telling anyone.”

“I think that means you and me are out of the water-“ Asher whispers to Milo.

“Both of you too. I’ve called both of your parents already.”

“Shit...” Asher laughs anyway. Milo sinks lower into his seat as if he was trying to hide from the world, as if the gravity of the situation had just caught up to him.

David huffs and leans back into the seat, looking out the window with a new resolve.

He’s never hearing Ash out again.

────────

Gabe opens the front door and lets both teenagers into the house before himself, closing it after he enters.

David and Tank were both still bickering with each other in the entryway as they took their shoes off.

Asher was dropped off first, thanking and apologizing to Gabe a final time before he slipped out of the car and strolled up to his door. David saw him say something along the lines of “I’m so sorry Mommy” to the doorbell camera by the door and actually rolled his eyes that time.

Milo’s mom was already at the door by the time Gabe had dropped him off, Tank had snorted at all the colour draining from Milo’s face as he left the car, stuttering through a “thank you, Gabe”.

The remaining three could hear Marie yelling at him through the car even without their heightened senses.

Gabe was silent the whole car ride home and so were his two teenagers. Up until they got home.

“You still haven’t told me what you were doing at the house,” David breaks the silence between him and Tank.

Tank folds their arms and leans against the wall, “And you still haven’t told me what you were doing there.”

He rolls his eyes, “I still asked first.”

“I still think my question is more important.”

“My question is automatically more important than yours.”

Tank narrows their eyes, “And why, exactly?”

“I’m older than you,”

Tank scoffs, “Meaning what?”

“Meaning that you answer my questions first.”

“All because you popped out of the womb a year before I did?"

“Exactly.”

“Well none of that’s gonna matter when I put you six feet under since you wanna be first so bad, dipshit-"

Gabe sighs heavily, “Both of you, stop provoking each other. Phones on the counter now.”

Both of them glare at the other before moving to set their phones on the kitchen counter with little hesitation.

“Thank you.” Gabe nods and moves to sit at the kitchen island in front of both teenagers, “Now…”

────────

that's all for now! there's actually a lot more of this fic/idea written, this is just the most coherent lol, let me know if you guy want more of it

if there's errors in it then that's not my problem 😁 (this will probably be a wip for literally ever lmao)

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted darlin #redacted david #redacted gabe #redacted shaw pack #redacted asher #redacted milo #redacted quinn #he's barely there but #this is kind of bad LMFAO #idk what i was doing tbh #but here it is #let me know if you want a continuation?#idk if it'll happen but we'll see #redacted asmr fic #redacted asmr fanfic #kae's fics

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