#I feel like if you get that mad about thank-you notes that should be on your radar
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
I totally get why people are miffed at not getting thank-you notes for wedding gifts at all—I do think that’s pretty cold unless you know all your guests are people who don’t care about thank-you notes—but I think there’s something legit wrong with someone who fumes at getting a thank-you note late, especially if they’re like “this is more insulting than no thank-you note!” and “they don’t care about me at all!” Especially when the lateness is attributable to different sources giving different timelines for post-wedding thank-you notes. Like, being judgmental is fair, but assuming malice in all cases is foul.
#idk I think part of manners is not assuming the worst of people#also. like. I’m not suggesting that there should be thank-you notes for thank-you notes#that’s ridiculous#but no one even mentioned getting a thank-you note from me after the wedding#like if I saw them in person#so how do I know they even got them#how do I know anyone even wants that#I feel like if you get that mad about thank-you notes that should be on your radar
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
This might be a weird needle to thread so i totally understand if it doesn’t work but:
reader who was blamed in a previous relationship for sex being too boring/infrequent/vanilla and has been conditioned that she has to initiate on a regular basis even if she’s not really feeling it for fear of her partner getting upset
maybe she and Jamie (or anyone, really, whatever person or group of people you think works for this) have had a hectic, stressful couple of weeks and she realizes that they haven’t had sex in a minute and it comes to light that she initiated because she was scared of the backlash if she didn’t
I often wonder how many people have sent me requests back in *checks notes* APRIL that have since unfollowed me. I'm sorry. thank you for your request; hopefully it finds you, and if not, I hope you're well out there wherever you are 🫶
James Potter x fem!reader who is worried he's upset over a lack of sex [1.2k words]
CW: mature themes/discussions around sex but nothing explicit, themes of consent and past abusive/toxic relationships, James being the king he is
James had been aware of your presence, but only managed to lift his head from his laptop when he realised you were simply hovering in the doorway instead of approaching him as you often did.
“Hey, angel.” He greets with a smile curling on his lips. “Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
He opens his arms in both a stretch and an invitation which you readily accept; your sock clad feet quickly padding across the room as you settle into his lap. He circles his arms around your middle and lets out an appreciative hum as he breathes you in.
“M’sorry.” You respond, and James’ brows furrow as he rests his chin on your shoulder and looks at you in bemusement.
“What’re you sorry for, sweetness?”
You shrug the shoulder James’ chin isn’t currently resting on as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t know…that you haven’t seen me in forever.”
A tsking sound escapes James’ lips as he unwraps one hand from your waist in favour of freeing your lip from its current assault. “There’s nothing to be sorry for; we’ve both been busy, yeah?”
You seem unconvinced but don’t bother voicing it; carding your hand through James’ curls as you begin to worry your poor lip again.
He lets you gather your thoughts before he asks “is there something on your mind?”
“Should we have sex?” You blurt rather suddenly, and James’ head actually rears back in shock, causing your hand to slide down his chest and into your lap. You turn bashful. “Do you want to have sex?” you quickly amend.
“I- we…sweetheart,” he stutters, “do you want to have sex?”
“We can have sex.” You agree quickly.
“That’s not what I asked, my love.”
You look properly troubled now; brows furrowed as your eyes frantically search James’ face as though he were a live bomb and you were responsible for disabling it. He opted to press a delicate kiss to the tip of your nose before resting his chin on your shoulder as you considered him.
“You’re not mad?” You nearly whisper, and James thinks he might cry, not just at the insinuation, but at the glassy quality your eyes took as you asked him.
“Of course not, sweetheart. What on earth do I have to be upset about?”
He can tell your shoulders are just itching to hike up in embarrassment as you begin fiddling nervously with the cuffs of the sleeves on your jumper.
“Well, we just…I realised we haven’t had sex for a long time?”
A long time? It was currently… Friday, and James was pretty sure the two of you fell into bed together Sunday night after dinner at Sirius and Remus’ place. Actually, he was certain the two of you fooled around Sunday night, because you have given him shite for not even managing to help you get your dress off before he was ridding you of your knickers.
But even if that had been a long time…
“I don’t really think that’s true, angel. And even if it was, what right would I have to be upset about that?”
You didn’t seem to have an answer for that.
“Have you wanted to have sex?” He tries, and he can see the conflict on your face before you even voice it. “I don’t want you to say we can have sex, I want to know if you want to have sex.”
“I…” you start, gaping at him, “well…I mean, right now?”
He simply tilts his head at you.
“Not… really? I mean, we c-”
“Nope, that’s all good. There’s no explanation required.”
Words die on your lips as you nearly shake your head in disbelief. “We- so…you’re not mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
“And… you’d tell me if you were?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. Can I ask you a question, though?” He asks, continuing when you nod your head yes. “Where is this coming from?”
“I…don’t really know.”
“Have I done something to make you think this is something I would be upset about?” He asks genuinely, heart cracking when you quickly shake your head in the negative, seemingly distressed over the thought of having offended him.
“No! No...I- you’ve been lovely; you’re lovely.”
“You’d tell me if I did, though?” He asks, craning his neck in an attempt to meet your eyes. “If I’d done something to make you feel as though I’d be upset?”
“I would.” You agree, eyes turning pensive before a sorrowful sigh leaves your lips. “I’m sorry, I…it’s not you, it really isn’t.”
James nods his head in understanding but doesn’t force you to elaborate, simply replacing your hand with his own when you begin picking aggressively at your nailbeds.
“I think it’s one of those…leftovers.” You explain, looking at him with a crinkled nose as though the ghosts of past relationships deigning to haunt this precious thing you had with James was a disgusting thought.
“Did someone make you feel bad if you…didn’t have sex?”
You shift your head back and forth in a so-so way. “Sometimes. Or if it wasn’t very good or…exciting or, yeah…if I didn’t offer frequently enough.”
James has a lot of thoughts about a lot of what just left your lips, but he tamps it down and takes a steadying breath as he simply embraces you tighter against his body; finding comfort in the fact that, at least now, you’re safe and settled with him.
“You owe me nothing, sweetheart.” He murmurs into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the space where your jumper gives way to skin before shifting you in his hold so that you were straddling his lap with no choice but to make eye contact with him. “Whatever you want, whenever you want it, okay? I like to think it’s very obvious when I’m putting the moves on you-”
He pauses to smile when you giggle; it had been his goal, but the sound surprises him anyway and he can’t help but relish in the warmth of it.
“-so you never have to guess or assume or initiate in worry that I’m sitting here waiting or wanting for you, okay?”
“Okay.” You let out with a breath; smiling at James as though he were some generous and honourable soul for not expecting you to put out every night. James really thinks this thing between you two might be forever, but if godforbid he’s just a chapter in your life, he hopes that - if nothing else - he can raise your standards.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Jamie.” You say with a wide smile.
“Do you want to have sex, sweetheart?”
You let out another laugh that turns into an exhausted groan as you fall limp into his chest. “Honestly? I sort of want to order takeaway and just rot on the couch.”
“Sounds like a plan, angel.” He says, leaning over to slam his laptop shut and patting your hip. “Off to the couch with you, I’ll order something for delivery.”
#marauders era#marauders au#self insert#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter#james potter fic#the marauders#marauders#hp marauders#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter ficlet#james potter imagine#james potter hurt/comfort#ellecdc fics
795 notes
·
View notes
Note
hii can I request blue lock boys comforting their s/o thats on her period? (if your uncomfy w this than jst ignore it)
Thank you! 💕💕
YOU'RE MY COMFORT!
·˚ ༘ ꒱ summary when they comfort their s/o who's on her period
·˚ ༘ ꒱ characters isagi yoichi , bachira meguru , itoshi rin , nagi seishiro , mikage reo , chigiri hyoma , hiori yo , shidou ryusei , itoshi sae , michael kaiser , alexis ness
·˚ ༘ ꒱ warning fem!reader implied , lowercase intended
·˚ ༘ ꒱ a/n eeeek i took a kinda long hiatus after exams so sorry this was late- TT
·˚ ༘ ꒱ isagi yoichi
isagi would be so sweettttt. like he’s 100% the type to google how to make your girlfriend feel better on her period and then go overboard. he shows up at your door with snacks, a hot water bottle, and a look of absolute determination.
“babe, i got chocolate, tea, and this random teddy bear i found. will that help??”
he also tries to distract you with soccer highlights and ends up ranting about strategy while you just cuddle into him. lwk adorable.
"yoichi, i don’t need all this, i’m fine—"
"nope. it’s my job to make sure you’re 100% okay!"
"…you’re too much."
"too much in love with you? absolutely."
·˚ ༘ ꒱ bachira meguru
bachira treats your period like it’s an adventure. he calls it “battle week” and declares himself your knight in shining armor. he’s running around like a maniac, making you laugh so hard you forget the pain.
he also makes you random art to cheer you up. one time, he drew a stick figure comic of you fighting a “period dragon” with a sword made of chocolate. you almost cried laughing.
"meguru, what is this??"
"you slaying your period. literally."
"you’re so dumb… but i love it."
"mission accomplished!!!!! >:D "
·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi rin
rin is… awkward. but he triessss. when you first tell him, he just blinks and goes, "okay. what do you need?" and when you say “nothing,” he goes into silent problem-solving mode.
he might not say much, but he’ll keep you company, bring you your favorite drinks, and make sure you’re comfortable. he’s like a walking checklist. it’s so sweet how seriously he takes it.
"rin, you don’t have to—"
"you said you have a headache, so i’m staying until it stops."
"you’re so stubborn-"
"you’re welcome."
·˚ ༘ ꒱ nagi seishiro
nagi is… so chill. you tell him you’re on your period, and he’s like, "oh. okay. do you wanna nap?" because in his mind, that fixes everything.
but the second you actually need something? he’s ( surprisingly ) up and moving faster than you thought possible. he’ll even let you steal his hoodie and hog all the blankets.
"sei, can you pass me the—"
"already got it. now come back to bed."
"why are you so good at this???"
"because i'm used to this by now."
·˚ ༘ ꒱ mikage reo
reo treats it like a high-stakes situation. he buys you EVERYTHING—snacks, heating pads, your favorite drinks, and even a blanket that looks like a giant burrito.
“what else do you need? should i call a doctor? a masseuse? build you a pillow fort?”
he’s over the top ( *cough* more than usual *cough* ), but it’s so sweet you can’t even be mad.
"reo, you don’t need to do all this—"
"yes, i do. you’re in pain, and i don’t like it."
"you’re insane."
"insanely in love with you, yep."
·˚ ༘ ꒱ chigiri hyoma
chigiri is so calm and collected about it. he’s like, “i got this.” he makes you tea, rubs your back, and lets you vent about how annoying it all is.
he also takes you on peaceful walks or sits with you by the window, brushing your hair and talking about random things to keep your mind off the cramps. it’s giving romance movie vibes.
"hyoma, you’re like… weirdly good at this."
"i have a sister. i’ve trained for this moment."
"oh my god, of course you have."
·˚ ༘ ꒱ hiori yo
hiori is the gentlest bean. he’s like, “do you need anything? want me to get you soup? should we watch your favorite movie?” he’s so soft and accommodating, it’s almost ridiculous.
he also writes you little notes to cheer you up, like: “you’re stronger than cramps 💪 i believe in you!!”
"hiori, this note is so cheesy—"
"but did it make you smile?"
"…yeah, it did."
"then it worked. :D "
·˚ ༘ ꒱ shidou ryusei
shidou is chaotic as ever, but surprisingly… thoughtful? he shows up with junk food, a heating pad, and an attitude like, “let’s beat this period’s ass together.”
he’s also the type to jokingly pick a fight with your u t e r u s ( you read that right ), yelling things like: “how dare you hurt my girl?! square up, you coward!” it’s dumb, but it works.
"ryu, stop yelling at my uterus—"
"not until it apologizes."
"you’re so stupid."
"but you’re laughing, so i win."
·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi sae
sae is quietly attentive. he doesn’t say much, but he notices everything—like the way you hold your stomach or wince when you move. suddenly, you’ve got a hot water bottle and your favorite drink in your hand, no explanation needed.
he’ll sit with you in comfortable silence, scrolling on his phone until you’re ready to talk. it’s subtle, but you feel so cared for.
"sae, you didn’t have to get all this—"
"you’re in pain. of course i did."
"…thanks."
"don’t mention it."
·˚ ༘ ꒱ michael kaiser
kaiser is so dramatic about it. the second you tell him, he’s like, “mein gott, my poor love! what can i do?!” he acts like you're about to be taken from him.
but honestly? he’s surprisingly good at making you laugh and keeping your spirits up. he’ll even let you boss him around for the day.
"michael, stop being so dramatic—"
"i can’t help it! your pain is my pain!"
"you’re ridiculous."
"and you love me for it."
·˚ ༘ ꒱ alexis ness
ness is the sweetest little bean. he immediately offers to make you tea and snuggle on the couch with your favorite blanket. he’s like a human heater—so warm and comforting.
he also sends you texts like, “you’re doing amazing, sweetheart 💖 cramps don’t stand a chance against you!” pure angel.
"ness, you’re being so extra—"
"only because you deserve it!"
"you’re such a dork."
"your dork 🥰."
© txrully
copy/translate/plagiarize/repost my works in any way and i will be under your bed 🥰
likes + reblogs always appreciated <3
#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi#bachira x reader#bachira meguru#itoshi rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro#reo mikage x reader#reo mikage#chigiri x reader#chigiri hyoma#hiori yo#hiori x reader#shidou x reader#shidou ryusei#itoshi sae#sae x reader#michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#alexis ness#ness x reader#💌 ⸝⸝ anon's ask ‹𝟹#🌷 ⸝⸝ sisi's inbox ‹𝟹#🌻 ⸝⸝ sisi's asks ‹𝟹#🩷⸝⸝ ʙʟʟᴋ ᴛʀᴇᴇ#bllk x reader#headcanon
587 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐇𝐄...
☆彡SUMMARY.; Things I believe he would do in a relationship that you’d (us.. all of us..😭) would find attractive
☆彡FEATURED.; ARMANDO ARETAS x READER
☆彡TROPE.; Established Relationship
☆彡FORMAT.; HEADCANON
☆彡GENRE.; FLUFF + SUGGESTION + A TINY BIT OF ANGST
☆彡WARNINGS.; mature language, mature actions, a lil bit of Armando’s toxicity shining thru, brief mentions of choking (not in like he’s gonna kill u type of way😭) brief mentions of violence, a little bit of spoilers ahead.
☆彡NOTES.; heyyyy thank u guys SAURRRR much for the love on the last Armando work I posted, I’m glad so many of yall liked it and I will continue to post and write about him 🫶🏽. (And yeah I took that picture on the middle so be free to save.. cause whew lord..). I hope you guys enjoy this one😛💕.
REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED🫶🏽.
[IN PUBLIC]
✬ Armando would keep an eye on you, especially since he’s not a very trusting person to most
✬ He’s like very aware of the space you’re both in so he’d keep you at least within arms reach of him if it’s just a regular kind of day
✬ And he’d also do that thing where if he wants you to move, he’ll grab your waist and either shift you to where he wants you to do, or he’ll do that just to pass behind you
✬ And he a quiet person so instead of using many words, he just stares and expects you to know what he’s thinking
✬ If a situation arises where you’re doing something that he thinks you shouldn’t be doing, he’ll simply clear his throat and stare and he knows you should know what he’s thinking
✬ also this man has no filter whatsoever, so if you’re talking, it doesn’t even have to be to him, you could be taking to his dad or something and he’ll just blurt out some of the most insane stuff in either Spanish or English
✬ (like he did to that girl when he called her fine)
✬ like if you say “im so hot” on a day when it’s scorching outside he’d def say stuff like “I definitely agree” or some shit like that just to embarrass you
✬ He’d also stare at your lips while you’re talking to him, especially if you’re mad at him
✬ and openly stare at your body too
[ON CASES || MISSIONS]
✬ you don’t even have to be in a relationship for this one but just watching him fight
✬ Each movement of his is so effortless and he just looks good each and every time
✬ He’d also probably see you staring and raise an eyebrow at you and tell you to pay attention
✬ would tease you on missions definitely
✬ especially if it’s a mission together
✬ only a bit tho cause he’s very focused on missions
✬ makes you be his backpack on his motorcycle
✬ he’d adjust your hand to where he wants it when riding the motorcycle
✬ drives it with one hand and occasionally taps at your leg with the other
✬ and if he has time, he’ll teach you to fight like he does
[IN PRIVATE]
✬ in private he’s definitely an attitude fixer
✬ if you do something to piss him off he’ll probably just stop talking all together until you apologize
✬ when that happens tho he furrows and raises his eyebrows a lot while clenching his jaw as a way to not get too annoyed with you
✬ curses in Spanish a lottttt
✬ and when you’re being bratty or rude to him, he’ll literally grab you by the neck and bring you real close to his face then say in your ear “arregla tu actitud antes de que yo la arregle por ti..” (fix your attitude before i fix it for you..)
✬ ofc he’d do that in public too
✬ I feel like he’d be a bit clingy when alone because he doesn’t like pda, so he waits until it’s private and will literally grab all over you
✬ he cooks shirtless (idc it’s true and yes he can cook🤚🏽)
✬ has told you the most mundane every day things in the sexiest voice ever
✬whistles when you walk in a room
✬ and slaps your butt regularly (sue me ik he does🤚🏽)
✬if you’re sleeping in the same bed there’s only two places he’ll sleep, on your butt or on your stomach (no in between 🤷🏽♀️)
✬ uses that same condescending voice on you to tell you what to do, when you’re wrong, or to stop acting up
eugh I love him sm🥹
#🪸 :: 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦#armando aretas#armando armas#jacob scipio#bad boys ride or die#bad boys for life#armando x reader#armando aretas x reader#armando armas x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Bestfriend's Sister
Pairing : Mingyu × afab reader
Synopsis : in which mingyu has a crush on his best friend's sister but is too scared to ask her out ;)
Genre : short story, smut
Warnings : size k!nk, creampie, boob play, drinking, masturbat!on
[ New author, so if there are any mistakes let me know, will try to improve ]
-------------------------------------------
Chapter 1 : Meeting you again
Mingyu sat at his desk, the glow of his laptop illuminating the darkened dorm room. His notes sprawled chaotically across the table, mirroring the chaos in his mind. College life wasn't the smooth path everyone had promised.
"Just get into SNU," they said.
"Life will be set." Those words now felt like a cruel joke.
Surrounded by prodigies and overachievers, he often wondered if he truly belonged. Balancing academics, friendships, and the rare moments of self-care had become an exhausting juggling act.
And just when he thought it couldn't get more complicated, fate threw him a curveball.
At the 2024 fresher's party, amidst the crowd of enthusiastic new faces, his heart froze. There she was—his crush. The girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart years ago now stood a few feet away, laughing effortlessly with a group of freshmen. Mingyu's pulse quickened as a wave of disbelief washed over him.
"What is she doing here?" he muttered under his breath. For years, he'd assumed she would follow her brother's footsteps and study abroad. Her brother—his best friend—had often talked about how their family prioritized prestigious overseas education. Seeing her here, in his university, was the last thing Mingyu expected. It wasn't just her presence that threw him off. It was the tangled web of emotions that came with it.
Mingyu had long accepted that his feelings for her were off-limits. She wasn't just any girl; she was his best friend's sister. And if there was one unspoken rule in his life, it was this: never break the bro code.
He could already hear his friend's voice in his head, joking yet firm: "You even think about my sister, and I'll kill you, dude." It wasn't an actual threat—probably—but Mingyu had never dared to test it. Yet, seeing her now, radiant and completely unaware of the storm she'd just stirred in his heart, made things infinitely harder. As the evening wore on, he tried to act normal. To blend into the crowd. But his eyes kept drifting back to her. She looked different—not the high schooler he remembered but someone more confident, more vibrant.
"Why now? Why here?" he thought. Life was already overwhelming, and now he had to deal with this? But deep down, he knew the truth. He wasn't mad because she was here. He was mad because, for the first time, he couldn't ignore the possibility of something more. And that scared him more than failing his next midterm.
"Eoh? Mingyu oppa?" Sera's voice broke through the noise of the crowded room. Her eyes lit up as she smiled at him, her face the perfect blend of surprise and warmth.
"It's been so long, right?" Mingyu froze for a moment, caught off guard by how effortlessly she drew his attention. Rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit he couldn't seem to shake—he managed a coy smile.
"Yeah, it has," he replied, his voice quieter than he intended. A brief silence settled between them, the kind that felt heavier than it should. Mingyu scrambled for something to say, anything to fill the growing gap. "Congrats," he finally offered, his tone sincere. "Getting into SNU's med school isn't easy. You must've worked really hard."
"Thank you, oppa." Sera's smile widened, her cheeks slightly tinged with pink.
Before either of them could say more, a loud voice cut through the moment. "SERA-YAH!" Her friends were calling from the other side of the party, their laughter and energy adding to the lively chaos of the party. Sera glanced over her shoulder before turning back to Mingyu.
"I think they're waiting for you," Mingyu said, his tone gentle but his expression unreadable. She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to stay or go. "You're right. I'll see you later, oppa," she said with a small nod before heading toward her friends.
Mingyu watched her retreating figure, her laughter blending into the noise of the party. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, the familiar ache in his chest returning.
------------------
Some weeks later
"Bro, let's win this game," Joo Hyuk said, clapping Mingyu on the shoulder, his eyes brimming with determination.
"Yeah, let's do this!" Mingyu replied, his voice full of energy as he tightened his shoelaces and jogged onto the field.
The match between SNU's engineering department and the medicine department had drawn a sizable crowd, the atmosphere electric with cheers and chants. From the whistle's blow, it was clear this wasn't going to be an easy game. Both teams played fiercely, each pass and tackle charged with adrenaline.
It was neck-and-neck, the score tied until the final moments. Then, with a perfectly timed pass from Joo Hyuk, Mingyu seized the opportunity. With a sharp kick, the ball soared past the goalkeeper and into the net.
The engineering department erupted into cheers, their players rushing to huddle around Mingyu, who was grinning ear to ear. "We did it!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of celebration.
On the sidelines, Sera watched the scene unfold with a smile. The medicine department's supporters were quieter now, some already drifting toward the exit. She turned to her friends and laughed lightly, saying, "I guess we'll have to cheer a lot louder for our medicine department next time."
Mingyu, still catching his breath, heard her words over the noise. He glanced toward her, his grin softening. Her laugh, her effortless charm.
It wasn't the words that caught him off guard but her outfit — her cheerleading outfit.
The way the uniform fit her, or how the vibrant red skirt clung to her thighs, drawing his eyes in an almost magnetic pull. It was the sheer presence she exuded from across the field that captivated him.
Mingyu had always been aware of her beauty, under the stadium lights, she was a vision that sent a rush of heat through him. Every leap, every sway of her hips was a siren call, pulling him in deeper despite the distance.
He gulped hard, trying to focus on the other celebrating their victory, but distraction had a way of creeping in when least expected. Mingyu felt an undeniable pressure building within him, an urgency that demanded his attention. "Oh shit, not now," he muttered under his breath, realizing he couldn't ignore the undeniable reaction his body was having any longer. The heat radiating from his cheeks was felt in more than just his face.
He excused himself, the camaraderie of his teammates drowning in the chaos of his thoughts as he slipped away towards the washroom. Once inside, he swiftly closed the door behind him, locking it with an almost desperate urgency. The small space was eerily quiet, but in the stillness, the rush of blood in his ears was deafening.
With shaky hands, he fumbled with his pants, feeling the strain of his arousal pressing tightly against the fabric. The image of Sera in that unforgettable outfit - the way it hugged her curves, the glimpses of her pale skin - played behind his eyelids. It was intoxicating, igniting a fire within him that was impossible to suppress.
As he freed himself, his breath quickened, the need to release the tension almost overwhelming. He thought of her laughter, the way she sparkled with energy, and the sight of her moving gracefully with each cheer. Each thought sent shivers through him, and he couldn't help but quicken his pace.
Mingyu leaned against the cool tiles of the wall, consumed by the moment, lost in his mind as the outside world faded away. In that tiny sanctuary, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy, letting the image of Sera dance across his thoughts, a vibrant whirl of red and gold that pushed him closer to the edge.
Chapter 2 : Pride First
Mingyu stepped out of the washroom, his face flushed, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. He ran a hand through his damp hair, avoiding Joo Hyuk's gaze as he leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.
Joo Hyuk shot him a side-eye, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Seriously, dude? GET SOME PUSSY MAN," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I didn't come to the washroom to hear my roommate release himself in the university washroom," Joo Hyuk continued.
"Sorry", Mingyu mumbled, his ears burning as he hurriedly brushed past Joo Hyuk.
Behind him, Joo Hyuk shook his head, muttering to himself, "This guy... hopeless.".
-----------------------------
Two weeks had passed since that day, and Mingyu had made it his mission to avoid Sera. He steered clear of the med department entirely, choosing routes and spots where he knew he wouldn't run into her. It wasn't easy, but he convinced himself it was necessary.
That afternoon, he sat in the bustling campus canteen, savoring his boba and relishing a rare moment of peace. The sweet tapioca pearls were a small comfort in an otherwise chaotic schedule.
But peace was fleeting.
"Mingyu oppa!"
Her voice rang out, bright and unmistakable. His heart sank as he looked up to see Sera rushing toward him, her long hair flowing behind her, her smile as radiant as ever.
Mingyu forced a small, polite smile, his grip tightening on his drink. "Oh, hey, Sera."
"This weekend, can I go home with you?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes hopeful. "My mom sent something for your mom, and she told me to give it to her directly."
Mingyu hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He scratched the back of his head, trying to buy himself a second to think. "Oh, um, sorry, but I'm not going home this weekend," he said, his voice as nonchalant as he could manage.
Sera tilted her head, her expression puzzled. "Huh? But you go home every weekend," she said, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Yeah, I know," he replied, quickly averting his gaze. "But I've got this big project to work on. You can go without me, though."
Her smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, nodding. "Oh, okay. I see."
Before she could say anything more, Mingyu stood, grabbing his cup. "I've got to get going. I'll see you around, Sera," he said hurriedly and walked off, leaving her standing there.
----------------------
That weekend, Sera found herself standing in front of the Kim family's home. She rang the doorbell, clutching the small package her mother had given her. Moments later, the door swung open.
"What took you so long?" came a familiar voice, half-scolding, half-teasing. Mingyu's mother stood in the doorway, her expression softening the instant she saw Sera. "Oh, it's you, Sera! I thought it was Mingyu."
Sera offered a polite bow and a small smile. "Hello, auntie. Sorry to drop by unannounced."
"Nonsense! Come in, come in," Mrs. Kim said warmly, stepping aside to let her in. "It's always a pleasure to see you."
Once inside, the comforting scent of freshly brewed tea filled the air. Mrs. Kim led Sera to the living room, gesturing for her to sit. "Honey!" she called out toward the garden. "Look who's here!"
Mr. Kim emerged a moment later, wiping his hands on a towel. His face lit up when he saw her. "Ah, Sera! What a nice surprise. Come, have a seat," he said, pulling out a chair for her.
Sera couldn't help but smile at their warmth. "Thank you, uncle. I came to drop something off from my mom," she explained, holding up the package.
"What is it?" Mrs. Kim asked, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she watched Sera carefully unwrap the package.
As the final layer of wrapping came off, Mr. Kim leaned in for a better look. "Omo!" She exclaimed, her tone filled with surprise and admiration.
Inside lay a pristine, carefully preserved 30-year-old ginseng root, its rich golden hue a testament to its value.
"Mom heard that you weren't feeling well recently," Sera explained with a soft smile. "She said this 30-year-old ginseng would be perfect for you and insisted I bring it over."
Mrs. Kim's hand flew to her chest, her eyes widening. "Omo, Sera! This is so expensive. You didn't have to go through all this trouble!"
"Please, just take it," Sera said, her tone gentle but firm. "Mom would be upset if you didn't."
Mrs. Kim glanced at her husband, who nodded approvingly, a proud smile playing on his lips. "Your family is always so thoughtful," Mrs. Kim said, her voice tinged with gratitude. "Thank you, Sera. This means so much to me."
"Of course, auntie," Sera replied. "Mom said your health is more important than anything."
Mr. Kim chuckled warmly. "Looks like your mom has great timing. This will definitely help her feel better."
Mrs. Kim placed the ginseng back into its wrapping with care, her expression softening. "You must stay for dinner, Sera. I won't take no for an answer."
Sera laughed lightly and nodded, her heart warmed by the sincerity of their gratitude.
"I don't understand why Mingyu didn't come home," Mrs. Kim said, her brows knitted as she placed another dish on the dinner table. "He told me just last Monday that he'd be coming back to pick up some important things."
She sighed, her frustration evident. "He should have at least given us a call," she added, shaking her head.
Sera, seated across from them, glanced up from her plate. "Oppa said he had a project to work on," she said casually between bites, trying to downplay the situation.
"Project?" Mr. Kim interjected, his fork pausing mid-air. "What project? He told me just last week that he was finally free because his project was done." He frowned thoughtfully. "Did the professors give him another one so soon?"
Mrs. Kim crossed her arms, her expression softening into mild concern. "Something doesn't add up. He's usually so responsible about keeping us informed."
Sera's thoughts clouded as she processed the conversation. Mingyu was avoiding her—she knew that much—but to go to such lengths to steer clear of her? That realization hit harder than she expected.
She forced herself to finish dinner quickly, the food tasting bland against the turmoil in her mind.
"It would've been nice if you stayed the night," Mrs. Kim said warmly as Sera got up to leave.
"Next time, Auntie," Sera replied with a polite smile, bowing deeply before stepping out of the house.
The moment she was outside, the weight of her thoughts bore down on her. "Does he really hate spending time with his best friend's little sister this much? Am I... that embarrassing?"
"Fine," Sera muttered under her breath, clenching her fists as she walked to the bus stop. "If I'm that embarrassing, then I'll avoid him too. I'm Jeon Sera, after all."
Her voice carried a defiant edge, as if saying it aloud would make her resolve stronger. She straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to hold her head high as the bus pulled up.
The ride back to the college dorms was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional chatter of other passengers. Sera stared out the window, the city lights blurring past her.
"If he doesn't want to see me, then so be it," she thought, though a small pang of hurt lingered in her chest. "I've got my pride too."
Chapter 3 : Make Him Jealous
Three weeks had passed since Mingyu last saw Sera. At first, when he was avoiding her, he'd still catch glimpses of her around campus—a fleeting silhouette in the crowd, her laughter echoing in the distance. But now, it was as if she had vanished into thin air.
Not once did he see her near the library, the canteen, or even the med department corridors.
Mingyu adjusted his bag on his shoulder, glancing around the campus grounds as he walked to class. The familiar buzz of students chatting and rushing past him felt oddly hollow. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away.
"I guess it's for the best," he muttered under his breath, his words lacking the conviction he wanted them to carry.
"Bro, wanna party after class?" Joo Hyuk leaned over, grinning as he nudged Mingyu.
"Nah, I'm fine," Mingyu replied, shaking his head.
"Come on, man," Joo Hyuk pressed, but before he could push further, the professor entered the room, silencing the chatter. Mingyu turned his attention to the front, zoning in on whatever physics the professor was explaining.
When the bell rang, signaling a break, Joo Hyuk was already on his feet. "Oh, finally a break! Come on, let's roam around the campus."
"It's just 15 minutes," Mingyu argued, opening his book. "What's the point of going out?"
Joo Hyuk rolled his eyes. "I'm not hearing all that." Without waiting for another word, he grabbed Mingyu's arm and dragged him out of the classroom.
"Damn, it's sunny," Joo Hyuk groaned, shielding his eyes as they walked toward the canteen. Once inside, he headed straight for the cashier. "Two iced Americanos, please."
While Joo Hyuk waited, Mingyu wandered near the seating area, his eyes scanning the room. He paused mid-step when he saw her. Sera.
"Oppa?" Her familiar voice rang out, accompanied by a bright smile as she moved in his direction. Mingyu froze, his heart skipping a beat.
But just as quickly, reality hit him. Sera walked past him without a second glance. Mingyu blinked, confused, and turned around to see her approaching someone else—a tall guy standing behind him.
"Oppa, can I borrow your biochemistry notes?" Sera asked the tall guy, her tone warm and friendly.
"Sure," the guy, Sera's senior, Jin Sun Ho, replied with a casual smile. "But, Sera, I'm afraid you won't be able to read my handwriting. How about I help you with them in the library?"
Sera laughed lightly. "That sounds great, thanks!" The two walked out of the canteen together, chatting as they left.
Mingyu was still staring after them when Joo Hyuk returned, handing him an iced Americano. "Woah," Joo Hyuk said, watching the pair disappear through the door. "Looks like the med school god and goddess are finally hitting it off."
"What do you mean?" Mingyu asked, his voice unintentionally sharp.
Joo Hyuk raised an eyebrow. "Do you live under a rock? Jin Sun Ho is the med school's god—smart, handsome, and rich. And Sera? She's the goddess. Pretty, brilliant, and, well, rich. Everyone's been saying they'd make the perfect couple."
He sipped his drink, oblivious to the way Mingyu's grip tightened on his cup. Mingyu said nothing, his eyes lingering on the door where Sera and Jin Sun Ho had just left.
--------------------
"Your handwriting isn't that bad, oppa," Sera said with a small smile as she diligently copied down the notes. Her pen moved swiftly across the page while Sun Ho leaned slightly closer, pointing out key terms and concepts.
Sun Ho chuckled softly, resting his chin in his hand as he watched her work. "Maybe you just have extraordinary deciphering skills," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Most people look at my notes and call them hieroglyphics.
Sera laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Well, I guess I have a knack for cracking your code," she replied, glancing up at him briefly before focusing back on the page.
"Or maybe you're just too kind to admit how terrible my handwriting actually is," Sun Ho quipped with a grin, tapping the edge of the notebook.
Sera shook her head, her lips curving into a soft smile. "No, really. It's not bad at all. And your explanations make everything so much clearer," she said earnestly, her brown eyes meeting his.
For a moment, Sun Ho's teasing demeanor softened. "Glad I can help," he said, his tone warm. "Not everyone would put up with my chicken scratch."
"Well, I'm not just anyone," Sera said with a playful shrug, her confidence shining through as she continued writing.
"How about a selfie?" Sun Ho asked suddenly, pulling out his phone with a playful grin.
Sera looked up from the notebook, a mixture of surprise and amusement on her face. "In the library?" she whispered, stifling a giggle.
Sun Ho leaned in closer, angling the camera to fit both of them in the frame. "Relax," he said with a smirk. "No one's going to say a word to me." Without waiting for her response, he snapped the photo, capturing Sera mid-laugh.
"Sun Ho!" she scolded lightly, though her smile betrayed her amusement.
He examined the picture with a satisfied nod. "Perfect. My followers are going to love this," he said as he began typing a caption.
"You're posting it?" Sera's eyes widened in mild disbelief.
"Of course," he replied, his tone casual as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Why wouldn't I?"
Sera shook her head, unable to suppress a laugh as she returned to her notes. Moments later, Sun Ho's phone buzzed with likes and comments flooding in, his followers reacting to the unexpected post.
On the screen was the caption: "Study buddies" .
Chapter 4 : Drunk Mingyu
"Woah, check this out," Joohyuk said, grinning as he waved his phone in front of Mingyu after their last class of the day.
Mingyu glanced down at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he saw the Instagram photo of Sera and Sun Ho standing side by side, their smiles bright and carefree. A strange feeling twisted in his chest—something between envy and frustration—but he masked it with a shrug, trying not to let it show.
"Since when did you become so invested in other people's business, huh, Joohyuk?" Mingyu asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to keep his voice casual.
Joohyuk chuckled, unfazed by Mingyu's tone. "Oh, come on, man. You need a little gossip to survive the madness that is SNU," he said, tapping his phone's screen. "Everyone's talking about this picture. It's like the campus's new hottest trend."
Mingyu rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't have the time for that kind of stuff."
"Right, of course," Joohyuk replied, his grin widening. "You're too busy being the mysterious guy who doesn't care about anything except his grades." He nudged Mingyu playfully.
Mingyu shrugged again, trying to brush off the weird fluttering in his stomach. "Just don't get too wrapped up in it, alright? We've got our own lives to focus on."
"Sure, sure," Joohyuk replied with a wink. "But you know, it's always more fun to watch the drama unfold from the sidelines."
Joohyuk leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Alright, enough of this. Come with me to the club and let loose for once."
Mingyu hesitated, glancing at his outfit. "Like this? My clothes are too plain, I need to change." He tried to muster an excuse, adjusting the collar of his shirt.
Joohyuk rolled his eyes, his expression turning playful but firm. "I'm not hearing any of that, man. I know you'll find a thousand reasons to back out and never show up. We're going, and we're going now."
Mingyu opened his mouth to protest, but Joohyuk was already dragging him toward the door, his grip surprisingly strong. "You're coming with me, no more excuses. Tonight's about fun, not studying."
Mingyu sighed but couldn't help the reluctant grin that crept across his face. "Fine, fine," he muttered. "But you owe me a drink for this."
Joohyuk flashed a victorious smile. "Deal."
The neon lights of the club flickered around them as Mingyu and Joohyuk settled into their seats, the music pulsating through the air. Mingyu was already deep in his drinks, the bitter taste of alcohol doing little to numb the ache in his chest. He stared into his glass, his heart heavy, thoughts swirling around Sera and the distance between them that felt impossible to bridge.
Joohyuk, ever the party animal, raised his eyebrows as Mingyu downed another drink in one go. "Ayo, man, slow down," Joohyuk said, his voice slightly slurred. "We have class tomorrow. You're gonna regret this."
Mingyu looked at his friend, a wry smile twisting on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What's the point of this life if I can't be with her?" he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. He didn't care that he was starting to sound like a mess—he was already too far gone.
Joohyuk blinked, suddenly aware of the shift in Mingyu's mood. "Oh, no, not here," he groaned, slapping his palm against the table. "I brought you here to have fun, not cry over some girl you can't get over. This night is supposed to be fun, man!"
But Mingyu wasn't listening. He tipped his head back, gulping down another drink, his emotions taking over in a drunken haze. "Is there any way to make her like me?" he slurred, his eyes glassy. "I can't stand seeing her with someone else... I just... I just want her to be mine."
Joohyuk let out a low whistle. "It's kinda hard to believe that you, with that handsome face of yours, can't get a girl," he teased, leaning back in his chair, his buzz starting to kick in.
Mingyu's face crumpled again, and Joohyuk frowned, his tone shifting to concern. "Who is she? The girl that's got you all twisted up like this?"
Mingyu's words came out in a jumbled mess, and soon enough, his eyes were glistening with tears, the alcohol fueling his emotions further. "You remember my best friend... the one who studies abroad?" he began, voice cracking. "She's his..."
Joohyuk froze for a moment, eyes wide as he processed the situation. "His girlfriend?" he asked in disbelief, his lips curling into a half-smile. "Bro, you gotta be kidding me. Out of all the girls in the world, you fall for your homie's girl?"
"NO, NO!" Mingyu shot back, waving his hand in a frantic motion as his emotions overtook him again. "She's not his girlfriend!" he repeated, his voice breaking.
Joohyuk blinked. "Then what's the problem, man? If she's not with him, what's stopping you?"
Mingyu's face crumpled in despair, his voice almost a whisper as he stumbled over the words. "She... she's his sister," he confessed, his drunken state making it feel even more tragic. He pulled Joohyuk into a tight hug, his body shaking with the weight of his emotions. "I don't know what to do, man. I can't... I can't have her, but I can't stop wanting her."
Joohyuk sat there, stunned for a moment. He didn't know how to respond, his mind processing the ridiculousness of the situation. "Bro," he finally said, a slight chuckle escaping him. "You're... you're really in love with your best friend's sister? That's the problem?"
Mingyu sobbed a little more, the alcohol making everything feel more intense than it probably was. "I know, I know," he said, his voice muffled in Joohyuk's shoulder. "It's messed up. I just... I just can't stop thinking about her."
Joohyuk shook his head in disbelief.
Joo Hyuk, with a mischievous grin, urged Mingyu to let loose and find some companionship for the night. He grabbed the alcohol glass from Mingyu's hand, downing the remaining contents in one swift motion. "Come on, forget everything and let's hit the dance floor," Joo Hyuk said, leading the way.
Mingyu followed, his mind still hazy from the alcohol. As they stepped onto the dance floor, the pulsating beat of the music consumed them. Mingyu felt the weight of his worries melt away with each step.
Before long, Joo Hyuk had already found a companion for the night, disappearing to the other side of the club with a sly wink. Mingyu, on the other hand, was approached by a stranger.
"Hey, aren't you Mingyu Sunbae from the engineering department?" the girl asked, her voice like a melody.
Mingyu looked at her and nodded. "Nice to meet you, I'm Seyeong from the medicine department," she introduced herself, flashing a bright smile.
Before Mingyu could respond, Seyeong had already moved closer, her body swaying in time with the music. She placed her hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer until their chests were touching. Mingyu was taken aback, but the alcohol coursed through his veins, numbing his senses.
Seyeong's movements were fluid, like a dance. She pressed her cleavage against his chest, making it a full display of her assets. Mingyu's mind was consumed with thoughts of Sera. In his alcohol-infused haze, he couldn't help but think that Seyeong was Sera, sent to him as an answer to his prayers.
"Want to get a room?" Seyeong whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his skin.
Mingyu's vision swam in a hazy blur, the flashing lights of the club illuminating the space around him. His mind felt foggy, and the alcohol had wrapped him in a warm cocoon of numbness. But then, his eyes caught something—or rather, someone. At the entrance of the club, standing like a figure from a dream, was her.
"Sera?" Mingyu mumbled to himself, blinking rapidly as if doing so would somehow snap him out of his daze and make everything clearer. He squinted, the familiar silhouette in front of him. He stumbled back slightly, his voice slurring as he spoke louder than he intended. "TWO TWO SERA?"
The girl in front of him, who had been dancing with him just moments before, followed his gaze, confusion painting her face as she turned her head toward the entrance. She froze for a second, processing what he said, before her own realization hit her.
"Sera?" she echoed, her voice laced with disbelief as her eyes locked on the girl Mingyu was referring to.
Mingyu, still drunk and caught in the throes of his mixed-up emotions, looked between the two—Sera at the entrance and the Sera in his arms. "Wait... no way, how come there are two Seras," he muttered under his breath.
The music seemed to throb louder in his ears as he fumbled to make sense of the situation. Seyeong's expression shifted from confusion to mild irritation, her eyes narrowing as she took a step back from him.
"Did you seriously think I was Sera this whole time?" Seyeong's voice was sharp, tinged with disbelief. She crossed her arms over her chest, her face now set in an indignant frown. "What a jerk."
Before Mingyu could say another word, she pushed him lightly but firmly away from her, the force of the motion knocking him off balance for a moment.
Seyeong shook her head, her disappointment evident, and with a final glance at Mingyu, she turned and walked off into the crowd, leaving him standing there, still trying to piece everything together.
Chapter 4 : Confrontation
As the adrenaline faded away, he found himself seeking a way out, desperate to escape the turmoil of his thoughts.
"How long are you going to keep yourself away from me?" Sera's voice sliced through the noise, confident and unwavering. Mingyu, taken aback, feigned ignorance. "I don't understand what you're talking about," he responded, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Without hesitation, Sera moved closer, closing the space between them. Her hand reached for his, holding it firmly as if refusing to let him slip away. "You can drop the act now, oppa," she insisted. The tone in her voice was resolute, a stark contrast to Mingyu's hesitant demeanor.
"I heard it all," she leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. His heart raced as she held onto his neck, standing on her tiptoes to bring her face near his. Her proximity was intoxicating, yet troubling.
"You are Jeonwoo's sister. I can't—" Mingyu tried to back away, but Sera was relentless. She cut him off, sealing her defiance with a kiss on his cheek, a playful yet poignant gesture that sent a thrill through him. Mingyu's heart sank and soared all at once as he finally met her gaze.
"Okay, then I will go to Sunho Oppa," she teased, her demeanor flipping from assertive to mischievous in an instant as she turned to walk away. The implication of her words hit Mingyu like a freight train. His grip instinctively tightened around her wrist, pulling her back to him.
"Please, Sera," he pleaded, his expression shifting to one that could only be described as puppy-like, eyes wide with a mix of desperation and longing. The playful banter began melting away, leaving behind the raw emotion that had bubbled just beneath the surface.
"Then tell me," Sera said suddenly, her voice soft yet filled with an urgency that made Mingyu's heart race. In that moment, he felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
Mingyu looked deeper into her eyes, a vibrant mix of curiosity and vulnerability reflecting back at him. It felt as if time had come to a standstill; the noise of the bar faded into the background, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of fleeting possibility. A sudden wave of courage surged through him, igniting a fire within that he had kept at bay for far too long. Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
The kiss was electric—a culmination of longing and love, a blending of dreams that had been waiting for this moment to manifest. Their lips brushed against each other with a tender urgency, savoring every fleeting second, as if trying to grasp a moment that could slip away at any instant. In that enchantment, everything else ceased to exist, and all they could feel was each other.
"I like you," Mingyu confessed, his breath mingling with hers in between kisses, each word carrying the weight of a thousand unsaid feelings. The revelation hung in the air, both exhilarating and terrifying, yet it felt right.
Sera pulled back for just a moment, her eyes sparkling with surprise and delight. "We can continue at the hotel room," she said, a playful smile curling her lips.
-------------------------
The hotel room door creaked open, the sound amplifying the electric atmosphere that buzzed between Mingyu and Sera. As they crossed the threshold, their lips met in a fervent kiss that seemed to encapsulate the world outside—one that held no constraints or responsibilities. Nothing else existed in that moment but the two of them, lost in each other's embrace.
With a swift kick, Mingyu nudged the door shut, intent on carving out a little world where only they mattered. He traced Sera's delicate figure with admiration, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. The nearby table became their temporary sanctuary as he gently set her down, still locked in a passionate kiss. "You are too short; my neck hurts," he murmured playfully, yet his eyes spoke of hunger, desire.
Sera, feeling emboldened, wrapped her legs around his waist, a teasing move that brought their bodies even closer. The heat between them ignited as Mingyu's hands found their way to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off to reveal his toned physique. To him, she was petite and enchanting, every curve inviting exploration.
Their lips collided once more, becoming lost in the rhythm of soft sighs and heated breaths. Mingyu's hands, skilled yet gentle, began to undress Sera, each layer he shed revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her form. As he unclasped her bra, he feasted his eyes on her plump breasts, a sight that made his heart race with insatiable desire.
Mingyu leaned down, his mouth enveloping her soft skin, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him as he lavished her with attention. His hands wandered, finding their way to her clit through her clothing, caressing her softly. Sera responded with soft moans, a sound he felt in the depths of his being, urging him on.
As passion thickened the air, Mingyu's urgency grew. He quickly shed his pants and retrieved a condom from the drawer, his determination evident. Positioning himself at her entrance, he locked eyes with her, seeking her silent permission as he began to enter her slowly, their lips brushing together in a tumultuous dance.
With each thrust, a primal intensity enveloped them both. Moments turned to a haze of sweat and ecstasy—Mingyu transformed, becoming both lover and beast, a force of nature that left Sera breathless beneath him. "Ah, fuck," she gasped, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.
As they reached the precipice of their desires, Mingyu shifted her position, bending her over the table. Sera felt the cool surface against her skin, a stark contrast to the fervent heat igniting in her core. "Sera-ah," he moaned, hands gripping her waist, driving deeper with each rhythm.
Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, the tempo rising as their breaths grew heavier. Mingyu sensed the climax approaching, a rush of exhilaration. With one final thrust, he pulled out, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he released onto her skin. At that moment, time seemed to suspend—their eyes met, and Sera's gaze sparkled with an innocent allure as she too reached her peak, a beautiful symphony shared between them.
-----------------------------
As the steam from the bathroom lingered in the air, Mingyu stepped out of the shower, water droplets cascading down his toned frame. The casual, effortless nature of his appearance was endearing, yet it evoked an unexpected shyness in him.
"Don't look at me like that," he said, a playful edge to his voice, as he caught Sera's gaze from across the room.
Wiping her hair with a towel, Sera chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Whoa, look at you getting shy after all this," she teased.
----------------------------------
Two weeks had flown by since that steamy night in the hotel room. And in the aftermath of their passionate escapade, Sera had become a frequent visitor to Mingyu's room. With Joo Hyuk often occupied with his part time job, the two had explored the thrilling dynamics of secrecy, indulging in their hidden desires whenever the opportunity arose. Each rendezvous was charged with excitement—a dance of passion that ignited every corner of Mingyu's otherwise mundane days.
Today, however, was different. Mingyu was on a mission to pick up his best friend, Wonwoo, from the airport.
As he arrived at the bustling airport, he spotted Wonwoo making his way through the terminal.
"Brother!" Mingyu called out, his face lighting up in a broad smile as they both rushed to embrace each other. It felt good, the familiar warmth of friendship rekindled after a few months apart. "Missed ya," Mingyu said, clapping Wonwoo on the back before helping him with his luggage.
"Why did you only call me to pick you up?" Mingyu probed as they loaded the bags into the car's trunk, genuinely curious about his friend's whirlwind life abroad.
"Mom and Dad's 30th anniversary is coming up, and I want to give them a surprise," Wonwoo replied, excitement bubbling over in his voice. It was classic Wonwoo—thoughtful and family-oriented, proud of planning something truly special.
Once settled into the Uber, the chaotic energy of the ride kicked in. Wonwoo dove into a barrage of stories about living abroad—the food, the people, the experiences—but amidst the laughter and reminiscing, he posed an unexpected question that made Mingyu's heart race for an entirely different reason.
"Ah, by the way, do you know which jerk is dating my sister?" Wonwoo asked, casually leaning back in his seat. The smoothness of his nonchalant tone did not betray the depth of the question.
Mingyu felt the color drain from his face. Coughing splutteringly, he quickly grabbed the water bottle beside him to take a sip—a feeble attempt to mask his reaction.
"Like, two weeks ago, I saw my credit card was used to bill at a hotel—the same card I had given to my sister," Wonwoo continued, his voice laced with incredulity. Mingyu's heart raced again. If only he knew...
"You know it would've been better if you were dating my sister, can't trust her with the jerks nowadays", Wonwoo casually said.
The neurological pathways of panic ignited as Mingyu choked once more on his drink, causing a cascade of water to spill across the upholstery of the Uber. The driver shot a frustrated look through the rearview mirror, and Mingyu hastily apologized while trying to wipe away the mess with his sleeve.
#mingyu smut#seventeen#seventeen smut#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#minghao smut#seungcheol fanfic#mingyu x reader#mingyu fanfic#bts fanfic#jjk smut#seventeen scenarios
551 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Final Part ]
AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon Targaryen x Little Sis! Reader prompt: Aegon would do anything, if it meant killing every ratcatcher or gold cloak in the city, he'd so. word count: 1, 000+ words
You wept and wept. Aegon feared that you would never be able to stop. Helaena was no better, locking herself up and shutting down. The two of you spiraled into madness and tears. It only made him drink and rage more. He hated to see you cry. You were supposed to be the happy one out of all of your siblings.
Aegon was the drunken mess, needing to be put in line. Helaena was the odd one, in a dream-like state. You were the perfect little angel, his perfect little angel. Aemond was the brooding one, face pulled into a stupid brooding look. Daeron was the forgotten one.
Now you were the broken one. Rhaenyra has stolen your smile. Rhaenyra had stolen his perfect little angel from him. She took the good from you, leaving him with a broken mess. A mess he wasn't sure of how to repair. So, he was going to do what he did best. He was going to get even.
If Rhaenyra wanted to take the one good thing he had in his life from him. He was going to burn everything she cared about to ash. Even if it made him a monster in the eyes of his own Court. Because you were worth burning the world down.
Blood and Cheese. Blood was one of his men, or now a former man of the City Watch. Cheese was a rat-catcher. That's how they knew how to get into the Red Keep. They were paid to kill Aegon's son. The worst part of all it had to be the fact that your son was "just in the way". They had no reason to kill him. He wasn't the one they had been paid to kill. They just killed him because he was in the way of things.
Blinking back the tears in his eyes, Aegon stares at the club in his hand, the metal rusted and jagged. Blood's words confession ringing in his ears. They killed his son for a debt, but yours because they thought of him in the way. Collateral damage. That was your son was, fucking collateral damage. Nodding his head for a moment, he thought of not killing the man, just leaving him to rot. But, another part of him truly wanted to see him bleed.
"You killed my son. You killed my sister's whole world." Aegon states, his voice cold. "My sister's loved their son's. And you just killed them."
"The Seven will never forgive you for this." Blood blubber's out, "To kill me.."
"Ah, yes, but the Seven aren't here, now are they?" Aegon mocks, adjusting his grip on the club.
Motioning around the Black Cell's, there was nothing but the rats and darkness there. No one to hear Blood's screams. No one there to help. It was just Blood and Aegon. Alone. Looking at the jagged end of the club, Aegon brushes his thumb over it, seeing it was sharp enough to cut. Though it would not be smooth or painless.
"You can fuck with me all you want. You can beat me. You can mock me." Aegon states, "Do as you please to me and I can endure it."
Blood sobs, the chains around his arms and legs clanging and jiggling loudly. Mercy was below, Aegon now. Mercy was not shown to his son or yours. Why the fuck should he show it to Blood?
"See, my friend. The thing is, you made my sister's cry." Aegon's face goes deadly cold, "I don't like bastard's that make my sister's cry."
Bringing the metal club down onto the man's head, he doesn't stop, unable to stop thinking of you. The way you wept, sobs full of heartache. The way you clung onto him, the blood on your nightgown seeping into his own clothes. The way the bastard made you cry. The way the bastard made you feel so unsafe in your own home.
The way the bastard made you doubt him. The way the bastard made you think he was a liar. Feeling a hand grab onto his forearm, he's pulled out of his daze, now realizing the man was now dead. His head caved in a bloody mess. Dropping the club, he takes a step back, licking his lips. He can taste blood on it, though it was not his own.
A son for a son. A son for a son. A son for a son. They got there son. Now a debt was now owed, on behalf of your son. The cycle repeating over and over again. Lucerys died, Jaehaerys died in payment. Your son died, now Rhaenyra would die in payment.
"Your grace?" A kingsguard asks, "What shall we do with the body?"
"Feed him to the pig's. I have no desire for time or a hole to be wasted upon him." Aegon spits at the corpse for good measure.
Hearing the door to the chambers open, you couldn’t find the strength to get up from bed, clinging onto the blanket. You could still smell your son on it. He smelt of lemon cakes and mud. He always loved to steal the frosting off the lemon cakes, just like Aegon did. He was just a boy. He was innocent. Why him? Why? Feeling tears bubbling up, you did not wish to ponder on your son’s death. It forced you to think of the sounds of a head being sawed off.
Feeling the bed dip for a moment, you look over to see Aegon there, his doublet and breeches soaked in blood. Blood’s blood. Sniffling softly, Aegon leans over to you, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. It was comforting to be touched and tended to like this, like you were still a child and not a woman grown with responsibilities and duties. Like everything was still okay.
"It is done." He whispers, nodding his head.
You don’t say anything, not being able to find the right words. Even if you could, what would you say? “Oh, that is so amazing to hear from you, dear brother.” or some other bullshit.
"You have my word, I swear it upon my life. I will burn everything down that Rhaenyra loves." Aegon pledges, "From her favorite tailor to her favorite child. I will avenge your son, sister."
"Aegon.." You croak out, trying to find your voice.
"I will kill her myself. I’ll fucking feed her to my dragon.” He vows, “No one will remember the name Rhaenyra Targaryen, when I am done.”
“Aegon..” You try again, voice barely above a whisper.
"She'd be a fucking myth. She'll be a fucking ghost of the Red Keep. No, no, not even that. I won't even let her haunt the Red Keep."
He doesn’t hear you, clearly swept up in his plots and plans for revenge on your behalf. His words left not a drop of comfort.
“I will do anything that you ask of me. Just tell me what it is that you wish and I shall do it. I’ll kill whoever you wish⎯" He rambles on and on.
"Egg." You whisper, tears bubbling up.
The childhood nickname falling out of your lips naturally. You did not wish for grand words, for grand promises, or grand actions to be done in your name or favor. That was meaningless. Mayhaps when the grief dimmed, you would wish for revenge for your son. But, for now, at this moment. You just wanted your big brother to hug you. You wanted things to be back as they once were. Here you were just Y/n and he was just Aegon, your big brother. Not the King.
Feeling the tears bubble up more and more, you sniffle, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. You watch through teary eyes as he goes deadly still. You did not regret saying his old nickname. You just wanted to feel as safe and happy as you used to be in your childhood. You wanted to escape from the crushing reality that your son was dead and war was invincible now. Mayhaps it was childish. But, you wanted to be okay once more.
"Y/n.." He whispers, his face crumbling.
"Just hold me like you used to do." You whimper out, “Please.”
---
@lovelykhaleesiii
@fragileheartbeats
@nightvers
@zaldritzosrose
@lexi-anastasia-astra-luna
#house of the dragon#house of dragons#house of dragons x reader#house of the dragon x reader#hotd imagine#hotd imagines#aegon ii targaryen#hotd x reader#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii#aegon ii targaryen x reader#hotd aegon#king aegon#aegon the second#hotd#hotd season 2#hotd fanfic#hotd fic
910 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii so I thought of something that could maybe be good and thought I’d send a request for it. I was thinking something about what happens after the chicken shop date and how Amelia goes on her other date after and Billie is super jealous but the date sucks so she ends up texting Billie the whole time and Billie is still mad but Amelia begs her for another chance and talks her into meeting up after because she realizes she should have just stuck with Billie instead of going on another date and then they hook up. You could make it the reader instead of Amelia if you want I just love the storyline and how flirty and hot Billie was in that interview. For the sex I’d like dom Billie/strap/choking/orgasm denial/squirting if possible but just do your thing hahaha thank youuuh😘
𝜗𝜚 SHE CAN'T COMPARE
WARNINGS: SMUT, sorta angst(?), strap-on sex, choking, orgasm denial, degradation, squirting, dom/sub dynamics, meandom!billie, brattysub!reader.
NOTES: okay woah guys i actually finished this quite fast..
WORDS: 6.2k
SUMMARY: During your "date" with Billie, you accidently let it slip that you have another date after this. However, you can't get the argument out of your head, leading you right back to Billie.
TAGS: @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie
BILLIE EILISH × F!READER
"I'm actually going on a date after this." You blurt with a smile on your face as you take a sip of your drink. When you see Billie's face drop, you almost choke on the liquid, "Sorry."
Billie just crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair as she stares at you with those intimidating eyes of hers, "What the hell?" She chuckles, glancing at the camera. She didn't look irritated, but you knew damn well that she was.
With all the playful flirting behind the scenes and the soft, quick touches, it wasn't hard to miss that she had at least some interest in you. And it wasn't weird because you've been friends for quite some time before you finally had the courage to ask her to be on the show.
For a few moments, all that consumed the room was silence. Tense silence, to be exact. Billie's gaze spoke to you like nobody's ever did, and somehow, you knew exactly how she was feeling. You bite your lip nervously, eyes moving away from hers as it becomes too much.
"That—it—I didn't mean to say that." You stutter awkwardly, a coy smile on your face for the camera. The whole crew was still here, and you really hoped they didn't notice what was going on between the two of you, "Just a thought I didn't mean to blurt out."
Billie nods her head, "Well, you sure did." She scoffs, sounding more as a laugh to distract the camera crew and the people who would see this when it came out. She tilted her head as you took another sip of your drink to wash away the dryness of your throat.
"Right—shit—Sorry?" You mutter in an apologetic tone, leaning back in your chair to make a little more distance between your bodies. The table didn't even seem to create distance at this point. Her eyes were trained on yours, but yours were nervously tracing the pattern on the tablecloth.
Billie rolls her eyes playfully at your response, fixing her posture and sitting up straight, "So—You're goin' on an actual date after this?" She asks, both literally and just for the cameras. More literally, but nobody has to know.
"No—Billie, it's—This is a real date." You smile, trying to lighten the mood as you giggle softly at her jealousy. She was intimidating, but God, was she childish when she got like this, "I meant like a friend... date. With my girlfriends." You mutter, watching as an amused smile comes to Billie's face.
"Oh, so now you have girlfriends?" She scoffs, tone playful, shaking her head softly as she licks her lips. She adjusts her hat, muttering something too quiet for the microphone to pick up as she reaches for a fry.
You just stay silent, thinking of anything you could say that would change the topic. She was only teasing you now, clearly, "I'm actually just going home right after this. Maybe with you, even." You smile, watching as Billie raises an eyebrow at your harmless flirting.
"But you don't wanna stand up the lucky girl, do ya?" Billie questions, seemingly a joke to the camera, but hitting you very hard in reality. She shifts in her seat again, eyes dragging along your body and silently praying that it wouldn't be caught on camera.
You shake your head as you hopelessly stutter your reply, "I—no—there's no date after this. It was a joke." You play it off terribly, mentally cursing yourself for even blurting the stupid words in the first place, "Y'know, you're really hitting me hard and soft with these replies."
Billie's lips part at your word play on her new album, nodding her head as she chuckles, "Well, maybe next time, don't bring up your other date." She teases. When you glance into her eyes, you can tell exactly what she's thinking. And it's anything but sweet.
"Billie, there's no—I don't have a date, forget I even said that!" You shush, rolling your eyes at her as you take the last sip of your drink. Billie just shrugs nonchalantly, hiding her true emotions as she bites her lip, "Okay."
The camera equipment is slowly getting put away and hauled into the back of some moving van. But, you and Billie are still sitting at the same table you were in the interview. It was getting dark, and you did, in fact, have a real date that you had to be at soon.
Billie stays quiet, finishing up her food and stealing glances at you every now and then. Her thoughts are all over the place, jealousy pumping through her veins as the hand in her lap grips her jeans roughly. Her eyes snap up to yours right when you decide to finally look at her.
"What's her name?" Billie mutters, face even more stern than before when you were both being recorded. Now, she could finally express herself with words that didn't sound light-hearted, "Your date, I mean." She states, taking the last fry into her mouth and waiting for your reply.
You stay silent, almost dumbfounded, that she was still stuck on that topic. It'd been almost an hour and a half since you had that conversation, and yet it was still lingering in the air. A forced chuckle emits from your throat as you sit up straight, "Ms. None-of-your-concern."
Billie perks up at your response, cocking an eyebrow at your words. She'd never seen this side of you, and you really should've known that right now was not the time nor place for you to show her it, "Don't gimme that shit right now. You're acting like a child."
"Yeah, well, were you not acting the same while the cameras were rolling?" You retort, furrowing your eyebrows as the smile on your face slowly fades. She just scoffs in response, rolling her eyes she breathes out some stupid argument.
Your leg bounces beneath the table, mind racing as you check the time. You only had about an hour before your real date, and God, did you want to get away from Billie sooner. You can still feel her eyes burning holes through you, but you pay her no mind, huffing quietly in exasperation.
Billie notices the way you check your phone every few minutes, and it only annoys her further each time she catches you, "Better hurry up. Bet she wants to take you home later tonight, maybe even fuck—"
"Fuck you." You scoff, moving back in the chair as the screeching noise reverberates around the small, empty restaurant. You swiftly grab your jacket before storming out, leaving Billie alone in her seat, fuming.
"But your date's already gonna do that!" She calls angrily, hands clenched into fists as she watches the door slam behind you loudly. Her eyes stay on the glass for a moment longer, almost waiting for you to come back. But, you never do, so she just sits in silence.
Her head lolls back as she closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath before she huffs out in frustration. Sure, maybe she was in the wrong, but who's to say you weren't as well? You knew how jealous she got. Each time she had a crush, she'd always run to you to complain about their ex's, never hiding her jealousy. And she was sure you didn't forget, you just knew how to push her buttons.
Quiet footsteps caught her attention, head turning in the direction of the kitchen, only to find the owner of the small restaurant approaching her, "We're closing soon, ma'am." He says, the tiredness clear in his tone and eyes. Billie just nods, humming quietly as she grabs her stuff and throws it away on her way out.
The lights hanging above you dimly lit the table and the girl across the table from you, highlighting her ocean blue eyes, quite like Billie's mesmerizing ones—No.
You shift in your seat as you listen to her, nodding at almost each word she says in an effort to seem like you were really listening. But, in reality, all you could hear was the chatter of other people seated around you. All you could even think about was what happened earlier that evening, at the restaurant with Billie.
Maybe that was the one thing that was distracting you, the one thing that made you think this date was going horribly. The girl wasn't even boring or an asshole. She was sweet and genuinely interesting. You just didn't know what was wrong with yourself.
You smile softly as you notice she's stopped talking, toying with the food on your plate, your fork twirling the pasta around it but not exactly bringing it to your lips to eat it. You'd lost your appetite, and you knew it wasn't from the food you ate a few hours prior to this.
"You okay?" She asks, and that's the one thing that pulls you out of your thoughts, eyes snapping to hers. They were swelling with concern, and so was her facial expression. God, you were really blowing it. Maybe you were the asshole.
The fork leaves your hand, clattering against the plate softly as you nod in response, "Yeah, I'm sorry. I just—Need to use the restroom real quick." You mutter, an apologetic look in your eyes as you stare into hers. You knew yourself that you wouldn't come back, so you didn't even bother promising it, instead just smiling at her before quickly rushing to the restrooms.
When you're out of her sight, you grab your phone from your bag, unlocking it as you open the door to the women's bathroom, making your way down to the furthest stall from the door and locking yourself in.
You click the first pinned contact, not even needing to look at who it is before you begin typing, leaning against the tiles of the bathroom wall.
y/n: hey
You bite your lip as you patiently wait for her response, muttering something along the lines of, "Please don't be mad at me, please don't be mad at me, please—."
When the three little dots show up, you let out a breath you hadn't even known you were holding, gripping your phone tighter as your eyes dart all around the screen.
billie: thought u were at ur date?
y/n: bored
y/n: cant stop thinking about our fight
y/n: you keep distracting me. idiot
You can almost feel her own emotions through the device. That sexy chuckle of hers imprinted in your mind. She gives your last text a thumbs down, and then the three little dots begin to bounce again.
billie: good to know im still on your mind tho
billie: also thats not even my fault??? js stop thinking of me then youll be okay ��♀️
y/n: kinda hard when you teased me the entire fucking interview
y/n: even off camera dude like wtf
Billie shifts on her couch, your words making her heart swell with pride. Even if you did piss her off, she was still happy she was on your mind. But, really, when wasn't she floating around somewhere in there?
billie: sorry for being me, damn
billie: also wtf why are you skipping over that shit that you did at the restaurant?
billie: like ok tell me you have another date after i was clearly flirting with you fr the entire interview
Her lip was tucked between her teeth harshly, biting down almost hard enough to draw blood as she watched the dots begin to bounce in the small grey bubble again.
When you finally sent the text, her facial expression softened.
y/n: im really sorry billie. i didnt know it would hurt you, it wasnt my intention
billie: huh
billie: well it sure as hell seemed like it was
You sigh quietly as your eyes scan over her texts over and over again. Fuck, why did she have to be stubborn?
Your thumbs quickly begin to work on the screen, typing out an almost pathetic apology. No—It wasn't even an apology—It was more of a stupid text begging her to forgive you.
y/n: im really sorry bills
y/n: i dont want us to fight. please
y/n: i didnt even want to come here after it
y/n: you know i hate when ur mad at me
y/n: ill apologize to u a million times more if thats what u want
Her heart beats faster, and she swears it might pop out of her chest any moment now. Her thumbs quickly type out a response, a stupid smile coming onto her face.
billie: dont
y/n: well can you at least pick me up cus u were being an asshole too
y/n: pls can you pick me up i really dont wanna see the look on the poor girls face when she finds me in this bathroom stall texting u
billie: idk i might js make you wait 30 mins so she can find u in there
Your eyes roll at her texts, scoffing at her responses. She was so difficult, and you hated her for it.
billie: hurry to the front im omw dummy
A smile quickly comes onto your face as you read the last text, almost squealing until you remember that she wouldn't be easy when you got in the car. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night.
The car pulls up slowly in the front of the restaurant, and you glance back one final time at the windows before scurrying off the sidewalk and jumping into the passenger seat of Billie's car.
She doesn't even wait for you to put your seatbelt on, quickly driving forward to exit the parking lot of the place. Her eyes trace your side profile as she waits for cars to pass, her gaze going unnoticed as you buckle your seatbelt.
"Have fun?" She mutters quietly, jealousy bubbling underneath her skin and seeping through in her tone as her eyes avert back to the road. You turn your head at her words, sighing in annoyance. She was still going on about it.
Your cross your arms over your chest as you look out of the windshield at the cars passing by, feeling her car jolt forward as she gets onto the main road, "If I did, I wouldn't have texted you, idiot."
Billie scoffs at your name-calling, rolling her eyes as she presses on the breaks at a red light. She takes the chance to look at you again, eyes traveling lower this time and catching onto your change of clothes.
You were wearing a short black dress, the neck cutting low and exposing some of your cleavage. She would've pounced on you right then and there if it wasn't for the traffic behind her. And also if she wasn't still so fucking furious at you.
Her own choice of clothing was the complete opposite of whatever slutty piece of cloth you were wearing, her sweatpants hanging low on her waist and exposing the waistband of her 'HIT ME HARD AND SOFT' boxers.
When the light turned green, it was your turn to admire stare. On her top half, she was wearing a little white tank, the straps thin and almost slipping off her shoulders each time she moved her arms to turn the wheel.
Her nipples were poking through the thin tank, and it felt almost impossible to look away. Until she spoke and you got too nervous to keep staring, "Well, I still wanna know how it went."
Liar. She was only talking about it so that you wouldn't forget the deep shit you were in when you got to your house. Or maybe her house? You didn't know, and you honestly didn't want to. You wouldn't bother asking, either, not wanting to hear the whole, 'why did you change the topic?' rant.
"It was good, actually." You murmur, an idea sparking in your head as you glance at her face again. You can practically see the way her eyes twitches in annoyance, and it only spurs you on to say your next words, "She was so sweet, and she cared a lot. I could tell just by her pretty eyes."
Billie has to stop herself from slamming on the breaks in the middle of the road, instead deciding to breathe in deeply and bite her lip. Her grip on the steering wheel increases in tightness, tilting her head to the side like she always did when she was infuriated.
"Yeah?" She seethes, cocking an eyebrow as she takes another quick glance at you. She catches a glimpse of that stupid smile on your face, and it only makes her angrier. You hum in response.
"Yeah." You reply, giggling quietly as you watch her knuckles turn white from the grip she has on the wheel. She presses down on the gas harder, and the car only accelerates faster down the route to her house, "Flirted with me the entire time, asked me if I needed anything. She even pulled out my chair for me."
Billie nods almost robotically, like she's being forced to listen to you brag about the girl. Because she is. She can't just jump out of the car into the road, even if she really did want to in that moment.
"That's—Yeah, that's nice." She mutters, jaw clenched. Even if you had only said a few sentences about no-name-girl, she was tired of it already. She only started the conversation to maybe undermine you? She didn't even know anymore, all she knew was that she was going to die if you kept talking about this girl.
"And—" Billie couldn't turn onto the street to her house fast enough, speeding down the road as she tried to drown you out. Her eyes burned holes through you, specifically your chest. She didn't understand why you chose to wear that revealing dress for that stupid girl and not for her.
She pulled into the driveway quickly, turning her key and pulling it out after putting the car in park. Her hands rested in her lap as she threw her head back against the headrest, eyes shutting softly as she breathed out.
"Stay there." She whispered, getting out of the car and slamming it with a loud thud. Your eyes followed her as she rounded the car, gaze coming down to see her sweatpants falling down only a little further.
She opened your own door before you could. It made her crazy when you even tried to open it by yourself, so even if she was pissed, she'd never forget to open it for you. When you exited her car, she slammed your door and locked the car, following behind you to the front door.
You type in her code proudly, reaching for the door handle but quickly being swatted away by her own ring-clad hand. You laugh at her gestures, watching as she opens the door for you and lets you go in first.
She's silent the whole time. Even as she closes and locks the door behind her, no words slip from between her lips, only gentle breaths as she rubs her temples. Her eyes basically undress you as you walk down the hall and throw your bag onto her couch, heart beating faster and faster as the seconds pass by.
Her vision is blurred as she follows after your footsteps, time seeming to slow as she looks around at the pictures hanging on the walls. When she finally makes it into the living room, you're sitting down on the couch, legs spread like you owned the place.
And, honestly, it seemed like it after being here 24/7. You even convinced Billie into giving you a key with no hesitation on her part. She grips onto the wall harshly, holding herself up as her eyes take in all that was you. Your scent already fills the room, making her head spin and blurring her vision further.
Her other hand rests inside of her pants, the action normal because of how abnormally cold she always was. But, this time, you see her hand moving beneath the fabric in a repeated motion. Like she's stroking something.
Your lips curve into a smirk at the sides, sitting up taller as you realize. She only comes closer, now leaning against the far end of the couch across from you.
"Thought you were mad." You hum, tilting your head in imitation. You cross your legs, hands running along your thighs through the fabric and making your dress ride up. Billie groans quietly, gaze fixed sternly on you.
A few more steps, and now her hand is holding herself up on the couch cushion you were sitting on. Her lips almost touch your earlobe, breathing on your neck as her small smirk fades. She scoffs, her other hand slowly creeping onto your thigh and squeezing, "I'm fucking furious."
You smile at her words, gasping softly as she squeezes your thigh tighter. She leans back, lips level to yours as her eyes flit down to them, then back up to your beautiful eyes. You're the first one to close the gap, grabbing her face and practically pulling her onto your lap, your lips fitting onto hers so perfectly.
Her hands moved to your hips, quickly flipping your positions so that you were on top of her. As you sat on her lap, you could feel the bulge beneath her sweatpants poking at your thigh, causing an amused smile to creep onto your face, "Predicted this, huh?"
"Shut up." She grumbles, ring-clad fingers wrapping around your neck and smashing your lips onto hers. Your hips slowly grind on her sweatpants, moaning quietly against her mouth as your hands grip at her shoulders, nails digging into her skin.
Billie groans at the subtle pain, pushing her hips up when she feels you begin to rock back and forth on her lap. Her free hand moves down to undo the tie of her sweatpants, finding it difficult with only one hand and her eyes closed, "Ma, take 'em off f'me, would you?"
You don't hesitate, the need to tease her thrown out of the window. For now, at least. Your hands leave her shoulders quickly, pulling away from her lips with hesitancy as you look down to see what you're doing. Billie's eyes are on you the whole time, biting her lip as she feels you tug down her sweatpants and let them pool at her ankles.
Billie bucks her hips against you, and this time, it's like you can feel everything. Your lips part in surprise at her sudden movement, a quiet squeak emitting from your throat at how big her dick feels.
"Gonna sit and stare, or are you gonna take it off?" Billie sighs, her patience wearing thinner than before. It didn't help that you were still fully clothed, either. Her hands leave your neck and hip, moving behind and messing with the zipper of the skimpy black dress that adorns your beautiful body, pulling it down until you could easily slip out of it.
You crawl off her lap, eyes hooded and full of desire as you slowly strip for her. Her hands grip the couch cushions tightly, holding herself back from even saying anything that would elicit a snarky response from your part.
The dress falls to the floor, revealing your naked figure to her. She wanted so bad to call you a slut for not wearing any undergarments, to degrade you until you broke beneath her and finally gave in. But she stayed silent, instead taking in your mind-consuming presence.
When you came closer and dropped to your knees in front of her, she bit her lip. Her hands and thighs trembled as you rested your cheek on the inner part of her thigh, leaving a wet kiss on the bulge in her boxers before you grabbed the waistband of the constricting fabric with your teeth. Her breaths were short and ragged, eyes wide as she watched the silicone cock spring free.
Once her boxers were at her ankles, your eyes found hers again, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you came closer. Your lips hovered over the tip of her dick, spitting on it before your hand came up to stroke it softly, thumb rubbing at the tip as if she could actually feel it.
"Get up." She breathed, eyes locked on yours as you continued to stroke your hand up and down her dick, listening carefully to each quiet sound that she made, whether it be a whimper or a real moan, "Y/N, fuckin' listen." It was a clear warning, the way her tone changed just an octave lower, a very prominent warning that she wasn't gonna be easy if you disobeyed her again.
But, still, you stayed on your knees in front of her, your hand rubbing the silicone quicker. And, as much as she liked the way you looked on your knees, her hand quickly came down to grab a handful of your hair, tugging at it harshly in yet another warning.
This time, you listened, nodding softly as your hand left her cock, rising to your feet in front of her. Her hand left your hair as you moved up, standing up and stepping out of her sweatpants and boxers, kicking off her shoes and leaving her in only socks and that thin tank top barely covering anything.
"Want you on the bed, Y/N." She demands softly, eyes hooded and irises swirling with lust and anger. You nod, biting your lip as your eyes fall lower on her body, chuckling quietly as you see the fake dick standing tall between her thighs, "And don't make me fucking tell you again." She snarls.
You nod again once her words register in your head, your feet taking you down the hallway and into her room at the end of it. You shut the door behind you softly, scurrying onto the bed and seating yourself in the middle of it, back against the headboard and legs spread just for when she came back.
The time seems to pass way slower as you shift on her dark sheets, your lower back leaning against the pillows that she slept on each night. The room smelled heavily of Billie, her perfume filling all your senses and going straight to your core. This wasn't where you expected to end up tonight at all, but you weren't against it.
The creaking sound of the door is what catches your attention, finding yourself sitting up taller and gripping at the sheets. Billie pushes the door open slowly, hair up in a low ponytail, her tank top gone and revealing her tits.
You're unable to suppress a whine as she comes closer, locking the door behind her and only making you squeeze your thighs together, bucking your hips against nothing but the cool air in the room.
She moves so quickly that it should've been considered inhumane, her hands touching you everywhere all at once. Her hair tickles your shoulder as she tilts her head, lips pressing against your neck so softly as her hands grip at your tits so roughly. Her knee is slotted between your thighs, pressed harshly against your wet pussy and feeling every movement you make.
"She wouldn't kiss you like this," Billie whispers, biting at the sensitive spot just behind your ear, feeling as your body tenses beneath her, throat dry, and lips agape to let out all the pretty noises she was the cause of, "Only me." She finishes her sentence, moving to another part of your neck to scatter kisses and marks anywhere she possibly could.
Her thumbs circle your nipples, nails leaving soft indentations as she tries her hardest not to go absolutely insane on you. Just the thought of that girl fired her up, urging her to just ruin you first and then take it slow. But the bratty attitude you had all day only encouraged her to tease you, break you slowly, and then fuck you hard and rough until you were unable to say anything but her name, "I'm right?" She breathes, kissing your collarbone as she descends your body.
Her teeth nibble at the skin just above your tits, leaving hickeys in the shape of a heart slowly but surely. All you can do is nod in response, body reacting so eagerly to her teasing touches and kisses. She was driving you insane, but if you said anything, she'd only take it slower. It was torture.
"Answer me." Billie demands, biting down particularly hard just above your nipple, smirking against your skin as she hears you yelp softly. It's almost like she can feel your heartbeat on her lips, her head spinning with every idea of what she wanted to do with you tonight, "You were very keen to the idea of fuckin' smart-mouthing me during that interview. In front of people, too?"
"God, you just can't stand being good for more than 5 minutes, can you?" She scoffs softly, voice teasing and playful, but her words were real. She meant everything, and you knew that very well. Her lips wrapped around your nipple when she felt your fingers in her hair, tangling in the dark strands and pulling weakly. You whined at her degrading words, her knee hitting your clit perfectly as you rocked your hips sloppily.
"Bills—Only you, j-jus' you," you confirm, your voice merely a mewl in her ears, but to you, it was using all of the strength you currently had, trembling beneath Billie even though she's barely even touched you yet, "Please..." You beg, eyes fluttering shut as you find the perfect spot on her knee to grind on, hips moving faster.
Billie moves to your other nipple, sucking harshly and nibbling at the erect bud as her hands caress your thighs, nails scratching up and down your skin and making your thighs tremble just that little bit more. She releases your nipple from between her lips with a pop, now hovering over your face, removing her knee from between your legs, guessing knowing that you were close, "Please, what?"
"F-fuck me, Billie—Please—Jus'.. mm." You stumble over your words, mind scattered and unable to say anything to form a real sentence. Billie understands, though, a cocky smirk on her face as she moves her hand to one side of your body, holding herself up as her other hand pulls your thighs apart, lining her cock up with your entrance before she pushes it all in at once.
Your quiet cries are music to her ears, your trembling body cute and meek. Her hand leaves the silicone dick, traveling up your body and leaving a trail of fire up to your neck where she wraps her fingers around your throat, applying more pressure than you thought she would. You gasp quietly, the action only making the whole situation hotter and more intimate. She tilts her head, "You like that, don't you?"
You nod the best you can, whimpering softly as she slowly thrusts her hips, eyes examining your every movement from the way your chest rose and fell with the ragged breaths you took to the way your eyes fluttered each time her dick rubbed you in just the right way. Pathetic pleas for her to go faster slip from your lips, toes curling at her torturously slow pace, hands fisting at the sheets messily.
"Pleasepleaseplease—faster.." Billie's grip on your throat tightens at your words, eyebrows furrowing as she watches your eyes roll back, "Want me deeper, yeah?" She mocks, the fire in her lower abdomen growing as she sees you nod frantically, her hips already slamming into you almost twice as fast than she was fucking you before.
She leans closer to your neck, inhaling your scent and smelling her own perfume on your skin. A chuckle fills your ear, only making you moan louder, the whiny sound reverberating off the walls. Your back arches, chest coming up to brush against hers as you writhe beneath her relentless pace. Grunts fill your ears as she finds the perfect rhythm, muttering the dirtiest things in your ear imaginable. The words she was spitting should've cut deep, but they didn't, only adding to your pleasure and making you physically react.
As you squeeze your eyes shut, you see stars flash behind your eyelids, her strap hitting that sweet spot each time she thrusts into you. Your knuckles are white from the animalistic grip you have on her sheets, your orgasm approaching quicker than you could've imagined. Billie doesn't miss the way your breathing pattern changes, feeling it on her chest and hearing it 10x louder now that your head was turned slightly to the side, "Bill—Baby, fuuckk... plea—!"
"Hm?—Tell me, Mama, tell me." She mutters, almost begging you as her hips slap against yours each time she fully bottoms out. An evil smile is plastered on her face, but you don't know that. You don't even know what she'll say in response to your pleas to cum. But, you honestly don't think you'd be able to hold it either way, "Too fucked out to speak, s'that it? Can't even think, can ya? My dumb girl."
"Cum—Wanna cum, please, need t'cum!" You warn, your voice a mere squeak as you pull at the sheets. Tears streak down your face now, her silence making it impossible for you to keep whatever composure you had left. Billie breathes softly into your neck, kissing your shoulder before coming up to press a sweet kiss to your neck. Much sweeter than the words that fall from between her lips, "I think you can wait, hm? Since you made me wait so fuckin' long for this." She shakes her head in faux disappoint, scoffing.
"Hold it." She snarls, eyes narrow, lips parted and swollen, hips relentless. The headboard hit the wall in time with her hips, bedframe creaking beneath your bodies as she fucks you wildly, making it impossible to obey her commands. You try to squeeze your thighs together, but she doesn't let them close, sighing in annoyance as she gives your throat a warning squeeze, having you gasp for air, "Just a little longer." She groans, almost like she can feel the way your pussy clenches around her dick, walls fluttering from the immense pleasure.
Cries and whines are the only things that can leave your throat, dry from the screaming and moaning you've been doing for almost—Fuck, you didn't even know at this point. All you did know was the size of her dick, the sounds of her groans, and the look on her face as she fucked you recklessly. The bed shook, and you were sure her neighbors would be here in the morning to complain about the noises, but neither of you cared. The only thing either of you cared about was that you finally had each other.
Your vision blurs from the tears in your eyes, trying your best to keep them open but failing in the end as she pushes her body closer to yours—if that was even possible—and hits you at a different angle, the silicone cock sliding deeper between your walls. She's almost surprised at how well you're holding up, a smirk on her face as she tries her hardest to break you, free hand pulling and twisting at your nipple as her other squeezes your throat from time to time.
"Cum." She finally allows. It takes you a moment to register, but once you see her head nod in your blurred vision, you let go. The light, wet ring around the base of the dick only gets whiter as your juices flow onto her, squirting onto your thighs and parts of hers as your body shakes uncontrollably beneath hers. Your back arches further, chest pressing harsher against hers as you cry out her name, lower lip trembling, "Thankyouthankyouthankyou—Mm.." Your words come out in a hurry, thoughts messy and incapable of forming any other words.
Her hips slow, helping you ride out your high before she stops completely. She leans over you, fingers unraveling around your neck and coming up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your tear-stained cheek with a look of adoration in her ocean blue irises, "Y'think she'd be able to do that?" She teases, giggling softly at your mumbled words, your eyelids fluttering open and closed, clearly sleepy.
"Shh.." You giggle stupidly, pushing her face away weakly. You gasp quietly when you feel her pull out slowly, wincing at the slightly overstimulating feeling. The emptiness makes you frown, whining like a baby as she pulls away from your body completely, "No, no, Ma, m'right here." She coos as she comes back into your blurry vision, strap discarded somewhere on the floor. Her hands wrap around your body, enveloping you in warmth as she cuddles close to you, "She can't compare." Billie whispers, knowing damn well she won the stupid challenge that she made up.
#billie eilish#billie eilish x reader smut#billie eilish x fem!reader#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish x y/n#billie eilish x you#billie eilish imagine#billie eilish fanfic#billie eilish fanfiction#billie eilish smut#billie eilish blurb#billie eilish oneshot#billie eilish songs#billie eilish icons#billie#hmhas#hit me hard and soft#hte#happier than ever#wwafawdwg#when we all fall asleep where do we go#dsam#dont smile at me
631 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞
pairing: gn!reader x atsumu miya
note: repost from my old blog 𐚁
When Atsumu walks in, his eyes instantly land on you, and the first thing he thinks is “woah… pretty”. He stares for a second—until he realizes what he’s doing and shakes his head to clear his mind. He doesn’t want to come off as a creep, but he can’t stop his eyes from straying back to you. And when he hears your voice when you talk to your coworker? Whew.
He tries his best to behave normally while waiting in line, he really does. He simply fails miserably at it. And it’s not like his usual behavior is what one would consider ‘normal’, being the drama king he is.
Atsumu purses his lips, deep in thought. He’s wondering what the best approach would be. Maybe flash one of his winning smiles at you? Nah, too basic. Or maybe he should make the face. You know the one, eyebrow slightly cocked, head tilted to the side a little, narrowed eyes. Maybe he’d even bite his lip. No, nope. He just remembered someone told him that was a 'fuckboy face'.
Before he even realizes it, you’re staring directly into his eyes. He hesitates, taken aback. They’re so pretty, especially up close. There’s just something about them. Atsumu’s sure they’ll pop up in his dreams once or twice. At least he hopes so.
“Welcome! What can I get you today?” you say, sounding just a little bit tired.
He likes it, in a way. The fact that you don’t hide behind a cheery persona that's obviously fake. Well, technically you should —customer service and all that—, but you still sound nice enough that he doesn’t mind. He likes the sincerity in your voice.
And when you blink up at him, he realizes he’s staring. Again.
Atsumu clears his throat, plastering a bright smile on his face and leaning forward a little, resting his hands on the counter. That just makes him take a closer look at your eyes and — oh, boy. He thinks he might be in love.
“Hi, um… I’d like a Macchiato — medium size, please, and a… Turkey Pesto Panini,” he orders.
You hum, typing on the register and taking an empty medium cup from the small tower of them in front of you.
“Will that be all?” you ask, Sharpie in hand.
“Actually, if you could add your phone number to that, please,” he adds, then smiles innocently. “And thank you.”
Your brow creases lightly, although the amused smile on your lips reassures him that you’re not actually mad.
“You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?” you cock an eyebrow, resting a hand on your hip.
“That’s cuz I am.” He gives a playful shrug, smiling a little brighter at you.
“Well, I’m afraid that’s not on the menu, sir.”
Atsumu feels butterflies in his stomach when you call him that. It sounds so good, so sweet… even though you’re looking at him like you want him to leave already. But it’s just that — ugh, your voice. Is he in heaven? He must be.
“Hmm, pity,” he mumbles, pressing his index finger against his lips.
“What’s your name?”
He perks up. Are you flirting with him? Is that what’s— oh. He notices you readying the Sharpie to write his name on the plastic cup. Right. But Atsumu still thinks it’s not too late to shoot his shot.
“You can call me yours.”
You give him a deadpan look.
“Seriously. That’s the best you could come up with?” You grimace a little, lowering the cup.
Atsumu deflates visibly, blowing a puff of air through his lips.
“Hey, c'mon. A guy is trying.”
You raise your eyebrows, almost laughing at his honesty. You can’t deny it, he’s cute. Like, really cute. And he doesn’t seem like a complete jerk, even if his pick up lines certainly aren’t the best.
“Kudos for your effort. I’ll admit your jacket’s pretty cool, though,” you concede, if only to give him something.
Also, you can’t deny you like the way his eyes seem to light up a little after your words.
“Ya like it? It’s made of boyfriend material.” He winks.
Scratch that, his pick up lines suck. But he does manage to make you chuckle with that one, even if the reason is that it’s extremely ridiculous and silly. And Atsumu cheers up a little; he likes the sound of your laugh, and —yup, he’s definitely in heaven.
“Name,” you demand, pursing your lips.
Atsumu’s only thought is that he really wants to kiss you. But he knows a lost battle when he sees one, and he can’t afford to humiliate himself further. Osamu would never let him hear the end of it if he saw how badly he’s being rejected. He cringes at the thought, thanking god he decided to go alone.
“Atsumu,” he sighs in defeat.
“Great. What type of milk would you like for your drink?”
Atsumu wheezes almost inaudibly, averting his gaze as he presses his lips into a thin line. Because it’s a real struggle for him to keep his comments about ‘milk’ to himself. He figures it’s not the best thing to joke about if he hopes to have the slightest chance with you.
“Whole,” he stammers. “No, wait, 'm lactose intolerant. Uh, lactose free.” He grimaces.
“Will that be all?”
And now it’s Atsumu’s turn to purse his lips, thinking. And what he thinks is ‘screw it’.
“I don’t suppose I could add a date to that? You, me, and a delicious home cooked meal. I’m an excellent cook, you won’t regret it. Sounds good, huh?”
He’s lying, of course. He’d ask his brother for help, or maybe buy some take out and pretend he made it himself. It works in movies, surely he can do the same.
“No can do.” You shake your head softly, hiding the fact that you’re fighting a smile by looking down as you scribble his name on the cup. It seems to take you more time than he’d expect. “I could add another drink, though, if you’d like.”
“Okay, how about a Cinnamon Dolce Latte. Make it a large,” he murmurs, resting his elbow on the counter and placing his chin on the palm of his hand. You move to grab a large cup, pausing for a second when he speaks again. “That one’s for you, by the way. On me.”
And Atsumu feels giddy when you actually flash a smile his way. A real smile. You cock your head to the side, peering at him with curiosity.
“How’d you know?”
“I’m just good at reading people, I guess,” he shrugs nonchalantly, his suave demeanor faltering as you simply blink at him, entirely unimpressed. “Alright, fine, I heard you earlier saying you wanted one, I just- what’s- how much is it?”
Your gaze flickers briefly to the register, adding the large Cinnamon Dolce Latte to his tab. You suppress a smile by chewing on your lip, and Atsumu wishes you’d stop doing that because god, he really, really wants to kiss you right now.
“That’ll be $15.55, please,” you inform, swiping his Starbucks card. You take the money he’s offering you —Atsumu makes sure to brush his hand against yours, and you almost scoff because he wasn’t even subtle about it, he might as well just grab your whole hand and declare his undying love to you on the spot—, and you count the change and give it to him with a kind smile. “Here’s your change. Thank you. Your order will be given to you—”
“Be honest, though,” he interrupts you, leaning closer to you. You can feel your face feeling a little warmer at his proximity, but Atsumu doesn’t seem to notice. He aquints his eyes at you. “Didn’t it work? Like, not even a little bit?” he asks, pinching the air between his forefinger and thumb.
“Sir, you’re holding up the line,” is all you say.
Atsumu groans, throwing his head back in frustration. He actually stomps a little when he walks away, too busy throwing a tantrum that he can’t see nor hear you giggling at the counter. He also doesn’t hear when you ask your coworker to switch places with you so you can make his order.
He stuffs his change inside his wallet, folding his arms across his chest. Waiting for his drink, he stops himself from allowing his eyes to wander back to you. He can’t help it, you’re just… gorgeous. And, to be completely frank, he’s also gorgeous, and he thinks you’d make a great match.
He breathes out softly when you call out his name, biting the inside of his cheek as he walks over to retrieve his order. Muttering a low ‘thanks’, he takes his bagged panini and drink with slumped shoulders, walking out the store with gloomy attitude.
He takes a sip of his drink, coughing a little when he accidentally burns himself. He scowls at the cup — almost like he thinks it’s its fault rather than his. And his eyes widen in disbelief, because right under his name, there’s a phone number and a short note, which reads ‘I get off at 6 :)’
And he hoots in delight with a jump, and his bagged panini falls to the floor —although he picks it up hastily— because you even put a smiley face and everything. And he can’t help but notice that your handwriting is also really pretty, and it fits you. And Atsumu chuckles.
He pulls his phone out, searching for his brother’s contact. Yeah, yeah, Atsumu doesn’t know Osamu’s phone number by heart, but that’s what the contacts app is for, right?
“Samu, I need your help.”
#haikyuu#hq#atsumu miya#miya atsumu#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#atsumu fluff#atsumu miya fluff#miya atsumu fluff#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#hq x you#hq x reader#hq x y/n#atsumu x you#atsumu x reader#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x reader#miya atsumu x you#miya atsumu x reader
476 notes
·
View notes
Text
working it out (on the remix)
pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x fem!reader
summary: you sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. you should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t going to get the three of you anywhere.
—or: three tennis players walk into a hotel room.
word count: 5.5k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, smoking, fighting as foreplay, mean!reader my beloved, the patrick and art gay agenda, threesome, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!), not quite hate sex more like angry sex, double penetration, oral sex (m!receiving), choking, finger sucking, degradation, creampies, lowkey sub!patrick coded, switch!art ofc, porn with a plot, no use of y/n.
author’s note: oh em gee part three is here!!! i literally always say this but i had so much fun writing this one lol thank you so much for showing this series so much love right off the bat! i've loved loved loved reading all the ideas you guys have sent me for future chapters and trust when i say that i'll definitely be featuring as many as i can. okay bye! hope you love it! xoxo mwah.
tftw series masterlist!
Art is fuming. You keep glancing over at him to check that smoke isn't starting to blow out of his ears. It doesn't, but he's just as mad every time. Standing in the doorway huffing and puffing, arms crossed over his chest as he stares Patrick down from across the room.
Patrick is the complete opposite, all relaxed body language and easy half-smiles as he coolly stares back. You’d make a fire and ice joke if you didn’t think it would send Art over the edge.
He’s sitting in the room’s single chair, window cracked open so he can smoke. He’s practically naked, wearing an unbuttoned long sleeve and the tiniest boxers you’ve ever seen. His bare feet are propped up on the corner of the bed you’re sitting on.
You’re perched cross legged on the mattress, basically stuck in the middle of them.
You’re still surprised you even got Art to show up at all. You thought he almost flipped the table when you brought up Patrick at lunch, casually mentioning that you’ve been texting him for the past couple of days and you think the three of you need to talk. He was quiet for a long time before he finally asked if that meant Patrick was, has been, in town. You just shook your head yes.
You didn’t tell him you and Patrick slept together, you didn’t need to.
He went quiet again, stood up from his chair with an excuse of being late to class and stomped out of the dining hall. You texted him the address to Patrick’s hotel an hour later.
Art never responded, but his jeep was still waiting for you outside the biology building after your last lecture got out. He would always drive you back to your dorm since you’d get out so late, but this time he turned out of the campus lot and silently drove until you realized he was going to the hotel.
Now you’re here, and it's been almost ten minutes since you knocked on the door to Patrick’s room. And no one has said anything the entire time. No one has even moved, only Patrick every so often when he needs to flick his ashes out the window. A thick blanket of tense silence falls heavy over the three of you. It makes the room’s temperature feel that much hotter. The shitty air conditioner hums faintly in the background.
“So,” you say slowly, voice finally piercing through the quiet, “Am I gonna have to be the first to talk again or–”
“God, I don’t know,” Art cuts in tersely, not looking away from Patrick as he does, ”I can’t believe I don’t have anything to say to the guy that fucked my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Both you and Patrick ask sharply, opposing tones of shock and amusement blending together.
Art's eyes narrow, a storm brewing in the blue of them. He’s still looking at Patrick, talking about you like you’re not sitting right in front of him. "Yeah, my girlfriend. Did I stutter?" His chest is puffed out just enough for you to notice, his mouth pulled down at the corners in a deep frown.
You blink, caught off guard. Art’s never asked you to go steady with him, you’ve never even been on a date. Unless you count fucking in the back of his jeep at a drive in theater a date, then sure, you’ve been on one date. Regardless, the possessive timbre of his voice has something warm simmering under your skin.
Patrick laughs, loud and abrasive. “Well, this is fucking news to me,” he says through a chuckle, eyes flicking between the two of you bemusedly, “I didn’t realize you guys were playing house, but that does makes a lot more sense now.” He gestures to your chest with his free hand, pointing out the dark blue sweatshirt you’re wearing.
‘Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy’ is stitched across the front in thin black thread; you'd stolen it from Art’s closet when you slept over at his dorm a few nights ago. He never asked for it back.
“It’s cute that you kept my shirt, Donaldson.” Patrick teases, lolling his head to the side lazily so he can look at Art through his lashes. A plume of smoke billows from between his lips, slipping through the open window slowly. “Even after you tried to turn my girlfriend against me and fucked her behind my back first–”
“Fuck you, Patrick–” Art starts, face twisted in a scowl. His hands ball into fists at his side, jaw ticking with anger.
Patrick doesn’t look deterred, leaning forward in his chair as he tries to talk over Art, “You’re such a fucking hypocrite–”
“I’m not anyone’s girlfriend,” you cut them both off, brows drawn together in frustration, “—and I’m not going to let this turn into some weird pissing contest between you two. We’re here to talk.”
Art scoffs agitatedly, casting his eyes to the ceiling. “Looks like the two of you have done plenty of talking without me,” he says bitterly. “Do you get off on this shit or something? On sticking your dick where it doesn’t fucking belong?”
Patrick smirks, leaning back in his chair, arms draped lazily over the armrests. “God, you really do think you’re innocent in this,” he laughs incredulously, leaning back in his chair. “You’re acting like you’ve got some moral high ground, but you don’t. You’re just as guilty of playing the game as I am.”
Art’s face darkens further, anger threatening to boil over. “This isn’t a game to me, Patrick,” he spits, tone hard and low, “I’m so sick of you treating everything like a goddamn joke.”
Patrick’s smirk doesn’t falter. “I never said it was a joke,” he says with a shrug, tone easy and nonchalant. “I’m just saying, maybe you should take a good look in the mirror before you start pointing fucking fingers. I’m not the only one who’s played dirty here.”
“Patrick–” you warn, sitting up straighter. You can feel the way the air changes, the way the animosity gets turned up. The last thing you need is for them to start throwing punches.
Art cuts you off, shaking his head in contempt. “You’re so full of shit. You don’t fucking care about her. You never did. You just want to win, because you can’t stand the thought of losing to me.”
Patrick groans loudly, throwing his head back with it. “We’re really going back to this again? Jesus Christ, give it up man. It’s not like she was ever really yours to begin with.” He takes another slow drag from his cigarette, eyes never leaving Art.
The jab hits its mark, you can see it on Art’s face. In the way he physically recoils, the way he takes a ragged breath through his nose, the way the muscles of his jaw work furiously. For the first time since you fucked Patrick, you feel like a fucking bitch. The familiar feeling of guilt wraps its tendrils around you, weighing you down into the mattress like a physical force.
It gives you an idea, the guilt. It's a filthy idea, one that has heat stirring between your legs at just the thought. It’s a good way to make this whole situation up to Art, a good way to let him get under Patrick’s skin the same way he’s getting under his.
You sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. You should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t getting the three of you anywhere.
You sigh, overly dramatic and long suffering, scooting down until your legs are hanging over the edge of the mattress. Art and Patrick watch you the entire time, eyes finally leaving each other to watch your hands settle on the hem of Patrick’s sweatshirt.
“You guys are being so difficult. Why did I think that you could behave enough to talk this out like big boys?” You tug it off in one swift move, tossing it to the side carelessly. Two sharp gasps ring out, two sets of greedy eyes roam the bare expanse of your torso. You hadn’t worn a bra today.
You smirk, standing from the mattress and hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your sweats. You push them down your legs slowly, making a show of it until you're only in the pair of light purple panties you slipped on this morning. Patrick smirks, flicking his cigarette butt out the window and yanking it closed. He goes to stand, Art pointedly takes a single threatening step forward as he does but you stop both of them in their tracks.
“No.” Your voice rings through the small room, loud and commanding. Patrick sits back down almost immediately, his brow raising in confusion. Art does the same, freezing with one foot in front of him. They’re both hard, cocks tenting the fabric of their bottoms. Their boners point towards each other, you bite your lip to hide your smile.
“You’ve been so bad, Ricky.” you scold softly, voice syrupy sweet as you lean back on the bed. “Dressed up like an easy whore in here waiting for us, being so mean to Art, fucking his girl…” You trail off boredly, palms braced flat on the bed behind you so you can lean back as casually as you can muster. You let your legs fall open, spread enough to let Patrick and Art see the wet spot slowly seeping into the fabric.
You can hear Art’s sharp inhale from across the room at your words, his girl. You’re still careful not to say girlfriend, that’s a whole other talk. Patrick squirms in his chair, practically itching with the need to say something. You level him with a hard look, a firm shake of your head keeps him quiet. When you finally turn your attention to Art, he meets your gaze easily, eyes already blown out and glassy. Even from here you can see the way his pupils swallow the pretty blue color.
You smile, lips curling up in a wicked smile. “Art,” you coo softly, reaching your hand out in offering, “come here.”
Art’s walking towards you without a second thought, crossing the room in just a few large steps. You smile at him, patting the spot next to you. The bed creaks as he sits down, the mattress dipping under his weight slides you closer to him. ”I think,” you say slowly, resting your hand high up on his thigh, so close to the hard line of his cock straining against the fabric, “that we need to teach Patrick a lesson on manners.”
“What! No fucking way, that’s bullshi–” Patrick fusses from the corner, sitting up straighter in seat, the armrest gripped tight in his left hand.
“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, whipping your head to the side to glare at him. “This isn’t about you.”
He frowns, pushing out his bottom lip like an actual child. You just barely fight the urge to roll your eyes, an evil smile spreading across your face as you watch him honest-to-God pout.
“This is about Art,” you slide your hand up higher, cupping him through his loose shorts. You can hear his sharp intake of breath, a quiet ‘fuck’ falls from his lips as you apply more pressure to where your hand is steadily rubbing him up and down. “Plus, you’re already in the cuck chair,” you aren’t able to stop the small chuckle that falls from your lips, “you’ve got a perfect view.”
His pink lips part ever so slightly, eyes going wide and hungry at your words. You throw him one last devilish smile before you’re sinking to your knees in front of the bed. The scratchy carpet digs into your knees but you don’t care, not when Art is towering in front of you with the ceiling lights shining around him like he’s an angel.
You smile up at him, dragging the palms of your hands up and down his thighs. “Take your shirt off,” you encourage, slipping your hands up to toy with the hem of his shorts.
He complies beautifully, pulling his shirt up and over his head and tossing it aside, revealing the lean, toned muscles of his torso. You let your eyes linger on him for a moment, appreciating the sight before returning your attention to your task. Your fingers deftly undo the drawstring of his shorts, and start tugging them down. Art lifts his hips enough for you to drag them all the way down his legs, taking his boxers with them to free his hard cock.
Again, you slide your hands up the bare skin of his thighs, inches away from where he wants them. He’s so hard, cock standing straight up in an angry red line against his stomach. The tip drools pre-cum that leaks down the length of him slowly.
Art's breath hitches, his eyes locked onto you with a mix of anticipation and desperation. Your fingers brush lightly over his upper thighs, before you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the heat of his arousal pulse against your palm. His gasp is sharp, and you silently revel in the power you hold over him in this moment.
You glance over at Patrick, who is staring wide-eyed, his earlier irritation replaced with a raw, unfiltered hunger.
Your lips curl into a smug smile at the sight of his flushed cheeks and the way his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. “See something you like, Patrick?” you taunt, giving Art a slow, deliberate stroke that has him groaning softly. Patrick’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching, but he stays silent, his gaze locked on the two of you.
Art's hands grip the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning white. "Fuck," he breathes out, his voice strained, "you're killing me."
You laugh softly, a dark, melodic sound, and lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the bead of precum at the tip of his cock. Art moans, the sound vibrating through you. You glance up at him through your lashes, seeing the way his head tilts back, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure.
You slide your lips up the length of his leaking cock, teasing and slow. Art stares down at you, not breaking eye contact as he breathes raggedly through his nose.
“Tell him how it feels,” you whisper against the pink tip of his cock, sliding it back and forth across your lips teasingly. Art swallows hard, skin flushing in embarrassment.
“So good…” he whispers, eyes still locked onto yours. His blush goes from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, spreading pink and warm across the strong muscle of his pecs.
You smile, shaking your head softly. “Don’t tell me, tell him.” You jerk your head in Patrick’s direction once before you sink down until your nose is nestled against the soft blonde hair at the base of his cock, working your throat around the length of him.
Art moans loudly, his hands coming up to tangle into your hair. You keep going, fighting his grip on you as you start to bob your head over his cock in a steady rhythm, working your hand in time with your mouth.
He forces himself to look at Patrick, catching his eyes.
Patrick looks fucked, lips slick and dropped open as he stares back Art, hungry gaze not wavering. His cock is still hard, pressed against the seam of his boxers and leaking a steady patch of wetness around the head.
A silent challenge seems to pass between the two of them.
We doing this or what?
Art refuses to back down, hardening his resolve. “Feels so fucking good,” he groans, not looking away from Patrick, “her throat’s so tight, so– God, it’s so good. Best I’ve ever had.”
He’s rambling, not even making any sense but you hum in approval all the same, your tongue curling around the crown. Patrick doesn’t look like he minds too much either, pink tongue coming out to swipe along his bottom lip. "Please," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear. "Let me..."
You pull off Art with a wet pop, turning your head as best you can with his hand still tangled in your hair to fix Patrick with a steely gaze. "You don't get to make requests," you say, your voice hard. "You get to watch and learn."
Patrick's eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he doesn't protest. Art lets out a low growl, his hand tightening its grip on your hair and dragging your mouth back to his cock.
“Stop fucking talking to him,” he demands, hips thrusting to fuck back into your mouth. You choke on the sudden fullness, wetness floods your panties as you moan around him.
Yes, you think, eyes squeezing close as you force your throat to relax around his cock, this is what I wanted.
You were waiting to see how long it’d take Art to snap, he lasted longer than you thought he would. The head of his cock punches against the soft, spongy part at the back of your throat. You fight to not gag around him, hands scrambling for purchase on his thighs. His balls slap against your chin roughly, sticking wetly to the drool that's starting to fall from the corners of your lips.
Art meets Patrick’s eye again, a smug smirk on his face as he jerks his head in a clear invitation, “Come here.” He grunts simply, dragging you up and down the length of his cock by his tight grip on your hair.
Patrick practically sprints from the chair, ripping his shirt off while he tries to kick his boxers off before he reaches the bed. He sits next to Art, chest heaving as he stares down at where your lips stretched obscenely over his best friend's cock.
Art pulls you off by your hair, holding your face a few inches away from his spit covered cock. He tuts at you sympathetically, tilting his head to the side with a tiny frown at the sight of you all teary eyed. “Bet you feel real empty, right?” he asks sadly, shaking your head back and forth like a dog. “That greedy pussy wants our cocks stretching her open, doesn't she?”
You whine loudly, nodding your head as best you can as the meaning of Art’s words sink over you. You feel far away, like you’ve already been fucked six ways to Sunday. You cunt clenches around nothing, aching for Art and Patrick’s cocks bullying their way inside you. You’ve never done anything like that before, taken two guys at once, but God do you need it.
Art nods back, brows pulled together in faux pity. “Pat and I will help baby,” he says sweetly, “You just gotta get nice and stretched out first, need to fuck yourself open on Patrick’s cock so you can take us.”
“Fuck yeah,” Patrick breathes, already moving up the bed to lay flat on his back agasint the pillows. His cock sticking straight out from his body, pointing to the ceiling desperately.
Art lets go of your hair, cupping the side of your face tenderly. His thumb rubs against the soft skin of your cheekbone a few times, you know it’s a question.
Do you want this?
You smile, nuzzling his palm and giving his thumb a playful nip. The answer to his question written all over your face.
Fuck yes.
Art smiles back, nodding his head once. You take the hint, rising from your knees to climb onto the mattress. You slide your panties off, tossing them aside as you crawl up the length of Patrick’s body, straddling his hips and wasting no time in sinking down on his cock.
Art settles next to the two of you, hand loosely gripped around his cock as he starts to lazily stroke himself to the sight of you and Patrick.
“Fuck!” Patrick hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips fiercely as you start to ride him, not giving either of you anytime to adjust. The stretch burns, the lack of prepping before hand makes it sting. You don’t mind, too worked up to care.
“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” He tries, but you cut him off bringing your free hand to wrap around the column of his throat just like he did to you back in the shower.
“You’re the slut,” you growl, fingers digging into his skin roughly. His eyes widen, plush lips going slack. You speed your hips up, the loud smack each time you drop down onto him echoes through the room. “You’re the easy fucking whore that soaked your panties watching your best friend fuck my throat."
Art huffs out a breath, hand slipping over his cock faster as he watches you ride Patrick. His eyes are trained on the way your hand is wrapped against Patrick’s throat. He slips his free hand down, pressing two fingers against Patrick’s cock so you slide down onto them on the next bounce.
“Fuck!” You keen loudly, grip tightening on Patrick’s throat. Art’s fingers add to the sting of your cunt, but your hips don’t stop moving, even as he slips in a third just as fast.
You get lost in it, in the feeling of Patrick’s dick fucking into you so deeply you swear he’s hitting your cervix with every roll of your hips, Art’s fingers stretching you that much wider.
Suddenly, Art drops his cock so his free hand can latch onto your hips, his strong grip forcing you to stop your desperate bouncing. His fingers slip out of you, you immediately miss the stretch.
Patrick groans in displeasure, his hips buck up like he’s trying to slide back into the warmth of your fucked open cunt. His leaking head bumps against your sensitive clit a few times before Art’s dropping his hand down, gripping Patrick’s cock to line it up with his own.
Art slides up behind you, his sweaty chest pressing firmly against your back. “Should be stretched out enough,” He whispers into the nape of your neck, pressing both tips against your fluttering hole.
The shock of it has your hand slipping off Patrick’s throat to anchor onto his shoulders in a feeble attempt to brace yourself. He sucks in large gasps of air, chest heaving as he stares down to where his cock is pressed snug against Art’s, his hand big enough to almost wrap around them both. He throws his head back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut, “Fuck, I can’t watch,” he gasps, voice low and ragged.
Art laughs smugly, but it’s breathy around the edges and you can feel the way his hand shakes on your hip. “Close already, Pat?” He asks condescendingly, as his fingers dig in a little tighter. “You’re not even doing any of the work.”
You try to focus on the sensation of Art’s grip, but your mind is a haze of overstimulation and the throb of Patrick’s cock against you. Art’s mocking tone sends a shiver down your spine, making you acutely aware of how close you are to the edge yourself. Your greedy cunt clenches around them, trying to suck them in you.
Patrick’s breath stutters, his hips jerking up involuntarily, making a strangled noise that’s half-groan, half-whimper. “Fuck you, man,” he manages to grind out, but his voice is trembling and strained, the bite in his tone gets undercut by how wrecked he sounds. You can feel the barely there twitches of his hips, like he’s physically pained from having to wait any longer.
A sharp cry rips from your throat as they finally start to slide in, both heads popping into your tight hole all at once. Your eyes screw shut at the stretch, thighs shaking where they’re spread over Patrick’s hips.
“Someone kiss me,” you gasp desperately, chin lowering to your chest. Art’s moving before the words finish leaving your mouth, gripping a fistful of Patrick’s hair and dragging him up to your lips. You whine into his mouth, letting his tongue slide between your lips to claim your mouth.
The familiar feeling of his lips on yours relaxes you the tiniest bit, letting Art lower you down a few more inches. It feels like hours as you sink onto them, Art’s big hands gently massaging your hips while Patrick’s greedy fingers pull and paw at your thighs.
It’s the quietest you’ve ever heard Patrick. His lips going slack in awe against yours as Art’s cock slides up next to his, moaning into your mouth when your hips go flush with his.
They feel so huge inside you, so thick you swear you can feel them in your stomach. Bullying your insides into making more room for the both of them.
“Fuck," you gasp, nails digging little crescent moons into Patrick’s shoulders. Every inch of you is alive with sensation, a burning mix of pleasure and pain. Art’s breath is hot and ragged against your ear, whispering sweet encouragements, “It’s okay baby, you’re okay, taking us so fucking good–”
You nod, slowly starting to grind your hips back and forth, gasping when they rub up against the soft spot inside of you that has you clenching in pleasure– practically choking them off at the base. A high moan falls from your lips, hips swirling the tiniest bit faster that have both Art and Patrick growl out matching groans of approval.
“Just like that,” Art whispers into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Gonna make him come first, or are you gonna beat him to it?” The challenge in his voice sends a jolt of heat through you, your thighs starting to shake with every pass of them over that spot.
“God, ah! Art– fuck, mh, Patrick–” You slur, head already starting to go fuzzy
“Fuck,” Art gasps out your name sharply, pushing you down onto Patrick’s chest so he can start fucking into your loose, sloppy cunt. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” his hand grips the back of your neck to pin you down, throwing all his strength behind the snap of his hips.
“Shit, look at you,” Patrick chuckles weakly pinching your hips hard, trying to seem less affected than he really is. “You’re so fucking gone. All that attitude needs is some dick to fix it, huh?”
You crack your eyes open, blearily searching until you zero in on his face. He’s smiling smugly, eyes blown out and hazy.
“Shut the fuck up,” you spit weakly, raising your hand to shove your index and middle finger between his parted lips. You push back far enough to feel his throat constricting against your fingers, letting him gag on you. Your eyes trace the side of his face, down the slope of his nose to where his cherry red lips are lewdly spread around your fingers.
You can distantly hear Art groan behind you, his hips speeding up impossibly faster. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers digging into your sensitive skin meanly. You hook your fingers behind Patrick’s teeth, dragging his face to the side to meet your eye. Patrick moans around your fingers, gazing at you pleading through half lidded eyes. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, drenching your wrist. His hot, wet tongue sliding along the pads of your fingers feels scalding.
Patrick's hands are everywhere, pulling, pinching, caressing, his touch a maddening mix of rough and tender. The feeling of him inside you, alongside Art, is almost too much to bear, making you gasp for breath. Your moans are a symphony of pleasure and desperation, each one a plea for more, more, more the closer you get the edge.
“Shit, ah, Art, ah!” Your feet scrabbled uselessly against the sheets, the fingers of your free hand twist Patrick’s hair roughly. “I’m gonna come— Mm, ah! I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” Art goads, the rhythm of his hips not faltering, “Come on baby– fuck yeah– fucking soak these dicks–”
Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, your vision whites out around you as the entire world shrinks down to the stretch of your gushing cunt around Art and Patrick. The slight burn of them, the fullness, the unrelenting pace of Art’s hips stinging the skin of your ass on each thrust.
Patrick bites down on your fingers with a broken whine just as Art sinks his teeth into your neck, both of them groaning so loud it’s all you can hear. That and the faulty rhythm of Art’s hips snapping against the meat of your ass in loud ‘cracks’.
They come together, and you can feel it.
You can feel every twitch and jerk of their cocks inside you as they spray the walls of your cunt with their releases. Spurt after spurt of hot come claiming you as theirs, filling you to the brim. Art doesn’t stop, working the three of you through your orgasms. Each thrust fucks more of their come out of you, the lewd squelch of it leaking from of your loose hole to gather around the base of their cocks in two matching creamy rings makes your ears burn.
Just as it gets to be too much, when the pleasure starts to give way into biting overstimulation, Art stops. You’re slumped against Patrick, shaking like a leaf when Art starts to pull out as gently as he can. You hiss when the head of his cock slips out, thighs clenching together.
“Sorry,” he whispers sweetly, giving your shoulder a gentle kiss. He practically man handles you off of Patrick’s cock, lifting your hips up and off of him.
Patrick groans, stomach twitching in oversensitivity as your slick walls slide against his spent dick. Finally he slips out, his drenched cock falling to slap onto his stomach. There come rushes out of you, dripping sticky and thick down your inner thighs.
There’s sweat dripping down your temple when you fall onto the mattress, your back sticks to the sheets but you’re too out of it to care. Art collapses next to you, sandwiching you between him and Patrick. The three of you are quiet, chests heaving as you catch your breath. Patrick’s hairy thigh is pressed to yours, firm and toned. Art’s got an arm slung over your waist, his breath puffs hot against your neck.
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other,” you say breathlessly, voice raspy and hoarse. “It could work. We could make it work, the three of us.”
Art and Patrick are quiet, their silence heavy with contemplation. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling, more nervous bringing this up than you thought you’d be. The room is filled with the sounds of your collective breaths, mingling with the lingering scent of sweat and sex.
Patrick chuckles, you can feel his curls brushing against your shoulder as he shakes his head in dry amusement. "Yeah, because everything about this screams 'healthy relationship,'" he quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Art lets out a soft, exasperated sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he says, his voice low and steady. "Let's just...see where this goes."
You feel a rush of relief at his words, but Patrick’s hesitancy still gnaws at the edges of your mind. Patrick shifts beside you, his hand skirting lightly over your arm in a rare moment of tenderness.
"Guess we're in uncharted territory, huh?" he murmurs, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
You laugh, finally daring to glance at both of them, a tentative smile forming on your lips. "Yeah, but maybe that's not such a bad thing."
Art and Patrick look back at you with matching grins wide enough to show their teeth, blonde and black hair fanning around their faces like halo’s under the room’s shitty fluorescent light. Your heart swells under the intense stare of two pairs of eyes, one blue and one green. You can feel the room start to fade away until it’s just the three of you and nothing else seems to matter.
Art leans down, giving your right shoulder a quick kiss. “If we’re doing this, we have to be honest with each other.” He looks between you and Patrick pointedly, but he’s still smiling. “No more bullshit games.”
Patrick snorts, letting his head fall back onto the pillows, “Yes sir.”
You nod, not bothering to hide your smile. "No bullshit, no games," you agree, moving to squeeze Art's hand. He squeezes back in a silent promise.
The three of you lie there in a comfortable silence, the weight of your decision settling over you. It's definitely not going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, it could work.
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
#— 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ♡#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#still giggling about this title#i’m so funny#this took so much of my brain power#and i lowkey hate it#but not so much#just a little#idk#feeling weird#anyways!#bye!#love!#challengers x reader#challengers x you#challengers imagine#challengers fic#challengers fanfic#challengers smut#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson fic#art donaldson fanfic#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig fic#patrick zweig fanfic
947 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I request something with James? Where reader lashes out at him and she had arguments with her ex a lot and expected this (her lash out) to get into a really big argument but he’s just like „okay noted“ and super kind about it (a little bit inspired by all my ghosts by lizzy)
(You can obviously change stuff to your liking and no pressure)
all hail lizzy mcalpine. i loved this request and i love james! thank you!
“Im serious, James!” You exclaim, a little louder than necessary. “I miss you! You’re always at practice, or with the boys, and I love the boys! But I miss you!”
He pauses in the doorway, startled by your reaction.
Remus and Sirius miss me too, you expect him to say, or rather, I can’t miss rugby cause you miss me a little more. You anticipate the sting of his words before they come, bracing yourself as you lean back against the kitchen countertop. They don’t come.
“And I miss your hugs.” You tear up pitifully, trying again, rather weakly, as he walks over. You don’t want an argument, but why isn’t it coming? “You’ve been gone so much. You know I hate doing the dishes.”
He grabs ahold of your elbow, his thumb digging into the crease as he pulls you close. Your palms dig into your eyes as your forehead dips against his chest. The way your shoulders shake aches him. He should never be the reason for your tears.
He’s been gone more recently, yes, and he feels terrible about it. If he’s not at rugby, the boys want to see him, and if he’s not with the boys, he’s at rugby. He’s missed you so much recently, he just didn’t know you mirrored his emotions.
“I’m the worst,” James says sincerely. “I didn’t know I was making you feel like this.”
“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, stress evident in your choked voice. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or guilty, by crying I mean.”
He rocks you back and forth, arms securely over your shoulders. His embrace is a little tight, but this is the longest hug you’ve had this week and you can’t bring yourself to say something.
“Please don’t say that, please don’t feel bad for crying.”
“It’s totally manipulative though, I know, I’m sorry.”
He pulls back, searching for something in your eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s just-“
He looks so sad and confused as you pause midway. Helpless, like he doesn’t know what to do with you. Quietly, you feel bad for giving him the crease between his brows.
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” James appalls. “I’m going mad knowing I’m the dolt that made you feel like this.”
“James-“
“I’d totally beat someone up if they treated you like this, I would hate them forever.”
“Stop.”
“No, seriously!” He doubles down. “I would never forgive them.”
He’s so unapologetically him it aches you deeply. He’s rosy, smiles and boyish giggles. Warm in the summer, and warm in the winter. Radiating a kind of glow that only very special people are able to emanate. Sometimes you secretly feel like you’ll never be able to glow like him, but he always manages to bring it out of you when you’re around him.
You frown suddenly. “I’m so tired of missing you, Jamie.”
“I miss you too, lovely.” He’s serious again. “How can we get through this?”
You shrug, unused to this gentle treatment you so desperately deserve.
“Should we install weekly dates, hmm?” James asks. “We should, shouldn’t we?”
You shrug again feeling weak with emotion.
“Or tell the boys to bugger off,” he continues without giving you room to speak. “You’re much too kind to say it but I know, my love.”
You laugh quietly, nudging your cheek against his shoulder. He’s fond, smiling as he watches down to you.
“Oh, my girl,” he croons, grabbing your warm face to cradle. “Totally not to pull the victim card, but I missed you so much more.”
“Really?”
“I moon over you while you’re away. The boys are sick of it.”
He leans down nuzzling his cheek against yours, pulling back to kiss the corner of your mouth, the side of your nose, the apple of your cheek. You don’t know what to do with yourself, letting your wringing hands float up to hold his shoulders.
“Thank you for telling me.” He says honestly.
You reel earnestly. Only James Potter could thank you for trying to start an argument.
“You’re welcome.”
#james potter x you#james potter blurb#james potter fluff#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james x reader#james potter fic#james x you#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter#james potter comfort#james potter x y/n#james potter x y/n fluff#james potter x wife!reader#james potter x fem!reader#marauders x y/n#marauders fanfic#marauders fanfiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Wars and Wild as knights in Lu
They have issues.
I have a lot of thoughts on Wild and Wars and their relationship (Order of this post is talking about saluting, Wild and Wars' different perspectives, memory issues, and fire) Rant time.
No saluting!!
So Wild took a formal- almost/awkwardly saluting pose when Wars confronted him in 'Entrance pt.2'
It's similar to the first time Wild addressed Wars as 'captain'. His left hand is up from where a salute should be, and his overall posture is awkward, with his shoulders and right hand raised, but it's clear he's trying to do a salute in the presence of a fellow knight.
In the second example his hand is behind his head, but his posture is very straight and his right arm stiff- he's again attempting a formal saluting position. Which is still awkward
It is less clear but his changes in posture clued me in. He goes from like a deer in the headlights to visibly sweating to straight backed and looking up at Wars- looking at the changes in his body language
Side note but I literally love how Jojo draws the champions tunic so much-
We can't see the action of Wild's body language in a comic, just the positions he went to. But he visibly leaned away from Wars before switching to a straight backed saluting-like posture. He's clearly freaked out, hence Twilight's face: >:(
I think that Wild taking somewhat military poses around Wars is important to their relationship issues because it comes from his struggle with memory and identity
.
So like. All of them have different perspectives
Wars
I adore Wars. He is baby and I love him. I think it is also important to acknowledge that he would not speak to any of the others this way.
And the scarf man cmon it's so pretty they are so cute-
Why is Wars talking to Wild like this? He's called him out and reprimanded him multiple times in front of the others. Wild has taken it well but tbh if it was Legend I think he would be on fire.
To some extent I think he is in captain mode. I think that he has trouble seeing Wild as not a knight. Wars gives Wild respect as a knight who sacrificed for his kingdom, but now it seems he's taking it away as a knight who's not doing well enough since he 'disregarded the plan'
At least I think that's the outside (or Wild's) view of it. But Wars internally really cares about Wild and he saw him run up to a giant and lose it. Different ways of showing concern perhaps?
Who wouldn't want to keep Wild from getting more scars?
I just. Don't doubt for a second Wars really cares about Wild- even if the way he's acting still isn't cool. He has no right to treat him like a soldier any more than the rest of the chain, and right now I think Wild is acting as the more mature person.
Wild
I adore Wild. He is baby and I love him. I think it is also important to acknowledge that although he is clearly making efforts after Twilight's injury, Wild has ignored Wars for the majority of Lu, by not speaking to him much, and not thanking or acknowledging Wars when he directly helped him. (Small example being walking with Hyrule not Wars when injured and not directly responding to Wars)
Wars cares about and respects Wild, but it seems Wild wants nothing to do with him, and he's been cold towards Wars for the majority of Lu. To Wild, Wars reminds him of his perceived failure. Which is valid feelings, but still not fair. And I think that ask is talking about these two.
The thing I love about this is each of them are right and wrong in some ways, leading to the tension between them. So fully blaming either of them is not logical
The rest of the chain is just vibing. Except twilight who's mad and wants them to just grow up, but. Heros of courage not wisdom @uniquevoidflowers ;)
And that ask- '''Are any of the Links ever jealous of another Link for adventures that were less difficult/life threatening?'' ''When you hear Wild say he 'hates' someone you'll have your answer.''' somewhat leads to my next point-
Wild's identity and memory issues exacerbate all of this
In Entrance, Twilight is being stressed and defensive, that's ok. What concerns me most is that Twilight has talked with Wild through stuff like this in his rough moments
Wild has tried to be formal several times- he is not very good at it
Four's face I can't didnwidkekfjej
Wild isn't and can't be 'him'- the same 'perfect' (<actually has crippling anxiety) knight he was before, and Twilight knows this. And I agree with him a bit, I think, that Wars is making things worse in Wild's mind by being that perfect soldier, and seemingly holding Wild to a standard he isn't
Wild's attempts at saluting is symbolic of that- Wars makes him feel like a failure trying to be the person he should be. But Wild shouldn't be anyone but himself.
Anyways. Fire.
Wars and Wild have issues, and I want them to work through all their relationship drama so they can reach their PEAK dynamic, which is obviously this
I mean like. We need these two to be friends
Anyways. Wild is in this constant state of identity crisis, and being around Wars has not been beneficial- neither of them is or has been showing the other the respect they deserve. Not as knights, but as people and brothers. They need a get along shirt.
All this Art is by Jojo @linkeduniverse au!
:)
#that's it that's my argument. they need a get along shirt#I think times armor would work. they are small enough to be the kids shoved in dads clothes to get along#it could hold up when wars starts breathing fire and wild blowing stuff up#linked universe#linkeduniverse#hiii Jesse#Lu wild#lu wars#let's talk about it! I know some of yall will disagree with me probably on some of this#open communication and whatnot#but. do not take this post to hate on wild or wars bc they are both baby <3 fire babies#this post took like three days. like it.#<wait that's unclear. I don't mean literally like it lol I just want you to like as because I made it for you and want it to make you happy#':D if I've said anything like mean or offensive accidentally sorry let me know. we all care so much about these little arsonists <33#remember you are loved yall matter so much and I care about you#:)#if I have type the word 'wars' or 'wild' one more time I'm gonna lose it
729 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi do you happen to take a request. If you up for it can I request fratboy atsumu and make it hurt/comfort wheter it's misunderstanding cz you know he is so popular or anything that you like. Love your job btw and you can ignore my request if you are not into it ♡♡♡
a misunderstanding between fratboy!atsumu and fem!reader.
hurt, comfort, vulgar words used.
note: hello! thank you so much for the request. sorry this took long, these weeks has been so busy and i've only got a chance to write it this afternoon. this hits hard while im writing because i experienced the same thing, but instead of reassurance i got dumped lol XD. i hope you enjoy my own interpretation of this prompt.
more fratboy!atsumu here!
dating fratboy!atsumu is wonderful, yet it comes with consequences.
the constant social events, the parties, and being under the scrutiny of his frat brothers can be overwhelming. however, the fear of not being enough for someone as popular as atsumu is your greatest concern. atsumu has a bunch of girls lined up for him, ready to take your place should the relationship end. you feel guilty of thinking this way, because your boyfriend has made it clear how much he loves you. the thought is slowly eating you up, and how bad it affects your emotions lately. you'd be so sensitive, which causes you to lash out on him for small or no reason at all, but you're grateful of how atsumu never once gets mad, instead offering reassurance you needed.
the atmosphere is vibrant with the crowd at the party, the sound of loud music, and an array of drinks and food spread out on a large table. you hadn't intended to go to a frat party with atsumu tonight, but you find yourself here regardless because it's suna's event. suna has always been nothing but kind to you, and you get along with him well, so it would feel rude not to attend tonight.
atsumu had left you on your own, engaging in conversation with his friends somewhere. as you mingle with familiar faces, trying to shake off the doubts in your mind, you catch a glimpse of atsumu across the room. he's talking to a girl, one you dont recognize. your stomach turns as you watch her, admiring her beautiful features and you suddenly feel ugly having her presence near you. not to say how sexy she looks, casually slaying any style that she wears. she's standing close to him, her body language open and flirty. she laughs at something he says, placing a hand lightly on his arm. atsumu smiles back at her, seemingly enjoying the conversation. the sight sends a jolt of jealousy through you. your heart was aching, so you decided to step outside to feel some fresh air. as you make your way to the door, you hear a couple of atsumu's frat brothers talking nearby.
"man, atsumu's only with her because she's safe. she's not like other girls, you get what i mean?"
"yeah, i give it a month before he gets bored and moves on. probably after he fucked her first, heard that she's a virgin," one of them said, earning chuckles from his peers.
"dude you seen the girl atsumu's talking to? man she's hot as hell, i bet he gets his cock wet with her instead of his girlfriend,"
the words sting, like salt on an open wound. you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you quickly leave the party. the fresh air outside does little to soothe the ache in your chest. you walk home, with every step feeling heavier than the one before, hurt and confusion swirl through your mind. you didnt care about atsumu who's still at the party, he can go have fun with his 'new girl'.
it wasn't long before atsumu came looking for you, only to realize that you had already left. "dunno dude, but i saw her crying when she got out of the house, i didnt ask because i thought you two had an argument or something," said a guy from atsumu's fraternity. what did he do? he thinks. not before his twin started asking the same thing, and he swore he felt like his life is on the line. "what the heck did ya do?" osamu's tone is mad, and he's second away from grabbing atsumu's collar and bash his head into the wall. "i dont know! i was just talking to midori and- " his eyes widen, finally realizing the reason why before smacking his head into his palm repeatedly. suna shakes his head. "better go now man, dont wanna mess up this one, yeah?" suna advised, patting on atsumu's shoulder before the blonde dashes outside and drove off.
atsumu's texts and calls remained unanswered. you activated do-not-disturb mode, silencing any notifications and calls from your boyfriend. your feet ached from the lengthy walk, and you regretted the impulsive decision you made earlier. suddenly, a honk startled you, and you turned to see a familiar vehicle—atsumu's car—slowing down to match your walking pace. despite this, your pride was unwavering, and you quickened your steps. atsumu's voice, calling out your name in an attempt to halt your progress, was audible.
"(y/n), baby! come on now!" he pleaded, but you continued to ignore him. striving to walk faster, the discomfort in your feet intensified. then, the sound of his car door closing followed by the approaching footsteps indicated he was coming after you.
"babe! c'mon, listen ta me," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. you kept walking, your emotions a whirlwind of hurt and confusion. finally, atsumu caught up to you, gently grabbing your arm to stop you. "please," he said, his voice softer now, "just let me explain,"
you stop, reluctantly turning to face him. his eyes were filled with worry and regret. "im sorry, m'kay? i didnt mean to make you feel that way," he began, his voice cracking slightly. "im sorry baby, midori is an old friend, and we have nothing going on, whether its in the past or now, we never had anything together,"
you looked away, the pain still fresh in your heart as you recalls those hurtful words you heard. "your frat brothers, they said some hurtful things. they said how you're only with me because im safe, and you're going to leave me right after you take away my virginity. and, how you're probably fucking with her behind my back,". you were choking back tears, overwhelmed by a wave of pain and guilt. "i feel worse, tsumu. i hate how i feel like im in a competition with all the pretty girls waiting for you to break it off with me, and- , and how im afraid im not enough with you, and you will leave me because you realized im not what you wanted,"
atsumu's grip on your arm tightened slightly, his eyes pleading for you to understand. he'll deal with those assholes later, right now his only concern is you. "fuck, 'm so sorry, sweetheart, im sorry," he said. tears welled up in your eyes. seeing your struggle, atsumu pulls you into a gentle embrace, his warmth offering a sense of comfort amidst the turmoil. "that's not true at all, my love for ya is genuine, those guys dont know shit about me, fuck," atsumu said, his tone filled with desperation and a slight anger. "yer perfect fer me, i fucking love ya so much. yer always be more than enough for me baby, so fucking gorgeous, perfect in every way, dont doubt it alright?" he confessed, feeling his eyes burning with tears.
"im so sorry. i should have noticed how ya were feeling," he murmured into your hair. "im here now, 'm not goin' anywhere. we'll get through this, i promise,"
you finally relax yourself in his arms, the hurt slowly beginning to fade. the raw honesty and vulnerability in his voice reassured you, and you felt a glimmer of hope.
the drive home was slow and filled with more heartfelt conversation. atsumu held your hand the entire time, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand as he reassured you of his love and commitment. by the time you reached home, you felt lighter, the misunderstanding serving as a catalyst for a deeper connection and renewed trust.
#haikyuu#anime#haikyuu fluff#inarizaki#miya twins#hq fluff#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu miya#miya atsumu#atsumu angst#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu smau#msby atsumu#atsumu fluff#atsumu x reader#haikyuu atsumu#hq atsumu#atsumu x you#atsumu x y/n#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x y/n#hq x y/n#hq x you#hq osamu#angst with a happy ending#angst#haikyuu x you
389 notes
·
View notes
Text
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑼𝑵ㅤㅤ january free requestsㅤ ㅤ trafalgar law x f! reader
🕊️ request: @leftladyluminary ⋆。˚ Hello ( ^ω^ ) I was wondering if I could request a Law x fem!reader exploring a temple together that turns out to be a uh “procreation” temple the strongly affects those who enter? Please and thank you~ (╹◡╹)♡ 🕊️ tw: mdni. raw, rough sex. vaginal. nipple play. pregnancy ideas implied. cream pie. wc: 1650 🕊️ masterlist
Zou is a humid place, very muddy as well. Your boots are dirty, and your clothing soaking wet. Those “Eruption Rains” become pretty inconvenient throughout the day, but they are necessary.
“I shouldn’t have worn a white shirt…” you tell Law, crossing your arms over your breasts.
“I would say you shouldn’t have worn it without a bra, (Name)-ya” Law says, squeezing and twisting his hat to drain it from the excess of water.
You sit down on a rock. Was it really necessary to say such thing? At best he should be a little bit happy to see your body through semi see through fabrics. What Law has just said felt painful to you, to say the least.
“You are right, I’m sorry” you mumble, walking away to find a proper place to hide and change your clothes. You are sure the ones in your backpack are as wet as your current ones, but something darker will do to cover up.
When the rivers formed in what are usually trails on top of Zuneesha’s back are finally dried, you find a very interesting construction ahead. Curious, as always, you come closer to discover it is a shrine.
“What a beautiful place” you comment in awe. Law seems to be anywhere else. He is probably near, but not close to you.
Curious, you put a step inside the shrine. It isn’t necessarily different from the rest of the temples you have attended in this long journey of piracy. However, somehow in the aura feels unusual to you.
The scent of incense smells more flowery, sweet, maybe even a little bit spicy. The Vitreaux windows create incredible depictions of Orchids on the ground, as the sun filters its rains through them. And the altar has a very distinctive little statue that calls for your hand to touch.
“I wonder what’s this shrine about? What god is meant to be built for? In fact, do Minks have gods?” you ask yourself, making mental notes to ask Wanda once you are back from your expedition.
Your eyes scan the golden sculpture, it looks like two creatures tangled into each other. You would lie if you said you didn’t think of them having sex, and in fact you giggle for your “witty” thoughts.
There isn’t much to discover besides what you have just seen, but a little sign engraved in an old piece of wood.
“you shall keep your blood flowing; the warriors of the Sun must never disappear; they will fight for freedom and unity during this dark night”
You smile; and immediately after reading you remember Luffy. Even Law recognizes he is as shiny as the Sun itself. You don’t really think much of the true meaning of the sign, and soon after find Law looking at you from the very entrance.
“I turned around and you were gone, I didn’t know where you were” he asks, still soaking wet like a cat left out in the rain and looking a little bit mad at you for disappearing.
You could have picked a fight; you probably could have just brushed it off. But neither of those were your reaction, and unconsciously you lift your arms to stretch. The white shirt, still soaking wet, kept the transparency and with that the show off of your hard nipples presented to Law in its full beauty.
“I’m sorry, I was looking for a place to change” you tell him, with a rather sexy tone.
Law’s sun burnt cheeks turn red, golden eyes widening, pupils getting bigger. The little hints of black eyeliner smudge on his already dark tinted under eyes, the juicy pale lips of your captain slowly separating.
“You thought of changing on a shrine? Getting naked on a temple, (Name)-ya?” he asks, coming closer to you as he lets his yellow bag fall on the floor. Law walks like a snow leopard, slowly, menacing, sexily…
You swallow. That’s not his usual self, not at least with you. He looks like he is about to fight you, or even hurt you.
“L-Law, I wanted to put on a shirt over this one so that my breasts won-“ you shut up, as he strikes you and pins you against the altar.
You put your arms back to get a grip of something as you lose balance. Your hand reaches something cold and tiny and immediately after, his warm inked hand falls on top of yours.
Both, at the same time, touch the little statue behind and it feels like a new energy begins to run through your veins. It doesn’t take you long to finally succumb into a lustful, inappropriate kiss. His hands, all over your waist, lift the wet shirt that’s begun to get hot and too heavy on your skin.
“I have no idea what force is making me do this, but believe me I am not mad about it, (Name)-ya” Law whispers, in between panting and with his lips grazing yours.
“I have no idea either, but don’t you dare stop…”
The Surgeon of Death attacks your lips once again, this time while freeing you completely from your wet coverings… even if, something else in you was getting wetter by the moment.
Maybe it was the force of doing something so incorrect, so unholy on a sacred place… or maybe it was your love? Or even, both? Who knows, perhaps it was something else but the more you kiss, the more your bodies slide down until your back hits the red carpet covered floor.
Law’s tattooed hands squeeze and play with your breasts, almost like a beast ready to engulf his prey. “You wanted me to do this, don’t you?” he asks, reaching for one of your hard nipples, kissing the erected surface and then trapping it with his lips.
“Honestly, yes. I missed your touch…” you moan, realizing you are finally able to indulge in sex. It’s been long enough since you could touch each other, since you could be this intimate.
“I know, I’m sorry…” he whispers, planting a soft kiss on your chest.
You know there is nothing to forgive, and immediately after you notice his stitched arm holding the weight of his body on top of you.
“Law… can I be on top this time?” you ask, kissing the scar of his biceps.
His golden eyes shine brightly, apparently he loved the question and nods energetically, even if he felt embarrassed seconds after for doing so.
Soon, you take his place, undressing him faster and straddling your hips on his lap. He is hard, and the grey underwear completely soaked let nothing to the imagination. Deliciously tempting, you feel the impulse to your use your mouth before anything else, but the need of having him inside you is stronger… something invisible is making you desire his seed would fill your womb on and on and on.
You lift your ass from his lap, just a little for your hand to pass through your moved to the side panties and his hardness.
Law gasps when he understands you are not there to waist time on any other type of pleasure that his dick deep inside you.
“Now? but I don’t- I don’t have prot-“ he stutters, fighting in between the need of fucking you rough and reproduction health matters.
“You don’t really need it, I want you raw and rough in me…” you purr, guiding his sex towards your dripping entrance.
Your labia devours his tip, engulfing it with a warm slippery sensation. Law’s neck muscles tense, his head gets thrown back, a moan escapes his lips that resonates all over the shrine.
You do the same as you let yourself fall on top of him for his shaft to be finally entirely inside you. A whine so loud that mixes with his, and it becomes never ending as you start to hump on top of him.
Your hips move up and down, back, and forth and also in circles. Law’s fingers carve marks on the side of your hips and sometimes travel to the small of your back to press you against him with divine force. His hips, who up until now where immobile as pleasure struck him harder than he could ever expected, begin to move too.
“Nggh… let me fuck you faster…” he moans, using all of his strength coming from his core to impale you harder and synchronized to the rhythm of your jumps. The sound of wet sweaty skin slapping against the other become a sacred melody all around, while your nails carve marks as you grip from his heart tattooed pecs.
It doesn’t take you longer for your climaxes to arrive, and while your fingers intertwined with Law’s, your spasming walls milk him so violently… so needy, desperate for his release…
His frown intensifies, he even bites his lower lip but his eyes never shut as his pupils only fix into yours. As if his gaze was trying to anticipate something both knew, willingly to do whatever it takes to make his seed plant on you… deep, inside, of you.
“Fill me up…” “Keep it all inside…”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ...
“Wanda, may I ask you something?” you tap on her soft furry shoulder.
“Yes, honey. Tell me, what is it? Are you ok? You look very tired” the mink says, curious and perhaps a little worried about your state… truth Law wasn’t satisfied with just one round.
“So, I found a Shrine on the forest. It had a little statue; I didn’t get exactly what it was representing. But I remember reading a sign that said something about the warriors of the sun should prevail” you explain.
Wanda giggles. “Well, now I know why you are that tired… you went there with Trafalgar, didn’t you? it’s the procreation shrine, ruled by the sun lovers. That’s where we go to pray when we wanna bear children.. it said to be special forces that help us get pregnant”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Oh…”
#trafalgar law x reader#Trafalgar Law 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳#trafalgar law headcanons#trafalgar law x you#trafalgar law scenarios#trafalgar law#law headcanons#trafalgar law smut#law smut#law one piece#law scenarios#law x reader#trafalgar law x y/n#law x you#law x y/n#law imagine#one piece smut#one piece x reader#one piece x reader smut#heart pirates law#law#one piece x you#op smut#op x reader#op scenario#op imagines#op law#law op#one piece
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
ho, ho, hoe ⎜m.barzal
🎄pairings: mat barzal x afab!reader 🎄genre: romance ⎜christmas special ⎜smut ⎜friends to lovers⎜ 🎄warnings: mat is in love and not great at hiding it ⎜alcohol consumption ⎜ drunk sex ⎜missionary ⎜p in v⎜pretty vanilla overall ⎜ marking/hickeys⎜ just a dude in love ⎜awkward love confessions ⎜very minimal smut tbh ⎜ 🎄synopsis: an accidental christmas hook up, becomes so much more when your hoe of a best friend catches feelings. 🎄word count: 5.2k 🎄authors note: this is my first of several christmas fics - there will not be a part 2 but I hope you all enjoy!! christmas fic list
(unedited)
“Come on, you promised,” Mat said, his voice teasing as he nudged you out of the car. “It’s one party. You’ll survive.”
You glared at him, tightening your coat against the icy December air. “You ambushed me. I never said yes.”
“Details.” His smirk deepened, and you hated how easily it chipped away at your resolve. “Besides, you’ve been sulking at home for two weeks. Consider this an intervention. No one should be this much of a Grinch in December.”
It was impossible to argue with Mat Barzal. You’d learned that years ago. He had a way of wrapping his words in charm and layering them with just enough humour to get his way. It didn’t help that his ridiculous good looks made you forget you were supposed to be mad at him.
Mat was your best friend—the kind of friend who’d been there through every bad breakup, every celebration, every boring Tuesday night when all you needed was a movie marathon and pizza. He was also, as you liked to call him, a professional-grade hoe. Always flirting, always texting someone new, always shamelessly charming his way into trouble.
So, of course, it was Mat who had dragged you to this Christmas party. And of course, he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that the guest list included a suspicious number of his teammates, their dates, and not many people you actually knew.
You tugged your itchy sweater down and shot him a glare. “If this is your idea of a fun Friday night, I’m starting to question our friendship.”
“You’ll thank me later.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the door. “Trust me, you’re gonna have a great time.”
What Mat didn’t say—and wouldn’t dare admit—was that he’d spent weeks working up the nerve to do this. To spend more time with you outside the cozy bubble of friendship. To finally figure out if the feelings he’d been burying for years were one-sided or if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.
But Mat was a coward when it came to you. A hoe, sure. But only because it was easier to flirt with strangers than risk what you had.
Inside, the party was in full swing. Twinkling lights strung across the room, the faint scent of pine and cider in the air, and a playlist that was just loud enough to drown out awkward small talk.
Mat stayed close, his hand brushing yours as you made your way through the crowd. He didn’t miss the way you wrinkled your nose at the chaos, and his grin softened. “Alright, Scrooge. Let’s get you a drink.”
You let him pull you toward the kitchen, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on dragging me out like this. Don’t you have ten other girls you could be charming right now?”
His smirk faltered for just a moment, so brief you almost missed it. “Maybe I like spending time with you.”
The words hung between you, light but heavy, before he quickly added, “Besides, no one else would put up with your terrible attitude about Christmas.” You laughed, and Mat felt the tension ease, though the knot in his chest didn’t loosen.
One day, he thought.
One day he’d tell you the truth.
The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, the hum of conversation and Christmas music muffled by the thick walls. Mat handed you a cup of something that smelled strongly of peppermint schnapps and took a long sip of his own.
“This is terrible,” you said after a cautious taste, wrinkling your nose.
Mat grinned. “It’s festive.”
“It tastes like someone melted a candy cane into rubbing alcohol.”
“Exactly.” He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Happy holidays.”
You clinked cups with him, rolling your eyes. Typical Mat—always the life of the party, always ready with a sarcastic comment or a sly grin to keep you on your toes. You couldn’t help but smile as he leaned back against the counter, his dark hair slightly messy and his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the room.
“So,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “Having fun yet?”
“I’ll let you know when it starts.”
He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but join in. It was easy to relax around Mat, even in a setting where you felt like a complete outsider.
As the night wore on, the two of you lingered in the kitchen, your drinks steadily disappearing. Mat’s stories became a little louder, his laugh a little freer, and you felt yourself loosening up too.
“Remember that time we tried to make cookies in my apartment?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.
“How could I forget?” You grinned, leaning against the counter beside him. “You set the oven on fire.”
“It wasn’t a fire,” he protested, gesturing with his cup. “It was a… controlled open flame.”
“Your neighbours didn’t think so.”
“Yeah, well, they hated me anyway.” Mat chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But you stayed. Even when I ruined the cookies.”
“You had alcohol,” you said simply, and he laughed again, shaking his head.
“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, but before you could respond, he downed the rest of his drink and changed the subject.
“Okay, real talk,” he said, setting his empty cup on the counter. “What’s your deal with Christmas? Why do you hate it so much?”
“I don’t hate it,” you said defensively. “I just think it’s… overrated.”
“Overrated?” He looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire family. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s fine. It’s just not my thing.”
“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong,” he said, his grin lopsided. “You should let me show you how it’s done.”
“And how’s that?”
“For starters…” He reached over, tugging gently at the sleeve of your overused christmas sweater. “This thing has got to go. You look like a rejected elf.”
“Excuse me?” You stared at him, mock-offended, and he burst out laughing.
“I’m kidding! Mostly.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re the only person I know who can make something that ugly look good.”
The comment sent a flutter through your chest, but you brushed it off as just another one of Mat’s usual flirtatious remarks. He was always saying things like that—half-joking, half-serious—and you’d learned not to read too much into them.
Still, as the drinks kept flowing and the night wore on, Mat’s comments started to feel… different. Softer. More pointed.
“You know,” he said at one point, “sometimes I think you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his cup. “Just that you’re… you know. Amazing. Like, actually amazing. And you don’t even realise it.”
You laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Okay, you’re definitely drunk.”
“Tipsy, maybe,” he admitted, a crooked grin on his face. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Before you could press him further, someone burst into the kitchen, dragging Mat into a conversation about hockey and leaving you standing there, your mind buzzing as much from his words as from the alcohol.
As the night wound down, you found yourself back where you started—leaning against the counter, your cup nearly empty, with Mat by your side. The party had thinned out, voices from the living room fading into a low hum.
He was quieter now, his usual spark mellowed by the weight of the night and whatever thoughts had been lingering behind his lopsided smile.
“You’re staring,” you teased, breaking the silence.
“Am I?” His lips quirked up, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe I’ve just got a lot to think about.”
“You need a brain for that” You hoped your voice sounded steadier than you felt.
He hesitated, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the countertop. “Like how you’re still here,” he said finally. “When you could’ve bailed hours ago. But you didn’t.”
“Maybe I’m a sucker for bad holiday parties,” you joked, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten.
“Or maybe,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “you like spending time with me as much as I like spending time with you.”
It was the kind of thing he’d say all the time, casual and easy, except now there was something behind it. Something that made the air between you feel heavier. Charged.
Maybe it was the alcohol?
Or maybe it was something you had been feeling all night - a shift.
“Mat,” you began, but the words caught in your throat when his hand brushed against yours, tentative and testing.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “And I will.”
You didn’t.
You couldn’t.
Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. It wasn’t careful or calculated—just instinct, like you’d been waiting for this moment longer than you cared to admit.
His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and for once, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Not the bad music, not the overplayed holiday cheer, not even the fact that anyone could walk in at any second.
“Guess the party’s starting now,” he said breathlessly when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours.
“Shut up,” you muttered, laughing as you pulled him back in.
Mat’s laugh rumbled softly against your lips before his hands shifted at your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss slowed, turning into something softer, sweeter, but no less intense. His fingers traced light patterns along the curve of your back, and you found yourself melting into his touch, the rest of the room falling away entirely.
When the sound of voices drifted closer—someone coming down the hallway, loud and unsteady—you both broke apart, the spell momentarily shattered. Mat took a step back, his eyes lingering on yours, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.
“Guess we’ve got an audience incoming,” he said, nodding toward the approaching voices.
“Probably shouldn’t give them a show,” you replied, your cheeks burning. Your hands dropping to straighten out your sweater, your cheeks burning a bright red as you turn away from your friend - taking a few sobering breaths. You turn back to Mat slowly, your eyebrows lifting as you find him already staring at your, his cheeks burning as much as yours.
“I don’t think I’m finished with tonight.” He says slowly - adding, “but I’m definitely done with this party.” His Adams apple bobbing as he watches your mind turn a hundred miles an hour.
“Oh, well there’s a bar down the street thats usually open late.” You note, Mat’s brows furrowing as he shakes his head.
“That’s not—,” Mat lets out a soft sigh, his smile soft on his face as he spits out, “I’m trying to ask you to come home with me.”
The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric, like a string pulled taut. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly, or if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was playing tricks on you.
“Home,” you repeated slowly, testing the word on your tongue. Your voice came out softer than you intended, barely audible over the distant thrum of the party.
Mat nodded, his gaze steady but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for the answer. “Yeah. With me.”
Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat reverberating in your ears. The room around you blurred—the noise, the decorations, the faint smell of spiked cider—and all you could focus on was the way his thumb brushed against his palm, the slight twitch of his jaw as he waited.
This wasn’t like him. Mat, the always-casual, too-cool-to-be-flustered Mat, was standing in front of you looking like his world might tilt depending on your response.
You took a breath, your pulse skipping as you leaned in just enough that your words were for him alone. “Okay,” you whispered, the weight of the decision melting into something exhilarating as you saw his grin break through.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice quieter now, carrying an edge of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.
You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah.”
His hand found yours again, this time with more certainty, fingers lacing through yours as he gave a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here before someone stops us.”
You followed without hesitation, weaving through the scattered crowd, ignoring the knowing glances and side comments. The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, sharp and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth of the party. Mat didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent shivers down your spine.
And as he led you down the street, your hand still in his, you felt something settle in you, a kind of rightness you hadn’t expected and couldn’t deny.
The walk to Mat's place was quiet but charged, every step a wordless conversation. The city hummed around you—car engines purring in the distance, the occasional laughter spilling from a bar’s open door—but it all felt like background noise. The real energy was in the small, subtle touches: the way his fingers tightened around yours when your hands brushed, or the way he glanced at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.
When you reached his building, Mat paused at the door, his free hand fishing out his keys. He hesitated, looking at you with a crooked smile, his breath visible in the cool air. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, but there was an edge of seriousness in his tone.
You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart skipped. “Mat, if you don’t open that door in the next five seconds…”
His laugh was soft, barely louder than the jingle of the keys as he unlocked the door. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing it open and holding it for you. “Come on in.”
The warmth of the lobby hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The building smelled faintly of pine—probably some festive candle someone had left at the front desk—and you followed him to the elevator, the silence between you comfortable now.
Inside the elevator, the closeness felt different. More intimate. The quiet hum of the machinery filled the space, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat. You caught Mat glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Instead, his thumb resumed its soft pattern against your hand, grounding you.
When the doors slid open, Mat led you down the hallway to his apartment. The tension built with each step, your stomach doing little flips as you reached his door. He unlocked it smoothly, gesturing for you to step inside first.
His place was exactly what you’d imagined—warm, lived-in, and distinctly him. The couch had a throw blanket draped messily over one arm, and a few mismatched mugs were scattered on the coffee table. String lights twinkled softly along the windows, their golden glow casting cozy shadows across the room.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you.
“It’s not messy,” you replied, taking it all in. It was charming, actually, and it felt... safe. “It’s nice.”
Mat exhaled a laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing again. He reached out tentatively, his hand brushing your arm before sliding down to your hand.
“Still sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something vulnerable.
You nodded, your fingers curling around his. “Still sure.”
That was all he needed. Mat pulled you in gently, his other hand finding your waist as his lips met yours. This time, there was no hesitation—no second-guessing. It was slower than before, but somehow even more consuming, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you, the way you fit against him.
One of mats hands reach up, tugging slowly on your hair scrunchie pulling it from the bun, letting your hair fall loose, his fingers playing with the strands as he leads you to his bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours as your arms loop around his neck. Mat’s lips make his way down your neck - pressing soft kisses as he tugs on the hem of your sweater, his lips only leaving your skin as he pulls the thick fabric over your head, his eyes immediately dropping down to your bra.
“I’m about to fucking combust.” Mat groans, the two of you falling onto his mattress, your head buried among the pillows as Mat sits up on his knees, taking in the sight of you as he rips his own soft hoodie over his head, his hands reaching out for the button on your jeans.
“God, you’re stunning.” Mat coos, as he slides your jeans down your legs, throwing them off to the side as he smoothes his hands down your body, his hands stopping at your knees as he pushes them apart, his body slotting slowly between them as he leans down to reattach his lips to your jaw - sucking harshly against the soft skin, a soft whine escaping you the blood rushing to the surface as an obvious bruise starts to form.
“Perfect.” He whispers, against your neck as he picks a new spot and sucks again.
“Mat.” You hiss, as his hand slowly dips in the waistband of your underwear, gently teasing your clit, his teeth skimming the skin on your neck as he pulls away. “If you don’t put your dick in me right now I swear to god.” You continue, your nails digging into his shoulders as he dips an experimental finger inside of you.
Mat doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes quick work of his own pants, his cock painfully hard as it leaks with premium - his body leaning over your as he rifles through his bed side table. “Wrap it before you tap it.” He jokes, your hands pulling your own underwear down your legs, throwing them off to the side as you take in Mat.
“Don’t ruin the moment.” You sigh, but your smile betrays your serious tone. You always knew the hockey player had a good body - his fitness levels beyond the average person, but seeing his stone cut figure was about to make you drool - your hands reaching out for him as he rolls the condom on his dick.
“Tell me if you need me to stop.” He whispers as he crawls back on top of you, his body slipping perfectly between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as he lines himself up. His head dropping into the crook of your neck as he pushes in, his movements slow and purposeful as he lets you adjust with each inch. “Is this okay?” He whispers into your hair, his hips moving excruciatingly slow as he pumps himself in and out.
He smiles as you nod, your lip trapped between your teeth as you let out a soft whimper, his hands placed on either side of your head as his movements speed up a little. “My pretty little pillow princess.” Mat coos, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as the sound of skin on skin fills the room.
“Fuck Mat.” You hiss as his pelvis brushes against yours, your cunt clenching around him - his hips stuttering as he lets out a low groan.
“I’m close.” He hisses, your head nodding in agreement as your nails drag up his back tangling in soft hair, tugging lightly.
“I need more.” You breath out, Mat eye brows furrowing as he lifts himself up slightly, lifting a hand off the mattress, his fingers dipping between your body as he teases your clit softly.
“Shit.” He grunt as you squeeze around him again, his orgasm being pulled from him as he bottoms out inside of you, his fingers still working on your clit until he feels you clench tighter around him, a long whine escaping you as you cum. Mat’s body falls against yours, the two of your breathing heavily as your fingers continue to scrape against his scalp, a please sigh leaving him as his body melts on top of yours.
“Mat, I need to go to the bathroom.” You mumble, your eyes almost forcing themself closed as the heat radiating from your best friend tries to lull you to sleep. Mat lets out a grunt, lifting himself up just enough to capture your lips with his, his mouth spreading into a wide grin as he rolls off of you, discarding the condom as he lies on his back.
“There should be your favourite stuff under the counter if you need it.” He says softly, his eyes already closing, “Come back to me quickly.” He adds, his arm thrown over his eye as his breathing evens out.
You watch him for a few moments before dashing into his bathroom, facing the mirror as you take in your nest of hair and your flushed cheeks. “What the fuck did I do?” You sneer at your reflection, the bright red bruises on your neck sticking out like a sore thumb. You turn on the tap, using the cold water against your face before cleaning yourself up as quickly as possible, your frown deepening as you step out of the bathroom, Mat fast asleep in the bed, his body turned towards the empty space besides him.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you make your way over to the bed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his temple before pulling your clothes back on as escaping your best friends house.
+
+
Three days passed quickly - your phone constantly dinging with a barrage of messages from Mat. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Your phone sat face down on the counter, Mat's unread messages and missed calls an ever-growing weight on your chest. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to face him after what had happened.
Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel his hands on you, his lips against yours. The memory of his soft laugh, the way he had asked you to come back to him—it all made your heart ache.
You fucked your best friend.
And then you ditched.
What if this ruined everything?
What if he regretted it?
You finally pick up your phone, glaring down at the messages waiting for you;
Matty ♥️: Hey, just wanted to check in, is everything okay?
Matty ♥️: I know this might’ve made things awkward but maybe we should meet up and talk?
Matty ♥️: I know you’re reading these, please answer me.
Matty ♥️: I miss you.
Fuck.
+
+
Mat was - rightfully - going out of his mind.
He hadn’t heard a word from you—no texts, no calls. You were ignoring him, and it was eating him alive. Every time his phone buzzed, he scrambled for it, only to find some pointless notification or a message from someone who wasn’t you.
He couldn't get the memory of your touch, your laugh, or the way you had whispered that quiet "I'm sorry" as you left his place. That had stuck with him, playing over and over in his head.
What were you sorry for?
Leaving?
Crossing the line between friends?
Or something more?
Matty ♥️: I miss you.
His most recent text. He’d sent it hours ago.
No response.
Again.
“God, what did I do?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. You had been his best friend for years. He knew you inside out—or at least, he thought he did. But now, it was like there was this wall between you, and he hated it.
Mat stared at his phone, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. His apartment felt suffocating, every quiet moment filled with the phantom echoes of your laughter or the soft murmur of your voice. He could still see you everywhere—in the hoodie you had borrowed and never returned, in the stupid inside jokes you’d scribbled on his fridge, in the way his couch smelled faintly like your perfume.
The silence was driving him insane.
He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. He didn’t even hesitate as he shoved his keys into his pocket and stepped out the door.
The drive to your place was short but felt agonisingly long. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his mind racing with every possibility.
What if you didn’t want to see him?
What if this was it?
What if you hated him for what happened?
But he couldn’t sit around wondering anymore.
He needed to see you, to talk to you, to fix this—whatever this was now.
When he finally pulled up outside your building, the glow of your apartment light felt like both a taunt and a lifeline. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.
What was he even going to say? Hey, sorry I ruined everything, but also, I think I might love you? That sounded pathetic, even in his head.
But before he could second-guess himself, he was out of the car and heading toward your door. His knuckles rapped against the wood before he even realised what he was doing.
Inside, you froze. The sound of his knock sent a jolt of electricity through you. You hadn’t expected him to come here—not after how you had ghosted him. Your stomach twisted with guilt and something you couldn’t quite name.
“Hey, it’s me,” his voice came through the door, quieter than you’d ever heard him sound. “I—I know I should’ve waited for you to reach out, but... I can’t. I need to talk to you.” Your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren’t home, to let the silence stretch on. But the other part—the part that missed him so much it hurt—had already pulled you to the door.
You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “Mat...” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said quickly, his words spilling out like a flood. “But please—just tell me what’s going on. I’m going crazy over here.”
You bit your lip, a lump rising in your throat. The wall you’d been trying so hard to build was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to stop it. Slowly, you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see him standing there, his expression a mix of hope and heartbreak.
The sight of him made your chest tighten. “Mat...” you said again, your voice trembling.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, taking a small step closer. “For whatever I did, for whatever I said that made you leave. But you—you can’t just disappear on me like this. I need to know if we’re okay.”
And there it was. The question you had been avoiding. The answer you weren’t sure you even had.
You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else fell away.
“Are we?” you asked softly, your voice breaking on the words.
His brow furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But I want us to be.”
And just like that, the ache in your chest spilled over, and the tears you’d been holding back finally came.
Mat’s expression softened immediately at the sight of your tears. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back, unsure if you’d let him. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of your silence filling the small space between you.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the emotion. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to...” You trailed off, shaking your head as more tears spilled down your cheeks.
“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hesitation melting away. “You don’t have to apologise. I just—I’ve been losing my mind not knowing what you’re thinking. If I pushed you too far, if I—”
“It’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tears. “It’s not you, Mat. It’s me. I... what if we made the wrong choice?”
That stopped him. His brows knit together as he studied you, his confusion clear.
You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “What if we ruined everything? What if things will never go back to how they were before? You’re my best friend, Mat, and I don’t—” Your voice broke again, and you bit your lip hard, willing yourself to keep it together.
His eyes widened slightly, something soft and vulnerable flickering across his face. “You think I don’t feel the same way?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t know what to think. I just know I can’t lose you.”
He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But, God, you’ve got to stop running away from me. From this.”
“I don’t know how,” you confessed, your voice trembling.
He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Then talk to me.”
Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you, his hands finding yours with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He held them tightly, grounding you in the moment.
“I don’t regret what happened,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Not for a second. And if you think for one minute that I’d let that ruin what we have, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”
His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the fear and uncertainty that had been suffocating you. You searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but all you found was sincerity.
“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. “But I’m not scared of ruining what we had because what if I want something more?” He pauses taking in a deep breath, “What if I want you?”
The tears came faster now, but they felt different—lighter, freer. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you did the only thing that felt right.
You stepped closer, your hands slipping from his to cup his face, and kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed or frantic like the first time. It was slow and tender, filled with everything you hadn’t been able to put into words.
When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. “Don’t run away again,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “Please.”
“I won’t,” you promised, your voice steady this time. “I won’t.”
#mat barzal#mat barzal fic#mat barzal smut#mat barzal x reader#nhl#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#nhl x reader#nhl smut#christmas special#christmas smut#nhl christmas
375 notes
·
View notes
Text
perfect little family
dad!nanami x mom!reader
in which your daughter visits you at work and your perfect husband comes with her!
warnings: fem!reader
higuruma mention because i love him too
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the day started off ordinarily. you’d gone to work as you always did, even stopping by the bakery next to your daughter’s daycare to pick up a croissant. it was hot and buttery, just how you liked it, and it lessened the feeling of dread that came from working in a law firm every day.
“good morning!” you exclaimed to the assistant at the front desk, who smiled right back. you’d been good friends since you’d started working in the firm three years prior.
“good morning (y/n)! how was your weekend?”
“not long enough. the kiddo decided that she didn’t want to get any sleep, so kento and i were going a little mad. luckily, she’s at daycare for the day, so i can get some peace and quiet while at work,” you recalled, feeling some of the exhaustion seep back in.
“i know right! my twins wouldn’t sleep through the night for months at a time and i thought i would pass out right here at my desk.”
“i can’t imagine what we would do if there were two of her. she’s so cute, but she can be a menace. if kento weren’t around to help her i think i’d just have to quit working.” you loved bringing up your wonderful husband, as he truly was the person who made everything alright in the world.
“i’m so jealous!” one of your coworkers groaned as they walked by. “when do we get to meet this perfect husband of yours (y/n)?”
“sorry, we’ve just been so busy lately! no one told me the terrible twos last until they turn four! i promise i’ll get him to come out sometime!” you apologize, knowing that your coworkers have been begging to meet kento ever since you began working here. you two were a more private couple, so you didn’t really have pictures of him on your desk. just some notes from him or your daughter, as well as a calendar with all of the important dates on it.
“oh (y/n), higuruma said he left some papers on your desk to fill out before your meeting in an hour.” your friend at the front desk said, and you thanked her before heading there to fill them out.
the stack was menacing, but you got it all done, and ran to meet with your boss and the other attorneys of your firm. you slid the door open and shuffled to sit in your seat. higuruma gave you a slight smile in acknowledgement, and you smiled back. you’d become something like friends in the few years you’d worked at the firm, so at least he was a friendly face.
“alright, i’m here to make sure we’re all on the same page about the client we’re defending before our meeting with them on thursday.” your boss began, before making his way through the information in the documents you had been given earlier.
he was in the middle of talking when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. you grabbed for it, meaning to shut it off, before realizing it was from your daughter’s daycare.
“excuse me, i need to take this. it’s about my daughter. sorry!” you exclaim, rushing out the door of the meeting room and answering the call.
“hello! is this (y/n)?” a cheerful voice on the other side spoke.
“yes it is! is something wrong?”
“your daughter seems to be not feeling well, and she keeps asking for you. is there any way you can come pick her up?” you frowned, remembering that she had been fine this morning. not to mention the fact that your schedule was jam packed all day, and that missing these meetings would severly affect your performance in front of the client.
“i’m so sorry, my schedule is entirely full. however, my husband kento should be home today, is there any way you can call him?”
“of course! we’ll call him right now,” the daycare worker says, and hangs up. you sigh, and head back into the meeting.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
hours later, you were in another meeting, this time with some new attorneys, as your boss had asked you to discuss your firm’s processes when it comes to civil or criminal trials. you were currently presenting in front of a group of ten, when a knock echoed across the room. the group went silent, and the closest attorney stood to open the door.
as soon as the door was open a crack, someone pushed it open and ran over to you.
“mama! mama!” a little figure ran across the room and threw herself at you, barely making it so you could catch her. she had kento’s brown eyes and (h/c) hair, making her instantly recognizable as your daughter.
“sweetheart, what are you doing here?” you whisper at her, placing her on your hip.
“i wanted to see you, so daddy said we could come see if you were busy! but then the lady at the front desk said you were here in a meeting, so i came to see you!” she smiled, her grin showing the spot where she’d lost her first tooth a month ago.
“well we can’t play right now, but you’re welcome to watch me present if you can sit quietly in that chair over there.” you point at the empty chair, but she shakes her head.
“no mama! i want you to hold me,” she pouts, and you know that you have to give in. you sigh, before standing straight and grabbing the control for your powerpoint.
“slight change of plans. this is my assistant, (d/n), and she will be helping me present.” you tell the other attorneys, who are holding back laughter, before continuing your presentation.
once it’s over and the other attorneys begin to pack up, you take your daughter’s hand and lead her back to the lobby, where your husband is surrounded by a group of your coworkers, including the one from earlier.
“so, what brings you to the firm?” one woman giggles, clearly infatuated with him.
“my wife works here,” he says, pushing his glasses up with his hand to show off his wedding band.
“wife??? who’s your wife??” one of the other women exclaims, but at that moment your daughter chooses to run at him in a full spring.
“DADDY!” she exclaims, “THE LAWYER PEOPLE SAID I WAS REALLY PROFESSIONAL DURING MAMA’S MEETING!”
“were you now?” he says, placing her on his hip. “where is your mama anyways?”
“i’m right here,” you say, and the group of women turn to face you.
“(y/n)?? he’s YOUR husband??” the coworker from earlier says, and you nod.
“how can you not have pictures of him on your desk?? he’s gorgeous!” she yells, and you laugh.
“he mostly takes pictures of me and (d/n), but it’s more of just a safety thing so people don’t find out where he and (d/n) live.” you reply, smiling. you walk past them to your husband, who pulls you into his other side immediately.
“hi darling, sorry about her,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple. you hear a chorus of squeals behind you, and your friend from the front desk asking them to disperse, but you pay them no mind.
“it’s no big deal. i think the new attorneys were less stressed out because she was there.” you poke your daughter on the nose, and she giggles.
“anyways, we should probably get going. when will you be home?” kento asks, and you rest your head on his shoulder.
“early today, i just have one meeting left and then i’m done. so in around two hours?” you feel the vibration of his chest as he hums. you pull away and step back towards your office, still facing your little family.
“alright (d/n), say bye to your mom,” kento says, and your daughter waves with an enthused “BYE MAMA!”
you wave back, watching them leave. nothing could compare to the feeling of your perfect little family.
#nanami x reader#jjk x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami fluff#nanami x you#kento nanami x reader#jjk#jjk fanfiction#kento nanami#first time in a while posting fan fiction sorry if it's rough#reader works as an attorney with higuruma but nothing else is mentioned setting wise
710 notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆ 。⋆୨୧˚— CALL ME BABY !
𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. boyfriend! nishimura riki x fem! reader. synopsis. after spending hours on getting ready for a date and riki then cancelling, you weren’t going to forgive him quite easily! genre. angst ,, fluff. wc. 1280. 𝐥u𝐧a notes ⋆.˚ how i love riki!! schools done for a week omggg. <3 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂
if you enjoyed reading,, please reblog & like!! <3
YOU SAT IN THE CHATTER FILLED CLASSROOM, staring blankly at the board while your thoughts were churned with a mix of anger and frustration.
yesterday was supposed to be a special day. you had planned a cute date with riki, one you had been looking forward to the entire week.
you had spent hours getting ready, picking out the perfect outfit, curling your hair, and even doing a special make up look!
but just as you were about to leave, your phone buzzed with a message from your boyfriend,
"sorry, something came up baby :( , i can't make it today."
the disappointment had been like a punch to the gut. you tried to brush it off, and telling yourself that things happen, but it still angered you.
today, in class, you could feel the weight of that disappointment hanging over you. you had avoided riki all morning, not trusting yourself to keep your emotions in check.
when the door to the classroom swung open and riki walked in, you rolled your eyes, not being able to keep your pettiness inside of you.
he looked around, his eyes searching for you. when he finally spotted you, he gave you a small, shy and hesitant smile. you averted your gaze over to your notebook, pretending to be caught up in your notes.
he approached your desk, his usual playful and loud demeanour replaced with an unfamiliar one.
"hey, baby.." he said softly, taking a seat beside you. "can we talk? we haven’t spoken all day and it’s already last block…"
you nodded, keeping your eyes fixed on your notebook. "what is it, riki?"
his eye twitched as he grimaced at the use of his name, a look of hurt flashing across his face.
"i... i wanted to apologize for yesterday. i know i disappointed you, and i'm really, really sorry. something unexpected came up, but it’s no excuse. i should have told you sooner but it slipped my mind."
you took a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "it's not just about yesterday, riki. it's about you not considering my feelings. i spent hours getting ready for you, and you cancelled last minute. it really hurt, and you didn’t even bother explain why."
riki reached out to take your hand in his, but you pulled away huffing. he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know, angel, and i feel terrible about it, i’ll punch myself if you want me to! i want to make it up to you. please, just forgive give me and give me a chance."
you finally looked at him, giggling at the use of his words, as your eyes meet his. there was genuine remorse and sincerity in his expression, and it tugged at your heart, feeling warm.
"how do you plan to do that, mmh?"
he brightened slightly, his eyes lighting up with a spark of hope, and it made you feel even warmer, how could he even have this pull over you when you’re mad? you thought.
"i have something planned for after school. it's a surprise, but i promise it'll be special. please, just come with me?"
you hesitated, the lingering feelings of wanting revenge still fresh in your mind. but the dedication in his voice and the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world made it very very hard to stay mad.
"okay," you said finally, breaking the silence. "i'll give you a chance, i guess.”
riki's face broke into a relieved smile. "thank you. i promise you won't regret it."
the rest of the class passed in a blur. you were curious about what riki had planned, but you kept your guard up, not wanting to let your hopes get too high. when the final bell rang, riki was at your side in an instant, his excitement radiating off of him.
"ready?" he asked, his eyes shining as he looked into yours.
you nodded, allowing him to take your hand this time. he led you out of the school and towards the park nearby.
as you walked hand in hand, he kept glancing at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. when you reached the park, you saw a blanket spread out under a large tree, a picnic basket in the center, with a bow wrapped around a teddy bear.
"i know it's not much," riki said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "but i wanted to do something special for you."
you looked at the picnic setup, your heart melting at the effort he had put into it. "riki, this is absolutely perfect."
his face lit up with joy. "really? i'm glad you like it, only the best for my princess."
he led you to the blanket and helped you sit down. the basket was filled with your favorite snacks and drinks, and there was even a small bouquet of flowers. as you started to eat, riki kept glancing at you, a nervous look in his eyes.
"are you still mad at me?" he asked quietly, almost whispering as he awaited your response.
you took a deep breath, feeling the last of your anger melting away. "no, i'm not mad anymore, riki. but you have to understand how much it hurt when you cancelled last minute."
"i do," he said honestly. "and i promise i'll do better. you're important to me, and i don't want to make you feel like that ever again, i love you."
you smiled softly, feeling the sincerity in his words. "thank you, riki.. i love you too.”
you said whispering as you caressed his face in adoration, your heart bursting with love.
he beamed, leaning closer to you. "does this mean i can hear you call me baby again? i really missed hearing you say it."
you gigged, the sound light and genuine, riki smiling at the sound he had oh so loved. "i don’t know if you've earned it..." teasing riki.
riki's eyebrows furrowed as he nudged at your arm. "please, say it. just once."
you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. "okay, baby."
he let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing from the stress in his body. "you have no idea how much better that makes me feel."
the rest of the afternoon was spent with laughter and lighthearted talks. riki kept finding ways to make you smile, his usual playful self making a full return. as the sun began to set, casting a beautiful sunset over the park, he reached out to take your hand again.
"i'm really sorry for messing up," he said quietly. "i know i can be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but i really do care about you."
you squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "i know you do. just... don't forget our dates again, okay?"
he nodded vigorously. "never again. i promise."
“good” you replied, finally taking his face in your hands, kissing him softly.
you giggled into the kiss as you felt riki grinning as he let out a content sigh.
as you both sat there, two souls intertwined in love, watching the sunset with riki by your side, you felt peace settle over you.
the anger from yesterday had faded, replaced by the warmth of his love. you leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap around you in a comforting embrace.
"i love you, baby," he whispered, his voice filled with love.
you smiled, feeling your heart swell with happiness. "i love you so much, riki."
and in that moment, everything felt right.
© FAIRQVES 2024
taglist open <3 @luvlyhee @sjyunnsworld @shawnyle
send an ask or lmk in the comments to be added !! ㅤㅤ(ꈍᵕꈍ)ㅤ
#꒰ luna works! ꪆ୧ ꒱ *.⊹˚#enchive#en-n0va#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x reader#enhypen drabbles#enhypen fanfic#enha imagines#nishimura riki imagines#riki imagines#riki fanfic#ni ki x reader#ni ki imagines#ni ki fluff#niki imagines#niki x reader#riki x reader#riki smau#nishimura riki imagine#nishimura riki#enhypen fluff#enha fanfic#enha x reader#enha fics#riki nishimura x reader
879 notes
·
View notes