#I have a thing for round rimmed head lights

[riddlesrizzler]

𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙚

𝘱𝘵. 3 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘊𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘊𝘶𝘱

summary: A brief encounter sparks something Mattheo didn't anticipate.

characters: ceo! mattheo. teacher! reader

warnings: none

word count: 1.3K

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Mattheo Riddle was a creature of habit. His life was built on structure- strategic moves, calculated risks, and an ironclad routine that ensured he remained in control at all times.

Every Saturday morning, without fail, he ran the same five-mile route through the city. He liked the way the early hours felt before the world fully woke up, the rhythmic pounding of his feet against the pavement drowning out the constant noise in his head. It was the one time in his day that did not demand a cutthroat decision or a ruthless negotiation.

But this Saturday was different.

Because as he rounded the corner near the end of his run, something shifted in the air- something unspoken, something electric. And then as if the universe itself had orchestrated the moment, he saw her.

Y/N

She had stepped out of the coffee shop, the same one he had haunted for an entire week just to catch a glimpse of her. But this time, she wasn't in a galaxy covered dress or a coffee stained sweater.

No, today, she looked... softer.

She was wearing light wash overalls, the straps loose over her shoulders, layered over a delicate white eyelet top. Her hair was loosely pulled back, a few strands of hair effortlessly slipped to frame her face like it was intentional. In one hand, she held a coffee cup- probably something sweet, he imagined- and in the other, a small bouquet of flowers, a mix of wild daises and soft pink roses.

Mattheo swore under his breath as his pace instinctively slowed.

This was not part of his plan.

But Mattheo Riddle was nothing if not adaptable.

So when she turned and nearly walked straight into him, it was almost too easy to let it happen.

"Oh-" she gasped, her coffee sloshing dangerously near the rim. "Wow, we really have a habit of running into each other, huh?"

Mattheo smirked, shifting his weight as he took a slow step back, giving her space he wasn't sure he wanted to give. "Maybe you should start watching where you're going."

She smiled, something along the lines of amusement as her eyes twinkled in the sunlight. "I think you are the common denominator here, Riddle."

He nearly flinched at how easily she said his name, like it wasn't something to be feared. Like he was just some guy she happended to see at a coffee shop and not the CEO of a multi-million-dollar company.

Intriguing.

His gaze flickered to the colorful flowers in her hand. "Those from a secret admirer?"

She glanced down at them, a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, these? I got them from the farmers market downtown for my classroom."

Right. She was a teacher. The thought still sat strangely in his mind. She seemed too... radiant for such a thankless job.

She lifted the bouquet slightly, as if explaining her actions. "I try to keep fresh flowers on my desk for my students. They get so excited about the little things, and I like to make the room feel welcoming, we're like a family after all."

Mattheo couldn't quite pinpoint why, but something about that sent a tight pull through his chest. He barely noticed when his hand flexed at his side, as if itching to reach for something he wasn't allowed to have.

Instead, he shifted the conversation before it could settle too deeply. "And the coffee?"

She lifted it slightly, her smile turning playful. "Hazelnut latte. My Saturday tradition during the school year, it's like a reward."

Mattheo made a noise of disapproval. "Too sweet."

She gasped in mock offense. "excuse me, not all of us like our coffee tasting like tar."

Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head. "You haven't had good espresso, then."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "And I suppose you consider yourself an expert, Mr. spills-his-coffee-on-innocent-bystanders?"

"I don't settle for anything less than the best." The words came out without thought, smooth and precise like every other statement he made. But this time, there was something different lurking beneath them, something unspoken.

And by the way her lips parted slightly-barely-he knew she had caught onto it.

For a brief moment, the world around them faded. The street, the distant hum of cars, the early morning breeze. None of it existed. Just the two of them, standing close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of her vanilla perfume.

He should have walked away.

He should have nodded, said his goodbyes, and then continue on with his run.

But Mattheo Riddle never denied himself what he wanted.

So instead, he shifted forward slightly, tilting his head as he let his gaze drift over her face- slow, deliberate. "Give me your phone."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

His smirk deepended. "Your phone. Unless you plan on making me track you down every time I want to see you."

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by his directness. But then, to his complete and utter surprise, she laughed. Just like the one from yesterday that was soft and melodic, a sound that curled around his ribs and settled somewhere deep in his chest.

"You are seriously something else," she shook her head, her voice quiet with a hint of a smile. But then, to his satisfaction, she reached into the front pocket of her overalls, pulling out her phone and handing it to him.

Mattheo took it without hesitation, typing his number with quick precision before saving it under his name.

Just his name.

No titles, no formalities. Just Mattheo.

When he handed it back to her, their fingers brushed-brief, fleeting, but enough to send a jolt of something sharp through his skin.

She glanced down at the screen before looking back up at him. "So, what, you're planning on texting me coffee critiques now?"

He huffed a quiet laugh, stepping back just slightly, though the air between them remained charged. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll do something even worse."

She tilted her head, clearly intrigued, as her hair fell with her. "Like what?"

His smirk turned wicked, his eyes dark with promise. "Ask you out."

Her lips parted again, something that happened when she was caught off guard. Only, she didn't hide her reaction with laughter. Instead, she studied him- really studied him- like she was trying to figure out whether he was being serious.

He was.

He was more serious about this than he had been about anything in a very long time.

And then, a smile spread across her face. Not teasing, not guarded- just warm, just her. "Well," she mused, taking a small sip of her latte, "I suppose that would be terrible."

Mattheo's jaw ticked, a sharp sense of satisfaction circling through him. "Tomorrow night."

It wasn't a question.

Y/N raised a brow with a grin. "You're very confident in yourself, huh?"

He returned the grin. "Always."

She rolled her eyes playfully but didn;t argue. Instead she simply nodded, stepping back towards the sidewalk. "Alright, Mr. Riddle. Tomorrow night."

And then, just like that, she turned and walked away, her flowers swaying slightly in her grasp.

Mattheo watched her go, his pulse steady but hi smind anything but.

Because, for the first time in a very long time, something felt unexpected.

And he couldn't wait to see where it led.

ok so i’m officially obsessed with ceo! matty and teacher! reader.

[gomzdrawfr]

hey for no reason. if Raven was a car,, what type and colour of car do you think she would be…?

I had to delete a whole paragraph cuz in the midst of my delusions I thought you were asking what kind of car she would be (my answer was Aston Martin DB5 - dont judge I really love that car since I was a kid okay and I think she'll look cool as hell as one - and Porsche 914/6 shade 1110)

The simplest answers are black, silver and dark blue

I love really shiny coatings BUT personally I think for Raven her coating might lean more towards matte finish (look up satin black cellulose paint)

There are wayyyyy too many silver shade out there but lemme tell ya nothing beats a good ol bright silver metallic paint, I don't think the ones that are leaning towards pearl shades would suit her (slightly yellowish - look up Malaysia's Civic and BR-V in Platinum White Pearl Colour)

This one is oddly specific (and can you imagine I know this brand bcuz years ago Jeffrey Star's car paint job used one of these brands) but like cyborg blue or blue demon looks so hot (yay sparkles!!)

If we wanna talk about sparkles and fancy schmancy (but less durability) stuff it'd be vinyl wrap....like the gradients one ooooooo I think Raven would look so good with purple to blue matte kind OR OR the black to blue on the hood...

[hanasnx]

“ WHEN THE NIGHT CALLS ” — jason todd.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content ノ p in v ノ objectification ノ possession ノ roofie mention but not in use ノ gun is involved but no gun play ノ bondage ノ size difference ノ name calling: bitch. NOTES: for @xstarkillerx who drove me wild with one single line.

It takes a lot to please the ARKHAM KNIGHT, most will never know what his approval is like. You are of the few that receive it consistently. Sometimes it's even multiple times a night, frequently.

The HQ is full of bustling militia, passing around beer through strobing lights they crafted from old torches. Their leader was reluctant to let them celebrate, and without several external factors he never would've conceded, but you have a way of persuasion. "If you don't let your men cut loose once in a while, you'll overwork them. They're about to roll into Gotham, let them have this." you believe you had said. Apparently, he'd seen reason through his frighteningly iron grip on this project, or he'd seen your tits in his favorite cami. Either way, you pat yourself on the back.

Your visitation to the keg was met with several hungry men staring you down, offering you compliment atop compliment, one even brave enough to clutch his hand over yours on your cup to bring to the mouth of the nozzle for a refill. They're not stupid, they know you're spoken for—at least in some small way. The most clueless ones may be in denial over the fact you have a special relationship with their boss, but for most it's clear to see that the Arkham Knight stakes a strong claim over you. It's reinforced by your honeyed verbal gratitude towards these desperate men that's immediately followed by your loyal sauntering right over to where the Knight sits. Some deflate with a disappointment knowing you're sweet on them only to return to where you belong, others are smarter than that.

You tilt your head at your disinterested lover, slouched and knees spread in some makeshift throne the boys threw together. The mouth of his heavy handgun strokes up and down his thigh as the digital eyes of his mask watch past you as you approach him. Those gloved fingers tap in a graceful line at the armrest, beginning from his pinky to his thumb in a wave. Despite your hard work in coordinating this, he doesn't seem to be having any fun.

Your thumb swipes at the liquid at the corner of your parted lips, sweeping the bottom one to the side, letting it bob back in place. A motion he takes note of, and finally recognizes you're coming his way, visibly adjusting in his seat to afford you some room. You take the invitation, twirling on your heel to seat on his other thigh, the muscle pressed flush against your sex through your little skirt. A protective arm rounds you, resting the weight of his hand on your bare skin, the tip of his finger toying with your skirt hem. "I don't like that you wore this around them." he speaks into your ear, low and digitally grated. You both know the kind of people he's had to hire, and he's not fucking stupid. His men look at you the way dogs look at fresh red meat.

"I figured it would be alright. You know how to break a jaw, remember?" you reply slyly, an impish grin stretching your smile into something near dazzling. You raise your cup to take a swig, but you glance at him confusedly when the tip of his gun intercepts you, guiding the rim away from your mouth and back onto your lap. With furrowed brows, you inspect the foam of the beer, wondering if he'd seen someone slip you something while they were giving you a refill. Would they be that stupid to do it in front of their boss with eyes like a hawk? You don't know, but you set it off to the side just to be sure.

"Don't like that I'm supervising this thing either. We should be tying up the loose ends." he murmurs, tucking you further into his hard armor. The grip on your thigh suggests he wants to do more than tie up loose ends. A familiar thrill shoots up you, centering in your core, that sensational sting of a memory roots there, making sure you remember what it's like to be filled.

"Why? You wanna tie me up or something?" you suggest playfully.

You didn't think he'd take you seriously. His quarters don't have a headboard, but he didn't seem too worried about that. "Oh—Oh! Jay... Jason, fuck..." you sigh, a dense and gooey pleasure between your legs rolling your pretty eyes into the back of your head. The noises of sex fill the room, skin slapping skin, drenched pussy getting fucked loud and proud.

"Yeah? Yeah, pretty girl, you like that?" he replies with a haughty snicker, peeling your tepid hips off the sheet to meet his own. Big hands grasp the flesh of your backside, lifting and yanking you onto his dick as your tits bounce from the motions. "So wet. You were asking for this, struttin' around in that little outfit—" An obscene groan reverberates from his throat at the memory, throwing his head back as his whole body flexes. Your bound hands lay underneath you, rough rope biting into your skin in a most delicious way. "Fuck, baby, push me off if you don't want me to cum all up in this cunt." You mewl pathetically, squirming in his grip only for him to laugh at you. His gorgeous body rolls under your gaze, deliberate and slow, licking your insides with his fat cock. "Yeah, bitch, take it. Take it just like a fucking fleshlight. Let those cucks know you're cuffed."

[miryum]

You've Got Stars in Your Eyes so Let's Paint the Sky (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel “mourns” his wife

Warnings: Az pretending to be angsty (but happy ending), recreational drug use (tho not from Az or reader), gambling, drinking/alcohol, mentions of hangovers, timeline is a bit loosey goosey, a bit of Elain-bashing, guilt. (title is from Hold On by Extreme Music. Fic is not based off of it, but I was listening to it while editing and thought it fit well)

Word Count: 2.9k

Azriel was hardly one to get intoxicated. Yet there he was, sitting around the expansive fireplace with the other members of the Inner Court, tossing back his fifth glass of alcohol. 

It was not an uncommon occurrence for the Court to get drunk every once in a while and indulge in pleasure after their missions. Azriel had just returned from a two-week long commission and was slouched in an armchair big enough for his wings to fold comfortably behind him. It hadn’t been very taxing, but the trip had required secrecy. He couldn’t speak to anyone, just having to let his shadows zip in and out of places, returning to whisper in his ear. Admittedly, he had missed his family and couldn’t say no when Cassian asked him to join in some indulgences.

A cloud of weed surrounded Cass as he took another drag. Even Rhys had an ornate pipe between his lips, though he had yet to light it. Feyre sat on his lap, dragging a slow hand through his hair. Mor had convinced Nesta to play a round of cards and the pair had money laid out for the winner. Elain was sitting next to them, awkwardly watching. Amren was in Summer Court, visiting Varian.

The Shadowsinger didn’t like to drink. It usually brought back painful memories at night, though he was able to forget about them during the fact. He liked the sting of alcohol and its taste, but not the effects. The pleasure of it burning down his throat was always welcome, but the headache in the morning was uncomfortable. As he would lay in bed that next morning, memories swirled in his mind, either one’s from the night before or from his childhood. It was a gamble he was very rarely willing to take. And yet, as he watched Rhys finally light his pipe, Azriel couldn’t help but take another down of his drink. He swallowed thickly and the alcohol was like fire. The moment he compared it, he glanced down at his hands. Flexing his fingers, Azriel turned his stare to his whiskey. It was a lovely amber that seemed to glow in the firelight.

Azriel’s eyes wandered to his brothers and their mates. His finger slid around the rim of his cup, sometimes catching on the glass and disrupting his rhythm. His lips pressed together and his gaze turned to the fire. Shadows slowly curled around him, resting in his lap like a cat. They shifted and creeped lazily up to settle on his forearms. One wisped around his ear before brushing against his cheek, like a kiss. A deep sadness settled within Azriel. His heart weighed down as if by an anchor. 

He reached up and brushed at the leathers right over his chest, like he was searching for something that wasn’t there. One shadow climbed up to nestle in his hair, before settling down with a wistful sigh only Azriel could hear.

“You alright, brother?” Rhys asked, noting the shift in mood. Feyre glanced towards Azriel, resting her head on Rhys’ shoulder. Elain quickly looked over her shoulder.

The Illyrian nodded, exhaling through his nose. “Simply thinking,” is what he only replied.

Cassian blew out a smoke ring before turning to the conversation. “And what is it that you’re thinking of?”

Azriel only shook his head when he noticed Nesta peering up at him suspiciously. She laid down a card and Mor’s brows furrowed just a touch. It was things like these that one noticed being the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

Rhys studied Az’s face carefully. It wasn’t unusual for Azriel to be quiet, but something about this was unsettling. Something was on his mind and there was only one person that made Azriel this melancholy. Unfortunately, the weed was lowering his inhibitions, and he forgot the promise he had made to Azriel when the Archeron sisters had first arrived. “Thinking of Y/n again?” he asked in a whisper, though his voice was powerful enough to sweep the room. 

Mor instantly tensed, a contemplative frown on her face. Cassian blew out a long column of smoke, using his full chest to exhale. Feyre stared at Azriel, confusion swirling on her features. She stayed in the crook of her mate’s side, ever perceptive. Nesta rubbed a card between her thumb and pointer, about to set it down. She was the first to speak. “Who’s Y/n?”

The night was silent and it took a long time for Azriel to answer. He pressed his finger into the rim of his glass and the shadow in his hair seemed to deflate slightly. Even the shadows in his lap stilled before curling tighter around their master, either asking for comfort or trying to give it.

“My wife.”

Elain’s eyes grew wide and a thick blush covered her cheeks. Her stare darted down to his fingers, as if looking for a ring. When she didn’t find one, she turned away, head ducking down. Feyre lifted her head off of Rhys’ shoulder and even Nesta looked shocked. The senior Inner Circle, however, didn’t react. They all knew who Y/n was and they loved her dearly.

“I miss her. I miss my wife,” Azriel muttered, staring down into his drink.

Azriel could barely see through his tears. He stood, in a new custom suit, in front of his brothers. He sniffed once and Rhys clapped him on the back so hard he let out a cough. 

“Where is she?” Cass muttered from his place behind Rhys. Rhys then turned around and gave him a sharp glare. Amren rolled her eyes at their display and Mor gave Azriel an encouraging nod. The females were standing opposite them.

It was then that the door to the garden opened and Azriel turned to see his mate, you, walk out. 

You were wearing the dress you had always gushed about and your hair was styled beautiful. A bouquet of flowers was grasped in your hands, though Azriel could hardly see any of that. All he could see was your eyes. They had quickly become his favourite colour and something he loved to stare into. 

The tears finally began to fall. He could hardly remember the words the High Priestess said, too lost in the feeling of your hands in his and how utterly beautiful you looked. You had insisted on a wedding after learning of the human custom. Your mating bond had snapped over seven years ago, but Azriel was more than happy to keep indulging in your wishes.

Morrigan and Amren were your ladies and Rhysand and Cassian were Azriel’s gentlemen, something you insisted was vital in a wedding. You had also insisted on exchanging rings, slipping the band onto his fingers before he repeated the gesture to you.

Finally, Azriel had the chance to kiss you. He had kissed you plenty of times before, even before you were mated, but this felt… more complete. With one hand on your hip, he pulled you close. You let out a giggle as his other hand cradled the back of your neck. His lips curved up into a devilish grin before dipping you low. You let out a lovely squeal, arms looping around his neck, before he silenced you with a fierce kiss.

And so you were wed. And he would never let you go.

Mor let out a sigh, rising from her place on the floor. She stood for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. Eventually, she decided to refill her own glass before offering the pitcher to Azriel. He took it thankfully. “I miss her as well,” she said. “But it does not help to dwell on her, Azriel. It only makes you sad, and you know this.”

“What- what happened?” Elain asked, clearing her throat. Feyre shot her a stern look but Nesta hummed in agreement. As much as Feyre wanted to be considerate, her curiosity also burned.

In response to Azriel’s silence, Rhys provided quietly, “I sent her on a mission. Years ago.” The muscles in his jaw jumped and Feyre made a sympathetic noise, running a hand through his hair again. “I don’t believe Azriel has ever forgiven me since.”

Azriel let out a derisive scoff. He pressed his lips together and gave Rhys an eye roll. However, after a moment, he said, “it comes and goes.”

Elain shifted her position so she was sitting a little closer to Azriel and facing him. “How many years ago?” she asked, her voice calm and consoling. “Do you still have your ring?”

Cassian was the one to answer, brows pulling together like a drawstring. “Only two years,” he said. It sounded like he was scolding Elain, but Azriel didn’t notice, instead focusing on a shadow that was weaving around his fingers. 

The shadow drifted up to rest on Az’s collarbone and it dipped down to touch his leathers. With a sad, nostalgic smile, he tugged out a chain that was hidden beneath his clothing. Hanging down from it was a gold ring. “Even before her mission, I thought it would be best to keep it out of sight,” he murmured. “In case I was ever caught. I wouldn’t want to risk her.”

Mor, who had been drifting around the room, gave Azriel’s shoulder a squeeze as she passed.

Meanwhile, Elain glanced towards Feyre, a pleading look in her eyes. Rhys turned towards his mate and let his hand glide up and down her side. Feyre finally asked, “did the bond ever snap for the two of you?”

Azriel’s entire expression softened and practically everyone could see his shoulders relax. He wasn’t sure if it was the memories or the fire that sent a warm feeling through his chest and throughout his body.

You stood on your balcony, doors wide open and arms crossed. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be at the Town House. You wanted to be at your shared apartment with Azriel, one that was located in the city center. But, seeing as Az was being a stubborn male, you had decided to spend the night away.

Of course, Azriel wasn’t going to let you. You saw his shadows before you saw him. They zipped to you, racing up your body. They twirled around you excitedly and you couldn’t help your smile. Even if you were mad at the Shadowsinger, you couldn't stay mad at his shadows. “You know I love you, yes?” came his smooth, quiet voice from behind you.

You let out a breath and nodded. Azriel came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder and in your peripheral vision, you could see his wings twitch next to you, as if wanting to embrace you too.

“That’s not an apology,” you noted.

It was Azriel’s turn to sigh and his breath tickled your skin. “I know,” he murmured. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Entering your relationship, you were aware that apologising was hard for Azriel. He wasn’t used to making mistakes and was usually so guarded and careful that he didn’t. But you were different. You made him feel things that no one else had and he didn’t know what to do with those feelings. He was bound to make some mistakes.

Finally, he turned his head into your neck and whispered out, “I am sorry, my love.”

That’s when the bond snapped.

Your soul was yanked towards Azriel’s and the centre of the universe seemed to change. Everything was now focused on him. Everything now made sense. And based on the hopeful, desperate expression on Azriel’s face, he felt it too.

“We didn’t see them until practically a month after their mating ceremony,” Mor snickered. Cass let out a loud laugh, the weed making everything seem much more funny than it actually was. Elain pressed her lips together. 

Azriel shook his head fondly. His shadows suddenly darted away from him, but he was too inebriated to care. “Shut your mouth, Morrigan,” he muttered, though he was smiling. “What can I say? I love Y/n. It was a nice month.” He took a sip of his whiskey, trying to hide his grin.

Yet, before he could start reminiscing, a knock sounded against the wood of the doorframe. “Az, what are you telling these lovely people?” a new voice spoke up, a teasing lilt in the tone.

Azriel instantly stood. “By the Cauldron,” he murmured reverently. He didn’t notice the Archeron sisters peering curiously at the newcomer as he launched himself into your arms. You were obstructed from view to the sisters as Azriel’s wings curled around you protectively as he held you close. His grip was desperate and loving as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. “My love,” he whispered out so that only you could hear. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”

You held your mate close, a hand brushing calmly in his curls and your other on his back. “I’m not visiting,” you replied softly. “Rhys said I could be done. With the mission, I mean.”

Azriel had half a mind to turn and shoot an accusing look at Rhys, but he wouldn’t take his eyes away from your beautiful face. “My wife,” he muttered. He took your hand in his and kissed the ring you wore proudly. “Forgive me.”

“What for?” you asked.

He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours. “That promise I made to you years ago – I didn’t keep it. I let my emotions get the best of me as I missed you. Rhys didn’t deserve my anger for sending you away.”

You let out a laugh that was beauty incarnate to Azriel’s ears and Feyre shared an bemused look with Nesta. Since when did Azriel apologise? And for being rude to his brothers, of all things. To add to it, he had been smiling more with you in his arms than the entire time they had known him. Was it simply that the Shadowsinger had missed his mate? Was there another layer underneath that lay dormant until you were there to peel it back? What was Azriel truly like when the love of his life was home?

Cassian called you over and you exchanged hugs with the rest of the Inner Circle. Mor was ecstatic to have you back – her best friend had returned. You were disappointed that Amren wasn’t there to greet you, but you understood the needed time with her mate. After all, you were sure Azriel wouldn’t let you out of his sight after being reunited. 

You were then introduced to the Archeron sisters. You gave Feyre a little teasing bow and greeted, “my High Lady.” Feyre scoffed and swept you into a welcoming hug. 

Nesta was next to greet you and you congratulated her on being able to put up with Cassian. Azriel laughed at your joke, arm around your waist. Throughout greetings and introductions, he had never left your side. Every so often, he would place a kiss on your temple or give your hip a small squeeze. He truly was a different man around you.

Eventually, you stood in front of Elain. “Azriel made it sound like you were dead,” she said in hello. Her voice made it sound like she was passing blame onto your mate, but you tried to brush it off.

With a laugh, you said, “well, he gets rather grumpy whenever I’m away for too long. I’m sure you understand.” Some of Azriel’s shadows brushed lovingly along your arms and face.

“He wasn’t wearing his ring, you know?” She laughed along with you, albeit a bit awkwardly. “You have a lovely mate. You’re very lucky to have him.”

You raised your brow and exchanged a look with Mor. “Yes,” you agreed slowly, thinking that was an odd thing to comment on. “But Azriel can choose to wear his ring or not. And he talked to me about it beforehand. We both thought it best to keep our marriage under wraps as we went on missions.” You held up your left hand and Azriel took that as his cue to nuzzle his nose into your hair. “I put mine on only a couple hours ago, when I knew I’d be coming back.”

Elain’s cheeks filled with heat and she nodded. Muttering some things about how she was glad to meet you, she stepped back and towards Nesta. 

Impatient as ever when it came to you, Azriel soon ushered you away with the complaint on his lips that your attention wasn’t only on him. He wanted to see you back in your home. After mating, he had chosen a wonderful house special just for the two of you. Over the months, it had gotten harder and harder to live there without your presence. Oh, how he had missed you.

When you were finally alone, you cradled his face in your hands, finally able to kiss your mate after two years. One hand slipped down to pull on the chain that hung around his neck. “I need you to wear this now,” you whispered. 

Azriel chuckled and raised a brow. “Jealous, my love?” He pressed close to you, unable to take the feeling of you not cradled in his arms any longer.

“I think I’m entitled to some jealousy,” you replied. “After almost twenty-eight months without hearing your voice, seeing your face, or touching your skin, I get some leeway.”

“Hmm, that you do,” he muttered, slipping his ring back on proudly. “Now, will my beautiful wife accompany me to our home?”

“With pleasure.”

[lurkinginnernarrator]

“Shen Qingqiu! What is this nonsense about Qing Jing requisitioning a disguise for one of its members?! You would dare send one of your little disciples trussed up like a pretty young mistress! Even I thought you better than”–

Qi Qingqi’s voice cut off on an extremely strangled note. She and the other Peak Lords all seemed unable to capture an ounce of oxygen.

Cang Qiong’s finest were gathered in a elegant war room, massive tables shoved to the side, covered with maps and intelligence reports: A mind-numbing amount of information scattered across sheaves of paper and neatly written on large boards; they spanned the walls not open to the serene nature of Qing Jing’s outdoors.

The murmuring of focused and purposeful Qing Jing disciples hushed at Qi Qingqi’s outraged exclamation and the sudden appearance of a majority of their shibo.

In the midst of the room, Shen Qingqiu stood, hands frozen in the action of sheathing a dagger to his inner thigh. While normally, such a sight would be arresting enough, it paled in comparison to the vision Qing Jing’s Lord made currently.

His eyes caught wide and surprised were rimmed with coal and rouge, claret lips parted infinitesimally. Gentle strands of hair framed his face and cascaded down his curved back. Hair ornaments tinkled and glittered in the silken black waves.

Delicate, airy robes flirted with graceful wrists, red lacquered nails making a pleasing contrast. Carmine and the tones of blushing rose danced about Shen Qingqiu, gentle fabric draping from his shapely frame; soft skin of his collarbones an–and the rounded mound of his, hi-his bust? Exposed. As was the refined line of sinewy thigh.

S-sshink!

Shen Qingqiu’s hand leaves the handle of the blade, nebulous skirts falling back into place, his pale thighs veiled from sight once more.

“Qi-shimei, Liu-shidi, Zhangmen-shixiong?”– Shen Qingqiu's eyes quickly take in the numerous uninvited visitors, yet his lilting voice doesn’t quicken from its whiplike cadence –”To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Yue-shixiong and my shidimen?”

For some unknowable reason, Sect Master Yue and the Bai Zhan War God forsook courtesy for silence.

“Rather, to what does this Master owe my beloved sect siblings appearance,” the polished voice drawled, “ whose purpose is no doubt to meddle in the affairs of a Qing Jing operation? Without, may I add, any proper knowledge of the purpose of this operation to begin with?”

Mu Qingfang, who to this point was standing unobtrusively to the side, stepped forward, courteously greeting the Maste– Lady? Of Qing Jing.

His fellow peak lords prayed blessings, to be gifted such a level headed martial brother!

“These shidi apologize for the discourtesy, Shen-shixiong.” Mu Qingfang’s voice may have hesitated, or stuttered, and almost uttered ‘shijie’ but no one noticed because they were too caught up in their own lawless thoughts.

A Qing Jing disciple helpfully handed Shen Qinqqiu a fan. With a crack! It met his open palm, a gavel descrying doom.

Haloed in light, the Qing Jing Master stood like a wrathful goddess, a holy judge tired of the sullying presence of mortals.

Qing Jing’s Master, when garbed in his usual attire, was a sharp, intimidating figure. Graceful in his execution of masculinity, not unlike a dagger. Moreso, then, donning the mantle of femininity. Some intangible attributes changed, that when masculine, repelled, yet when feminine compelled. Those certain peak lords were unprepared to handle such a thing.

Shen Qingqiu tsked, turning his back he subsequently ignored them after hand-waving a disciple into acting as the hospitality.

The wrong-footed peak lords were bundled off to the side and laden with tea and light victuals, being appeased into silence and unobtrusiveness by snacks. If some of the scholarly disciples secretly thought of it as the kiddie table, that's for them to know, isn’t it?

[gladiatorcunt]

- GUESS | XIII.

you wanna guess the color of my underwear, you wanna know what i got going on down there

cw: kinktober prompt (ass worship), yoga trainer!oikawa, fem reader, rimming, body hair, scent & piss mentions, light implied yandere, public sex (?), hinted possibly one sided iwazumi x reader, light dub con, mentions of fisting, implied that oikawa’s been into reader from the start, semi obsessive behavior, porno plot, self degradation, food play mention

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“Mmh, just like that cutie, lift those hips up for me.”

You’ve been coming to the new yoga class that just opened up at the gym for a while now, a couple months a few times a week, you’re a bit of a homebody otherwise and yoga is the one physical exercise you don’t mind doing often. You like being flexible, able to bend your body in shapes and ways another person would have a harder time doing. And you’re not having sex, so any physically strenuous activity that leaves you sore until you’re put back together by your healing body does wonders for you.

Plus you like the way the leggings hug your well endowed assets, so do a lot of the men in the gym. You wear the form fitting workout clothes for yourself first and foremost, but you can’t lie that a little attention from afar (sometimes too close up by one of the trainer’s usually steps in to help you) boosts your ego. If there’s one thing in life you have to be proud of, at least you have your ass. Squishy and round, jiggles when you walk and never disappoints you unlike everything else in your life.

The same ass that’s raised high in the air in front of your yoga trainer, a more than handsome man in his late 20’s with wavy milk chocolate colored brown hair and a smug twinkle in his eye that’s connected to his smarmy always on his face (even when he seems pissed) grin. You’ll never forget the confidence in his posture, standing tall at the front of the class and introducing himself. Tooru Oikawa, just moved here from japan, his best friend owns the place so it wasn’t too much trouble to get hired, and SO excited to start this journey with you all!

You’ve stayed at the back since then, anxiety swirling in your belly when he’d make the rounds to correct your forms and check on you all. But he’d only pass by with a brisk touch to your back and a ‘good job’, maybe a semi solid pat if you were one of only ones who had a good form, and not to brag, but that’s been the case on more than one occasion.

Now you’re undergoing a little one on one session, he asked you to hang back, noticing you’ve been holding yourself back. You’ve never made much of an effort to talk to him and despite the fact that you’ve never needed this kind of focused attention, he’s been feeling a bit bad that you keep to yourself so much. He doesn’t bite you know, not unless you want him too.

It’s an odd flirtation, something you’ve noticed he never does with anyone else in the class. Oikawa’s attractive enough that you’d balk at him abusing his privilege to drown himself in quickies in the gym’s showers, as off putting as it’d be. But he’s very professional, chuckling at one of the older women making a pass at him and politely turning her down.

So you got in your own head and knew that since there was always room for improvement, surely there must be something he could help you with. So here you are, going through basic poses first before he pushes you into the more advanced ones. You told him that other than increasing your flexibility, you weren’t really sure what other areas would be best for you to get better at.

Oikawa smiled and squeezed your shoulder, no worries, he’ll walk you through a little assesment mini program. Since you mentioned not having done yoga seriously until now, there could easily be something you didn’t even realize needed to be attended to!

“Remember, we want to really feel that stretch, arch your back and lower your head. Breathe in, breathe out.” He instructs, settling a wide palm on your lower back. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’s so close, if you backed up to regain your footing your ass would press up against his bulge. Not that you can tell if he has one right now, but you’re kind of hoping he does. It’s just another part of the fantasy, that’s all this is, you tell yourself. You’re going to soak up the attention, make more small talk as you gather your things and leave, and sit at home suffocating your vibrator until your legs turn into jelly.

“Am I doing this right? My legs feel stiff.” You shift your weight from side to side, your hips gently sway, you could be too in your own head but having Oikawa’s pretty eyes scrutinizing every detail of your body is fucking with your confidence.

He hums, a trail of heat sizzles down your back as he slides his palm down to cup your hip. “If something seems off then it probably is, just widen your stance and put your feet further apart, loosen up your hips. You’re definitely a little tense, cutie.”

Okay so he’s definitely flirting with you, but you don’t startle and shoot back up so you can get out of here. Instead you internally cringe at the squeaks your yoga mat produces, adjusting your ankles to line up more with your shoulders. You keep breathing, in and out, letting your energy flow through your limbs as you maneuver them into the different positions.

Oikawa Tooru burns like a furnace in hell, you realize. Despite having a firm grip on your hip, he’s standing a respectable distance away from you as you bend over. You can still feel the heat radiating from him, his sleeveless muscle tank and his black shorts.

“I think that’s better. Sorry, it's hard for me to relax, I guess.”

“No worries, I totally get it, you do seem like the type to be wound up but that just means we get to unspool your thread and unravel you so we can get to the start and rebuild.” His free hand curls around your other hip, his thumbs absentmindedly stroke the crease where they disappear into your thigh.

This private coaching session is steadily becoming what you’re afraid of, and so horny for you could shoot off into the sky like a soda bottle chocked full of mentos. You didn’t notice when Oikawa got even closer, his blunt hip bones cradling your ass in between them. Could he just be weirdly, and grossly in most people’s eyes, friendly? Does he even see what he’s doing as being the tentative first step into fucking you in a public gym yoga studio?

“Um, yeah, thank you by the way. I’ve felt so much better since I’ve started taking your class, you’re a lifesaver even if I still have a lot to learn.”

“Oh, we all do, including me, believe it or not. I remember you from back then you know, so shy and fidgety, like a baby bunny.”

“You’ve really filled out too. Excuse me for saying this but I know this ass wasn’t always like this, so pretty and plump.” Toned hands drag over the swell of your cheeks, not digging in and kneading the globes, only ghosting their touch along the clothed flesh.

You subconsciously wiggle your hips, Oikawa’s breath hitches behind you, and that is perhaps the most monumental thing you could have achieved today. Flustering the man who gets hit on a billion times per day and gives it back tenfold, a competition of who can keep their cool, that’s how he operates in most things you guess. Like he’s always competing against somebody even if they don’t know, and he just has to win or it’ll be an ugly spot on his record. A record only he keeps and only he sees, but you sense that that’s more important to him than anything else.

“Oh, thank you. I just do a lot of squats every morning and every night after class, nothing crazy. Yoga’s the only other kind of workout I do consistently, anyway.” You're still in what feels like a perverted version of downward dog, briefly taking stock of the strain in your legs now trying to hold the position.

Oikawa makes a surprised sound, “Really? You have such a great body, I’m shocked you’re not a gym rat like me and all my buddies. Some people are just lucky, huh cutie?”

He says it, humble and charming, like he doesn’t also consider himself one of those people. Your cheeks heat up at the idea of a musclehead like Oikawa complimenting your curves, your chubby gathering of fat even in places some people would find ugly, your wideset bones and plush tummy.

A pin drops, “Alright. I think you’ve been in that position long enough, why don’t you go ahead and lower your knees into the table top pose, bring your head up slowly and remember to breathe. In, out, good girl.”

His hands guide your hips down, he steps back to let you settle your knees on the mat. You hear the foam sink behind you, he’s sort of kneeling too, halfway sitting on his legs, the backs of his feet facing the ceiling. Oikawa looms over you like this too, he has a presence you can be lost in before you actually see him, which you definitely can in the wall to wall mirror in front of you. The yoga class was a dance studio before Iwa decided it didn’t fit with his vision, you remember Oikawa telling you all on his first day.

He must feel your wide eyed stare, because he looks up too and suddenly you’re locked in a charged moment.

Neither of you says anything as his feather light touches on your ass become firmer, he’s outright groping you and pulling you back to be flush against his crotch.

He grinds his half hard bulge against you, keeping eye contact with you through the mirror.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to notice me, cutie. Been wanting to do this for so long, you have no fucking idea.” He huffs, adjusting his clothed cock to rest between your cheeks. “You’re so hot, every time I saw you bend over I wanted to cancel class and take you right then and there.”

You gasp and rock back into him, shaking your hips and digging your knees into the mat. You have half a mind to look around the room for the camera and porn filming crew but reality is clearly stranger than fiction, your hot yoga trainer’s stiff cock is sandwiched in your ass crack.

He takes his sweet time dragging his length up and down, the tip catches in the divot of your leggings where your hole is, you’re a little disappointed that he’s not humping you like a rutting dog but you suspect that that’s part of the fun. Oikawa knows you want him so bad that he’ll restrain his urge to fuck you through the floor all the way to the center of the Earth just so you can endure some teasing. You’re so shy and withdrawn but those girls are usually the best kinds of freaks, all he’s doing is bringing it out of you, call it another one of his famous coaching methods.

The door’s locked, so if Iwazumi catches on to what’s happening and tries to rain on your parade, he’ll have to listen to a symphony of moans and slick sounds of bare sweaty flesh slapping against bare sweaty flesh. Oikawa laughs and tells you that Iwa’s been eyeing you too, when you check in at the front desk, when you’re getting water, when you head into the changing rooms to get ready for his class, it’d be helplessly cute if you weren’t already taken. Or, you’re gonna be, at the very least.

“When we’re done, I'll clean you up with my tongue and we can go on a little date. I can take you out properly this weekend but I'd hate for you to think that I was just trying to hit and quit it. I’m not the type to pump and dump, not anymore.” He speaks into the divide of your ass cheeks, having sunk to floor fully and doing some bending over of his own to be at eye level with your lower half.

You bite your lip when he starts nipping at you through your leggings, he smiles into the fabric and bites down harder, soothing the sting with slow licks. Oikawa kisses all over the swell of your behind, sniffing the scent of your perspiration and your body oil in between, medicinal vanilla and natural musk. You can see him hump the mint green yoga mat as he reaches up to hurriedly tug your leggings down enough to expose your ass. Your black thong frames it perfectly, but Oikawa pulls them off too and stuffs them under the waistband of his shorts.

He groans at the sight of your bare skin as it bounces free to say hello, taking a handful of each cheek and squeezing the life out of them, the thick flesh bulges between his fingers so he swiftly smacks each one, for tempting him and making his cock so hard it could explode into a blood filled mess of cum and sticky pubes in his pants. You cry out, rocking forward only to be immediately pulled back so he can keep kissing your ass.

He dotes on it like he would your face or mouth, almost giggling before and after quick pecks that develop into long slurps at your rim. He runs the tip of his nose over the hair on your crack, wetting it in messy swipes of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking good, baby, better than pastry i’ve ever had, and believe me, you don’t even want to know how much money i spend at the bakery across the street from my apartment. You’d love it.” He moans, saying hello to your winking hole by dotting barely there kisses right in the center before toying with you, dipping the tiniest bit of his tongue in your walls, then dragging his saliva all over your pucker. “It’d be fun to eat something off you, we could make a date out of it. Go up to the counter and pick which ones would taste the best when I eat it off your fat ass, but I think they’d all be amazing, don’t you?”

You nod rapidly and throw your ass back on his tongue, burning in shame with every smug laugh and grunt as Oikawa beats around the bush so to speak, doing everything under the sun with your ass but properly eating it. You wish you were in your shitty apartment, sitting on his face and drowning out the sound of your arguing neighbors with your slutty moans. He looks up from behind you to check on how you’re doing, and thank heavens because he finally buries his face in your ass and slurps at your puckered hole.

You lose yourself to the experience, feeling his wet tongue fuck into your ass hole and carve out little pieces of you for himself. He pays zero attention to your pussy, which is why it’s so wet and dripping onto the mat beneath you, it’s like he’s too obsessed with your thick globes to even notice, but you don’t hate it. It’s hot to have a guy be eye socket deep in your ass but also have him neglect where you really need his attention, there’s a dichotomy between being the mousey way you’ve gone about your life and the whorish behavior this man is urging you to consider.

You looked fucked out already, hair all over the place from how much you’ve messed with it and lips dropping open on drawn out squeals and whines. Oikawa is eating your ass out like it’s his main job, the one he puts in overtime for and goes above and beyond to be employee of the month at. He thrusts his tongue a few more times before apparently deciding that’s not enough and slipping in one of his absurdly long fingers alongside it.

You whimper, clenching around both as you just sit there in that damn table top pose and let a man you barely know play your ass like a well oiled fiddle. He shakes your cheek in his hand as he digs his tongue into you, delicately fingering your hole until it goes slack enough for him to insert another. You’re impossibly tight, as much as your clit is howling for it you know perfectly well that any serious penetration isn’t possible. From the impressions you got, Oikawa’s packing enough to tear you until you bleed if you don’t use lube or prep thoroughly beforehand, which you’d do anyways but it’s a shame.

Your clit throbs painfully but Oikawa pulls back with a gulp of air to level you with a warning look in the mirror, which only gets you wetter, you twitch again because he’s one of those. There’s a brief flicker of defiance, you could pout and touch yourself anyway, you don’t owe this ridiculously attractive man anything and he’s the one motorboating your ass cheeks and not the other way around, so shouldn’t you be the one in charge?

Then his eyes darken, you get another sharp smack and you table the discussion for some far off occasion.

Oikawa smiles, gently kissing the apple shaped swell of both of your cheeks, “See, I know from your time here that you can be such a good listener, you’re so sweet for me, I know it. You can’t hide that from me just because you want to throw a fit, I said we’d get to know each other afterwards, didn’t I?”

You scoot your ass back in apology, silently begging him to get back to it. He must really be horny too because he dives straight back in, groaning into your rim and french kissing your hole. The hand not doing its best to push its entirety into you kneads your fleshy ass cheek, molding it like dough and separating it from its twin, giving him easier access to your pucker. He ‘tsks’ not even a second later, crooking his two fingers and letting go off your cheek, humming in contentment when it bounces against his face and he’s smothered again.

He wonders if you’ll let him fist you, give you a unique one of a kind rose to swoon over and keep tucked away inside you later, the perfect first date gift from your future boyfriend.

You can even do couples yoga in the morning after your first night together!

“Let’s see if you can cum just from getting your ass played with.” Punctuated by a fourth finger sliding into the knuckle in your ass, he scissors his fingers to stretch you out and playfully acts like he’s gonna sink his whole fist in, pulling out his fingers to curl them into a ball.

The barest hint of blunt pressure on your hole sends a flood of your juices down his arm, smelling somewhat pissy which gives Oikawa truly the most impish grin imaginable.

[burningembers91]

Family Unit - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Loving You From Afar The Shape of You

Synopsis: You and Park Gyeong-Seok decide to take the next step in your relationship

You could feel Na-Yeon’s gaze on you, could hear her quietly giggling as she stood by your side of the bed. You sleepily opened one eye, then the other, smiling as you saw her waiting for you to wake up. The Disney Princess pyjamas you’d bought her were baggy on her thin little frame, but she looked so cute in them. “Good morning,” you whispered, pulling back the duvet so she could crawl into bed next to you. This had become your new morning routine; Na-Yeon would wake you up at the crack of dawn, you’d snuggle in bed, try to get a few more minutes of sleep, and then you’d get up and get ready for the day. On the days you didn’t work, you usually took Na-Yeon into her room to play, to give Gyeong-Seok space to sleep. He was a light sleeper though, and always heard you get up. sometimes he’d pretend to stay asleep though, just to give you and his daughter more time to bond.

You hadn’t left his apartment since the night you discovered the drawings. For six blissful weeks, you’d spent every day and night here, only returning home to fetch a new bagful of clothes or to do a load of laundry. You’d go to work during the day, while he stayed home with Na-Yeon. In the evening, he would head off to teach his night class (which he could now proudly say was a permanent job), and you would look after Na-Yeon. You didn’t get to spend much time together, your catch ups usually consisting of soft, sleep-hazed sex when Gyeong-Seok returned from work, followed by some whispered conversation before you fell asleep. Every moment you had together was precious, and you cherished every second.

You laid in bed with your eyes closed, listening as Na-Yeon chatted away. She never ran out of things to say, laughing and giggling. You weren’t always entirely sure what she was talking about, but it always made you smile.

Gyeong-Seok stirred next to you, yawning loudly as his arm came round to scoop you and his daughter into a hug. He loved his new family; and for the first time in years, he felt lighter than air. Na-Yeon was still sick, but he didn’t have to deal with the burden alone anymore. You’d slotted in so perfectly, treating his daughter like your own. Nothing was too much for you, and Gyeong-Seok didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay you for your kindness. You were still sleeping on the broken sofa bed, the springs digging into your backs each night. If you were uncomfortable, you never complained. His first paycheck from his new job would be arriving soon. Na-Yeon’s treatment would again take up most of the money he earned, but he was desperate to get a more comfortable bed for you to sleep on. He’d thought about asking you to move in permanently, to see if you could get a place together so you could have a proper bedroom, like a proper couple. He hated having to sneak around his own living room like a teenager, having whispered conversations with you so you didn’t take his daughter. He worried it was too soon though; life was so perfect at the moment, and he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too quickly.

The three of you lay there bed together, you and Gyeong-Seok listening to Na-Yeon babble away. His arms pulled you in closer, his lips pressing a tender kiss on your earlobe. He wished he could freeze time, wished he could bottle this moment and keep it forever. But you’d need to get up soon to get ready for work, and his daughter would need her breakfast.

“I need to do some laundry tonight,” you said, after you’d showered and gotten ready for work. “I’ll take Na-Yeon back to mine tonight, maybe get us a pizza as a little treat.” Gyeong-Seok looked at you over the rim of his coffee mug, eyes alight as he took in your silk shirt and burgundy pencil skirt. It still utterly baffled him that you loved him; that a poor, scruffy painter could be lucky enough to find someone like you. “I hate having to constantly go back and forth,” you sighed, taking a seat next to him at the kitchen table. “I’ve been thinking actually…” You smiled slyly, pulling something from your bag. “This place has just come up, in the same building we’re in now. It’s a 2-bed place, and it even has a small balcony. I was thinking, if we put our money together, we could just about afford it.”

You sat waiting for his answer, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously as you watched him look over the apartment. You knew it was hasty, but you’d never been more sure of anything in your life. Your little family unit needed a bigger place to grow. The apartment overlooked the playground, and you already knew you’d be out there with Na-Yeon each day. Money would be tight, but you’d make it work, and once Na-Yeon was better things would be easier. “I really like it,” he smiled, “are you sure you want to do this?” He didn’t want you to feel like you had to move in with him, like you had to somehow make life easier for him. “Of course I want to,” you smiled, leaning forward for a kiss. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Later that day, Gyeong-Seok arranged a viewing, and two weeks later you had the keys. The first thing he did was throw away the old sofa bed, before proudly placing the bed from your apartment in your new room together. You finally had your own space, somewhere where you could be a proper couple. As the three of you sat down for dinner that night, surrounded by moving boxes and bubble wrap, Gyeong-Seok was sure he’d never been happier.

[jilixthinker]

SKZ AS SUBS - MAKNAE LINE 🥀

as the self-proclaimed sub!skz ambassador, i felt the need to share my version to the internet just because this was boiling inside of my brain for too long, so... i am sorry ♡

content warning: sub!skz, dom!fem reader, unprotected sex, mention of subspace, dacryphilia, perv tendencies, overstimulation, light BDSM, boob sucking, mommy kink, noona kink, anal play (m receiving), cross dressing, feet play, lactation kink, food play, dumbification, pet play, choking, breeding kink, cum play, virgin, reversed corruption kink, sex toys, masturbation, oral sex (both receiving)

HYUNG LINE MAKNAE LINE

➛ Han

- whiny™️. the word whiny was created for hannie himself. he becomes a sobbing mess after just one second of you touching him, even if it's not sexual;

- dacryphilia will soon become one of your biggest kinks, even if you didn't explore it before meeting him. he cries, pants, sobs and hiccups at every slight friction and will plead to not to stop, ever;

- tears are not the only thing making your boy messy. because he also drools. a lot. he does it when he is on top of you, face hidden in the crook of your neck, and when it's you topping him, cheek pressed into the soaked pillow under his head;

- with hannie you are gonna have multiple rounds almost everytime. he doesn't last too much, poor angel, because he is always overwhelmed with how warm and tight and wet you feel and he just cannot hold himself. he recovers very fast though, and he will happily suck you into his mouth in those few minutes of waiting;

- be prepared, because he is horny 24/7, and gets pussydrunk very quickly. he is up to anything you can give him? handjob before going to work? quickie in the restroom? filthy audios to keep him satiated? he wants it all;

- he has slight perv tendencies. it's consensual of course, and you told him multiple times that you are perfectly fine with everything he does, but he likes to pretend you don't know. the rush of adrenaline he gets by stealing your panties to bring them to work and taking dirty photos of you when you are not looking makes him feel dirty, and he likes it;

- since he cums really quickly and he is very horny all the times, i can see him being into overstimulation. he will beg you to keep circling the palm of your hand on his cockhead until he almost squirms away, and then he will cum for a second time in a few seconds;

- he has a filthy mouth, and he won't shut up under any circumstance. your neighbors probably hate you;

- he likes to be as submissive and yours as possible. he loves being your little toy to play with, and he will often ask you to finger his mouth as if it was his pussy, and to tie him so he cannot move to much and be completely under your control;

- he prefers when you ride him. he loves seeing you ravishing him and milk him dry, but especially because he just can't get enough of your boobs. when you stay on top he can bury his face on them and suckle at your nipples until your chest is all covered in drool;

- kind of obvious but he has a mommy kink/noona kink, and calling you that while you are fucking him makes his brain feel floaty and fuzzed. "Please noona, oh f-fuck, please - ah nnghh - p-please mama, mommy, let me cum, mama - uhh".

- he is into anal play, but for him. hannie will ask you to finger him, fuck him with your strap, rim him and put a plug in his cute wiggly butt at least once a week. he feels like your princess like that, he cannot help it.

➛ Felix

- here we have him, angel boy lixie. the softest, the sweetest, the embodiment of love. just a look at him and you would give him the entire universe;

- just as binnie, i think that also felix would be into cross dressing. he buys all the pink lacey underwear that he can find on the internet, and he pairs them with pleated skirts and high stokings;

- he will also add a few cute ribbons on his hair, and maybe a little bit of make up too. a rosey eyeshadow, shiny highlighter and glossy lipstick, better if sticky. he will let you fuck him without taking anything off, just pull the panties apart and slide his puffy cockhead on your folds until he cums prettily all over himself;

- he loves you so much he almost worships you. whenerver he is intimate with you, you will always find him looking at you fondly, tears almost prickling his eyes. he cannot help it, he just feels so much when you are together that he cannot believe how lucky he is;

- lixie has particular kinks, but he loves every single inch of you, and he will make sure to let you know. i have the feeling he would love feet stuff a little bit more than he wants to admit. especially when you are chilling on the sofa together, and your sole presses too close to his groin. he always feels a little aroused and filthy for the fact he enjoys this kind of stimulation;

- another mommy kink enthusiast here. he loves being cuddled and pampered by you. the nickname falls naturally out of his lips whenever you give him pleasure, and he sounds so innocent while doing it that it becomes an habit also out of the bedroom;

- lixie loves your breasts. he massage them to fall asleep and he suck on them as a comfort whenever he feels a little bit overwhelmed or fuzzy into his headspace. he like to be babied like that, to be lulled in your arms while he suckles softly on your nipples with pouted lips;

- and this led to his lactation kink. he is not ashamed of asking you to pretend to brestfeed him whenever he is stressed out. "b-baby please, gimme your milk, it was an awful day, p-please";

- he will need a lot of physical touch, such as holding hands, hugging and kissing. He loves every position in which he can be as close to you as he can;

- he wants and gives baby talk all the time. every cute nickname is okay for him, but his favorite are love, angel, sweetheart and sugar;

- definively into food play. he will take every chance to play with you while cooking and baking, sweet hiccups while you twirl your tongue on the head of his honey-dripping cock and lap at his sweet balls underneath;

- talks in 3rd person while in subspace. "uh- mommy, a-angel.. lix -uggghn- l-lixie is cumming, oh god, lixie is c-cumming".

➛ Seungmin

- i am a strong believer that seungmin is the hardest sub of all the boys. whenever he is in the bedroom his personality will shift drastically until he becomes a brainless needy thing;

- minnie is always so stoic and composed in real life that he just needs to let go. sex for him is the only way he can empty his head and give you the absolute control of his body;

- that's why he immediately falls into his subspace as soon as you get intimate with each other. he cannot conceive any other way of loving you than to give you complete power over him;

- i can see him being into light humiliation and dumbification. minnie needs to be useful for you and he will do anything to fulfill your desires. he gets off on the feeling of being your toy and your sexual object, and the embarassment he feels whenever you call him your dumb thing makes his head spin;

- for this exact reason, he is into pet play as well. he loves to be reduced as a silly puppy who needs to earn his treats. whenever you make him kneel in front of you to take food directly from your hands, his cock is always red and leaky against his lap. you often let him hump your calf and stop him just before he cums just to see him crying and pleading for you;

- after a few months, he will probably ask you to explore choking on him. you establish a few rules and safe words before you try that, and the way he just mewls while you lightly restrain his breath will convince you to do it more often;

- minnie needs to be owned. he will ask you to give him a tiny collar with your name on it, and he will wear it everywhere, even at work, hidden under his clothes;

- he always follows your orders diligently, but he enjoys his punishments a little bit too much as well. he pretends not to, because he wants to be your good pup, but he cannot hide the way his wet cock almost drools with precum every time your hand slap the soft fat of his butt, or the back of his balls;

- being so utterly in love with you, he will quickly develop a breeding kink. he cannot hold himself whenever he hears your voice tempting him, and he will cum the hardest if you combine it with a little degradation. "is my little pup ready to breed? mmh... i'm not sure. dumb pup is so weak to fill me up with his cum, isn't he? but you can try, puppy, you can try stuffing me full of your babies."

- and, of course, he is the weakest for cum play. especially if you let him lap his own release out of your folds after he emptied his load inside of you;

- another non verbal baby. as soon as you start pleasuring him, he will not be able to form a single sentence anymore. just sighs, sobs, soft moans and mewls;

➛ I.N

- here we go, another sub enthusiast here!! sweet, lovely innie is so happy of being with you that just cannot wait to try everything that he can;

- i can see him being a virgin before meeting you. not because he didn't have the opportunity of experiencing sex with anyone, but because he wanted to wait for his true love and be as confortable as possible;

- that's why he quickly develops a reversed corruption kink. innie wants - no, he needs - you to ruin him for good. he wants to feel little and inexperienced under your gaze. he wants to know that you are there for him, to teach him and guide him until he knows how to pleasure and be pleasured;

- after the first stages, he becomes unsatiable. he will ask for you to fuck him multiple times a day. poor baby will make up for all the time he lost!;

- he wants to try as many sex toys as he can. he will probably buy a bunch randomly without even know how to use them, and then place them neatly on your bed while waiting for you to show him the way they work;

- he gets pussydrunk pretty fast. he loves eating you out and fingering you the most. as soon as he is confident enough, he will ask you to sit on his face and ride his tongue until you cum on him;

- the prettiest soft grunts while you ride him or you manhandle him, "uh, nnnngh, ff-fuck, ahhh, oh g-god";

- thigh guy for sure. he goes crazy every time he sees you in a short skirt or in a tight pair of jeans. he will look at your legs so much he will almost go crossed-eye and will mentally pray for you to suffocate him with them as soon as you come back home;

- he loves to watch you masturbating. he will sit obediently at the foot of your bed, enraptured by the schlick sound of your fingers pushing in and out of your wet pussy, baby boy almost salivating at the sight;

- call him a simple guy, but he cums the hardest with sloppy blowjobs. he knows he has to stay still, but he usually cannot handle it till you give him permission and will end up thrusting in your mouth just a couple of times before you smack his ass and bring him back to his place;

- another noona lover here. he just loves the feeling of your experienced hands guiding him into pure bliss and to be called your pretty little boy;

- "noona, what was that? oh-ohhh g-god that feels amazing, p-please do it again."

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[valentine-cafe]

May I have a tiramisu please?

Bottom male reader perhaps meeting Alessio at a club or party and being smitten with him and decides to have a one night stand with him

Also is it ok if I am 🖍️anon? (Pronounced like craynon)

˖⁺. “ pretty party boy ! ” : 

��� top punkgoth mercenary x bttm male reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

 . . . verse 781 alessio x male reader !! 🍒 : ﹙ punkgoth ˖ mercenary ˖ immortal inhuman  ﹚ 

you found the flirtatious hunk at the club rather cute - and it seems like the both of you can't keep your hands off of each other. might as well head over and get into his pants, right?

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ one night stand ˖ penetrative sex ˖ fingering ˖ size difference ˖ degradation ˖ rough sex ˖ spit ˖ creampie ˖ alcohol consumption ˖ club scenes | wc : 1.6k

﹙ receipts ﹚: oh I had wayyy too much fun with this and yes ! welcome 🖍️<3

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Parties seemed to be his scene. Even moreso when he's got a pretty lil' thing like you grinding up on him on the dance floor. He barely knew your name but he sure as hell knew the taste of your lips. Fuck. You were fun to kiss.

He found that out especially so when you stumbled with him through the hazes of booze and bright lights. His hands were all over you from the crowd to the bar. He bought you a drink, then two. Let you pipe on about how you're so happy you can unwind after exam week. He finds out you're a student at his uni. Well ain't that convenient?

"Mechanical huh?"

"Yup! First year."

"Well if you need a tutor," his lips smile into the rim of his glass. Glossy emerald eyes flicker over in time for you giggle. Your hand shoves at his arm. Electric. Your touch, your eyes. Everything about you.

So eager too. You just slipped off of his lap after another steamy makeout. Did you even remember his name? "You offerrin' me something, 'essio?" Seems you do. He quite likes it on your tongue.

His hand falls back to your thigh, just as greedy. A calloused thumb strokes along the fabric of your pants. If he could he'd dig in here and now. You'd love the feel of his silver rings clamped round your thighs as he split your pretty little hole open. "Maybe I am. It working?"

What a charmer. His words couple with a grin and a wink. Dangerous. That's the only way to describe. But like most forbidden things, the man donned in silver and black drips with allure.

You are no saint. Indulge, why don't you?

What else were you to do? Pass up on a guy who's so evidently packing something in his ripped black jeans? No way in hell. You snatched him up the second you could. A second make-out, then a third. All the way back to your apartment.

The door shut and the next second he shows you his strength. Wraps large hands round your thighs and hoists you up. Shoves you back into the wall just as his tongue does your mouth. Chills wash over you as a silver piercing graces your pink muscle so graciously. How friendly.

Alessio's far from a patient man. He'll tongue kiss you breathless all while stripping haphazardly at your clothes. Chuckle when you whine and buck at the hand that had just been pre-occupying itself with your pleasure. Another cute thing — your dick in his palm. Especially how it squirts and twitches all over.

"Pobrecito," his tongue clicks beside your ear. His hand returns to your hard cock and squeezes at the head once - twice - as he drops you down into your sheets. Handling you and your furniture as if he owned the damn place. "Too greedy for a man you just met? Or are ya just that pent up?"

The jerky motion of his palm is cruel. You hiccup and he makes sure to kiss on your adam's apple while you grind into the calloused feel. "Please," you quiver. "Please - please please."

Warmth withdraws, you nearly whine and reach for his hair to cling. "Oh baby I haven't even stretched you out yet." Spit streaks your hole, he's got good aim. You can't really appreciate it as his words run rampant through your mind.

Stretch you out? "I can take it - jus' need some lube. I'm not a virgin." So proudly you say it and yet - the shadow of emerald peering down at you renders you nearly timid. He chuckles, deep and dark as his thumb flicks across your tip.

"Aww that's cute."

His free hand circles fingers at your rim. The centre of his brows crease and knit upwards as he croons while you throb around his slowly inching fingers. "That so? Please." Another snicker. Cocky bastard. But maybe he's right, with the way two fingers stuff you up you're suddenly reconsidering what he might be hiding down there.

He'll stretch you out on his fingers more than once. It's slow for the first round. You wonder if that's what he prefers — but the second has you jerking, crying as he fucks his fingers in till the knuckle. So effortless too. Like he's done this multiple times before.

Seems like it. The way he croons and cooes at you tells you he's said these words before. The way he so expertly know where to curl his criminally long and thick fingers only motivates the fact. He'd get you off twice like that. Lean down and kiss your sticky tip so messily before he finally backs off.

What the fuck. Oh that's more than you could have ever imagined. His fat cockhead slaps back into him. Tall and proud with throbs at his tip to match. And that vein that pulses on the underside? You lick your lips to restrain the urge to swoop down and suckle on it. Not that he'd give you a chance with the snatch to your thighs that yanks you to the end of the bed, his cock rests atop your thigh. Fuck — it's heavy too.

He asks if you're ready. What a gentleman. As if he wasn't making you cream on his fingers just a second ago. Caresses your sides and positions. He even made sure to jerk you off a bit while he pushed in. Maybe he's addicted to your pleasure.

Pop! The tip alone has you straining. You squeeze out lube he drizzled all over combined with his saliva. What's Alessio doing? Grinning. As he splits you open on his cock and grips your waist when you try to squirm. Yanks you back down on his dick so that your ass is spread wide as he jams between your legs.

"This the same cock you said you could take hermoso?"

Skin slaps wet and rapid. Plap plap plap! His balls smack against your ass. Strong hands yank you down on every plough of his cock. You're drooling. Loopy. Head limped into the sheets and hands barely gripping anymore.

A mess of your cum stains your thighs and splatters your tummy. Runs down your poor abused ass to mix with Alessio's seed. He's pumped you full who-knows how many times.

And he's still going.

Your dick squirts more when he grabs it with his free hand that's not got your thigh hunched over his muscled shoulder in a tight slot. "Answer me pretty boy." Even his hiss drips with sex appeal.

You try to nod. Try to speak. How can you when he starts bullying a gummy spot so deep inside. Knocking so roughly. Sloshing up your heat with sprays of more cum. How isn't he stopping?

"C-Can - can take it - can take - hngh - 'e-essiiioooooo I can't takkeee iiitttt."

With a shaky hand you pathetically clamp on his bicep. You want him close. And he's so gracious for a man you just met. He drops his weight and squishes you in half. Pours kisses down your neck as he slams all the way. Throbs a few times. Then shallowly fucks you through another orgasm.

You search for his lips. Messy. Just like the kiss he wretches your jaw into. Oh how he suffocates you. How he pumps you full and has your smaller body creaming all over him.

"Tha's what I thought. Yeah. Fucking whore thought he could take me first try huh?" He keeps a grip tight around your jaw when he parts from your lips. Saliva is the only connecting. Strings of slick just like down below where your tight ass spurts messes of cum again and again.

"Right baby? You can take it. Not a virgin after all - fuckk - so take it!"

Another slam. Your body jerks on the bed. You tear nails down his back and sniffle out a sob as you spray his toned abdomen again. The knot in your tummy is tight. Legs tremble on his shoulders. "Please - pleasepleasee-ease-easseeee"

How pathetic. All Alessio can do is chuckle along the crook of your neck as he paints hickies in return of your cum that decorates him.

He thought you were cute at the party alone. But you're fucking adorable when you struggle to take his cock.

  Despite the roughness he'll pepper soft kisses all over your face once it's over. Hoist you up into his big arms and carry you to the bathroom. How the hell isn't he spent? You can barely see straight!

You'd be in and out of consciousness but he'll make sure to clean you up. Get you nice and comfortable in your bed before slotting in beside you.

You're surprised to see he's still there in the morning. In your kitchen - making you food? "An apology for wrecking your ass." He jokes. You could get used to this. . . but it's just a one night stand, right? You're reminded of that once he's out the door.

Well. Until later that night when your phone pings. When did you give him your number??

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[octaneink]

Accelerando

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Previous part: Crescendo Summary : Will met his new neighbour, he may not have made the best first impression but things work out in his favour. Right? Warnings : LONG AS FUCK this is like 6k (also tried to write them "texting" but I'm not sure if I hit the mark) Notes : Like I said on one of my blog updates, I think I made Will a bit of a simp but I like it...Not sure if I should continue these in their perspective? Do people like that?

Will didn’t even wait to sit down. As soon as he walked into the office, he dropped his tote bag onto his desk with a thud. The room was bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the blinds, casting long streaks across the cluttered desks and chairs. The faint hum of computers and the occasional clatter of key filled the air, but Will’s entrance brought a momentary pause to the usual rhythm.

“You lot will never guess what just happened to me,” he announced, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Mikey looked up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow. “What? Did you run out of Prime or something?”

“No, you prick,” Will shot back, though there was no real heat in his tone. He grabbed a chair from an empty desk, spinning it around with a practised flick of his wrist before sitting down, his arms resting on the back. His hair was slightly dishevelled, he’d been running his hands through it all morning, and his cheeks were flushed from the brisk walk to the office.

“Remember that neighbour I told you about? The one with the loud music every morning?” he continued.

James twisted in his seat, he was mid-sip of his coffee, the ice clacking from the plastic cup in his hand. “The one you’ve been talking about for weeks? Yeah, what about them?”

“Turns out, it’s a girl. And I just met her this morning.” Will said.

James snorted, nearly spilling his coffee as he twisted back around to face his desk. “A girl?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t know you were lonely enough to see this as important news.”

Will rolled his eyes, his lips twitching into a half-smile despite himself. “I’m not lonely, you knob. It’s just… it’s mad, innit? I’ve been talking about this person for weeks, and it turns out she’s my next-door neighbour. And she’s… well, she’s fit.”

James choked on his coffee, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup as he set it down with a loud thunk. “Fit? Mate, you’ve only just met her!”

“So? I’m allowed to find someone attractive!” Will exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. His voice echoed slightly in the small office, drawing a few curious glances from the others. The tips of his ears turned pink, but he pressed on. 

“She introduced herself, said she was my neighbour, and then—get this—she then got into the bloody yellow Miata.”

Mikey burst out laughing, the sound sharp and sudden in the otherwise quiet room. He leaned back in his chair, nearly tipping it over as he clutched his stomach. “No way. You’ve been slagging off your new fit neighbour this whole time?”

“I didn’t slag her off,” Will protested. “She acted like she had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned the music. Proper cheeky, she is.”

James shook his head, grinning. “Mate, you’re in trouble. She’s already got you wound up, and you’ve only just met her.”

“I’m not wound up,” Will insisted, though the way he was gesturing wildly with his hands suggested otherwise. His voice rose slightly, carrying a note of defensiveness that only made the others laugh harder. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

Mikey smirked. “Sure you are. What’s her name, then?”

Will's gaze flickering to the ceiling as if trying to recall. Then he said her name, it rolled off his tongue as he’d been practising it on the way to the office. “Aside from that, she seems really nice.”

One of the guys in the corner poorly coughed out a ‘to look at’, earning a round of snickers from the others. Will ignored them, the only sign of acknowledgement he let them see was an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“And I don’t know… I’m just curious, I guess,” he admitted, his voice softening slightly.

James leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Curious, huh? Sounds like you’re already planning your next move. What’re you going to do? Knock on her door and ask her out for a cuppa?”

Will hesitated, his confidence wavering. “I mean… maybe? I don’t know. It’d be nice to actually talk to her properly, you know? Without the whole ‘I’ve been moaning about your music for weeks’ thing hanging over us.”

Mikey snorted. “Good luck with that, mate. She’s probably already got you pegged as the grumpy bloke next door.”

“Cheers for the vote of confidence,” Will muttered, slumping in his chair. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, before shaking his head and getting to work.

The next few days were… quiet. Too quiet. Will didn’t realise how much he’d come to expect the thumping bass of reggaetón in the morning and evenings until it was gone. The next morning after their meeting, he woke up at his usual time, the faint glow of dawn creeping through the gaps in his curtains. He stretched, the sheets rustling as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet hitting the cool wooden floor. 

He padded into the kitchen, the faint hum of the fridge the only noise breaking the stillness. The kettle clicked on, its familiar bubbling filling the room as he reached for his favourite mug. He leaned against the counter, staring out the window at the quiet street below. The yellow Miata sat in its usual spot, untouched, its vibrant colour muted in the early morning light.

Will carried his tea to the window, the steam curling up into the cool air as he pulled back the curtain slightly. He sat on the sill, and sipped his drink. The silence felt heavy, almost oppressive, as if the city itself was holding its breath. He glanced at the Miata again, half-expecting to see her climb in and drive off, the music blaring as she peeled away from the curb. But the car remained still, the street silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

By the third day, the quiet had become unnerving. Will found himself glancing out the window more often, his routine disrupted by the absence of the familiar beat. He’d catch himself pausing at odd times throughout the times he was home, his ears straining for the faintest hint of bass. But there was nothing. Just silence.

It wasn’t just the music, though. It was the absence of her. The brief encounter in the hallway had left an impression, one he hadn’t realised until now. Her smile, the way she’d teased him about the music, the effortless confidence she carried—it all lingered in his mind.

On the fourth morning, Will woke up earlier than usual, his body seemingly attuned to the rhythm of her routine even in her absence. He made his tea and sat by the window again, the steam from his mug fogging up the glass. He wiped it away with his sleeve, his gaze fixed on the Miata.

“Where are you?” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

The street below was still, the occasional passer by bundled up against the morning chill. A delivery van rumbled past, its engine breaking the silence for a moment before fading into the distance. Will sighed, leaning his forehead against the cool glass. He hadn’t realised how much he’d come to rely on that small, daily interruption—the burst of energy that signalled the start of her day, and in turn, his own.

Without it, the mornings felt… incomplete.

A week later, Will was coming home from a late editing session, the streets of London bathed in the soft glow of street lights. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from an earlier shower, and the occasional drip-drip of water falling from rooftops echoed in the quiet alleyway. His shoulders and lower back ached from hours hunched over his laptop, and his mind was still buzzing with unfinished ideas.

As he approached his door, he noticed a figure standing at the entrance to her flat. It wasn’t her—it was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a key in one hand and a reusable shopping bag in the other. Will slowed his steps, his curiosity piqued. The man glanced up, catching Will’s eye, and gave a polite nod before turning back to the door.

Will hesitated, his hand tightening around the strap of his tote bag. He wasn’t usually one to pry, but the absence of her music (and her) had left a lingering unease he couldn’t quite shake. Taking a deep breath, he decided to approach.

“Hey, mate,” Will called out, his voice cutting through the quiet night. He tried to sound casual, but there was a slight edge to his tone, a hint of the curiosity he’d been carrying for days.

The man turned, his expression friendly but slightly guarded. “Alright?”

“I’m Will,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward his own flat. “I live next door. Just wondering… is everything okay with” he said your name “? Haven’t seen her around.”

The man’s face relaxed into a smile, and he shifted the bag to his other hand. “Oh, she’s fine! She’s just away for a couple of weeks. Something for work, I think. I’m her friend, Austin—just popping in to water her plants, check on the place, and drop off something I borrowed.”

Will nodded, feeling a mix of relief and something else he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just curiosity any more, it was a strange, almost nagging sense of disappointment? He wasn’t sure.

“Right, of course,” Will said, shoving his free hand into his pocket. “Thanks for letting me know. I was just… you know, making sure everything was alright.”

The man chuckled, a warm, easy sound. “Yeah, she mentioned you.”

Will’s cheeks flushed, and he let out an awkward laugh. “Ah, really? Didn’t realise she’d noticed.”

“Oh, she noticed,” the man said, his grin widening. 

Will groaned, running a hand through his hair. What had she been telling people? He hoped it wasn’t about their disastrous first meeting. “Great.”

The man laughed again, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’d better get these plants sorted before she comes back and murders me for neglecting them.”

“Right, yeah. Don’t let me keep you,” Will said, stepping back. “Thanks again, mate.”

“No problem,” the man replied, turning back to the door. “See you around.”

Will watched as the man disappeared inside, the door clicking shut behind him. He stood there for a moment, before finally heading to his own flat.

As he unlocked his door and stepped inside, the quiet of the empty space hit him again. He dropped his tote bag by the door and leaned against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

“Something for work, huh?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.

Will sighed, pushing himself off the wall and heading to the kitchen. He needed some food. And maybe a distraction.

The next day, Will was in the office, they had just finished filming a video and are currently taking a break before filming another. The room was a chaotic mix of half-empty energy drink cans, scattered cables, and things they used in the videos. James was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone, while Mikey and Ieuan were huddled over a laptop, debating the best thumbnail for their latest video.

Will leaned against the arm of the couch, his arms crossed, as he stared at the ceiling. The silence in the room felt heavy, and he couldn’t help but fill it.

“So, my neighbour’s gone,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

James looked up from his phone, one eyebrow raised. “The fit one?”

“Yeah,” Will replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Turns out she’s away for a couple of weeks. Her friend’s looking after her flat.”

Mikey glanced up from the laptop, a smirk already forming on his face. “Mate, you’re obsessed. You sure you’re not just lonely?”

Will rolled his eyes, though the tips of his ears turned pink. “I’m not obsessed. It’s just weird, alright? You get used to something, and then it’s gone.”

Ieuan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

Will groaned, grabbing a pen from the coffee table and chucking it in Ieuan’s direction. “Shut up, man.”

James laughed, the sound sharp and sudden in the otherwise quiet room. “He’s got a point, though. You’ve been going on about her for weeks. First it was the music, now it’s her being gone. Face it, mate—you’re smitten.”

“I’m not smitten,” Will protested, though the way he avoided eye contact suggested otherwise. “It’s just… I dunno. It’s like when you’re watching a series, and your favourite character just disappears for a few episodes. You notice it, don’t you?”

Mikey snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, but this isn’t a series, is it? This is your life. And she’s not a character—she’s your neighbour. Who you’ve apparently been stalking.”

“I’m not stalking her!” Will exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I’m just… noticing things. That’s all.”

James smirked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Noticing things, huh? Like what? The way she smiles? The way she smells? The way she—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Will interrupted, his face flushing as he grabbed a cushion from the couch and chucked it at James.

The room erupted into laughter, the sound echoing off the walls. Will sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to suppress a smile.

“You lot are impossible,” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his tone.

Ieuan grinned, leaning back in his chair again. “Face it, Will. You’re down bad. Just admit it.”

Will shook his head, though he couldn’t help but laugh along with them. “Whatever, man. Just wait till she comes back and starts blasting that music again. Then you’ll all be complaining too.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Doubt it. But hey, if it means we get to hear more about your ‘not-a-crush,’ I’m all for it.”

Will groaned, grabbing another cushion and burying his face in it. “I hate you lot.”

The laughter continued, filling the room with a warmth that even Will couldn’t resist. But as the banter died down and the others returned to their work, he found himself staring out the window, his thoughts drifting back to her.

Where are you? He wondered, though he’d never admit it out loud.

Will was halfway out the door, his headphones already in and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up against the morning chill, when he nearly collided with her.

“Oh, sorry!” she said, stepping back with a laugh.

The sound of her voice cut through the muffled beat of his music, and Will fumbled to pull it off around his neck, his heart skipping a beat. She was standing there, a reusable shopping bag in one hand, and her cheeks flushed from the cold.

“No, my bad,” Will said quickly, his voice slightly breathless—though not from the near-collision. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made his stomach do a weird little flip. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, just for a run,” Will replied, gesturing vaguely toward the street. He suddenly felt hyper-aware of how he must look—stained sweatshirt, hair probably a mess, and his running shoes scuffed from weeks of use.

“You?” he asked, trying to sound casual, though his mind was already racing. He hadn’t expected to see her so soon, and now that she was standing there, he found himself scrambling for something to say.

“Just got back,” she said, holding up the bag. “had no fresh food, plus I needed to stock up on a few things. You know how it is.”

Will nodded, though he wasn’t really listening. His brain was too busy cataloguing the details—the way her hair looked, catching the faint morning light; the subtle scent of coconut, warm and sweet, that seemed to linger in the air around her; the way her smile reached her eyes, crinkling at the corners like she was in on some private joke. It was everything—every little thing—that made her, her. And for a moment, he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Well, I’ll let you get to it,” she said, breaking the silence. “Don’t want to keep you from your run.”

“Right, yeah,” Will said, stepping aside to let her pass. His movements felt awkward, like he was suddenly too aware of his own body. “See you around.”

“See you,” she replied, her voice carrying a hint of amusement as she unlocked her door and disappeared inside.

Will stood there for a moment, his earbud still hanging from his neck, the faint sound of music leaking out. He blinked, as if waking up from a dream, and shook his head.

Get it together, mate, he thought, shoving the headphones cushion back in and adjusting his sweatshirt. But as he headed out into the crisp morning air, he couldn’t shake the strange, buzzing energy that had settled in his chest.

The run was supposed to clear his head, but it didn’t. If anything, it made things worse. Every step seemed to echo with the sound of her laugh, and the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement only reminded him of the beat of her music.

Why am I like this? he wondered, pushing himself to run faster. It’s not like she’s done anything. She’s just… there.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? She was there. And now that he’d actually talked to her—properly talked to her—he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

By the time he got back to the flat, his hoodie was damp with sweat, and his legs were aching. He paused outside her door, just for a second, before shaking his head and heading inside.

You’re being weird, he told himself as he grabbed a glass of water, though he couldn’t ignore the way his heart had skipped a beat when he recalled how she smiled.

The next time they accidentally ran into each other was at Tesco. Will was standing in the ready meal aisle, staring at the rows of plastic trays like they held the answers to life’s greatest mysteries. He’d had a long day, and the thought of cooking anything more complicated than shoving something in the microwave was enough to make him want to lie down on the floor right there.

He was torn between a chicken tikka masala and a beef lasagna, holding one in each hand like scales that refused to balance. The tikka masala looked decent, but the lasagna had that gooey cheese pull in the picture that was hard to ignore. He sighed.

“Tough decision?”

The voice came from behind him, and Will froze. He knew that voice. He’d been hearing it in his head for days now, replaying their brief hallway encounter like some kind of embarrassing highlight reel. Slowly, he turned around, clutching the ready meals like they were a shield.

She was standing there, a basket hooked over her arm and a teasing smile on her face. Her hair was effortlessly neat, and she was wearing an oversized hoodie that somehow made her look soft. Will felt suddenly aware of how he must look—hoodie, joggers, and a faint smear of ketchup on his chest.

“Uh, yeah,” Will said, holding up the two meals like he was presenting evidence in court. “Can’t decide if I want spicy or cheesy.”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider the options with the seriousness of a judge deliberating a life sentence. “Why not go for something spicy?”

Will laughed, the sound surprising even himself.“You know what? You’re right. Both it is.”

She grinned. “Glad I could help.”

Will tossed the chicken tikka into his basket, and the other back into the correct place, feeling oddly pleased with himself. He hadn’t expected to see her here, and now that she was standing in front of him, he found himself scrambling for something to say that didn’t make him sound like a complete idiot.

“So, uh, what brings you to Tesco at…” He glanced at his phone. “8 p.m. on a Tuesday?”

She shrugged, shifting the basket on her arm. “Same as you, probably. Too tired to cook, too hungry to care.”

Will nodded, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Been filming all day. My brain’s fried.”

“Filming?” she asked, her interest piqued. “What kind of stuff do you film?”

“Oh, uh, videos,” Will said, suddenly self-conscious. “For my channel. I make, videos and vlogs and stuff.”

Her eyes lit up. “Wait, seriously? That’s cool!”

Will felt a flush of pride, though he tried to play it cool. “Yeah, they’re fun to make. Bit chaotic sometimes, but that’s half the point, I guess.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, their conversation easy and light. She told him about a new café that had opened nearby, and he recommended his favourite takeaway spot. By the time they parted ways, Will found himself smiling like an idiot. As he walked to the self-checkout, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, watching as she disappeared down another aisle. 

The third time was the most unexpected. Will was in the middle of filming a video with Mikey and Ieuan, the three of them weaving through the bustling streets of central London in search of the most hyped food spots. The challenge was simple: try the viral dishes, rate them, and see if they lived up to the hype.

The streets were alive with the usual chaos—tourists snapping photos, double-decker buses rumbling past, and the occasional shout of recognition from fans. Will was holding a massive rainbow-coloured milkshake in one hand and a microphone in the other, trying to explain why this particular dessert had over a million likes on social media.

“I mean, it looks cool,” he said, gesturing to the towering drink, “but does it taste good? That’s the real question.”

Mikey leaned in, taking an exaggerated sip. “It’s basically just sugar. I feel like my teeth are going to fall out.” he made a disgusted face “But yeah, I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s not about the taste—it’s about the aesthetic.”

Will laughed, shaking his head. “Aesthetic or not, I’m not sure my dentist would approve.”

They were about to continue when Will spotted her in the crowd.

She was standing near the edge of the pavement, her arms crossed as she watched with an amused smile. Even from a distance, she stood out, her presence somehow cutting through the noise and commotion around her. Will faltered for a moment, his train of thought derailing completely.

“Will? Mate, you good?” Mikey asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

Will blinked, tearing his gaze away from her. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Got distracted.”

Ieuan followed his line of sight, a smirk spreading across his face. “Distracted, huh? Is that your neighbour?”

Will’s cheeks flushed, and he quickly turned back to the camera. “No idea what you’re talking about. Let’s just keep going.”

But Mikey wasn’t about to let it go. “Oh, it’s definitely her. Will’s gone all red. Look at him!”

Will groaned, shoving Mikey lightly. “Shut up, man. We’re filming.”

Ieuan leaned into frame. “Ladies and gentlemen, Will’s mysterious neighbour has made an appearance. Let’s see if he can keep it together long enough to finish the video.”

Will shot them both a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re both the worst, you know that?”

Will did his best to focus, but his gaze kept drifting back to her. By the time they wrapped up at that restaurant, his heart was hammering in his chest and he felt the sickly sweet drink settle horribly in his stomach. But none of that mattered as he made his way over to her.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, grinning as he approached.

She looked him up and down, her smile widening. “Just passing through. Didn’t expect to see you.”

Will laughed, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to make himself look slightly less dishevelled. “Yeah, well, we film outside sometimes. You sticking around?”

She shook her head, holding up a brightly wrapped gift he didn't see from the restaurant. “Nah, I’ve got plans. But maybe next time.”

There was a teasing lilt to her voice, and Will felt a flicker of something—hope, maybe, or anticipation. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he didn’t want the conversation to end just yet.

“Plans, huh?” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Anything exciting?”

She shrugged, her smile turning playful. “One of my friend's kids has a birthday party. Nothing as exciting as whatever it is you’re doing.”

Will glanced back at Mikey and Ieuan, who were busy packing up equipment and debating where to go next. “Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it looks. Mostly just running around like idiots and hoping we don’t get arrested.”

She laughed, “Well, you’re doing a great job,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for the video.”

“You should,” Will replied, his grin widening. “I’ll make sure to give you a shoutout.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “Oh, really? And what would you say?”

Will hesitated, his mind racing for a witty response, but all he could come up with was, “I’ll think of something.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “Nah, you don’t have to do that.” She paused, then added, “But if you really want to make it up to me, you could give me your number.”

Will’s heart skipped a beat, but he tried to play it cool. “Yeah? And what if I don’t want to share my number?”

She smirked, tilting her head. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep running into you by accident. Seems like it’s working so far.”

Will laughed, pulling out his phone. “Alright, you’ve got me. What’s your number?”

She rattled it off, and Will quickly typed it into his contacts. He sent her a quick text—just his name and a smiley face—so she’d have his number too.

“There,” he said, holding up his phone. “Now, you can’t say I didn’t make an effort.”

She grinned, pulling out her own phone to save his number. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As she turned to leave, Will felt a pang of disappointment. He watched her walk away, her figure disappearing into the crowd, before turning back to Mikey and Ieuan. The two of them were grinning like idiots, clearly waiting for him to say something.

“So,” Mikey said, slinging an arm around Will’s shoulders. “Your neighbour, huh?”

Will groaned, shoving him off. “Don’t start.”

Ieuan smirked, holding up his phone. “Too late. I already got a photo of you two. This is going straight on Twitter.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Will said, though he knew what Ieuan said was an empty threat.

Mikey laughed, clapping him on the back. “Face it, mate. You’re down bad.”

Will rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Will found himself checking his phone more often than usual, his heart skipping a beat every time a notification popped up. Their messages had started off casual—just a few texts here and there—but quickly evolved into something more. It was the kind of back-and-forth that made him smile like an idiot, even when he was in the middle of work.

Her: So, what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you on camera?

Will: Oh god, don’t make me relive it.

Her: Come on, I told you about the time I tripped and ate shit in front of my entire uni class. Fair’s fair.

Will: Fine. There was this one time we were filming a challenge video, and I accidentally set off a fire alarm. In a library. It was mortifying.

Her: No way. Please tell me there’s footage.

Will: Oh, there is. But I’m taking that one to my grave.

Her: I’ll find it. I have my ways.

Will: You’re terrifying.

Her: You love it.

Will stared at his phone, his cheeks heating up at her last message. He didn’t even notice James leaning over his shoulder until it was too late.

“Mate, you’re grinning at your phone like a lunatic,” James said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Who is it?”

Will quickly locked his screen, shoving his phone into his pocket. “No one.”

James raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right. And I’m the Queen of England. Come on, spill. Is it the neighbour?”

Will groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe. So what?”

James smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You’re gone, mate. It’s written all over your face.”

“Shut up,” Will muttered, though he couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s just texting. No big deal.”

“Sure it isn’t,” James said, his shit eating grin widening.

Will chucked a cushion at him, but he was smiling. As much as he hated to admit it, James was right. He was gone. And he didn’t mind one bit.

The messages continued, each one pulling him further into her orbit. They talked about everything—her favourite books, any film recommendations he had, the time she accidentally locked herself out of her flat in her pyjamas. It was easy, effortless, and Will found himself looking forward to every notification.

Then, one evening, during a late filming session he was sprawled on the sofa at the office, his phone buzzed.

Her: So, I was thinking…

Will: Dangerous.

Her: Ha. Very funny. But seriously, I was thinking… we should hang out. Properly. 

Will’s heart skipped a beat. He typed out a reply, deleted it, and then typed it again.

Will: Yeah, I’d like that. What did you have in mind?

Her: There’s this little park near the flat. It’s quiet, nice for a walk. I’ll meet you there and we could grab coffee and just… chill.

Will: Sounds perfect. When?

Her: Tomorrow? Say, 3?

Will: I’ll be there.

Will put his phone down, trying to act casual, but his heart was racing. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, a grin spreading across his face before he could stop it. He quickly schooled his expression, glancing around the room to make sure no one had noticed. James was sprawled on the other end of the couch, scrolling through his phone, while Mikey and Ieuan were arguing over something in the kitchen. For once, they were too absorbed in their own chaos to pay him any attention.

Good. He didn’t need the teasing right now.

Will picked up his phone again, unlocking it just to reread the messages. We should hang out. Properly. His stomach did a weird little flip, and he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. He wasn’t sure what “properly” meant, but he wasn’t about to overthink it. Not yet, anyway.

He opened his camera roll, scrolling through a few recent photos to make sure he didn’t look like a complete mess. His hair was… fine. He could work with this. Maybe he’d shave in the morning. Just to be safe.

“What’s got you so twitchy?” James asked suddenly, not looking up from his phone.

Will froze, his thumb hovering over the screen. “What? Nothing. I’m not twitchy.”

James glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve been staring at your phone like it’s about to explode. Spill.”

Will sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “It’s nothing. Just… plans tomorrow.”

James smirked, clearly not buying it. “Plans, huh? With who?”

“No one,” Will said quickly, though the way his voice cracked gave him away.

James sat up, his grin widening. “Alright, keep your secrets. Though we know who it is already. Enjoy your plans.”

Will chucked a cushion at him, but he was smiling.

The next day dragged on endlessly. Will tried to focus on work, but his mind kept wandering. He found himself glancing at the clock every five minutes, counting down the hours until 3. By the time the afternoon rolled around, he was a bundle of nerves, pacing around the flat and second-guessing everything.

“What am I even wearing?” Will asked himself, as he rifled through his wardrobe. He held up a hoodie and then tossed it aside. “Something casual but not too casual, maybe?”

Will hummed to himself, “What about this?” pulling out a clean jumper and holding it up to the mirror over his body. Nodding, he put it on.

By the time 2:30 rolled around, Will was ready to crawl out of his skin. He grabbed his jacket, checked his hair in the mirror one last time, and headed out the door before he could talk himself out of what he was wearing. Again.

The park was only a short walk away, but it felt like an eternity. Will’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his breath visible in the cool air. He spotted her almost immediately, sitting on a bench under a tree. She looked up as he approached, her smile lighting up her face.

“Hey,” she said, standing to greet him. “You made it.”

“Hey,” Will replied, his voice slightly breathless—though not from the walk. “Thanks for inviting me here. It’s nice.”

She nodded, falling into step beside him as they started down the path. “Yeah, I come here when I need to clear my head.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant chatter of other park-goers. Will glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the way the sunlight caught her eyes. The golden hour light seemed to soften everything, and he felt a strange sense of calm, even as his nerves buzzed beneath the surface.

After a moment, Will broke the silence, his voice light and curious. “So, what made you move to this area? It’s not exactly the most… lively part of London.”

She hummed in thought, “Honestly? It was the flat. I’d been looking for ages, and when I saw the place, I just knew it was the one. Big windows, decent kitchen, and—most importantly—no mould. That’s a win in my book.”

He grinned. “No mould? Living the dream.”

“Exactly,” she said, smiling. “What about you? Why’d you move here?”

He tilted her head, thinking for a moment. “I needed a change. My old place was… fine, but it felt like I was just going through the motions there. You know? I wanted somewhere that felt like a fresh start. And when I saw the flat, I loved how quiet the street was. Well, most of the time.” Will shot her a playful look. She said nothing, just laughed.

Will changed the topic. “So, what’s with the reggaetón, then? That's what it's called, right? I mean, it’s not exactly what I’d expect to hear blasting in the morning.”

She smiled indulgently, clearly enjoying his curiosity. “It’s my go-to hype music. I used to live in Spain for a bit, and it just stuck with me. There’s something about it that just… wakes you up, you know? Gets you moving.”

Will nodded, pretending to consider it. “I mean, I can’t argue with that. It definitely woke me up. Every. Single. Morning.”

She laughed again, nudging him with her elbow. “Sorry, not sorry. But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been listening to it a bit quieter lately. Consider it a peace offering.”

“I appreciate it,” Will said, grinning. “Though I have to admit, the mornings have been a bit too quiet without it. I didn’t realise how much I’d gotten used to it.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing. “Are you saying you miss my music?”

“Maybe,” Will admitted, his cheeks heating up. “Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Too late.”

They continued walking, the conversation flowing effortlessly. At one point, she pointed out a small café tucked into the corner of the park, its windows glowing warmly in the fading light. “That place does the best hot chocolate,” she said. “Want to grab one?”

Will nodded, trying to hide his excitement. “Yeah, sounds perfect.”

The café was cosy, with mismatched furniture and the faint scent of cinnamon in the air. They found a table near the window, and Will couldn’t help but notice how the soft light made her eyes sparkle. They ordered two hot chocolates, and when they arrived, topped with whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder, Will couldn’t resist taking a photo.

“For the ‘gram,” he joked, holding up his phone.

She laughed, stirring her drink with a spoon. “Do you always document your food, or is this a special occasion?”

“Only when it’s this photogenic,” Will said, grinning. “And when I’m with good company.”

She smiled at that, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Smooth.”

“I try,” Will said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. It was rich and creamy, exactly what he needed on a cool evening. “So, Spain, huh? What took you there?”

She leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “The company I worked for closed the branch in the UK, but I was in the middle of a project at the time with an important client, so I had to move until it was complete.”

Will nodded, intrigued. “That’s amazing. Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” she said, her smile softening. “But I think I needed to come back. It’s easy to get stuck in one place, you know?”

“I get that,” Will said, his tone thoughtful. “I’ve always wanted to travel more, but I never seem to find the time.”

She smiled and nodded. “You should. Life’s too short.”

They stayed at the café for a while, talking about everything and nothing—favourite places they’d visited, the worst food they’d ever tried, whether they were morning people or night owls (she was definitely a morning person, much to Will’s amusement). The conversation was easy, natural, and Will found himself wishing the evening would never end.

As they left the café, the cool evening air wrapping around them like a blanket, she turned to him with a smile. “Thanks for today,” she said, her voice soft. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” Will replied, his voice equally quiet. “We should do it again sometime.”

She nodded, her smile widening. “I’d like that.”

And as they walked back to their flats, the city lights flickering to life around them, Will couldn’t help but feel like everything was falling into place. For the first time in a long time, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[billiesguitar]

Fuckboy!Billie x Nerdy!Reader | Au Masterlist

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Blurbs

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Chapters - 2 3 4 5

How they first met...

You'd never been one for partying. You loved hanging out with your friends but the whole club scene was never your vibe. But tonight was different. You'd been dragged out of your dorm by your friends because "You never go out!" and "You need to live a little!" So you found yourself at a party, feeling out of place and a bit overwhelmed by the loud music, flashing lights, and the press of bodies around you. You'd been sipping on a drink for what felt like hours, trying to blend into the background and hoping no one would notice you.

And then you saw her. Billie Eilish, the girl everyone talked about at college. You weren't one to date but your friends did always talk about her, warning you to never ever cross her path. She was known to be a player. Yet, you weren't worried, its not like she even knew who you were, or so you thought.

Your friends, dispersed throughout the party, leaving you alone in a corner with your drink. You made your way to the empty kitchen and sat on one of the marble counter tops. That's when the door opened and immediately you knew who it was by the back of her baseball cap. She said a final word to whoever she was talking to before turning her attention back to the kitchen, to you. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest, smirking.

"You know you're not supposed to be in here." she said, her voice was deeper than you'd imagined, and sent a shiver down your spine.

"I'm just taking a break." you replied, trying to sound calm despite the racing of your heart.

"A break from what? Having fun?" she took a step closer, her dark eyes piercing through the dim light.

"I don't do this kind of thing." you said, taking a sip of your drink.

"Don't do what? Party?" she took another step closer, the smell of her perfume, something sweet and musky, filling your nostrils.

"No, I mean, I guess sometimes." you gestured to the party outside.

"What do you do?" she tilted her head, her curiosity peaking.

"I just… I don't know, I'm not like a party person."

"What makes you say that?" she was closer now, looking you over.

You looked away, playing with the hem of your shirt. "I'm just not into… that."

"What are you into?" she questions, stepping closer to refill her drink with the stuff on the table.

"I'm into… books and music and movies… I don't know, just chilling."

Her smirk grew, "Books, huh?" she took a swig from her cup, watching you over the rim. "What do you read?"

"Everything, I guess. But I'm really into mystery and romance." you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Hmm." she tilts her head and smirks, stepping a bit closer. "What's your favorite movie, hm?"

You blush at the question, "I don't have just one."

"Liar." she says with a chuckle, "Everyone has one, tell me."

"Okay, okay, if I had to pick… it's probably the whole Scream franchise."

She bites her lip in a way that makes your whole body warm. "Scream…interesting."

You look up at her, feeling the heat from her body and the intensity of her gaze. "What's yours?"

"Mines probably-" She gets cut off by some girl bursting through the door, "m'Billie!" she slurs, clearly drunk. Billie rolls her eyes and turns back to you, "Sorry I gotta take care of this, I never got your name." "My name? uhm, Y/n." you answer shyly. "Alright, I'll see you 'round, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a bit disappointed, but she didn't leave. Instead she leaned in and whispered into your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Don't go anywhere."

You watch her leave, feeling the heat of her words linger. You're not sure what she means by it, but something in her tone makes your heart race. You decide to stay put, taking another sip of your drink, hoping she'd come back.

in the meantime you continued drinking. Quite a bit actually. By the time Billie comes back, you're feeling a bit tipsy.

"You still here?" she asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I'm drunk, I think."

Her eyes widened for a moment before she chuckles, "You're adorable."

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, taking the cup from your hand. "You've had enough of that."

You pouted, but she didn't give it back. "Give it back!" you whine, reaching for it.

But she's too fast, placing it on the counter out of your reach. You were never one to drink much, but you got caught up.

"Come on," she says, taking your hand, "Let's go."

You stumble as she leads you out of the kitchen and through the party. You're not sure where you're going, but you don't care. You just want to be with her.

The party is loud and you feel like you're in a daze. Billie leads you down the hallway and into a balcony. You both sit down, "what are we doing here?" you ask, a bit confused. "You smoke?" Billie pulls out some pre-rolls out of her pocket, she reaches into the pocket again to take out her lighter but doesn't seem to find it. So you reach into your own bag and pull out a hello kitty one. "No but my friends do." you say, handing it over.

"Perfect," she says, taking it and lighting one up. She takes a drag and offers it to you.

You hesitate before taking it, feeling the warm smoke fill your lungs. You cough a bit, not used to it, but she just chuckles, patting your back gently.

"Thanks," you murmur, passing it back to her.

"So, Y/n," she says, her eyes on you as she takes another drag, "You got a boyfriend?" she passes the blunt. "Uhm, no-" you chuckle and take a drag, "I'm uhh, on the other side of things."

Her eyebrows shoot up, "Oh really?" she takes the blunt back, "So you're into girls then?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"What about me?" she asks, her voice a low purr that makes you want to lean closer.

You swallow hard, "Yeah, I guess."

"Just guess?" she smirks, taking a hit before leaning in closer, "You guess you want this?" she says, her voice a whisper that sends your heart racing.

You nodded, your eyes locked on her lips.

Without warning, she presses her mouth against yours, her hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You melt into the kiss, feeling your inhibitions slipping away as the alcohol and the thrill of the moment take over. She tastes like mint and a hint of something else, something sweet and addicting.

Her tongue slides into your mouth and you moan, your hand coming up to grip her shirt. She pulls back, chuckling. "Good, because I don't do vanilla."

Before you can ask what she means, she's on her feet, pulling you up with her. She leads you to the bedroom, the party sounds fading away as the door shuts behind you.

The room is dimly lit, with the glow of a lava lamp casting shadows across the walls. She turns to face you, her eyes dark and intense.

"Take your shirt off," she commands.

You obey, fumbling with the buttons before it falls to the floor. She takes a step closer, running her hands over your bare skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever she touches. She reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with a swift motion. It falls away and she palms your breasts, her thumbs flicking over your nipples until they're hard, making you gasp.

"Good girl," she murmurs, her teeth grazing your earlobe. "Now, the pants."

You obey again, letting your jeans fall to the floor. She steps back, eyeing you hungrily. "You're so pretty," she says, her voice thick with desire.

"Thank you," you whisper, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"You don't have to thank me," she says, her voice firm.

"turn around and get on the bed"

You comply, feeling the coolness of the bed underneath you. You lay down on your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel her climb on the bed, her weight shifting the mattress.

"Spread your legs," she orders.

You do as she says, feeling a rush of excitement and fear.

Her hand slides down your body, her fingertips brushing over your panties before she hooks them down and off your legs, leaving you bare. Her hand caresses your skin, moving over your ass and down your thighs before sliding between your legs. She runs her fingers through your wetness, making you moan into the pillow.

"So responsive," she says, her voice a mix of amusement and approval.

Her fingers continue to explore, pushing into you with a firmness that makes you gasp. You're so turned on, you can feel yourself getting wetter.

"Billie," you moan, arching your back.

"Mm, I like that," she says, her voice thick with lust.

Her hand moves away and you hear the sound of a drawer opening and closing. When she touches you again, it's with her strap on. It's cold at first, but quickly warms as she presses it against you.

"You've never had one of these before, have you?" she asks.

You shake your head, your eyes wide with anticipation.

"Good," she says, "You're going to love it."

With one hand, she holds the base of the strap on, the other hand caressing your back, her breath hot against your neck as she whispers, "Ready?"

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. She positions herself behind you, aligning herself with your entrance.

"Remember, you're mine tonight," she says, pushing into you slowly.

You gasp, the feeling of being filled so suddenly overwhelming. She's rough, but not too much. She knows exactly what she's doing, and it's clear she's not new to this. She starts to move, her hips rocking back and forth, her hand reaching around to play with your clit as she fucks you deeper.

"Yes," you moan, pushing back against her.

"That's it, baby," she encourages, her voice a low growl.

Her movements become more erratic, her thrusts deeper and harder. "m'fuck!" you shout into the pillow.

"You like that?" she asks, her breath hot on your skin.

"Yes, yes," you pant, your body responding to her every touch.

"Good girl, so responsive." she praises, her hand smacking your ass, leaving a stinging sensation that only adds to your arousal.

You can feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening around her. She reaches down and grabs your hair, pulling your head back.

"Look at me," she commands.

You turn your head to look into her eyes, seeing the desire and dominance in them.

"Come for me," she says, her voice a demand.

And just like that, you do. Your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your pussy clenching around her strap-on. She continues to fuck you through it, not letting up until you're a quivering mess beneath her.

When she's done, she pulls out and flips you over, straddling your chest. She unbuckles the strap-on and tosses it aside. Billie's hand wraps around your neck, she presses her lips to yours, kissing you deeply, tasting yourself on her tongue.

Billie stands up and starts to put on her clothes, but not before writing her number on an orange post-it note and jokingly sticking it on your chest.

"Call me," she says, before leaving the room.

[7s3ven]

UR MY LOVER. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Camp Half-Blood has its very own band to entertain themselves. Most of the campers aren’t sure where they get their electricity for their instruments but one thing they are certain about is that the substitute lead singer and lead guitarist definitely have a thing for each other.

“Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth. The girl in my story has always been you.”

A/N : Luke seems like he’d be in a band

Warning : sex references, some details differ from the og books, modern references

—

Y/N has been lounging in the sun on her rickety front porch when something, or rather someone, blocked the rays of warmth. She groaned, lowering her sunglasses to get a better look at who was bothering her.

“What?” She grumbled to the mischievous son of Hermes, Luke. It’s not like she hated him, quite the opposite to be honest. His presence was a breath of fresh air in her stressful days at Camp Half-Blood. But she was sleep-deprived and in desperate need of a rest. Luke merely smiled down at her, unthreatened by her hostile tone.

“Hey, little bolt.” He uttered, crouching down beside her to almost match her height. Y/N rolled her eyes, pushing her glasses back up with her middle finger. “So as you know, Chiron is letting us form a band. The only problem is I have an electric guitar and, you know, it needs electricity. And there’s not enough ‘round here. Personally, I think we’re lucky to have a daughter of Zeus.”

Y/N scoffed. “No.” She quickly retorted, already guessing what he was going to ask her. “I won’t power your stupid performances.”

“What? Why would I ask that? I was going to ask you if you wanted a quicky backstage.” Luke sarcastically joked, his lips curving into a cheeky smirk. Y/N’s lips curled into an unamused sneer as she set her sharp gaze on the boy beside her. “Help me out this one time, babe.”

“Ew,” She furrowed her eyebrows in disgust, “Don’t call me that.”

“Come on, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna stop until you agree. I won’t ever ask for this favor again, pudding.” His nicknames were becoming increasingly worse and Y/N's ears were practically bleeding. Y/N cringed and covered her ears, desperately wanting to bang her head into a wall to drown his voice out. Her last thread was Luke calling her kitty.

“Okay!” She sat up, flinging her glasses at him. Luke effortlessly caught them, looking down at the intricate rims. He traced his fingers over the gems embedded in the sides. They shined in the light and small rainbows reflected off them. “Just stop calling me those horrid names!” She exclaimed, slapping his shoulder.

He grinned, “Deal. Practice is tonight, 8 pm sharp. Don’t be late.” He tossed Y/N’s glasses back at her and quickly stood up. “See ya, princess.”

Y/N wanted to hurl a rock at him for that stupid pet name but Luke was already running away, bellowing out a laugh as he tilted his head back in amusement. “I’m going to electrocute you, Luke! I hope your guitar backfires!” She screamed, earning another chuckle from Luke.

“Yo, guys.” He burst into his cabin, grinning at Chris and Charles who were positioned on his bed, lazily lying down. “Y/N’s in. Now we just need a lead singer. Charles, how’s convincing Silena going?”

Charles pressed his lips into a thin line. “You know she has stage fright.” He uttered, referring to his girlfriend, “Maybe if I mentioned that Y/N will be there then she’ll go? I think she has a girl crush on Y/N.” Charles let out a low chortle.

Everyone liked Y/N, apart from when she was deprived of sleep and grumpy. She was like a fire ready to flare up, stalking its way through the high grass.

“So, how did you convince Y/N? I heard from Annabeth that she was in a particularly bad mood today.” Chris uttered, chuckling. "Did you promise her sex or something?" Luke shrugged as Charles chucked a can of Sprite his way.

He pulled back the tab and the can opened with a pop and fizz. “Nah. A part of me wishes, though. I might get some if I did. But, I have my ways.” He retorted, grinning. “Band practice is at eight. Charles, do your best to get Silena on board because I can’t deal with Clarisse as lead singer.” Luke sighed, taking a huge gulp from his can. Chris chuckled while Charles silently nodded in agreement.

“She is rather hard to deal with.” Charles muttered, his voice almost a whisper in fear that Clarisse would overhear him.

Luke would have asked Y/N to be the band’s lead singer but he knew she wasn’t happy with having to power up his guitar. She’d rather jump in water than agree to sing and she hated water. It probably had something to do with the fact that she could create electricity with her bare hands.

Water and lightning never went well together.

Luke was buzzing with excitement as he jogged towards an abandoned cabin Chiron had agreed to let them use for practice. He opened the creaky door, surprised to see Y/N already sitting on a dusty couch.

“I already hate it here.” She said, turning to face him. He cracked a grin.

“Not enough sleep last night, huh?”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “I barely got any. Some idiots were up all night, singing their hearts out to Olivia Rodrigo.” Luke was ashamed to admit that those idiots were him, Chris, and the Stoll brothers. “I mean, how much of a loser do you have to be to scream your heart out to jealousy?”

“I don’t know.” Luke shrugged, sitting next to her. Dust surrounded the air around him and he coughed, fanning it away with his hand. His actions made Y/N lightly chuckle. “Maybe they related to the lyrics. Unlike you, perfect girl.”

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not perfect. I’m far from it.” Luke quickly turned to face her, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

“How come? You’re pretty and smart and you’ve got Zeus as your dad. Come on, you hit the jackpot on that one.” Luke grinned and the corners of Y/N’s lips twitched.

“You think I’m perfect?” She asked, confused. She quietly laughed, giving Luke an almost judging stare. “I don’t even have my life together. How can I be perfect?”

“Most of us don’t have our lives together. Look at me, I’m well over sixteen now and I’m starting a band at camp because there’s nothing to do ‘round here. And I’m also sitting in a dodgy looking cabin with dust everywhere. But hey, at least I have a pretty girl with me.”

Y/N stared at Luke for a second before she huffed in amusement. “You’re a no-good flirt, Luke.” She playfully shoved him.

“You seem in a better mood.” He smiled, proud of himself.

“You had nothing to do with it, I can assure you.” She rolled her eyes and turned her head, spotting Chris, Silena, and Charles walking towards the cabin. “Looks like your band mates are here.” She uttered, sitting up.

“Hey man, what’s up!” Chris joyfully greeted Luke while Charles’ approach was more quiet. Silena smiled at Luke and waved at Y/N with a bright smile.

“Alright, so everybody’s here. We got Charles on drums, Chris as back up guitar, me as lead and sub vocals, and Silena as vocals.” Luke loudly clapped his hands as away to earn everybody’s attention.

“Does that make me your back-up generator then?” Y/N butted in.

“Yeah. Hold this, darling.” Luke handed her a cord that connected to his guitar and she begrudgingly took it.

“No more names.” She warned, sending a small current to shock Luke. He yelped, taken aback, all while Y/N smirked. She stayed true to her words to electrocute Luke if he ever annoyed her.

Y/N lay on the couch, clutching onto the cord and aimlessly staring at the ceiling. The sound of Charles’ loud drums and Silena’s soft voice merged with the loud ringing in Y/N’s ears. She kept her eyes fixed on a certain spot, completely dazed until Luke pressed a cold can to her face.

“We’re taking a break.” He said, offering her a drink. She arched an eyebrow.

“Why are you giving me one?” She questioned, sitting up and taking it away.

Luke shrugged. “I mean, you are powering up my guitar. You deserve a little thanks.”

Y/N merely stared at Luke before cracking open the can, taking a small sip. “I trust you haven’t drugged this?”

Luke lightly snorted. “I have no purpose to put coke in your drink.” He held out his hand, silently asking for sip. Y/N shoved the can into his arms.

“So, when did you get the idea of forming a band?” She questioned, tapping her foot against the wooden floor. She glanced at Luke who smiled, a strange wishful look in his gaze.

“I’ve always loved music.” He admitted, “And being a demigod, you don’t exactly have a lot of chances. I did play at one festival, though… and it was amazing. But then I got attacked by a monster.” Luke chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. “It was still the best moment of my life. And I want that kind of joy back.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it back. What’s it like playing the guitar?” She quirked an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. Luke grinned, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth.

“Amazing. You wanna learn?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I can hardly hold a guitar correctly, let alone play it, Luke.”

“Come on, pretty. I’ll show ya.”

“I need two hands to play. But I also need to power up the guitar. How do you suppose that’ll work?”

“You’ll figure out a way. You always do.”

That’s how Y/N ended up holding the plug with Luke sitting almost directly behind her, guiding her hands. He smiled as Y/N struggled, her fingers never quite reaching the right chords.

A twig snapped and Chris walked into the cabin, wiping away sweat with the back of his hand. “Man, it is hot outside- Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt something?” Chris paused, staring the pair.

“No.” Y/N quickly answered. They practically jumped away from each other. She handed Luke his guitar, clearing her throat.

“I should get going.” She announced to nobody in particular. She briefly smiled at the two boys before spinning around on her heels, quickly walking away.

“Hey, pretty, wait!” Luke stood up in a hurry but Y/N was already out the door and walking past the tall trees.

Y/N rubbed her tired eyes as she waltzed out of her cabin, almost screaming when she saw Luke leaned up against the wall.

He grinned and greeted her, tipping an imaginary hat. “Hey, pretty. You up for charging my guitar today? I need to practice my riffs.”

Y/N thickly gulped, looking for any sign of Chris or Charles or even Silena, who she knew was busy with teaching kids archery. “… Alone?” She questioned after a long pause.

“Yeah. Does that bother you? I can practice another time.” Luke offered.

The warm sun bore down on Y/N as she stared at Luke. “No… it’s not a problem. When do you want to practice?”

Luke stood up straight, folding his arms over his chest. He grinned down at Y/N. “Right now if you’re free, pretty. But it looks like you just woke up. Bad sleep?”

“Hardly any at all. Again.” Y/N retorted, sour and harsh. She silently followed Luke to the cabin, raising her eyes in surprise when she saw the lack of dust. “You cleaned it?” She questioned, craning her head to get a better look.

“Yup. The dust was getting to my eyes.” Luke uttered. Y/N hummed in quiet approval.

“You’d make a good house husband. You can clean, you can charm your way through everything, and you can play guitar. What’s next? Cooking?”

Luke smugly smirked, “I’m actually great with a pan, pretty. I’ll make you cinnamon toast someday. Or do you prefer pancakes?”

“Food is food.” She shrugged. “So, how’s the guitar going?” She fiddled with the cord, “I always wanted to learn piano. I tried it a few times but it never stuck.”

“I think you’d look charming playing the piano, pretty.” He flirtatiously smiled, twirling a strand of Y/N’s H/C hair around his finger. Y/N stiffened, her cheeks practically glowing red.

“Are you going to practice or stare at me until we grow eighty?” Y/N muttered, leaning away from Luke.

“I think I’m going to continue staring.” He retorted, winking at her. Y/N looked away, lightly frowning.

“So, what songs are you going to sing?”

“Silena’s gonna be doing most of the vocal work but there’s one song I’ll be singing.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, silently telling him to continue because as much as she tried to dislike being here with Luke, she was curious. Luke plucked at the guitar strings, humming out a quiet melody.

“Wait.” Y/N articulated, “You aren’t going to sing to me, right? I don’t want a Barbie moment.”

“Too bad.” Luke replied, already getting ready to sing. Y/N softly groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was expecting Luke’s voice to be like nails on a chalkboard, a horrible sound overall, but the lyrics slipped past his lips and Y/N found herself not entirely hating it.

“Are you seriously singing Elvis Presley?” She said over the sound of Luke’s voice and guitar. He merely grinned, nodding his head.

“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you?” Luke smiled, his gaze never faltering. He was staring straight at Y/N as he meticulously played complicated chords. She felt uncomfortable under his eyes and a part of her wanted to sink into the couch. “This is one of your favourite songs, is it not?” Luke asked as he continued strumming.

“How would you know that, Luke?”

“Trust me, pretty. I hear you singing with the Apollo kids. As grumpy as you are without sleep sometimes, you sure sound cheerful when you’re singing Elvis. Join in on the singing, won’t ya?”

“Like a river flows. Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.” Luke swayed, waiting for Y/N to join. She begrudgingly did.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help…falling in love with you.” They sang in unison. Y/N’s eyes were focused straight ahead of her while Luke’s ran over her soft features and lips that had been tinted with lipstick.

“Like a river flows. Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.”

Luke couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as Y/N’s voice drowned out his own and he stopped singing. She was far too lost in the music to notice.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you.” Y/N turned back to Luke, faltering when she saw how he was staring at her. Like she was his whole world or like she had planted the beautiful stars in the sky.

“For I can't help… falling in love with you.” Luke sang the iconic last line, grinning. His face was much closer to Y/N’s than he anticipated, causing her to flinch. She didn’t shuffle away, though.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look… pretty?” Luke chuckled at how his sentence and his nickname for Y/N clashed. The apples of her cheeks turned bright pink and she didn’t sneer at him this time. She only stared at him with eyes that were vulnerable lest Luke give her another compliment.

The door to the haughty shack slammed open, Charles entering. He spluttered in surprise when he saw Y/N and Luke. “Sorry… I can leave and come back… if you want…”

Y/N stood up, brushing the non-existent dust off her shirt. “It’s fine. I was just leaving.” She didn’t spare Luke another glance as she hurried out, flustered.

“Were you two about to kiss?” Charles questioned. Luke frustratingly groaned, holding his face in his head.

“I liked to think we were going to.”

Y/N stood in the side lines of the stage, holding Luke’s cord while staring at a clipboard she held in her other hand. It was the list of songs Luke had given her to keep her occupied.

i, Lovesick by Laufey - sung by Silena

ii, Venus by Regina Song - sung by Silena

iii, Can’t help falling in love by Elvis - sung by Luke

The second song fit the daughter of Aphrodite. Y/N glanced at the stage, her eyes immediately finding Luke. He was helping Charles set up his drums. Luke seemed to sense her eyes on him and he lifted his head, smirking.

Y/N quickly diverted her gaze as she heard Luke jog towards her. “Hey, pretty.” He greeted her, “Silena’s vocals can only take so much singing so are you good taking over the last song?”

“No.” Y/N answered but Luke didn’t hear her, or he chose to ignore her.

“Thanks, pretty. I owe you one. Love ya!” He ran off while Y/N mentally cursed at him. She angrily looked at the list, her eyes slightly softening when she saw the song.

iv, Lover (remix) by Taylor Swift + Shawn Mendes

It was one of her favourite songs. She could remember listening to it when she wasn’t aware of her demigod status, always wishing for a love as pure as Jack and Rose’s. Despite being swamped by complicated emotions, she was still a teenage girl secretly wishing for a teen romance like the books and movies and songs suggested.

The makeshift concert started with a short light show conducted by an Iris kid and that’s when the band finally stepped out. The demigod crowd cheered, clapping their hands. The Aphrodite girls were holding signs up for Silena and Luke quietly chuckled as his Hermes brothers yelled a little too loudly.

Silena’s voice was beautiful as she sang and Y/N found herself shrinking back. How could she compete with that? She didn’t even want to sing. She was fine sitting backstage with nothing but a clipboard to stare at.

At least Luke seemed to be enjoying himself and all the attention he was gaining from the girls. Y/N felt her chest tighten. It’s not like she had feelings for Luke… did she? In this moment, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be an Aphrodite kid because at least they could sense love.

Luke sang the melody to the Elvis Presley song with as much tenderness as he did in the cabin, occasionally glancing over at Y/N to see her mouthing the words.

“Pretty, you’re up.” Luke said as the band hurried back stage for a small break. He took the guitar cord from Y/N, plugging it into some sort of machine that she didn’t recognise. “Drink some water so you don’t get dehydrated. You know the words, don’t ya?”

Y/N could only nod, too confused to process everything at once. “What about your guitar?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t ya worry.” Luke ushered her up the steps onto the brightly lit stage. “Alright guys, we’re back. Did ya miss us? Of course you did. Anyway, Silena’s swamped so we’ve got Y/N singing. Don’t worry, folks, she has a great voice when she’s feeling nice.”

Luke cheekily grinned as he adjusted his headset microphone while Y/N glared at him.

“Anyway, this song will be a duet between me and Y/N. Last song for the night, hope you guys enjoy!”

The music started playing immediately, causing Y/N to stiffen. She locked eyes with Luke, who was standing a meter away from her, nodding his head to the beat.

“We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January. And this is our place, we make the rules.” She hesitatingly sang, earning a few hollers from the Apollo cabin. “And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear. Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”

“Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my…” The vivid image of Y/N and Luke singing together, their faces millimetres apart, haunted Y/N. She could feel her cheeks heat up as she glanced at Luke once more only to see that he was already smiling at her.

“Lover.” Luke mouthed as Y/N sang.

Luke tapped his foot, slowly playing his guitar. “We could light a bunch of candles and dance around the kitchen, baby. Pictures of when we were young would hang on the wall. We would sit on the stoop. I'll sing love songs to you when we're eighty.”

“See, I finally got you now, honey, I won't let you fall.” They lulled out in unison. “Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever, ah. Take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my lover.” Their voices blended together perfectly and the crowd found themselves swaying to the music, clearly noticing the romantic tension between Luke and Y/N.

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand. I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.” Y/N nervously clasped her hands around her mic, her breath shuddering when Luke beamed at her.

“Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth. The girl in my story has always been you.” Luke strummed the guitar cords as he walked towards Y/N, “I’d go down with the Titanic, it’s true. For you, lover.”

The music ended there, despite the song still having another chorus left. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at Luke. “You had enough electricity this whole time?” She whispered away from the mic.

“Yeah. I just wanted to spend time with you, pretty. I like you, Y/N. More than I should admit because my fan girls will be a little upset.” Luke chuckled as he jogged off stage, Y/N following close behind.

“So I used my electricity for nothing? You could’ve just asked me to accompany you!” Y/N slapped his shoulder.

“Oh, come on, pretty. Be realistic. You wouldn’t have come if I merely asked. Even if I confessed to you then and there.”

“And what exactly do you like about me?”

“Everything, Y/N. The way your eyes shine when you read, the way you smile when you sing Elvis songs, and the way you have freckles that line up in a square, like constellations on your face. The truth is, you could break my heart into tiny little pieces and I’d still pick them up for you to hold. You like rainbows, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“I adore you, Y/N. And it doesn’t matter that sometimes our worlds are coloured with different hues. Because when the colours bleed into each other, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Apart from your face and soul, of course.”

“What if the colour turns out to be an ugly yellow?”

“You’re ruining the mood, pretty.”

Y/N clicked her tongue as she tilted forward, gingerly pressed a soft kiss to Luke’s lips. He gently gasped.

“Your mics is on, by the way.” She whispered, “Just thought you’d like to know.”

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303

[twola]

Went a bit more existential with this one.

Holy

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You’re beautiful there, spread out on his cot.

Of course, he thinks you’re beautiful everywhere - in the light of the morning sipping coffee; in the golden afternoon as you’re sneaking treats to his horse. In the sparkle of nightfall, where the stars and campfire dance in your eyes.

But here, here, is where he thinks you’re most beautiful. Utterly bare and chest heaving in his cot, the low light of the lantern illuminating the curves and divots in your skin. You’re beautiful here, in the midnight hours, completely his.

Your sweat-dotted skin and tousled hair, pebbled nipples and the dewy sheen of wetness that he can see on the dark hair that shrouds your cunt.

You are the most beautiful, holy thing he’s ever seen as you open your legs farther, smiling up at him as he leans above you, stroking his needy cock as he situates his knees on the sides of your thighs.

If he believed in prayer he would say one in this moment, guiding himself to you.

He presses the weeping head of his flesh against the petal like skin of your folds, rubbing through them as your breath hitches. He collects your arousal on himself, breathing through his nose as his hand grips the base of himself.

A breathy gasp from your lips reaches his ear as he presses the head of his cock through the rim of your cunt.

He cannot help but to watch how your teeth sink into your lower lip, your eyes squeezing shut as he splits you, as he parts you and his flesh enters you.

You whimper as he continues his journey forward.

Another inch.

If there was a god, he must not be but too pissed with Arthur - not with the way he’s feeling now, not with the way the vice of your cunt feels on the head of his cock - wet and warm and so goddamn tight.

Another inch.

Your eyes flutter open as you grow used to his intrusion, and he swears you bat your eyelashes I almost a coquettish manner up at him. Christ, the power you have over him when he’s inside you - you could demand of him anything and by God’s sake, he would do it for you.

Another flighty breath escapes your lips and he cannot help it anymore. He is but a simple, sinful man, and he snaps his hips forward to completely sheath himself within your cunt. Your eyes widen and you whimper again at the movement.

The curls of the hair at the base of his shaft press against your clit, making you shiver, his pelvis flush against yours.

He’s spread out atop you, all twitching muscles and weather-beaten skin. You’re small beneath him, sunken down in the cot with your legs spread wide ‘round his hips.

Your breath comes out in a gasp as he settles himself over you, one elbow keeping the bulk of his weight off of your frame.

He stays still, his flesh within yours, reverent at the intimacy of it all. That you would allow, nay, want him in such a way. That you would choose a man like him to bury himself inside your body. That you would choose him, of all men, to touch you and feel you and climb inside the most special part of you.

The wet warmth of your core makes him shudder, succumbing to the feeling and shutting his eyes as he lays upon you, burrowing his forehead into the curve of your neck. Your arms wind around his neck, your slender fingers gently twining through the short ends of his hair.

His chapped lips press against your neck as a contented sigh escapes you. God, he could stay here forever, draped over your supple frame, all of him holstered inside you - warm and tight and wanted.

“Arthur…”

He grunts softly as he presses up on his elbow, hovering above you to catch your gaze.

The flush in your cheeks is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Your lips spread into an infectious smile that he cannot help but to return.

He swears, for all of the sinning he has done, and continues to do, that some heavenly deity has extended some kind of mercy upon him. For here, tangled up in each other, sheathed so sweetly inside you, this is the closest to heaven that a man like him could hope to get to.

[onekeii]

'Cause it's Christmas!

Day 8: Touch starved Stray Kids: Lee Know x GN!Reader Warnings/Genre: hurt to comfort, fluff, alcohol consumption, reader drinks irresponsibly, reader wears makeup (lipstick), just a tad depressing but in a good way, not proof read Word count: 1,006 AN: for those of us who don’t want to go home for the holidays, lots of love <3

Read on AO3

Christmas sucks.

Christmas wasn’t about giving presents, eating good food, or smiling with family and friends. For you, it was about faking smiles, navigating shouting matches, and forgetting to breathe.

Well, you’d had enough.

This was your first year spending Christmas alone. All your friends had gone home to their warm and loving families, while you… sat. The white walls of your apartment, barren from fairy lights or tinsel, were your company for tonight. If you squinted, you might believe you weren’t drinking on your own.

Your hand held, rather carelessly, a whisky tumbler. Filled to the brim with the remainder of a nice spirit a friend left you with, the glass’ rim was stained red from how many times you brought it to your lips that night. Why did you even put on lipstick? There was no one to impress, no mistletoe to kiss under - just a burn in your throat, and another dish to scrub at tomorrow. 

One more gulp, one more greasy red stain on the glass, and you downed the rest of the drink. “I should set an alarm for tomorrow,” you’ve started thinking out loud. But you don’t set the alarm. Your phone was- somewhere, and probably dead. “I’ll only check it when Christmas is over,” you promised yourself while still sober. If you received just one message, notification, photo, of someone enjoying their time, you’d break your phone for sure. 

Still, this was better than being at home.

You put the fragile glass down on the floor with a not-so-fragile bang. Then you bundled your blankets around you, over your head and around your shoulders, until you were completely covered. It was definitely warm, but the soft fleece was just a reminder of how utterly cold you felt; no blanket could fix you. 

Knock knock.

Blinking, like an owl, you swivel your head round to face the door. It’s Christmas Eve, what could anyone possibly want? Maybe your neighbours were just being loud, or you were finally starting to hear things. You turn back to face the wall.

Knock knock knock. With more urgency this time.

“Okay! Fine, wait!” You yell. You’re trapped in your prison of blankets, sluggishly fighting your way through the soft mess. Every movement rattles your brain in your skull like a violent child with a snowglobe. It hurts, pounding behind your eyes and pulling your scalp tight. The whisky glass comes into view, in threes, when you finally break free. You curse it.

Your hands find purchase on any nearby surface - the couch, the doorframe, the coat rack (it nearly topples over), and finally, the door handle. With all your strength - a little too much - you yank the door open, “It’s Christmas Eve,” you slur with little pride, “what- Minho?”

It takes two blinks to be sure. At first, you’re not surprised he’s there, you’re just unsure whether it’s actually him. Yes, that’s the stern expression you know so well, cutting through you. Well, now there’s two of him.

“Yeah, it’s Christmas Eve,” he scoffs, inviting himself inside, “so why,” he stops when you wobble and plant your hands on his arm for support, “are you like this?”

“‘Cause it’s Christmas!” you cheer. You’re too dizzy to feel any shame. 

Minho’s eyebrows snap together at your state. What would have happened to you if he didn’t come? 

“When I told my parents you were spending Christmas alone, they asked for you to come over, but…” he sighed, looking you up and down as you pawed at his jumper, “I can’t bring you over like this.”

One arm wraps around his torso, then another, then he’s being squeezed. Tight. You knock the air out of Minho for a moment, but your face shows no sign of any evil deeds. You’re burrowing your head into the space between his neck and shoulder, the fabric of his red Christmas jumper is horrible and scratchy but he’s warm, in a way much more fulfilling than any blanket or hard liquor. 

“Then don’t,” your voice is muffled into his neck. Minho’s more taken aback by, more than anything else, the fact that you managed to hear what he said, “Huh?”

You shoot your head up to look him in the eyes. It takes a minute, they finally sink into your vision without you seeing doubles, but they’re definitely there - he’s definitely there. His face is so close to yours, you’re sure he can smell the alcohol in your breath. Hot, you think, snapping your mouth shut. “Stay here? For a bit?” you plead, “I don’t wanna be alone for Christmas after all- it’s awful,” your eyes are welling up now, tears separating Minho from your sight once more.

But he wasn’t going to say no - you didn’t even need to start crying for that. “I wasn’t gonna leave you,” there’s the tiniest bit of venom in his voice, as if he were offended you would even think otherwise, “You need to go to bed.”

“No-” your voice catches, a hiccup stops you from finishing your sentence. “Maybe,” you giggle. Minho just shakes his head, but he winds one arm around your shoulders, the other snaking behind your knees. Your stomach drops for a second as he lifts you up without a struggle or grunt of effort. You swing your legs back and forth a little, testing his balance, but he doesn’t falter. 

Then you’re in bed, and he’s pulling the covers up to your chin. Despite sitting on the edge with you, Minho makes no move to get in until you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull, hard. “Okay, okay, fine,” he wraps the blankets around the both of you. He lets you curl into his chest, your head tucked under his chin, fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces. 

His smell, the steady rise and fall of his chest, his shallow breaths against your head, the heat from his palms pressed into your back - finally, you feel warm. Actually warm. 

For the first time ever, Christmas doesn’t suck. 

@12daysofchristmas

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[suguwu]

minors and ageless blogs dni.

your planet was known for its sapphires.

the mines dried up a handful of years ago. the ipc scraped the deposits down to the marrow, until not even the smallest glint of crystal existed.

most of the sapphires were off-planet, now, adorning the arms of the elite throughout the cosmos, shining brilliantly even in the dimmest light. they gleamed dark blue, like where the ocean meets the sun, all shimmering waters. the fathomless depths.

aventurine wears a bracelet made of them.

technically, it's yours.

you lost it to him under the two moons of a planet you've long forgotten the name of. you only remember the blushing rose of its sky reflecting off of the bone dice.

it was a stupid thing to put up as collateral. but you were stupid, back then, high off of innumerable victories.

your hands were shaking too badly to undo the clasp; he had to do it for you. he slipped it onto his own wrist, his expression unreadable, and you wondered if the gems still carried the heat of your skin.

he showed up again six system months later, with a smug little secret tucked up in the corner of his easy grin. he'd slung the bracelet into the pot without even glancing at you.

he only looked at you after you'd won it back.

"i don't lose often," he told you. "how about a drink?"

you should have declined, but you didn't. you let him buy you one round, and then two, and by the third, you'd said some things you shouldn't have.

the ipc acquired that planet a few weeks later.

you moved.

aventurine found you again in epsilon, reigning over a poker table. you'd scowled at him when he sat down across from you; he'd just smiled.

"nothing personal," he said. "just business."

"fuck off," you said, but he hadn't.

he won easily. you pushed your chips over to him and he caught you by the wrist.

"wanna chance to win it back?" he asked.

"i don't have anything left."

he tapped a gloved fingertip over one of the sapphires.

"no," you said.

"shame," he said. "i liked that."

"then buy one."

he tilted his head. "we both know i can't."

you flinched. you couldn't help but cover the bracelet with your hand, as if doing so would make his knowledge disappear.

aventurine smiled. "alright then," he said. "next time, maybe."

"there won't be a next time."

"we'll see."

there was a next time. you don't have the money you lost to him, and he ran a thumb over the sapphires. he left the table with them glinting on his wrist, night-sky blue.

the time after that, he traced his fingers over the delicate skin of your inner wrist after clicking the clasp shut. the stones were still warm from his body heat.

you left before you did something stupid.

it went like that for a long while, the bracelet constantly changing wrists. you knew you shouldn't be betting it, but you couldn't quite help yourself.

"ambassador," aventurine said. "imagine meeting you here."

you didn't glance up from your game. "stoneheart."

"so cold," he said.

the bracelet has been yours for the last eight system months.

"you started it," you said, because he's never called you by your title.

he laughed. "i suppose i did."

at your gesture, the other players left the table. aventurine settled next to you. you dealt him in without a word.

he lost.

you eyed him over the rim of your drink. "you're off your game."

"am i?"

"seems like it."

"my apologies, then."

you watched him for a moment. his smile curled at the edges, something smug tucked up between his lips. it didn't reach his vivid eyes.

you sighed and unclasped the bracelet.

he pulled back as you reached for your wrist, his eyes sharp. "i lost, you know."

"yeah," you said. "now hold still."

he hesitated for a moment more, but then he let you put the bracelet on him. you clicked the clasp closed. he twisted his wrist, the facets of the sapphires catching the light, the ocean's reflection. your mother had carved them perfectly.

"don't lose it," you told him. "i'll win it back next time."

he studied you, his gaze slipping beneath your skin like a knife. then he smiled, carefully carefree.

"wanna bet?"

[sissylittlefeather]

If You Talk In Your Sleep

Chapter 6

A/N: Well goddamn, I've been a ghost. But I've had this chapter written and didn't even know it. Good news? This adds a chapter for my folks who want this to go on forever. Bad news? You have to wait longer for me to write the damn thing. Sorry I'm a basket case, y'all.

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, like always, no smut but we are dealing with heavy themes like abortion and Elvis's near insanity

Word count: 2.7k

“Get me a plane.”

******

Somewhere around 4am, Elvis gets tired of waiting for his men to find him a plane and a pilot. Every moment that passes is another minute that separates him from you and the baby. He knows he can't go to you in Vegas. Carl is still too much of a threat. The last thing he wants is to put you in harm's way by revealing the truth to your husband. He'll have to intercept you in Los Angeles and pray he gets there before the unthinkable happens. At 4:07am, he snatches a pair of keys and heads to the parking garage. Jerry and Red and Sonny follow close behind him, arguing and yelling.

“EP, you can't do this. You're not driving to Los Angeles on no sleep!” It's Sonny who tries first. Elvis rounds on him, his eyes wild and red-rimmed.

“You want me to sleep?! No. Fuck that.” He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. “I have to get to her before… I can't wait for a plane.”

“Then let me drive.” Jerry comes in with a more reasonable offer. Elvis looks at him for a second, considering. Then he shakes his head again.

“I need you here, man. If Carl realizes she's gone, I need you to make sure he doesn't come after her.” He swings the door of one of his Cadillacs open and slides into the driver's seat. “I'm goin’. Move.”

All three men hesitantly shift out of the way. They know better than to challenge him when he gets like this, and he's even more determined than they've ever seen him. He screeches out of the parking lot, headlights cutting bright paths in the darkness.

******

You sit on the plane, your knee bouncing as you nibble on your cuticle. Why won't this damn thing just take off already? Every second that passes is another second where you think about Elvis and what you're about to do. You don't want to do it. You'd give anything to be able to keep the child of the man you love. But he's Elvis Presley and a bastard child might be the end of everything he's worked for. Still, a picture of you and Elvis and your child in front of the fire on Christmas morning enters your mind and a tear makes its way down your cheek. You can't think about this. Not right now.

******

Elvis arrives in LA around 8:30 am and goes straight to the first abortion clinic he can find. He pulls on the door before it's even unlocked and then walks to the curb to wait for someone to open it. As he sits, he pulls a worn Polaroid from his pocket. He's brought it to show people, praying that'll help him find you. But he takes a moment in the cold gray light of the Los Angeles morning to really look at the photo.

He's instantly transported back to that night. You'd just spent the last couple of hours making love and you'd wrapped yourself in one of his shirts while he was in the bathroom. When he came out, the image of you on the bed, your hair messy and your cheeks flushed, had taken his breath away. He'd grabbed his camera, still naked himself, and started snapping photos. At first you protested. “No! Baby, I look awful!”

But he just shook his head and looked at you reverently. “You look like heaven, honey.”

He'd snapped a picture just after he'd said it, your smile warm and natural and full of love for him.

That's the photo he has with him now. The corners are worn and it's crumpled a little from being in his pocket. In the time since it was taken, he's held it more times than he can count. Held it, cried over it, prayed over it, kissed it and stroked it and begged it to be you in the flesh. He's holding the photo to his forehead and praying again when he hears the door open behind him.

“Can I help you, sir?” He jumps to his feet and the nurse gasps. “You're–”

“No. I'm not. Not today. Can you tell me if you have an appointment booked for someone?” He runs his hand through his hair again and the nurse whimpers.

“I-I really can't…” He watches her hesitation and smiles softly. He'd usually never use his looks to get what he wants, but right now, in this moment, he'll do just about anything to get to you.

“Aw, come on, honey. Can't ya help me out?” He does his best puppy dog eyes and she bites her bottom lip.

“Alright, fine. Come in. But don't tell anyone I did this for you.” He smirks.

“As long as you don't tell anyone I was here.” He follows her into the clinic to the appointment book, giving her your name. But you're not listed as having an appointment today. He drops into a chair and runs his hand over his face.

“There are other locations. She might be at one of those.” She speaks softly, sensing how upset he is. He stands up excitedly.

“Can you write down the addresses?” She nods and takes out a piece of paper to record the locations of the other clinics. In exchange, he signs a piece of paper for her and thanks her for her help, making his way out of the clinic.

There are three addresses on the paper he clutches in his hand. He looks at your photo again and prays.

“Please, God, let me find her in time.”

******

He pulls up in front of the last clinic at almost 11am. His hope is running dry and he's starting to think this was a fool’s errand. Los Angeles is a big city. You could be anywhere. Still, he's got one more address on his list before he gives up entirely. He takes a deep breath and heads inside. This clinic is in a nicer part of town, so the waiting room is behind a wall and he can't see whether you're there or not. He walks to the front desk, his shoulders slumped, defeated and exhausted. It's been over 24 hours since he's slept and it's starting to show.

“Oh my god, you're–!”

“No, honey, please. I'm beggin’ you. Not today.” She nods slowly, but holds her breath excitedly.

“Can I help you?” She whispers quietly. He sighs and pulls the worn picture from his pocket, sliding it across the reception desk, his hands trembling.

“Any chance this girl is here?” She picks up the photo cautiously, studying it. As she's looking, he hears a nurse on the other side of the wall calling your name. His heart absolutely stops and he snatches the photo, heading for the door to the waiting room.

“No! You can't just–!” But he completely ignores her and pushes the door open.

There you are, standing to go back with the nurse who has called your name. You turn when you hear the noise and then freeze.

“Elvis! What are you doing here?!” It comes out a little louder than you intended it to and he just stands there with his mouth half-open. All the things he'd thought of to say as he drove have suddenly left him.

“I-I didn't want you to be alone.” The weight of what he's said hits you like a ton of bricks. You are alone. Him being here doesn't change that. The annoyance settles between your shoulders and your whole body tenses up.

“Go home, Elvis. You don't belong here.” You look over at the nurse with the clipboard and take a small step towards her. He shakes his head, moving in between you and the door.

“You don't either, doll, but if this is what you want–”

“What I want?! WHAT I WANT?!” You laugh derisively and he's suddenly very glad that the waiting room is empty except for the two of you and the nurses. He moves closer to you, his hand drifting up to touch your cheek, but you scoff and turn away from him.

“Get out of here Elvis and let me do this. I don't have a choice.” You spit the last part at him like it's his fault even though it isn't. He sighs heavily, the defeat of you rejecting him hitting his chest and settling there. But he's not ready to give up yet. Not when he has this much to lose.

“Yes you do.” He takes another step closer. “I'm here, baby. And I'm not goin’ anywhere.”

He watches as your shoulders start to shake with sobs. It's killing him not to take you in his arms and hold you until you both forget about this.

You look up at the ceiling as the tears stream down your face and whisper. “Elvis, you're just making this harder. I'm trying to protect you.”

Now he does touch you. He walks around in front of you and gently grabs your shoulders.

“Honey, I don't need you to protect me. I'm a man. Protection is my job. And I failed. I let Carl hurt you and I'll never forgive myself for it. But this? You don't have to do this. Not for me.” You shake your head, still not ready to give in.

“He’ll kill you–”

“Let him try.” He pulls back and opens his jacket to reveal a shoulder holster with the butts of two guns showing. “I won't let him hurt you again. Not you and not our baby.”

“Our baby?” You say it quietly and for the first time there's the smallest flicker of hope in your voice. You let yourself entertain the possibility that there could be a baby, not just a problem to be solved but a living, breathing child, the product of your love for Elvis. Part you, part him, and fully and completely loved. He can see what you're thinking written all over your face as you look up at him and he decides to take a risk. His hand trembles a little, but he reaches out gently and places it on your stomach.

“Our baby.” You close your eyes and breathe deep. For a minute, your chest is tight as you consider the worst case scenario. And then there it is again. You. Elvis. Your child. And the fireplace crackling next to the Christmas tree as the sound of your laughter fills the room. Your eyes open and you look at the nurse. She gives you a soft smile and then you look down at Elvis's hand on your belly. You put both of your hands on top of his and look up into his blue eyes.

Can you do this? Can you flip your life upside down, start all over, for him? Will he do the same? All of a sudden there's a nagging fear that this whole thing will fall apart the second you're not in your little bubble with him. He's still Elvis Presley. He still has a wife and a career. Where do you fit in with all of that? Even if you can get away from Carl, there's no guarantee this is more than a passing fancy and you won't end up another single woman in Vegas with a baby at home, dancing at the Palomino to make ends meet.

And then you look at him, really look. His hair is everywhere, his clothes are disheveled, his face gaunt. And there's something in his eyes that you've never seen before: fear. He's absolutely terrified of losing you. He drove across the desert on no sleep just to find you and be here with you for this. His hand is shaking where you hold it against your abdomen, but he's not forceful, not coercive, just there. Waiting for you, loving you, being with you through it.

Every ounce of hesitation leaves your body when you stop thinking and just feel him and it becomes obvious that there's only one answer.

“Okay.”

It's a shaky whisper, a single word, barely anything at all. But it's enough for him. In one swift motion, he has you wrapped in his arms, his lips pressed to yours, body trembling and flush against you, and you melt into him, relaxing for the first time in weeks. You had almost forgotten what it was like to feel safe. Here in his arms, though, that's exactly what you are and your body knows it. For several minutes, there's silence as you embrace, his mouth moving against yours gently like he's afraid to break you. He holds you just tight enough, like he's terrified that if he lets go you'll slip away forever. You take a deep shuddering breath as he breaks the kiss, holding your face in his hands, and presses his forehead to yours.

“Let's go home.”

You look down and sigh, your heart aching. What is home?

“I don't have a home.” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. It's true. You've never been at home in Vegas because of Carl. In fact, you've never been at home anywhere except in Elvis's arms.

He tips your chin up to meet his eyes, red-rimmed, weary with exhaustion, but full of something undeniable.

“Oh, baby. Your home is with me. Wherever we are. That's home.” He doesn't wait for you to answer, doesn't need you to. Instead, he throws his arm around your waist and starts to head for the door, tucking you in next to him, shielding you, keeping you safe and protected like he should have since the beginning. This time, he's not letting you go. Never again.

Before he leaves, though, he turns to the nurses. “I don't like to threaten women, but you all understand why it's important that no one ever knows I was here. If I see a word of this anywhere, I'll know where to find you.”

The two younger nurses nod silently, but the older lady with the clipboard purses her lips. “That's fine. But you be good to her or we’ll know where to find you.”

He smiles and nods. “Yes ma'am.”

The sun is shining when you make it to the car and you notice the shadow on his face where he needs to shave and the redness of his eyes from the lack of sleep. He fumbles with the keys for a bit before you walk around to the driver’s side and take them from him.

“I'll drive.” Normally, he'd never let you, but today he's so mentally, emotionally, and physically drained that he just nods his head and walks to the other side of the car. Once you get settled behind the wheel, he puts his hand on your thigh.

“Thank you, baby.” You pick his hand up and kiss his palm.

“No, Elvis. Thank you.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. You wonder why he hasn't said anything when you see the tear slide down his cheek. He tries to clear his throat and then in a broken voice, whispers.

“Thought I'd lost you.” You turn on the seat and pull his head onto your shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist and his whole body breaks down. He can no longer control the emotions that he's been carrying since last night and they pour out of him as he sobs on your shoulder. The depth of his grief, his fear, his desperation become clear to you as he clings to you. And you just hold him there, stroking the back of his head and vowing to never underestimate his love for you ever again.

You stay like this in the parking lot for a while. Eventually, you realize he's quiet and his breathing is even. He's fallen asleep on you, like a child whose body just couldn't take any more. You rearrange him to be laying on the front seat with his head in your lap and thank God that he brought one of his Cadillacs with no center console or steering column in the way. Once you make sure he's as comfortable as he can be, his 6-foot frame shoved into the front seat of a car, you put your foot on the gas and make your way toward the eastbound highway and Vegas.

Home.

******

What happens when Carl finds out?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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