#I’ve been wanting to do this for months

[beloveds-embrace]

Neglected omega reader who got taken care of by someone else. Nikolai or Konig. The drama ✨✨

I hope i did KorTac justice, I’ve never written them before except König lol @nightunite pspspsps i have nikto crumbs 🙏🏻

Neglected omega reader p1 + p2

KorTac had always liked you.

From the very first moment they’d met you, they’d been drawn in- pulled by the quiet gravity of your presence and the sharp edge of your competence. You were quick on your feet, sharp with a knife, steady under pressure. Smart and resourceful in a way that demanded respect.

But more than that?

You had heart.

You’d been assigned to their unit during a joint operation months ago. Just a temporary deployment, only meant to last a few weeks, but it had been long enough for them to notice things- little things they hadn’t been able to forget.

The way you’d patched König up without hesitation after a mission went sideways, hands steady even as blood slicked your fingers. The way you’d shared your rations with Horangi after a supply drop came in light, brushing off his protests with a stubborn glare. The way you’d sat quietly beside Nikto on watch, not asking questions when he didn’t feel like talking but always ready to listen when he did.

They noticed you, and they liked what they saw.

Liked the way you worked. Liked the way you took care of your team without ever expecting anything in return. Liked the way you carried yourself- confident but kind. Fierce but soft.

But you weren’t theirs. Couldn’t be.

You belonged to 141, and KorTac had backed off, unwilling to overstep boundaries when you already had a pack waiting for you at home. They’d told themselves it was fine- they were fine- watching from a distance.

But then you came back.

Alone.

Hollow-eyed and sharp-edged, moving like a ghost through the halls of the base, and suddenly?

All bets were off.

The first time König sees you in such a state, it’s in the corridor outside the mess hall.

You don’t look up when he walks by, don’t even seem to notice the sheer weight of his presence as he slows, lingering just long enough to let his shadow stretch over you. You’re leaning against the wall like you’re trying to hold yourself together, arms wrapped tight around your middle, shoulders curled inward. Small. Smaller than he’s ever seen you look before. Smaller than he’d ever thought he’d ever see you.

His instincts itch- Omega, alone, hurting- but you’re not his. And still…

His eyes track the tired slump of your shoulders, the way your clothes hang loose, like you’ve been skipping meals. He scents the air. Picks up the faded traces of peach and rose, but there’s something sour underneath- bitter and wrong, like spoiled fruit. König’s stomach twists.

It’s the scent of neglect.

You should never have looked like this. You should have never smelled like this.

Not you. Not the Omega who had once dragged him out of the line of fire without hesitation, barking orders and holding the line until reinforcements arrived. Not the Omega who had once laughed with him under a tin roof during a monsoon, eyes bright.

The smell lingers after he walks away, clinging to the back of his throat like smoke. But it’s the emptiness of it- the hollowness- that keeps him awake that night, staring at the ceiling and wondering which one of those 141 bastards let their Omega rot like this.

The next time König sees you, it’s in the armory.

You’re cataloging weapons, checking and re-checking the tags with mechanical precision, but your hands shake when you reach for the next one. Just a little. Just enough for him to notice.

König moves closer. Quiet, but not too quiet- he doesn’t want to startle you. You don’t look up until his shadow stretches over your workbench, and when you do, the look in your eyes hits him like a gut-punch.

Flat. Guarded. Resigned.

Like you’re expecting him to scold you.

König’s heart cracks wide open. He grips the edge of the table just to keep from reaching out.

“Doing good work.” He says softly, and you just blink.

It’s such a small thing- barely even a compliment- but your throat bobs like you’re swallowing something down. Then you duck your head and go back to your task, not looking at him again.

But you don’t flinch.

Not this time.

Nikto is next, and he doesn’t hesitate.

He remembers you. Remembers the way you’d stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the rain, eyes scanning the horizon with sharp focus as you both waited for the enemy to make their move.

You hadn’t been scared. Not even a little.

And now?

He catches you outside the rec room, sitting on the stairs with your knees drawn up to your chest. You don’t even react when he approaches, just keep staring at the floor like it might swallow you whole.

Now, you look like you’re drowning.

So Nikto doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t say anything. Just crouches down beside you and sets a cup of coffee at your feet before walking away.

You stare at it for almost five minutes before finally picking it up.

The next morning, he does it again. Same cup. Same coffee. Same wordless offering.

It becomes a routine- something quiet and steady, something you can rely on when everything else feels too heavy.

And then there’s Horangi, who pushes the hardest.

He pushes, because he knows you can take it.

You had before- back when you’d yelled at him for ignoring orders and running off alone, eyes blazing as you shoved him back toward the evac point. He’d liked your fire back then, liked the way you didn’t back down even when he towered over you.

But now?

Now your fire’s gone out, and there’s only one group to blame.

So Horangi pushes. Tests the waters, pokes at the edges, trying to find the spark he knows is still there. He is the loudest of the three, sharp and quick with his words, but he also knows when to keep them soft. He finds you cleaning your gear one night and sits down beside you without asking.

“You missed dinner.” He says casually, pulling out a protein bar and tossing it onto your lap. Pushing past the bubble you’ve wrapped around yourself, yet not being overbearing or too much.

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not your Alpha,” he says with a shrug. “You don’t have to listen to me.”

You close your mouth. Look down at the protein bar. Then, without a word, you tear it open and take a bite.

Horangi grins. And just like that, he’s in.

And when you finally- finally- smile at one of his jokes?

He knows he’s got you.

141 starts noticing the shift almost immediately. Soap catches König lingering near you in the gym, eyes following the curve of your spine as you stretch, and something inside him snaps.

Ghost sees Nikto brush his fingers against yours when he hands you something, and his jaw clenches so tight he can hear his teeth grind.

Price overhears Horangi making you laugh- a real, honest-to-God laugh, a sound he can’t hear any longer even in his dreams- and has to excuse himself before he says something he can’t take back.

It gets worse when your scent starts to change; the bitterness fades first, then the sourness.

The first time Price catches a hint of warmth blooming underneath, it stops him dead in his tracks.

Because it isn’t for him. It isn’t for them.

It’s even worse to know that they drove you to it, and have no one to blame but themselves.

They let you fall through the cracks. Let the weight of their own issues and distractions leave you stranded in the dark, too far away for them to pull you back when they finally noticed you were gone.

And now? Now KorTac is picking up the pieces, with no hesitation.

König steadies you. Makes sure you eat, makes sure you rest, makes sure you feel safe even when the world outside is crumbling. Doesn’t push you away when you, big hand lingering on the curve of your spine until his scent is left there.

Nikto grounds you. Offers quiet comfort without demands, without expectations. Makes sure you know he’s there, always there, steady and unshakable. A lighthouse in the stormy seas, the hand that pulls you out of the swirling ocean.

Horangi pushes and pushes. Draws out smiles and laughter, reminds you what it feels like to be wanted. Finds excuses to bump shoulders or brush against you when you pass, just to see if you’ll let him.

And you do. You let all of them, slowly greeting them with the quietest little purr (cat activation noise).

Because it’s easier to be wanted by them than it is to be unwanted by your own pack.

And slowly- so slowly it hurts- you start to come back to life; your scent changes. Softens. Warms. The bitterness fades and the sourness disappears.

And all they can do is only watch as König takes the space they abandoned. As Nikto feeds the hunger they ignored. As Horangi brings back the fire they let burn out.

And they can’t do a damn thing about it.

Because the truth is- KorTac wanted you from the start, and now that they’ve got you?

They’re never letting go.

[thanosscross]

hiii :)) i’ve been thinking abt this for a long time… okay, so, imagine thanos and reader know eachother before the games, like, they’re exes in squid game, and so, he flirts and all, protects her and she always is in his team because he wants so.. he swears reader is like a harmless bunny in all of this game. so.. they get back together, in mingle, when she sees thanos kicking out a guy from their team and betraying se-mi, she gets scared that thanos may kick her out or betray her, when they say two, she is pretty much expecting thanos to send her to find another person, but he does not, he runs with her.. but now a player pushes reader and like because they were almost at a door thanos did not have time to react and boom. the door closes and he is not with reader. he may be high, but, when he realizes, the effects wear out because oh boy he was screaming at trying to open the door while watching reader in that weird square in the door.. and when the timer reaches to zero… boom, you dont have to specify that she dies and can just end the fic when the door closes!! 🩷🩷 thanks for even reading this lame request lol

Harmless- Choi Su-Bong/ Thanos x reader

Summary: After a rough breakup you were forced to be on Thanos's team, only to be forced right back off during Mingle.

warnings: Your usual squid game gore

You and Su-bong were close, you always had been even in high school, it was the typical bad boy smart girl relationship for you, He was constantly getting into fights and trouble, doing drugs and running around doing underground rap battles. You were quite the opposite, just trying to keep your head down, finish school, and get away from everything your sorry hometown had to offer, until Su-bong changed everything for you.

Standing in your shared apartment you raised your eyebrows "You want me to what?.." You asked in shock "Come on! I got everything we need!" He groaned throwing his head back "Listen, you know you want to help me, beauty flower" Su-bong smirked placing his hands on your sides "Please?"

That's how you ended up dying his hair and giving him a neck tattoo in just twenty four hours. He laid face down on your shared dining room table (Him claiming it'd be easier for you) as you held the tattoo gun nervously "A-Are you sure, Su-bong?..What if I like..ruin your body?" You asked, you were both too high for this, and you could tell by the way the tattoo gun felt like nothing in your hand even though it was weighing it down. "Just do it, baby" He smirked "It's just some lines, you've done more than just two" He teased, you glared smacking his back "Shut up!" You scoffed before shaking your head starting to push the needles into his skin, squealing as he winced gripping your thigh "Did I hurt you?!" You gasped leaning closer to examine the small black line at the base of his hairline. "No! no, just keep goin" He grunted, you continued for what seemed like a couple hours, until you realized the sun was up and you had spent all night and half the morning finishing his tattoo.

Whenever you finished you watched him stand proudly "Hell yea, how's it look baby?" He asked trying to see his back in the mirror, failing miserably "Looks amazing" You smiled, giggling as he spun you around planting a sloppy kiss onto your lips.

That would be the last time you saw Su-bong and had any pleasant feelings towards him, after that, he changed, always screaming about debt and how he was going to kill some guy from youtube, you brushed everything off until you caught him at a club with another bitch sitting practically on his lap, he didn't even deny it either, just saying in his stupid voice 'nobody can tie down the greatness of thanos' You left him almost immediately after that situation, choosing to move on from that phase of your life, learning rather quickly, his debt wasn't just his, it was yours aswell.

Four months. Four months of thinking you were free of that asshole, until you heard a familiar voice complaining about limited edition shoes, you immediately darted in the other direction, successful in avoiding your asshole of an ex, until the first game. "Senoritaa..." You heard his sing song voice behind you while you were stood frozen, trying not to focus on the dead body laying right next to you a few feet to the right. "Where have you been!? I've been looking everywhere!" He cried out, the creepy doll head turning to face the tree again, sending you in a soft sprint forward "Beauty flower!" He shouted out again, you tried your best to ignore him, almost getting away until you passed the finish line and his hand grabbed your wrist tightly.

As you turned to face to him, you could see he was clearly high "I don't want anything to do with you, Su-bong" You snapped, he just pouted "Beauty flower please!" He cried out, you just clenched your fists, trying your best to keep yourself from losing your cool in front of you. He stayed on you for the rest of the night, even sending another player to speak with you about him. The next game, he didn't really give you a choice, quickly snatching you away from the mingling crowd before someone could claim you to their team "Stop it! I don't wanna be on a team with you!" You huffed, trying to fight him and his friend off "You need a team" He snapped, stopping so he could stand in front of you and make eye contact "Not if it has you on it" You growled, he sighed continuing to pull you. "You can't make it here, y/n you'd yell at me for killing bugs outside!" He shouted, you just rolled your eyes, of course he'd think you couldn't do it. "Because they were innocent babies, you are an entitled dick!" you argued, Thanos just rolled his eyes leading you over with him to sit down with the others "These people are crazy, beauty flower! You need someone there for you!" He shouted, you were starting to grow annoyed with his high ass, letting him drag you around with him, letting him shove you to the far end where you were only attached to him.

Walking into the main room afterwards with your team, Thanos shouted and cheered walking to his bunk, his hand never leaving your wrist, you tried to pull away as he sat down but he just gave you the same look he used to whenever you would get into an argument and try to leave the room. You huffed, trying to stand your ground, but your heart was still craving him, so instead you offered him a soft smile, sitting down next to him, and slowly sliding your wrist up, to where you were holding his hand now instead, neither of you said anything, instead just exchanging looks, Su-bong offering you a shocked but scared look, while you just offered him a sympathetic but stern look. He continued on talking to his friend, asking everybody their names and how old they were. You were stuck in your own thoughts to really pay attention though, you couldn't believe yourself, here you were sitting next to Thanos like a dumbass love sick idiot all fucking over again.

Whenever the lights cut out, you slowly made your way to your bed, hoping the conversation Thanos was having would keep him distracted enough. You managed to get to your bunk and start to doze off whenever you felt a warm body press against your back "Why'd you sneak off without me, beauty flower?" Su-bong asked softly, wrapping his arm around you "I didn't sneak off. I went to bed" You stated, your tone coming off a little harsh "Why'd you leave me?...before..this" He asked after a moment "Su-bong.." You warned, giving him a chance to retreat on the subject before you got angry, but he just continued "I-I got home..and you weren't there.." he whispered, even with his low whisper, you could still hear his voice breaking, his hand tightening in your jacket "I-I got scared.."He admitted, you sighed keeping your back to him "Su-bong. You had another woman basically sitting on your lap, your hands were all over her...and you didn't even deny it..you said that I couldn't tie down your greatness" It still hurt even thinking about his words let alone saying them aloud, it was completely different, saying it felt like you were confirming it. You both sat in silence for what felt like hours, Su-bong just pulling you back into a hug tightly "I never meant to hurt you, Beauty flower" He whispered sadly, now you decided to turn around, letting him pull you as close as he could without being ontop of him. "I am so sorry" He repeated, you never spoke though, choosing to savor the moment as you fell asleep.

Walking into the giant room with a carousel in the middle, made you feel a different type of anxiety, as the loud speaker explained the rules, you watched Nam-Gyu and Su-bong both take a pill. You chose to stand closer to Se-Mi and Min-Su, all of you exchanging looks before the spinning platform stopped "Four players" The speaker announced, Su-bong and his friend rushed over to the three of you starting to shout at Se-Mi and Min-su "Rock paper scissors! Winner comes with us!" It became a chant as you nervously watched the two, feeling your hear sink seeing Min-su form scissors with his hand, before Nam-Gyu grabbed his wrist, Su-bong grabbing yours, both of them dragging you away from Se-mi. You fought against his grip as he shut the door and it locked, you shoved Su-bong to the side looking out of the window, desperately trying to find your new friend anywhere. You ex just grabbed your arms pulling you away "Don't look, someone so beautiful and sweet as you, doesn't need to see that" He said, you could tell by his tone he was trying to flirt with you, you just shrugged his hands off of you, shooting all the men in the room a glare. As soon as the door unlocked you rushed out "Se-Mi!?" You yelled looking around, sighing in relief running a few doors down to hug your friend as she emerged from the room, you chose to stay by her the next round, or at least tried to, Su-bong just kept sending Nam-gyu after you to remind you that you were on Thanos's team, which meant stay with him. as the speaker called out five players you were relieved, watching as everybody funneled into a room

You couldn't shake the feeling you had though, that at the next second, he'd ditch you just like he did Se-mi. As the round continued, you didn't even realize, Thanos had moved closer to you and the others, the platform stopped and the speaker called out "Three players" You looked at Thanos, just in time to catch him glance between you and another boy, thanos had basically kidnapped into his team "Gyeong-Su! You're out!" He yelled before delivering a harsh kick to his chest sending him falling back, before you could react, Thanos was already dragging you into the room.

You were in a trance walking back and spinning on the platform, stuck on the fact that this round, Su-bong might actually leave you for dead, as the platform stopped your heart dropped "Two players" The speaker called, your heart started to race as you stayed in your place, maybe if you didn't act like you were going, you wouldn't have to deal with the rejection "Beauty flower! Come on!" He shouted grabbing your hand pulling you towards the room, maybe you were wrong, maybe Su-bong had changed, before you could say anything the air was knocked out of you, watching a blur of color run past you slamming Su-bong into the room shutting the door.

Su-bong screamed loudly, rushing to the door desperately trying to break it open "No! Please! Five more seconds!" He screamed out of the small window in the door, trying to break it open further to see if he could see you, but you weren't there anymore. His screams only amplified as the timer dinged and rounds of gunshots were heard echoing off of the walls outside. His fist slammed against the wall, slowly turning around to look behind him "You" He growled looking at the player who stood there terrified.

Gasping the doors opened, letting you all out, ready to play another round.

[abswife]

best friend

you and your best friend ellie are spending the day goofing off like usual, but things take a turn when a tickle fight goes a little too far.

hello! i know it's been literal months since I've posted, and to that i have to say... woops! anyway, here's something i threw together in a moment of creative inspiration involving nerdy loser ellie! this might suck so let me know if it's not hot garbage and you want a part 2

cw// sesbian lex, top!ellie, bottom!reader, fingering, cunnilingus, so fluffy, like you might get a toothache this is so sweet, ellie being a big loser and sweetheart, reader is only described as having hair and is afab

word count- 3k

mdni i swear to god

“No, I’m telling you- a T-rex is nothing compared to a pterodactyl!” Ellie insisted, lightly nudging your leg with her sock-clad toes. You giggled at her, amused by her persistence to get her point across. But, despite her obvious knowledge in this particular field, you felt the need to be contrary. You shift back a little on her bed, leaning against the headboard.

“Mmm, I don’t know Els… a T-rex is pretty big.” You hummed, plastering a skeptical look on your face. She scoffed, offended by your audacity to doubt her.

“Well yeah, but they can’t fly! They have little nub arms, like, they couldn’t even grab you!” She curled her arms in front of her, making little swiping motions with them. “See?”

You couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter at her- frankly- spot-on impression. You shoved her, making her topple back, almost falling off of her side of the bed entirely. She let out a little yelp, catching herself just on the edge. She spun back around with a mock look of shock.

“What? You didn’t like my impression? I’ll have you know I’ve been told no one can do a T-rex like me!” She shouted, clambering up onto her knees. Using the height advantage, she reached down to your ribcage to begin an assault of tickles. You screeched and tried to make a grab at her hands but she scrambled them around your torso, making it hard to get a grip.

“Els! Quit it!” You managed to say through your uncontrollable laughter. You thrashed, but she trapped your legs between her knees. A shit-eating grin adorned her freckled face as she continued her attack. You could feel your face getting hot from exertion but you refused to give in.

Finally, you managed to grab her wrists well enough to pry them from your body, immediately gulping down air while you knew you still could. However, Ellie quickly twisted her wrists from your grasp and grabbed onto yours instead, pinning them against the pillows next to your head. Instantly, you felt a shift in energy. Ellie’s smile dropped slightly as she stilled, eyes locked on yours. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with the way she was 1. still on top of you, and 2. looking at you like that.

You and Ellie had been friends for as long as you could remember. You were next door neighbors and, being two girls the same age, you quickly became each other’s besties. Even when Ellie and her dad, Joel, moved across town in middle school you stayed close. You were constantly at her house, it was practically your second home. Ellie was your favorite person in the world. She also happened to be your longtime crush. Ever since the 7th grade, when she started getting taller and grew into her features. You both knew you each like girls, but Ellie always had a crush on some other girl at your school. You didn’t want to ruin the relationship you had with your best friend by telling her you liked her when she obviously didn’t like you back. So anytime your hug lingered a little too long, or you accidentally brushed her arm or leg, you’d get tense and nervous.

You felt your face heat up more, the feeling worsening when you felt her breath fan across your face. Oh shit, was she getting closer? Your gaze flicked down to her lips, now merely centimeters from yours. When you looked back up to her eyes, she was staring at your lips. You let out a stuttering exhale, clenching your bound hands into fists. 

“Els…” You breathed out, and her eyes snapped back up to yours. You pulled one of your hands free from her now slacked grip and rested it on her cheek. She whispered your name and once again briefly looked down to your lips. You slid your hand around to the back of her neck and pulled her down towards you. You watched her eyes slide shut, and then did the same right as your mouths met.

Her lips were slightly chapped, but her mouth was warm and soft against yours. You could feel her hand that still held your wrist tighten its grip, and you scraped your nails across her hairline. She pulled back for a moment to change her angle so she could kiss you deeper and you hummed, enjoying the way her mouth pressed fully against yours. She gave an experimental lick into the crease of your lips and your breath shuddered. You felt her finally release her hold on your other wrist to instead hold your waist, her pinky brushing just under your t-shirt. You reached your arm around her back, tugging her body closer to yours. You both let out a soft moan at the feeling of your bodies aligning as her hips slotted between your parted thighs.

She drew her face back and you opened your eyes. She looked down at you and lightly brushed stray hair on your temple away. She leaned back down to kiss the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw, and onward along the expanse of your neck. You tipped your chin back, encouraging her to keep going. Her plush lips left wet kisses across your throat, occasionally nipping at the skin and soothing the sting with her tongue. She sucked at a patch of skin below your ear and you bucked your hips up involuntarily. The hand that held your waist slid lower to push your shirt up slightly.

  She paused her ministrations to ask, “Is this okay?” You quickly nodded and tugged her back down into a kiss, needing to feel her lips on you. You felt her hand under your shirt slowly creep up higher until it rested on your ribs, just under your breast. You slid your hand up to fully palm the back of her head and took hold of her hair. A groan slipped out of her and you squeezed her hips between your thighs at the sound.

Ellie muttered out a curse as she once again parted from you. “Can I take this off? Please?” She asked, fumbling with the hem of your shirt, desperation leaking into her tone. You nodded again, but she shook her head and leaned an inch closer. “No, need you to say it.”

You furrowed your brows and pouted, but quickly gave in. “Yes, take it off. Yours too.” You said, bunching the fabric of her own shirt in your fist. The corner of her lips turned up at your request and she leaned back down to give you a peck before sitting back on her haunches. She pulled your shirt up and you leaned forward, putting your arms above your head to make it easier for her. 

As soon as your head and arms were freed from the fabric, you leaned back down and expected her to immediately remove hers. However, she sat with the shirt still in her grip, staring at your bare chest. You blushed, but you weren’t embarrassed. You could tell from the look on her face she liked what she saw. You grabbed her shirt and tugged on it. “C’mon…” You muttered, eager to get your own view. Without taking her eyes away from where they were fixated, Ellie swiftly pulled the garment up and over her head, exposing her small breasts. You mimicked her actions, staring unabashedly at her pink nipples.

Finally, she leaned back down to slide a calloused hand up your waist until she palmed your tit. She bit her lip and couldn’t seem to decide on whether to watch her own hands play with your tits, or watch your expressions. She pinched a nipple between her fingers and rolled, and your breath hitched at the feeling, biting your own lip. “God…” She muttered. She couldn’t hold herself back from kissing you again, and you held her face to keep her there. You whimpered into her mouth as she continued to toy with your nipples, and slid your hands down to do the same. You felt her breath catch when you pressed your thumbs down flat against them and flicked down. You both continued like that for a while, kissing and moaning into each other’s mouths as you played with the other’s breasts. 

A particularly harsh pinch had you tossing your head back and bucking your hips up. This spurred her to reattach herself to your neck and grind down against you, earning her a high pitched noise from you. Ellie began her descent down your body, trailing her lips along your chest and the valley between your breasts. She made a quick detour to flick a nipple with her tongue, then suck it into her hot mouth. You arched your back, chasing the feeling as she continued her journey. Her hands gripped your hips as she sucked marks into your stomach. Your hands made their way into her hair, pushing it back from her face to see her better. Her fingers curled into the waistband of your sweats, just barely inching them down to plant kisses closer to your navel. You squirmed at the sensation, tightening your grip on her auburn locks.

Her fern green eyes looked up into yours, lips hovering no more than a couple inches from the skin of your hips. “You want these off?” She asked, voice raspy and dripping with lust. You whispered a soft ‘yes’, not trusting your voice enough to try for anything more. Seemingly satisfied, she nipped at your hips once more before sliding down farther to give herself room to fully remove your pants. She slowly tugged your sweatpants and underwear down at once before becoming impatient halfway through and practically ripping them the rest of the way off, slinging them off to the side. 

You suddenly felt a wave of self consciousness and clamped your knees together before she could turn back to you. When she did, she frowned slightly. She planted her hands on your ankles and looked up to your face. “Baby,” She started, making your heart jump at the pet name, “lemme see.” You felt blood rush both up to your face and downward, and you wiped your sweaty palms onto the sheets below you. Her hands skated up your calves, coming to rest just below your kneecaps as she sat up higher. She pressed messy kisses to your knees, pushing her thumbs into the insides, trying to encourage you to open up. Despite your- admittedly misplaced- sudden insecurity, you slowly parted your legs, displaying your whole body for her eyes to feast on. And feast they did.

Another curse slipped from her peachy lips, gaze locked on your wet pussy. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Ellie said, her eyes briefly flicking up to your face. She seemed to take herself by surprise, and a deep blush spread up from her pale chest. Her reaction was oddly adorable, and you breathed out a small giggle. That must have reassured her, as a shy smile appeared back on her face. 

You reached your hand out towards her and curled your fingers in. “C’mere.” You said. Obediently, she crawled her way back up your naked body and let herself be pulled into a passionate kiss. Your fingers brushed her jaw, feeling the ends of her hair tickle your knuckles. She broke the kiss, but couldn’t stop herself from giving you one more peck, and then one to your cheek. “Will you take your pants off too? I don’t want to be the only one naked.” You requested, thumbs circling the apples of her cheeks. Her smile turned impish, and she twisted her head to press her lips to your palm. 

“I can’t believe it. The past ten minutes you’ve been trying to get into my pants?” She jokingly questioned, making you laugh loudly. 

“Believe it or not I have.” You answered, sliding a hand down to give her hard nipple a pinch. She gasped, holding a hand to her chest.

“Well, you could have told me!” Ellie exclaimed, then leaned her head down to litter your chest with kisses. Still softly laughing, you glided your hands up and down her back until she sat back. She twisted her body around to hook her thumbs into her pants and slide them down her legs, her underwear going along with them. As she stood back on her knees to face you again, you caught a glimpse of the patch of red hair covering her mound before she leaned back over you to continue worshipping your body with her mouth. 

Ellie quickly made her way back to her previous stopping point, the stretch of skin right above your navel. She leaned back slightly and brought a hand up, gently pushing your thigh further out to give herself more room. She admired your glistening folds, and slid a single finger right down the middle, collecting your essence. You bit your lip, the anticipation driving you crazy. She finally pressed her thumb against the underside of your clit, rubbing up and down gently. The stimulation made your thigh twitch and your breath catch. Taking notice of this reaction, Ellie pressed down harder, making firm circles. This made your breathing pick up, and you reached a hand up to palm at your breast, needing something to focus on other than her unintentional teasing. 

She used her index and middle finger to part your lips, spreading you out for her. Reaching her head down, she licked a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit. You breathed out her name, sweat beginning to form on your hairline. She shushed you gently in consolation just before diving back into you, tongue exploring. She suctioned your clit into her mouth while flicking it with her wet muscle, and you cried out. You were beginning to wonder if she had actually done this before and just never told you.

Your wondering was cut off when she used the two fingers she had been using to open you up to swirl broad circles over your bud and locked her gaze on you. “Can I finger you?” She asked almost too casually, too caught up in her excitement to be nervous. The eager look on her face almost made you want to deny her, but you were too needy yourself.

“Go ‘head Els.” You said. She grinned and messily smacked a kiss on your aching clit, running her fingers through more of your wetness. Slowly, she inserted her middle finger up to the knuckle, then pulled back until just the pad remained inside. The foreign feeling made you furrow your brows, both out of frustration and pleasure. She found a rhythm quickly and her eyes locked onto the sight of her lazily pumping in and out. Experimentally, she curled her finger upwards towards your front. This action had you clenching down, a whimper being pulled from your throat. Her emerald irises snapped up to your face, noticing how her actions affected you. 

As she pressed a second finger in alongside the first, she bent down to keep licking you. The sensation was immediately overwhelming, and one of your hands shot down to grab onto her short hair. Once again, she curled her fingers up just as they bottomed out inside you and your hips jumped from the bed. Your brain told you the feeling was too much, but your body craved more. She found her rhythm again, slightly faster now. Her tongue laved over your bud, spreading your slick as it leaked from your hole. She hummed, and the vibrations caused your moans to increase in pitch. “Fuck! Like that- ah!” You cried out, encouraging her to continue exactly as she was. Thankfully, Ellie listened, pace never faltering as she fucked her fingers deep inside of you.

You could feel the warmth building up in your belly and knew you would cum soon. Fearing she would suddenly pull away or slow down, your grip on her hair tightened and you pulled her mouth flush to your pussy. Ellie moaned and let herself be shoved into you, opting to suck on your clit rather than lick. Your breath caught in your throat, back arching in a harsh curve as you felt your orgasm rapidly approach. Ellie dug her nails into the thigh she held as they began to shake around her head.

You let out one last pitchy whine as your high crashed over you. Your thighs squished her cheeks as they attempted to close, but she used both of her hands to push them back open, holding your hips down at the same time. Her mouth continued its assault, head moving side to side as she worked you through your orgasm. The feeling quickly became overwhelming, and your palm pushed against her forehead. “Els… too much…” You croaked out. She finally broke contact with your glossy pussy, opting instead to stare at the way your hole clenched around nothing. 

“Fuck baby…” Ellie muttered, reaching up to run a thumb through your wetness, accidentally brushing your sensitive bud and making you jump. Panting, you grabbed her hand and pulled it up, wanting her to come up and kiss you. She seemed to understand this and made a slow journey back to you, leaving searing kisses across your body on the way. Once you were finally face to face you pulled her down for a proper smooch, hands cradling each side of her face. She brushed your hair back from your sweaty face as you tried to peck her on each of her freckles. She hummed a laugh and captured your lips in another soft kiss before pulling back and resting her head beside yours, nose nuzzling into your pulse point. You let out a heavy sigh, letting the aftershocks wrack through you as you rubbed her back.

“I love you.” She said, pressing her lips to your earlobe. 

You smiled and tugged her hair to look her in the eyes. “I love you too.” You responded, thumbing her pouty bottom lip. She kissed your thumb, and held your face in one of her hands. 

Her breath shuddered as your hand slithered down her torso, fingertips playing with the curly hair just above her pussy. “Your turn?”

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE scenario : drunk calling ex!riize ༉‧₊˚.

req: hello sorry for another rq but what about ex!riize and you're drunk call him.. can i be 🪐 anon too pls

note: sure! thank you for your request ♥

pairing: ex!riize x reader— masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

“y/n? Why are you calling me?”

“I just… I saw this otter plushie on my way home, and it reminded me so much of you.”

After dinner with your friends, you drank a bit too much, and seeing that plushie made you think of your ex, Shotaro. You couldn’t help but call him, missing him deeply. Though you had separated due to the distance, both of you still harbored feelings for each other. Surprised by your call, he answered immediately, letting out a small laugh when he realized you were drunk.

“Are you walking home alone? Don’t hang up, I’ll talk to you until you get there… So, tell me, what was the otter like?”

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

“Why are you calling me now, y/n?”

“Do you ever think about me, Eunseok?”

Eunseok didn’t expect your call late at night, much less for your first words in months to be that. He stayed silent for a few moments before letting out a sigh.

“Have you been drinking, y/n?”

“Just… answer my question…” From the tone of your voice, he knew you were drunk.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, y/n. We’re not talking about this if you won’t even remember it when you wake up.”

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

“Huh? Sungchan? Why did you call me?”

“You’re the one who called me, yn…”

After your office dinner, you had a little too much to drink and accidentally called Sungchan. When he answered and heard your voice, he couldn’t help but laugh at how confused you sounded.

“It was me…? Sorry, I meant to call a taxi…” you said, about to hang up before he spoke again.

“Where are you, y/n? Have you been drinking?”

Even though it had been months since you broke up, Sungchan still cared for you deeply. He decided to stay on the phone to make sure you got home safely.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

“Mgh…?”

Wonbin was already asleep when you called, his voice groggy as he answered. You had just gotten home from a party, but for some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Memories of all the sweet moments you shared flooded your mind.

“I miss coming home and sleeping next to you…”

“Huh, y/n? Why are you calling so late?”

“I miss you, Wonbin… Don’t you miss me? Don’t you miss anything about me?”

“Ah… you’re drunk, aren’t you? I do miss you, y/n, but… this isn’t the time to talk about it.”

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

“y/n? Is something wrong?”

After drinking with your friends at a bar, memories of how things ended with Seunghan overwhelmed you. You hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye, and it still haunted you. Seeing your call, he answered, concerned, it wasn’t like you to call so late. But hearing your voice, he quickly realized what was going on.

“I’m so sorry, Seunghan… I’m sorry for leaving like that, for how I treated you, and… I hope someday you can forgive me, you know? I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or what, but I miss you so much right now…”

“You don’t need to apologize, y/n… Are you okay? Are you with anyone? I can come pick you up…”

⭑.ᐟ sohee

“Do you know how much I sacrificed for you? And you haven’t even apologized yet…”

The last thing Sohee expected that day was a call from you, let alone a drunken, angry one. Although he didn’t like the way you were speaking to him, he also didn’t want to argue with you in that state.

“I’m not going to talk to you about this right now, y/n. I already explained why we broke up… Are you home? Please go to bed. If you want, I’ll call you tomorrow, but don’t do this now.”

⭑.ᐟ anton

“y/n, what…?”

“Anton? I didn’t know who else to call… I’ve been drinking, and I started feeling sick on my way home… I think I’m near your place, but I don’t know…”

You thought you could get home without a taxi after a party, but you started feeling dizzy and lost along the way. Even though Anton was your ex, you knew he’d always answer, so you called him for help. Hearing your voice, Anton immediately grew nervous, worrying about you and getting ready to find you. He didn’t hold any grudges against you, if anything, he still hadn’t completely gotten over you. Without hesitation, he went out to help.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[formula-ghost]

Supermodel (FC43 x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: Franco can’t understand how you, the love of his life, could ever feel insecure—so he goes above and beyond to show you (and the world) how beautiful he thinks his girlfriend is. This can be read within the RYD universe or as a stand alone one shot!

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI. Teasing, light dom reader/ sub Franco at the beginning dom Franco at the end, body dysmorphia/reader insecurity, worship, mirror sex, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk/mentions of AFAB anatomy (reader has a vagina), use of the word whore, protected sex. Use of YN. Also the song doesn’t match the vibe of the story but I wanted to stick with the Måneskin theme lol.  

A/N: Some more Franco content! I need some more time with the Oscar fic, plus I’ll be returning to regular life since the holidays are over soon, so I figured I’d tide you over with a spicy Franco one shot. Since (in my head at least) this is set in the RYD universe, I’ve included the same tag list, and I hope you all enjoy it!

TAGLIST:  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse  @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg  @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle

Yeah, she’s a master, my compliments

If you wanna love her, just deal with that

She’ll never love you more than money and cigarettes

Every night’s a heartbreak

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Franco panted, his eyes trailing your curves up and down just as his fist squeezed tightly over the growing bulge in his pants. 

Your cheeks were flushed red, almost as dark as the wine-colored matching lingerie set you now wore before him, leaving little to the imagination. You couldn’t help it—no matter how long you’d been with the Argentine, you still got bashful when he complimented you. 

“I hope you know I mean it,” he began, leaving his spot on the bed to advance toward you. He gently brushed your hair away and kissed the top of your shoulder, looking up at you with his deceptively innocent doe eyes. “You’re the most perfect thing in the world to me.”

You smiled, blissful at the feeling of his touch. “It’s easy to say that when I’m standing in front of you in my new set.”

“I love you,” he said, as if it was as simple as telling the time. “So much. More than words can say. And I want you to remember that when you’re mad at me after I rip this off of you.”

He grabbed the strap of your bra, and you giggled, “You better not!” You playfully pushed him back on the bed. “No touching, not yet. Be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, obedient to only you. The grip you had on him was intoxicating. 

You climbed up on the bed, straddling him, running your featherlight fingertips up and down his arms and chest. 

“Mi amor,” he exhaled, “you are cruel to me.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, sarcastic yet seductive.

“Don’t you dare.”

You laughed. If he thought a bit of teasing was cruel, he would not be having fun for the rest of the night.

But, of course, he loved nothing more than ravishing your body, evident by his labored breath, laying next to you when the deed was finished. He stared at you with awe, your eyes still closed. He listened as you tried to catch your breath, placing gentle kisses on the top of your arm and into your shoulder.

You just let out a little noise in response, feeling safe and comforted by his touch. When you two were alone, he always needed to touch you in some way, much to your dismay during the sweltering hot months of summer. 

His kisses traced their way up to your neck, chin, and finally to your cheek, where he gently moved your hair out of your face to gaze on the gorgeous image of your face. 

“I wish there were better words in English to explain how I feel about you,” he said, his voice low and genuine. “Something stronger than I love you. Something more than just beautiful.” 

“You know I love it when you speak to me in Spanish,” you said, letting your eyelids flutter open to meet his gaze, only inches from your own.

“Yes, but I want you to understand what I mean.” He smiled softly. 

“My Spanish is getting better.”

“It is, you’re doing great,” he joked, nuzzling his nose into your neck, leaving you in a fit of giggles. “You’ll be talking circles around me in no time.”

“I wish. You’re fluent in yapenese,” you joked. You playfully mocked his voice, “Mi amor, you are so beautiful, the light of my life—” 

“Oh hush,” he said, smiling ear to ear. “You love it.”

“I do.”

“And it’s true.” He cupped your face, bringing you into a sweet embrace with a gentle kiss. “Join me in the shower?” 

“In a minute,” you answered, as he got up from the bed and started the warm water. After a few more moments of rest, you got up, picking up the discarded items of clothing that now dotted the floor, thrown aside in the heat of the passionate moment. 

You crossed the room to open the bureau and grab a fresh set of pajamas, before you caught sight of your reflection in the floor-length mirror. 

You had gained a little weight. It was normal, you supposed; a natural result of your many nights out with your lover. 

But you felt stuck in front of the mirror, your eyes rolling over the curves at the bottom of your stomach, what once was somewhat flat. Little thunderbolt-shaped lines now decorated the dimpled skin. And as you brought your arm up to grip the loose fat, you saw the extra flesh there too. 

“Mi amor, you coming?” Franco called from inside the bathroom. You hummed in response. 

You turned, noticing how the light caught every imperfection. The puffiness in your face, the roundness of your jaw, the lines and bumps and discoloration. You sucked in your stomach, seeing the surface flatten, then exhaled, watching with disgust how your body shifted.

“Amor?” Franco said, poking his head outside of the bathroom. Seeing you in front of the mirror, he crossed the room, finding his way behind you. He was covered only with a towel, wrapping his arms around your naked form and kissing your neck. But the sight of his flawless, athletic body behind yours did nothing to dismiss your insecurities. 

“What are you doing, pretty girl, hm?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“I’ve gained weight.”

“Did you? I didn’t notice.” His voice was tinged with a genuine confusion. 

“I look like I’m pregnant,” you said, gesturing to your bloated stomach.

“No it doesn’t,” he assured. “But if you want to be pregnant, we can arrange that.”

You ignored his attempts at banter. “I look gross.”

“Mi amor,” Franco began, his voice more serious. “Do I need to fuck you again to show you how beautiful you are?”

“Franco—”

“YN.”

You looked away.  “You could be with a model.”

“I’m with you. And you’re perfect, and I love you with my entire heart.” You bit the inside of your cheek. He continued, “Look at me.”

You brought your gaze back to his. “Your body has changed a little bit, so what?”

“It’s easy for you to say. You’re an athlete.”

“That doesn’t matter. No more of this talk. You’re beautiful. End of discussion. Now, let’s stop wasting water and get in the shower.”

You weren’t really feeling any better. If anything, you felt worse, now self conscious of your nakedness as Franco ran his hands up and down the soapy surface of your skin. You wanted nothing more than to get out of the shower, put on your clothes, and bury yourself so deep under the covers that you’d forget that you ever even possessed a physical form. 

And, much to Franco’s dismay, that’s what you did, turning away from him as you laid your head down to sleep. He pushed himself up next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. He tapped his foot on your leg, initiating you to throw it over his is like you usually did every night. 

“You know,” he whispered, “this is when you’re supposed to pretend like you like me.”

“It’s not you, Franco,” you whispered back. “I love you. But it’s not something you can fix.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But that won't stop me from trying.” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, and you fell into a tense sleep.

Although Franco hadn’t initially noticed your physical changes, he now noticed your emotional ones. You wore loose clothing more often, as if to hide your body not only from the outside world, but from yourself. You skipped breakfast occasionally when you were having a really bad day. And now, when you made love, you wanted the lights out, preventing him from seeing the shapes of your body.  

He knew that what you had said was true—he couldn’t fix this. No matter the amount of love he showered you in, he couldn’t change the way your mind thought when you looked at yourself in the mirror. And it broke his heart knowing that you couldn’t see the same version of yourself that he saw, the perfect girl who he loved so dearly.

Your pain was beyond his fixing, but not beyond his helping. If he had showered you in love before, it was monsoon season now. Flowers every week. More lingerie to model for him.  Touching you nearly every second of the day. More sex than your body could handle. 

Of course, you welcomed his affection. But none of it helped that wound deep inside of you. 

It was at work, of all places, that he got the idea. 

“We’ve got a meeting with the new sponsors today,” his manager explained as they quickly trotted down the long hallway to the conference room. “That luxury brand I was telling you about? I’ve sealed the contract, they’re just here to plan the promo materials.”

Now, sitting in the conference room, the brand representative explained it to him. “The idea for the campaign is risque luxury. We want something… elegant, yet dangerous. Formula 1 fans are the perfect audience. Most of the shots for the initial campaign would just be in-studio, and then, we’d need you to wear some pieces we provide at official Formula 1 events.”

“That all sounds fine,” he said. 

“Great! We’re still looking for some more representatives for the women’s line, but when we find them, we can set up a date for the shoot.”

“Wait, like a female model? I’d need to pose with her?”

“For the first shoot, yes. And if we can get some shots of you and whoever we choose at official events, that’d be perfect.”

“Uh, well, I have a girlfriend. I can't just…be taking random women to events.”

The rep laughed. “Oh, it’s not like that. The models are all professionals. I assure you that no one would be trying to take you away from your partner.”

“If you all need a female model, why not just use her? We’ll be seen together a lot more than anyone else, no?”

His manager shot him a death glare. Was it highly unprofessional to be suggesting his own girlfriend for a job like this? Absolutely. Did he care at all? Absolutely not. 

The rep asked, “Oh, does she model?” 

“Eh… no, not professionally. But this could be her big break, no?” Franco laughed, and the rep did too, for obviously different reasons. But Franco was, unfortunately, serious. 

“Does she have social media?” the rep asked, and Franco pulled up your instagram as the rep scrolled through. 

“Well, first of all, she’s beautiful,” the rep said, clearly trying to be polite. “But, modeling is not just about being pretty.”

“Then why am I here?” The room erupted in laughter, but Franco hadn’t intended the statement to come out like a joke. “No, I’m serious. I drive Formula 1 cars. What are my modeling qualifications?”

“Well,” the rep began, carefully choosing his words, “you have the Latin American market in a chokehold—”

Franco cut him off. “My fans love her, too.”

The rep pursed his lips. “I’m sure they do.” 

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult—”

“Not at all,” the rep said, cutting Franco off as well. “Let me ask, though… is this a deal breaker for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we get a real model, are you saying you wont pose or be seen with her?” 

Franco looked at his manager across the table, who was nothing short of fuming. He began, “You said the theme was ‘risque luxury.’ I’m not going to pose for risque photos with another woman, no.”

The rep sighed. Franco continued, “And honestly, I still don’t even understand why you all even want me to model for you. Nobody in Argentina can even afford these outrageous prices—”

“Okay Franco, that’s enough!” his manager said, a false happiness in her tone. She turned to walk the rep outside, saying, “This has been a wonderful meeting, we can’t wait to hear from you…”

Once he had exited the building, she returned, looked at Franco, and said, “I hope you know you just lost us that contract.”

“Did you sign me up to do a photoshoot with a random woman?”

His manager paused. “...It’s business, Franco.”

“C’mon,” he said, “you knew about this, and you didn’t say anything?”

“I thought you’d understand. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.”

“You knew that was too much.”

She sighed. “Yeah, okay, I took a gamble hoping you wouldn’t care and I lost. But that sponsorship money is coming out of your bonus.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to promote this overpriced shit anyway.”

“You’re the bane of my existence, kid,” his manager said, patting him on the back as she walked out of the room.

At the end of the day, all Franco could think about was coming home and collapsing in your arms. When his manager was mad at him—which was often, given his refusal to be media trained—it was his favorite way to destress. 

So when he arrived home and collapsed on top of you, interrupting whatever mindless show you had been watching, you just smiled to yourself. As he exhaled, you placed one hand through his soft curls, and threaded the other under the collar of his shirt to scratch his back. He melted into your touch.

“Hello,” you said, placing a kiss on his head. “Long day?”

“She’s mad at me again,” he murmured, closing his eyes. 

“What’d you do this time?”

“Why do you assume I did something?”

You softly chuckled, “Because I know you.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he pouted.

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

He sighed. “I fucked up a sponsor contract. But really, it wasn’t my fault! They wanted me to pose with a bunch of models to sell their overpriced jewelry.”

You hummed. “I thought you liked doing photoshoots?”

“They’re fun, yeah, when they don’t want me to touch random women,” he frowned. You could hear the genuine disgust in his voice.

“I think you’re the only man in the world who would turn down the opportunity to be surrounded by models,” you laughed. 

He lifted his head up to look at you. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“Why would I want a bunch of random women touching on me when I have a girlfriend?”

You laughed again. “Because they’re models.” 

He gave you a look of confused disgust and said, “Oh, hush, YN. You’re the only woman I want within a hundred feet of me at any given time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that other women are beautiful.”

He looked at you sternly. “Um, no. This is when you tell me I’m not allowed to look at, let alone touch, anyone other than you.”

“Franco, you know I’m not like that.”

“You are, though! What has gotten into you, lately?”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m fine.”

Franco sighed. “No, you’re clearly not. What do I have to do for you to understand that you are the only woman in this world that matters to me? I don’t care what you say, you are the only one I want, the most beautiful girl in the world—”

He leaned up to kiss you, but you dodged his affection.

“Hey!” he protested. You got up from the couch, feeling overwhelmed by the whole interaction. 

“YN, come back—” you just ignored him as you went back to your shared bedroom, barricading yourself in the attached bathroom and exhaling. 

Franco was right. The insecurity had been eating at you for weeks, and somehow, Franco’s commitment to trying to make you feel better had made it worse. Most girls would be happy that their boyfriend (especially their young, famous, athlete boyfriend) wanted nothing to do with other women. But somehow, it just made you fear the worst—when Franco finally saw you as you saw yourself, and you became nothing more than just another one of the many women he ignored.

“YN, come out and talk to me,” you heard him softly plead from outside the door.

“I’m sorry, I just need a minute,” you said through the tears that welled up in your eyes.

“No need to apologize, take all the time you need,” he said. “But when you’re done, promise you’ll come talk to me about it?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah,” you answered weakly.

“Okay,” he said. You could hear how he pressed his forehead to the door. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your voice was shaking.

You just needed 5 minutes to breathe and calm down alone. That’s what you told yourself as you took another deep breath and wiped away the tears that now spilled over the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered to yourself. “I’m okay, it’s okay. It’s okay.” You’d say it until it was true. 

When you'd finally calmed down somewhat, you still waited in the bathroom, not wanting Franco to see your puffy, bloodshot eyes, the evidence of your tears. But he knew you were crying. And he knew you’d keep your word and talk to him when you were ready.

He knew you inside and out. So when you silently emerged from the bathroom and found him in the kitchen washing dishes, he knew no words were needed. You slipped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his back as he turned the water off and dried his hands.

He turned around and met your embrace, holding your head beneath his chin and enveloping you in his strong arms. His tender touch brought the tears back.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.”

“No,” you corrected. “You’re so good to me. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“It breaks my heart to see you hurting like this. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Just hold me,” you said, burying your head deeper into his chest, smelling the familiar scent of his cologne and the warm comfort of his breath rising and falling. 

The next day, Franco woke before you, spending a moment staring at your sleeping form before he had to get up and leave for the day. 

He knew you had been struggling, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how your mind saw something so much more different than his saw. It broke him to know you thought of yourself so negatively.

But he’d hold you all day everyday if it meant it helped even a little bit. He would do anything.

So, when your alarm began screeching and you lazily turned it off, he let you sleep in, simply pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he went into yet another one of endless meetings with his manager before the season started.

She walked in and slammed a stack of papers on the desk. “I don’t know how you keep getting away with this shit every fucking time,” she said.

Franco raised a brow. Her tone wasn’t angry, as he expected, but rather…frustrated?

“The contract,” she continued. “The rep called me last night. They want you to do the campaign no matter what. They’ll let you do it with YN.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes. We’ll have to get her in here to sign the contract, then we’ve got fittings and we still need to set the date for the actual shoot…”

His manager’s voice faded into the background as Franco remembered the previous night. The idea of you, dolled up in designer clothes posing next to him, had excited him at first. Now, he was unsure if that would just make things worse.

He had to be…deliberate in bringing it up. At home that night, as you two ate dinner, he decided to choose his words very, very carefully. 

“So, you remember that contract I said I lost?”

“The designer stuff?” you asked. He nodded. 

“Yeah. Well, I…actually didn’t fuck it up as bad as I thought I did. They still want us to do the campaign.”

“That’s good. It’ll get your manager off your case.” Your gaze drifted to the plate of food in front of you. The unspoken question lingered in the air. 

“Please don’t be mad at me—” he began, but you cut him off. 

“Franco, you’re a professional. I trust you.”

“Well, um… they want you to model.”

You looked up at him, perplexed. “Me?”

“I showed them your social media.”

“And they want…me. To model for them.”

“Well, they want you to do the campaign with me, yes. And wear a dress of theirs to a fancy event or two.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a model. And all my followers are just your fans, anyway.”

“Other driver’s girlfriends have done it, why can’t you?” He put down his fork and looked you in the eye. “YN, I think this would be a great thing. I can show you off to the world, and they’ll dress you up and make you feel beautiful. You’re beautiful without it, of course, but you know what I mean. I can’t make you say yes, but I’d love to do this with you.”

You took a beat to think. You couldn’t deny that you wanted the experience of going to lavish galas in designer gowns and seeing Franco grace the covers of magazine and social media home pages. Besides, you thought, if you truly looked bad they could just photoshop you to hell and back.

“Okay,” you answered, “let’s do it.”

So, a few weeks later, you found yourself in one of those cloth chairs that you had only seen in movies, having powder liberally applied to your face by a makeup artist. 

“The heavy makeup is just for the lights. They’re warm and harsh, so it’ll drown you out and make you look greasy if we don’t apply this much.”

You hummed in response, afraid to move your face. “I can tell this is your first time,” the artist said. “Just relax and let us work our magic, yeah? When they all say celebrities are fake, this is what they mean.”

You would have chuckled if you weren’t already sweating with nervousness. “Close your eyes,” she said, and you obeyed, only flinching as she generously sprayed setting spray over your makeup. 

“Alrighty, off to hair for you.”

Hair was the same—a nervousness that clearly identified you as an outsider to this world of glitz and glamor. You coughed when she nearly drowned you in hairspray. 

Then it was time for the final touches, the dress and jewelry. 

You gasped as they brought it out. A long silver satin gown, custom measured to hug your curves perfectly. Your neck was adorned with diamonds, your lips blood red, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulders. 

When you finally made it into the studio, Franco was already there, clad in a simple yet elegant black suit to contrast against the shiny fabric of your dress. He wasn’t facing you when you first entered, but hearing the click of your heels against the wooden floors, he turned and stopped in his tracks. 

“Oh my God,” he exhaled. “You look…” He was, quite literally, speechless.

You let out an awkward laugh, unused to having so much attention on you. 

“Amazing!” the brand rep said. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

And that, you did. The first shots were simple: you resting your arms on a chair while Franco sat, looking off into the distance, his perfect side profile on display. Both of you staring down the camera, arms placed in dynamic positions. 

Then you switched to the more sensual shots. Franco kneeled before you, kissing your hand, allowing you to show off the ring they had placed to contrast your black gloves. Another one, a shot of you holding his cheek as he gazed up at you in admiration. 

Then you switched, with him taking the more dominant role in the poses. His hand around your neck, showing off his own ridiculously expensive rings, as you tilted your head upwards towards him and he glared at the camera. A shot of Franco holding you up against a wall; his arm was draped above you to show off a watch, but his other hand found your waist and his head was turned as if to kiss you while you stared at the camera.

“Okay, play with the pose a bit,” the photographer instructed. “Let’s get some candids.”

You turned away from the camera, trying to ignore the incessant clicking and flashing in the background.

He smiled. “Hi, pretty girl.”

“Hi,” you replied, smiling as well. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Franco leaned closer to your ear to whisper, “I really want to rip this dress off you.”

“Franco!”

“Oh, that was good!” the photographer yelled. “Whatever you said, do it again, her expression was golden.”

You laughed as you both repositioned, standing in front of the dark backdrop. 

“How much will it cost if I damage this dress?” Franco asked, looking at the photographer.

“Probably more than quadruple my salary,” the photographer laughed. “So please don’t.”

“But I have an idea. Just hear me out.”

Franco leaned down and gripped the strap of your dress in his mouth, eliciting a gasp from you and a thousand clicks of the camera. 

His most bold suggestion, though, was the shot from the floor; he laid down and had you crawl on his chest and kneel above his head, draping his shoulders in the luxurious fabric and showing off your bedazzled garter beneath a silt in the dress. Though the photo would only expose a little bit of thigh, you couldn’t deny the rush of adrenaline that the position gave you. 

When the shoot was over, it hurt your heart a bit to have to take off the dress and jewelry. Franco could tell. A sad smile painted your face as they carefully removed the diamonds from your neck and ears. But the one that hurt most was the gorgeous diamond ring, which you gently slipped off your gloved finger with a pang of sadness.

Franco was right; it had been fun to dress up and show off, but it was over now. So you said a silent goodbye to this false world of luxury as you walked off to the dressing room, and Franco went over to the brand rep who was packing up your jewelry. 

“A lovely job, both of you!” he said. “I’ll admit, I was hesitant at first, but you all definitely proved me wrong. These photos will come out amazingly.”

“How much is the ring?” Franco asked, gesturing to the lockbox that it was now hidden away in. 

“Ah, I could tell she liked it. Are you thinking of popping the question soon?”

“Ah, well…” Franco said, nervous now. It hadn’t occurred to him that it was an engagement ring. 

The rep laughed. “Well, this one’s from the new collection, expertly crafted. Usually goes for around $130,000, but that’s just with the base without any modifications.”

Franco choked on his own saliva. He certainly wasn’t making that much money yet, and besides, he didn’t know if his little working-class heart could ever justify spending that much money on a shiny rock. 

But for you? Anything. 

The rep could sense his hesitation. “Well, if you decide to go for it, here’s my card. Maybe we can work something out.” Franco nodded and accepted the card, stowing it away in his wallet after he changed out of his suit. 

Once you arrived home, the mountain of makeup and hairspray that you were both still covered in acted as the perfect excuse for a shower together.

As Franco lathered shampoo into your hair, he whispered, “You looked beautiful today.”

You smiled. “I felt beautiful.”

The photos were released a few weeks later, sending the internet into chaos. 

YN!?!?!?! CAN FRANCO FIGHT?

Does YN know that we’d all kill to be her right now

The hand placement!! The look in his eyes!!! That man is IN LOVE!!!!!

You chuckled to yourself as you read through the comments on your Instagram post. 

You saw the most important comment: the one from Franco. 

Eres el amor de mi vida <3 

You felt butterflies rise up in your stomach as you tapped the little heart to like the comment, as if that same man wasn’t taking you to the F1 Grand Prix Gala in Monaco tonight. 

You wanted nothing more than to walk in on his arm, basking in the glow of the photoshoot. It wasn’t just the glamor of the shots or the makeup that made you feel better; it was Franco. The way he looked at you like you were a goddess—you finally understood what he meant when he said he wanted you to see yourself as he saw you. 

As you donned the loaned dress from the same brand—less extravagant than the gown from the shoot, but still gorgeous—you were so thankful you had let Franco talk you into this. 

Everyone was abuzz at the event, and you were getting kudos left and right from strangers, which was slightly embarrassing, but you soaked in the attention anyway. But the best feeling was your lover’s hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowded ballroom.

You stepped out onto an empty balcony, drinking in the clear night air, now alone from the crowd. Of course, he followed like a lost puppy. 

“Mi amor,” he said as you leaned against the ledge, “I don’t know what’s more beautiful, you or the night sky.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “That’s too much, even for you.” 

“Maybe,” he joked. “And, maybe, we should get out of here. I’m tired of pretending to like all these old rich people.”

“That sounds lovely.”

You two sped home, where Franco wasted no time taking off your dress and decorating the floor with it.

“Let me worship you,” he said, grazing his lips over the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Don’t you already?” you joked, evidence of your returned confidence.

“I do,” he said, “because you’re divine. I want to taste you.” He grabbed your panties with his teeth, pulling them down slowly, enjoying the burning desire you both felt as his skin grazed against yours. 

But even now that he had you fully undressed, he still teased you, gently kissing your thighs, looking up into your eyes with every kiss. You pushed his hair back, softly inhaling with every inch of skin that his mouth touched. 

“Franco…”

“Mi ángel,” he exhaled. “Mi reina, mi cielo, mi vida.”

With a featherlight touch, he brought his mouth to your wetness, kissing your clit before rolling his tongue around the soaked bundle of nerves. Your breath hitched.

He brought two fingers to your entrance, teasing you until you were dripping with want for him. “You’re perfect. So perfect for me.”

His praise felt like your native tongue, the way your bodies and words naturally curved to each other, fitting together like you were made for this. 

He echoed your thoughts, continuing, “You take me so well.” He curled his fingers to hit that sensitive spot inside of you that made you see stars, eliciting a moan. 

“I live to pleasure you, mi amor.” He brought his mouth back to your clit, pointing his tongue and swirling circles around it as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. 

You squirmed under him, overcome by the pleasure of both his hands and his words. As he continued his movements, he never shifted his gaze from you.

But you looked away, to the mirror in the corner that had been moved as you got ready. You had a perfect view of Franco pleasuring you, and God, was the sight beautiful. 

Franco saw you looking and stopped, eliciting a frustrated whine from you. 

“Come here,” he said, climbing on the bed. “Keep facing the mirror.” He positioned himself behind you, grabbing your chin to keep your face straight as you both gazed at your reflections. “I want you to watch me fuck you. I want you to see how perfect you look when I take you.”

You wordlessly nodded, loving the vulnerability of being at the mercy of the man who worshipped you. 

As Franco unwrapped and put on a condom behind you, you studied the patches of red that colored your cheeks, flushed from your lover having nearly brought you to the brink of orgasm only moments before. 

He spanked you and you playfully yelped. “Don’t you dare take your eyes off this mirror.”

“What if I do?” you asked. “Will you punish me?”

He spanked you again, the other side this time. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Then, slowly, he placed his hands on your hips and found his way to your entrance, filling you with a swift but gentle motion. You both let out a low moan. 

“Even your pussy is perfect,” he said as he began to move. “Taking every inch of me.”

“Yes,” you moaned. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, increasing his pace and intensity, making you scream. “I want to fuck this pussy every day for the rest of my life.”

His words went through one ear and out the other; you couldn’t focus with his fucking you into the mattress with every thrust.

You cried and closed your eyes, hanging your head as you tried to hold back the waves of pleasure that were building in your core. But Franco roughly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back up.

“What did I tell you? Look at yourself, getting fucked like the perfect little whore you are.” You loved it when Franco was a little rough with you, but combined with the praise, it nearly sent you over the edge.

“Now,” he said, slowing down his pace, “since you didn’t do what I told you, you don’t get to cum.”

You whined in protest as Franco pulled out, leaving you feeling cold and empty. “Please,” you begged. 

He laid down on the bed. “If you want it, do it yourself,” he teased. “Ride me. If you want to cum, you have to watch as you make yourself cum on my cock.” 

You didn't argue, instead just obeying and sinking yourself down on him. You watched in the mirror as he disappeared in you, mesmerized by the way your bodies connected. 

His hands found your waist again as you began to bounce on him, chasing your release with an relentless pace. 

“Fuck, Franco, I’m close—” you moaned, and you felt his hand come down hard on your ass again. 

“Are you watching?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me how beautiful you look.” If he had said this at any time other than in the heat of your passion, you would have cringed. But now, moments away from an orgasm, you obeyed.

“I fit perfectly on top of you,” you began with a shaky voice. “And I look…I look perfect riding your cock.”

“What else?”

“I look beautiful covered in your love bites.”

“Good girl,” he growled, matching your pace, fucking up into you. “My perfect, beautiful girl.”

With his final statement of praise, you shook, letting yourself drown in waves of pleasure as he continued fucking you through it. 

He had switched back to Spanish now, babbling away what you assumed to be your praises as he chased his own orgasm, quickly finishing from the heavenly feeling of your walls gripping around him. 

When you all collapsed in a pile next to each other, he threw an arm around you, wordlessly holding you in his embrace. His words could never truly make it better, he knew that.

But thankfully, his words weren't needed anymore. Now, you believed him. 

[hiraizyo]

i’ve been thinking only of you.

synopsis — the lines between your agreement with daniela begin to blur the longer it continues, causing serious confusion of feelings.

friends with benefits, slight fluff, jealous!dani, lesserafim 6th member!reader

now playing: woo, by rihanna

a/n: here y’all go! this is a little longer than i expected, so i split it up into three parts :) the second part should be up in a few days. there’s also slight kazuha x reader, also not proofread!

when you first met daniela avanzini, it was during lesserafim’s surprise greeting with the dream academy girls. from the moment you stepped foot into the dance room, you couldn’t keep your eyes off her.

the second time you met her was after the katseye members had been announced, and your group had promotions to do in america. yunjin, being the social butterfly she is, arranged for the two groups to meet up during a free day within your schedule.

you and daniela hit it off immediately. spending the whole day side by side, wandering off together while the other girls waited in line for a carnival ride, clinging onto each others arms. by the end of your little outing, you and daniela had exchanged numbers, texting each other when you had the chance despite the time difference and the busy schedules.

the third time you saw one another, katseye had come to south korea. upon hearing this news, daniela immediately set up a date for the two of you to hang out together.

that day, while it was only you and her in the room of your dorm, the dynamic shifted. you now saw her in a different light. there was something about her that kept you entranced, wanting to feel her close, her body against yours.

this marked the beginning of your agreement.

you understood each other — the busy schedules, the overworking, the long hours of learning and practicing choreography, all the time spent in the studio. the stress of being in a girl group allowed for you and her to take it out on one another in the best way possible; ravishing her body as she would do to yours.

the rules were simple. you were not to tell anyone about the arrangement, nor were you allowed to leave any evidence of being together. that meant no hickeys, no scratch marks, no leaving clothes at each other’s dorms, and no staying the night.

to the public and group members, you were simply good friends. but behind closed doors, that was when the truth about you and daniela came out, allowing for your deepest desires to rise above the surface.

at first, it was easy.

months had gone by without a single slip up, meeting one another whenever either of you were in the same country. although as time went on, neither of you could deny you were falling deeper into each other, no matter how much of an attempt there was to hide it.

but you had to remind yourselves that this was all fun and games, nothing was to be taken seriously.

the first time daniela could feel the strings of her heart being tugged was the when you had broken one of the rules. you knew it was dangerous territory, but it was late, and daniela’s bed was even more comfortable than you remember. the kats’ would be out for a few more hours, and the moment they were out the door she was calling you over, the empty place allowing for you and her to have as much fun as you could.

the latino shifted to lay on her stomach beside you, leaning up her forearms that were tucked under a pillow. you lay with your head facing up, one hand tucked behind your head while the other rests atop your stomach, body being covered by the sheet.

daniela gazed at you, her eyes tracing over your neck and collarbones. “do you want to stay the night?” she asked, quietly.

you looked at the girl, her lips bruised and her curls a mess. it was silent for a moment, as daniela watched you think over her proposal.

“dani, i shouldn’t…” you whispered, voice hoarse.

you turned to look for the nearest article of clothing you could find, knowing where this was leading. it caused you to run a hand through your hair, avoiding her gaze. daniela brought up a hand to rest on your shoulder, her touch warm.

“i know we have all the rules, but this won’t mean anything.” she insisted, her nails raking over your skin. “c’mon, it’s late, and it’s dark out.”

you sighed, staring at her for a moment. “fine.”

realizing she had won you over, daniela smiled, her pearly white teeth on display. she shuffled closer to place a kiss on your cheek, earning a chuckle from you.

you moved your hand away from behind your head until it rested on her lower back, tapping your pinky and ring finger just above her ass.

“but we should get dressed at least, i doubt manon will let you live this down if she finds us naked and sleeping together.” you told her, cheeky smile in place.

she nodded, understanding where you were coming from. and when she moved off the bed to search for hers and your clothing that had been wildly scattered around the room, you couldn’t help but shamelessly stare at her body.

the following morning, while the rest of the girls were all in their rooms still sound asleep, you and daniela stood in the kitchen of the katseye house. it was early in the day, but you needed to be back at the hotel lesserafim was staying at before leaving for you scheduled plans.

you pecked daniela’s lips, tasting the remnants of the coffee she had finished. “thank you for breakfast.”

“you’re welcome.” she grinned, trailing her hands up until they wrapped around your neck and kissed you again.

you smiled into the kiss, letting yourself relax in the intimate moment, until you remembered where you were.

you pulled away, alarm clear in your eyes. “aren’t you worried about the girls?”

daniela played with your baby hairs as she smirked. her lips ghosted over yours, whispering, “we’re sneaking around, this is what makes it fun.”

before you could speak again, she shut you up with another kiss. rough and fast paced, you kissed one another with passion as you knew this would be the last time you’d see one another for a while. her hands tangled in your hair, while yours gripped her waist tightly.

a few more seconds went by, and when you finally separated both of your cheeks were flushed, chests moving up and down in quick motion.

daniela bit her lip, moving her hands down until she was holding onto the chain of your necklace, twisting it between her fingers. “this is cute.”

“you think so?” you glanced down at the necklace briefly, smiling when you saw the latina nod.

you moved her hands away from you, letting them go and reaching behind your neck to unclasp the necklace. with ease, you placed it around her neck, and fastened the necklace. it dropped around her neck, hanging loosely as you settled your hands on her shoulders.

“you should have it.” you told her, brushing her hair behind her shoulders to admire the way the necklace looked on her.

daniela looked at you with a blush, her eyes shining with wonderment. she could feel her body fill with warmth, her stomach fluttering.

for a moment, everything around you stilled in place as you stared at the stars in her eyes.

she lightly pushed against your chest, her heart stuttering at the brief intimate moment. clearing your throat, you took a quick look at the clock hanging in the wall, realizing you’d have to leave now before chaewon would start calling your phone.

“i’ll see you in a couple weeks.” you told her once you were standing outside the door.

daniela was leaning against the doorframe, nodding along as she said her final goodbyes. she watched as you walked off, back now facing her.

when she made her way back to the kitchen, she was playing with your necklace absentmindedly, not noticing megan standing by the coffee machine, yawning.

“morning.” daniela greeted her, cleaning up the cups and plates from having breakfast with you.

“oh, hey.” megan replied, watching her friend move around the kitchen. “did yn just leave?”

“yup.” the latina nodded, and began running water in the sink for the dishes. “she said she needed to get back or else chaewon would have her head.” daniela laughed, remembering the description you gave her of seeing chaewon angry, like a young puppy.

megan positively shook her head, moving around the kitchen silently as she opened the draw for a tea spoon and some sugar from the cupboard. she made her cup of coffee quickly, stirring the drink together with milk.

“you guys are getting really close.” the ginger noted, taking a small sip of her drink after blowing on it.

daniela could feel a heart a skip a beat, wondering if megan has any suspicions of your agreement. she wiped her hands on a hand towel, facing her friend with a small smile, leaning against the counter, trying to seem as comfortable as possible.

“yeah, i mean, we’re becoming good friends.” daniela said, coughing lightly. she subtly breathed in a deep breath, trying to control her heart rate.

megan took another sip, tapping her finger on the side of the mug as she set it down on the kitchen island. “i take it you know about kazuha then.”

daniela tilted her head, curiosity now creeping in on her. “what?”

her eyebrows were creased together in interest. the reaction told megan that she was unaware, but the ginger didn’t think much of it as she continued with her story.

“yn and kazuha?” she leaned to rest her chin on her hand that was on the counter. “they had a thing a while back. i don’t know much of the details, but yunjin was telling me about it cause she’s worried it’s starting up again.”

daniela froze, her body running cold.

what the fuck was megan talking about?

the latina had never heard about you and kazuha being a thing. not once had you mentioned it to her, and she didn’t pick up on any weird vibes between you two when lesserafim and katseye were together a couple months ago.

she forced a smile. “yeah, no, uhm… i-i heard about it. little things, here and there.” she lied, her focus wavered as she stared in front of her.

megan hummed before beginning to talk about the events of the day. the group would be going into the studio, preparing for a new release. daniela, on the other hand, drowned out her words.

nakamura kazuha. you and kazuha. when did this happen? how long ago? and was it like what you and daniela were doing now? or was it something more?

she shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. she decided it wasn’t worth her time, and daniela knew if you didn’t saying anything about you and japanese girl then it was for good reason.

daniela never considered herself a jealous person.

she was secure enough to not be bothered by feelings like that. she knew she was a catch, and that anyone would be lucky to be with her. she was confident in herself, in her abilities, in her way to easily make any person fall in love with her.

so why was she so pressed about kazuha?

daniela didn’t want it to worry her, but the more she thought about it, the more a fire began to burn in her chest. the tight, hot feeling spread through her body as she watched a past live on her phone. staring back at her, was a video focused on you and the japanese from a couple days ago, when lesserafim had done group live.

kazuha sat in between you and eunchae, wearing a checkered flannel that showed this was a pretty casual and last minute decision to go live. beside her, you wore a black sweatshirt, with matching black sweatpants. daniela couldn’t help but stare, thinking you looked absolutely stunning despite the low effort outfit.

the japanese girl lay her head on your shoulder, laughing at something yunjin was saying in the background. daniela wasn’t taking note of anything, solely focused on the interactions between you and the other girl.

her jaw clenched as she watched you intertwine your hand together with hers, leaning your head back against the wall.

her attention shifted once yunjin’s forehead came into the frame, reading some of the comments. the american chuckled to herself, looking back at you and then at the phone once again. “yn, some one asked ‘is it true that you have a soft spot for kazuha?’” yunjin leaned away, gasping and pointing, “yes! fearnots, is it sooo true!”

your free hand was quick to rise up in the hair, shaking it violently. “that is not, jennifer! i love all my members equally!”

eunchae swat your arm playfully, her wide smile showing that she was clearly joking, but the rage daniela felt inside her didn’t see this as a joke.

“unnie, don’t lie!” she cackled, “i’ve seen it with my own eyes, anything i ask for you say no. but if zuha-unnie asks you’re immediately saying yes!”

the maknae nodded enthusiastically, trying to make it seem as if she wasn’t making this up. you shook your head, rolling your eyes at your youngest members antics.

chaewon chimed in, “remember that time we wanted to go out to eat, but yn said she was too tired? then when kazuha spoke about it, she was the first one out the door!”

the three girls all laughed, collectively shouting over one another as they recalled the memory. sakura tried her best to calm them down, trying to do some damage control.

daniela continued to watch as you weakly defended yourself, while kazuha pulled you into her and whispered in your ear. your cheeks flushed pink, then you snuggled closer to her, and daniela wondered to herself what the girl told you in that moment.

she locked her phone, the video cutting out and all she was left in was the silence of her thoughts. daniela had a sour expression, dropping her phone on the bed and turning to lay on her back.

she thought over the conversation with megan. what did she mean when she said yunjin was worried about things starting up again between you and kazuha?

“oh, for fucks sakes.” daniela groaned, running a hand through her hair.

manon heard her sound of displeasure as she walked into their shared room, closing the door behind her. “what’s got you so fired up?”

daniela rolled her eyes, “nothing.” she huffed, voice sharp. it was a little more aggressive than she intended, earning a teasing smile from her roommate.

“damn, who pissed in your cereal?” the girl chuckled, walking over to her side of the room and looking around in her closet.

daniela glared at the back of her friend, digging her nails into her hand. she didn’t reply, knowing that she would end up saying something she didn’t mean.

the sound of her ringtone caught her attention. she reached for her phone, sitting up in bed and saw your name flash across the screen.

for a second, her anger washed away.

she bit her lip, contemplating her thoughts. daniela’s gaze switched between her phone and manon, deciding to walk out the room in search for a more private space.

“hey,” she said as soon as she answered.

“hi pretty girl.” your voice came through the phone, as daniela sat on the couch. she made sure no one was around, playing with your necklace.

“why’d you call?” daniela asked. her mind was still focused on the live she had seen, the necklace now feeling like a cold burn on her skin.

you laughed lowly, “i wanted to talk to you, hear your voice.”

the words flowed easily off your lips, as if it meant nothing to you. but to daniela, it made her feel special. you wanted to talk to her, even if hours prior you were in the arms of kazuha.

she felt her lips tug upwards, a small smile in place. it did little to overshadow the jealousy she felt, but she had no right to feel this way. she knew that.

“well, you’re hearing it now.” she replied, masking her feelings. “wait— isn’t it late over there by you?”

her concern was valid, knowing the time difference was quite large. it made it difficult to communicate at times, but you and daniela worked around it as much as possible.

you shuffled around your room, the noise being heard on daniela’s end of the call. “don’t worry about that.” you told her, settling into your bed. “so, i’m coming to LA next week for a few photoshoots. i was hoping we could see each other again.”

daniela’s heart stuttered. here she was, being jealous of you and your group member, but all you wanted to do was see her. it had been over a month and half since the last time you’d been together, and you missed her much more than you’d like to admit.

“uh, i don’t know. i’ll have to check my schedule first.” daniela brushed off her nervous feeling, dismissing you completely.

“oh,” you mumbled, voice dropping. “i’m flying in on the thursday, but the saturday is one of my off days. do you think that’ll work for you?”

daniela let your necklace drop from her hand, instead picking at a loose thread of a couch pillow. “i was supposed to go out with lara on saturday.”

you swallowed, feeling a weird sensation in your chest at the mention of the girl. “ooh, replacing me now, are you?”

daniela giggled, moving the phone to her other hand so that she could press to her left ear. “maybe,” she played into your teasing. “does that bother you?”

“not at all.” you grinned, flexing your hand as you stared at it. “as long as i get to have you by the nighttime, it all works out.”

the latina pouted, “so, you’re just using me for sex?”

you chuckled, “was i being that obvious?”

she gasped at your words, and you could already imagine the mock offended look on her face. you laughed even more at the image you had in your head.

“that was such an douche move.” she scolded, her smile widening as she tried to sound upset. “you can forget about seeing me!”

“oh, come on,” you sighed heavily for dramatic effect. “i was only kidding. you’re much more to me than sex, babe.”

daniela paused her breathing, wishing what you had said was true. she blinked a couple times, distracting herself so that she wouldn’t face the truth of her feelings.

“you still there?” your voice cuts into her thoughts, reminding her of what was happening.

“yeah, sorry.” she mumbled. daniela cracked her knuckles of her right hand with her thumb. “uh— saturday works.”

“great!” you exclaimed, turning to lay on your side. “i have a little surprise, just so you know.”

before daniela could ask any further questions, you let her know that you were going to sleep, needing to be up early in the morning. she wished you a goodnight, and was left staring down at the material of the couch.

she wasn’t jealous, she couldn’t be. and she wasn’t allowed to be either, you weren’t hers, nor you were anything serious.

it was a harsh reminder that she chanted in her head, even when she restlessly lay in bed later than night, struggling to fall asleep.

i don’t know if i like this??

also felt like it was getting a little long and i lowk struggle with writing long imagines (personal preference) butttt i have some more ideas for the plot to progress, thats why i split it up into 3 parts :)

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #57: Indulgence

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, comfort, starvation, body image issues, fear of torture, whumper turned whumpee

sorry for the long wait! i really do want to write more this year :)

-

Before Kane could get a single word out, he was tackled.

He just barely managed to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling to the ground as Bellamy’s arms wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him in warm and tight.

“You were dead.” His voice came out squeaky, thick with quick-forming tears. “There was that incident last month, but everyone thought that must have had to have been an impersonator. You’re truly here! Truly!”

“I’m here.” Kane hugged him back, but they only stayed like that a moment before Bellamy pulled back to see his face, still looking quite as though he couldn’t believe Kane were real.

“Where on Earth were you?” he asked, hands still clutching Kane’s arms with the grip of a man who imagined those arms would vanish if he let go.

“It’s a long story.” Kane took a deep breath. “Bellamy, I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I know–”

“Oh, don’t worry about that right now,” Bellamy did free one hand then, requiring it to gesture flippantly and then wipe the tears from his face. “Appreciated, to be sure, but there will be plenty of time for that after more pressing matters. Please, do come in, darling.”

A soft smile grew on Kane’s face. Bellamy wasn’t angry with him, at least. “Thank you. I would love to.”

It was only after he’d crossed the threshold of the doorway that Bellamy dared to let go, though he didn’t let his eyes off Kane for a moment as he made his way to sit on a plush couch in the living room.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, all politeness, though Kane knew exactly what he must look like. What Bellamy must see. Perhaps if Bellamy had seen him months earlier, he would have been unable to maintain such composure.

Not that Kane really minded at all. He was being offered food. “Yes, please.”

Before he knew it–Bellamy having dashed the whole way to the refrigerator and back–there was a pack of cold blood in his hands. “I’m able to warm it up for you, of course, but I do recall that when we were boys, you’d always said the pre-packaged never tastes as good reheated.”

“I don’t mind either way, nowadays.” Truthfully, Bellamy could have tripped and spilled the blood all over the floor and he would have gladly licked it up without much thought. He had before.

He bit into the soft plastic casing and drank. The cool blood was a bit stale, though nowhere approaching spoiled. He wouldn’t have cared if it was. It was delicious nonetheless, and after he’d exhausted what he could suck out through the holes, he tore the packaging apart and licked up every remaining drop clinging to the sides.

“It’s ethically-sourced,” Bellamy commented. “From free, willing, paid humans overseas.”

“It’s really good! Can I have another?” Kane asked before he could stop himself. He’d never been able to indulge before, not since his capture. He was grateful for what Jim had given him, of course. Grateful would be the understatement of the century. But Jim was one human, and he could only give so much at a time.

“Of course!” Bellamy clapped, just once, delighted. And when Bellamy returned, he had two.

Kane downed both, in the same manner as the first. Three meals, just like a human.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Bellamy started slowly, despite that it was very obvious he quite badly wanted to pry. His voice got a touch lower, gentler. “But Kane, my dear. Have you been… eating well?”

Kane crinkled the empty casings, something to do with his hands. He’d really been very proud of the progress he’d made. When he’d first seen himself in Jim’s bathroom mirror, he looked almost like a skeleton, every available bit of fat and muscle his body could spare cannibalized in its attempt to find something to keep him going, until there was nothing left.

He did look better now, after six months of regular meals. He was still far, far skinnier than he was before the hunters, but he had some meat on him now. His cheeks only sunk in a little bit. His collarbone jutted out in a way that just barely bordered ‘passably normal’. You could see the bones of his arms from the inner arm, but not the outer, so as long as he took care to hold his arms just so, no one could tell. Not that he ever really made an effort. His hair didn’t have bald patches anymore, didn’t shed every time he touched it. If he wore layers, which he always did–and not even for that reason–you couldn’t see his ribs. So long as one didn’t look too carefully, he could pass as a regular man.

But Bellamy always looked carefully.

Bellamy didn’t look starved at all. He didn’t have to try not to, of course. His skin was smooth and his face was full. His hair was thick and lucious and styled. He had the figure of a healthy man, one who had food available to him every single day of his life. He only wore one shirt and his abdomen didn’t fall inward from under his ribs like Kane’s did. He smelled like lavender cologne. He practically glowed.

“I… went through a period where I hadn’t been eating very well at all. But as of the past few months, I have,” he answered honestly.

Bellamy sat beside him. “Truth be told, I do mean to pry this time. On account of my increasing worry, you see. Where have you been all this time?”

“Human territory.” Kane looked down at the empty packaging in his hands. The label used the same phrasing Bellamy had–Free, willing humans! “I was captured by vampire hunters when I’d, I’d, ah, hunted f-for a new human. Things were not, um, good there. I wasn’t fed, as you’ve gathered. Then Jim, you remember Jim? He came and got me out. I’ve been living with him for the past seven months. Not owning him!” he clarified hastily, looking up then. “As roommates.”

“I see.” Bellamy’s eyebrows had slowly drawn together in concern more and more the longer Kane had talked. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’re out of there now, dear. I did always like that Jim boy.”

“And I’m sorry,” Kane tried again. “You were right about everything. About humans, about me, about our families, all of it. And I was a bad friend. Even before we parted ways, I always acted like I was better than you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. I really am sorry.” And then, before he could stop himself: “Do you think we could try again?”

Bellamy smiled. “Well, I really am right about everything,” he mused. “I’ll admit, it’s all true. It took me a time to see as well, that you really were dreadful, though I never imagined I’d hear an apology from you.”

Though Kane had expected worse to start, it still tore a hole in him to hear Bellamy call him dreadful. Even if he knew it was true.

“That said,” Bellamy continued, “We were children. I was never the one bearing the brunt of your wrongs, and you’ve clearly turned over a new leaf. If even Jim has forgiven you, I see no reason not to. Absolutely, we can rekindle a friendship.”

Jim has not forgiven him: he’d made that clear. But he moved forward anyway. Maybe he could do that himself, too.

“I would love that.” Kane let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding, like a weight had been lifted from him after a century. “Maybe–maybe you could visit sometime. If you want to. I’d have to get permission. Do you ever go to human territory? I mean, you shouldn’t, but if I got permission, Jim’s sister is a hunter, you see, so it should–”

“Oh, yes, the sister! Elizabeth, if I recall? Yes, I’ve spoken with her, though well over a decade ago,” Bellamy cut in. “I do imagine she’s quite pleased to have her brother returned.”

Kane blinked. “You know Liz?”

“Oh, Jim and Caroline had exchanged phone numbers that night we met, you see. Caroline and the young girl had had a few conversations, but the girl had stopped at some point when she’d realized we had no way to affect Jim’s situation. I do not mean to imply I know her, I’d merely answered the phone and handed it off to Caroline a time or two. She’d always sounded frightened when I’d been the one to answer, so I did not linger,” he explained. “My, she must be grown by now. How time flies!”

“Oh. That’s–she never mentioned,” Kane stammered. “Is Caroline still…?”

“Alive and well, I assure you, though she has moved on to greener pastures. She’s found love, you see. She lives with her boyfriend nowadays, though she’s over often enough that my kitchen is still stocked with human food.” Bellamy reached to collect Kane’s empty packages, which he reluctantly released.

“So she’s back in human territory?” he asked.

“No, just across town. Her boyfriend is no human.”

Kane’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh my.”

He supposed he shouldn’t be too scandalized by the thought of a human and a vampire together. Humans were people, he knew that now, he’d accepted it long ago. Still, it felt… odd, in a way he could not adequately explain.

Bellamy laughed. “You must get with the times, darling.”

-

They sat there chatting for hours, and Kane had almost never felt lighter. It was like he was someone else, a version of him he’d never been before, where he was not horrible to anyone and no one had ever been horrible to him. Bellamy didn’t know what happened, not really, and with him, it was like he could forget, too. Just for an evening.

Just until he happened to glance at Bellamy’s clock and notice the time.

He startled out of nowhere. “It’s late,” he gasped. “I’m not–am I going to be able to get home in time?”

“Well, I’m not sure, as I’ve no idea where you live,” Bellamy points out. “Will you?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Kane grabbed Bellamy’s sleeve, terror striking his heart. “Please don’t make me go out there,” he begged. “I can’t–please, Bellamy, please.”

“What?” Bellamy put his hand over Kane’s, though he made no effort to remove his hold. “Of course, dear. You may spend the day if you wish. Why on earth would I force you into the morning?”

It was all crumbling apart. Of course he couldn’t be normal.

“I’m sorry,” Kane squeaked out, tearing up, but before he could say more, he found himself enveloped in a hug.

“It’s alright.” Bellamy held him as he struggled to collect himself. “You needn’t explain. Or you can, if you’re ready, or once you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Kane breathed.

It was silent, then. He didn’t want to explain. Not yet.

When he’d stopped crying–not that long after, by Kane’s standards, to his pride–Bellamy pulled back. “You know,  I was wondering… how you’re getting blood? Is it still Jim?”

“Oh, yes,” Kane sniffled. “He’s very generous. But he’s actually just recently stopped, and I’m to provide my own from now on. I was meant to go to my parents and clear my status as deceased, but at the last second I decided to come here.”

“I’m flattered,” Bellamy said haughtily, a hand on his chest. “You’d mentioned my going to visit you. What if I were to bring you blood? The kind you’d ‘sampled’ tonight.”

“You’d really do that?” Kane asked. The idea was beyond tantalizing–he could have all the blood he wanted, and not have to run across human territory, even the part with friendly hunters.

“I do. I would so like a chance to visit human territory without scaring the locals, besides!” Bellamy enthused. “A win for us both!”

The next night, Kane returned home with a bag full of blood packs. For once, he could see a future for himself.

-

…

He reviewed the grainy VCR footage captured by the security cameras at the de Sang estate. It was the strangest thing: he just ran up to the gate, stood there for a moment, and ran away. And everyone else was ready to write it off as if it had never happened, all hush-hush. The boring lot of them.

Anton smiled. “Well, look who’s not dead.”

-

taglist in reblogs

[sidestepsam]

hey this is so random but idk if yk the nakay girl on tiktok but she’s met the team a good amount of times and she just posting a video kinda saying she doesn’t really believe in pazzi.

what’s your opinion on that? she’s quite young so idk hahaha

This is a good opportunity to share my thoughts on this.

It is true that they do a lot of things that female best friends do with each other. They’ve also always called each other best friend, etc. so I can understand why a lot of people, especially if they’re not deeply into the lore, may truly think they’re just BFFs. That being said, there’s a very big difference between being unsure/not caring and being a denier. I don’t have an issue with people not being convinced they’re together, if anything I respect it because they’re just waiting for hard evidence. I do, however, have issues with deniers for multiple reasons:

1. It usually comes from a place of heteronormativity and or homophobia.

There’s a lot of people that see being straight as a must have in the mold of the perfect role model and I believe that is applied to Paige especially. Straight men also think this way but from a different perspective. Rather than being worried about them being role models, they’re in denial that P and A aren’t for them. Azzi also gets it because she’s conventionally feminine and a lot of ignorant people think that to be gay as a woman you have to be masculine.

2. It comes from a place of wanting to come of as morally above others.

This is what I think that chick is doing. I’ve never liked her, I think she has a weird parasocial situation going on to the point that she’s developed a weird sense of ownership. This girl knows them just as much as the rest of us do. She’s only met them in public, organized events that of course would not have any outwardly Pazzi situation happening. Literally two videos after that one she’s in literal tears over the game. Of course we all felt it, but to actually cry and film it? Be fr.

Lastly, and sorry if this is rude, but A LOT of these people are literal children. Even some of you on here I can tell are kids/teenagers. That age group knows nothing about reading romantic social cues especially when there’s gay undertones involved. They’ve also never been in relationships. It’s the same reason why they make entire love edits out of P & A looking at each other for 2 seconds and caption it as the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen.

All I’m going to say is that if P or A did exactly what they do with each other with a dude, absolutely no one would question that that dude was their bf. So in conclusion, we will see in 3 months (hopefully) who gets the last laugh 😭💀

[swappermanent]

Freckles (Part 3 - Grandpa's POV)

Life has changed a lot for me in the past nine months. You don’t realize just how much you miss about being young until you’ve got it back. I thought I had a good handle on things, swapping into Dylan every summer like clockwork. A week here, a week there—it was enough to scratch the itch, to remind me of what it felt like to have a strong back, quick reflexes, and boundless energy. But let me tell you, living in a young body for this long? It’s different. Night and day.

Kai—no, Theo now—was right. I’ll admit it. I was reluctant when he first said it to me, standing there in that smug stance of his, shirtless as always, grinning like he had the world figured out. “You clearly get a kick out of being in Dylan’s body,” he said, his tone dripping with knowing amusement. And damn if he didn’t have a point.

I hesitated back then, but looking at me now? I owe Theo a massive thank-you. Staying in Dylan’s body for longer than a week was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. For one thing, there’s a kind of freedom that comes with being young and I’ve been taking full advantage of it.

I live in Berlin now. Thanks to my little caveat—"Feel free to alter your body in any way you see fit during the year"—it was totally in bounds to do something like this. A new life, a fresh start. Berlin seemed like the obvious choice. The city practically begs you to reinvent yourself, to explore every side of who you are, no matter how deeply it’s been buried.

The real Dylan wasn’t thrilled about the move, but what could he do? We all already had Irish passports anyway, so it wasn’t like there were any logistical hurdles. He’ll get over it, I’m sure. Honestly, though, I think he’s secretly jealous.

Besides, this is the perfect place to explore my sexuality. Everyone here is so open—no judgment, no shame. I’ve had sex in all the clubs, even in the middle of Tempelhof Feld. Men, women—it doesn’t matter. And let me tell you, everyone wants my hog and body, which is in peak form.

But the best night I’ve had was one where I wasn’t taking the active role in the encounter.. I’d been getting into leather lately, exploring the scene and one night, I found myself at a warehouse party. Dim red lights, pounding music, the smell of sweat and leather mingling in the air. I was dressed for the occasion—harness, boots, nothing else.

That’s where I met them. A Swedish guy, tall and broad-shouldered, with blond hair and piercing eyes that pinned me in place. And a Bulgarian guy, muscular, his dark eyes smoldering with a confidence that left no room for argument. They didn’t ask; they just knew I would take it.

And I did.

They worked together like a symphony, positioning me between them with practiced ease. The Bulgarian was the first to push inside, his cock thick and unrelenting. I gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he filled me, stretching me in a way that felt like too much and just enough all at once. And then, the Swedish guy. His cock pressed against me, slick and insistent, until he slid in beside the first, my body opening up to take them both.

I’d never felt anything like it—the fullness, the weight of them moving in tandem, their rhythm so perfectly in sync it felt orchestrated. One of them reached around to stroke my cock, his grip firm and knowing, while the other’s hand moved to my chest, teasing my nipples until I was trembling. The pleasure was overwhelming, building in waves that crashed over me again and again, each one higher than the last.

When I finally came, it was like the entire world blurred out of existence. My cock pulsed in the Swedish guy’s hand, the orgasm tearing through me with a force that left me breathless. My legs nearly gave out, but they held me steady, their movements never faltering as they milked every last drop of pleasure from my body. By the time they finished, I was spent, my skin slick with sweat, my heart pounding like I’d run a marathon.

That night changed something in me. It wasn’t just the sex—it was the surrender, the freedom of letting go completely. Afterward, they helped me clean up, their touches surprisingly gentle, and we shared drinks at the bar, laughing and swapping stories like old friends.

And now? Well I think I’m officially a Berliner.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Taste of Heaven

Scars Tex Universe

Warning: I got a good few asks about the scar on Tex’s head so…..

Leah doesn’t know what time it is, she doesn’t really care as the light breaks through the curtain she can’t help but stare at your sleeping form, you’re so peaceful, relaxed she thinks to herself.

Last night was a dream and as the memories flicker through her mind, the journey from the club back to your hotel, your hat still firmly placed on her head as you lead her through the hallways and into your bed she can’t help but smile.

Your hat is on the nightstand beside you and as she looks at you she can’t help notice the little things your hat seems to hide.

Your hair and the way it parts in the middle perfectly even after last night, and as she trails her eyes down towards your eyes she can’t help but notice the scar on your forehead and the way it starts on your forehead but blends into your hair.

Leah runs her finger over it lightly, it’s white against your tanned skin and it seems to hold all her attention as she repeats her movements, again and again.

“It’s not going to disappear no matter how many times you rub it, believe me I’ve tried.” Your voice is raspy with sleep and you startle her ceasing her fingers movement on your head.

“I don’t want it to disappear.” You blink your eyes adjusting to the light in the room “I do.” You say quietly as you turn your eyes flicking over Leah’s face.

“How did you get it.” Leah asks timidly, scared it’s a story you’re not ready to tell. “I-I was messing with my brothers, Mitch was there and a few of my brother’s friends.” You start, Leah’s hand is still on your head and you move yours told hold it gently “I was young-to young to be on a stallion that was being broken in by Tristan and his friend.” Leah stares at the scare before her eyes flicker back down to yours “No one had been close to getting on him but we had been messing around and one of the boys dared me to try, I wanted to be cool, cool in my brothers and there friends eyes so I got on him.” You pull Leah’s hand away from the scar and down away from it entwining your hands with hers “He wouldn’t stop bucking and I came off, I don’t remember anything after that.” Leah’s breath gets caught in her throat “I-i was in hospital for a month after.” Leah swallows harshly “how-how old were you.” You turn looking at your hands “eight.”

Leah watch’s the way your shoulders relax “why do you hide it.” You let out a light laugh “ do you normally ask all the deep questions in the morning.” Leah shrugs smiling “yes normally during our second date.” You laugh again before coughing slightly “I had a crush on this girl when I was younger, it was a year after the whole thing, Mitch tried to play wingman and ask if she was interested she said no way why would I like Freddy Krueger…..I was standing behind her with a flower” Leah feels her heart sink at the thought of nine year old you being told you looked like such an ugly monster.

“I love it.” You roll your eyes “you don’t have to lie it’s ok.” You turn your head letting go of Leah’s hand as you reach for your hat “ no I’m being serious I love it.” Leah says as she grabs your face pulling your attention back to her “I love your scar, it makes you a real cowboy.” You laugh “was the hat not enough no.” Leah laughs leaning in to kiss you “no definitely not.”

[unspuncreature]

hi again. i hate doing this but i could really use some help. my hysterectomy is scheduled one week from today. i have still not received any disability payments from my first surgery back in november and i have been without income since then. i spent my entire saturday in the emergency room bleeding excessively and in debilitating pain. i am still in debilitating pain and the muscle relaxers they prescribed to me only help curb the pain a little and make me fall asleep

i’ve exhausted my savings and resources and am waiting to hear back on my eligibility for food stamps. i have to wait until the end of this month to visit the local food pantry again. i could really use help affording bills and rent and food over the next month while i undergo surgery and begin to recover. there are post-op supplies like more menstrual underwear, electrolyte drink packets, and clothes that do not have holes in them that i have waited until the last minute to purchase because i simply can’t afford them

if you’ve read this, thank you so much. it’s hard to not be embarrassed and ask for this help. this really is not what i want to use this account for. i appreciate every single ounce of help i’ve received so far. thank you

you can donate any amount to my ko-fi or gfm

you can also commission me

howdy, y’all

i am scheduled for top surgery in just a few short months! i’ve wanted this surgery since i was 14, and i’m beyond stoked that it’s really truly finally happening

although i have a little in savings, i live paycheck to paycheck, and i need your help to keep the lights on while i’m recovering

click here to view my gofundme campaign! even a $5 or $10 gift goes a long way towards offsetting the costs of surgery not covered by my insurance provider and carrying me through recovery while i am unable to work

if you’re unable to donate right now, please share this post to your dashboard, with your personal trainer, on your nearest bathroom stall wall, or with that one 3 person group chat with the really specific name. you know the one i’m talking about

sincerely, thank you so much for taking the time to read and share and donate. this online space has been beyond important to me through transition, and i wouldn’t be the person i am today without you and your shitposts and meta and edits and fanart and fic and friendship

i love u guys :o)

[lovrx-s]

Unheard Cries

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

Contains: contains themes of depression, self-harm, and suicide.

a/n: [Please proceed with caution and seek help if you’re struggling :(] I have a part two of this! Idk if i should still post it or not

The light in the apartment had dimmed over the past few months, and so had you.

You and Jenna used to fill this space with laughter and late-night conversations, but lately, it felt like she wasn’t really there anymore. Physically, sure—her bags in the hallway, her perfume lingering in the bathroom—but her presence, the love and warmth you once felt, seemed to have disappeared.

You’d started feeling like a ghost in your own home.

Day One

You stared at the bedroom ceiling as the morning light filtered through the blinds. Jenna was already gone. Again.

She had left early, as she often did, muttering something about a meeting or an interview. She didn’t even kiss you goodbye.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself that she was just busy. That this distance wasn’t personal. But as the hours dragged on and the silence of the apartment grew deafening, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest.

By the time Jenna returned, you were sitting on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself for comfort.

“Hey,” you greeted her softly, but your voice came out weaker than intended.

“Hey,” she replied absentmindedly, her attention already on her phone as she kicked off her shoes.

“Can we talk?” you asked, the words sticking in your throat.

“Not now,” she said sharply, not even looking up. “I’m exhausted.”

Your heart sank as you watched her retreat to the bedroom, leaving you behind with nothing but the growing weight of your loneliness.

Day Three

You tried to reach out again. Tried to let her know that you were drowning in your own head.

“Jenna,” you began hesitantly, watching her sip her coffee across the table. “I’ve been feeling… off lately. Like, really off.”

She sighed, placing the mug down a little too hard. “Can we not do this right now? I just got back from a 12-hour shoot.”

“I know, but—”

“No, you don’t know,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. “You don’t understand how hard this is for me, okay? You just sit here all day while I’m out working my ass off, and then you want to unload all your problems on me? It’s too much.”

The words hit you like a slap. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“Forget it,” you mumbled, standing up from the table.

“Good,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing her coffee and walking away.

Day Five

You stayed in bed most of the day, staring at the ceiling, replaying Jenna’s words over and over. Clingy. Too much. Annoying.

She hadn’t come home the night before, and she didn’t bother to text you.

The apartment felt emptier than ever.

You got up only to look at the small collection of pills in the medicine cabinet. The thought lingered, but you shook it off, telling yourself, Not yet.

Day Nine

Jenna’s absence had become your new normal. She was always out—at work, with friends, anywhere but with you.

When she was home, she was distant, distracted, and irritable.

That night, you tried again. You sat beside her on the couch, your hands trembling as you reached for hers.

“Jenna, can we talk?” you asked quietly.

“What is it now?” she groaned, pulling her hand away.

“I’m not okay,” you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. “I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

She looked at you then, her expression hard and cold. “You’re always like this. Do you even hear yourself? It’s exhausting, Y/N. You’re so clingy and needy all the time, and honestly? I can’t deal with it.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening as the tears spilled over.

“Do you even love me anymore?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

She hesitated, and that pause was louder than any answer she could’ve given.

“I don’t know,” she finally said, standing up and leaving you alone on the couch.

Day Fourteen

You hadn’t eaten in two days. Your body felt weak, but the heaviness in your chest was worse.

Jenna had left early that morning without saying goodbye. Again.

You sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the blade in your hand. The thought had been creeping closer every day, and now, it felt impossible to ignore.

But a small voice inside you whispered, One more chance. Just one.

You stood up and cleaned yourself up.

Day Fifteen

When Jenna walked through the door that evening, you approached her cautiously.

“Hey,” you said, your voice trembling. “Can we talk? Please?”

“God, what is it now?” she snapped, throwing her bag on the couch.

“I just… I need you,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes. “I need you to listen to me, to be here for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. You act like the whole world revolves around you. I can’t keep doing this.”

Your heart broke into pieces, each word cutting deeper than the last.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

She sighed and walked past you, heading to the bedroom.

You watched her go, the final thread of hope snapping inside you.

That night, Jenna woke up to an eerie silence. She rolled over, expecting to find you beside her, but the bed was cold and empty.

“Y/N?” she called out, but there was no answer.

Panic set in as she searched the apartment, finally finding the bathroom door locked.

“Y/N! Open the door!” she shouted, banging on it desperately.

When she finally forced it open, her heart stopped at the sight of you on the floor, lifeless, a crumpled note beside you.

Tears streamed down her face as she dropped to her knees, cradling your lifeless body.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But it was too late.

You were gone.

And Jenna was left with nothing but guilt and the memory of every cruel word she’d ever said.

[missyscorner]

𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 — 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘰 𝘉.

𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Lorenzo was never big on relationships; he had only ever been in one — one which resulted in heartbreak and him sulking in his room for a month. Since then, he’s vowed to only have meaningless sex with girls, nothing more. When the two of you have sex one drunken night, you agree to have sex with no attachments. But one of you wants more.

Warnings: Suggestive content (no actual smut), vulgar language, very short, there’s one mention of Y/n (I’m so sorry), dialogue-heavy, not proofread, angst, & no happy ending.

Songs: Casual by Chappell Roan, Kaleidoscope by Chappell Roan, Somethin’ Stupid by Frank Sinatra & Nancy Sinatra, & Dealer by Lana Del Rey.

A/N: Hello! This is the first time I’m actually posting something I’ve written so I hope it’s not too much of a letdown. It was written on a whim so please ignore any inconsistencies or repetitive words.

There’s chatter scattered throughout the Slytherin common room, most of it coming from the group of boys sprawled out on the velvet green sofa — most of it coming from Draco complaining about Harry. You weren’t paying much attention to him, though. Your eyes were glued on Lorenzo staring at you with a sly grin.

When Draco had finished his monologue on his supposed enemy, Theodore was done with three missing assignments in Transfiguration, and Blaise had counted all the ice in his glass twenty-two separate times. You, however, had been gone the moment his speech had hit the ten-minute mark. As much as you loved Draco, you could not bear to listen to him talk for another moment. So, instead, you stood in front of your mirror, pinning your hair up. You wore a long, flowy, cream-colored nightgown, one that cascaded down your body so, very elegantly.

“Cute.” You hear the familiar voice echo from behind you, a small smile plays on your lips as you see Lorenzo’s reflection locking the door. Then, you feel his arms wrap tightly around your waist.

“You’re early,” you whisper, to which he only groans against your neck in response. “You should really start knocking, as well.”

“Missed you.” He leaves a feather-like kiss on the exposed skin of your shoulder, ignoring your lecture.

A light pink flushes across your cheeks, and his hand moves lower. You feel his breath fan against your collarbone, making you instinctively close your eyes.

“You were looking at me quite a bit today, I think you may need to tone it down, Enz. The others may start suspecting something.” Your voice is breathy, but you can’t help it. Not when his hands touch you like they are.

“Would that be a bad thing?” He pulls away, moving his hands to your lower back, gently leading you to your bed.

The mattress molds beneath your body, and his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft, it tastes like coffee and honey. It almost takes away from the harsh reality of the situation — you’re lying in bed with a man who does not feel anything for you. The kiss is cruel, it tastes bitter and deceitful.

You pull away, “Enzo, stop.”

He does. His body moves away from yours.

“Are you okay?” He asks, almost as if panicked.

“Yeah.” Lie. “I just — um, I’m not really feeling it, y’know?” Liar.

“Oh.” He swallows, “Right. I’ll be on my way, then.”

You watch him leave, and a pit forms in your stomach. It resides there for the rest of the night.

The next day, you sit in the courtyard, eyes scanning the words of your book, Lorenzo quietly slides onto the bench next to you.

“Whatcha’ doing?” He looks over your shoulder, startling you slightly.

“Gods — you scared me.” You hear a mumbled apology, closing your book. “What do you want?”

“Why do you always assume I want something? What if I just wanted to say hi to my favorite girl?”

“It’s never just ‘saying hi’ with you, Lorenzo.” There’s a bite in your tone.

“Are you mad at me or something?”

This isn’t fair to him, being mean because he doesn’t want you isn’t fair. You agreed to this, you agreed to emotionless sex; it isn’t his fault it’s not emotionless for you anymore. It’s not his fault he looks at you with the softest eyes, it’s not his fault he touches you so sweetly, it’s not his fault you cling to every moment with him and analyze every second of it. It’s not his fault.

“No, sorry. I’ve just had a rough day, not your fault.” You force a friendly smile.

“Oh. Maybe I can cheer you up, then.” He says, “I have something I want to show you at sunset. I’ll come find you.”

His lips meet your forehead, placing a gentle kiss. Asshole.

You should’ve said no to him, told him to fuck off, and ended things. You would’ve said no if you had gotten the chance to, if he hadn’t kissed your forehead — you probably would’ve said no. Maybe. Definitely. No. No, you wouldn’t have. As much as you resent him for it, he has you in his pocket; from that first night with him, he’s had you in his pocket. He knows that, too.

Three soft knocks fall at your door, opening it, you see Lorenzo standing opposite of you. He’s wearing medium-wash jeans and a plain white tee, his hair is wet and perfectly messy.

“Hey,” his voice is raspier than usual.

“Hi.” You lock the door behind you, and his hand intertwines with yours. “So, where are we going?”

“It’s a secret, my dear. But I can tell you, you’re going to think it’s beautiful.”

“You’re so sure of yourself.”

He snorts in response, “That’s because I know you, and I know you’ll like it. You’re easily impressed.”

“Fuck you.” You roll your eyes.

“Right now? In the middle of the corridor? Scandalous.” He fakes a gasp, and your cheeks taint a light pink.

He leads you out of the castle and to a secluded spot of the Black Lake, trees overlook the area, and the setting sun reflects off the water most beautifully.

“Take off your dress.” His voice sounds from behind you.

“Excuse me?”

“No, I meant — we’re going swimming — not… that.”

“Enzo, I’m not getting in that water. It’s cold out.” You turn around to see him already undressing.

“It’s fine.” He stands shirtless in his boxers, “And I promise if you get hypothermia or drown or something, I’ll save you.” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“From hypothermia?” You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

“Yup. I’ll warm you up with my body heat.” He promises.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Whatever,” he drags his word out, “You’re being too critical. I’m getting in, you can follow if you’d like.” Another forehead kiss.

A sigh escapes your lip as he carefully treads into the water, ultimately, you end up unzipping your dress, leaving you in your underwear. You go after him.

“See? It’s not bad.” His hand grabs yours, helping you in. Don’t read into it, he’s just being kind.

“No, it’s fucking horrible.” Your torso is now engulfed by the cold water.

“Give it a minute, baby, your body will adjust to the temperature.”

In moments like this, you hate Lorenzo. You hate how much influence over you, you hate how you’re ready to agree to anything he says; you think, maybe if you’re willing enough it’ll change how he feels about you.

Your body finally acclimates to the water, it’s slightly more bearable now. Lorenzo guides you further into the water, keeping a firm arm around your waist. Abruptly, he pulls you under, then, you feel his lips on yours. You get a warm feeling in your tummy, it makes your head go fuzzy, and you know it’s time to pull away. Yet, your lips stay on his for a second longer before you swim to the surface for air, Lorenzo follows soon after.

“You asshole, I could’ve drowned!” You smack his chest, water splashing the both of you.

“I wouldn’t have let you drown, put some faith in me.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

You sigh, returning to the bay. His voice calls after you, then, you hear him swim back as well. You’re already halfway done with zipping up your dress by the time he gets to you. Presumably, he takes the hint because he’s now putting his jeans back on. However, with his back facing you, you notice something: red scratches. You hadn’t had sex in a week and a half.

“What are those?” You question.

“What are what?” He turns around, genuine confusion painted on his face.

“Those. The scratches.”

“Oh, right. Um, just some girl. Don’t worry about it.” Just some girl? Is that how he speaks of you when you’re not around — when another girl asks where he got the marks on his back?

“Really?” He doesn't owe you loyalty, you think, no, but he owes you decency. “You’ve been seeing other girls?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, then notices your expression. “You can’t seriously be angry. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Obviously, it’s a big deal.”

“Truly, it is not. You’re overreacting.”

“So, you’d be okay with me sleeping around with other men?” Silence. “Exactly.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t agree to this. You were perfectly fine with us just fucking each other a few month ago.” His voice raises slightly.

“Well, I don’t want to ‘just fuck’ anymore, Lorenzo!” A long pause of quiet surrounds the two of you.

“Y/n, you know — you know I can’t do that.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Stillness.

“We probably should stop this,” you suggest.

���Probably.”

Swallowing harshly, you put on your shoes. He hugs you for what you assume to be the last time, kissing the top of your head.

“If it’s any consolation, I love you. I just don’t think a relationship with me would be the best thing for you, lovely. I’ve got a lot of shit to work through before I’d be good for anyone, and you, especially, don’t deserve to be subjected to that.” His voice cracks, “You deserve someone with the ability to commit and love you to the fullest extent. I wish that person could be me, but I know that I’d hurt you, and I refuse to do that.”

Looking up at him, you see a tear fall from his eye. Then, you feel a tear fall from your own. His hand wipes your dampened cheeks dry, and he whispers delicate comforts. It’s cruel, the way he makes you cry and then wipes it all away.

You move back, taking in his soft features for the last time before walking away. He doesn’t offer to walk you back, he doesn’t say goodbye, he lets you go. Sobbing, you walk back to the castle. Sobbing, you make it to your dorm. Sobbing, you accept that you’ll never be in his arms again, gently brushing through his hair with your fingers, or counting his light freckles. You let that knowledge rip you apart from the inside out. It hurts, but it’s out of your control.

Divider Creds: @milklemondrop

[satellite-evans]

Can't pay the bills

A/N : a blurb that came out of nowhere lol enjoy

word count : 600 words ( she's cute)

Harry was sprawled out on the couch, a book in one hand and a cup of tea resting precariously on the coffee table. His oversized sweater and reading glasses made him look like the coziest man alive, completely at peace in your shared home.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your phone secretly set up to record. The idea for this prank had come to you last night, and you couldn’t resist giving it a go. Harry was so doting, so protective—it was bound to be hilarious.

“Harry,” you called out, your voice tinged with just enough worry to catch his attention.

His head snapped up immediately, the book falling shut in his lap. “What’s wrong, love?”

You wrung your hands for dramatic effect, sighing as you stepped into the living room. “I need to talk to you. It’s… important.”

Harry straightened, sliding his glasses off and setting them on the coffee table. His green eyes searched your face, a flicker of concern crossing his features. “Alright, what is it?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat beside him, biting your lip. “I can’t pay the bills this month.”

There was a beat of silence. Harry blinked at you, visibly confused. “What?”

“I… overspent. Like, really overspent,” you explained, avoiding his gaze. “And now, I don’t have enough to cover the bills.”

Harry tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Darling, you don’t pay the bills.”

You paused, thrown off by his matter-of-fact tone. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He chuckled lightly, though his confusion was apparent. “You’ve never paid the bills. That’s my thing. Always has been.”

You tried to salvage the prank, pressing on. “Well, yeah, but I was trying to be responsible this month! Take some of the load off you, you know? And now I’ve failed.”

Harry gave you a look, one eyebrow raised. “You’re telling me you suddenly decided to take over paying the bills, which I’ve always handled, without telling me… and somehow ran out of money?”

You nodded solemnly, trying to keep a straight face.

He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms. “Alright, let me get this straight. You’ve managed to spend more than what’s in your account, on top of what I’ve already set aside for everything? Love, what did you buy? A yacht?”

At that, you snorted, quickly covering your mouth. Harry’s lips twitched, and you could tell he was holding back a laugh.

“You’re not upset?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“I’m baffled, not upset,” he replied, shaking his head. “I mean, I’d be thrilled if you wanted to be more involved, but you don’t have to. You know I love taking care of you, yeah?”

That did it. The guilt of pranking him—and the tenderness in his voice—made you burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Harry, it’s a prank!” you admitted, clutching your stomach as you leaned forward.

Harry stared at you for a moment before a slow grin spread across his face. “A prank, huh? You think it’s funny to make me think my wife suddenly decided to ruin my perfectly balanced system?”

You were laughing too hard to reply, especially as Harry reached over to tickle your sides mercilessly.

“That’s what you get,” he teased, his voice filled with mock indignation. “Prank me, will you?”

“Harry, stop!” you cried, wriggling away as he pulled you into his arms, still grinning.

When you finally caught your breath, you looked up at him, his face close to yours. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“Sweet, am I?” he said, his voice softening. “You’re lucky I adore you, or I’d make you pay me back by doing the washing up for a week.”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, love,” he whispered, kissing you gently.

[teaboot]

I have no illusions of what I am. I’m a rent-a-cop. A mall cop. A babysitter for adults. I’m nobody’s boss, or dictator, and most of my employed purpose is to be a scarecrow for people who think I have some kind of power or authority.

I’m not allowed to touch anyone, and I don’t want to. Im not allowed to carry a weapon of any kind, and I don’t want to. Im not allowed to chase anyone or yell at anyone, and I don’t want to. I firmly believe, one hundred percent, that the vast majority of conflicts can be handled without violence by simply talking, listening, offering resources, and keeping your own ego in check. Remaining humble and treating others as though they are doing the best they can.

I’m good at my job, and I like my job, and I like feeling like I can help people, even unpleasant or unkind or irrational people. Especially those people, because life is fucking hard when nobody is happy to see you and everyone expects the worst from you.

It’s a necessity that I cooperate with police sometimes. Arson, assaults, stuff like that. And every few months, a cop tells me I should apply to become a cop. That I’m good with ‘difficult people’ and they need extra hands.

And like

Every time, it’s a little bit tempting

I don’t want power. Being in the authority position I HAVE, as small as it is, is exhausting. I don’t like how other security guards talk about addicts and homeless people, and while the cops I’ve met aren’t as crass, I’m skeptical that the outlook on that side of the fence is any better.

But like. I’ve had friends tempted over that way, and they think they can do good from the inside, and I want to believe them

I know a single cog that ticks against the rhythm gets either ground down into shape or gets spit out in pieces, but I want to think it could alter the machine just a tiny bit, you know? If it held out long enough

I don’t believe police are vital or even NECESSARY for half the shit that goes down in this city, but like

Even here, in my two-bit nothing-ass Paul Blart career, I've helped people

Saved backpacks and shopping carts from being unloaded into the trash, helped kids and lost folks find their families, talked down violent or erratic people, responded to ODs and backed up paramedics

I’ve been able to shield kids from criminal charges, and hook people up with resources, buy people food and direct away from hazards and walk people to their cars at night and like

I don’t believe in our justice system, and I don’t trust the police, and I don’t think anything meaningful is ever accomplished through intimidation or threats of violence, and even though other guards I know DO, Im better at my job than they are, and I’m doing good here. Even if they think I’m a soft, naive, gullible loser, I’m effective. So it doesn’t matter.

So like. I keep wondering. Could I do good there, too?

And I think that’s where the devil keeps getting you

The devil keeps tempting me and what they don’t tell you about that is everyone thinks “Maybe he won’t fuck over me. Maybe I’m special”

[quokkaholic]

Give Me Face l.f

Warnings: fluff, little angst, slightly suggestive, bi besties to ??, alcohol consumption, kissin and touchin, cussing duh

Synopsis: You have been really down lately, your best friend Felix notices and wants to go out to the club to snap you out of her slump. The club is filled with hot people and some jealousy ensues.

Song recommendation: MADRE by Young Miko and Villano Antillano

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

You’ve been rotting in bed all day and have no plan on moving for the rest of the night, that is, until you get a message out of the blue that Felix is on his way over. Flinging the covers off, you start frantically picking up the place. Your apartment is such a wreck you don’t even want your best friend to see it in this state, so instead of brushing your hair or changing the clothes you’ve been wearing for the past two days, you are shoving shit in your closet and shoddily loading the dishwasher. Before you even get the chance to pick up the food wrappers and takeout bags, Felix is opening the door with his spare key. He stands there in the doorway taking in the scene before tilting his head to the side and giving you a sympathetic look.

“Oh baby” he coos and closes the door behind him before opening his arms for a hug, and you immediately oblige. He mimics your tight squeeze as you nuzzle your face into his neck taking in his familiar scent: clean and floral with a touch of amber and musk.

“What are you doing here Lixie?”

“You’ve been slow to respond the past week and haven’t attended a single group hang in like a month. Come on girl, you think as your best friend I don’t know your signs that you’re down?”

You can’t help but grip tighter at his words. You are so lucky to have such a considerate and caring person as a best friend.

“Plus I have your location and saw you haven’t gone anywhere besides work and McDonalds in like 3 weeks. What's going on, babe?”

You spill your guts to him about problems at work and in your love life. Ever since you and your partner split 5 months ago, you have only had shitty dates and situationships, and the loneliness is now setting in. You know isolating yourself from your friends only makes the pain worse, but for some reason, it is just instinct when you start feeling bad to pull away. Luckily, Felix can always see through your bullshit.

“Y/nn, we need to get you out of this apartment. We need to get you out of your head too. Tonight we are going out! Don’t even try to fight me on this. Let's get ready.” He states, rushing back to your room. You follow quickly in toe, but when you get there, its too late, hes already pulling open your closet door.

“Felix no!” As the words leave your mouth, the mound of questionably clean clothes fall around his feet, and the room is filled with his sweet laughter and a few happy claps. You both rummage through your wardrobe looking for things to wear, trying on countless items making an even bigger mess than you began with. He lands on an outfit; after looking at himself in the full length mirror that hangs on the closet door, he turns to get your approval.

“How do I look?” He asks. You admire him for a moment. Felix looks so good in everything he wears, but there's something about seeing him in your clothes that makes your heart flutter.

“Honestly, cunt” He chuckles at your response then continues searching your drawers to help you with your look. His searching persists, tossing out options until finally finds what he’s been looking for, a sexy but elegant tank top you’ve had forever. With the shirt in hand, he strides over to where you sit on the bed surrounded by failed prospective outfits.

“I’ve always loved this one on you. Arms up” He instructs and slips the shirt over your head. You’ve always been comfortable around each other, being dressed by him just feels like second nature. There might’ve been some slight tension at first, but he has always so gracefully ridden the line between making you feel sexy and beautiful but also respected and appreciated. That is just one of the million reasons you love him. The love you feel for Felix is so deep, and your relationship is so special to you. You’re constantly pushing your romantic feelings down in the name of preserving what you have, too scared to take the risk of losing it. After pulling the shirt down and smoothing you the wrinkles, he offers you his hand to help you off the bed.

“Spin for me” he commands and you do just that. This wouldn’t be the first time you played dress up with him styling and you modeling for him.

“Stunning, y/n. Truly” He compliments, eyes raking over your form then landing intensely on your own. You don't give yourself time to feel the coyness rising up your spine, turning to your vanity and flicking on the light.

“Makeup time!”

You quickly style your hair in a way to keep it off your face and neck because you know you'll be sweating later and go to the kitchen to pour some pregame drinks for you both. You turn on some confidence boosting ‘feeling myself’ type of music and scoot next to Felix to share the mirror. Before starting your makeup, you order your ride to be there to pick you both up in an hour. You pass products back and forth and bounce along to the music occasionally using the brushes as microphones to sing along. He has already finished his makeup and is picking up clothes trying to undo the disaster you two created earlier.

“Lixie, will you do my eyeliner?”

He immediately drops what he was doing to aid you; his hands are gentle but firm as he cups your chin and tilts your head up. You feel your drink start to hit you as you hand him the black liner and stare up getting lost in the freckles peppering his cheekbones that he intentionally leaves uncovered and his sweet but alluring brown eyes.

“You gotta close your eyes, love” unable to think of an excuse, you just default to apologizing.

“Shit, sorry” You mumble as you lightly close your eyes so as to not create any creases giving him a smooth working surface. When you feel him lightly using his fingers to smudge the edges to match the smoky look of his own makeup, you know it’s safe to open your eyes again. When you do, you see Felix has lent down to get a closer look at his work. His eyes immediately snap to yours, and his smudging finger slowly drags down your cheek. It's as if you were both in a trance for a moment, and when you snap out of it simultaneously, you turn your head to look in the mirror and Felix shoots back up straight.

“I need another drink,” he says, heading back to the kitchen.

Your ride picks you guys up in front of your building, and drops you off not 10 minutes later at the club you and your friends used to frequent a few years ago. Felix is not a big club guy, really only going when you invite him, but when you do go out together, it is always a night to remember. Tonight was will be no exception.

The club is packed and bumping. Music blaring, lights flashing, and the smell of sweat and perfume think in the air. While you’re surrounded by strangers, the atmosphere is familiar and welcoming. You immediately open a tab at the counter close to the main dancefloor as that is where you plan to spend most of your night. It’s not that you need to be drunk in order to dance, but it definitely helps the “get out of your head” thing that Felix prescribed. You and Felix are quick to find a corner of the dancefloor to lay claim to and start dancing separately for now, but that won’t last. Felix gets very touchy when he drinks, yet another thing you love about him. You are both quick to down your drinks in order to free up your hands to dance. Taking the empty cup from your hand, he leaves you to toss them in the garbage with intent to return quickly. You dance by yourself for a minute, feeling the rhythm flow through you and bass thumping in your chest, arms raised in the air and occasionally caressing down your body in the most stereotypical club dance fashion.

A song or two later, you realize Felix hasn’t returned. It doesn’t take long scanning the crowd to find him still by the trash can being held there by a stunning creature of a man chatting and lightly brushing Felix’s arm with his hand. Felix is giggling at the man's words flashing his perfect pearly smile. The beat leaves your body and your movements slow coming to a halt for you to stare. Felix is such an angel in appearance and personality, it's surprising there isn’t a line forming to simply get a second of his time. While you feel that's what he deserves, you’re so glad it's just the one guy, but still, Felix is yours your best friend. This is your night with him.

When Felix’s eyes meet yours from across the room, his feet move without thinking carrying him to you while a genuine, playful grin spreads across his face biting his bottom lip. As he approaches, his steps become more rhythmic and he holds his hands out to you. Instead of remaining hand in hand to dance, he uses his grasp to spin you around, back to him. His hands grip your hips, and he helps you once again find the rhythm. Together, you start slow, rolling side to side on every other beat. Felix allows his hands to roam up and down your sides every now and again squeezing or sliding to your stomach to hold you back against him. When a faster tempo song comes on next, one of his hands slides up you back to rest on your shoulder, and he pulls you back into his chest and his lips graze the shell of your ear. You only get a few seconds to listen to his heavy breathing before you feel slight pressure pushing you to lean forward creating more direct contact of your ass on his front. Again his hands find your hips, this time less to guide you and more just to hold on as you grind back into him. You could’ve sworn you heard a groan that sounded a lot like Felix, but in the noisy environment, there's no way to be sure, and you sure as hell aren’t going to turn around to ask him.

This continues for a few songs, until the DJ turns plays a song neither of you are vibing to. You let Felix know you're going to run to the bathroom. Typically he would accompany you, but neither of you want to lose your spot. The line to the ladies room is surprisingly short, but the bathroom itself is unsurprisingly filthy. Two clogged toilets, a soapless hand rinse, and an obligatory drunk mirror selfie later you are ready to head back to Felix. Luckily you were prepared and brought your hand sanitizer with you. Trudging across the sticky floor and pushing through the building crowd, you finally make it back to the dance floor, but to your chagrin, someone is in your spot. An actual sex siren of a person is dancing next to Felix as they go back and forth speaking into each other ears behind cupped hands. Yet another party interested in your man. You're done being mad about it; you are ready to be sad about it, but instead of letting the rain clouds drown your fun, you decide its time for another drink. You find an empty spot to lean against the bar and wait for the bartender’s attention. When they finally approach, you graciously request another cocktail, but when they ask for the name on the tab the person next to you speaks up.

“Whatever she’s getting, put it on mine” The woman hands her card to the tender before turning to you.

“Are you sure?” you question, was your gloom written all over your face? She must’ve pitied you. She had been standing there the whole time, but you are just now noticing how handsome she is. She says nothing in response but holds eye contact and nods. Even if it was out of pity, you’ll always take a free drink. You thank her with a big grin.

“You have such a beautiful smile,” she says with a pleasant and sincere look. Oh. This isn't pity. She asks for your number; you maintain flirty banter waiting for your drinks, but once they arrive, you have to get back to Felix. This night is about spending time with your best friend not finding a rebound.

“You wanna dance?” She asks, gesturing back to the rolling crowd of bodies.

“Actually, I have to get ba…” You couldn’t finish refusing her offer as a hand grips the wrist of the hand not holding your new drink. Felix has his back to you dragging you back to the dancefloor. He forfeited your spot in order to steal you back. While you get pulled around, you chug your drink and toss the cup in a passing waste bin. When he finds an empty area, he stops and turns to you.

There is no playfulness left in his gaze, just a sultry glint as he drags his fingers across your collarbones and down your arm to your hand. Unlike the way he gripped your wrist, the way he intertwines your fingers can only be described as intimate. His touch is warm and bold as he spins around and raises your joined hands pulling you against his back. Just like he did to you earlier, you grip his waist and roll your hips with his. All inhibitions out the window. Your bodies moving as one, eyes closed, feeling his body on yours. The countless strangers fade away, and it's like it's just the two of you. Felix leans back into you dropping his head back onto your shoulder swaying his hips side to side. You think he’s saying something, but you can’t make out his words. You just let out a sound of agreement into his ear to appease him not wanting to stop dancing to try to figure it out. Despite your efforts to keep him grinding, Felix raises his head and turns to face you and throws his arms around your neck crossing his wrists in the back. You stand with your feet staggered with his to be as close as possible as you continue to dance together. Before you can really process, Felix is pressing his full and glossy lips to yours. His lips are salty from sweat but also sweet from his drink and lip oil and oh so rousing, causing your stomach to flip. Unlike other makeout sessions you’ve seen throughout the night, this one isn’t rough and needy, but passionate and sensual. The rhythm of the kiss matches the dance matches the song. You, again, are transported out of the club to somewhere just you and Felix can occupy made of your love and connection and desire. This isn’t the first time you’ve kissed Felix, but this kiss stands apart. It isn't the normal drunk kiss you share with your friends, it's so much more, fueled by fiery desire and years of longing. The kiss ends too soon as Felix leans his head on his upper arm that rests on your shoulder so his lips are inline with your ear. He whispers to you,

“Be mine y/n, please” He almost begs before placing a soft kiss to your earlobe and continuing,

“Be with me”

You don’t give a verbal answer but grab his flushed cheeks with both hands and peck his face with kisses before a final powerful one on the lips. Resting his forehead on yours, you’re both smiling so hard your cheek start to cramp. Thankfully, you both kept your drinking under control, perfectly walking the edge between tipsy and drunk, or you’d be scared this was an intoxicated dream or misremebrance. Felix already has his phone out ordering a ride to a nearby 24 hour diner to stave off your hangovers and chat about what the future has in store.

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A.n- thanks for reading :) I’m posting this on my lunch break lol.

-mo🪩

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