#She almost did! on a STAGE in front of a CROWD

[leaawrites]

What About Me?

Eli Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: Eli gets jealous over hearing her gush about her celebrity crush and finally confesses while Gracie Abrams is performing in the background.

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, (Spoiler: Paul McCartney is the celeb crush)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist, Inhaler Masterlist

The day had already been stressful as it was. Traveling from Germany to Glastonbury and playing a show on both days was visible in Eli's eyes as he woke that morning. Nevertheless he went on with his day like usual, as did the other lads. Sorting through Soundcheck and getting themselves ready before two pm.

Leaving her enough time to walk around the festival grounds and see acts of her own interest. Just making it back in time to watch the lads walk out on stage. Being friends with a bunch of losers back in school paid off in the end. Especially when you got to travel the world with your best friends and hear great music almost every night.

Standing at the side of the stage, she had the perfect view down on them. Singing and dancing to the songs she knew inside out even before they were released.

Eyes solely focused on them until they wandered off to the sides. Watching the crowd, watching them move freely and so unbothered. It almost envy filling her veins as most of the people by her side stood like chained to the ground. Until they went further to the right, catching sight of something that made her head turn straight in a second.

Paul McCartney, the man who still looked as good as in his twenties when he was 80 already, stood just a few meters away from her. Watching the same band she had been loving since day one. Clapping when they finished a song. Slightly moving to the beat of a few songs.

And the boy who once captured her attention by just standing in front of her, was now overshadowed by the man who made her fall in love with music.

And Eli noticed.

He noticed how she wasn't looking as excited as she did at the beginning. Her eyes drifting further away, taking her mind away from the now. Scraping the surface of a dream land. One he didn't understand.

Frowning at her unusual behavior, Eli looked back at the crowd. The people cheering for them pumping new adrenaline through his body but his mind stayed on the sidelines with one foot. Not quite letting her go as quickly as he probably should. A nervous worry taking over his nerve system for a second before disappearing again when he convinced himself he shouldn't feel like that.

Truth been told, he had been feeling the same nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he looked at her. Whether it was from across the room or from right beside her. It was always the same nervous break down in his heart.

After their set, they went on with their day. She seemed normal again, he didn't mention that he noticed and all they did was smile at each other, dance and sing. Acting like they were only some young adults enjoying good music.

"What's going on?" he finally asked later into the evening. Both of them sat on the grass, waiting for Bobby, Ryan and Josh to finish their food and decide what to do next.

She wore that distant look again and this time, he asked. Pushing his knee against hers, making sure she was listening to him and that she answered truthfully.

"Nothing," she brushed him off with a smile, but he knew better.

"What's going on with you? You've already been like this since our set," he noticed, finally bringing up the subject at hand.

And he saw it, the way her mind drifted back towards the moment her mind went astray.

"Did something happen?" His voice came out so soft it almost broke her heart to hear him sound so worried about her.

"Nothing happened," she assured him, resting her hand on his knee. Rubbing her thumb over his skin. "You know I like Gracie Abrams, right?"

The question caught him off guard. What did she have to do with all of that? Still he nodded his head.

"I really wanted to go see her set. But I bet you guys don't wanna see it. And if those guys don’t finally make up their minds on what they wanna eat, I think I will go feral," she explained. Leaning back, watching two girls pass them by with bows in their hair.

"I'll go with you."

Before she could even fully register his words in her mind, Eli was already on his feet. Offering his hand for her to stand up as well.

"You really don't have to, you know?"

"If you wanna go, I wanna go."

Walking over to the other lads, they quickly excused themselves. Walking around the grounds, her hands still tightly placed in his.

Using his slot at the festival to get further into the front, they found themselves behind baricades in a separated part of the crowd. Her standing in front of him. Fingers strumming on the metal bars.

The first few songs were fun. Loosening up from the difference in music taste and making Eli move when he didn't know the music. Swinging his arms and screaming the lyrics into his face until he could sing the chorus.

"He's still there, oh my god," she gasped, holding her hand over her mouth as she looked at the space where she once stood too. Watching the people behind the stage more than the woman in the spotlight. Or more like, one person.

"Who's still there?" Eli now looked there too, standing on his tip toes to get a better look. There were quite a few people in the space, who was she talking about?

This was it, he thought, looking back at her wide blown pupils and the smile fighting for existence on her face. This was the moment where he lost his chance completely to confess. This was the moment where he had to face the truth: they would never be meant to be. Not when he finally had her by his side and she was looking out for someone else. Someone she had first seen at his set.

"Paul McCartney! He's right there." Zooming closer to the background in the video she took, she showed him a combination of pixels he tried to identify. Looking between the very bad quality picture and the very far away real person. "He was also at your set and I couldn't believe it. I thought I was dreaming."

It felt like a torn was being ripped out of his heart. It was still bleeding, but it made him feel lighter. His chest loosing the tension between his ribs.

"I just watched Get Back while you were sleeping on the bus and I totally forgot how good he looked with that beard. Like, hello? How can anyone be allowed like that on the street? That should be illegal," she continued rambling. But next thing she said was what drove him over the edge. Her words almost forcing his thoughts out of his throat. "He's still hot though. Can you believe that?"

"What about me?" He asked it without thinking of the possible outcome. The way she could take it, interpret it. The way she could potentially see him now.

Turning her head from the stage towards him again, he was already looking down on her. Arms crossed over his chest.

"What?"

His words swam a marathon in her head. Pushing themselves from one check point to the other. Inevitably though, it was one line.

"What about- Are you not happy when you see me?" Keeping his eyes on the people behind her he tried keeping his demeanour as normal as he could. Shifting his weight from one side to the other.

Now it was her part to make him win the competition. Pushing him further.

"Of course, I am. But I've seen you every day since we were kids. You're not someone I only ever see or hear through my phone. You're real."

"And he's not?" He asked, thinking a joke would make this less nerve wracking. But the laugh she let out only made him spiral further.

It sounded like she already knew what he was on about. She knew what he was saying.

"That's Paul McCartney." She pointed to the stage. "He's this legend in my head that only ever existed out of my orbit. That's different."

"It would be pretty hard to date someone 'out of your orbit', right?" Looking at her expectatingly now, he could only focus on the way the corners of her lips etched up at his question. Scratching the back of his neck, he felt the knots in his stomach loosening when she said his name.

"Eli, he's 83. I'm not gonna date him." It sounded matter of fact, but you never know.

"I'm just saying, it's easier if you look for someone who's around you," he shrugged, leaning on the baricade, standing closer to her now.

Talking before she could interrupt and reject him. If he was going to confess, he was going to say everything that was on his mind. Not just what was on the surface.

"I'm standing right next to you. Not out of your orbit."

And then the string snapped. The water swapped over the edge of the pool, filling her head with all of it. Drowning her thoughts in his words and the rapid beating of her heart.

Taking his hands in hers again, she could feel his heart beating through his fingertips. Both syncing up at one single touch.

"You think, I don't get excited whenever I see you?"

"Do you?" He needed it. He needed the confirmation that it was the truth. He needed her to share what he had been surpressing for so long.

"I don't think there's ever been a time where I wasn't."

Raising herself on her tiptoes, she left himself hanging for a second longer, watching his lips twitch in amusement, before he pulled her in. Catching her lips in a kiss like she'd never felt it before. His hands finding themselves cupping her cheeks. Closing every little gap between them.

Butterflies flying through their pressed together chests. Exchanging emotions like they were letters. Making both feel more than they ever though possible.

And when both their heads came back to earth, they heard their surroundings again. The music flooding their veins.

'I'd bet all my money that I will lose to you and hand you my life. Here's to hoping you're worth all my time. […] Turn me into something tragic, just for you I let it happen.'

"The song kinda fits, huh? Like in a movie."

"And they say romance is dead."

"Heard something different there."

"What did you hear then?"

"Romance is a place," he said, smiling down at her. Pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "For me and you."

[solstrix]

Monster High March Day 9: An Underrated Character

Moanica could've been SUCH a good villain if they had only let her be/stay scary

[theorphicangel]

papa!kuna getting up on stage when his daughter has stage fright.

she's been excited about her solo for weeks now, the endless rehearsals in the front living room on an early saturday morning. you ran through her lines almost everyday and helped her recite the songs just before she fell asleep.

it had gotten to the point where sukuna was humming her recital song in his own fucking sleep. but anything to make his baby girl happy, right?

she had wanted everything to be perfect and was excited to impress her parents. the night before she had her outfit all ready and waiting on the chair beside her despite the recital not being until the next evening.

but now she stands under the headlights of the school stage with many eyes peering at her and the piano instrumental playing in the background.

you had your camera up and ready for her solo but suddenly you place it down once you realise your child has stage fright. her kindergarten teacher prompts her to start, replaying the chord but the words seem stuck in her throat.

you glance at sukuna with worry in your eyes and he glances back with his face deadpanned but you know he's panicking inside. your daughter fiddles with her hands becoming more anxious with every second passed on stage in complete silence.

it's one of the worst feelings to experience as a parent; the panic of not knowing what to do or how to comfort your child in a situation and to be honest your heart just breaks.

before your mind could even comprehend to go and pick up your daughter Sukuna stands up with urgency and walks over to the stage. the whispers and murmurs continue until you see your husband getting up on stage and joining your daughter.

he kneels down and whispers something in her ears before taking her hand. the two of them face the crowd and before you know it their lips begin to move in time with the piano instrumental.

your confusion melts into a smile once you realise that the sukuna ryomen is...singing. on stage in front of everyone. for his precious baby girl.

his voice is gruff compared to your daughter's sweet tone but he's in tune and on time with the lyrics. you had no idea he had learned the lyrics this well. the words came to him naturally with so much ease and perfect timing right and everything. he accompanies her throughout the whole song and you watch her pick up her confidence with her dad by her side.

they finish the song and the crowd of parents and kids on stage clap with cheers and whoops. and your husband and daughter take their well deserved bow. coming off stage sukuna is praised by all the parents out there, standing immediately and patting his back.

'i don't know what i would have done if it was my kid, good job out there'

'mr ryomen I didn't know you could sing'

'you two were great! you should be very proud of yourselves!'

they quickly find you through the crowd of parents reuniting with their own children and lift your daughter into a hug.

you kiss her chubby cheek and congratulate her for doing so well out there and she gives toothy smile, 'i couldn't have done it without papa.'

'that's true, my love.' you grin, 'but you did so well, m'so proud of you for being so brave.'

sukuna stands by awkwardly, a tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks as all eyes seem to be on him in the room. but he keeps his focus on his daughter and shuffles her pink hair, ' you did well brat.'

'thank you papa.'

after letting your daughter run off and wave goodbye to her friends for the night, you turn to sukuna with a grin.

'wow...I didn't know someone had a good singing voice.'

'yeah, yeah, just don't make a big deal about it.' he groans under his breath, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

‘mr popular huh’ you murmur, watching as parents continue to give their congratulations. 'don't let the fame rush to your head now, kuna'

'if she wasn't part of it i'd make you delete that goddamn video.'

you hum along, 'You know I'll rewatch it tonight.'

'whatever, knock yourself out.'

[sierrale8ne]

celibacy / paige bueckers x fem!reader PART OF THE $$$4U COLLECTION ‘ it’s been four months and two weeks and 36 hours and eight minutes since you been pleased ’

summary after finding out you ended your sexual arrangement with paige for work purposes, she takes it upon herself to show you how much she’s been missing you and how badly she’s been needing you. warnings paige is a hornball that can’t comprehend why you’d want to obtain from having sex, sexual content, packing, strap-on sex, strap-sucking, spitting, literal cum eating like… p is a freak. from lena i felt like bringing back some old pairings so this is p x that reporter i wrote about a minute ago ( in my main masterlist titled easy access ) this is nasty, i’m ovulating so there’s that.

Paige had been accustomed to the life that came with being a star athlete: wake up, practice, treatment, class, nap, lift, and if all of that was completed, the occasional media interview.

Today was one of those days.

Her practice jersey is damp against her body, the navy blue compression shirt underneath clinging to her arms as she answers question after question. Tournament seeding, last year, the draft next month. All of it is the same, just enough for her to know exactly what to say and when to say it.

She stands patiently, arms crossed over her chest as she waits for the next question. And then it comes.

“Paige, is there any advice you’ve given your teammates— specifically Sarah and Jana— about how to handle the tournament now that they’re in it?”

Paige freezes.

It’s your voice, she’s known it well enough to be able to point it out in a crowd full of all other reporters. A voice she’s heard so many times that it became burnt into her brain— every tone, every shift.

You dig your way through to the front, and when Paige sees you— like really sees you for the first time in months— it’s the first time all day that her demeanor shifted. She’s always loved your work attire and how you prided yourself in looking your best. But today you’ve dressed down and she still thinks you look perfect. Low rise washed denim, New Balance sneakers on your feet, and a white shirt with some writing on the left shoulder that she can’t quite make out.

“I’m sorry, can you ask that again? I zoned out for a minute.” Paige clears her throat. The other reporters laugh but you stay focused, it your first media availability with Paige. You knew better than to crack, especially now. So you repeat the question, poised as ever and honestly Paige is a little shocked. She thought if anything you’d be just as off your game as she was. But you weren’t.

She stutters, and it’s so small that you almost miss it, but she answers anyways. “Just to embrace the moment. Pressure is a privilege, and they came here to preform on the biggest stage—” Her eyes bore into your own, blue like large pools of cerulean. The same eyes that once made you give up everything, toss away your morals, and submit to her. “— and we all got total confidence in them. Hopefully that translates to them having total confidence in themselves.”

You nod, thinking about how generic her answer was and how your boss would probably have something to say back at the office. It seemed like she always did, but that’s what came with being an intern, you’ve learned.

Media availability ends, and you are very glad that Paige was the last to be interviewed because you can’t wait to get away from her fucking gaze. You cut the recording on your phone, shoving it in the back pocket of your jeans, followed by sticking your notepad and pen in your purse.

You follow suit with everyone else, turning towards the practice facility’s exit doors to head back to the office. Until your stopped, a hand to your lower back that send a rush to your core.

You’re reminded of the first time. The way you danced against her at Ted’s her hand on your back, bending you over as you twerked her jeans, the feeling of the zipper against your ass. How she took you home, made your legs shake and your toes curl, just to become even more vulnerable with you in bed hours later. You learned a lot about Paige that night.

You learned even more about yourself.

That no matter what, as long as she was around you’d never be able to resist her.

It’s exactly why you turn towards face her right now, you hands cautiously gripping your purse and the other raking through your hair.

“Look who finally came to see me.” Paige’s nails rake along your skin, dangerously drawing you closer and closer to her.

You feel your knees getting weak already. She smells surprisingly good considering she just got out of practice, she looks even better. But you can’t. “Stop.” You groan, reaching back to brush her hand off.

“I’m just checkin’ on you, you good? It’s been a while.” Paige says, her voice sultry and a bit cheeky. She’s priding herself on the fact that she still has you like this.

“Paige, we’re not doing this here. I’m at work.” It reminds you of what you said the last time you had her. MSG in New York, another day you were supposed to be focused on work that ended up with Paige’s hand in your pants.

She nods, pretending to understand but the look on her face lets you know she’s thinking about anything but. “Okay, then come over later.”

The blonde had a way of making you go speechless every time you saw her, but right now you were literally at a loss for words. You made it clear when you cut her off— Paige was a distraction— so for her to stand here, so hellbent on getting you alone, in a way she once had you, was ridiculous.

You scoff, looking around at the now filing out hallway. You drag her off, fingers digging into the bicep that’s so fucking big you nearly are taken aback by it. “I’m not having sex with you, P. It’s done, you know that.”

“You’re tellin’ me whoever else you’re sleeping with makes it feel as good as me? Y’know that’s bullshit, ma.” She goes on, and you take a step back for your own sanity. A response bats around in your brain, you shouldn’t tell her the truth, she would get too confident. Too cocky. You didn’t need that.

It came out anyway, like word vomit. “I’m fucking celibate, Paige, there isn’t anyone else.” You grit through your teeth.

Paige’s eyes nearly glow and her mouth curls up into his God awful smirk that you’d want to slap off if she wasn’t so damn sexy. “You? You’re playin’.”

“I’m not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish.” You mutter, walking across the hallway to the elevators plans sweating as you do what you know best. Work.

Your night ends with a much needed bath, soaking in the hot tub to soothe yourself of all the stress piled up throughout the day.

And the tension that only Paige Bueckers could give you.

She was good, you had to give her that. And what made it worse was that it was effortless. Paige didn’t have to say too much, or even touch you. All she needed was one moment, one instance where your demeanor shifts and your strength cracks and all of a sudden you’re her’s again.

You couldn’t shake your mind of her even if you tried.

And it made your core fucking throb.

When you finally do exit the bath— legs a bit sore from the attention you had given yourself between your legs— you cater to yourself. Legs smooth, and body smelling of sweet vanilla cashmere. You throw on some cute pajamas, matching silk with a top that fits you loosely. The plan is to get in bed, until you hear a knock at the door.

You trail to the door, manicured feet padding against the hardwood.

And then you open it.

And there she is.

At first, it’s like your mind is playing tricks on you. Because it’s been forever, and no one in their right mind would show up to their old fuck buddy’s apartment at this hour. Paige seems to be the exception.

She wears these dark grey Essentials sweatpants, slightly dirty and scuffed on the hems. They sag just enough for you to see a small edge of her Nike Pro’s when she lifts her arm over her head and her fingers run through her hair. Her hoodie matches, and that makes your knees buckle. The dark fabric makes her skin and hair look even brighter.

“Why are you here?” You sigh before she even gets a chance to speak. Being mean about it seems to be the only way you can think of to get her out. It’s for your own sanity anyway. You’ve never been able to rid her off for as long as you and Paige have known each other.

Obviously, you don’t know Paige.

Because she finds that so fucking attractive.

Paige bites her lip, trailing her eyes to your shoulder where the strap of your shirt has fallen. “I’m still on this celibacy thing. Like, are you sure? And why the hell would you want to do that?”

You have to laugh, because it’s hysterical that your vow to stay away from sex had UConn’s star player unable to think straight.

“Paige, I—”

“Seriously, we’re not having sex anymore because of what? Did I do something wrong? Am not doin’ it right, you gotta tell me.” Paige is babbling, and it makes you so embarrassed that you tug her inside the apartment before your neighbors can hear about it.

It’s unfathomable to you. “I didn’t think it was that hard for you to find someone else to sleep with, Paige.”

“It’s not! But you cut me off, and the first time I see you again you’re talkin’ bout some celibate. So, naturally I’m curious.” Paige attempts to explain, hands moving freely in the air as she talks and you stare at them the entire time. Her knuckles slightly red from the cold, veins adorning the back of her hand, and her long ass fingers. It was a taunt. As soon as you made it clear that you weren’t going, here she was. Testing you.

You take a step back, as if the distance would give you a clear head. “You’re a distraction.”

“What?”

“A distraction.” You speak up. “I can’t do my job with you texting me and telling me all the ways you want me in bed. I literally couldn’t focus.” You explain, and now that it’s said out loud you feel ridiculous.

Paige Bueckers was so good at fucking you, that it made it hard for you to do your job.

The blonde lets out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms down on your counter and leaning against it.

“You happy now?” You respond, sighing loudly.

“Ma—”

“No.” You cut her off quick. This is exactly how it went last time. And this time you had half a mind to know better.

“Let me get you there, baby. No distractions this time, I swear.” She murmurs, voice low and almost strained— hours of practice for the tournament to blame. “No way you don’t want it, ma, just please.”

Paige is walking towards you now, hands reaching for your hips and you let her. You actually don’t even think about moving. You can smell her cologne, warm and woodsy, sticking to the fabric of her clothes. Her hands trail off you to the hem of her hoodie, pulling it up and over her head.

Your eyes trail to the ground it falls on almost immediately, because Paige’s choice of a thin tank top and no bra leaves very little to your imagination.

“What do you want, ma?”

A whimper flies from your lips as her hand grips your chin, fixing you to look at her. Your hand grips her shirt for leverage, clinging to what’s left of your morals.

That’s when she knows she has you exactly where she wants you.

“Hmm? What do you want?” Paige repeats, dragging your hand down her abdomen until it rests at her sweatpants. And you feel it. Her sweats were baggy enough to conceal it, but as soon as you feel the length in your palm it’s clear that Paige was thinking about you the same way you were thinking about her in the bath. “You want it? ‘Cause y’know I’m always ready to give it to you.”

“I want it.” You whine, snaking a hand up to her neck, tugging her close to you.

Her breath fans your lips, a smile gracing her face that doesn’t even try to hide. “Yeah? Break this li’l streak you got goin on?” Her hand tugs your shirt strap lower down your arm, and the second it’s reached the furthest it could go you’re slotting your lips with hers.

She tastes like everything you’ve remembered her to be, minty but still sweet. Her lips are soft, vaseline smeared on them and transferring to your chin. You continue palming the strap through her sweats, and Paige groans like it’s an extension of herself.

“Want you.” You moan.

“I know. I got it, baby. I gotchu.”

Paige’s strap sits on your tongue as you greet it with tiny kitten licks. You should’ve known that Paige would’ve made your work for it after leaving her to dry for months. Which truly wasn’t your intention. Paige was attractive, women wanted her, and you expected her to get it elsewhere.

Obviously not.

Her back is flush to your couch, shirt hiked up to give you a view of her hardened nipples and perfect fucking abs. You grip the base, spit trailing down the length that you take into your mouth.

“Mhmm, put that fuckin’ mouth to work, baby. Lookin’ so sexy f’me.” She hums, pushing your still slightly damp hair out of your face.

You plant your hands to her thighs, taking the strap deeper just to prove that you can. A part of you thinks you enjoy showing out for Paige like this again, doing what she wanted when she wanted.

Her eyes flutter shut like she can feel your mouth, the warmth of your tongue running on the underside of her cock— and if she closes her eyes hard enough, she probably could. But the vibration is good enough.

“Four months. Four and a half fuckin’ months.” Paige says to herself between breaths.

You pull back to breathe, saliva connecting your lip to the tip. You’re completely mesmerized by her, you vulnerable she looks even when you’re the one on your knees with her cock in your mouth. You spit on it again, sucking it back into your mouth before taking the strap in again. You’re sure that Paige’s eyes roll into her head.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy.” She grunts, hips moving forward further towards you. “Gonna paint your face, I swear.”

Paige’s words send a throb to your cunt. You can almost picture it— her groans and slack jaw as she comes. You draw your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit that’s still covered by your pj’s. The stimulation makes you whine.

“That shit turns you on, ma? Just know you’re so fuckin’ wet.” Paige hums to herself. She decides to reach for your hair, tugging you up and off of her strap until you’re hovering over her.

Saliva dangles from your lip, and in her obvious lust, Paige sticks her tongue out. You’re left speechless. Paige was a freak, you knew that much, but she’s chasing after your fucking spit like she’s thirsty for it. Like she was dying in the desert and you were the only one to solve her thirst.

She almost slurps it up, the noise so vulgar that you moan in her face. Paige chases after your mouth, locking lips with you in a deep kiss. Your hips grind against the strap, paying no mind to the mess it’s going to create on your shorts.

“Need it inside me, P.” You plead.

“Celibate my fucking ass.” She groans against you, using her strength to push you to the other end of the couch. Her hands dig into your hips, clawing at your shorts so hard that you’re sure she’s going to rip them off of you.

You’ve never seen Paige like this, this needy, this horny. She dragged your mouth onto her cock with a fervor that was animalistic. Then now, her teeth nipping at your own lips so hard she might draw blood.

It’s hot.

It makes you upset that you held out on her for this long.

Paige’s hands slip to your shoulders, pushing the other strap down your arm and putting your tits on display for her. She breaks the kiss, lips trailing down your jaw, neck, and chest before finally reaching your nipple.

“Paige!” You moan, head thrown back in ecstasy as she pulls your shorts off next.

“No crotchless this time?” She jokes, making you think back to the last time she fucked you stupid. It gets her off, watching how desperate you are for her to make you come.

“I need you to fuck me,” You whine desperately, hand fisting a handful of Paige’s perfect blonde hair. “Please,” you beg. Your hips grind against the unbelievably long strap, almost as if they had a mind of their own.

“I like it when you beg.”

“I know.” You tug your black panties to the side. Paige smirks at how soaked you are, the way your slick drips through your folds. “Want your cock, P. Please.”

With your help in spreading your legs Paige is tapping the tip against you. The wetness of your pussy filling her ears like the sound of music. Your mouth falls agape at the sudden pressure. and she takes the opportunity to fill your mouth with her own spit. A fat glob falling on your tongue and you swallow it almost immediately.

“Tell me you want it again.”

You sob, body aching in need. “I want it, I want it, Paige.”

Without hesitation, the athlete thrusts forward, burying all eight inches balls deep inside you. It’s so foreign, months of being away from her to blame. A collective gasp escapes both of your mouths. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head while her mouth formed the perfect ‘O’. Paige eyes you like a piece of meat before connecting your lips again in a heated frenzy. Your back arched into Paige’s as she gripped your hips and began roughly pounding into your cunt.

“You hear her? Just screamin’ for this dick, baby.” Paige hums, her words sending a rush of more arousal out of you. A mixture of pleasure and ecstasy spread across your features as Paige established a fast and relentless pace. “You’re so fuckin’ easy.”

“Baby—”

She breaks the kiss. “Imma distraction, but you can’t get off without me. Can’t make this pussy cum the way I do.” The couch practically groans in protest, its durability tested as Paige’s grunts reverberated against your lips. The room filled with the intoxicating sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping together in a sensual symphony that echoed off the walls.

You watch Paige tuck her shirt in her mouth, giving her a perfect view of not only where she digs you out, but your tits that bounce in her face.

She’s fucking the shit out of you. And that alone is enough to draw her close to that climax.

“Y-you— Paige, baby. You’re fuckin’ deep, fuckkkk!” Your eyes were tightly shut, face contorted in pure bliss as you cling to the blonde with every fiber of your being. Your legs wrapped around Paige’s thighs, ensuring that she couldn’t escape your embrace. “F-fuck! P!” You cry out.

“Fuck you stupid, yeah? Put yo’ ass to sleep. Make it feel so fucking good, huh?” She roughly pushed the fabric of your shirt over your head. The fabric slipped away, leaving you fully exposed. “Cover me in it, cum on me, ma.”

You want her closer, deeper, anything. So you wrap your arms around her neck, tugging the blonde so close that your forehead touches hers. She keeps thrusting, seemingly noticing that you needed more.

“I know you’re close.” You murmur, trying your hardest to keep your eyes focused on her. “Paige, oh my Goddddd—”

“Y—shit.” Paige’s legs tremble, and you notice the slight falter in her rhythm. “Fuck, you first.” She lets out a groan, followed by a chase of your lips. It’s soft, way softer than how she fucks you.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming— I’m gonna cum, baby.” You babble over and over, your resolve fleeting your body as your orgasm creeps up on you. Paige lets out a high pitched gasp, her face flushed with overwhelming pleasure.

She tried to hold back, to maintain her composure, but failed miserably. A moan of pure bliss escaped her lips as she thrusts once more, practically balls deep into you as she comes. You let out a moan yourself as you feel the warmth taking over your body.

Paige doesn’t pull out, only pulling back enough to swipe her fingers over the ring of come that you’ve left behind. She brings her fingertips to her mouth, riding them out your taste.

“You left me out to fucking dry for four damn months?” Paige asks, her breathing labored from the exertion. She brings her hand down to your cunt, clit completely swollen. Almost desperate. “Left me without this shit for too long, ma.” She mumbles around her hand yet again.

She’s cleaning you up with her fingers, every bit of your release finding her tongue in almost desperate sweeps. You whine at the sensitivity, but let her.

Because it’s Paige, and you can’t fucking resist.

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @d3arapril @wbbgetsmewetter @tndaqlwifwy @ykylalex @ohmybueckers @flipthepaige @janaelalfysblunt @cherryswisherz @courtsidewithlani @vamptizm @bdbueckers @makethemhoesmad @unadulteratedcyclepaper @omg-imtumbling @avvwritesstufff @luvnoirs

[winnie1emon]

✧.* what happens if you see your ex-boyfriend, theodore nott, at a halloween party?

ex!bf!theo x fawn!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.7k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, tit sucking/fondling, oral sex (f receiving), praise, rekindling

a/n: last minute, sleep deprived, and not proof-read halloween treat ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

You stirred awake as you heard your dorm room's door click shut and saw a glimpse of your roommate's hair disappearing from view. She was undoubtedly headed to the infamous yearly Halloween party in the Room of Requirement.

You had previously declined her offer to go with her, deciding to spend most of your time moping over your ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott.

Two weeks prior you had your heart broken when you called things off with him. Your peers had convinced you it was the right thing to do at the time as he never paid you any attention, seemingly avoiding you constantly for no good reason, sometimes days at a time. Although you initiated the separation, you wasted no time in mourning the early stages of your relationship; the moments where you would be alone with him, talking to him, kissing him, and the times you guys almost said you loved each other.

You fluffed up your pillows, preparing yourself to lay down and think of Theodore until you slept like you had been doing for the past week when you heard more shuffling outside your dorm room. It seemed like everybody would be attending the Halloween party.

Dreading the idea that he'd probably be wooing someone new, you sat back up and groaned, forcing yourself up onto your feet and into your bathroom. You stared back at yourself in the mirror; puffy-eyed and your nose tinged pink. You felt the sudden urge to go, feeling your time would be better spent seeing a few familiar faces and dancing out your blues.

You had a small problem though.

You vaguely recalled seeing the bustling students leave wearing costumes, but given the spontaneous nature of your new feelings, you had nothing to wear. You tentatively looked around your bathroom and then at your full dorm, hoping for a costume to spawn from thin air. Biting your lip, your eyes landed on a headband of fuzzy deer ears and short plush antlers.

Theodore had bought you the headband in Hogsmeade during your first date as a way to poke fun at your meek demeanor. You contemplated wearing the headband, allowing yourself a quick Halloween if you simply did the makeup. Against your better judgment, you put it on before propping yourself in front of your vanity to do the deer makeup you so saw often on your Pinterest feed. Luckily, your closet consisted of many warm browns with white accents, granting you the ability to not have to freak over finding matching clothing.

You took a final breath before walking out the door, headed towards an evening of branching out.

--------------------------------------------------------

Theodore's gaze lingered around the room, his face stoic, as he seemingly tried to look for someone.

"Someone missing his girl?" Draco teased, pinching his cheek.

Shoving him lightly with his shoulder, Theodore turned his face towards his pestering friend. "Don't smudge m'fucking makeup." He groaned inwardly as he saw no sign of you after his eyes finished their fourth round around the room. "I'm not looking for anyone either. Don't got a girl."

"Ohh yeah, we forgot," Lorenzo snorted beside him. Theodore seemed unamused, brushing past him and bumping his shoulder on the way.

"Seems angry," Blaise said, stifling a laugh.

"Would be too if I lost what he did," Draco shrugged.

Theodore Nott stalked around the perimeter of the large crowd, avoiding the large wings and costumes present. He took a swig out of his red solo cup, about to give up before seeing you walk in.

Seeing your face illuminated in the party's dim lighting, his lips parted slightly, soaking in the way you looked so graceful when entering, yet so lost.

Your headband piqued his interest. His brows furrowing, he tilted his head slightly to get a better view. Definitely his.

You walked around the room, the heel of your shoes clicking. You caught a glimpse of someone with their face completely obscured by their skeleton makeup, but there was no mistaking those eyes.

No way were you going to purposefully talk to him, the sting of your breakup still apparent. You headed towards the drinks, acting as if you were in your element when truth be told, you didn't care for drinking. You stood awkwardly at the table, looking for your friends to no avail.

You saw him striding towards you in the corner of your eyes and quickly scattered to an area with a larger crowd. Planning to circle back to the drinks table to throw him off, you weaved through the people, getting small peeks at different costumes; an American cowboy, a devil, and a very strange furry octopus.

You grabbed a red cup from the table, bringing the emptiness to your lips to fake a sip, your eyes scanning the room intensely, relieved that you lost him.

Your heart was beating faster than usual, a small bead of sweat forming on your forehead. You adjusted the headband to not fall off and straightened your top.

Coming was a mistake. The dark lighting made it difficult for you to locate your friends, Theodore was looking as handsome normal as ever, and the room seemed to shrink with each step you took.

A bit jumpy from nervousness, you started to fill a cup of oddly green punch before feeling a large hand clamp down on your wrist. Flinching, you immediately looked at the one responsible and met their piercing blue eyes.

"Avoiding me?" he said.

The way he said it like he didn't really care, only bothering to use two words like you both hadn't been pretending not to stare at each other for two weeks made you uneasy.

Pulling your hand away, you swallowed before answering. "No."

Your voice made him smile, his face clearly finding humor in your denial.

God, he looked so handsome with the skull makeup.

He placed his hands on both of your shoulders, pulling slightly away from you to get a better view of your face. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"

Unconvinced by him, you looked at him suspiciously, your body taut. "No," you said again. Frowning slightly, he dropped his hands to his side and said,

"I'm serious. I really did."

Your face started to heat up and you bit the inside of your cheeks to contain yourself. You knew that if you didn't restrain yourself, you would immediately jump up into his arms and embrace him like old times.

"Okay," you said quietly. "That's cool." You tried to sound casual, pretending like you didn't notice his gaze flickering to your deer ears and antlers.

"I like the uh, the makeup," he complimented you, gesturing towards his own face.

"Same to you. Skull-- very nice." You nodded slowly, unsure of the conversation's direction.

"Thanks. That mine?" he asked you, pointing at your headband.

Turning pink, you gave a small chuckle. "Uh yeah, just you know--" you said dismissively. "No costume..."

"Ah, I see I see. So, you here with someone?"

"No, no I'm not." You felt a bit surprised by his question, it seemed somewhat bold in a way. You both stood around some more, staring at each other and then looking away only to subtly shift your arms together.

"Alright well, I'm gonna ask you again," he suddenly spoke up. "Did you miss me?"

You didn't want to answer him truthfully, yet you didn't want to just lie to him.

"I did."

It seemed as though those two words were all he needed to hear to do what he did next. Immediately moving his hands to your face, he leaned into a kiss, wasting no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth. It was far more different than the kisses you guys shared before, this time it felt like your mouths were on fire and the other person's was water; the only way to extinguish it. Your hands were still at your side, allowing him to do most of the work.

Pulling away, you swallowed thickly, trying to process what had just happened. He gave a small, amused huff before dropping his head down to face the ground as you stood there dazed.

"I don't think we should..." you started, trying to find the words. "Like just not here right...?"

Theodore looked at the lively party and nodded as he looked back at you. "You're right. Let's find someplace else."

He grabbed your hand lightly, walking you out the door, and leaving the party. You weren't sure why, but you let him, trailing behind him, trying to keep your steps light in the corridors.

"Come on, there's this classroom-- always unlocked," he smiled at you. "Bit far though," he added. You didn't mind. The anticipation and excitement of getting back with Theodore fogged your mind, shooting out every other piece of information that ever resided in your brain.

He brought you to the stairs and you started to descend, but your heels echoed loudly. "Careful, it's past curfew," he said, bringing a finger to his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry!" you whispered. "I can't it's my shoes."

Theodore stopped mid-step and so did you. His head darted around in all directions looking to see if someone was approaching. "Up you go," he said. Before you could possibly protest, he picked you up off the ground, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. He placed one of his hands around your back to support you, the other on your ass.

Despite the extra weight, he seemed to have no problem walking at his normal speed, quickly going down the many flights of stairs until you both reached the ground floor. He opened the door to a classroom, shutting it behind you guys before placing you to sit on the teacher's desk in the front of the room. You observed the classroom, your mouth slowly growing wider.

"Theo-- this is McGonagall's room! She's going to fucking kill us!"

He shook his head to reassure you. "She's not going to find out, don't worry."

You looked uncertain and he said nothing, trying to give you some time to believe him.

"Theo?" you piped up.

"Mm?" he answered, leaning on his hand placed on the table you sat on.

"Why did we break up?" you asked him.

He had a smirk on his face, but you could tell he felt as bad as you did. "What do you mean? You broke up with me."

"No I mean, why did we break up? Why did you start acting like that?" You drew invisible circles on the desk, adverting eye contact.

"I was an idiot," he scoffed. "I just- I just got scared. Always felt bad you were too good for me," he said, starting to get agitated with himself. "You're so sweet you know. I'm," he shrugged. He cupped your face with his hands, making you look at him.

"Didn't wanna drag you down with me."

You opened your mouth again to argue, but he brought his finger to your lips before leaning back in for another kiss. You felt his hands all over your body and you brought yours to his jawline. The kisses started soft, clean. But they became sloppy as he went down to kiss your neck.

"I'll be different now," he breathed out. "I promise."

His kisses grew more intense and you couldn't help but let out low whimpers as he reached the top of your chest. He took your shirt off, taking a step back to admire the view of you in your lacy white bra. He unclasped your bra, hanging it on the handle of McGonagall's closet next to her desk.

Never having gotten this far in your previous relationship, he gave a low gasp, cupping one of your tits in his large hands. Fondling you lightly, he then pinched a nipple between his fingers, suppressing his laughter as he watched you squirm on the desk. He bent over slightly taking the other nipple in his mouth.

Having his hand on your tit, combined with him gently sucking the other, you gave out quiet moans, clawing at the edge of McGonagall's desk. Pulling his head away, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to your nipple, he stood back up, bringing his hands to your waist.

He pulled your skirt down your thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. He kneeled down on the ground, shuffling closer to you.

The sight of his face between your legs, his face with the skeleton makeup on, practically had you shaking in excitement. He kept his eyes on you the whole time; as he moved the underwear sticking to your wet cunt aside, lightly trailed a finger over your wet folds, and as he moved his head closer, slipping his hot tongue into you.

"Mmm, T-theo..." you whined as he brought his tongue deeper inside of you. He flicked his tongue around, exploring freely, the sounds coming out sounding far more erotic than what you were used to.

His tongue slipped out of your cunt, and he used it to circle around your clit, eliciting shaky moans from your mouth as you bought your hands to his hair. Your eyes began to water and you felt your orgasm nearing. About to crush his skull with the way you wanted to squeeze your thighs together, your legs shook against the sides of his head.

Theodore placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs further apart, continuing to travel around your folds with his tongue with increased speed. Before you could orgasm, he pulled away suddenly, making you whine loudly in surprise.

"Theodore..." you said, tugging on his hair. He stood up and began to unbuckle his belt, slipping his pants off.

"Be patient sweetheart," he smiled. His boxers fell down his legs next, his glistening cock springing out. You placed your hands behind your back on the desk to support yourself as you stayed seated and he guided the tip of his cock with your entrance.

You felt a bit afraid, this being your first time having sex with Theodore, and it seemed like he could tell because he tilted your chin up softly and said, "I'll go slow okay?"

You nodded sheepishly, letting him push into you slowly. A tear rolled down your face, some of your deer makeup coming off. He let out a guttural moan as he inserted his large cock fully into your cunt, beginning to move slowly in and out of you.

"F-fuck," you whispered. He found your reaction cute when you looked wide-eyed at him, face contorting with pleasure.

"Got it?" he asked you. You nodded quickly, giving him the message that you were okay. "Yeah, yeah... you can take it," he whispered in your ear.

He went at a moderate pace, not wanting to overexert you for your first time.

"Theo-- Theo!" you huffed out. He stopped, backing away so that only the head of his cock was still in your sopping cunt.

"Yeah, what's up? Are you okay?" he said in concern.

"Faster..." you requested meekly. "Please?"

Surprised but not complaining, he gave a lowly chuckle, practically grinning from ear to ear.

"If that's what my good girl wants."

He increased his pace, thrusting into you quickly. Your soaking folds allowed him back in every time he pulled out. He took your tits into his hands again, twisting and pinching as he simultaneously pumped in and out of you.

Both of your moans filled the room; his low and paced, yours messy and uncontrolled.

You neared an orgasm again and you could tell he was about to come as his hair became mussed and a light layer of sweat glistened on him.

"Shit... Do you want me to come inside? Is that what you want?"

"Y-yes!" you answered desperately. Your legs shook and you threw your head back as your orgasm washed over you, his following suit right after.

His ropes of release filled your insides, beginning to seep out. He pulled out, looking at the mess he made you. He readjusted the headband on you.

"I love you."

You looked at him, mouth somewhat agape before uttering, "I love you too."

He grabbed your head, planting a kiss on your forehead before helping you off the desk and onto your feet. You looked at him hesitantly.

"Does this mean I'm your girl again?"

"Well..." he feigned uncertainty, giving you a gallic shrug.

"Don't tease..." you complained, leaning into him.

"Sorry, y'know I can't help it," he grinned. "And you never stopped being my girl."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[woollypoison]

Pearl Necklaces

IVE wonyoung x reader (but also all of IVE is in this so...) a/n: I've had this idea of starting a fic with a terrible blowjob for a really long time already. I woke up really horny with tons of free time on my hands and with the puzzle pieces clicking in my head. Thank you, wisdom teeth removal surgery. Anyways, I KNOW I promised full focus on itzy miniseries next AND YOU'LL GET IT!!! I'm working really hard on it, just accept this little out of control dribble as a free gift. Shout out to @valentinedrifter and @kwilquib for the beta read, much love amigos <3333 Word count: 2.2k

This is, by far, the worst blowjob you’ve ever had.

Wait, does this even count as a blowjob? Wonyoung’s just sitting there, knees on the floor, legs spread apart. Her tongue’s out, sure, and the tip of it is touching the underside of your cockhead. The eye contact is making it work, and the way she’s jackhammering her own cunt is a sight to behold, but can you really call it a blowjob if the only thing rubbing your cock is your own hand?

Isn’t this more like an assisted hand job?

“Can you hurry the fuck up? I have to be out—on fucking stage—in 10 minutes in front of a crowd full of horny college students,” Wonyoung barks at you, retracting her tongue, causing you to whimper for losing the only source of contact you still had. “And you know I orgasm a lot faster with a load on my face.”

“I’m sorry Wony, but this is my fourth time already today. I’m not some endless fountain of sperm,” you say. “It would go a lot faster if you helped out some more.”

“What the fuck do you mean, fourth time today?! You should be saving up for me, you dog!”

“It’s not my fault,” is the weakest form of an excuse you could come up with. You’re IVE’s manager. It’s all your fault. “First was this morning… You know how ridiculous Gauel’s been lately.”

And of course she knows. Gaeul’s been playing the part of a bratty sleeping beauty.

“I can’t believe that bitch is still saying she refuses to wake up unless you cum on her face,” she spits back, and it really does sound ridiculous when she says it out loud.

“What about the other two?”

“Well,” you start, but you already know you’re going to get chewed out. “I was having trouble getting everything ready to wake Gaeul up—”

“Just like you are now, right.”

“Right. And I accidentally left the door open, and when Yujin saw me struggling, she came to help out.”

Wonyoung rolls her eyes with a sharp flick, finally sticks her tongue out again but still too far to touch, and twitches her eyebrows to let you know to continue.

“She helped jerk me off onto Gaeul’s face. Said it was her responsibility as a leader as well.”

“That still makes just one load blown, right?” Wonyoung intervenes.

“Yeah, I’m getting there,” you continue, seeing the way her eyes refuse to let you know she’s really enjoying your retelling of the defiling of her members, but doing a terrible job at keeping it hidden.

“After I came on Gaeul, Yujin dragged me out towards her room. Said she was expecting a ‘give and take’ for her help.”

“What kind of ‘give and take’?”

You sigh. She pretends to want to chastise you, but with the way her hand is pounding into her sloppy cunt beneath you and how she’s dripping on the floor, it’s obvious to see. She’s just getting off on this. “I ate her out until she came and then she jerked me off onto her face. Load two.”

“That slut,” Wonyoung murmurs with a smirk. “What about the last one?”

“Okay, I admit, this one might be my fault,” you meekly let out. Wonyoung raises one eyebrow, like she can’t wait to find out what kind of dumb shit you did. “I was helping Rei and Liz clean up the breakfast table, and they were talking about what kind of snack they could still have.”

“Okay?”

“So I jokingly said I had a delicious snack tucked away in my pants for them.”

Wonyoung looks at you like you’re an actual idiot. Look. You might be. “You’re serious?” she asks, almost in disbelief.

“I didn’t expect them to jump me like that. It only took a couple of seconds before they had my dick sandwiched in between their lips,” you explain, getting lost in the thought of how great they felt.

“You’re a pervert,” she snidely remarks.

“God they looked good, licking my seed off of each other’s faces. IVE really is the best…”

Your reminiscing and your pace get interrupted as the door behind you opens, and Leeseo pops her face in with a loud message. “Wonyoung-unnie, it’s 5 minutes till showtime,” she cheers gleefully before opening her eyes, and taking in the sight. You, towering over Wonyoung with your cock out, her on her knees with her mouth open.

“Get the fuck out, can’t you see we’re busy? I’ll be right there,” Wonyoung snaps at Leeseo.

Leeseo just holds her hand in front of her mouth in mock surprise. She giggles a small melody to your ears, before taking her leave, but not without a final remark. “Okay, but don’t forget I finally get manager tonight. Don’t wear him out too hard for my first time, please!”

Wonyoung rolls her eyes again, and looks towards you as you slowly start pumping your cock again. “So, where were we? You were telling me about how you already came three times today, and making excuses for why I’m still waiting for my share.”

“It’s a lot faster if you help, Wonyoung…”

She gasps in shock, looking at you like you’re not only an idiot, but actually insane now. “There’s no fucking way I’m touching your filthy cock. Not after everywhere it’s been today.”

“I don’t think I can finish in time if it’s by myself,” you plead, and it’s not even a lie. If anything, you’re more scared of how upset Wonyoung will be if she has to go on stage without relieving her usual tension.

“Ugh, fine! But only if you ditch Leeseo tonight for me,” she argues back, and it’s a grin that tells you everything. You have no real choice when it comes to Wonyoung’s tantrums.

“What? I can’t! She’s been looking forward to this for months,” you try to argue nevertheless.

She negotiates a better deal back, the desperation of having to go out on stage any moment getting to her. “No condom this time. So what will it be? Paint our maknae’s face, or get me to touch your dick and fill my insides up as much as you want?”

“Deal, but I’m not letting you off the hook for that,” you reply in an instant, so eager your cock twitches at the mere thought of it. The glint in her eye says enough, her two hands balling into little fists as she shakes them, heralding her victory.

She forms a circle with her left thumb and index finger, wrapping it around the base of your cock and presses tightly against you. Her other hand is still occupied with her own needs. Her mouth opens up, hot breath heralding your end. You wish it took more, but the moment she plants a kiss on your cock, you burst.

It’s a full-body, shuddering embarrassment of an orgasm, the kind that makes your knees buckle and your face hot with shameful delight. Wonyoung doesn’t break eye contact—not once.

Your cum splashes out in a blinding, white arc, catching Wonyoung square on the tongue, painting her lips, her nose, even a bit on her lashes. Wonyoung squeals at the sheer volume, and then, with a balletic flick of her wrist, jerks you out for the last spurt, milking every drop onto her own eager face. She scoops up a glob with her pinky, pops it in her mouth like it’s frosting, and lets out a theatrical moan.

“God, you’re such a fucking mess,” she says, but she drags her hand down to her slit and starts furiously rubbing, as if her own orgasm is right there, like a red button she can’t stop slamming. You’re still dizzy, your vision swimming, when she shoves her face against your softening cock and lets out a high, tight whine. She cums like a disaster: messy and loud, bucking her hips so hard she nearly topples backwards, her legs kicking out and slamming the top of her head against your thigh, making you nearly collapse on top of her. She’s painted and panting, mouth slack, chest flushed scarlet. You’ve never seen her look so proud, so utterly victorious. “I’m going to look so hot on stage,” she says, but she’s smiling now, the kind of mischievous, post-orgasmic smile that could start wars. Then, she wipes the semen off her cheek with her thumb. “Is this look too much for university boys?” She chuckles, then licks her thumb with a showy little curl of her tongue in front of you, eyes locked on yours, as if daring you to disagree. You manage a shaky breath, still not recovered, and watch her collect herself with the efficiency of an idol who’s both a world-class diva and a world-class pervert.

She’s in full glam: lashes thick enough to sweep the floor, cheeks rouged to cartoonish perfection, and now this decadent pearl necklace of your making as her accessory.

“You can’t go out there like that,” you manage, voice hoarse and a little too loud.

Wonyoung’s standing, one foot in her heel, blouse still wide open, neck and chin and cheek freckled with the evidence. She stares at herself in the mirror, cocks her head, and lifts her phone. 

Snap. Snap. Snap. 

She’s taking selfies, for fuck’s sake. Her tongue pokes out, cute and obscene above her ruined makeup. “Why not?” she purrs, not even pretending to button up. “It’s a good look. Besides, the fans would fucking die.”

The front-facing camera captures the whole tableau: your deflated cock wilting against her cheek, the ropes of cum criss-crossing her face, and her absolute, shameless delight at the mess. And just like that, you’re incriminated.

“I’ll die if you get in trouble for this,” you hiss, glancing at the door as if Leeseo might be waiting with a live feed. “Please, just clean up.”

She’s not even listening. “Oh, don’t be a prude, manager. I’m doing this for you,” She winks, then switches to video mode, recording a quick little snippet of her slurping a glob of cum off her own chin, then blowing a kiss to the camera. “If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll let you watch it later.”

You’re about to protest, but then she’s shoving the phone in your hands, angling her face for you to get the best shot. “Take one for me. I want to remember how you love me the most.”

You do as you’re told, because you always do, and she’s right: this is her at her best, her most dangerous. The flash goes off, and she shivers at the sound. “God, you’re lucky,” she purrs and you know it.

“Here, let me—” you start, reaching for the tissues on the table.

But Wonyoung’s already got her own solution. “No, no, no. If you really want me cleaned up, you have to do it.” She tilts her chin up, eyes fluttering closed. “With your tongue. Or I’ll tell everyone in the company you’re a chronic masturbator who can’t keep his hands off his own dick around us.”

She grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss, her tongue pushing past your lips, and you can taste yourself, bitter and astringent, and her, sweet and sharp. She bites your lip, hard enough to sting, then breaks away and wipes the rest off with a practiced hand. “You’re such a pushover,” she says, patting your cheek with the now-ruined tissue.

You just watch as she stands, legs shaky as she fixes her hair, retwists her ponytail, and tugs her miniskirt down over her thighs, still glistening from her own mess. She checks herself in the mirror, then gives you a once-over, eyes lingering on your still-exposed, still-leaking cock.

She’s devilish, a forbidden fruit, the kind of ice cold beauty typically reserved for fairy tales. “Now, here’s your job,” she says, wagging her finger at you. “Go to the green room, watch my performance, and edge yourself until I get back. I want you leaking for me all night, so when I get back, you can fill me up for real. If you cum before I’m done, I’ll make you eat it off Yujin’s shoes.”

You sputter, “What?”

She grins, all dimples and devilry. “You heard me. And don’t even think about cheating. I’ll know.”

She blows you a kiss and flounces out, heels clacking, leaving you dazed and semi-hard in the aftermath.

You could’ve been a manager in any group, for any label in Seoul, but fate delivered you into the hands of the most terminally horny, irrepressible, and power-mad girl group in the country. You can’t even process it. You just sit there, cock in hand, trying to figure out how your life turned into a kpop bukkake sitcom. You ponder briefly if this is a privilege or a curse, and then, as your thumb scrolls aimlessly through the photo log on her phone (she left it behind by “accident”), you realize you don’t even care anymore.

The latest shot is still her, tongue out, glazing herself like a goddamn donut, winking at you through the digital shrapnel of your own undoing. Your cock jumps, traitorously.

Whatever Wonyoung wants, she gets.

[ifnotlovepersevering]

Spared (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: Agatha can’t resist herself when you ask her to take you to the Road

Warnings: NSFW, naive!reader, deceptive!agatha, mentions of alcohol, thigh riding (R), oral sex (both receiving), fingering, pet names, minors DNI

A/N: quick and dirty fic i wrote in like a day, inspired by a suggestion from @agathas-wife !

NSFW Tag List: @evilangels-stuff @riobutnotthebirb @academiagaymess @musicalmemesandstuff @shinkomiii @vintagegoddess12 @agnessharknes @jesterofrohan @agathaharknessslut @nickalpatel @junaika21

GIF Credit: @hauntinglesbian

As soon as she laid eyes on you, Agatha knew she had to have you.

You, with your alluring eyes, standing out from the rest of the crowd. You, that’d came to find her after the show. You, who all but begged her to take you to the Witches’ Road that she sang about onstage.

You wanted to go on the Road to recover a destroyed family spell book, you’d explained. You weren’t unique in this request, of course. For years Agatha had been luring in witches with the promise of a journey on the Road to receive what they most desire. The witch had collected a fair share of bodies through this scheme of hers.

But she had no wish to drain you of your powers like she did everyone else. A pretty thing like you didn’t deserve that fate, she was sure. As Agatha led you and the makeshift coven out into a field, she leaned in close to you. “Don’t do what they do.” She whispered quickly, before resuming her position at the front of the group. You looked at her, confused, but her face told you not to ask questions.

Agatha began the speech she’d recited many times before. She smiled at the admiration across your face, your girlish wonder exciting her. You couldn’t help it, you found her captivating. She was still wearing her stage getup, and the leather outfit combined with her tousled hair meant she had your undivided attention.

All of you listened intently before singing the song you all knew by heart. But at the end, no door emerged. You could feel the crush of disappointment and you saw Agatha’s mouth twist into a scowl. “Never have I met such a useless coven of witches.”

Her clear disdain stung, and you could tell the other witches were getting upset. “Come on,” Agatha growled. “Did you learn your craft from the Bible?”

Hands began glowing as the other witches’ anger rose from her jibes. Agatha caught your eye and shook her head almost imperceptibly, and you held off on bringing forth your own magic.

Colourful beams of energy began hitting Agatha, but the witch seemed to be undisturbed. The intensity of the magic hitting her increased, and she stretched out her arms as if she was taking it in. You hardly registered what was happening before the rest of the witches slumped to the ground, their lifeless husks at your feet.

You gasped in horror, looking down at the once-alive witches. “How did that- Did you-?”

Agatha feigned her own disappointment as she closed the gap between the two of you. “It’s so unfortunate but this happens sometimes.” She sighed, shaking her head. “The Road can be fickle, and witches aren’t patient creatures. I’ve had to learn to be defensive, Y/N.”

Agatha eyed you, trying to gauge your reaction, as your expression morphed from fear to sadness. Seeing you like this only fuelled her desire, and she smirked to herself as she wrapped an arm around you.

“Why don’t we get away from this, hm?” She asked. You nodded, and with a wave of her hand you two were in what you figured was her trailer.

Agatha motioned for you to sit on the couch as she poured a glass of liquor for the both of you. You accepted gratefully before downing it, wincing slightly at the burn.

“I’m sorry about earlier, doll. I’m trying to improve the ability to conjure the Road…but until then, it’s what I have to do.” Agatha studied your face, her gaze catching on the pout of your lips.

You grabbed her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. “That must be so difficult.”

“Yes,” Agatha put on a frown. “So difficult.” Ever the actress, she willed her eyes to brim with tears.

“Oh, Agatha,” your expression was plain sympathy, and it took everything in Agatha to not cackle at how easy this was. “I’m so sorry.” You leaned in to give the older witch a hug. Agatha could feel desire coiling within her as she wrapped her arms around you, breathing in your scent.

As you pulled away from the hug, Agatha brought a hand up to brush hair away from your face. Her fingers came to rest on your chin lightly, forcing you to hold her intense gaze. “Don’t be sorry, pretty girl.”

Slowly, she brought her mouth to yours and you found yourself sinking into the kiss. Agatha’s lips were hungry, dominating, and you moaned when her tongue slipped into your mouth.

Agatha pulled away suddenly, and she revelled in how you leaned in, chasing the feeling of her lips. She stood up and sauntered over to the bed at the other end of the trailer, dropping the leather jacket she was wearing to the floor. She continued stripping her clothes as she climbed onto the bed. Settling herself between the pillows, she looked at you expectantly. “Coming, doll?”

You felt your breathing quicken as you made your way over to her naked form, illuminated softly by the lights on her vanity. Before you could get on the bed, Agatha stopped you. “Ah, ah,” she tutted, motioning with her hand for you to take off your clothes.

Heat rose in your cheeks as you began stripping your clothes off for her. You could see Agatha watching intently, lips parted, as you pulled your panties down your legs before unclasping your bra.

Agatha hummed in approval as you crawled towards her before straddling her lap. Her mouth met yours again, hungrily, and both of your moans filled the small space. She maneuvered under you so that you were straddling one of her legs now, and you groaned at the pressure against your bare pussy.

“Oh,” Agatha smirked as you began grinding down onto her thigh, your slick slowly dripping out of you. “Feels good doesn’t it bunny?”

Biting your lip, you nodded furiously. “Use your words.” Agatha said, grabbing your chin to force your mouth open.

“Yes,” you cried out. “Feels so good.”

Agatha began trailing wet kisses along your jaw. You felt her lick a stripe along your neck with her tongue before she made her way to your tits. Eagerly, she sucked and nibbled at your nipple, using her hand to pinch the other. Agatha looked up at you and could tell you were close. “Come for me, baby. Come on my thigh.”

You groaned as waves of pleasure rocked through you, and you brought your mouth back down to Agatha’s. The older witch moaned, and her hands gripped your waist as she guided you so that you were under her now.

Agatha began trailing kisses down your stomach, her tongue lazily drawing circles as she made her way to your center. Between your thighs, she nearly drooled at the sight of your glistening folds. She traced a finger along them, brushing your clit gently, laughing when you hissed. “Mm, don’t say you’re too sensitive for me now, bunny.”

Unable to hold herself back any longer, Agatha buried her face between your legs. Her tongue ran through your folds, collecting your juices. She hummed as she savoured the taste, your taste, before she slid two fingers into you and began pumping them in and out. “Fuck,” you groaned, the added sensation fuelling the pleasure building inside you.

Agatha marvelled at how your walls squeezed around her digits. Your moans were getting louder, and she wrapped her free arm over your hips, which were beginning to buck up against her. Her tongue swirled over and around your clit, and she picked up a pattern of sucking it into her mouth and releasing.

“Agatha,” you moaned. The older witch’s piercing gaze held yours as you came undone, your back arching off the bed. Agatha’s grip was strong and she held you in place while you rode out the waves of pleasure, her mouth not leaving your center.

As you came down from your high, Agatha moved up from between your legs. But before she could bask in the satisfaction of making you come again, you were straddling her.

“Up for round three already, pretty girl?” Agatha grinned from underneath you. You answered by meeting her mouth with yours, savouring the flavour of your juices. “I need to taste you,” you mumbled against her lips.

You helped her move onto her stomach so that her back was now to you. Agatha moaned softly as you trailed your tongue down her neck sloppily, your lips leaving marks behind. Your hand snaked its way down over her ass to her center, where you rubbed a finger through her folds before pushing it in.

Agatha grunted underneath you at the feeling of your fingers filling her aching hole. Her hands gripped the sheets as you slowly moved your fingers in and out. Your mouth continued its ministrations on the sensitive skin of her neck before nibbling at her ear lobe.

“Oh,” Agatha groaned as you quickened the pace of your fingers. You could feel her slick gathering on your hand as the sound of your fingers pumping into her filled the room. “God, yes, baby.”

You felt her walls clench around you as she came, but you were relentless. Before she could relax you were between her legs, arms under her hips to prop her onto all fours.

“F-fuck,” Agatha groaned when your tongue made contact with her folds. You slurped up her juices, probing her opening with your tongue before flicking her clit. Agatha’s face was pushed into the pillows, her back arched, as you circled her clit before sucking it into your mouth.

You felt her hand reach back and grip your hair, shoving your face deeper into her pussy. “Right there, don’t stop- agh, good, good girl.” Agatha cried out as her orgasm shook through her body.

Both of you panting, you collapsed next to her on the pillows. Agatha clasped your face, bringing you in for a deep kiss, her tongue gathering the remnants of her juices from your lips.

“Maybe I could help you,” you mumbled softly.

Agatha smirked. “Oh you’ve helped me plenty, doll.”

“No,” you giggled. “With the Road. I could try and help you in conjuring it.”

“Oh,” Agatha’s eyebrows raised. She’d nearly forgotten about that whole thing. “Yes, you’d be a huge help.” She grinned.

Was it wrong to lie to you? Maybe. But Agatha would be damned if she let morals get in the way of keeping you by her side.

[waitingandwishing]

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Word Count: 2k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

“Once they come off the stage, we’ll jump down for the attack, and these boys’ll be…” Rumi turned to the three of you to which you all said simultaneously, “Done, done, done…”

The four of you giggled as you climbed up the stage, watching from above as the show continued on. “That’s one flaming hot Jinu!” The host said as the black haired one, Jinu, popped the hot sauce bottle out of his mouth with a wheeze.

You rested your shaky hands on your knees. Jinu huh? You knew that name too… But it was a popular name in Korea, something that almost every person you knew had. That’s probably why it was familiar, because it was common!

Your left hand tightened around the handle of your whip while your right was twisting itself to warm up your wrists. You breathed in, watching the crowd before hearing the host start to wrap up the gameshow. You smiled internally, but tried to keep a neutral expression on your face.

“Then why say goodbye, when we have extra special guests coming up?” Jinu suddenly grabbed the microphone.

“What’s happening?” You snapped your head towards Rumi, who shrugged.

“Please welcome, Huntrix!” He gestured up towards the four of you and you quickly put away your weapon. You waved to the camera, a charismatic smile on your face as you tried to hide the horrible nervousness you were now feeling.

“I LOVE YOU HUNTRIX!” Someone in the crowd shouted.

“We just wanted to stop by and congratulate our hoobaes on their debut and-” Rumi started before being interrupted by Jinu.

“And of course, play games with us! Bring out the slides!” Jinu announced, and quickly a slide with four ways appeared in front of you.

“Oh, no…” Rumi chuckled awkwardly, “We couldn’t possibly…”

“In the balls, in the balls, in the balls!” The fans cheered for you. You sat on the slide, pausing for a moment before pushing yourself off.

You slid down easily, as this time you were wearing leather shorts so you simply lifted your legs up a little bit to slide down, but the rest of them… Not so much. You flopped into the ball pit, cringing at the weird sticky warmth that clung into the pit before seeing a hand in front of you.

You looked up to see Jinu smiling at you, a flash of yellow in his eyes. You stood, choosing to ignore his hand and help the rest of your girls up instead. Jinu’s face flickered with something along the lines of annoyance and bittersweetness, but you didn’t care to think anything of it.

“This was… So great!” You smiled sweetly, looking at the crowd as Rumi, Zoey, and Mira stood beside you.

“It was truly an honor to share the stage with you.” Jinu said, his hand placed on his chest, before bowing down with the rest of the Saja boys.

“Oh no, the honor is ours.” Rumi said, the four of you bowing down as well.

“No, it was ours.”

“It’s ours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.”

The curtains soon closed and the four of you got up from your bowing positions, turning your heads before following the Saja boys out the backstage.

The city was bathed in an almost green colored light, and you quickly turned your heads to see the Saja boys head into the bathhouse.

“Let’s go get these guys.” Rumi gritted her teeth. You and the others followed before Zoey gasped excitedly.

“We finally get to go to the bathhouse with Rumi!” She realized.

As you entered, the foggy nature made you slightly anxious though you summoned your weapon anyways. “Mens?” Rumi realized and the four of you groaned.

“Wow. Did you really follow us in here?” Jinu asked.

“Wow, did you really wait there to pose for us knowing we’d follow you?” You shot back, glaring daggers at him specifically.

“You think we’re just gonna let you steal our fans?” Rumi asked and as if on cue, the four of you all raised your weapons. “You’re gonna have to fight us for them.”

“Yeah, keep our hands off our Honmoon!” Zoey yelled.

Jinu chuckled, “We’re not here to fight.” The bathhouse water glowed a familiar pink, water demons rising from the rippling demonic energy. “They are.”

“Water demons?” You frowned.

“Oh great, my favorite.” Mira said sarcastically. 

“Get rid of the Hunters.” Jinu said, his hand placed on the closest water demon near him, “Then you can eat all the souls you want.

As soon as you saw one lunge at you, your whip lashed out. The end snapped with a sonic crack, splitting a demon’s head in half before it could touch you.

You twisted, rolling under a clawed swing as Mira came over and sliced it in half. She gave you a nod, to which you nodded back with a slight smile before another lunged.

You pivoted, wrapping the whip around its wrist before yanking it hard and dragging the creature toward you. Using the demon’s momentum, you slammed your elbow into its face and kneed it in the chest.

You turned, seeing Rumi go after Jinu and the rest of the boyband members. What- What was she doing? You needed her to take care of all the demons!

Before you could call out her name, three more surged in. You sliced one across the chest then stepped back with a kick to knock down the second. You crouched and spun, executing a leg sweep that dropped the third to the floor. The whip cracked down onto the demon’s skull easily.

“What’s going on with the Honmoon?” Zoey asked as more demons tore through. “It’s getting worse!”

“We can’t hold them, we need RumI!” Mira said before launching forwards at another demon. You huffed, being thrown into the wall and causing it to crash on impact.

You let out a yell, eyes wide as you coughed. You quickly stood, seeing Jinu standing on the far left and Rumi standing in the middle with the side of her jacket ripped off. You widened your eyes, surging forward before your whip wrapped around Rumi’s waist and pulled her back into the smoke.

“Here!” You handed her a piece of cloth before turning and throwing your dagger at one of the demons that was attacking Zoey. “Hurry up and get back in!”

As you ran, you turned your head to see Jinu staring at you with wide eyes. You contemplated killing him but… No. Zoey and Mira needed you. There would always be next time. You ran forward, whip slicing one demon clean across the chest. Sparks flew as the whip’s edges tore through flesh and bone. 

You landed in a crouch and rotated your torso, whip trailing into a reverse-U crack. The sharp recoil disarmed the next demon, slashing through the tendon of its reaching hand. It screeched, disappearing in a pink poof.

A demon lunged from behind. Without looking, you spun the whip, catching the creature’s leg and flipping it off-balance. In one fluid motion, you dragged and wrapped the whip, looping around its neck. You yanked it forward and a rolling head hit the ground. Hard.

You could hear your breath, the silence louder than ever, before an old man interrupted your quiet realization. “Hey! This is the man’s bathhouse. Get out of here!” He yelled. You all awkwardly filed out, your voices overlapping with apologies as you exited. 

Jinu… The memory of you locking eyes with him replayed. Why did it feel like he knew you? Why did you even think he was anything but a stranger? Was he tied to those dreams you were having… Was your weird demon side of you now controlling your dreams?

You sighed. You should really get some sleep…

- - -

You bit into a persimmon, not just frowning at their bitterness but the fact that no… Memories or dreams had resurfaced because of it. You had hoped getting unripe ones would help with remembering but it seemed as though you had been wrong.

You huffed, throwing the half-eaten persimmon in the trash before seeing a flash of blue light out of the corner of your eye. Rumi? You watched as she walked down the street, looking behind her before running faster. What was she doing?

You looked at Mira and Zoey, who were knocked out on the couch with a movie playing, before pulling up your hoodie and exiting out the tower. You wanted to follow her.

~~~

Rumi landed on one of the rooftops, unsheathing her sword to go in for the kill. After this, her secret would be safe and the Saja boys would be one less member for the other girls to kill. She ran forward, raising her sword before slicing the head of the demon easily. Only for the head to be… A mannequin?

“What?” She widened her eyes.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting a hug but-” Rumi turned, her sword raised once again as she swung angrily at Jinu. “Jeez, jeez, okay! Calm down. I thought the mannequin was gonna be a fun icebreaker! But I see I was wrong.”

He jumped away again, dodging Rumi’s sword as she lunged at him once again. “Whoa, whoa!” He said, jumping up onto another rooftop, “Hey! I just wanna talk.”

“Talk?” Rumi furrowed her brows, pausing her movements.

“About your patterns?” Jinu offered, raising his arms up before adding, “And where’s your friend? I thought she would’ve followed you by now?”

“Stay away from my friends!” Rumi said, swinging her sword rather chaotically.

“Whoa! I could’ve told your friends what you are.” Jinu said, dissipating into a puff of pink smoke just as Rumi’s sword was about to slice through him and appearing behind her instead. “But I didn’t, did I? Because… They don’t know.”

Rumi’s breath hitched, but she didn’t falter. The two of them circled each other on the roof, waiting for the other person to strike. “Ah… I did guess right.” He smirked smugly, “Demon girls. But also Hunters.”

“Girls?” Rumi muttered to herself before tightening her grip on her sword, “How’d you know about Y/N’s markings?”

“Y/N.” Jinu repeated, his eyes glazing over just for a moment before turning his attention back to Rumi. “Let’s just say… It was a hunch. That you both were demons.”

“Just Hunter, not demon.” Rumi said, still circling Jinu.

“Then how’d you get the patterns?” Jinu asked, his voice growing more impatient.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Huh…” Jinu furrowed his brows before looking back up at Rumi, “I know what it feels like to have them.”

“Feel?” Rumi repeated. The thought made her almost laugh, “You’re a demon. Demons don’t feel anything.”

“Is that what you think?” Jinu asked, his voice rising higher as he paused his walking, “That’s all demons do. Feel. Feel our shame. Feel our misery. It’s how Gwi-Ma controls us. Do you not hear him in your ear?”

“What are you talking about?” Rumi asked.

“Huh. You’re lucky.” Jinu stated, turning away and looking at his hands. “I’ll never forget the first time I heard him. That was 400 years ago.”

“My family was extremely poor and miserable. I had a single possession to my name, an old bipa. So I busked the streets, but it didn’t get me anywhere. I was desperate. We were starving.” He said, his voice full of sadness and misery. “Then, I heard him. ‘You can’t do anything for your family. You’re not good enough for them. But I can help you be good enough’.”

“Overnight, my fate was changed. My voice was praised, even by the king himself.” Jinu smiled bittersweetly, “My family and I lived on the palace grounds. Our bellies were finally full, our clothes clean. We were happy.”

“My lover was happy.” Jinu reached into his pocket, pulling out a necklace with a small bead. He lifted it to the moonlight, watching as the tiny shards of mother-of-pearl practically glow in the moonlight. "What the court would cast aside, she wore over her heart…”

Rumi widened her eyes. Jinu, a demon, once had a spouse? She couldn’t believe it…

“But the patterns, they kept spreading until they consumed me.” Jinu tucked the necklace back into his pocket, “And I was condemned to the demon world, prisoner of Gwi-Ma for all eternity… My family lost everything. My lover was beaten and expelled from the palace for loving a bipa player. They were even worse off than before… Every day since, I’ve been haunted by the memory of failing them.”

“These are a constant reminder of my shame. A shame I can never escape.” Jinu turned to Rumi, walking towards her. He paused, raising his arm before a snap caught his wrist.

Rumi and Jinu turned to the source of light, only for the demon to be pulled away and slammed onto the ground. “Rumi!” You shouted, landing beside her, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… I just…” Rumi caught your hand as you went down to attack Jinu. You blinked, confusion laced with annoyance in your eyes.

“Rumi?” You looked at her. She swallowed before letting go of your wrist, though you didn’t make any moves to go after Jinu. Rumi was more important than a stupid boy band demon. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her markings to glow underneath her turtle neck. You recoiled, hand markings also glowing underneath your gloves as well. 

“Yeah…” Rumi placed her hand on yours with a slight smile, “Yeah I’m fine.”

[bleulikedaylight]

Cite Me Later

pairing: academic rival! natasha romanoff x academic rival! reader

synopsis: you’ve always been top of your class—sharp, confident, and unbeatable. in your world, there’s no such thing as a worthy rival. that is, until natasha romanoff strides into your class with a smirk and a sharper argument that throws your entire carefully controlled world into chaos.

warnings: none !! <3 | wc: 2.2k | genre: academic enemies-to-lovers

note: posting a lot 'cause i'm bored as hell. someone pls give me a hobby or a thesis deadline or smth. 🥲

also, to the anon who asked if i have a masterlist—i do now. yay !! here it is: bleu's intro & masterlist !! ♡

You’d always believed in one thing: there is no such thing as a worthy rival.

People either got in your way or trailed behind. You were always two steps ahead, first in every list, most respected, and most feared. That is, until Natasha Romanoff walked into your sophomore political theory class like she owned the world and immediately raised her hand with a better argument than yours.

You’d never hated someone faster.

And you’d never thought about anyone more.

For two years, the two of you danced through every class, every competition, every student council election like twin flames destined to clash. Professors took bets. Students whispered. Even the president of the university made a comment about how you two should “either get a room or co-author a research paper.”

You had no plans to do either.

That is, until your university’s elite debate championship dropped the bomb: final round—1 vs 1 debate: Natasha Romanoff vs Y/N L/N.

Of course. Who else would it be?

You were doomed.

Not because you thought you’d lose. No. You were doomed because last week, Natasha Romanoff looked you dead in the eye after a mock trial and said, “You blinked. I win.”

You did blink.

Because she smiled.

And your brain short-circuited.

—

You arrived at the auditorium ready for war—blazer ironed, cards memorized, hair sleek, lipstick perfectly placed. The student auditorium was packed, buzzing. Wanda, your roommate, waved at you with both hands from the front row while mouthing KILL HER.

Across the stage, Natasha adjusted her sleeves like she was getting ready for a date, not war. She wore her signature dark-red lipstick and a subtle smirk like it was custom-made. Her black turtleneck somehow made her look smarter. Infuriating.

The moderator explained the rules. Each of you got five minutes to open, followed by three rounds of rebuttals.

The topic: “Surveillance in modern democracy—boon or bane?”

You took the negative. Natasha took the affirmative.

Game on.

You were flawless. Your opening statement was clear, concise, cutting. The audience nodded, impressed.

But Natasha?

She spoke like every word was silk dipped in poison.

She paced slowly, making eye contact with the audience, then you, then the panel. Her hands moved just enough to make her point but never enough to be dramatic. And she had the audacity to say, “My opponent makes an excellent point—hypothetically.”

The crowd gasped.

You wanted to scream.

But you rallied.

The third round came fast. You delivered your argument with surgical precision—facts sharpened like blades, your voice unwavering, confident, borderline smug.

And then she took the mic.

Natasha leaned forward, lips brushing the foam cover like it was an invitation. Her tone? Silky and laced with that Romanoff mischief that made half the room forget how to breathe.

"L/N," she said smoothly, eyes gleaming with something dangerous, "you’re making this almost too easy. You always do."

You narrowed your eyes, unsure if she was insulting you or complimenting you—or both.

She continued, "But don’t worry. I’ll let you explain your logic to me again... over coffee, maybe? My treat. Winner buys."

A ripple of laughter tore through the audience. You blinked, thrown off for half a second.

Did she just—

You slapped your hand over your mic and hissed, “Romanoff. Are you flirting with me right now?”

She tilted her head, all smug and no shame. “No,” she whispered back. “I’m distracting you.”

The moderator cleared their throat.

You turned back to the mic, mind rattled.

The final bell rang.

The debate ended.

And the audience? Lost their minds.

—

You stormed out of the auditorium with heels echoing your fury. Behind you, Natasha followed, calm as ever.

“You cheated,” you snapped, whirling around.

She looked amused. “By being charming?”

“By distracting me.”

“I only distract you because you like me.”

You froze. “Excuse me?”

She stepped closer, the hallway quiet and dim. “Come on, Y/N. You only argue with me like that because you want to see if I’ll push back.”

“I argue with everyone.”

“But you only blush with me.”

You touched your cheek instinctively.

Damn it.

“This is why you’re still single,” you said, crossing your arms.

She tilted her head.

“No,” she said, smile softening into something dangerous. “I’m still single because you haven’t confessed to me yet, Y/N.”

Your mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Your heart forgot how to beat.

And for the first time in your entire academic life—you had no rebuttal.

—

Back in your dorm, you paced while Wanda watched from the bed, popcorn in hand.

“Say it again?” she asked.

“She said—she’s still single because I haven’t confessed yet.” You paused. “Like, what even—what was I supposed to say?!”

“I don’t know, ‘yes, Natasha, I’ve secretly wanted to kiss you since Intro to Gov.’ Maybe that?”

“I’m not falling for her.”

Wanda gave you a look.

You fell back onto the bed. “This is bad. I can’t be falling for my rival.”

“You’re already gone, babe.”

You groaned and fell face-first into your pillows.

—

Fate, or some chaotic god, had a sense of humor. The next class project? Partnered research. Your professor announced the pairings with casual indifference.

Of course, the professor paired you with Natasha.

“She requested you,” your prof said casually.

“Sorry?”

“She said no one else could match her.”

Great.

Just great.

You met her at the library the next day, heart pounding.

“You look like you’re about to fight me,” Natasha said, sliding into the seat across from you.

“I am.”

She chuckled. “Good. I like it when you fight.”

You glared, opening your laptop. “Let’s just get this done.”

Hours passed in chaos. You bickered about citations, rewrote the thesis four times, and debated tone until your heads hurt. But each time her fingers brushed yours, your pulse jumped. When she leaned over to point at your screen and her hair brushed your cheek, you froze.

Once, she leaned over you to point at your screen, her hair brushing your cheek.

You froze.

“You smell good,” she murmured.

“Shut up,” you muttered, ears burning.

She grinned. “Make me.”

You stared at her.

“I will.”

“Do it.”

And just like that, the library air turned electric.

You broke the tension by knocking her water bottle over.

Twice.

—

It happened again at the library—but this time, it wasn’t her. It was Enzo—the third-year International Studies major who always managed to appear when Natasha wasn’t around.

Today, he came bearing coffee. Your favorite.

“You look stressed,” Enzo said, placing the drink beside your laptop. “Thought you could use this.”

You blinked. “I—uh. Thanks. That’s… really sweet.”

He grinned, leaning against the table a little too casually. “I was wondering if you’d want to co-present for Model UN next month. You’re kind of amazing, and it’d be an honor.”

Before you could even respond, a shadow fell across your table.

“She already has a partner,” Natasha said coolly, appearing out of nowhere.

Your heart stuttered.

Enzo straightened. “Oh. Hey, Natasha. Didn’t see you there.”

“I know,” she said. “Maybe next time, announce yourself with a trumpet.”

You choked on your coffee.

Enzo blinked, confused. “It’s just a coffee. No need to be—”

“Possessive?” she cut in smoothly, slipping into the seat beside you. Her arm brushed yours. She didn’t move away. “Good. Just clarifying.”

Enzo left shortly after, citing “a class,” but he looked like he might transfer universities.

You turned to her. “What was that?”

“Coffee makes me territorial.”

“That wasn’t your coffee.”

“No,” she said, voice lower now, “but you’re mine.”

You stared. “Excuse me?”

She smiled sweetly, pulling your laptop toward her. “Now. About that conclusion paragraph.”

You spent the next twenty minutes typing in silence while your brain combusted.

—

The moment it all came to a head happened on the rooftop.

You’d just submitted your joint paper—the professor emailed to say it was “the best submission of the semester.”

The sun was setting, city lights flickering awake one by one beneath your feet. You held a cup of coffee in one hand, a slice of banana bread in the other. Natasha leaned on the railing beside you, hair tousled by the breeze.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

“It’s kind of annoying,” you said finally.

“What is?”

“That we’re good at everything.”

She laughed, brushing a crumb off your blazer. “We are.”

You turned to her. “I didn’t think we’d work well together.”

“I knew we would,” she said.

“Why?”

She met your gaze.

“Because you’re the only person who scares me,” she said. “And excites me. At the same time.”

You blinked. “Is this your way of flirting again?”

“It’s my way of confessing.”

You froze.

“Y/N,” she continued, voice quieter, “I’ve liked you since you corrected Professor Ross on a constitutional clause in front of the whole class."

“That was two years ago.”

“I’m very patient.”

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to say something witty. Clever. Deflect.

“This is bad. I can’t be falling...”

“…for you,” you finished, barely audible.

You expected her to tease you. Maybe crack a smug grin or say something borderline insufferable.

Instead, Natasha just looked at you like she already knew. Like she’d always known.

“I know,” she said softly, stepping closer. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

You laughed, breathless. “We’re rivals.”

“Rivals don’t stay up editing each other’s citations,” she countered. “They don’t memorize each other’s coffee orders or steal pens just to watch you pout and roll your eyes.”

She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“And they definitely don’t make each other blush this much.”

You hated that she was right. And loved it, too.

Your lips parted to respond—but the rooftop door creaked open.

Wanda.

Of course.

She squinted at you both, eyes darting between your flushed face and Natasha’s proximity.

“I KNEW IT,” she screamed. “I KNEW YOU WERE FLIRTING DURING THE DEBATE.”

You groaned. “Wanda—”

“I’m telling the group chat.”

“You are not telling the group chat—”

But it was too late. She was already running back inside, shrieking something about ‘endgame lesbians’ and ‘slow burn finally burning.’

You turned back to Natasha, exasperated. “You’ve doomed me.”

“I’ll take responsibility,” she said, grinning. “Want me to draft a public statement?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re in love with me.”

You didn’t deny it.

—

You and Natasha showed up to your next class five minutes late.

Everyone stared.

You were glowing.

Natasha’s lipstick was smudged.

Wanda fist-pumped like she’d won the lottery. The professor didn’t even blink.

Later that week, your university released the final overall academic rankings.

You and Natasha?

Tied for first.

For the fourth time in a row.

She leaned over and whispered, “We’re good at sharing, huh?”

You smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

—

You didn’t sleep that night.

Part of it was the caffeine, but most of it was her.

You lay in bed staring at your ceiling, replaying the rooftop, the smile she gave you, the way she said “you’re mine” like it was a truth she never doubted.

At 2:41 a.m., your phone buzzed.

You stared at the message.

—

You met her outside your dorm, both in hoodies and sneakers, the city quiet and glimmering.

“I was hoping you’d say yes,” she said, falling into step beside you.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky I’m already in too deep.”

You walked aimlessly, passing quiet cafés and flickering lamp posts, your shoulders brushing now and then like it meant nothing. But it meant everything.

“You know,” you said, hands stuffed in your hoodie pocket, “when I first met you, I wanted to push you down a flight of stairs.”

She snorted. “I thought you were a robot. Like, no emotion, just pure ambition.”

You smiled. “You were the first person who made me feel… nervous.”

She glanced at you, eyes soft. “You made me want to be better. And I hated you for it.”

You stopped walking.

“So what now?” you asked. “Are we... a thing?”

“I hope so,” she said, then leaned down, pressing her forehead to yours. “Unless you’d rather we keep flirting through footnotes and rebuttals.”

You grinned. “Maybe both.”

She kissed you.

And it felt less like the end of a rivalry—and more like the start of something real.

—

Your friends started asking questions. The professors started smiling when you bickered in class. You still debated her over everything—lunch menus, political philosophies, even what the best seat was in the student lounge.

But now, when you won, she kissed you.

When she won, you let her.

She still brought up the Enzo moment sometimes.

“Would’ve punched him if he asked you out,” she muttered once.

“You can’t punch diplomacy majors.”

“I can try.”

—

You lost your next debate to her.

On purpose.

She kissed you right after.

You decided maybe losing wasn’t so bad.

Not when it was to Natasha Romanoff.

And especially not when she pulled you aside after the crowd cleared and whispered, “Still rivals?”

You kissed her.

“Always.”

[c4tluver02]

sweet drinks

wc: 1.4k

summary: A slow night at the bar reminds you just how lucky you are to spend the rest of your life with Steve.

cw: drinking but other than that none!! just steve yearning for you and you yearning for steve !!!!

a/n: I wrote this a little diff than I normally write so lmk if u like it or not :p

The bar filled in quickly tonight. Loud music leaked from the speakers as colorful hues splashed across dancing bodies. It was loud but not the type that forced you to scream just to hear one another. Your table was fit for four; you, Steve, Robin, and Eddie. 

Robin had invited Vickie and she came minutes after you four did. Eddie was quick to find a girl when he went out to smoke. And you and Steve stayed planted near your table. Between the two of you multiple drinks have been had. Glasses that were once filled with fruity cocktails that tasted sweet and looked like fun colors were in front of you while Steve had tall glasses with beer that were dark with white foam on top. When he kissed you he could taste the raspberry syrup they used in your drinks and it was almost enough to make his eyes lull to the back of his head. 

If you asked Steve he would say you look as good as you tasted. He’s barely taken his eyes off you tonight, only needing to when Robin and Vickie left to see which direction they were going. You were gleaming. Not even the crowded, sticky bar could take away from how mesmerizing you looked. 

When you had first walked in there was still something holding you up straight. Your body slightly stiff from the loud noise and sweaty bodies that were not afraid to bump into you as you pushed your way through. When you sat down and one by one your friends vanished your skeleton loosened with the thanks of your first drink. The barely there taste of alcohol made it easy to slurp down, Steve saw it but still waved to the bartender to make you another one. By the time you had finished two sugary drinks Steve had finished his bitter tasting beer. It had a light smokey taste to it that Steve was all about, but when offering you to try it your nose scrunch had told him enough about what you thought of it. 

As the drinks came and as you drank them it was always only you and Steve sat at the table for four. Sometimes his hand would copy a beat to a song that was playing, his lips mouthing some of the words. Even if he sang out loud no one would be able to hear it, well, maybe you but you were so close to him that his knees were pressed against yours. It wasn’t because it was loud or because there was no space, it was simply that with every little pink drink you got, somehow, Steve never felt close enough. A small scoot would bring you closer towards him and still a sigh would come out of you. Only showing your tantalizing smile when his hand would lay on your thigh, still drumming to the beat of a song. 

Whenever Steve leaned towards you to tell you something he always got a hint of your perfume. It wasn’t the one you wear everyday, but something bigger. One that when you walk by would remain, leaving a body that once was. It was crisp and airy all at the same time, floating and circling around Steve when you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

By your third drink you had given up on touching knees with him. Moving your chair directly next to his while throwing a leg over his own. Your arm was laying on his shoulder as your hand ran through his hair. Practically half of your body was on him, locking him in place and unable to leave. Not that Steve wanted to leave, not at all. You were finally getting to the fuzzy stage of drinking. Tispy, unaware, but still able to sit up straight. Steve loved this stage because whatever was holding you so tightly together was feathering out. Leaving him with a girl who isn't afraid to put half her body on him in public. 

Steve was starting to absolutely ache. He even thought that his heart might burst out of his chest. With the heat of your body on his and the sweetest compliments being whispered in his ear, he didn’t know if he would last the whole night. You were tempting and magnetic, a perfect concoction for Steve to take. Your hands were all over him by your fourth drink and by his third beer his whole body was completely turned towards you. The laugh that came out only when you two were alone started to slip out, the intoxication clear to anyone around you. But Steve wishes he could hear it everyday. Once when he wakes up, another when he gets in a bad mood because of a customer, and lastly before he goes to bed. Maybe another sprinkled somewhere within his day if he was able to be greedy. 

But with you Steve was always able to be greedy. Selfishly taking what he wants because you always let him. There's never any mention of being too much or needy when it comes to you two. Both of you are equally obsessed with each other but Steve likes to argue that he's at least 10% more obsessed with you than you are with him. And you don’t say he’s wrong because it feels nice to have someone obsessed with you. It’s why you let him do whatever he wants with you. 

And man, oh, man is it showing through tonight. When Eddie comes by to tell you he's heading out with a pretty girl by his side he sees it. Even the girl sees it, looking at you two with wide eyes, then looking at Eddie. You wish you could tell her that's not how Eddie works, nowhere near settling down but they walk away before you can warn her. Steve takes your attention back almost immediately and you don’t give it another thought, only looking at his big hazel eyes that softly look into your own. They are half-closed, and looking down at you. 

His veiny hand wraps lightly around your neck, slender fingers pushing your jaw up so your head is tilted to look at him. He tells you something but your eyes are stuck on his lips. Slightly pink from kissing you when you had your lipstick on, and wet from the sip he just took from his beer. It makes you run your tongue over your own lip in want, no, need. Because he’s barely kissed you despite being so pressed together. 

Thankfully Steve knows you well enough to read your mind, or maybe the need is so physical that it’s displayed on your face, unable to be hidden by the person who knows you the best. He leans in and gives you a slow feverish kiss. One that tells you he has been thinking about it all night, and the way you push into him in response tells him that you're thankful he finally did it. 

Of course he’d been giving you small pecks on your temple or the crown of your head. But when has that ever been enough? Especially when it comes to Steve. Steve who will carry you home on his back when he can't pick up a cab by the end of the night. You’ll slur on about how your feet hurt in your new heels and Steve will try not to trip on anything with you on his back as he walks home. Those new heels will be in his hands of course because how could you not fall asleep? His deep breaths are so comforting and the bounce within each step he takes is enough to rock you to sleep. 

Mumblings of “m’love with you Stevie” or “so strong for me” fill his ears. Thankfully you’re awake enough by the time you get home to dig out the house keys from your purse. Steve even bends his knees a little so you can easily reach the lock on the door. When they crack at the movement you’ll apologize for making him carry you, the short nap slightly killing your buzz. But he’ll tell you something about how it’s not your fault that he’s getting older. This fills you with a whole new feeling. Growing older with Steve, getting to hear his knees crack for the rest of your life. Telling your kids how one time you got drunk at a bar and that their dad was so kind he carried you home. It was a life worth dreaming about, and it was all because of Steve.

[slutzforbueckers]

kiss land

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut

synopsis: you were a stripper and paige had her eyes on you—just her luck, you had your eyes on her.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

the lights turned off in the strip club and everyone knew what time it was. they always did that, a quick black out before a they turned the red lights on. and when they did that’s when you appeared, a two piece black lingerie set clinging to your curves, a red thigh garter strapped around your right thigh. there was pause and everyone went silent. people that only came to this particular club to watch you made their way to the stage, dollar bills in hand—paige happened to be one of those people.

she was almost always in the front row, her eyes stuck on your body the whole dance. you always had a different song choice, tonight’s choice being kiss land by the weeknd. you twirled the pole and bit your lip as you scanned the audience, locking eyes with each one to make them feel special. it worked because when you locked eyes with paige her breath caught in her throat, her pupils dilating to cover the cool blue.

the way you moved on the pole had her captivated, you were graceful with each and every part, you looked so innocent and sinful all at once—it’s what kept the men and women coming back. you slid down the silver pole, swaying your hips and shaking your ass to the beat of the song as you dropped to your knees. an uproar of whistling and drunk men fake moaning filled the club, what really set them off was you pretended to lick the pole as you stood back up.

your eyes found paige’s and she was sure she would pass out because this wasn’t like the other times, you were looking at her. paige’s fingers gripped her black cargos, her lips parting slightly. you held her gaze the entire time you rounded the pole and exited the stage and found your way to her seat.

you stopped right in front of her, legs just between hers, and lowered yourself onto her lap. you were close enough paige could catch a whiff of your perfume—something like vanilla and lust. it wrapped around her like a vice. you leaned in, your lip just beside her ear, voice dropped to a low sultry tone. “hi, pretty.”

paige almost had to force herself to speak, her hands twitching beside her with how badly she wanted to touch you. her voice cracked as she spoke, “he-hey.”

you smiled—wicked and amused—and gently ran your finger along her jaw, then down to her collarbone. the crowd was still going wild, but for a moment, the noise faded. it was just you and her. the connection was palpable, electric.

“see me after, yeah?” you murmured, letting your finger drop as you stood up and turned around, slowly walking away, hips still hypnotizing, the song on its final stretch. paige sat frozen, eyes stuck on your retreating figure, heart pounding in her chest like it was trying to escape. she had no idea what game you were playing—but she was already losing and god, did it feel good.

the second your set ended, paige was already on the move. she tried to play it cool—hands in the pockets of her pants, head down, like she wasn’t just seconds from combusting. her chest was tight, her throat dry, and her steps quick. the bouncer at the side hallways didn’t even ask her anything, he just gave her a knowing nod and opened the rope that led to the private rooms.

room 3. that’s what she was told.

she hesitated outside the door for a second, just long enough to hear the bass from the club vibrating faintly through the walls, then pushed it open. there you were—legs crossed, leaning back against a leather couch like you’d been expecting her all night. the red lights in here were even softer, dimmer, bathing you in a sultry glow. you didn’t say anything right away, just looked her up and down slowly, deliberately, like you had all the power in the world—and you did.

“close the door,” you said softly, voice like smoke. she obeyed without a word, locking it behind her before turning back to you, her breath shallow. you stood up, walking over to her—slow, almost predatory. you stepped up to her, running your hand up her toned stomach to her chest.

paige’s hands found your waist, fingers brushing over the garter still clinging to your thigh. “thought you didn’t do private dances.”

“i don’t,” you whispered, lips ghosting over her jaw. “but you’re hot and i want you.”

that’s when you kissed her, slowly at first just to make sure, and she kissed you back—harder. your mouths moved together in a frenzy, teeth clashing, tongues exploring. paige’s hands found the curve of your ass and squeezed, making you gasp into her mouth. she backed you up until you hit the couch, then pushed you down gently, her eyes dark.

“you always get what you want?” she asked as she lowered herself onto her knees in front of you.

“always.” you spread your legs for her without shame, the black lingerie still clinging to you, now soaked with heat and want.

“you’re so wet already,” she breathed, kneeling between your thighs, fingers trailing up the inside of your leg. her eyes were glossed over with lust as she looked up at you again. “just for me?”

“just for you,” you whispered, head falling back when her mouth brushed against the lace.

she didn’t waste time—pulling the fabric aside and licking a slow, flat stripe up your cunt. you moaned, loud and unapologetic, your hips bucking into her face. her hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as she buried her tongue in you, eating like she’d starved for days, like the only thing that could satisfy her was you.

your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging hard when she sucked your clit just right. paige groaned against you, the vibration making your whole body shake. she ran her fingers over your thigh teasingly before bringing them up and prodding your lips with her middle and ring finger. you met her eyes as you wrapped your hand around her wrist and parted your lips, taking her fingers into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them.

paige let out a soft moan, her hips jerking forward slightly, while she watched you. you were a sight to be seen, you were the definition of a vixen. she was wetter than she had ever been before, she was almost certain she was going to cum in her pants before you even touched her.

she pulled her fingers out and pressed them into your cunt. your back arched and your hand shot down to grip her hair, the stretch burning in the best way. paige set a easy rhythm, hooking and prodding that sweet spot that made your head spin. “right—mhmm—right there, fuck—“

the muscles in your thighs twitched as she sucked your clit into her mouth, her tongue flicking and circling with just the right amount of pressure. paige couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, she soaked up every laboured breath, every moan, every whimper. you brought your hands up to grab at your tits, your fingers pinching and rolling your hardened nipples through your lace bra.

paige hooked her fingers just right and it was over—you came with a cry, thighs trembling, your body arching off the couch but she didn’t stop. she dragged you through another—then another—until you were breathless and ruined beneath her, makeup smudged, hair a mess, your chest rising and falling in desperate heaves.

when she finally pulled away, mouth and chin glistening, she leaned over you and kissed you again—slow this time, deep, like a promise.

“i’ve been watching you for months,” she murmured against your lips, her voice low and raw.

“but this? this is mine now.”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[kabuki-writes]

The Laugh of Nero

chapter: 4 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 5

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: General Acacius faces the consequences of his conspiracy, while his daughter unexpectedly meets Emperor Caracalla alone for the first time.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 3.6k

Romans loved the story of old philosopher Seneca. He was once the teacher of Emperor Nero almost 200 years ago and although body was dead, his life continued through writings: one of it being the drama 'Octavia'. It was a popular play in the amphitheaters of Ancient Rome and beyond. And it was a favorite of yours.

The plot focused on three days during which the Emperor divorced and exiled his wife Claudia Octavia and married another, his lover Poppaea Sabina. It was indeed a tragedy, that gave the audience a glimpse into the madness of Nero, the wisdom of Seneca and the tragedy of Octavia. Oh how you could relate to Octavia. The divergence between her fear, hatred and sadness against her will to withstand and be wiser than what was thrown against her, it intrigued you. Somehow you felt the same in your current situation. On the one handside you feared the future and displeased the attention of the Emperors on you, yet you wanted to do everything to persevere. In a way, the stoic nature of Seneca's character in this play gave you some kind of guidance too. Stoicism, maybe you needed to stick to that even more as you were not able to control your surroundings as it seemed?

You took your seat in the upper-ranks of the amphitheater, accompanied by two of your closest friends. Cicero was one of the grandsons of senator Gracchus and now served as one of the senate’s transcriptors for as long as he was not old enough to candidate for a political mandate himself. The other one was Lydia, the daughter of General Britannicus, who fought alongside your father countless of times and was now fighting with his legions in the far north of the Empire. "Oh, i hope Scato is going to play Octavia this time! The last time i saw him in the role of Electra - it was just mesmerizing. He is just so handsome", Lydia sighed, as she always seemed to be that actor's number one supporter. You and Cicero laughed in response before you gave your friend a small pat on the shoulder. "I already heard that you approached him after the last play. Beware actors, Lydia. They might be charming, but they're also free spirits," you explained with a smirk on your lips, before Cicero added. "Oh everyone would run, when they hear about her father."

"Come on! Stop it! I am just daydreaming! I know he will never let me spend time with someone that isn't a boring military officer!" Lydia turned her face away because she turned completely red, but as she did, she noticed the black armory of the Praetorian guards, who escorted one of the Emperors to the royal box of the Amphitheater. "y/n, Cicero, look!"

You quickly turned your eyes to the scene and your face went pale in an instant, when you saw the luxurious decorated robe, the blonde-ginger hair and the golden laurel wreath. That profile, the curved nose and the make up... you instantly noticed, which brother was here to witness the play of 'Octavia'.

Nero.

In that very moment, he turned his head in an attempt to take a look at the crowd and you tried your best to keep your head low, while your sight was locked to the stage in front of you.

"Is everything alright, y/n?", Cicero asked irritated, while he tried to make sense of your sudden change of behavior.

"Yes, yes i just... i've never seen Emperor Caracalla here."

"Really? He comes to the theater quite often to watch plays", Lydia managed to say, before the crowd slowly fell silent as the first actor slowly walked on stage. The young woman next to you blushed and you could feel Lydia's hand clinging on your arm as if she needed something to hold on - the actor was indeed Scato and the costume he wore was 'Octavia' - a flowing robe with a long, curled wig and extravagant make-up that captured the sadness of her character perfectly.

But you couldn't really focus. Your eyes went to the royal box, the best place to watch the play in a comfortable isolation from the rest of the spectators. Here he sat, accompanied by an entourage of 'friends' and a little monkey which sat on his lap. Suddenly his eyes went from the stage over the crowd and suddenly, he saw you. Your heart sunk to your feet and you instantly turned back to the stage to witness Scato's monologue. He had seen you... and what you were not able to witness now was how he turned to one of his Praetorian Guards, to which he whispered an order.

You tried to keep calm as you stared at the stage, where Octavia was now accompanied by a chorus, who wept for the terrible treason she had to endure when Nero decided to take another woman as his wife. Meanwhile your fingers clinged into the fabric of your toga-styled dress as you gathered your thoughts. You still recalled the words you'd talked with him at the Collosseum - the way you had his attention. Women would kill for what you were able to get if you just continue - but then you heard the words of your father, you saw his worried eyes in front of you and you knew something was terribly wrong.

You were so encaptured in your own thoughts that Lydia grabbed your arm again, but this time it was not because she was about to fall for the man on stage, but because a Praetorian Guard was standing right at the side of your seats and pointed at you. "You. Follow me," he ordered in a very demanding tone, while your friends looked at you in shock. They didn't know what you'd witnessed before, so you grabbed their hands and just gave them an encouraging smile. "Don't worry about me, we see each other soon, alright?", you whispered before you stood up and followed the guard upstairs to the place where Emperor Caracalla had his seat.

_________________________________

"y/n, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here! Please, take a seat!", you heard the voice of Emperor Caracalla as you stepped into the royal box of the amphitheater and bowed to him.

"Leave us, Go!", he hissed quickly to his entourage, who - without a word - got up from their seats and left as quickly as they could, but not without giving you a two-faced look. It was almost as if they already knew something you didn't, as if they both pitied and envied you at the same time. You hold their glances to not give in to any mockery they might've had in their minds and would speak out to each other when they were gone. Then it was only you and the young Emperor,... and his pet monkey, which was seemingly busy eating grapes from a bowl of fruit.

With slow, careful movements you approached the seats in the front and sat down beside Caracalla, his eyes never leaving you as you did. "A funny coincidence, is it not? I remember that we talked about 'Octavia' and here we are now", he chuckled, while he leaned back and for a moment, he watched the stage, where Seneca approached Nero about the divorce of his first wife.

"A coincidence, indeed", you answered and followed his glance. There he was, the mad Emperor, who complained about the unfair treatment of him through his own mother, which he cursed over and over again. At that point she was already dead - believed to be murdered by an order of Nero himself.

"You haven't fully answered me back then, when i asked why you see yourself as Nero". The question came from your mouth while you still followed the actor's movements in his luxurious decorated robes, a red wig on his head - it somehow reminded you of Caracalla.

"The play is written to portray him as a monster, am i sitting next to one?"

Maybe it was almost too bold to ask that. You already regretted speaking those words out loud, when his view instantly switched to you, his blue eyes digging into you like a sharp blade. Suddenly, he simply burst into a resounding laughter, that made your lose your breath for a moment, as you stared at him with irritation.

"Gods, you're really amusing", Caracalla grinned wide, showing off his gold tooth. Nonetheless he gave you an answer. "It depends..."

He raised his hand and let his little monkey climb on it. When he reached his shoulder, Caracalla took a grape and fed it to the animal, before it started to groom his wild hair. Not caring about it, he continued. "Everyone views Nero as mad for breaking the chains that his mother and his predecessor layed on him. He never loved Octavia, yet he had to marry her. He never wanted to be Emperor, yet he became one. His mother tried to control him, so much so, that he needed to get rid of this old hag." The last words were almost a hissing tone, as if he was speaking of something he could truly relate to.

"Now everyone is plotting against him, the Gods, his damned first wife, his teacher, all of Rome, only because he started to follow his own path and married the woman he loved. A tragedy, truly - not just for Octavia, don't you think?"

He looked straight into your eyes, waiting for your answer and you sensed that this was a key moment, where you could say something wrong. In a way, you could see what he meant, but there was something he didn't see. Nero broke the chains, yes, but he broke them with cruelty, murder and terror.

"Isn't everything in our lives a tragedy?", you asked and it seemed to please Caracalla, as his bright grin returned, before he turned to the stage once more, crawling his pet monkey while he followed the next scene.

Oh how he could relate to those words. No one could understand the tragedy of his own life, always being seen as the underestimated, 'weaker' and younger brother. But he enjoyed this talk more than he was willing to admit. And he was sure that you were able to understand him to a certain degree, the first woman to do so.

Suddenly, his pet jumped over to you, climbing onto your shoulder and taking a strain of hair to look at your curls.

"Dondus, no! Don't hurt the fair lady!" In an instant, Caracalla jumped from his seat, but before he tried to take the monkey again, he noticed your sudden yet beautiful laugh and how you reached out to pat Dondus carefully, softly, with your filigran fingers. How he wished that those fingers would touch him in that very moment, while his hands stiffened.

"It is fine, please - don't worry", you said quickly, since the monkey didn't hurt you in any way - in fact the way he climbed on your shoulders, touched your hair with his tiny fingers and groomed them with interest in his dark eyes, was very cute. And your reaction was honest.

"I think, he likes you", Caracalla mumbled, while he returned to his seat, still watching you how gentle you were with Dondus, one of his only 'real friends'. It was his own pet, his alone and caring for him often calmed his mind. Just as you did in this very moment since no word came from his mouth - he just watched. Why, just why does he have to share you with Geta soon...

Slowly he reached for his cup of wine and poured it down in an attempt to numb his thoughts over this damn fact.

"You said you see yourself in Octavia, but you could be Poppaea", he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

"I could be," you responded, the focus laying on 'could', while you were still playing with the little monkey. In a way you started to find your path in this game. "Either way my fate would end in death then."

Caracalla laughed boisterous once again in response to your words, while he raised his cup. "And yet you would live in delight instead of agony. Let us toast to the inevitable death of us all". You took your cup and followed his toast.

"To the tragedy of us all." As you drank a first sip of your wine, you still saw how he looked you straight into the eyes. It was clear that he just waited for the next chance to say something and this time he was closer than before, leaning over the armrest of his throne. The Emperor was close enough for you to smell the scent of his perfumes and the wine on him.

"I just know we will have a lot of fun, once we see each other more often," he chuckled. His words hit you, but you tried your best not to drop your mask of neutrality. You'd almost began to enjoy this conversation up to this point. What did he mean by that?

Should you ask? No, it would be terribly impolite to question something like that in the presence of an Emperor. Only your lips parted, while you searched for your next words. Caracalla was the one to grin again, his gold tooth shimmering in the lights that came from the stage of the theater. And his next words rang through your ears like a bell.

"Don't forget to thank your dear father, once you're back home."

_________________________________

Marcus Acacius walked through the hallways of the Imperial Palace, escorted by the Praetorian Guard. He was not in chains, but wore his dark brown leather armor with the wine red whool cloak and his helmet under his arm - the armor of a General. In fact, he didn't really know why he was even here in the first place. It was quite early for a new war campaign, but he stopped to question them long ago anyways. It wouldn't be a surprise, if the Emperors had already found a new target for their obsession. The mere hunger for expansion was enough to never satisfy both Geta and Caracalla, who simply took military like Acacius and moved them on a map as if they were simple toy figures. The glory of Rome was what they promised the people, yet all the older man had seen was death and despair over and over again - even though he always came back with a victory laurel wreath on his head. What an irony.

The fact that everything was like the last times he was called to the palace, made him unobservant to the fact that he was walking straight into a trap. He was sure that his secret was still a secret - that he and the senators were safe in a way. Maybe safe enough to carry out their plan once the time was ready for it. How wrong he was on this...

When he stepped into the throne room, the guards behind him closed the door and he greeted Emperor Geta according to the protocol in situations like these. "My Emperor", he said with his fist on his chest and his eyes locked on the young man, who stood in front of one of the two elaborately designed thrones, which were placed on a platform at the center of the room.

"General Acacius! It is good to see you again. Come forward...," Geta called and his waving hand was a signal for him to move, to come closer. As he did, Marcus noticed that the other twin was missing, but this wasn't a surprise too since Caracalla was often 'occupied' with other things. In reality, he simply hated politics and rather threw himself into diffent forms of pleasure in an attempt to escape the stuffiness.

They were not alone, a couple of Praetorian guards stood at their distinct positions as they always did and therefore the general simply ignored them.

Meanwhile Geta had to force himself to keep a straight face, when the traitor approached him as if nothing happened at all, as if he was not about to put a sword into his neck with those filthy senators - just as Julius Caesar got betrayed by his kin and the senate as well. The young Emperor would not let this happen again.

"Tell me, General, why did i call for you?"

Acacius brows furrowed, while he looked to the map table, which was standing alone in front of the great window. It was untouched.

"I thought you might answer me that, your Grace. The last time we talked, you granted me a pause before i will regroup my legions in Ostia and start the next campaign in Numidia."

Geta's laughter filled the room in response to the General's words and it took him even more strength to not scream at him.

"Oh, don't worry, Acacius. This plan hasn't changed yet."

Yet. A feeling of unease creeped up his body, as he stood still, his eyes locked on the pale, gingerblonde royal, who stood in front of him in a toga of black and gold.

"But let us be honest now, shall we? I question your loyality to me and my brother, to Rome. As i know, you're meeting with members of the senate," Geta called out and even though this was true, Acacius kept a straight face, hiding his fear in trained perfection.

"As you know, my dear wife is the daughter of senator Galba. Is it now regarded as treason to meet with my father-in-law?"

Geta stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Acacius in an instant, while his jaw clenched in anger. His mind was like a volcano, ready to erupt at any second.

"Do you think we're fools!?", he hissed with an even more aggressive undertone that grew louder with each word. Marcus had to tackle the urge to say 'Yes', in fact there was even so much more he wanted to say right now. That they were tyrants, mad, arrogant and overall spoiled little brats, which he cursed at every given second of his life.

"We know what you're up to Acacius - a snake amongst the men we regarded as the most loyal to our father and to us. How dare you turn against us and plot with those maggots from the senate, even though you've seen that they were not able to rule an Empire for yourself! Have you no respect for Emperor Septimius Severus, who gave you all what you're now!?"

It was too late, he obviously knew. And Acacius was not even able to put in words how much he hated himself for not being able to keep it as a secret long enough. It not only put his own life in danger but the rest of his family too, his wife... his daughter. His jaw clenched at the mere thought of the consequences that might errupt in the aftermath of this audience. Yet he couldn't hold back what was laying under his tongue for so long: "You father still holds my greatest respect and loyalty even after his passing... may the gods grant him peace in elysium. But i've seen your shortcomings many, many times. You lack the wisdom and restraint he had, yes maybe even the love he had for Rome and its people. You and your brother are not worthy of the crowns he placed upon your heads."

Geta's eye twitched and he grabbed a dagger, placing it right in front of Acacius' throat. His whole body trembled in pure wrath at the audacity of that General's words.

"I should kill you now Acacius! I should kill you and all those filthy senators for that treason!", he screamed at him, while his opponent only responded with a cold and collected gaze. This look alone made him Geta even more aggressive and hateful towards Marcus, but killing him would only create another problem - so he went with the path he had already planned in his mind.

"My brother was right, you are a Brutus. But we're not Julius Caesar", Geta hissed against Acacius, leaning his head to the side for a moment, as he studied his stern facial expression. Oh how much he hated it that he didn't fear him. The Emperor wanted to change that.

"We should start all over again, shall we? As a hero of Rome, the people won't be pleased with you being crucified publically... But we can still kill your wife... your daughter?", he started and noticed how - even for a second - the corners of Acacius' mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something against this. Now there was fear, something Acacius tried desperately not to show, but Geta still noticed.

A wide, knowing smile appeared on his face and he nodded in silent agreement. "Ah, now you see the consequences. Yes, i am not above killing you kin and let you watch... but it would be such a shame, such a waste... especially for your beautiful daughter. I wonder how you will explain to her, that you threw her young life away because of your pride"

The blade of his dagger was dangerously close as the tip touched his skin at his neck, while Acacius stood in an almost frozen position.

"I have a proposal for you, Acacius...it is the only option to safe your own life and the ones of those you love the most - wed your daughter to me."

Geta's word hit Marcus like a lightning bolt. His eyes widened in response to the request of the Emperor in front of him. And his heart broke in that very moment.

"I will not sell out my daughter like this", he answered with a firm tone in his voice, but Geta only smirked and leaned forward, whispering in his ear with an amused undertone. He knew that Marcus wasn't able to say 'No' in any way. He loved his daughter too much to watch her die.

"One option, General. She either becomes my wife - and i will make her Empress of Rome. Or she will be crucified alongside your pathetic senators..."

He would always choose her life, but at what cost.

_________________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon justnobodynothingmore fandomblogs-stuff justnobodynothingmore superblyspeedydragon deliciousfestsalad moon-390 lv9su harmfulb1tch apollonshootafar zalera8310 sweetffcts lvspedri soltik capitanostella weepingfashionwritingplaid labellapeaky

[rafecameronssl4t]

thinking about actress!reader who’s very much giving loewe it girl and her mysterious bf from her hometown obx until they hard launch during awards season when she walks in with a massive rock on her finger….(giving zendaya walking in the globes left hand first lmao)

just loveeee the idea of ceo!rafe & actress!reader being this hot power couple & everyone trying to figure out how long they’ve been together

Hard launch || CEO!Rafe Cameron x actress!reader

A/n: wait I acc love the concept of ceo!rafe x actress!reader 😃😃😃

Warnings: none!

Word count: 1,382

MASTERLIST (CEO!Rafe au masterlist)

The whispers had always been there. Fans speculated endlessly, dissecting blurry photos and random sightings. But no one could confirm anything—until now. The Golden Globes red carpet was abuzz with excitement, cameras flashing furiously as the biggest stars in Hollywood arrived in their finest attire.

Stepping out of the sleek, black Rolls-Royce, you radiated elegance in a custom Valentino gown, the fabric catching the light with every step. The crowd gasped as cameras flashed incessantly, capturing every detail. You offered your signature soft smile and a delicate wave, but it wasn’t just the gown or your effortlessly chic updo that set the internet ablaze.

It was the massive, glittering diamond perched on your left ring finger—a ring so large it seemed to have its own gravitational pull. The internet exploded. Social media was flooded with posts: "Is that an engagement ring on Y/N’s finger?!" "Who is the lucky guy?!" And most importantly, "How did she keep this a secret?!"

You walked the carpet with an effortless air, offering soft smiles and waves to the fans—the diamond unapologetically on display—sopping for a few brief interviews, but sidestepping every question about the ring with a cryptic smile. The mystery lingered, though, as you didn’t arrive with a date—or so they thought.

~

Inside the venue, the buzz only grew. You were seated near the front, your polished demeanour giving no indication of the chaos unfolding online. When your name was called for Best Actress in a Leading Role, the applause was thunderous. Rising gracefully, you glided toward the stage, your diamond catching the light with every step. As you accepted the golden statue, your voice was steady, heartfelt.

You thanked your director, your co-stars, and your team. But then your tone shifted, becoming softer, almost intimate. “And lastly,” you said, your eyes scanning the crowd before landing on someone just out of the camera’s reach, “to my fiancé, Rafe, for being my greatest support and my home. I love you.” The reaction was immediate. Gasps rippled through the audience, and the cameras frantically searched for this mysterious “Rafe.”

When they finally found him, the room fell silent in disbelief. Rafe Cameron, CEO of Cameron Development and a notoriously private multi-millionaire, sat composed in the front row, his tailored tuxedo impeccable and his expression calm. His sharp features softened as he looked at you, his piercing blue eyes radiating pride. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he offered you a subtle nod of approval.

The crowd’s shock only deepened when he lifted his hand, casually blowing you a kiss. The gesture, so unexpected and tender, made you laugh softly, a sound that carried through the microphone and caused the room to erupt in soft, charmed laughter. Even the most stoic faces couldn’t help but smile at the moment, the chemistry between you and Rafe palpable even from afar.

~

A week later, seated on a sleek morning show set, you addressed the world’s curiosity with grace. “First of all, congratulations on your Golden Globes win—and, of course, on your engagement!” the interviewer gushed, leaning forward with obvious excitement. “The internet is absolutely losing it over this. No one even knew you were dating someone, let alone Rafe Cameron. How did you pull this off?”

You laughed, a soft, genuine sound. “I’ve always been a very private person when it comes to my personal life. Rafe is the same way, which made it easier to keep things low-key. We weren’t hiding—we just chose to keep it to ourselves.” “Understandable, but we need to talk about this ring,” the interviewer said, motioning dramatically toward your hand. “It’s stunning. Did Rafe pick it out himself?”

Your smile turned fond as you glanced down at the enormous diamond. “He did,” you said, your voice softening. “He worked with a designer for months to make sure it was exactly what I’d love. He knows I’m not into anything too flashy, but he told me this one had to be special—and it is. It’s perfect.”

The interviewer tilted their head, their curiosity palpable. “So, how long have you two been together?” “A little over two years,” you revealed, your tone steady but warm. “We met at a charity gala. He was there on behalf of his company, and I was presenting. We started talking, and it just… clicked. We became friends first, and over time, it grew into something more.”

“Rafe Cameron is one of the most private figures in the business world. What’s it like dating someone outside of Hollywood?” You smiled, pausing thoughtfully before answering. “It’s refreshing, honestly. His world is so different from mine, and it helps keep me grounded. He’s incredibly driven but also the most supportive person I’ve ever known. He’s my biggest cheerleader, but he also keeps me humble.”

“And what do you think about all this attention now? Everyone’s calling you two the ultimate power couple.” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s flattering, but at the end of the day, we’re just two people who love each other. That’s what matters most to us.” The interviewer leaned in, clearly intrigued. “And where is Rafe right now? Surely he’s tuned in to watch this interview?” You laughed softly, a warm glint in your eyes.

“He’s probably watching this on his way to the airport for a business trip,” you revealed, a hint of amusement in your tone. “He’s always on the move, but he’s still incredibly present in our relationship. Whether it’s a quick FaceTime call before a meeting or sending me random pictures of his coffee because he knows I’d critique it, he’s always finding little ways to stay connected.” The interviewer raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly.

“So, this private romance you’ve shared—do you feel it’s been easier to navigate without the world watching?” “Absolutely,” you said, your voice steady but reflective. “Being private gave us the space to focus on each other without any outside pressure or distractions. In our world, it’s easy for relationships to become more about public perception than the people involved. We wanted to make sure we were solid before sharing it with everyone else.”

“And now that the everyone knows?” the interviewer pressed, their tone light but curious. You shrugged with a graceful smile. “We’re ready. The Golden Globes felt like the right moment—it wasn’t planned or calculated. I wanted to celebrate him as much as he celebrates me, and that felt like the perfect way to do it.” The interviewer smiled, nodding.

“It was such a genuine, beautiful moment. The internet is still recovering from the shock, though. People are obsessed with this pairing—Hollywood starlet and business mogul. What’s it like being in the spotlight together?” “It’s definitely new,” you admitted, your fingers instinctively grazing the diamond ring. “Rafe is used to being behind the scenes, so all this attention is a bit of an adjustment for him. But he’s handling it well—he’s pragmatic about most things. And we’ve always been a team, so we’re taking it one step at a time.”

“Well, you two seem to have a rock-solid foundation,” the interviewer said with a smile. “And judging by the fan reactions, I think people are already rooting for you as much as they root for your movies.” You chuckled, a hint of blush rising to your cheeks. “That’s sweet to hear. Honestly, we’re just two people trying to figure it all out like anyone else. But I’m grateful for all the love and support—it means a lot to both of us.”

As the segment wrapped up, the interviewer smiled warmly. “Thank you for sharing this part of your life with us. Congratulations again on your engagement and your win. We can’t wait to see what’s next for you—and for you and Rafe!” You nodded, your eyes glowing. “Thank you. It means so much to be able to share this moment. And I have a feeling there’s a lot more to come.”

The camera panned out as the show transitioned to commercial, leaving the audience captivated by your elegance and the sheer mystique of your love story. Online, the clip was already going viral, with fans dissecting every detail of your relationship and praising the unexpected yet perfect union of Hollywood’s understated it girl and the world’s most enigmatic bachelor.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

For the Article (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You're sent to cover the opening show of the Coven's next tour. Agatha Harkness, the lead singer, is magnetic. Luckily for you, she seems to think the same as you.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Swearing, oral (R giving), strap (R receiving), masturbating, mirror sex

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme

The crowd was buzzing around you. The music was loud, the thump reverberating through your ribcage, making your heart beat faster. The band onstage was captivating, there was no other word for it. The women were everything they promised to be, the kind that could easily be believed to be witches. They’d certainly cast a spell over the crowd.

Front woman Agatha Harkness was a clear fan favourite. Flouncing around the stage, flirting with any pretty thing in the front row, captivating blue eyes drawing you in, it was easy to see why her fan base had once been described as a cult. You found yourself watching her more often than the others. It might not be the most professional, but she drew the eye, and that was worth putting in the article.

You’d been sent by your boss to review the show, the first on their American tour. The others in the office had bemoaned their luck, busy on other stories when you got to go rock out. It didn’t help that you were the only member of the team who wasn’t a fan of the Coven going in.

Now? Well… you supposed you could see the appeal.

It shouldn’t have worked, the eclectic collection of people on the stage. Alice, the pianist, the child of a 70s star. Jen, the bassist, spending more time on social media than in rehearsal. Rio, the drummer, a wild card if ever there was one. Billy, the guitarist, a replacement for his own mother from the early days, younger than you thought was reasonable to have so much talent. Lilia, who seemed to fill in any small instrument that was needed in the song. And of course, Agatha, the showman.

It shouldn’t have worked, but standing there in the crowd, you’d be the first to admit that it did.

The air was charged, electricity moving through the crowd. You drank it in, soaked in the energy thrumming between the people. It was the kind of show that got the heart racing and the fingertips tingling. Something special was happening. Of that you were sure.

Later, once the last note had been played and the lights had flooded the auditorium, showing the crowd in all their glory at the end of the show, you watched them stream towards the exit. The excited chatter was familiar, almost comforting in its ordinariness.

You, taking a different turn, following the band’s manager backstage, felt a moment of anticipation. It was almost anxiety. You hadn’t gotten nervous about interviewing anyone since your early reporting days. Now, it was just routine.

Something about this band had you feeling butterflies at the thought of meeting them.

The greenroom backstage was not what you were expecting. Rio was sprawled over the small two seater couch, twirling her drumsticks above her head. Billy was hunched over a notebook, sitting on the ground criss cross apple sauce. Jen was perched in a chair, taking a selfie as she chatted to Lilia. Alice was slumped against one wall, arm resting on the top of a bent knee, listening in. Agatha, the one your eyes alighted on first, was in front of a mirror, leaning forward as her fingertip brushed over her lower lip.

“Hi,” you said, hoping to break through the tension in your stomach, “great show.”

Everyone liked compliments. Starting out on the right foot might let you in on some of the secrets behind the curtain. Everyone knew the band, everyone had heard the stories. You wanted to know the truth.

“Thanks,” Billy said, glancing up for only a moment before he went back to his notebook.

“You going to give us a good review?” Rio asked.

“I’m thinking about it,” you replied, “but I’d love to get some behind the scenes flavour.”

“You want the tea,” Billy drawled.

“Be nice,” Agatha said, before her eyes met yours in the mirror, “we’re here to make friends.”

“You don’t make friends,” Jen said.

That piqued your interest.

“What does she make?” you asked.

“Don’t listen to her. I’m very friendly,” Agatha purred.

You met her gaze again, trying not to let it show on your face how intrigued that comment made you. You were there on a job. You had to remain professional. There was no chance you’d be letting yourself be taken in by her, not when keeping your wits about you was necessary. And you thought it would be very necessary around her. She seemed like the kind of person who charmed her way into getting what she wanted.

The way her eyes swept over you made you think that in that moment she wanted you.

“What do you want from us?” Alice asked, sounding more tired than the rest of them. Just looking at her she seemed exhausted. Her hair stuck to her skin from the sweat still glistening on her forehead.

“Not much. I’m just going to hang out for half an hour, see what you’re like.” Honesty seemed like the best route with her, “then I’ll leave you be and I’ll go write up my article.”

“No interviews?” she asked.

“Nope,” you said.

“And this is all off the record?” she asked.

“I’m just here to see what you’re like as a group,” you said, “nothing else. I didn’t even bring any of my recording equipment.”

“Except your phone,” Rio drawled.

“I’ll hand it over for the half hour I’m here,” you said, pulling it out of your pocket.

A warm hand closed around yours, lingering before it pulled the phone from your grip. Glancing up, you found Agatha had managed to sneak up on you, close enough that you could see each individual eyelash. Your breath stuttered, not used to having someone so magnetic focusing all their power on you.

“I’ll keep this safe for you,” she murmured.

“I’m sure you will.”

A twinkle in her eye let you know you were walking a dangerous line. You were getting too close to flirting. And not in order to get her to open up and reveal more than she might want to. No, this was purely because you wanted to.

You could understand why so many people were clamouring to meet her.

You stepped around her, the space necessary for you to keep your head in her presence. Leaving the phone in her hand, you perched on edge of one of the tables, staring out at the group. Agatha’s hips swayed as she sauntered over, lowering into the seat by your hip with a flick of her hair.

“What did you think of the show?” Lilia asked.

“You’re all very talented. I’ve never been to one of your shows before,” you said, turning your attention to their small grouping.

“So we popped your cherry tonight?” Agatha asked, her chin coming to rest in the palm of her hand, gazing up at you from under eyelashes.

“That’s one way to phrase it,” you said, offering her a tight smile.

“Play nice,” Rio warned.

“I’m always nice,” she said, her hand landing on your thigh, “aren’t I being nice?”

You watcher her tongue run along her lower lip, painted red, white teeth flashing at you. Your own lips parted.

“Very nice,” you whispered.

Her hand squeezed your thigh and a flush of heat went through you. She was still gazing up at you with smouldering eyes, hand burning through the denim of your jeans. You had to drag your eyes away from her, physically stopping yourself from looking at her.

“You enjoyed yourself then?” Lilia asked, ignoring whatever it was Agatha was doing to you.

“I’ve had a very enjoyable evening,” you replied, trying to slip back into professionalism.

“No need for it to end so soon,” Agatha said, snatching your attention back.

She was the definition of temptation. Leaning into your body, her hand still on your thigh, climbing higher, her shirt open down to her navel giving you quite the eyeful from your position. You wanted to lick a long line between those breasts. You bet she tasted like heaven.

“There’s nothing stopping us from continuing it after this little meeting,” she said, voice lowering into a seductive purr.

“That would hardly be professional,” you said.

“You’ll be off the clock,” she said, leaning closer, “nothing but two people getting to know each other better.”

“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” you asked as you lowered your head towards her.

The loud cackle startled you. Jerking away, you found Rio laughing, head tipped back, almost wild in her delight. The glower that passed over Agatha’s face was fascinating before she smoothed it over, offering you a pleasant smile. Billy’s eye roll felt natural, like something he’d done plenty of times before.

You doubted you were the first one Agatha had tried to seduce after a show.

“Why haven’t you ever been to one of our shows before?” Jen asked, glancing up from her phone.

You weren’t sure how to answer it without admitting you weren’t exactly a fan of theirs. Not that you hated their music, just that you’d never been particularly invested in it.

“Probably because journalists aren’t paid that much,” Billy said.

“They’re paid enough,” Alice said.

“Leave her be. She’s under no obligation to spend her money on us,” Agatha said, hand slipping up your thigh another inch.

“Maybe I’ll have to come see another. I had no idea you put on such a fun show,” you said.

“No need to stroke our egos. Just tell us what you really think,” Rio said.

You considered her a moment that stretched out as you held eye contact with her. You weren’t sure you liked being so seen, especially by a stranger.

“Your music is fine,” you said, “it’s just not my favourite.”

“And what is your favourite?” Agatha asked, voice turning sultry, as if asking something far more interesting than your taste in music.

“A closely guarded secret from those I’m writing articles about,” you replied.

Her head tipped back as she laughed, full and throaty, the kind that made you wonder if this was the truth or another performance to make you like her. You had to admit, it was working on you.

“Well, now I definitely have to get you off the clock, hon,” she said.

Standing, her other hand landed on the other thigh, pushing you up to sit properly on the table. She stepped between your knees, fingers dragging up your legs, turning your brain fuzzy. Your chin tilted up, an automatic response to your position. Her gaze darkened, focusing on your mouth for longer than was appropriate.

“This is definitely not professional,” you said, voice whisper quiet.

“Fuck professional,” she said, “you already know what you’re going to write. This is just between you and me.”

“And the rest of us you’re forcing to watch this pathetic attempt at seduction,” Billy drawled.

Your cheeks heated, becoming aware of the audience to your embarrassment. Eyes were turned towards the two of you, watching. You shook your head, pushing Agatha back. Sliding onto your feet you looked around.

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” you said, “I already know what I’m going to write. Thank you all for your time.”

Offering a tight smile, you turned on your heels and fled out of the room. Cursing your own stupidity, you beat a retreat towards the exit, wanting to get home and not linger on the way that woman had made you feel with so little effort. There had to be something wrong with you to lose your head so quickly. You were trained better than that.

It wasn’t until someone fell into step beside you that you became aware of the sound of heels on the concrete floor following you. You glanced over, unsurprised when the smirking face of Agatha was looking back. You sighed, slowing your pace until you’d stopped just feet from the exit.

“You left in rather a hurry there, hon,” she said.

“I don’t want to keep you from whatever after party you had planned,” you replied.

“It’ll be no celebration without you there,” she said.

She took a step towards you and you took an answering one back. Her lips pulled up into a small smile, doing it again. When your back hit the wall, you realised you’d made a mistake. You’d let her corner you, alone, when the only thing you wanted was space to screw your head back on right.

“You left your phone,” she whispered, hand landing beside your head against the wall.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” you said.

A hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. Your breath hitched and a look of pride passed over her face. Her body slotted along yours, the hand on your ass pulling you closer, hips aligning in a way that made your thoughts scatter. Her nose ran along your jawline before her lips pressed to the vulnerable place behind your jaw. The noise you made as embarrassing, want and shame mingling together.

“Come celebrate with me,” she murmured into your skin.

There wasn’t any question about denying her request.

Her hotel room was almost clinical, all white sheets and bright lights. Clothes spilled out of multiple suitcases, flung over the couch and the bed. Agatha pushed them aside, uncaring when they fell to the floor as she reached for you.

You fell onto the bed in the cage of her arms, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. The entire trip back to the hotel had been a masterclass in foreplay. Her hands had wandered as she whispered dirty things in your ear. Her lips would barely brush your skin and you’d shiver in the back of the car, leaning into her as she made you whimper for her touch.

Her tongue swept into your mouth, making you groan, legs curling around her hips. Her hands weren’t careful as they dragged down your body, pushing up underneath your shirt, nails scraping over your skin. You arched up into her touch, offering yourself to her.

Dragging the shirt from your body, she sat back for a moment, eyes tracing over your exposed chest. Fingers tangling in her hair, you pulled her back down, kissing her long and deep. Her hands were swift to divest you of the bra you were wearing, leaving you bare to her touch.

Her lips trailed down your body, your gasp only making her smile into your skin. Her tongue traced around one nipple, fingertips mirroring her movements on the other. You arched into her mouth, fingers tightening in her hair, pressing her to you, refusing to let her go. You were gasping her name. Blue eyes found yours, burning with lust, watching the way you responded to her.

You dragged her back up, kissing her, needing her in a very fundamental way. She laughed into your mouth, hands stroking over your skin. Rolling her, you straddled her waist, staring down at her. So much skin on display and yet not nearly enough. Ducking down, you did as you’d been thinking about since seeing her, running your tongue from navel to neck. Her groan was filthy, wriggling beneath you.

You were careful as you peeled the clothes from her body, lavishing attention on every new inch of skin you revealed. She squirmed, her voice raspy as she told you to get on with it. Grinning up from between her thighs, you waited for the sharp tug on your hair.

Her hips canted up into your mouth as you devoured her. Even in pleasure, she was musical, the noises she was making a symphony to your ears. Your hands held her legs open, refusing to let them close around your head, wanting her wider to get deeper, to hear the deep moans you could draw from her. Her hand was forcing you harder against her, rocking against your face.

You let her use you however she wanted. Her pleasure only made the throbbing between your own legs worse. Staring up her body, you watched as her lips parted, her hand working at her own breast.

She wasn’t quiet as she came, the noise loud, ringing in your ears as you lapped at her. You could spend hours there, doing this over and over again. This was a better show than the one she’d put on earlier that night, far more compelling to you. She hissed as you kept going, wanting to see it again.

With a grip stronger than you were expecting, she pulled you away, throwing you back down onto the mattress. She crawled up your body, lips trailing kisses up your bare skin, making you whimper. It was inconceivable how she made you feel with such simple actions.

She tugged your jeans off, a flurry of movement that had you pressing a hand to your eyes, squeezing shut when you felt her fingers on your wet heat. A featherlight touch circling over your clit had you whimpering, wanting more, ready to beg for it.

“Stay right there,” she whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You watched as she stood from the bed, gloriously naked, uncaring and confident in her own body. Your own fingers slipped down your body, brushing over your clit, watching as she rummaged through her luggage. She glanced over her shoulder, watching for a moment, eyes darkening as she focused on your hand.

“You’re too fucking gorgeous, you know that right?,” she said before going back to whatever she was doing.

When your finger slipped in, your eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh on your lips. Some relief was better than nothing. You were beyond ready for an orgasm of your own.

Fingers curled around your ankles, startling you. Your hand fell away from your hot cunt, staring at the sight of Agatha at the foot of the bed. More importantly, you were staring at the heavy purple strap bobbing between her legs.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re ruined for anyone else,” she told you, her hold tightening on your ankle.

“Better get on with it then,” you said, feigning a cockiness you couldn’t feel in your breathless state.

Her chuckle was warm, throaty, making you reach for her. She fell over you, kissing you deeply until all thoughts fled. You didn’t even notice as her hands manhandled you until her lips disconnected from yours. Positioned on your hands and knees, her lips trailed down your spine, making you whine. Her hands were palming at your ass as she took her time, uncaring of how you were trying to wiggle closer.

“You’re dripping, hon,” she groaned before her teeth sunk into one cheek.

You pressed back into her, your own moan loud to your ears. Her tongue soothed over the mark before she rose. One hand on your hips steadied her as the other curled around your body, running through your folds. Whimpering, you looked over your shoulder.

“Are you ready for me?” she asked just as her finger pressed down on your clit.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please.”

“Say it again,” she commanded.

“Please.”

The tip of her strap nudged at your entrance.

“Again.”

“Please.”

She pushed in, both hands grasping your hips, rough and demanding as she slid in to the hilt. Her name was nothing but a moan, your own hips pressing back into her. She was slow as she pulled out before thrusting forward again.

“Look at how well you take me,” she murmured, “you make such a pretty sight.”

One of her hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head up from where it had fallen forward. Staring back at you was your own image, a mirror placed in the perfect position to show you as she thrust into you. Your mouth fell open, watching your two bodies move together.

Her hands were back on your hips, throwing back her wild hair as she increased the pace of her thrusts. You couldn’t stop watching, not realising how much of a turn it would be to watch yourself get fucked by the rock star. Her grip was tight, almost painful, as she began to pound into you.

You were a babbling mess, begging for more, enamoured by the sight of the two of you. Her burning eyes found yours in the mirror, locking on, refusing to let you look away. Your internal walls were beginning to flutter, your desperation obvious. She grinned, slowing down her pace, making you whine like the brat you knew you could be.

“I should bring you on tour with me,” she said, tortuous slow thrusts keeping you on the edge but not enough to push you over, “you’re such a good stress relief toy.”

“Agatha,” you groaned.

“I could do this every night,” she said.

“Please.” You tried to press back into her faster than she wanted. The tight grip she had on your hips kept you in place.

“Would you like to come with us?” she asked.

You nodded your head, knowing it was ridiculous, knowing there was no chance you’d be joining her on the tour. But the thought of having more of this, to be given this every night for months on end, was one that you wanted desperately. You wanted to be owned by her, to be her bitch, to submit to her until you forgot your own name.

Her pace increased agains until she was slamming into you, the slap of skin loud in the room as you moaned like the whore she made you. Right before your orgasm hit, your elbows gave you, sending you face first into the mattress, giving her an angle that let her hit deeper within you. Her name was a strangled gasp and then you were clamping down on her strap, lost in the feeling of fire in your veins and pleasure rocketing through your body. Her slow stroks eased you through it before she finally pulled completely from you.

Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling, gasping for breath. You passed a hand over your face, overwhelmed by how good it had been. A quick fuck with a one night stand wasn’t meant to rock your world quite the way Agatha had. You listened as she did something by the edge of the mattress.

The bed dipped as she drew closer. She swooped down, kissing you long and deep and dirty, making you curl your arms around her waist. Repositioning you to curl against her side as she lent against the headboard, she was slow to draw away, hand stroking along your ribs.

“We’re leaving for the next stop on the tour tomorrow morning,” she said.

You knew this song. Sitting up, you pulled out of her hold.

“Right, yeah, of course,” you said, “well, thank you for the celebration.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, arms wrapping around your waist, front pressed to your back.

“Home?” you said, unsure what was going on. This was not how your usual one night stands went.

“I suppose you will have to pack but it’s late. Do that tomorrow,” she said, lips pressing to your bare shoulders, turning you back into liquid heat.

“Pack?” you asked while your brain could still produce thoughts that weren’t just about the feel of her against you.

“You’ll need things while you’re on tour with us,” she replied, a whisper into your skin.

“On tour? I can’t drop everything and follow you around the country,” you said, turning in her arms to look at her properly.

Her long fingers pushed your hair out of your face but her lips were pursed in displeasure. Your fingertips ran along her collarbone, feeling the way the bone shifted under her skin as she shifted away from you.

“You said you wanted to come with me,” she said.

“I thought… I thought it was just a heat of the moment request,” you said, peering into her eyes.

“I don’t ask every beautiful woman I fuck to join me on the road,” she said.

“You seriously want me to go with you?”

Her hands on your waist pulled you closer until you were straddling her lap. Your fingers pushed into her hair, tangling in it, tilting her face up towards you.

“Come with me, hon,” she said, “join me on the road.”

You felt crazy for actually considering it.

“I’ll have to talk to my boss,” you said.

“Of course,” she said.

“I can’t lose my job,” you said, “and fair warning but I don’t exactly have any savings.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of you,” she said.

You considered her for a moment before you nodded your head. She brightened, your smile answering hers. You lent down, kissing her again, feeling insane for agreeing but not sure you could stop yourself even if you’d wanted to. There was something about Agatha Harkness that made you want to do things you knew you shouldn’t.

But you sensed it would be worth it.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

I love ur writing sm, like I would worship you if you wrote this request, basically, you are the 9th member of skz, yall are all dating, and today, they all had a concert. The first half of it went fine, but somewhere in the second half, you all heard gunshots, you reacting the fastest, saw them heading to (member of your choice) so you shove them out of the way while you take the bullet (chivalrous ikr). The members all immediately stop the concert despite u reassuring then you could finish (with blood everywhere) then the ending is just comfort and angst bc they didn't sallow u to do anything, and you got bored. Plsss take ur time if ur going to make this, I will literally cherish this with my heart if you make it

𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕓𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕖?

Warning: Angst

Summary: Request!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It happened so fast.

One second, Y/N was standing next to Felix and Han, laughing and joking around with them, and the next, there was a blood-curdling scream that shattered the lighthearted atmosphere.

"Guys, duck!" Y/N screamed, her voice sharp and urgent.

She barely had time to process what was happening before instinct took over. In a split second, she shoved Felix and Han out of the way, her hands landing on their shoulders with enough force to knock them off balance. The world seemed to slow as they stumbled back, confusion still clouding their faces.

"Y/N—what—?" Felix started to say, but his words were cut off by the deafening sound of something heavy crashing against the floor.

The moment she pushed them away, Y/N’s eyes darted to the source of the danger. She had been watching them—Felix, Han, and the rest of the group—having fun, playing with the toys and gifts they had gotten from STAY. It was supposed to be a lighthearted day, a sign-meet with fans, some laughter, and silly moments. But something had felt off all day. The atmosphere felt thinner, like the air itself was stretched too tight, and Changbin had been out with a stomach bug, so the energy was lower than usual. They didn’t want to do the event, but it had been scheduled. They had no choice.

They’d gathered so many toys and gifts from STAY that it seemed like they were almost swimming in them. But right now, they were just strolling on stage, talking casually to the fans in the crowd. Y/N had been teasing Chan all day—playfully, of course. Then she had moved on to teasing the members of the Racha subunit—Felix and Han—just like she always did.

"Y/Nnie, look," Felix giggled, suddenly putting a pair of bunny ears on her head.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head in amusement as she grabbed a pair of oversized sunglasses from one of the gifts. "I look ridiculous," she said, still smiling.

"Let's take a picture!" Han beamed, grabbing the selfie stick and clicking a few shots, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Y/N held up a tiny pony plushie in front of them, laughing at how tiny it was. "Look what STAY got me," she giggled, passing it to the two of them.

The pair squatted down, completely entranced by the toy, their faces lighting up with genuine curiosity. Y/N snapped a few pictures of them, capturing how adorable they looked. She smiled softly, feeling a deep warmth in her chest. These were the moments she treasured—the small, quiet seconds when everything felt perfect.

Her gaze shifted over to Hyunjin, who was laughing with his usual carefree energy. She raised an eyebrow, confused, before her eyes landed on Chan.

The sight that met her eyes made her stifle a laugh. Chan, their leader, was wearing a tiara. It was completely ridiculous.

"So silly," she thought, shaking her head with a grin. She opened her mouth to call out to the crowd.

"Stay, don't you think our leader is a little too old to be a princess?" she teased, her voice light and playful.

Before she could even finish her sentence, she heard Chan yell, "Hey!" into the microphone, and a few giggles escaped from the crowd.

STAY responded with loud, drawn-out "nooo's," their laughter ringing out. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully at them but kept her focus on Han and Felix, who were still deeply engrossed in the tiny pony toy.

But something didn’t feel right. A strange sense of unease settled in her chest, making her skin crawl. She was on high alert now, her body rigid as her eyes scanned the surroundings. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

And then it happened.

A sound.

It was faint at first—a click, barely noticeable over the laughter and chatter around her. But it was enough to make Y/N freeze. The sound sent a jolt of adrenaline straight through her, and her military training kicked in. She had been through safety drills before debut, and she knew exactly what that sound was.

A gunshot.

Before she could react, a blur of motion caught her eye. A figure—clad in a large hoodie, with Felix’s SKZOO merch clearly visible—stood up from the crowd. The person’s face was obscured, but their intent was clear. The girl was shaking, tears streaking down her face, but her hands were steady as she raised the weapon in their direction.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Y/N didn’t have time to think. The world moved in slow motion as she lunged forward, adrenaline flooding her body.

"NO!" Y/N screamed, her hands pushing Han and Felix out of the way just as the girl pulled the trigger.

The loud bang of the gunshot reverberated in her ears as Y/N threw herself onto the ground, the sharp, metallic scent of fear thick in the air. Felix and Han hit the floor in a tangle of limbs, their faces contorted in confusion and terror. But Y/N barely noticed.

Her eyes were trained on the girl. The gun had been aimed at the boys, and Y/N’s body had moved before her mind could even catch up.

Everything happened so fast. One second, they were all laughing and smiling, and the next, Y/N had just saved their lives.

But the danger wasn't over. The moment her body hit the ground, she heard the sound of people shouting, running, and chaos erupting all around her.

Security was swift, moving through the chaos like trained professionals, their hands outstretched to clear the crowd and usher the members away from danger. But in the chaos, Felix crawled toward her, his face twisted in panic. His hands grasped at her arm, pulling her closer as he let out a strangled yelp of distress.

"Y/N! No, no, no!" he cried, his voice breaking.

She could barely move, her body feeling heavy and unresponsive. The adrenaline rush was fading, and all that was left was pain. As security worked to move her out of harm's way, Y/N’s side felt like it was on fire. It stung with every movement, sharp and unbearable. She forced her eyes open, her vision hazy, and that’s when she saw it.

Blood.

It was seeping through the fabric of her crop top, dark and spreading quickly. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Y/N?!" Han’s voice was frantic, barely audible over the chaos, but she could hear the terror in his tone as he tried to reach her. His voice cracked. "Oh my God… Y/N!"

Through the blur of bodies and flashing lights, she saw Chan, Hyunjin, I.N, and Seungmin being pushed away, separated from the group. But even from a distance, Y/N could hear Chan's voice—loud, desperate, shouting for them.

"Do something!" Felix screamed at the security guard who was already dialing 911, his voice thick with panic.

"Y/N? Can you hear me?" Han sobbed, his hands trembling as he tried to pull off her tight clothes to check the wound, his movements erratic in his panic. Felix had moved to her side, gently cradling her head in his hands, trying to keep her conscious.

"We need backup!" the security guard shouted, his voice tense as he spoke into his radio.

Y/N could barely register what was happening. Everything was moving too fast, and she felt too much, too much pressure, too much noise, too many people around her.

"Guys? Where are you?!" I.N shouted, pushing through the commotion, his voice filled with alarm as he searched frantically for his friends.

"Get Chan, I.N!" Felix yelled, his eyes wild with fear. "She got shot! Get him now!"

I.N froze for a second, stunned by the reality of the situation. His gaze swept over Y/N’s body, the blood staining her clothes, and his eyes went wide in shock. "What the hell?!" he gasped, his voice shaking as he took a step back.

"Get Chan, now! Go!" Han shouted again, his voice hoarse from the panic that was threatening to consume him. He reached down, trying to stop the bleeding, but his hands shook too much to do anything useful. He was a mess, just as terrified as Felix.

"Ow..." Y/N gasped, the pain intensifying now that the adrenaline was wearing off. A sharp, searing ache shot through her abdomen, and she couldn’t stop the scream that tore from her throat. It was raw, desperate, and filled with a pain she couldn’t even understand.

Everyone was crowding around her, too many hands, too much noise, too much pressure. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She wanted them all to stop.

"Felix? Han?" she gasped, her chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked breaths. She felt like she was suffocating. "Please... please, let me go." Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. She couldn’t stand it—everything was too much. She wanted space. She wanted air.

"Baby, we’re right here," Felix’s voice was soft, but there was desperation in it. He was cradling her head, his fingers gentle against her skin. "We’re not going anywhere. We're right here, okay?"

"Chan... Chan..." Y/N whimpered, her hands trembling as she reached out for anything, anything to grab onto. Her fingers found nothing but air. She could feel the pain growing, spreading through her body, and she knew she couldn’t last much longer without him.

"Chan..." she repeated, her voice breaking as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to hold on.

The paramedics were on her now, their hands moving quickly as they hooked her up to various machines, pushing IVs into her arms, trying to stabilize her. Y/N barely felt it. The sharp prick of the needles was nothing compared to the agony she felt in her abdomen.

"We need space!" one of the paramedics barked, his voice cold and professional, as the others worked to stabilize her. The security guards, looking frantic themselves, began pushing Felix and Han away to give the paramedics room to work.

"No!" Felix shouted, struggling against the security guard’s hold. His heart was hammering in his chest. "I need to be right here! She’s claustrophobic—don’t you see? She’ll panic if you take us away!"

"Please, we need space to work!" the paramedic insisted, his voice hardening as he tried to maintain control of the situation.

But Felix wasn’t backing down. He twisted in the guard’s grip, desperation clear on his face. "No! You don’t understand! She’ll freak out! She needs us! She needs me!"

"Where is she?! Where is she?!" Chan’s voice rang through the air, raw with panic as he shoved his way through the crowd. His eyes were bloodshot, his face streaked with tears, and his entire body trembled with rage and fear.

I.N had reached him, breathless from running, and before he could say anything, Chan’s eyes locked onto him, wild and frantic. "Where is she?!" he demanded again, his voice breaking.

"She’s over here! She’s over here!" I.N shouted, pointing through the crowd. "They’re working on her, Chan. They’re trying to save her."

The scene in front of him was like a nightmare. Chan’s heart stopped for a moment as he caught sight of Y/N, bloodied and pale, surrounded by paramedics, with Felix and Han still hovering anxiously at her side. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

He had to get to her. He had too. He couldn’t lose her.

With one final push, Chan broke through the crowd, his eyes wide, his breath ragged. "Y/N!" he cried, reaching for her.

His hands gripped hers with a desperation that didn’t care about the blood soaking into his clothes. The warmth of her skin, so pale and lifeless, felt like the last connection he had to her.

"We need to transfer her now," the paramedic said, his voice steady but urgent. "I’m sorry, sir. You can ride with us if you’d like."

Chan barely heard him. His focus was on Y/N, on her cold hand slipping from his as the paramedics gently lifted her onto the stretcher. His grip faltered, but he didn’t want to let go. Please don’t leave me, his mind screamed, but reality was moving too fast.

“Y-yeah, I’m coming,” he whispered, wiping his face with the back of his hand, trying to clear the tears, but it didn’t matter. They kept coming. He took a shaky breath and stood up, his legs feeling like they might collapse beneath him. He had to move.

“I need Lee Know. Where is he?” Chan asked, his voice hoarse as he searched frantically for a familiar face.

One of the managers, still on the phone, glanced up from her conversation. “His changing room. He doesn’t know anything’s going on right now,” she said quickly, cutting off the call. “Go get Lee Know now,” she ordered another staff member, who immediately ran off in search of the missing member.

Chan nodded, turning to go after Y/N’s stretcher, but a shout stopped him in his tracks.

“Hyung!”

His heart skipped a beat. He turned, finding Felix in I.N’s arms, his face streaked with tears, his body shaking violently. Han, still in a state of panic, had managed to get through the crowd and was now crumpled into Chan’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

“This is my fault, hyung! This is all my fault!” Han choked out between gasps for air, his voice thick with guilt. “She won’t forgive me, she won’t forgive me…”

Chan’s heart broke for him. He pulled Han closer, trying to soothe him, even though his own chest felt like it was being crushed. “Hey… shh,” he cooed softly, brushing his hand through Han’s hair. “Stop. It’s not your fault. You hear me? None of this is your fault. Don’t think like that.”

Han’s sobs only grew louder, and Chan, desperate to calm him, took off his sweater and wrapped it around Han’s shoulders. He was only wearing a vest, and Chan could see how shaken and cold he was. “Let��s go to the hospital, yeah?” Chan said, his voice firm but gentle.

Han nodded slowly, wiping his face with a trembling hand. “Yeah… yeah, hyung.”

Before they could move, another voice cut through the commotion, sharp and full of rage.

“Hyung?! What the hell?!”

Chan turned to find Lee Know standing at the edge of the crowd, his face flushed with anger and confusion. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes—bloodshot from lack of sleep and stress—were scanning the room in disbelief.

“Why wasn’t I told before? Where is she? What the hell happened?” Lee Know was seething, his voice low but furious, and Chan felt his stomach drop.

“She’s with the paramedics,” Chan said quickly, trying to keep his voice steady despite the chaos. “I need you to take the kids and meet me at the hospital. Please.”

Lee Know barely seemed to hear him. His eyes were still darting around the room, searching for something, anything, that could make sense of the mess. “Okay, but if she dies, I swear to God…” His voice trembled with emotion, a dangerous edge creeping into his words. “I’ll sue this company. I don’t care about my image. If anything happens to her…”

“Lee Know, not now, please…” Chan interrupted, his voice pleading as he grabbed his phone from the assistant who had been trying to help him. He needed to leave. He needed to be with her. “Just take care of the kids. Get them to the hospital.”

Lee Know nodded sharply, his face tight with a mix of anger and worry. He didn’t say anything more as he reached for Han, pulling him gently out of Chan’s arms. “I got you, Han. Let’s go.”

Chan didn’t have time to process it all. He was already rushing through the crowd, trying to catch up with the paramedics. His mind was a blur, thoughts racing too fast to make sense of them. All that mattered was Y/N. He had to be with her.

As he finally caught up with the paramedics, his heart skipped again. He sat in the back as he watched them work. He could hear them talking to each other, medical jargon flying over his head, but he didn’t care about any of it. His eyes were fixed on Y/N’s pale form, her chest rising and falling with the aid of an oxygen mask. Her face was still, and the blood on her clothes haunted him, more than any words could.

"Y/N…" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please, stay with me. Please."

One of the paramedics glanced at him, then at Y/N. "We’re almost there, sir. We need you to stay calm. We’ll do everything we can."

But Chan barely heard them. His grip on his phone tightened, his thumb brushing over the screen as he dialed Changbin, his mind only focused on one thing: whoever did this had to pay.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you @galaxy4489!

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[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ5 CUTE LITTLE MOMENTS * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Chris is deeply in love with Y/N and isn't ashamed to show it; OR, 5 cute little moments between Chris and Y/N.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

1. Surprise on tour

A mixture of nervousness and euphoria coursed freely through Chris's veins as he prepared to enter the stage. The boy discovered after his first tour alongside his brothers that the sensations of being on a stage, surrounded by people who adore him, were very similar to the sensation of an orgasm. And he loved it.

As soon as the lights came up and the opening song started playing, he found himself fully immersed in the energy of the crowd.

While he and his brothers went through their usual fan interactions, Chris couldn't get Y/N out of his mind. He wanted her to be there with him, sharing this special moment with him and his brothers.

When it was time to take the break to talk to the fans again, Chris took a few seconds to survey the crowd in front of him, sweeping his blue eyes over each head he saw.

Until he founded her.

He frowned automatically, squinting his eyes into thin lines to try and see better, quickly realizing that it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him, Y/N was really there.

"Wait! Wait, can I- Oh my God." Chris interrupted Nick, who was speaking into his own microphone, raising his right hand towards his brother and holding it in the air, telling him to shut up silently. "Baby? Is that... Is that really you?"

Y/N - who was surrounded by fans who recognized her the moment she appeared there - felt her cheeks take on a reddish hue almost instantly, her eyes filling with tears from being able to interact in person with Chris after so many weeks apart.

The girl knew he couldn't hear her even if she screamed, so she just nodded, a huge smile decorating her face.

"Is Y/N here?" Matt's voice sounded over the speaker, his body moving closer to his brother's as he tried to find her in his line of sight. “Oh, hey, Y/N!”

"Guys, my amazing girlfriend, Y/N, is here with us tonight!" Chris shouted into the microphone, raising his free hand and waving his fingers in the air in euphoria, holding himself back from jumping in place.

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers as Chris explained how Y/N wasn't going on tour with them because of her studies. His voice could barely hide his excitement when talking about her, the volume having a constant fight with the loud volume of the fans' screams.

"Wow, it feels like I haven't seen you in weeks." Chris teased, throwing a wink her way.

Nick's laugh was heard right next to him, his voice echoing through the speaker with a random comment that Chris didn't try to understand, his eyes fixed on his girl as his heart overflowed with love.

"You look prettier than ever, babe." Chris flirted, his tongue escaping between his lips and wetting them as his ears were filled again by the euphoric screams of the crowd.

Y/N could only laugh out loud in nervousness and shyness, her red cheeks glowing under the colored lights. Some fans around her made funny comments about the situation, joking - or not - about how they wanted to be in her place.

It was safe to say that the night of the show was filled with comments and flirtations from Chris directed at Y/N, the boy having to hold himself back for long minutes to not run down the stage towards his girl arms.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2. Mispronounciation

"Is that açaí, Nick?" Chris's question caught Y/N's attention, who took her eyes off the nugget shelves she was analyzing in one of the freezers a few steps away from the triplets, now focusing on them.

"Did I hear açaí?" Her voice echoed in excitement, her hands quickly grabbing the package of nuggets that she liked the most before returning to the boys, placing it inside the cart with the other frozen products before standing next to Nick, analyzing the container in his hands. "Oh, it is! I want it, please?"

"Of course, we'll take it." Nick quickly responded, nodding his head as he turned, facing the cart and allowing the freezer door to close behind his back.

"Can we have condensed milk and milk powder to put in it? Oh, oh, and banana too!" The girl pleaded, her voice full of excitement as she clasped her hands in front of her chest, raising her eyes towards Chris and widening them slightly.

"Sure, babe..." Chris nodded almost instantly, unable to say no to his girl. "I still don't understand how she can have açaí with condensed milk and milk powder." He muttered only for the camera to catch it, failing miserably as his tone came out loud enough for Y/N and his brothers to hear it.

"Hey! It's the only right way to have açaí, okay?" Y/N argued, rolling her eyes playfully and turning back to the cart, arranging the container next to the other frozen products, as she did with the nuggets, being the type of girl that liked to organize her groceries.

"Guys, look! It's prepackaged, but we did find some asparagus." Matt interrupted the silence seconds after, rescuing the medium package of asparagus and quickly showing it to the lens with a proud smile on his face.

"I love aspargos so much. Your cooking will be the best in this series you guys are making, Matt." Y/N murmured, smiling big and pointing with her chin at the package while Matt put it back on its place.

"What did you say?" Nick asked with a frown. Being a little away from the three made it difficult for him to understand what they were saying, and it worsened with her pronunciation.

"Um... aspargos?" The girl repeated, frowning in confusion.

"The pronunciation is wrong, babe. You say it like s-par-gus." Chris corrected gently, lowering the camera slightly and watching her with caring eyes.

He loved the little pronunciation mistakes his girl made. He understood that she was still learning English and that her Brazilian accent could make it difficult to say one word and another, and all that made him fall in love again every day.

"Oh." Y/N bit her lower lip lightly, feeling her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, receiving an encouraging smile from Matt, who watched them silently while Nick was still collecting products from that aisle.

"Hey, it's okay, pretty girl. It's just one word, let's try it together, okay?" Chris assured her, handing the camera to Matt and approaching his girlfriend, taking her hands and squeezing her fingers gently.

The girl nodded, maintaining her eyes on her boyfriend's face before focusing them on his lips, watching him saying the word again before trying it herself.

"S-par-gus. Asparagus." She repeated slowly, trying to imitate the pronunciation and accent Chris had shown her, finally saying it correctly.

"That's it, babe. You did it!" Chris smiled big, his voice echoing louder than before and euphoria exuding from his body. He quickly pulled her into a big hug, sealing the right side of her forehead with his lips for long seconds.

extra - comments:

"It's so incredible to see how Y/N has evolved every day with her english pronunciation 🥺"

"the way Chris is patient and kind in correcting her 😭"

"Chris helping Y/N pronounce the word in the right way was the best thing I've seen today 😔✋🏻"

"I agree with her, açaí with condensed milk and milk powder is the best thing in the world 🤭"

"have a boyfriend who supports you like Chris does for Y/N 😫😫"

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3. Euphoric mood

It was a busy day for Chris and his brothers. They were rushing from one appointment to another, trying to keep up with all the demands of the channel and their brands. However, what would normally be a busy day became even more chaotic due to Chris's uncontrollable euphoria.

From the moment he woke up, Chris was in full hyperactivity mode. He talked nonstop, jumping from one topic to another with dizzying rapidity. His brothers were beginning to get irritated by his incessant energy, unable to keep up with the frantic pace of his thoughts.

"Chris, bro, you need to calm down a little." Matt muttered, frowning as he tried to keep up with his brother's rapid-fire conversation.

"No, wait! I spoke to a friend who is going to medical school, Josh, you know him." Chris ignored him, continuing to speak without slowing down, his words coming out jumbled. "And if you had a broken bone or a sprain, you'd know already, you know? It's been so long since-"

"Chris, slow down." Nick shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, feeling overwhelmed by the torrent of information coming out of Chris's mouth since hours before.

Chris stopped abruptly, looking at his brothers with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"What? I'm just trying to help!"

Matt sighed, straightening in his seat on the couch, trying to find the right words to express his frustration.

"Chris, we understand you're trying to help me with my ankle, but you're driving us crazy with all this energy. We need a moment."

Before Chris could say anything, Y/N - who was in the kitchen preparing an afternoon snack for them - turned from her place and walked slowly into the living room, her hands holding a metal tray with the food, watching the scene with understanding eyes. She had noticed Chris's agitated state since the beginning of the day and knew it was time to intervene.

"Chris, honey." She called softly, placing the tray on the television stand and approaching him. "Why don't you sit down for a bit and relax? You're stressing yourself out."

"But baby, Matt has been in pain for days and doesn't want to take care of the problem, so I'm coming with the solution." Chris directed his gaze at her, frowning and crossing his arms like a child.

"I know, my love, and I think the boys understand that too. Why don't we watch something for a while? Your day was tiring as well. Maybe a little rest will help everyone, okay?" Y/N smiled gently, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

She guided him to the couch and made him sit with his back against the soft backrest, sitting next to him and raising her right hand, taking it to his head, stroking his hair gently with her long nails. Chris felt instantly calmer, his frantic mind slowing down.

Nick and Matt watched in surprise and amusement as Y/N calmed Chris with her simple presence and caring gesture. They never got tired of seeing the gigantic effect the girl had on their brother.

"Are you a magician or something?" Nick teased, earning a middle finger from Chris and a laugh from Y/N in response before finally grabbing his lunch from the tray.

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4. Making out session

Chris and Y/N were lying together in their bed, wrapped in a soft blanket as they watched an old romantic comedy movie on the television. The soft light from the screen illuminated their faces as they snuggled together, enjoying the tranquility and intimacy of the moment.

As the movie progressed, Chris felt his heart beating faster as his closeness to Y/N seemed to be more palpable. No matter how many years they had been together, Chris always felt like it was still the beginning of the relationship, or, as they say, the honeymoon phase.

His blue eyes found her side profile, admiring the softness of her features and the sparkle in her eyes as she was absorbed in the story of the couple in front of them.

Without thinking, the boy moved his hand, reaching for hers and intertwining their fingers. Y/N smiled softly at the gesture, lightly squeezing his hand, conveying comfort and affection without saying a word.

The girl turned her face towards him, feeling his eyes burning into her for long minutes, ready to question him if he was still interested in the story, but her words caught in her throat when she saw the intensity of his gaze.

She knew that look.

Their eyes remained connected for long seconds, the sound of the television becoming muffled to their ears. With one smooth movement, Chris slid his free hand up to Y/N's face, caressing her warm cheek with his fingers in an almost ghost touch. He felt the softness of her skin under his, losing himself in the comforting sensation.

Y/N sighed softly, closing her eyes and pending her head against his hand, enjoying the gentle affection. In one quick movement, Chris got closer to her face, leaning towards her. Their noses met lightly, the boy caressing the area lightly in an eskimo kiss before adjusting his position, their lips finally meeting in a slow and gentle kiss, filled with tenderness and desire.

They explored each other gently, their kiss slowly gaining a rhythms as they gave in to the intimacy of the moment. There was no rush, just the sweet feeling of being together.

Chris's warm tongue caressed her lower lip in a silent request for entrance, which was quickly granted, their tongues intertwining in a wet and skillful kiss.

The boy raised his free hand to the back of Y/N's head, his thumb pressing the tip of her jaw, caressing the hot and flushed skin tenderly, feeling drunk by the natural scent of her body as they surrendered to the heat of the moment. Their hearts beat in unison, a symphony of love and desperation.

In one swift movement, Y/N moved under the blanket that covered their legs, strategically climbing into his lap and sitting on his gray sweatpants covered thighs, her legs wrapping around his hips securely. She moved her hands to his shoulders, tilting her torso slightly and deepening the kiss with the new position.

External sounds disappeared for the two, only the sound of their rapid and choppy breaths echoing in their ears, creating a warm bubble around them.

Chris's hands traveled over Y/N's body in a slow and sensual way, finding home on her hips and tracing imaginary shapes with the tip of his fingers above the thin fabric of her panties, lightly squeezing the area, a low moan escaping the girl's throat.

When the air began to run out, they reluctantly separated, their eyes closed while their tongues still savored the fresh taste of each other that predominated their mouths. Y/N leaned her forehead against his, lightly pressing their noses together as she caught her breath.

When her eyes finally opened, her first sight was Chris's swollen-lipped smirk.

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5. Trying to match my boyfriend eating

Y/N's phone camera was already open, and the device rested on the nightstand on her side of the bed, propped up against the pink lamp so that the screen pointed towards her and, consequently, Chris, who would sit next to her.

The girl smiled at the front camera after clicking the red record button, settling back down on the mattress, waiting for Chris, who would return soon with the burgers they had ordered for delivery to eat while they watched a movie.

The sound of the door opening echoed through the room some minutes after, and the girl quickly lifted her gaze towards the source, smiling widely when she saw her boyfriend with the large paper bag in one of his hands.

She quickly took it from him, opening it in one quick movement and taking out the burgers, fries, and sodas, individually separating the ones that were hers and the ones that were his.

"Hungry, babe?" Chris asked with a smile in his voice, a nasal laugh following his sentence as he settled into bed next to her, retrieving his burger quickly.

"You have no idea." The girl murmured, taking advantage of the fact that Chris was unwrapping his lunch as if it were the most precious thing in the world to quickly look at her phone, winking at the camera, unwrapping her own burger.

Y/N wasted no time, noticing from the corner of her eyes her boyfriend already taking the first bite, quickly following him. She tried to bite off a piece in the same size as his, but her attempt was futile, only getting half of it, which was already too much for her.

Chris chewed the piece without any problems, leaning forward slightly and reaching for the remote control that was in the middle of the bed, quickly picking it up and clicking the play button, resuming the movie where they stopped before the food arrived, his mouth working on taking another bite without even looking at his burger.

Y/N's eyes widened, forcing herself to swallow what was still in her mouth so she could take more, this time a little bigger than the last. She found it difficult to chew as quickly as Chris did, closing her eyes tightly as she tried, futilely, to concentrate on swallowing as quickly as possible.

A cough escaped her throat, muffled by her closed lips, but catching the boy's attention, who looked up at her with his brow furrowed in confusion.

His blue eyes widened comically at the sight of her cheeks inflated because of the food and trying to chew, a loud laugh escaping his lips.

"Babe, what the fuck are you doing? Slow down." The brunette adverted, wrapping his burger again and leaving it on the bed - away from his legs so as not to run the risk of crushing it.

He leaned toward her, patting her back lightly with his right hand while his left reached for her Diet Coke, touching the end of the straw to her closed lips.

Chris watched her carefully and with worried eyes, waiting for her to swallow the food, finally taking a few slow sips of the sweet drink.

"I'm sorry." Y/N whispered, a small smile decorating her face along with her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "It was supposed to be a TikTok, but you eat too quickly."

The boy shook his head in confusion, running his eyes around the room and quickly finding his girl's phone recording them.

"Your food will run away or something?"

"Shut up."

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