#and most of the party is So Fucking Stupid

[pha55ed]

I'll Be Home || F1/F2

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: you introduce him to your family, he's terrified by he still pulls through

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

When you told Carlos to come to your family's party, he instantly accepted with glee. Except, right after he began to panic and process the preparation needed to go into this. It was sweet to see his smile drop so quickly, meaning he put his thinking mode on.

Despite Carlos being loved by so many, he's still so nervous. You both sit in the car for almost 5 minutes just chatting to help calm him down. He's fidgeting with his hands, pushing his hair back and forth to perfect it, and he's doing his best to remember the ice-breakers he learned online.

"I promise, they'll love you no matter what." You say, grabbing his hands to stop his constant fidgeting. "You're going to do great!"

You knew he was going to try and "but" you so you quickly jumped outside the car. Which made his jaw drop, since he swore to forever open every door for you, no matter what. Instantly, he runs outside of the car and before you can even step 2 feet away from the car, he gently pushes you back into the car and shut the door.

He's saying something outside of the door, definitely complaining about losing his streak. By the time he opens the door for you, gently reaching for your hand to bring you inside, you can see most of your family outside ready to greet you.

Carlos is embarrassed, terrified that he just seemed like a controlling monster. But you knew your family, and you knew they would have adored his commitment to treating you like a princess. And you were right, they greeted him with welcome arms and loved his gesture.

Charles Leclerc | 16

He was well prepared for this day. It was like he was training to be in the military. The day you invited him to your family dinner, he's been grinding day and night to create the most perfect answers and conversation starters. He had his outfit ready and steamed, shoes cleaned, and even did an intense night routine to prepare.

So when he comes to your family's house, he's well prepared. You can't help but try to hold your laugh back at how serious he's taking this all. All your effort to hold back the laugh instantly comes out the second Charles begin to speak to them, because his chill-rich-nonchalant act came apart so quickly.

Your family brings up anything and instantly Charles is unable to hold back a fun fact he knows. Even something as random as a bananas then turned into: "Did you know if you add them to smoothies, it actually ruins the vitamins of the other fruits? I also dressed up as one on stream haha! Look!"

He's also unable to hold the touch guy persona with the kids. They instantly melt him, making stupid jokes with them. He's severely behind on trends though... Mentioning whips and nae-naes, the troll face, and G-mod. But that's fine, it makes the kids giggle at his old knowledge.

He's even acting like a fool with the dog. Trying to get the dogs to sit, roll over, and failing miserably. It makes everyone laugh and chuckle at him. But it's not at his expense, but instead at the pure energy he has to become part of this family. Which makes him instantly accepted by everyone in your family, including the dogs.

Lando Norris | 04

Before his fuck-boy reputation, there was rookie-Lando. The sweet boy who didn't grow pubes yet,,, somehow... And although you met Lando in his new era, filled with confidence and sass, you saw the real him behind his persona.

His palms were sweating, his voice was slightly higher, and his smile was flashing every second out of nerves. Anyone could tell he was nervous, he looked like a high schooler about to give a presentation. You two sat in the car, about to leave but he gently asked you:

"Can we stay in here for a minute?" He asks, turning to you as he fixes his sweater.

You were confused slightly. It was normal when you asked to stay in the car for a minute to redo your lip combo, since he usually ate it off of you. But Lando doesn't have a lip combo, or any makeup at all.

"I'm just," He could tell you were puzzled, "Nervous.. I wanna just talk to you, get the nerves out."

You smile at his words, he looked so cute being so nervous to meet your family of weirdos. "Lando, you'll do great! I know for a fact that they're going to love-"

"No no. I don't need reassurance or anything, thank you though love." He cuts you off. "I just, jus' want to talk to you. You calm me down."

"Talk about what?" You ask.

"Anything." He shrugs. "You just, calm me down." He says, making you smile from his simple yet impactful words. "You're like a walking vape."

"Oh shut up!" You smack him playfully, "You ruined a good moment!" Chuckling at his comment. But your chuckle brought a smile to his face, but this time it was a genuine smile.

Not out of nervousness or fear, but a real smile. Your laugh was able to brighten him up within a split second. And that's all he needed. Because truthfully, he didn't care too much of what your family thought of him. Of course he wanted them to like him, but he's able to accept other's opinions. All he really cared for was that you loved him, and he knew you did.

Oscar Piastri | 81

"Should I wear my midnight blue tie or navy blue tie?" Oscar asks, holding both up for you to look at. He was sweating bullets at the idea of meeting your entire family for the first time. Even though you reassured him endlessly that your family would love him, he wasn't certain on it.

"Either works, love" You say, trying your best to multi-task answering his stupid questions while getting ready yourself. You knew he wasn't trying to be annoying. It was cute to you that he was so nervous, despite him being on the verge of a breakdown.

"Okay what about white or black socks?" You told him white. "What length though? Above or below the ankle???" You told him above. "Okay, but should I pick the ones with a logo or no logo-"

"Oscar." You said firmly. He gulped, he knew he should have picked the no logo socks, what a stupid question! But that wasn't what you were going to say. "I promise you'll be perfectly fine. They don't care what you wear, how you sound, or even what you like."

"I know, I know, but I don't want to disappoint them." He says before remembering, "Oh shit! We need to leave soon! I need to pick up the bouquets I ordered for your family on the way there-"

You couldn't help but laugh at him. Every question he asked was just further proof that would be perfectly fine meeting them all. You had no doubts that your family would adore him: which they did.

Oliver Bearman | 87

The second Ollie stepped foot into your family's party, he was bombarded with questions. Bringing a tall, handsome, and talented young man into your family automatically made him lovable. They almost forgot about the fact that the only reason he was there was because of you.

He can't escape the grandmas and aunties fawning over how cute he is and all the uncles can't stop bothering him with questions about cars. Even your little cousins love him, asking him annoying questions that he handled really well.

Before you know it, he's carrying your baby cousin in one arm, holding a paper plate filled to the brim with food, wearing your uncle's hat that he insisted suited Ollie more, and being forced to tell everyone his facebook so they can stalk him.

The night lasted hours, but thankfully all your family got drunk or sleepy. Meaning you two were able to escape from the party. The second you're in the car, he sighs. It confused you, was he tired? Relieved to leave? Sad???

"Do you think they liked me?" He asks you. Which you instantly want to slam his head into the window.

"Yes Ollie, they liked you." You say with a smile, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "They loved you."

Paul Aron | 17

You've met Paul's family many times due to them being extremely present in his life. His sister always makes sure to check on him, taking you out for little gossip coffee dates. His brother is constantly calling Paul, making sure to tease him endlessly. And his parents are always there to encourage you two and take you on their family vacations.

So now that it's Paul's turn to be part of your family, he feels so nervous. He's ruffling up his hair for the 100th time, mumbling the lines he practiced to say. It's just a small get together for the holiday season, but Paul insisted that he should still be dressed nicely.

Once you arrive, you're on time... By 10 minutes. Despite you insisting that no one ever comes early to a family party, he doesn't care. He'd much rather be early and help set up than be late and risk ruining his first impression. Besides, if there's less people, then he can make sure he talks to every single family member.

And his plan worked really well. He's helping set up the plates and utensils while chatting with your aunt about how he loves her decor. Making her feel appreciated, finally someone saw the effort she put into picking the perfect width of a fork handle!

He helps your uncle prepare the back yard by opening all the lounge chairs. Which lets him make small talk with him, where they both find out that they love Star Wars. Now your uncle loves him because he can finally talk to someone who's as passionate as him.

Paul keeps doing this with every family member that arrives, being able to talk to them each one on one in order to create a bond. Because in group settings, Paul tends to get a tad bit nervous. He doesn't know when to jump in or what to say instantly.

By doing this, you both return home with every single family member loving him. And each of them remembering him from the little facts he shared with them. He was so respectful, engaged, and sweet the entire day. You couldn't help but just want to shower him in kisses for putting in so much effort and energy into your family.

Pepe Marti | 21

"Tall and tan and young and lovely," are lyrics dedicated to a girl but they perfectly fit Pepe. Because he instantly charms the entire family with his sweet smile and handsome looks. You're worried that he might get stolen from you by the end of the night.

He's just a future uncle in training. Making all the aunts laugh with quick jokes and then heading outside to sip on a beer while helping light a fire. He's even forced to help clean the grill and get a new gas tank to light it up.

You feel so much more mature now, no longer feeling part of the cousin crew but instead a future auntie in the making. He makes you feel so domestic, so warm and nurtured that the only thing you want to do is share the love of being cared for.

And you can't help but just fall for him deeper. And the same goes for him.

Despite being assigned random tasks to complete, he always makes sure to check up on you. Giving you a quick peck on the cheek as he walks back and forth from the kitchen to the yard. Making sure to shut down any rude comments from your aunts by turning it into a joke. Squeezing your hand three times under the dinner table to remind you that he loves you.

He couldn't have been more perfect.

[quarterlifekitty]

Hi! could you possibly write something about a fuckboy!soap and shy!reader that he uses for sex, and she keeps letting him? im craving angsty angst ANGST that just keeps hurting…you don’t have to if you don’t want to and thank you if you do! Have a great day!

Okay, one thing you all should know about me? Is that I’m a weenie lol so I can’t help but make things a little hopeful most of the time. Also— gonna make this like a college type AU

Soap clocks you from a mile away when he sees you at a party. There’s a cup of beer in your hand that you’ve been nursing, just sipping to have something to do while you cling to the side of the friend who forced you to come.

He’s seen you in his classes before. You’re good. Not the type to be seen in a place like this. And that kinda whets his appetite. He wants to fuck you, break you, make you fall apart for his own amusement.

He nudges Gaz— they have the routine down to a science— splitting up the birdies that are a little too huddled together so they can have their way with them. Gaz runs interference this time, Johnny mouthing an “I owe ye” his way— chatting up and pulling your friend away to talk a bit more. You’re alone now, and Johnny swoops in, weaving through people on a warpath.

He corners you expertly, and you’re a pathetically easy read. Easy to tease, to coax, to push. He just has to throw in a few lines about how pretty you look, peppered between him saying he’s always wanted to talk with you, always admired you in class— he gives just enough detail to lull you into thinking this is courting. That he’s going to fuck you because he likes you.

Works like a charm. Always does. You clumsily follow him to his room—“Ye didnae ken? This is my fraternity’s house, bonnie,”— as he pulls you along by the hand.

He enjoys pulling you apart. Like the birds taking Prometheus’s liver. He’s not a complete animal, he makes you cum, but he doesn’t give you kisses the way you’d probably hoped he would. He’ll tell his mates later— it was kinda cute how fucking bad you were at giving head, too.

He lets you stay the night even though your clinging is a bit annoying. Pushing you out would burn this bridge, and he’s not ready to do that just yet. Not when he could keep having fun.

Come morning your clothes are tossed your way (sans panties, those are going in his trophy collection), and he has the decency to drop you off at your place with the promise of further contact.

Come your next class, he’s back to acting like he doesn’t know you. You’re shy, but you’re not stupid. It’s easy to see that you were played, and you curse yourself for falling into it.

So why do you show up when he texts you, asking you to come over?

Promethean indeed.

And it keeps happening.

It’s not like he treats you badly— that’s what you tell yourself. You’re just the idiot for expecting more than orgasms. It’s nice to feel wanted. It’s not nice to put your clothes on and get out right after, but you’re willing to ignore that. You shouldn’t be. But you are.

You’re not the kind of girl who gets asked out. So why refuse the one source of attention you have? He makes you cum, right? That’s more than a lot of guys do, so it would be unfair to expect more. High maintenance. Right?

If Johnny can see the hurt behind your eyes when you turn to check behind you when you leave, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and call you back into bed to hold you, he doesn’t do anything about it. He’s content to tug on his jeans and brush past you with a cigarette in his mouth.

You steel yourself as usual, double checking the straightness of your clothes as if it’ll make you feel like less of a cheap whore when his housemates glance your way as you leave.

The door across from Johnny’s is almost always open, despite how closed off its occupant seems. You’ve never met Simon. Well, you really haven’t met anyone in Soap’s life. That’s not what he keeps you for, is it? Fucktoys don’t get introduced to the friend group. Doesn’t stop Simon from staring holes in your back every time you leave. Must think you’re easy. Must wonder if Johnny’ll mind if he has a go. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pathetic. You certainly do.

But it’s happened one too many times. Apparently, even a worm will turn. His stare itches and crawls up your skin when you already feel like such a piece of meat— chewed up and spit out. And you must be losing flavor. Before long you won’t even have this. You turn to look at him instead of walking on as usual.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” You spit in a tone that surprises you. You’ve never said anything like that to someone, not in earnest, anyway.

“Lemme take y’out somewhere.”

What?

What?

[jupiterpilgrim]

Everything's Ruined

Christmas Special 🎄

Hanni x Male Reader

word count: 10K

The room glows with the warm, soft buzz of Christmas lights tangled messily over the mantle and around the windows. Music hums in the background—a lazy mix of holiday classics and some throwback pop songs someone thought was ironic. You’re sunk deep into the couch, a heavy glass of whiskey and eggnog dangling loose in your hand. It’s late, the party is only half over, but everyone is already wasted, even though they're just chilling now; a handful of half-drunk bodies lounging, half-assedly debating the virtues of Die Hard as a Christmas movie. 

Then there’s Hanni.

She’s curled up next to you, except "curled" isn’t right. She’s draped—like she forgot personal space was a thing about three drinks ago. Her dark hair tumbles over her face as she tips her head back in a laugh that’s way too loud for whatever dumb joke someone just made. Her cheeks are flushed, probably from the wine she’s been inhaling all night, and when she looks at you, her eyes are glassy and warm, like you’re the most hilarious person alive just for existing.

Thing is, Hanni’s your best friend—the one person you're not supposed to have these feelings for, but with the alcohol in your system and the way she’s leaning into you now, all flushed cheeks and that stupid, glassy smile, it’s getting real fucking hard to remember why.

“God, you’re so fuckin' cute,” she slurs, and you blink. She doesn’t seem to notice, just scoots closer, swinging her legs over your lap like she’s staking territory. “You’re my favorite, you know that?”

You snort. “You tell me that every time you’re wasted, Hanni. Get some new material.”

She pouts, sticking out her lip in this over-the-top cartoon way that somehow makes you grin like an idiot. Her weight settles heavier against you, and yeah, you’re feeling that whiskey warmth in your veins too. Her hand wanders—innocently enough at first—over your shoulder, across your chest, then down to rest right at the edge of dangerous territory.

“I’m serious this time, though!” She pokes your chest like she’s trying to prove a point. “You’re the only person who gets me, y’know? Like…fuck, dude, if you weren’t my best friend, I’d probably marry you.”

That pulls a laugh out of you, sharp and incredulous. “Wow, what an honor. Thanks for the consolation prize.” 

Hanni leans forward, her face inches from yours now, her breath sweet with wine and whatever sugary cocktail she’s been nursing all night. “I mean it, asshole. You’re like…everything.” Her voice drops, softer now, and she smirks, but it’s the kind of smirk that’s all affection and none of the usual bite. “You’re my fucking rock.”

You feel something twist low in your gut. “Shit, Hanni, who knew wine turned you into a Hallmark card?” you say, trying to keep it light. 

She bursts into giggles, doubling over, her face pressed to your chest. Her ass shifts on your lap, and you freeze for a second because—fuck—her skirt’s hiked up just enough for you to feel the heat of her through the thin fabric. Hanni doesn’t notice, or maybe she doesn’t care, because she’s too busy tracing lazy patterns over your stomach now, her touch just shy of intimate.

“Y’know what sucks?” she mumbles, tilting her head up to look at you, her hair sticking to her damp forehead. “You’re too good for me. Like, no joke, you should be with someone hot, not stuck babysitting my drunk ass.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to focus on the way her thighs are pressing into yours or the flash of bare skin where her sweater’s ridden up. “Who says I’m stuck? Maybe I like babysitting your drunk ass.”

Her face softens in this way that makes your chest feel too tight. She shifts again, pressing closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear when she whispers, “That’s why I love you.”

It’s teasing, almost playful, but there’s something heavier underneath, something that makes your pulse spike. You’re about to say something—maybe a joke, maybe something stupidly earnest—but then someone across the room yells out, “Alright, last call for shots!” 

Hanni perks up immediately, her attention snapping away from you. “Hell yeah! Let’s fucking go!” she yells, hopping up so fast you almost spill your drink.

As she stumbles off, you exhale, leaning back into the couch, trying to will away the heat simmering low in your stomach. It’s just Hanni, you remind yourself. She gets like this when she’s drunk—touchy, emotional, saying all kinds of shit she won’t even remember tomorrow. But fuck, if she isn’t beautiful, with her tiny frame and those absurdly thick thighs that make no goddamn sense on someone her size. 

You shake your head, draining the rest of your drink. 

—

What began as a quiet night spirals into that perfect mess of booze and laughter, the kind of chaos that only happens when no one’s watching the clock or counting drinks. Someone’s wearing a Santa hat and nothing else but a pair of boxers. Someone else decided the fake Christmas tree would make a great dance partner, and now half the ornaments are shattered on the floor. You and Hanni are still on the couch, her body leaning heavily against yours as you both wheeze-laugh at something dumb on the TV—a claymation Rudolph looking suspiciously baked out of his red-nosed mind.

At some point, Hanni grabs the half-empty bottle of wine from the coffee table and lifts it in a mock toast. “To you, bestie,” she slurs, words spilling out like syrup. “The only motherfucker who didn’t ditch me when I got kicked outta karaoke night last month.”

You roll your eyes, reaching to take the bottle from her before she spills it. “You got kicked out because you tried to sing ‘WAP’ like it was a gospel hymn, Hanni.”

“It was art, you heathen,” she shoots back, but her pout barely lasts before her face splits into a grin. “But seriously. You’re the real MVP.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you say, laughing as you set the bottle safely aside. “But thanks, I guess.”

Time keeps sliding, blurring at the edges. Someone takes an Uber home. Someone else starts snoring under the coffee table. By the time you look around again, the room’s mostly empty. It’s just you, Hanni, and the sound of some low-budget Christmas movie droning in the background. Hanni’s slumped sideways against you, her head resting on your shoulder. Her breath is soft, wine-sweet and warm, and when you shift slightly, she groans.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” she mumbles, voice thick with the haze of too much alcohol. Her hand tightens on your arm like a sleepy cat staking its claim.

“Nah, I’m good,” you say, but the sight of her like this—soft and unguarded—makes something in your chest clench. “You, on the other hand, can’t even sit up straight. You’re not going anywhere.”

She blinks up at you, her eyes unfocused but shining, like she’s trying to process your words. “So what? I just crash here?”

“No,” you say, patting her leg. “My place is closer, and I don’t trust you not to wander into traffic if I send you home.”

She snorts, the sound loud and ungraceful. “Aw, look at you, being all responsible and shit. You’re such a dad sometimes.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it. “C’mon, let’s get you sorted.”

You help her to her feet, and she wobbles, gripping your arm like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. After saying goodbye to your friends, somehow, you manage to guide her the short distance to your apartment, both of you giggling like idiots the whole way. By the time you’re inside, her sweater’s sliding off one shoulder, and her hair’s a mess, but she looks at you with this sleepy grin that makes your head swim worse than the booze.

You sit her down on the couch, and she flops back like she’s about to take a nap right then and there. “God, your couch is so comfy,” she murmurs, kicking off her shoes.

“It’s a couch, Hanni, not a five-star hotel,” you say, but you’re smiling anyway as you sit down next to her.

For a while, it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that comes when the party’s over, and the city outside is muted under the weight of night. Hanni shifts closer, curling her legs under her, her knee brushing yours. She looks at you, and there’s something in her gaze now—not just the drunken haze, but something deeper. Something you’ve been trying not to notice all night.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she says, her voice soft but steady. 

You frown. “What? That I’m cute?”

She nods, biting her lip like she’s bracing for impact. “Yeah. That. And the part about loving you.”

Your chest tightens, and you let out a short, breathless laugh, trying to break the tension. “Hanni, you’re drunk. You’re gonna forget this by tomorrow morning.”

“Fuck that,” she says, sitting up straighter now, her face inches from yours. “You think I don’t know how I feel? You’re my best friend, yeah, but also…you’re more. You’ve always been more.”

Her words hang there, heavy and undeniable. Your pulse thrums in your ears as she leans in, her lips brushing yours, tentative at first. Then it deepens, and all the air seems to vanish from the room. Her hands slide up your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair, and before you can think, you’re kissing her back, your hands gripping her waist like she’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

When you finally break apart, her lips are swollen, her breath hitching as she looks at you like you’ve just answered a question she’s been too afraid to ask.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whisper, but you’re already leaning in again, your lips finding hers as the tension between you snaps like a live wire. She climbs onto your lap, her thighs pressing against you, and you don’t even care that you’re both still drunk. The couch groans under your combined weight, but neither of you notice, too caught up in the heat of the moment.

“We should—bed—” you manage to mumble between kisses, and she nods, her lips trailing down your jaw.

Somehow, you make it to the bedroom, the clothes leaving a haphazard trail in the hallway and inside your room. By the time you hit the mattress, both already naked, it’s not just excitement buzzing through you—it’s the quiet, electric realization that this is happening, and there’s no turning back.

The bed creaks beneath you both, the springs protesting as Hanni sprawls out on her back, looking up at you with a mix of hazy confidence and nervous vulnerability. Her cheeks are flushed, hair a wild mess against your pillow, and she’s biting her lip so hard you’re half afraid she’ll draw blood. You hover over her, your hands on either side of her, just taking her in for a moment. This is Hanni—your best friend, your partner in crime—and right now, she looks like a fucking dream, her legs parted slightly, the curve of her hips begging for attention.

“You’re staring,” she says, voice low but teasing, and she reaches up, cupping your jaw with one hand. Her fingers are warm, soft, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “I know I’m hot, but damn.”

You laugh, short and breathless, shaking your head. “Fuck off, Hanni. You’re not gonna ruin this by talking shit.”

“Oh, I’m totally gonna talk shit,” she replies, her grin sharp but faltering slightly when you dip your head, pressing your lips to hers again. The kiss is slower this time, deeper, and when you nip at her bottom lip, she gasps into your mouth, her hips shifting beneath you.

Your hand finds her side. Her skin’s soft and warm, and when your palm grazes the swell of her breast, she lets out this soft, needy sound that goes straight to your cock

“God, you’re so fucking impatient,” you murmur against her lips, but your tone’s more affectionate than mocking. Your hand slides down, over her tummy, then you pause, your fingers resting just above where you know she’s burning for you.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her eyes lock on yours, and for a moment, you think she’s gonna back out, but then she smirks. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

“Well, now I have to,” you say, rubbing your fingers on her mon pubis.

“Asshole,” she breathes, but her words catch in her throat when your fingers find her slick folds. She’s soaked, and the realization sends a rush of heat through you. “Oh, fuck—”

“Shit, Hanni,” you say, your voice rough with a mix of awe and lust. “You’re fucking dripping.”

Her laugh is shaky, more like a breathy moan. “Yeah, well…you’re taking your sweet ass time about it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you reply, but your fingers are already sliding lower, brushing over her clit. The reaction is immediate—her body jerks, her hips pressing up into your hand as a strangled moan escapes her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her words tumbling out as your fingers circle her clit, slow and deliberate. “Just like that—oh, god, yeah, like th—oh fuck!”

Her voice cuts off as you slide one finger into her, her walls clenching around you like a vice. You add another finger, curling them slightly, and the noise she makes is obscene—half a gasp, half a moan, her head tipping back against the pillow.

“You’re so fucking tight,” you say, your voice low and rough. “How the fuck are you this tight?”

“Shut up,” she groans, but there’s no real bite to her words. Her hands grip the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her grounded as you start moving, your fingers pumping into her at a steady rhythm.

Her hips roll against your hand, desperate and needy, and when your thumb brushes her clit again, she practically cries out. “Oh my god—yes—just like that—fuck!”

“Yeah?” you ask, grinning as you lean down, your lips grazing her ear. “You like that, Hanni? You like the way I’m fucking you with my fingers?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body arches off the bed. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking dare—”

Her words dissolve into moans as you pick up the pace, your fingers fucking her harder, faster. You can feel her tightening around you, her breath hitching, her entire body trembling as she teeters on the edge.

“Come on, Hanni,” you murmur, your lips brushing her temple. “Let go for me. I wanna feel you cum all over my fingers.”

Her response is incoherent—a garbled mix of your name and curses—but then she’s coming apart, her back arching, her thighs trembling as her pussy clenches around your fingers. Her moan is long and guttural, her hands flying to your shoulders as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.

“Fuck—fuck, oh my god—” she pants, her chest heaving as she comes down, her body still shivering under your touch. You don’t stop, not yet, your fingers slowing but staying inside her, coaxing out every last aftershock.

When you finally pull your hand away, her eyes flutter open, and she looks at you with a dazed, fucked-out expression that makes your chest tighten.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, her voice shaky. “That was…”

You smirk, leaning down to kiss her, your lips brushing hers lightly. “We’re not done yet.”

Before she can respond, you slide down the bed, positioning yourself between her legs. You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, your hands spreading her open, and she gasps, her hands flying to your hair as your tongue flicks over her sensitive clit, licking through the mess she’s left behind—sweet, sticky, and fucking intoxicating. Hanni’s trembling beneath you, her thighs twitching every time your tongue grazes her clit. Her fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging just hard enough to sting, and you can’t tell if she’s trying to push you away or keep you there forever.

“Jesus fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” she gasps, her voice breathy and half-wrecked, like she’s been screaming at a concert all night. “I’m—oh god—s-sensitive—”

You pull back slightly, grinning against her skin. “Yeah? Sensitive, huh? You’re the one who keeps pulling me closer.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, but her words falter when you press your tongue flat against her, slow and wet, dragging it from her entrance to her clit. Her body jolts, a sharp inhale cutting her off. “Oh fuck—stop talking and just—”

“What? Just this?” you interrupt, sucking her clit into your mouth, your fingers digging into her thighs to keep her in place when she tries to squirm away. Her reaction is immediate—her back arches off the mattress, her head tossing back against the pillow.

“FUCK—yes, like that—oh my god, just like that—” she chokes out, her voice rising and falling with every flick of your tongue.

You pull back just enough to murmur, “You taste so fucking good, Hanni. I could eat you all night.”

She groans, throwing an arm over her face, her voice a mix of exasperation and raw need. “You’re such a goddamn showoff.”

“And you love it,” you reply, sliding your tongue back inside her, savoring the way she clenches around it. The cream left behind from her last orgasm coats your lips, and you lap at it like a man starving, dragging out every broken moan she gives you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she stammers, her hands gripping your hair like a lifeline. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna—”

You pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning up at her. “Gonna what? Cum again? Already?”

Her glare is half-hearted, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re dripping,” you shoot back, crawling up her body until your face is hovering over hers. You kiss her, slow and dirty, letting her taste herself on your lips. When you pull back, her eyes flicker down between your bodies, and her breath hitches.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, and you follow her gaze to where your cock is pressed against her stomach, hard and heavy. “That’s…uh…”

“What?” you ask, smirking. “Bigger than you expected?”

She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing as her eyes dart back to your face. “I mean—yeah, kinda.”

You laugh, the sound low and rough as you reach down, guiding her onto her hands and knees. “Don’t worry. You’ll take it.”

She lets out a nervous laugh, glancing over her shoulder at you as you position yourself behind her. “Confident much?”

“You’ll see,” you say, running the head of your cock along her folds, teasing her just enough to make her hips jerk back toward you. “Fuck, Hanni, you’re so wet. You’re gonna take me so good.”

Her response is a shaky moan, her hands gripping the sheets as you push inside her, slow and steady. The stretch is immediate, her body tightening around you like a vice, and you grit your teeth, fighting to keep control.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice high and breathless. “Oh fuck—you’re—fuck, you’re huge—”

“Yeah?” you say, gripping her hips as you sink deeper, inch by inch. “You like it, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes—don’t stop—” she groans, her head dropping forward as you bottom out, your hips flush against her ass. You stay still for a moment, letting her adjust, your hands smoothing over her waist, her back, the curve of her ass.

“You look so fucking good like this,” you murmur, giving her ass a firm squeeze. “All spread out for me.”

She lets out a soft laugh, glancing back at you with a dazed smirk. “You’re so full of yourself.”

You don’t bother replying, instead pulling back and snapping your hips forward, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Her gasp turns into a cry, her body rocking forward with the force of your thrust.

“Fuck—yes, just like that—” she moans, her voice muffled as her face presses into the pillow. You pick up the pace, your grip on her hips tightening as you fuck her harder, each thrust sending shockwaves through both of you.

You raise one hand, bringing it down on her ass with a sharp slap. The sound echoes in the room, and she cries out, her walls tightening around you. “Shit—you like that?” you ask, spanking her again, harder this time.

“Fuck—yes—do it again—” she pants, her voice ragged. You oblige, your hand coming down on her ass until it’s red and warm under your palm. She’s a mess beneath you, moaning and writhing, her body arching every time you spank her.

Your grip tightens on Hanni’s hips as you feel her starting to unravel. Her moans spill out in frantic, breathy bursts, her voice trembling under the pressure of everything building inside her. She’s trying to keep her balance, her arms shaking as she holds herself up, but you’re not making it easy. Every thrust has her lurching forward, her ass bouncing back to meet you, her body completely giving in to the rhythm you’ve set.

“Shit—fuck—oh my god, I’m so close,” she stammers, her voice climbing higher, more desperate with every word. Her hands claw at the sheets, bunching the fabric into her fists as you slam into her again, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

“Come on, Hanni,” you growl, your breath hot against the sweat-slicked curve of her back. Your hand dips between her legs, fingers finding her clit and circling it in sync with your thrusts. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you?”

“Yes—oh god, yes,” she cries out, her voice cracking as her hips buck against your hand. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

You don’t. You keep your pace steady, unrelenting, the wet sounds of her slick pussy growing louder, more obscene, until finally, she snaps. Her whole body locks up, her head tossing back as a scream tears out of her throat, raw and broken. 

“Oh fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her thighs trembling violently as her orgasm rips through her, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure. Her walls clench around you like a vice, trying to pull you deeper, but you hold still, grinding into her just enough to prolong her high. Her moans turn into whimpers, then gasps, her body sagging forward as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she finally collapses, her chest heaving against the mattress, you can’t help but grin. “Oh Hanni,” you murmur, sliding out of her slowly, your cock still hard and aching, slick with her arousal. “You looked so fucking good just now.”

She turns her head, her hair sticking to her flushed, sweaty face as she glares at you halfheartedly. “Shut up,” she mutters, but her voice is shaky, her body still twitching with the remnants of her orgasm.

“Nah, I mean it,” you say, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin. “You’re fucking perfect like this.”

Her response is a muffled groan into the pillow, and you laugh, flipping her onto her back before she can complain. Her legs fall open instinctively, and the sight of her laid out beneath you—skin flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly—makes your cock twitch.

“I’m not done with you yet,” you murmur, positioning yourself between her legs. Your hands slide up her thighs, pushing them further apart as you line yourself up with her entrance. She looks up at you, her lips parted, her eyes hazy but full of something that goes deeper than just lust.

“God, you’re so fucking cheesy,” she whispers, but there’s no bite to her words. If anything, she looks…soft. Open. Like she’s waiting for something only you can give her.

You push into her slowly, watching her face as you fill her inch by inch. Her lips fall open, a soft gasp escaping her as her body stretches to accommodate you. “Oh fuck,” she breathes, her hands coming up to clutch at your shoulders. “Oh my god, you’re—fuck, you’re so deep—”

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice rough as you bottom out, your hips flush against hers. “Feel good?”

“Fuck yes,” she moans, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you closer. “God, you feel so fucking good—”

You start moving, your thrusts slow and deliberate, dragging your cock out almost all the way before slamming back into her. Her head tips back, her nails digging into your shoulders as she moans unabashedly, her voice filling the room. “Yes—fuck, just like that—”

You lean down, bracing yourself on your forearms so you’re hovering over her. Your lips find hers, swallowing her cries as you pick up the pace, your hips snapping against hers harder, faster. She breaks the kiss first, gasping for air, her hands sliding into your hair to tug you closer.

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding. Her eyes meet yours, wide and shining, and the vulnerability in her expression makes your cock throbs. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

You freeze for a second, but the way she’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth—it's enough to drive you crazy. “Hanni,” you murmur, your voice breaking as you start moving again, slower this time, each thrust deep and deliberate. “Fuck, I love you too.”

Her breath hitches, and she pulls you down into another kiss, her legs tightening around you as if she’s trying to fuse your bodies together. “Don’t stop,” she whispers against your lips. “Don’t ever stop.”

"I won't," you groan, your cock throbbing inside her tight, wet pussy as you grind deep. Her walls flutter around you with each slow, deliberate thrust, and you can feel how close she is to cumming. You press your forehead against hers, maintaining eye contact as you fuck her with long, measured strokes.

"You feel so good wrapped around my cock," you tell her, your voice rough with emotion. "So fucking perfect, Hanni. Love how wet you get for me."

She whimpers, her nails digging into your shoulders as her hips buck up to meet yours. "Only for you," she gasps. "Nobody's ever made me this wet before."

The admission makes your cock twitch, and you reward her with a particularly deep thrust that has her crying out. "Yeah? Tell me more, baby. Tell me how good I make you feel."

"So good," she moans, her pussy clenching around you. "Your cock fills me up perfectly. Feels like you were made for me."

You kiss her hard, swallowing her moans as you pick up the pace slightly. Your tongue slides against hers as you fuck her deeper, harder, but still maintaining that intimate connection. Her tits press against your chest with each thrust, her hard nipples dragging against your skin.

"Love these perfect tits," you growl, breaking the kiss to trail your lips down her neck. You suck hard enough to leave marks, wanting everyone to know she's yours. "I love how they bounce while I fuck you, how they get so hard for me."

Hanni arches her back, pressing her chest more firmly against you. "Please," she whimpers. "Touch them, suck on them, anything!"

You shift your weight to one arm so you can cup one of her tits, rolling the nipple between your fingers as you continue to thrust. "Like this, baby? Like having your tits played with while I fuck your tight little pussy?"

"Yes!" she cries out, her walls clamping down around you. "Fuck, I'm getting close!"

"That's it," you encourage her, lowering your head to take her other nipple into your mouth. You suck hard while still pinching and rolling the other one, your cock never stopping its steady rhythm inside her. "Want to feel you cum all over my cock. Want to feel how tight that pussy gets when you lose control."

Her hands slide into your hair, holding you against her breast as you continue to suck and nibble at her sensitive flesh. "Oh god, oh fuck," she pants, her thighs trembling where they're wrapped around your waist. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

You release her nipple with a wet pop, looking up to meet her eyes again. "Never stopping, baby. Gonna keep fucking this sweet pussy until you can't take it anymore." You punctuate your words with a particularly deep thrust that has her seeing stars.

"Love watching you fall apart on my cock," you continue, your voice rough with desire. "Love feeling your pussy get wetter and tighter with each thrust. You gonna cum for me, Hanni? Gonna show me how good I make you feel?"

She nods frantically, her eyes glazed with pleasure as she stares up at you. "So close," she whimpers. "Just a little more, please!"

You shift slightly, changing the angle of your thrusts so your cock drags against her g-spot with each stroke. At the same time, you slide your hand between your bodies to find her clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud.

"Fuck!" she screams, her back arching off the bed. "Right there, right fucking there!"

"Yeah? This what you need, baby?" You keep the pressure steady on her clit as you continue to pound into her g-spot. "Love how your pussy's gripping me right now. Can feel how close you are to cumming."

Her nails rake down your back as she writhes beneath you, chasing her orgasm. "Please," she begs. "Make me cum again, please make me cum!"

You lean down to whisper in her ear, your voice low and rough. "Cum for me, Hanni. Show me how good my cock makes you feel. Want to feel that tight little pussy squeeze me while you cream all over my dick."

That does it. With a sharp cry of your name, Hanni's orgasm crashes over her. Her pussy clamps down around you like a vice as she cums, her whole body shaking with the force of her release. You can feel her cream gushing around your cock, making everything even wetter and slicker as you continue to fuck her through it.

"That's it, baby," you groan, fighting against your own need to cum as her walls milk your cock. "Fuck, you look so beautiful when you cum. Love watching you lose control like this."

She's babbling incoherently now, a stream of "fuck" and "yes" and your name falling from her lips as her orgasm continues to roll through her. Her pussy is practically convulsing around your cock, making it incredibly difficult to hold back your own release.

But you manage, wanting to draw out her pleasure as long as possible. You stay buried inside her for what feels like forever, your bodies pressed together, sweat mingling, her legs still wrapped tightly around your waist. Hanni’s breathing slows gradually, her chest rising and falling against yours as her trembling subsides. You brush her hair out of her face, tucking the damp strands behind her ear, and she gives you this sleepy, satisfied grin that makes your chest ache.

“You’re gonna ruin me, baby,” she mutters, her voice soft and teasing, her fingers trailing lazily over your back. 

You chuckle, nipping at her jawline. “Pretty sure I already did that.”

“Shut up,” she murmurs, but there’s no heat to it. She shifts slightly, wincing when your cock twitches inside her, still rock hard. “Jesus, are you still ready to go?”

“Can’t help it,” you reply, smirking as you grind against her, making her gasp. “You’re fucking addictive, Hanni.”

She groans, covering her face with one hand, but when she peeks up at you through her fingers, her eyes are gleaming. “Okay, fine. My turn.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Your turn for what?”

“To make you cum, dumbass.” She pushes at your chest until you roll onto your back, letting her straddle you. Her thighs press against your hips as she sits back, your cock still buried deep inside her. She bites her lip, her hands sliding over your chest. “God, you’re fucking huge. I can feel you all the way in my stomach.”

“Yeah?” you say, your voice rough, your hands finding her waist. “You’re taking me so fucking well, Hanni. You're absolutely perfect.”

“Damn right I am,” she says, smirking as she starts to move, slow and deliberate, rocking her hips in a way that makes your breath catch. “Fuck, you’re so deep…”

She sets a rhythm, her hands braced on your chest, her body rolling against yours with a lazy, drunk confidence. The sight of her above you—hair a mess, lips swollen, her tits bouncing with every move—has you gripping her hips like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Shit, Hanni,” you groan, your head tipping back against the pillow. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

Her laugh is breathy, almost mocking. “Good,” she says, picking up the pace, her thighs slapping against yours with every bounce. “You deserve it.”

Her movements get sloppier, needier, her breath hitching every time your cock hits that spot inside her. And then, out of nowhere, she starts talking—dirty, raw, and absolutely unhinged.

“God, I can feel you so fucking deep,” she moans. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that? You’re gonna fuck me so full I won’t even be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” you hiss, her words going straight to your cock, making you buck up into her. “Keep talking, baby. Fucking say it.”

With your request, Hanni rides you with a desperation that feels almost animalistic, her hips slamming down onto yours like she’s trying to bury you even deeper inside her. Every bounce makes her tits jiggle, her nails scraping against your chest, leaving angry red trails that sting just enough to keep you tethered to reality. But just barely. You’re so drunk, so fucking drunk, that every sensation feels magnified, her heat, her tightness, the wet sounds of her cunt taking you over and over—it’s all you can focus on.

“Fuck—oh fuck—you’re so fucking deep,” she continues, her voice raw and slurred, her head tipping back as she grinds against you, her clit brushing against the base of your cock. “I really can feel you in my fucking stomach—god, you’re ruining me—”

You groan, your hands glued to her waist, guiding her movements as she slams down onto you again and again. “You’re so fucking tight, Hanni. I can barely move—you’re gripping me so fucking hard.”

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, and when she leans forward, her lips grazing your ear, her voice drops to a sultry whisper that shoots straight through you like lightning. “You’re gonna cum inside me, aren’t you?” 

Your breath catches, your hands tightening on her hips. “What?”

“You’re gonna fucking fill me up,” she says, her teeth nipping at your earlobe. “I can feel you, baby—you’re so fucking close. I want it. God, I need it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hanni—” Your head falls back against the pillow, your grip on her hips almost bruising now as she speeds up, her thighs slapping against yours with every bounce. You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a reply, because all you can hear, all you can feel, is her.

“I want you to breed me,” she breathes, her words spilling out like she doesn’t even care how insane they sound. “I want you to fill me so fucking full I can feel you leaking out of me for days.”

You choke on a groan, your hips bucking up into her so hard it makes her gasp, her nails dragging down your chest. “Fuck, Hanni—you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

“And it's all your fault,” she shoots back, her voice dripping with lust as she smirks down at you. “You know you drive me crazy and still insist on teasing me. Tell me the truth: you’ve been dying to cum inside me all night, haven’t you?”

“Shit—” Your voice cracks as she grinds her hips in slow, teasing circles, her walls fluttering around you like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “You’re fucking insane.”

She leans down, her hands braced on either side of your head, her breath hot against your face. “Maybe,” she whispers, her voice trembling but full of wicked intent. “But you’re gonna give me what I want, aren’t you?”

Her lips crash against yours before you can answer, swallowing your groan as she slams down onto you again, her movements frantic and unrelenting. The angle shifts just enough to make your cock hit that perfect spot inside her, and she breaks the kiss with a scream, her body convulsing as she clings to you.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck yes—just like that,” she babbles, her words spilling out in a breathless rush. “You’re so deep, so fucking deep—I want it, baby, I want you to cum inside me. Please—fuck—please, I need it.”

Her pleading sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel your control unraveling, your body tensing as the pressure builds, white-hot and unbearable. “Shit, Hanni—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m so close—”

"Yes, yes, fucking breed me!" she begs, voice breaking as she slams herself down harder. "Fill this tight pussy up with your hot fucking cum. I need you to knock me up so bad. Pump that thick cum deep in my womb!"

Her dirty talk drives you wild. Your hands grip her waist, helping lift and drop her onto your throbbing shaft. Her pussy is absolutely drenched, making obscene wet sounds each time she takes you to the hilt. The way her walls grip and massage your cock has your eyes rolling back.

"Gonna cum," you grunt, feeling your balls tighten. "Gonna flood that tight pussy."

"Do it! Fucking do it!" She starts grinding and circling her hips, stimulating every sensitive spot. "Give me every last drop. Want your cum dripping out of me for days!"

Your orgasm hits like a tsunami. Your cock pulses violently as you start shooting thick ropes of hot cum deep inside her. But she doesn't stop - if anything she fucks you harder, determined to milk out every single drop.

"Oh fuuuuck!" you moan as she keeps bouncing through your orgasm. The stimulation is almost too much on your sensitive cock but she won't let up. Her pussy walls contract rhythmically, literally sucking the cum out of you.

"I can feel it," she pants, eyes glazed with lust. "So much hot cum filling me up. Keep cumming for me, baby. Give me more!"

The continued stimulation has you seeing stars. Your cock is so sensitive it almost hurts but the pleasure is mind-blowing. She grinds down hard, working her hips in circles as she milks out another surge of cum.

"Such a good boy," she purrs. "Giving me all that potent cum. Gonna put a baby in me with all this hot fucking seed."

Your whole body trembles as she continues riding. More cum spurts out with each bounce, making wet squelching sounds as it mixes with her juices. She's absolutely relentless, using your cock like her personal cum extraction tool.

"Please," you gasp, overwhelmed by the intense stimulation. "Fuck, Hanni!"

"Just a little more," she moans, her movements getting erratic. "Want every last drop inside me. Need all your cum breeding my tight little pussy!"

Your eyes roll back as another orgasm crashes through you, smaller but just as intense. She cries out in triumph as she feels the fresh surge of cum, her own orgasm making her pussy convulse around your oversensitive cock.

"Fuck yes! Breed me, breed me, breed meeee!" She collapses onto your chest, still grinding slowly. "So much cum... You give me so much cum, baby… can feel it so deep..."

Your cock gives a few final weak pulses, completely drained. She finally stills but keeps you trapped inside her, her pussy occasionally squeezing as if trying to coax out any remaining drops.

"Mmm, your cum is so hot, baby," she sighs contentedly. "Filled me up so perfectly. Gonna keep all this hot cum inside me until it takes."

You can only lie there panting as she nuzzles your neck, your thoroughly milked cock still twitching inside her cum-flooded pussy.

You wrap your arms around her, holding her close, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the city outside and the sound of your uneven breathing. Everything feels still, heavy, like the world just stopped to let you exist like this.

Then Hanni snorts.

It starts quiet, just a soft huff against your chest, but it builds quickly, bubbling up until she’s full-on giggling like a kid who just got caught doing something stupid. It’s contagious. You’re laughing too, your head tipping back into the pillow, your chest shaking beneath her.

“What the fuck are we even laughing at?” you wheeze, running a hand through her damp hair as her giggles turn into full-blown cackles.

“I don’t know!” she gasps, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. “I think—I think it’s just—holy shit, we actually did that.”

You grin, wiping at her face with the pad of your thumb. “Yeah, we fucking did. And now I can’t feel my legs, so thanks for that.”

“Don’t even,” she shoots back, propping her chin on your chest and glaring at you playfully. “You’re the one who fucked me so hard I saw stars.”

“Yeah? You’re welcome, then.” You wink at her, and she groans, burying her face in your chest again, her laughter muffled against your skin. 

When she finally calms down, she tilts her head up to look at you, her expression softening. “Hey,” she says quietly, her fingers brushing over your jawline. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, you know. I love you.”

Her words hit you like a sucker punch, but not in a bad way. It’s more like someone just flipped a switch inside you, lighting up every dark, unspoken corner of your heart. “Fuck,” you murmur. “I love you too, Hanni.”

She beams, her smile so wide and genuine it almost makes you forget how fucking trashed you both are. “That was—shit, that was the best sex of my life,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. “Like, no contest. Hall of Fame level.”

You snort. “Same. And that’s saying something, because I once hooked up with this girl who—”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence,” she interrupts, smacking your chest lightly. “Don’t ruin the moment!”

“Fine, fine,” you say, grinning as you squeeze her waist. “Moment un-ruined. But seriously, you were fucking amazing.”

She smirks, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. “Duh. I know that already.”

“God, you’re impossible,” you mutter, but your smile doesn’t falter. 

She yawns suddenly, the sound soft and innocent, and you raise an eyebrow. “You good? Wanna hop in the shower or something before we crash?”

Her nose wrinkles immediately, and she shakes her head. “Fuck that. I’m not moving an inch. We can sleep like this—sweaty, sticky, whatever. I don’t give a shit.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you pull her closer, tucking her against your side. “You’re such a goddamn gremlin.”

“Aaand-youuu-loveee-it,” she mumbles, already half-asleep, her voice muffled against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand running up and down her back. “I fucking do.”

Then, finally, the alcohol and exhaustion hit you both like a fucking truck, pulling you under faster than you expect. You drift off together, her body warm and soft against yours, her breath slow and steady in your ear. It’s messy and stupid and probably the worst decision you’ve ever made, but for now, it feels like the best thing in the world. You fall asleep like two reckless, drunk kids who don’t know any better, and for a little while, everything feels perfect. 

—

It's like the first morning in purgatory. 

You stir first, the throbbing in your skull dragging you out of unconsciousness. Your mouth is dry, your limbs heavy, and every movement feels like wading through molasses. You blink against the pale light leaking through the blinds, your vision blurry, the pounding in your head relentless. Beside you, Hanni lets out a soft groan, still half-buried in the covers, her hair a wild mess against the pillow.

“Fuck…” you croak, your voice rough as sandpaper. “What the hell happened?”

Hanni stirs, her face scrunching up in discomfort. “Why does my brain feel like it’s on fire?” she mutters, her words muffled against the pillow. She shifts slightly, the sheet slipping down to reveal bare shoulders. “Wait—”

She freezes.

Your eyes snap fully open, the fog in your head clearing just enough to process what you’re seeing. Hanni’s eyes go wide, darting between your face and the sheet draped haphazardly over your waist. “Why the fuck are we naked?” she asks, her voice pitching higher, panic seeping into her tone.

You wince, the sound drilling into your already aching skull. “I—uh—” You glance down, seeing your bare chest, then feel the cool air against your equally bare ass under the sheets. “Shit.”

Her hands fly to her own chest, clutching the blanket against herself as if that’ll undo whatever the fuck happened. “Did we…? Oh my god, did we fuck?” 

You sit up slowly, your head spinning. “I don’t know! I mean…” Your brow furrows as fragmented memories start piecing themselves together. Her riding you, her breathless moans, the way she begged—fuck, fuck, fuck. “Okay, maybe. Yeah, probably.”

“Probably?” she snaps, sitting up too quickly and clutching her head. “Fuck, my brain feels like it’s gonna split in half. Okay, but like—wait.” Her voice falters, her panic mounting as her eyes search your face. “Did you—did you, uh, cum inside me?”

You freeze, the question hitting you like a brick to the face. “What?” you ask, stalling for time as your headache roars back to life. “I don’t…fuck, I don’t remember. I was so wasted—”

“Oh my god,” she interrupts, her voice trembling as she throws off the covers and sits back on her heels, her hands flying between her legs. She winces, her fingers brushing something sticky, and when she pulls them back, her face goes pale. “Oh my fucking god. I can feel it. It’s—it’s dry—holy shit, you really came inside me!”

Your stomach twists violently as the memories come flooding back—the heat of her body, the way she clung to you, the way you spilled into her so deeply it felt like you’d never come back up for air. “Shit,” you mutter, dragging a hand down your face. “Okay. Fuck. Yeah, that…definitely happened.”

“On Christmas?” she nearly shrieks, clutching the sheet around herself like it’s some kind of moral shield. “You knocked me up on fucking Christmas? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up!” you say, raising your hands defensively. “First of all, technically it was on Christmas Eve. Hmm, although there is a big chance it could have happened after midnight, I think we got here pretty late…” Hanni looks at you as if contemplating the idea of committing murder. “Oh, second and most importantly, nobody’s knocked up yet. It doesn’t happen that fast!”

“Yeah, but you fucking came inside me!” she shoots back, her voice a wild mix of fury and panic. “What the hell were we thinking? Why the fuck didn’t we use a condom?!” 

“I don’t know, Hanni! We were drunk off our asses! I barely even remember half of last night!” You gesture vaguely at the room, at the scattered clothes and the bed completely messed up. “I mean, look at this shit. Does this look like the scene of responsible decision-making?”

She glares at you, her hands still clutching the sheet tightly. “Okay, well, what the fuck do we do now? The pharmacies are probably closed. It’s Christmas! Do you think there’s some magical 24/7 Plan B hotline we can call? Hey, Santa, got any emergency contraceptives in that bag of yours?”

Her sarcasm slices through the tension, and despite the mounting panic, you can’t help but laugh—a short, bitter sound. “Yeah, let’s just write to the fucking North Pole. ‘Dear Santa, I was very naughty last night. Please send condoms and a time machine.’”

She doesn’t laugh. She’s too busy pacing now, muttering under her breath as she tries to piece together a plan. “Okay, okay, maybe there’s a convenience store open somewhere. Or—fuck, do I know someone who could have contraceptives? No, that’s stupid—god, I’m so fucking stupid—”

Hanni moves like a whirlwind, her body tense and her face set as she grabs her scattered clothes off your bedroom and hallway floor. She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even glance in your direction as she yanks her sweater over her head and hops into her underwear with sharp, jerky movements. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheet pooling around your waist, watching her with growing agony.

“Hanni, will you just fucking stop for a second?” you say, your voice low but urgent. “We need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” she snaps, still not looking at you as she grabs her jeans. “About how we were too drunk and stupid to use protection? About how I might have a goddamn Christmas baby on the way? Yeah, sounds like a super fun conversation.”

You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Come on, don’t do this. We can figure it out together—”

“There’s nothing to figure out!” she interrupts, finally turning to face you, her expression a volatile mix of anger and panic. “I’m going home. I need—I just need to think. Alone.”

“Alone?” you repeat, standing up, the sheet slipping off your waist. “You’re seriously just gonna leave? What if you—”

“I’ll find a pharmacy,” she says quickly, cutting you off again. “I’ll take care of it. I just… I can’t fucking deal with this right now, okay?”

“Hanni, please,” you say, stepping closer, reaching out to grab her arm. “Don’t shut me out. I—fuck, I care about you. We’ll get through this together.”

She pulls her arm out of your grip, her jaw tight. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who could end up pregnant. You’re not the one who has to wonder how the fuck you got here with your best friend.”

This unsettles you for a moment, but before you can reply, she’s already slipping on her jacket, her hand on the doorknob. “Hanni,” you say again, softer this time, your voice almost pleading. “Stay. Please.”

She pauses, just for a second, her shoulders slumping. But then she shakes her head, her voice nothing but a whisper. “I can’t.” 

And with that, she’s gone, leaving you standing in the doorway, naked, hungover, and completely fucking lost.

—

The next few weeks are a blur of radio silence and vague, clipped texts that feel more like placeholders than actual communication. Hanni texts you the morning after to say she found a pharmacy that was miraculously open on Christmas and took the pill, but that’s it. No follow-ups, no calls, just short, impersonal messages that feel like they’re written by a stranger.

You spend every day alternating between guilt, panic, and a weird, gnawing ache you can’t quite name. Every time your phone buzzes, your heart races, hoping it’s her. Half the time it’s not, and the other half it’s just more of the same: I’m fine. Just busy. Talk later.

When “later” finally comes, it’s weeks down the line. You’re sitting on your couch, staring blankly at some shitty Netflix movie you’re not even watching, when your phone rings. The sight of Hanni’s name on the screen jolts you upright, your heart pounding as you fumble to answer.

“Hanni,” you say, your voice cracking slightly. “Hey. What’s—what’s up?”

There’s a pause, and then her voice comes through, soft and hesitant. “I got my period.”

Relief floods through you so fast it almost knocks you over. “Oh, thank fuck,” you mutter, leaning back into the couch, your head tipping back against the cushions. “That’s—that’s fucking great news.”

“Yeah,” she says, but there’s no relief in her tone. Just exhaustion. “It is.”

You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you like a storm cloud. Finally, you clear your throat. “Can I see you? Maybe we could grab coffee or something, just talk. I miss you, Hanni.”

She sighs, long and heavy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What…? Why not?”

“Because,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “Because I’ve spent the last few weeks losing my mind, thinking about what might have happened, what did happen. I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck we ended up here, and I still don’t have an answer.”

“We ended up here because we were drunk and stupid,” you say quickly, your words spilling out like a defense mechanism. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a mistake?” she interrupts, her tone sharper now. “Because that’s what I keep asking myself. Was this a mistake? Did we ruin everything for one fucking night of drunken stupidity?”

“Hanni,” you say, your voice low and steady. “It wasn’t just one night. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel something—”

“Of course I feel something!” she snaps, cutting you off. “That’s the fucking problem! I can’t stop thinking about it—about you. About your hands, your body, your mouth, your fucking cock. And that’s why I can’t see you right now, because if I do…” She trails off, her breath hitching.

“Because if you do, what?” you press, your chest tight.

“Because if I do, it’s gonna happen again,” she says, her voice trembling. “And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or if it’s just gonna destroy everything we had.”

“We’ve already fucked up everything we had, Hanni,” you say quietly. “The question is whether we’re gonna fix it or just throw it all away.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, bitter and broken. “I don’t know if it can be fixed. I don’t even know what it is anymore.”

“So what?” you say, your voice rising slightly. “You’re just gonna ghost me? Walk away from everything we’ve built?”

“I’m not walking away,” she says softly. “I just… I need time. To figure out what I want, what we are, what we could be. I need to get over this before I see you again. Because if I don’t…”

“I thought you loved me... I mean, you said that to me that night.” 

“I wasn't ready, you understand? Not really. This wasn't how I wanted it to happen… our first time, the confession of my feelings… I just…”

She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t need to. The weight of her words hangs heavy in the silence, suffocating you.

“When will I see you?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she replies, her voice cracking. “I really don’t.”

“Hann—”

The line cuts out, and you’re left holding the phone, staring at her name disappearing from the screen. The movie’s still playing, but it might as well not be.

You drop the phone, lean back, and close your eyes. Outside, the world moves on, but inside, it’s just silence—heavy, empty, and endless.

[latenightdaydreams]

Christmas Party w/ König

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw:fem/afab, drinking, p in v, public-ish sex

🎅

.

.

.

König loses a bet with Horangi and comes into work dressed as Santa Claus during the small Christmas party being held in the common room. While everyone is sitting around and eating food while chatting, a heavy silence falls upon the room when König’s heavy footsteps disrupt the festivities. 

In the doorway he stands with a scowl hidden beneath his cheap Santa beard. It’s the most anyone has seen of his face before, the only reason everyone knows it’s König is because of his massive size. The silence is disrupted by Horangi’s loud cackles; one arm wrapped around his abdomen as he points with his other hand. 

“You look so fucking stupid!” Horangi nearly falls off of his chair. 

König says nothing just walking in with a velvety sack over his shoulder. He walks up to Horangi and simply pushes his head to the side in anger. “Shut up.” He hisses. 

You sit there giggling softly. König notices, blushing softly. He clears his throat trying to push down the butterflies he always gets when he’s near you. Walking past you, he sits on an empty chair and leans back. 

Most people in the room go back to their small conversations, but you, with the courage of heavily spiked eggnog, stand from your seat and make your way over to König. He looks up at you with a surprised look on his face. Before he can say anything to you, you sit on his lap and place an arm around his shoulder. 

“Hey there, Santa.”

“Hallo…” König’s voice cracks as he looks into your glimmering eyes. 

Horangi looks at you sitting on his lap with astonishment. 

“Am I on the naughty or nice list this year?” You ask giggling. 

That giggle. 

“You…” his eyes unintentionally drop to the curve of your breasts, “are on the nice list.” 

“Am I?” You reach out and tug on his beard, lightly letting it snap back against his face. 

“Ja…”

König can feel his cock beginning to grow erect as you wiggle on his lap slightly. The side of your leg rubbing against the crotch of his red Santa pants. His heart thumps in his chest as he tries his best to act unaffected by your presence. 

“That’s a shame. I wanted to be on the naughty list.”

“Why would you want that?” He asks, chuckling slightly. 

You giggle at the sound of his nervous chuckle. The light in the room makes his pale blue eyes shimmer in yours. His cock twitches slightly, bumping your leg and causing your attention to drift downwards. 

“Maybe I wanted Santa to punish me.”

“Punish you?”

“Punish me.” You lean closer to him as you speak, the smell of the alcohol on your lips wafts to his nose. 

König stands, grasping the plump flesh on your ass and hips, fingers digging in, as his hips ram into yours at a quick pace. His red pants dropped and resting around his ankles. Your loud drunken moans fill the room as your breasts bounce free from your blouse.

“Naughty girl.” König growls as his wide palm comes down to spank your ass, leaving a red mark in its wake. 

“Fuck yes! Punish me with your fat cock!” You cry out as you feel the stinging burn from the slap. 

“Perfect fucking ass…” Is all you’re able to understand before König begins to speak in German. Telling you how long he’s been wanting to feel you wrapped around his cock, see you underneath him. 

A smile crosses your face as your body feels as if it’s floating on a cloud of pure ecstasy. You can feel yourself drop down the side of your leg each time his cock pulls out before pulling a pathetic moan from you once he buries himself back inside of you. Your head turns to look at him, the Santa beard barely even in his face, exposing his scarred handsome face. His eyes meet yours and he simply smirks before grasping a handful of your hair and forcing your face down. 

Outside the door Horangi and a few other soldiers stand with jaws dropped and looks of shock on their faces. The sound of the creaking desk, flesh on flesh, and orgasmic pleasure pour out into the hallway where they stand.

[808airsoftbros]

Christmas Wish (Female Idols)

Author: Merry Christmas everyone, here is my special holidays oneshot. I may or may not write a New Year's special sequel as I did plan to write a smut into this but I didn't have the time and energy spent on the Holiday mayhem. Anyway, hope you enjoy and if you want to check out more stories go to Masterlist.

Silent night, holy night All is calm, all is bright Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child Holy Infant so tender and mild Sleep in heavenly peace Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, holy night Shepherds quake at the sight Glories stream from heaven afar Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia Christ the Savior is born Christ the Savior is born

Silent night, holy night Son of God, love's pure light Radiant beams from Thy holy face With the dawn of redeeming grace Jesus Lord, at Thy birth Jesus Lord, at Thy birth

Y/N's POV

It was another night of singing Christmas carols in my local church theatre, just like every year on the holidays. Despite the years that had passed, everyone showed up in droves, and family and friends came together.

Some are apart for most of the year for study or work, and seeing them come together again as a union once more makes me envy them.

My whole life I grew up as an orphan, I don't even know what my family looks like or what it's even like to have one. I was unwanted, cast aside, and not even worth a penny in this society.

Then why do I sing these stupid Christmas carols? I don't even know myself... Maybe because it's all I know because there's nowhere to go? Perhaps.

But the real reason doesn't matter much now, does it? No, not really. I don't even know the meaning of life, and I have no idea of my purpose.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for taking the time to come to this wonderful Christmas chorale this evening! It was such a pleasure to always host this yearly tradition in this glamorous town! And it's such a wonderful feeling seeing all of you reunited with family and friends you may not have seen in years, now, please give a warm applause to our singers!" The host spoke to the crowd and they all cheered as they clapped the sounds echoing in the church.

As we all dispersed from our group, I didn't even bother staying for the after-party as nobody cared about me and wouldn't notice I was gone. I knew I was simply a meaningless character in the background of everyone's story.

Once I walked inside the comfort of my apartment I sighed as I closed the door, I sat down on the couch cracking open a bottle of apple soju from the fridge just dazing in my thoughts.

"Silent night~. Holy night~. Yeah, shut the fuck up..." I said to myself as that stupid chorale was stuck playing in my head as if the Universe was mocking me.

Why does my life fucking suck? I don't know and I don't even care at this point... Because what's the point in life anymore?

Everyone has a purpose in life, whether to be working, being a celebrity for everyone to admire and fan over, or whatever that may be. But here I am slouching in my apartment like a waste of space in this world.

What is my damn purpose here? To be a pathetic joke and stain on society? Wow, what a way to start my life and this will likely stay that way forever.

Looking at the clock, I sighed deeply as it was nearly time for me to go to work, I slipped on my shopkeeper's uniform before heading into the store to relieve my co-worker who was wrapping up his shift for the day.

"Ah, Merry Christmas, Y/N, right on time as usual," He greeted and I nodded.

"Busy today?" I asked and he nodded.

"Yup, the store's been packed with tourists all day, but tonight should be slow since nobody is out at night so it should be a pretty slow and chill shift for you," He sighed as he grabbed his things.

I watched as my co-worker walked out of the store and into the winter snow as the sun was slowly starting to set down and darkness slowly began taking over the city.

Settling down on the stand, I placed in headphones listening to chill music to pass the time as I stared at the empty store, even though this was going to be boring as hell it was free money for me and I pretty much had the run of the store.

I did ring out a few late-night customers that I see every night buying beer and smokes along with snacks but other than that the streets are empty.

"That would be all tonight for you miss?" I asked politely and the customer nodded.

"Yes please," She replied as I rang up her items.

Just as I was about to finish up the transaction I heard the doorbell ringing, glancing to see who was entering, it was a woman wearing a black mask and a black winter coat wearing high heels with black stockings.

This made me raise an eyebrow as I had never seen the woman around here before, I thanked the lady for shopping there as I handed her the bag of her stuff, and I silently watched the strange woman as the lady walked out of the store.

I sighed leaning back on the chair as I quietly watched the woman browse the snack and beer section with a hint of curiosity but I kept it subtle so as not to create an awkward situation.

About maybe five minutes later, she grabbed some snacks along with the most expensive wine available which is a bit surprising as nobody has ever purchased it as long as I worked here.

"Hello, miss, will this be all tonight?" I asked in that same professional and polite tone.

The lady didn't reply but just nodded and I shrugged as I assumed she wasn't a talker, I ringed up her snacks but when I rang up the wine the POS locked me out requiring me to enter a date of birth.

"Can I see your ID real quick?" I asked politely and she seemed hesitant.

"Sorry miss, but if you don't show me your ID, I cannot sell you this," I informed her and she sighed as she pulled out her wallet before showing me her ID card.

Reading the date of birth the expiration date along with the authenticity, everything seemed to check out as she was above the age of 18 but the issue was her face as she was wearing the mask.

"Again, I'm sorry, but could pull down your mask? I need to see if the picture on your ID matches yours," I instructed and she seemed a bit irritated.

"Come on, I'm over 18, and I got places to be," She complained and I sighed as it seemed she was another difficult customer.

"I deeply apologize ma'am, but this is the law we're talking about here and I unfortunately don't make the rules here. Either show your face or you'll have to leave the wine behind," I explained to her and she huffed still refusing.

Just as I was about to take the wine off, I heard the doorbell ringing and another lavish woman walked in looking confused.

"Yah, Chewie, what's taking so long?" She asked her.

"Well, this idiot here thinks my ID isn't mine," The woman nicknamed Chewie answered and she sighed.

"Probably because we're wearing masks. Just do it, Chewie, before we're late, and besides, nobody else is here at this hour," the strange lady pointed out, and Chewie rolled her eyes.

Reluctantly, the woman pulled down her mask and picture on the ID, and her face checked out, allowing the transaction to finish up and me to not have to put up with her rich, snotty attitude.

"I'm sorry about that, sir. She doesn't get along with strangers well," the lady apologized on her behalf.

"No worries, it's part of the job," I assured and the lady sighed in relief seeing I wasn't too angry about the petty issue.

As they grabbed the bag of items, I watched them leave making me sigh in relief as I could get back to my other duties. I have dealt with many stupid customers in the past but this was a first, having some rich snot thinking they're above everyone else and the law.

I shrugged it off as I went to cook up some fresh hot dogs for the hot food stock along with pretzels stuffing the pre-made dough in the oven.

After I finished restocking the store, I wiped down the counter when I heard the doorbell ringing again and I looked up to see a couple of women wearing the same masks as the previous two did but their clothing was more casual this time instead of the lavish designer clothes.

Naturally, I kept my guard up and ready for their nonsensical rich crap as I wiped down the counter until the two women walked up to me holding a couple of cases of soju.

"Good evening, ladies, will this be all today?" I asked politely.

"Yup, that will be all, do you need to see our IDs?" One of them asked and I was a bit surprised.

"Uhm, yes, please," I answered they showed their IDs without a fuss and pulled down masks proving the pictures matched.

"Aight, your ladies check out," I informed them.

"By any chance, did our little friend Chewie give you any trouble tonight?" Haseul asked kindly and I raised an eyebrow.

"Who again?" I asked a bit confused.

"You know, the tall Taiwanese woman that just walked in here," Heejin chimed in and I chuckled.

"Eh, somewhat, nagging about pulling down her mask," I answered but also kept it professional and they giggled.

"Yeah, she's like that, that's why we don't often take her out much because she always causes trouble and we can't have news reporting scandals about her, can we?" Haseul mentioned as she inserted her credit card into the pin pad.

"What do you mean?" I asked and they seemed surprised by my question.

Haseul and Heejin looked at each other for a moment, somehow assuming that I might've heard about them like they were some sort of celebrities. Or perhaps they are and I live under a rock.

"N-Nevermind, how much do I owe?" Haseul asked giving a nervous smile and I told her the amount due.

Once the transaction was complete I handed over the receipt and they left without saying another word. I grabbed the cleaning cloth when I noticed Haseul had left her phone on my counter.

I grabbed the phone and rushed out of the store but by the time I got out, I watched them start their car and drive away and I sighed as I went back into the store seeing no point in chasing after them.

Getting back behind the counter trying to figure out what to do next, after thinking for some time I got an idea, I grabbed a paperclip in the drawer and bent it out to make a needle.

I take the phone out of its case carefully making sure I don't damage or scratch anything, I find the hole on the side and insert the needle popping out the SIM card slot.

"Bingo," I muttered holding the SIM card.

Seeing there were no customers around and the store was neat and tightly for now, I had plenty of spare time to kill as I took out my laptop plugged the SIM card into the slot, and used software to decode the information and find her phone number.

When I finished getting the necessary information, I managed to write down her number before sending her a text informing her that she had left her phone at my store.

I placed my phone down feeling rather odd at how she easily trusted me despite being a stranger to her, I guess she must be that busy and desperate to trust me that much.

Welp, there's nothing much more I can do about it unfortunately and I can only wait until my shift is over so I can turn her phone over.

Looking up the address on Google, it luckily wasn't too far away and within walking distance, but it's also impressive that they are located in the most expensive hotel in the city which shouldn't be all that surprising.

When I finally finished my shift, I made my way to the hotel but as I was walking I just wondered why Haseul didn't ask how I got her number in the first place. Strange now I think about it...

Whatever, the least I can do now is return her phone and get out of their hair for good, and it's not like they'll drag me into their hotel room and make me their pet, right? Some sort of delusional Christmas wish.

Anyway, I finally made my way through the hotel lobby after getting the number of their room, I hopped onto the elevator to the top floor, making my way through the corridor filled with pots of plants and statues.

Walking past the various rooms, I managed to find the right one, I took a breath before hitting the doorbell button.

"Who could that be?!" I heard a female voice ask loudly.

"I hope it's not a saesang! Let me check!"

Hearing footsteps coming upon the door, assuming the person was looking through the peephole, the door opened soon after.

"Can I help you?" A squirrel-looking Japanese woman asked and I held up Haseul's phone.

"I came to return Haseul's phone, I believe this belongs to her," I informed her handing over the phone to her.

"Oh, why thank you but how did you find it?" The woman asked cautiously.

"Haseul texted me to come here, I used the SIM card to track her number... I hope that doesn't sound too creepy, I didn't know what else to do," I explained nervously hoping that they don't call the cops on me.

The woman looked at me checking me out and making sure I wasn't some creepy stalker or hacker coming to steal her information or something.

Soon after, she called Haseul over and she came over soon after sighing in relief that I arrived before handing back her phone.

"Oh, thank you so much! You're a real lifesaver!" Haseul thanked me profusely.

"Yeah, it's no problem, Noona, Merry Christmas," I replied and was about to walk away.

"Hold it!"

I froze in place, slowly turning around to see what they wanted, my stomach hung in balance as I could only imagine the worst about to come.

"You really thought we'd let you leave without thanking you properly~?" Haseul asked with a warm smile and I raised an eyebrow.

"Uhh... What?" I asked.

"What she's saying is that we want you to stay for the party, if you're free of course," Nayeon chimed in and my eyes widened.

Well, I'll fucking be...

"Uh... yeah, I am," I confessed nervously and Nayeon came forward taking my arm and dragging me into their room almost seeming the ridiculous Christmas wish was coming true after all... At least most of it.

As Nayeon got me inside the room, the squirrel woman closed the door behind us, I was taken into the living room where I was astonished to see it was all girls.

"Oh, Haseul, is that Y/N? The one you kept talking about?" A Thomas-looking woman asked and Haseul nodded.

"Well, he is cute,"

"Is he staying for the party?"

"Ugh, why is he here?"

"Yah! Chewie, be nice to our guest for once!"

"Hmph!"

As the Japanese woman introduced herself, Sana seated me on the couch next to her, keeping her arm locked around mine. The girls just chuckled amusingly, seeing how clingy she was around me.

"Yah, miss flirt, you might give the guy a nosebleed if you keep holding him like that?" Jeongyeon pointed out at Sana pressing her boobs on my arm and she giggled only putting more pressure.

"So what if I do? I do enjoy pampering... Especially young men," She replied with a sultry tone as she caressed my chest making me gulp.

"Oh, God, Unnie, you always are a creep. You know that?" Tzuyu rolled her eyes, but Sana took no notice.

"Don't worry about them sweetheart, I have a surprise Christmas present waiting in the bedroom... If you know what I mean~," She giggled in a flirty way and I swore I felt my nose was about to bleed any second.

Soon after, the sassy idol Chaewon approached me, wrapping an arm around mine and forcing me away from her, but Sana brought me back.

"Yah! I saw him first!" Sana bickered.

"No! I won't let you corrupt him! Especially on the Holidays!" Chaewon replied as she continued tugging at me.

"Yah! Girls enough already!" JiU butted in breaking them and sighing in relief as I felt I was gonna get split into two.

"Look, girls, like Chaewon said, it's the Holiday season, and Christmas is around the corner. How about we all just enjoy each other's company while it lasts? We've all had a busy year, and we certainly don't need to add more problems right now, so how about we move on and enjoy ourselves?" Jihyo proposed, and the girls agreed.

"Does that mean I go home?" I asked raising my hand and the girls all shook their heads.

"No!" They all said in unison and I sighed.

When the party was done being set up for tonight, the girls went out shopping, of course, I was dragged along against my will with Gaeul, Handong, Sana, and Chaewon.

We all split into multiple groups, and I stayed with the four girls, who kept me in place and took me around the massive mall full of toy shops, gaming surplus, and much more as the girls shopped for clothes.

"First off, my dear, let's upgrade that Dinosaur of a phone," Handong pointed out.

"But it's the iPhone 4..." I mentioned and Gaeul facepalmed making me confused as this is the latest phone... At least that's what I thought.

"Pabo! Were you living under a rock? Come, let us show you the magic of modern technology," Chaewon said, taking my hand and leading me into the Apple store.

Looking around, I marveled at the accessories for Airpods, Beats, and iPads, and I was surprised to see the new iPhone lineup. I was living under a rock, being so busy with work and staying at my apartment most of the time.

One of the staff members approached, asking if they needed assistance. The girls asked the guy for the most expensive iPhone they had, and he took us over to the iPhone 16 Pro Max, which made my jaw drop as it was a whopping $1,599, the initial price for 1 TB.

Of course, being idols this was nothing to them as they paid for the new phone and soon set me up with the new model.

"Jeez, I know I returned your phone but this is quite a bit much," I commented checking out my new phone.

"No worries, dear, this will not even be close to denting our bank accounts compared to the rest of the shopping trip," Sana giggled.

"So best prepare yourself to be spoiled all day," Chaewon said, and I sighed as I was dragged along with them.

The entire day was spent just the girls buying shit for me like luxury brands like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and even Lego sets that I've wanted. All of this would've made me broke but I guarantee none of these expenses wasn't even close to making dents to their accounts.

"Come on, Y/N, we still got more shops to look at! I gotta get Christmas gifts for my family!" Chaewon said in a demanding tone as she held my hand.

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me I need to find something for my siblings," Sana remembered as she looked around the stores.

"Same, I gotta find gifts for my parents," Handong mentioned.

"I also have to find a gift for my Oppa and parents," Gaeul chimed as she looked around the stores to see if there were gifts they might like.

Following the girls around various stores, it felt like forever as the girls searched the clothing stores and jewelry shops until they finally settled on the perfect presents.

"Ah, this is perfect! My Eomma is gonna love this!" Sana said in a satisfied manner as she inspected the custom butterfly necklace that was laced with diamonds.

"Wow, that is so pretty, Unnie!" Gaeul agreed.

Wrapping up the Christmas mall shopping, we all reunited holding multiple shopping bags but I saw Jihyo holding the most compared to me.

"You gonna lend a girl a hand~?" Jihyo playfully asked and I looked down seeing my hands were full as it is.

"Kidding, Y/N, I see you're hands look like they're about to fall off and I've handled more bags than this, especially when the girls go out shopping in many places around the world," Jihyo chuckled.

We walked to the two vans we took to drive here placing all the bags into the trunks before I joined Gaeul and the three girls in one of the vans.

"You look tired, my dear, you can lay your head on my shoulder or lap if you want~," Sana offered wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Yah! No, listen to that old hag! My body is more comfy!" Gaeul rebutted and they bickered making me groan as I leaned against the headrest enduring the noisy girls the entire ride.

Once we finally made it back to the hotel, we carried the shopping bags inside the room making sigh in relief as the bags were heavy as hell.

The girls were starving, of course, JiU, Haseul, and Jihyo agreed to order room service making lots of orders as the girls wrote down what they wanted.

"So what do you want, my dear, Y/N~?" Heejin asked handing over the paper and pen.

"Uhm, not sure if I want... Hehe," I politely declined and she pouted.

"Oh, come on, Y/N, it's on us and we did promise to spoil you~," Heejin insisted and I sighed as I couldn't resist that adorable pout.

Writing down what I wanted the girls chimed in money to pay for the food before making the order on the phone, Choerry and Liz sat next to me hugging me from both sides.

"So how do you think of the party so far~?" Choerry playfully asked.

"It's something... Though I never expected to be here for simply returning a phone," I nervously answered and they giggled.

"I know, kinda reminds you of one of those Wattpad fanfictions, huh?" Liz asked and I found it funny now I think about it.

"And would you know that, Liz?" Leeseo asked raising an eyebrow and Liz blushed almost sheepishly admitting she had been reading fan fiction.

"Oh, no worries, Liz! I think we all have read some of them at one point, I do find them interesting and some are quite ho-" SuA was about to say but Yves quickly covered her mouth.

"Hey! We have babies here!" Yves shushed her as she pointed at Leeseo and Eunchae.

"But I'm an adult now, right~?" Eunchae teasingly mentioned.

"Doesn't matter! You are still a baby!" Yves refuted and Eunchae pouted.

Just as I thought Liz and Choerry were enough, I found Yeojin sitting on my lap and curling up to me. She hugged me and nuzzled her face into my neck, which I found oddly cute.

"Yah! Yeojin! I want a turn!" Eunchae demanded but Yeojin stuck out her tongue in a mockery manner making the girls roll their eyes playfully watching the Maknaes fighting over my attention.

Well, my friends, I guess the lesson here is that you should expect the unexpected, especially during the Holiday season. Here I am, a background character being the main protagonist in this new world.

What do I expect next? I don't know, but I do know that I am not going anywhere with them all over me. Merry Christmas.

[sturnlsstuff]

FAMILIAR STRANGER | chapter six

what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?

ghostface!chris x enemy!reader

chapter five

— warnings; smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v, rough, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, bratty reader, cursing, - english isn't my first language.

~~~

you have gone through many stressful situations in your life. most of the time you didn't care about anything, always chilling and thinking logically, not emotionally. however, there were moments when even you started losing your shit and they were always more intense than they should have been. one of them, for example, was taking your driving test, which kept you up at night. or your 18th birthday that stressed you out so much that you had to drink a bottle of wine alone before the party to get rid of the anxiety. or choosing what college you wanna go to, and whether you'll even get there or not. lots of stressful days in your life, lots of situations.

but your heart had never beat as fast as it did in this moment.

your thumb hovering over the 'send' button while you consider all the pros and cons of what you're doing. biting your lower lip nervously, feeling the taste of blood in your mouth, but even this doesn't stop you. you had to make a decision whether to text chris or not, and that wasn't supposed to be so stressful, but it was.

after he left you alone in his room at the party, you didn't see him at all. after fixing your makeup, you went back downstairs and found emma, telling her you were going home, needing to process whatever happened in chris's room and how it made you feel. she knew you were with someone, anyone would notice by the state you were in, even if you tried to make yourself look presentable for twenty minutes in front of the mirror in chris's room. somehow you managed to get rid of emma and her questions for now, ignoring her for two days. in fact ignoring everyone, needing some time alone, but it didn't feel like you were by yourself at all, with the way chris was in your mind every second of the day.

finally, before you could change your mind, you sent the message and threw your phone to the other end of the couch, hugging your legs to your chest and clutching your heated cheeks as if that would somehow help you. tense silence remains in the living room for the next two minutes, as you start to regret texting him.

another five minutes and you finally reach for your phone, ready to delete the message when you see three dots showing that he is replying. with w muffled scream, your phone flies across the room as you throw it again, a notification indicating a new message heard. for a second you just sit still, wheels turning in your head, but then you almost jump from your place, your legs on the couch, the rest of your body hanging off it as you steady yourself with one hand on the floor, the other picking up your phone and reading the message. you could feel the blood rushing to your head.

"bitch," you mutter to yourself, looking at the screen in pure disbelief. there's no way you were stressing for the past hour to send that fucking simple message, overthinking all night if you should even text him and how to do it to not sound too desperate, even wondering if three question marks is too much and maybe you should put one, and he just said he's busy.

unfortunately for him, you weren't a person who gave up easily, and if you finally decided to talk to him, you will do everything to make it happen. so you reply back, not having to wait for his response too long.

you roll your eyes, upset that you even tried to start any conversation with him, that you wasted the entire day yesterday and today thinking about him when he was clearly busy and definitely not overthinking anything like you did. you're not only mad at him, but also at yourself for being so stupid. after all it was chris, there's nothing to talk about here. he had his way with you and that's it, nothing changes.

not that you wanted it to change anyway.

leaving him on seen, you decide to take care of yourself a little bit, to relaxe since this stress made you feel and look terrible, bags under your eyes after two sleepless nights. so the next hour you spend in your bathtub, cool music filling your ears as you read a book, careful not to make it wet.

then you hear a noise coming from your room, at first thinking it's some hallucination from the lack of sleep, so you stop the music and listen, immediately hearing another muffled bang that makes you jump out of the tub, almost soaking your book. cursing under your breath, you wrap a towel around your waist, looking around to find anything which could be useful in defense. all you find is a glass flowerpot, so you take it, poking your head out from behind the bathroom door.

silence.

you carefully step out of the bathroom, water dripping onto the floor from your body as you walk slowly barefoot towards your room where the door was slightly open. it seemed stupid to go there, but you were acting out of adrenaline.

you heard another curse and the sound of the window closing, a frown appearing between your eyebrows as you gently opened the door, ready to attack whoever the fuck was in your room, clutching the flowerpot in one hand and holding the towel that was sliding off your body with the other.

"chris, what the fuck?!" your eyes wide as he turns around to look at you, dressed as a ghostface.

"i got fuckin' stuck," he removes his mask, running his hand through his hair, eyes immediately traveling up and down your wet body, covered by nothing but some thin towel.

immediately pressing the material against your body, now feeling strangely naked, your expression questioning him before your mouth could. he rolls his eyes, "told ya to remember 'bout closin' this fuckass window, didn't i?" he takes off his robe, leaving him in black pants and a t-shirt, his gaze had not left your figure, a strange shiver pass through him, which he only felt around you. "i knocked on the door, but you didn't answer again."

"couldn't you call me?"

he blinks stupidly, his eyes moving back up, "right." then he notices the flower pot in your hand, a low mocking laugh leaving his lips, "wanted to kill me with this?"

you glance at the flower pot, rolling your eyes and walking into the room to put it on the desk, feeling his eyes on you. "i was taking a bath, you idiot—" turning around, you almost jump when he's suddenly in front of you.

"i noticed," he smirks, tilting his head to the side. you try to ignore his intense gaze, "what do you want anyway?"

"you wanted to talk."

"weren't you busy?"

"took care of that," he retors. your eyebrow arches up as you peak out behind him at the mask and knife placed on the bed. "yes," he simply says, noticing your expression. you didn't need to know anything else.

"well, okay," clearing your throat, you grab some clean clothes from the dryer. "let me get dressed first."

"no need to rush," at the stare you give him, chris lifts his hands up in surrender and flops on your bed just as you leave the room.

you put on some shorts and a two size too big shirt, quickly cleaning up the bathroom as well. honestly, you were playing on time. you didn't expect him to come after he definitely said no in the text, and now you had no idea what to tell him, and the stress you were feeling earlier came back stronger than before.

finally finding the courage you leave the bathroom, finding chris in the living room looking at the photos you had on the wall. stopping in the doorway, you quickly tie your hair into a ponytail.

"i remember that," he points at one picture with you, him, his brothers and nate on it after one of your old friend's birthday party. you liked this one a lot.

"crazy night—"

"we danced together," he says casually though his voice a little weaker as if the memory of it was doing something to him. you're taken back that he even remembers since he was awfully high that night.

"yeah..." your voice unsure since neither of you ever mentioned it before. "-- yeah, we did."

the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile but he quickly hides it, licking his lips and settling on the couch. you take the seat next to him, keeping your distance.

after a short silence, he speaks up, "it was fun. that party." you agree with a nod of your head. that night you two were pretty chill, he was high, you were drunk and both of you just had fun, for a few hours not remembering that you disliked each other. sometimes you thought of it and wondered why couldn't it be like this all the time.

"so," he clears his throat, getting more comfortable on the couch, arm resting on the back of the sofa as he looks at you. "what's this super important conversation you've wanted to have with me?" his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"uh, right... about that—" you think about how to put it into words, heart pounding in your chest while your brain working at full speed. finally you just blurt out mindlessly, "we fucked."

chris raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, "really? didn't notice."

you open your mouth and then close it again, trying to ignore his comment. taking a deep breath, you continue, "i mean... well, i was kind of drunk, let's be honest. so i didn't think—"

"c'mon, kid, we both know you'd fuck me even sober," he rolls his eyes, slight annoyance in his tone at the clear delusion coming from you.

"that's literally not even close to what i'm talking about..." a wave of heat washes over you from embarrassment of being called out like that. you had to find some excuse, because to be honest, you didn't know how you ended up in chris's bed. well, you knew how, but you needed some explanation for yourself. though, what you're for sure aware of, is that the desire and arousal you felt was real. "it was, like, another moment of weakness."

"you got a lot of 'em with me recently," he teases, scanning your face as if looking for something. for a moment you were speechless from the intensity of his blue eyes. and chris noticed it. of course he did. "it was good though..." he adds, his voice lower now.

you try hard not to look too nervous while agreeing, "yeah... it was." his lips curve into that smirk you knew so well while he shamelessly checked you out again, his eyes lingering on your exposed thighs for too long. noticing that, you quickly add, "it shouldn't have happened and we won't do it again."

"yeahhhh," his tongue clicks against his teeth. chris makes eye contact with you again and that's when you know you're screwed. "we won't."

with these words you look at each other too long and too intensely, almost as if communicating between the words. and you didn't even know when or how you ended up straddling his lap, gripping his shoulders desperately trying to steady yourself while he pumps his fingers rapidly into your cunt, curling them up to hit that sweet spot inside you. his thumb rubs circles around your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. the ghostface mask is back on his face, making you clench around his fingers. it all happened in less than ten minutes, that's how weak you were for chris and how addicted to you he's become.

"mhmmm, look at you... so fuckin' pretty, drippin' all over my hand..." he says, his voice hoarse with arousal. his cock was rock hard already, uncomfortably straining against his pants. "your body doesn't lie, even if your mouth does," chris watches you closely, taking note of the way your chest heaves, lips parted with little whimpers escaping them.

"chris— mmmh, f-fuck.... so... so g-good— oh!" your walls tighten around his fingers, hips slightly grinding against his hand. he flexes his fingers inside you, stretching you, his thumb on your clit picking up speed.

he smirks to himself at how responsive you are to him, "you jus' fuckin' love when i manhandle you, huh?" he adds a third finger, scissoring them, his other hand tugging on your hair, forcing you to keep your eyes on his mask. chris was now aware of the effect it had on you and it was making him so turned on. "constantly tryin' to make me mad, messin' with my fuckin' head, kid... not really nice of you."

you let out a loud pornographic moan when his fingers once again curl inside you, hitting your g-spot perfectly, his thumb pressing more against your bud. at the feeling of you tightening around him, a low groan escapes his lips. "thaaaat's it— yes, c'mon, give it to me... show me how bad you fuckin' hate me..."

"chris!" your eyes roll back as euphoria consumes you, head dropping forward onto his shoulder. "my... god...f-fuck you—"

he pumps his fingers languidly to ride out your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure for as long as he can. "mhm, i will," he smirks, slowing down his movements. "no need to rush, princess." he finally pulls his fingers out of you, lifting up your head, "open up."

as you obey, he brings his fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately cleaning them up, tasting your own release on your tongue. "fuckkk—" he bucks his hips up, his clothed hardness pressing against your swollen bud, stealing another whimper from you.

you were sure you had lost your mind. you really wanted to make it clear today, that what happened at friday couldn't happen again, but it was so hard when he was... him.

"chris, we need to stop," you say as soon as he removes his fingers out of your mouth, immediately placing them back between your legs, gently caressing your swollen folds and spreading your wetness around, which makes you flinch from the over sensation.

"stop sayin' that when you react so strongly to me," his other hand moving to unzip his pants and pull them down his hips, freeing his leaking with precum dick. you look at him, the ghostface mask sending shivers straight into your core and you already know there's no coming back. "so?" he asks, gripping your hips, "still wanna stop?"

"no," you mutter annoyed at the way he was making you feel. chris bites his bottom lip with a grin, his body begging for any kind of release. he's never wanted anyone so badly. he lifts you up a little, then impaling you on his length in one swift, deep motion. both of you moan, his head throwing back at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. he missed this.

"fuckkk, you jus' feel so good..." he praises, holding you still for a moment to savor the feeling of being burned inside you. then he starts pounding into you, his grip on your hips painful as he doesn't let you move at all, wanting to have the control over everything.

"...what a fuckin' slut you are f'me— jesus..." he looks down, watching as he slams deep into your heat, not caring about the noises or the mess. he's too far gone to worry about anything expect the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his dick. "sooo perfect, fuck— and what'd you say, huh?" he pants, looking up at your full of pleasure expression. "not happening again? fuckin' watch."

you're practically bouncing on him from the strength with which chris fucks you from below, your walls immediately clenching around him, the overstimulation from your previous orgasm makes your head spin.

"chris, s-so-- deep..." you whine, gasping for air as he changes the position to get a better angle. he flips you onto your back on the sofa, pressing your knees against your stomach which caused him to go even deeper.

"yeah? you like to feel my fuckin' cock? look..." his fingers wraps around your wrist and he moves your hand to the noticeable bulge in your gut as he slides in and out of your wet pussy. the feeling of him like that, makes your toes curl as you quickly feel your second release approaching.

"gonna... c-cum! oh—" your whines and moans now filling the room with chris's eventual groans when he feels you constantly clenching around his dick.

"come all over me, c'mon... and m'gonna fill you up, yeah? gonna do it so fuckin' deep, you'll be leakin' my shit for days..." he snarls, his thrusts becoming harder as another orgasm washes over you, your eyes locked on his ghostface mask, even if you could barely keep them open. he doesn't even slow down while you tremble from the intensity of your release, moans leaving your lips and back arching up. "squeezin' me so tight, shiiittt— you were made f'me...."

with a feral groan, he buries himself as deep as he can, his dick pulsing as he explodes inside you, his hot seed filling your cunt to the brim. both of you panting, chris props himself on his hands of each side of your body so as not to crash you with his weight. both of you panting heavy, your eyes now closed while you try to come back on earth.

once the last waves of his climax subside, he pulls out with a wet squelch, his cum dripping out of your hole. a smirk appears on his lips at your disheveled form as he takes the mask off, pulling back to have a better look on your swollen, glistening cunt. just as your legs weakly were about to drop onto the couch, he grips your thighs, keeping you spread open for him. "that's a sight..." he runs a finger through the mess he'd made, making you whimper. "sensitive much?" his tone mocking. his fingers slipping between your folds, gathering as much as he could of his and yours release and pushing it back inside, a muffled scream escaping you.

"chris!" you smack his hand away, your legs automatically try to close. he tsks, his face full of mock innocence, "what? just cleanin' you up." his eyes glistening when he makes eye contact with you and he adds, "unless you wan' me to lick it off instead?"

"no, thanks," you mutter fully aware he'd love to overstimulate you.

"a'ight, drama queen," he rolls his eyes, grabbing the tissues from the coffee table, cleaning his own mess before passing them to you. he sits up, pulling his pants up while you proper yourself on your elbows, starting to clean up.

a silence remains in the living room, he takes a rolled joint from his pocket, placing it between his lips, and looks towards you noticing how your hands and legs are shaking a little. you weren't able to clean yourself thoroughly, the mix of your and his cum running down your inner thighs.

"kid," he lights up the joint, taking a long drag. "the fuck you doin'?"

you give him a death stare, "it's quite clear to see."

he exhales, smoke billowing out as he speaks, "but, like... you don't— just..." he groans, putting the joint back between his lips, his voice muffled, "--fuckin' gimme it... can't even clean y'self up, jesus... so annoying..."

chris practically snatches the tissues from your hands as he spreads your legs, ignoring your confused and surprised expression. he simply starts wiping the mess between your legs, his touch strangely tender, "can't do shit with that shaky ass hands..." he keeps commenting under his nose more to himself than to you, the smoke from his joint filling the room.

you watch mesmerized, as he grabs the joint between the fingers of one hand, the other still focused on the task, his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth in concentration. he was gentle, or at least chris tried to be when he saw how red and puffy your pussy looked. it was such a simple action but it made your heart do a backflip. and not only you felt this way, chris himself was somehow, almost nervous.

he finally catches up on your stare, a frown appearing between his eyebrows, "the fuck you lookin' at..." his eyes traveling to the marks he left on your hips, some of the bruises older from friday, others fresh and reddish. this sight fills him with a sense of pride. he finally leans back on the couch, throwing the used tissues aside, glancing back at you. "stop starin', kid."

your face all flushed as you finally tear your eyes away from his and manage to sit up, adjusting your shirt and looking around for your sweatpants.

"here," he hands them to you, taking another drag on his joint. you put your clothes back on, wondering what the hell was going on.

you sit next to him still slightly breathless, after a moment he passes you the joint, neither of you looking at each other as you take it.

"y'know..." chris finally speaks up, "for someone who claims to hate me so much, you sure do let me do all sorts of nasty things to ya."

that's what causes you to finally make eye contact with chris, annoyance flickering through your face at the sudden call out. "for someone who claims to hate me so much, you sure want to do a lot of nasty things to me."

he smirks amused at your response, looking like you exhale the smoke. "well, yeah, hating you and being insanely attracted t'you aren't mutually exclusive, y'know..." you raise your eyebrows as he continues, "besides i never said i hated you, i jus' said i hated you."

the clear confusion and how your cheeks were burning after his words, makes chris's grin widen. "what the fuck is the difference?"

"don' worry 'bout it," he retors, grabbing the joint from between your fingers to finish it.

"insanely attracted to me, huh?" you process his words. chris rolls his eyes, "insanely is a strong word actually, what i meant is—"

"nuh, uh," you interrupted him with a grin on your face, pointing your finger at him. "you said what you wanted to say."

"no, i—

"lalala, i can't hear youuuu," you cover your ears like a kid, the mix of annoyance and amusement building up within him. "you're a child," he puts out the butt of the joint in some empty can on the coffee table, and takes your hands away from your ears. "child."

you just smile, feeling unfamiliar warm spreading across your chest. it was strange, chris usually saw you smiling but at other people, not at him. it made him want to... kiss you? hold you?

"weirdo," he mutters, leaning back, but there's no usual bite in his tone. his arm rests on the back of the sofa behind you, his wheels turning around in his head. he glances at your side profile, his tongue clicking against his teeth, "i always wondered why you were with this idiot jake." you're taken back, glancing at him with a frown, but it doesn't discourage him from continuing. chris felt like he has to. "you were always annoying, but i thought you're better than that. he had no idea how to treat you right and you kept comin' back to him, what was insane to me. he was just a dick—"

"you wouldn't understand..."

"no, i definitely fuckin' wouldn't," he retors annoyed. "so m'not even gonna try, but he was pissin' me the fuck off. i was waitin' for the day you finally leave him for good."

"it wasn't that simple," you try to explain, but chris wasn't having any of that. "kid, don' bullshit me. you even try to defend him now when he's gone? don't tell me you..."

"no, i try to defend myself, 'cause you don't get it," you interrupt, not wanting to hear whatever he was going to say. "he was awful, but at that time i kinda just... craved affection, i guess," your cheeks heat with embarrassment. "and sometimes he was giving me that."

"what affection he could give ya? bet, he fuckin' sucked. and you deserve to get affection and all this other shit all the time, not just sometimes. that's fucked up."

"and what do you know about all of that?" you question him, which annoys the hell out of chris. "every week you have a new girl to fuck, then moving on to the next one."

he knows you're right, chris had no clue how to show affection either, he never was good at this because he simply never let himself attach to anyone. but he knew, if he had you, he would never be like your ex. chris would try his best to make sure you know you're loved.

"there's nothing wrong with that, they all know m'not lookin' for a relationship. i always tell 'em at the beginnin' that it's only a hook up. i don' play anyone..."

"always?" when chris nods, you add, "i didn't hear you saying that to me."

now he's surprised, quickly hiding it, but the way his eyes scanned your face was telling you everything you needed to know.

"well..." he slowly licks his lips, carefully thinking of his next words. "i never... i mean, i knew we'd do it again at some point... but i just— fuck, i don' know..."

your voice is dripping with sarcasm when you say the next sentence, but there was genuine curiosity behind it, "maybe deep down you expected something?"

his expression is unreadable, but chris's heart was beating so hard, he was afraid you'd hear. the question you asked stirred weird feelings inside him and he had to get out of this situation fast. you knew one of his deepest secrets already, there was no way he'd let you know his other ones.

"be serious, kid," his smirk doesn't reach his eyes. "enough with that talk. i gotta go..."

his reaction saying more than he would ever say. you watch as he stands up, "i am serious and you're running away right now—"

"shut your goddamn mouth for once, holy fuck," he snaps at you, gripping the bridge of his nose. "i have shit to do so i'm leavin', simple as that. not that is any of your business anyway."

your blood boil at his words but you don't say anything else. you were afraid your voice would betray you, so watching him gathering his stuff from your room and then hearing the front door shutting, was all you did.

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[slaymitchabernathy]

Cruel Intentions

| based off the man requests i have gotten for a new arranged marriage series!!! |

Coriolanus often wonders how he missed it. How it slipped his mind, how he was so naive, so stupid to miss it.

He thinks back to their wedding day, how sweet she was, how well behaved and perfect she was. To him, it made total sense, she was perfect because he deserved someone perfect, someone to devote their life to making him happy.

After all, Snow lands on top.

So he gave her his last name, slipped the ring on her finger, smiled for the photos, cut the cake, and whisked her away to his penthouse that would forever be her home.

The ring on his finger now feels like a ball and chain and he wants nothing more than to rip it off and toss it into the trash.

Three months ago Coriolanus Snow married Soarynn Nightingale. It was an arranged marriage, nothing new in the Capitol's elite circles who intended on keeping their circles small and exclusive. Why risk your son or daughter marrying out of their tax bracket when you can just arrange the whole thing?

Coriolanus met Soarynn at a dinner with both their parents, or well, his parents and her father. Apparently, her mother tragically passed away during childbirth, leaving Glen Nightingale with a baby girl and not a clue as to how to raise her. But he did good, he raised a polite, quiet, submissive daughter who conformed to all societal norms without the blink of an eye.

She was perfect.

Or so he thought.

The more he thinks about it, the more the signs become so obvious. Glen's eagerness to get the show on the road, how quiet Soarynn always was, how they never went on a date alone despite him being twenty-five and her being twenty. Coriolanus had brushed it off, his parents didn't want to risk a failed marriage so they were simply making sure that everything went as perfectly as possible.

Soarynn was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen, with dazzling eyes and luscious hair. She put other women to shame with her natural beauty. She dressed impeccably for someone her age and always used her manners when they were in public. Which was a good thing considering that Coriolanus was an aspiring politician who could not afford a bad reputation.

So when it came time to propose, he had no hesitation. He went out and bought a beautiful, expensive ring and slipped it on her finger without batting an eye.

Like a lamb to the fucking slaughter.

Their wedding was huge, it wasn't every day two prominent families became one. Everyone in the Capitol tuned in to watch their wedding and all their friends were there to witness the exchanging of vows.

Soarynn had been all sweet smiles and blushing cheeks, curling into him the moment too much attention landed in her lap. She had looked stunning in her wedding dress, it had been classy yet flattering for her figure, once again solidifying that he made the right choice in marrying Soarynn.

Once the wedding was over, he took her home and prepared to take her virginity, something every man planned for and every woman somewhat dreaded. He had been prepared to be gentle yet stern, she'd have to know who was the dominant party in their relationship.

She let him get the both of them undressed, on the bed and just as he was about to sink into her, she sunk her claws into him.

Soarynn was a fucking thorn in his side.

Coriolanus was quick to find out that the pretty quiet girl he thought he married was only like that in public. Behind closed doors, she gave him a run for his money. It had truly surprised him and the worst part was, no one would believe him if he told anyone. To everyone who knew her, Soarynn was so pliant, so sweet and willing to please.

He knows that he vowed to stand by her side no matter what but this has been a true testament to their marriage and they're only three months in. But he can't give up now, no, he has to push through, be strong and break her into the woman he wants her to be.

Right now she looks as innocent as ever, laughing with his mother across the room, sipping her tea. That little liar. Coriolanus looks at the man next to him who happens to be his father-in-law and wonders if Glen Nightingale is aware of the little fucking tyrant his daughter really is.

Soarynn should really consider becoming an actress based on the performance she's given everyone, including him. He was the dumbest audience member, drinking up every second of her lies.

"So when can we be expecting grandchildren?" His father asks him, causing his throat to dry up. Coriolanus has barely had time to think about children with his current campaign for President but he knows that children are expected with marriage, and sooner than possible. He can't imagine having children with Soarynn right now, they barely even have sex.

Despite her undesirable attitude towards him, Coriolanus wasn't going to let anything keep him from what was rightfully his. Sex was the one thing they could agree on. He only partook in sex when he needed to put her in her place, fucking her until she was screaming into the pillows.

It wasn't the most effective method, unfortunately. It would keep her quiet and put her in her place for about a day before she sparked back up and then he'd have to do it all over again. Coriolanus never thought he'd live in a time when sex felt like a chore but Soarynn really did bring out the worst in him.

"Soon," is all he says, watching his wife place her hand on top of his mother's. It's even worse because his mother loves Soarynn, she adores that girl like she's her own daughter. His father is more reserved in showing affection in general but Coriolanus can see it in his eyes that he's pleased with this union between them.

To his father, this is a successful business deal.

To Coriolanus, it's a punishment from an unknown source.

"How has she been doing?" Glen asks him, sipping his drink, "I know she was a bit nervous to move out." Coriolanus wants to roll his eyes at Glen's naivety but he too was once a fool who believed Soarynn's little act, "She's good," he tells Glen, offering him a tight-lipped smile, "it's been an adjustment for the both of us." The understatement of the fucking century but who's counting?

Glen nods, pleased that this has been going so well, "Ah good, I worried for the longest time that she wouldn't find someone, she's just so shy." She's also a fucking minx but what Glen doesn't know about his daughter won't hurt him.

It'll only hurt Coriolanus.

꧁ ꧂

Later that night the young Snow couple returns to their penthouse apartment and the act is dropped the second Soarynn steps through the door. "Keep your hands to yourself next time," she snaps, glaring up at him, "I'm not your fucking dog."

Coriolanus gave up on trying to be nice to her about a week into their marriage, "Well you certainly act like a little bitch," he shoots back, enjoying how her face falls. It's a battle of wits between the two of them and to his dismay, they're very well matched.

Soarynn is sharp and quick, never giving him too much time to recover from her little jabs. But Coriolanus sleeps well knowing that at the end of the day, she belongs to him.

"I'm not the one with my tail between my legs whenever we're around our parents," she says, walking down the hallway with haste. Coriolanus is right on her heels because she has no idea what he has to worry about on a daily basis. Soarynn spends her days shopping with friends and going to social events. She doesn't lift a fucking finger and yet she loves to show him her middle one.

He grabs her arm and pulls her back until they're face to face and he's fuming, "Fix your fucking attitude," he hisses, "before I fix it for you." If Soarynn was who she pretended to be, she'd be cowering in front of him with tears in her eyes, begging for forgiveness.

But she's not.

She smirks and tilts her head in the most sinister way possible, "What're you gonna do? Fuck me again? You know, you can't solve all of your problems by sticking your cock in me. One of these days you're going to have to actually grow a pair Coriolanus."

He's seething now, he'd never hit a woman but boy does she tempt him. "You belong to me," he says through gritted teeth, "and as my wife, your main priority should be to make me happy, not fucking miserable."

Soarynn rips her arm away from his grip, glaring up at him with her stormy blue eyes, "I don't belong to anyone," she spits out, "especially you."

Coriolanus watches her walk down the hall, furious and defeated at the same time.

He needs to get her under control, but how?

꧁ ꧂

"It's simple," Festus says, leaning over the table, "stop giving her what she wants."

Coriolanus feels terribly lost. He had come to his good friend Festus Creed for advice about his marriage since Festus actually believes his tales about Soarynn's behavior but now he's starting to wonder if he really is doomed.

"I don't give her anything," he claims and Festus shakes his head. "You keep giving her the reactions she's looking for," he explains, "she wants you to get upset, so you get upset. She wants you to doubt yourself and then you go ahead and doubt yourself. Stop reacting to her behavior and then you can correct it."

Coriolanus sits there dumbfounded, for once, Festus might be right.

Soarynn is clearly acting this way on purpose, to evoke a response, and one of these days if he's not careful, he's going to snap in public and then he will be the bad guy.

"Stop giving her what she wants and she'll be on her knees in no time," Festus promises, "it's reverse psychology."

Well, it's worth a shot.

꧁ ꧂

When Coriolanus comes home later that day, he doesn't go to find Soarynn like he usually does. Mostly because all he'll get in return is a glare and a scoff. Soarynn has made it very clear to him that she wants nothing to do with him unless they're in public. Behind closed doors, they stay apart, go their separate ways until it's time for bed.

He goes to his study instead, figuring he might as well prepare for his interview on Sunday. The Capitol News is interviewing all of the candidates running in the race and this will be a good time for him to gain some new supporters. He spends a few hours holed up in his study, going over questions, coming up with new, clever answers.

He still has time to go over anything with his advisors but he feels much better now that he knows what to expect. He glances at the clock on his desk and is shocked to see that it's well past dinner time. They usually have dinner together if he's home although they rarely speak and sit on opposite ends of the table.

Very domestic.

He considers getting up and going to the dining room to join her but decides against it, calling the maid to bring his dinner to him instead so he can do some more work.

It's nearing eight o'clock when he's disturbed by a soft knock at the door. "Come in," he says, still looking down at the papers in front of him. The door slowly opens and he hears her soft voice, "When did you get home?"

"Around one," he answers, not even looking at her.

"Oh."

Coriolanus resists the urge to grin, he might need to kiss Festus on the forehead because he's a genius for this idea.

"Did you need something?" He asks, flipping to the next page casually, "No," she says, "no I didn't need anything."

Coriolanus grunts, "Close the door behind you then."

He doesn't see her face but he can tell how his dismissing her makes her feel. Soarynn closes the door behind her and he listens to her quick receding footsteps.

Coriolanus finally breaks into a grin, it'll be a slow process to break Soarynn down but he's willing to put in the effort.

It's all about moves and countermoves.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus dives deep into his strategy of being cold and distant towards Soarynn. He doesn't speak to her unless absolutely necessary or if they're in public. He keeps himself busy with work and locked away in his study whenever he's home and refrains from taking any bait she lays out for him.

It's working tremendously well for him. Soarynn has been much more quiet and a lot more drawn back since he started acting this way. In public she's sweet but he can tell that she's desperate for the smallest touch he can offer her. But the second they're back home, he doesn't even look at her.

She did this to herself really, he's not the one to blame.

He's officially two months out from the election and the polls are in his favor. For now, though, something could always change as his advisors love to remind him. His mother is over the moon for his success and his father for once, seems genuinely proud of him. Running for President hasn't been an easy feat but he's doing exceptionally well if he says so himself.

He's getting ready for a charity dinner tonight, anything to show face and shake hands. Soarynn is coming with him to show support for her husband and he's got her in the palm of his hand.

He checks his reflection in the mirror one last time, making sure that his curls look perfect and that his tie is straight. The press will be there and he needs to be prepared for any questions they might ask him.

He can hear a small struggle ensuing in their bathroom and looks through the doors to see Soarynn struggling with the zipper of her dress. He sighs, he's been doing an excellent job of remaining cold and withdrawn so far but the small, hopeful part of him knows he should help her. After all, he is her husband.

He steps into the bathroom and she immediately tenses, watching him through the mirror, "Need some help?" He nods at the back of her dress and she looks unsure as to whether or not this is some sort of trap.

She finally nods, "Yes," she says softly.

Coriolanus walks up to her and rests one hand on her back while the other pulls the zipper up with ease. "Thank you," she says, turning to face him. He can see it in her eyes how lonely she is, despite having lots of friends and visiting her father, she's lonely in this big apartment when it's just the two of them. At least when they were arguing she could talk to someone.

"Tonight is very important," he tells her, ignoring her gratitude, "best behavior tonight." He walks out before she can say anything else, it's better this way.

It's better this way.

| Part 1. |

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[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy meet a man dangerous enough to frighten them both, and Lizzie reaches a breaking point.

Word Count: 6,543

Warnings: Smut, polyamory, chronic pain, references to violence, past torture, and past sexual assault.

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Chapter 2: Selfish

“Lizzie is going to be mad about that for a good long while,” Lucy commented, one hand stuffed into her trousers pocket while the other flicked ash from her cigarette down onto the cobblestones. Her eyes swiveled around, taking in the ash, flames, and glowing embers being emitted into the air by the nearby factories. All around them was the bustle of men and women going about their business, children with dirtied faces and knees marked up with scrapes and soot racing through the streets together. She dropped a few shillings into the cup of a young girl who wandered past them. 

The train station that they were headed to wasn’t particularly far, and it was good for the people to see Tommy out amongst them, walking to work and taking the train like any other ordinary working man. So when they could, they made the trek to the train on foot. 

She didn’t mind. It was nice to get out into the familiar smoky air, settled like a black cloud over most of Birmingham. Despite everything, it still felt like it was where she most belonged. In the dirt and flames of hell. 

Though it did mean that they had to keep a professional distance from each other. No hand holding or letting their sides brush and bump. They couldn’t risk looking suspiciously close. Not even in Tommy’s own kingdom of Small Heath.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed heavily. “But what else is fucking new?”

She cast him a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? You didn’t even do anything.”

“It always feels like I’m the root cause of most of her anger towards you.”

“No; you’re not.” She felt him casting her a worried look. “It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t tell him that she didn’t believe that. It would only upset him. And he didn’t need to be worrying about her feelings on top of everything else already on his plate.  

“She’s mad because you tell me things that you don’t tell her.”

“Which isn’t fucking new. That’s always how things have been. If she’s only realizing that now…”

“I think she’s more upset about it being thrown in her face than anything else.”

He shook his head, teeth grinding together. “I’m going to cuff Finn the next time I see him. Jesus Christ.”

“Arthur’s right about him needing educating. The kid can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.” As she spoke, she rolled her right shoulder back and forth, trying to ease the twinge that had settled in it. Tommy huffed. 

“Yeah. I’ll put him in charge of running the football betting at the shop. Give him something productive to do.”

“Have Isiah keep an eye on him. They’re friends, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

Tommy nodded. They caught the train just before it left the station, slipping into an empty compartment and closing the door, drawing down the blind that covered the window on the door, hiding them from any curious eyes that may have tried to peek in from the narrow hallway.

“May called earlier. She said that she was at a party that a couple other MPs were attending recently. One of them was asking about you,” Lucy settled into her seat, the train whistling shrilly before starting to move, steadily picking up speed as it pulled out from the station. 

“Oh?”

“Oswald Mosley. He’s the MP for Smethwick. Also the Minister of the Duchy of Lancaster,” she fiddled with her rings, twisting them anxiously around her fingers. “May had…a lot of bad things to say about him.” Another throb of pain rocketed from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the base of her neck, and she had to fight back a flinch. Fucking Luca. Dead and long gone, and yet still haunting her through the aches and pains that the torture he had put through had left. 

Just like Matthew, her former fiancé and the man who instigated the gang rape that left her nearly dead and fleeing to Small Heath to escape marrying him. He too lingered with her still–despite his deceased status–through the scars he and his friends had left all over her body.

I’m part of you forever, now, his and Luca’s voices, mingled into one, whispered inside her head where they now lived. 

“Lucy?” Tommy’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his hand lightly touching her arm. She jumped a little, jerking back to life, eyes wide when they met his. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry. Just thinking. What did you say?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, and she was pretty sure that he sensed the slight waver in her voice that she attempted to cover up. But he must have decided not to comment on it if he did. 

“What does Mosley want with me?” He instead repeated patiently. 

“He didn’t exactly say. But May said that he was asking an awful lot about your moral standings on things. She thought that he might’ve been trying to feel out if you would be amiable to joining the new party he’s rumored to be building.”

“The fascists, you mean?”

“Yeah.” They had been sprouting up everywhere it seemed, lately. Germany. Italy. Even in England. It was spooky. “I could do some more research into him, if you think that it would be worth it.”

Tommy considered for a moment, blue eyes glancing out the window to observe the countryside they were whizzing by. “Yes, you do that. He’s gathering information about me, it would only be fair to return the favor.”

She nodded, a hand unconsciously going up to grasp at her still aching shoulder, trying to rub away some of the pain. But she never could seem to get the right angle…

“Are your shoulders bothering you?”

She looked up to find Tommy still watching her, observant eyes zoned in on where her fingers were subtly kneading. With a sigh, she dropped her hand, rolling the aching bone and muscle back and forth with a wince. There was no use trying to lie to him. 

“A little.” 

His head cocked, pushing up with his hands off the seat he was slumped in across from her to instead settle in the space next to her. “Here.”

“Tommy…!” she immediately started to protest, eyes going panickedly to the blinds covering the window of the door leading into their compartment. 

“Don’t worry. No one will see with the blinds closed. And we’re just passing country right now,” he nodded towards the window, which sure enough was only displaying green fields and farmland. “Let me help. If you don’t do anything for them, they’ll be killing you by this evening.”

Spoken from true experience. He’d seen her when the pain got really bad, leaving her unable to sleep or do anything other than cry and writhe, as if trying to get away from the pains wracking through nearly her entire upper back. 

Slumping in defeat, she nodded, turning to angle herself with her back facing him. His large hands found her shoulders, so big they nearly swallowed the entire expanse of each one in his palms–or maybe she was just that tiny. A small sigh of relief left her lips when he began rubbing gentle but firm circles into her skin, just like how the doctor had instructed him to when explaining ways to help reduce her pain. Slowly, he started to urge the tensed up muscles to relax enough to give her some relief. 

“Did you not do your stretches yesterday?” he asked. Lucy shook her head. 

“Forgot.”

She was supposed to do them everyday, to avoid things like this happening so frequently. But in all the chaos yesterday, they’d completely slipped her mind. And sleeping on the hard earth with nothing but Tommy to use as a pillow probably hadn’t helped things.  

“Hm. Sorry; I should’ve reminded you.”

“Not your fault.”

He pressed his fingers a little harder into her skin. “How’s that feeling?”

“Better.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just try to relax.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“You want me to stop?”

“...No.”

He chuckled, the first real laugh she’d heard from him since before yesterday, and rested his cheek against her hair while his hands continued to work. Lucy allowed herself to melt a little under his touch, for a moment not worrying about them getting caught together, or about Lizzie, or Michael, or the company. She was able to just rest. Even if only for a moment. All the while Tommy gently rubbed the pain from her body.

∗ ∗ ∗  

She so did love to watch Tommy speak in the house. 

He stood there, amidst the smoke emitting from cigarettes and pipes, glasses perched on his nose, notes held in his hand, his voice ringing out, deep and rumbling. Pretty, eloquent words. He had them all in the palm of his hand and he knew it, the men seated in the benches around him, and those in the observation area with her all clinging to his every word. And when he was finished, those on his side of the room cheered and rapped their hands approvingly against the wood of their benches, the entire room thundering with the sound. 

Lucy couldn’t help but think that the room looked like a theater. 

Who were they performing for? Themselves? Each other? The people in the observation booths? All of them at once? It was hard to say. 

She spotted him seated to Tommy’s right–her left. In the row below Tommy’s, the third man in from the aisle. His dark hair was slicked back, the mustache that decorated his upper lip meticulously groomed. One side of his lips pulled up at something Tommy said, his eyes gleaming. Lucy felt a shiver go down her spine. Humor may have been what was intended to cross his face, but those eyes of his were dead. No emotion to be found in them at all. They remained focused straight ahead as Tommy spoke, except for one specific, notable moment, when they flickered towards the observational benches where she, along with some secretaries, journalists, and other observers, sat to watch the men speak. Lucy swore that for a second their eyes met, before she hastily looked away from him and back to Tommy. Her skin crawled, the fine, fair hairs on the back of her arms standing up straight. Her very insides seemed to recoil, every instinct within her screaming to get up and run as far away from that man as she could possibly get. 

She kept her eyes glued firmly at Tommy for the reminder of the time spent in the house, despite originally going there specifically to observe Mosley.

She felt that she’d gotten all the information that she needed to about what kind of person he was from just that quick glance alone. 

Soon as they were done, she stood, gathering up her notes, tucking them securely in the crook of her arm and making for the exit where she would meet Tommy out in the hall. 

“How did I do?” he asked, once he found her standing at the usual spot where she always waited for him. Lucy caught herself wishing desperately that she could have pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Splendid as always, love.”

He looked away, lips twitching up slightly, clearing his throat bashfully. “Come on.”

Lucy smiled a little to herself at the reaction, falling into step beside him, heading in the direction of their office.  

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, as they walked.

“Sort of.”

His brow raised. “Sort of?” he quoted back to her.

“I don’t like looking at him,” she explained in a lowered voice. “He makes my skin crawl.”

“Mm.” Tommy hummed in agreement. 

“Lord Suckerby’s secretary said you’re welcome to come by anytime between now and the end of the day to see him,” she told him just as they were interrupted by a voice calling his name from one of the open doors they passed.

They stopped, turned, and were met face to face with Oswald Mosley, a barbed smile sliding into place across his features as those empty eyes bored into Tommy. Lucy’s skin roiled in response to his posh, clipped voice when he spoke, introducing himself and holding out a hand for Tommy to shake. His sly smile never once ceased, eyes never leaving Tommy’s as he took his hand and shook it firmly. 

“Let me just say, you’ve come to my attention,” the words were spoken in a croon, with the smallest of head tilts. Lucy couldn’t fully decide if the intended effect was supposed to be predatory, or seductive. 

Before Tommy could reply. Mosley’s eyes had snapped, sharp and quick, like a snake striking, to fix on Lucy. She had to fight back the urge to hide behind her lover’s back. The expression on Mosley’s face turned wolfish. 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” She felt Tommy tense beside her at Mosley’s words. “Oswald Mosley,” he extended his hand towards her. Lucy felt ill at the thought of touching him, but forced herself to reach out and take his hand. It was cold as ice and dry as a bone.

“Lucy Winters,” she introduced herself, shaking Mosley’s hand once before letting it go, pushing away the urge to wipe her palm on her trousers. “I’m Mr. Shelby’s assistant.” 

Mosley’s eyes darted between them, one eyebrow quirking upwards, a smirk settling on his lips. “Hm. Lucky you, Mr. Shelby.” 

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Mosley, we have to get going.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But if you aren’t too busy, I would love the opportunity to speak with you more. Perhaps over drinks?”

Tommy considered. “You can call my office,” was all he ultimately said, hastily turning on his heel and starting down the hall again. Lucy hurried after him, not wanting to be left alone with Mosley. 

“You’re really going to meet with him?” she asked, once they were far enough away to be out of ear shot. 

“Just to hear what he has to say.” He looked over at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not sympathetic to his cause. But keep your enemies closer, eh?”

“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, half expecting Mosley to appear spontaneously behind them. “He scares me a little, Tommy.” Her voice was a rough whisper, half ashamed at the omission. 

“Me too.”

That got her attention, and when she looked at Tommy, she noticed something almost unsteady under the guarded armor he kept carefully in place across his eyes. Fear squeezed at her throat. 

A man who was bad enough to make Tommy so frightened was something she hadn’t even thought existed.

“You head on back to the office,” he said, changing the subject with a small clearing of his throat. “I think I’ll go see Lord Suckerby now.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?” He shook his head. “I think it’ll make a stronger impression if I go see him alone.”

“You think he’ll give you any trouble?”

“Maybe. Depends on how hard he was hit by the crash.”

She frowned. She hadn’t really thought about that. Though she probably should have. “Everyone was hit by the crash.”

“Yeah.”

“If Suckerby can’t pay us…”

“He will. I’m not giving him any other choice.”

She pressed her lips together in a small smile. “I’d like first crack at him, if it comes to it.”

Tommy shot her an amused look. “Oh, is that so?”

“After seeing those photos that he wanted us to get for him, there are a couple of things I’d very much like to do to him.”

During the train ride to London she had flipped through the small package of photographs, letters, and cheques that Isiah had handed off to her while they were in Birmingham. Everything he and Aberama had collected from the man they killed in Chinatown who had been using the contents of that package to blackmail Suckerby. Her stomach had roiled at the contents of some of them, bile rising.

Lord Suckerby was one disgusting man. Maybe after he paid them, an unfortunate accident could befall him. Like falling out a window or getting run over by a bus.  

Based on the thunderous, repulsed look that had crossed Tommy’s features when she showed him the photographs, Lucy thought he may very well be open to the idea. The envelope was now stashed safely in the inner pocket of her suit jacket, snug against her side. It would remain there until Suckerby paid what he owed them for their services.

“Alright,” Tommy said, eyes still dancing with fond, quiet mirth. “He doesn’t corporate, he’s all yours.”

She beamed, only just managing to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck, stretching up on toes, and planting a firm kiss to his temple that would have left his fair skin stained with red smudges from her lipstick. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said instead, adding what she hoped came across as a playful, affectionate lilt to her voice. He glanced over at her, one edge of his lips nudging upwards, eyes softening. 

They came to a hallway splitting off into two separate directions. This was where they parted ways. Her, turning left to head to their office, him, heading right, towards where Lord Suckerby’s offices were located. 

“I’ll see you soon?”

He nodded. “This won’t take long.”

“I’ll phone his office when I get in and let them know you’re coming. So they’ll be expecting you.”

“Right.”

“And then you have a few more meetings this afternoon.”

“Mm.” He lowered his voice. “I thought that we’d stay at the apartment for the night, rather than go back to Arrow House.”

“That probably would be a good idea. It’d give Lizzie some time to cool down.”

“Exactly.” 

She nodded, moving to head in the direction leading to their office. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She walked backwards a few paces, fondly watching his broad back disappear around the corner before turning and making her way the rest of the short walk back to the little corner of Parliament that they presided over. 

∗ ∗ ∗

She had not been back in the office long when Tommy returned, heavy footed steps booming against the floor and swiping his fringe from his eyes. 

“How did it go?” Lucy asked, looking up from her desk.

“By the time I left the room, he was screaming my name,” he thumbed a cigarette from his silver case. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a euphemism?”

Tommy snorted, plucking out a second cigarette to hand to her. “He only had twenty thousand to give to us.”

“Really?” That wasn’t even half of the fifty thousand pounds they’d agreed upon. She placed her cigarette between her lips and leaned forward towards the flame of his lighter when he held it up for her. “Does that mean I get to play with him now?”

Tommy chuckled, raising the lighter to his own cigarette before closing it with a click. “Easy, girl. I gave him until Monday to get us the full amount.”  

She pouted a little, leaning back into her chair. “You’re going soft, Shelby.”  

“No,” Tommy’s eyes danced amusedly. He reached out, brushing his thumb down her cheek. It was a risky move, since anyone could walk through the door at any moment, but she didn’t pull her face away from the tender touch. “I just want my fifty thousand pounds.”

“Mm. Whatever you say, love.”

His thumb inched into dangerous territory, ghosting over her bottom lip. She aimed a playful nip at it, and he drew his hand back with a grin. 

“Cheeky mare.”

Lucy smiled at him, batting her eyelashes innocently in an ‘I’m-very-sure-I-don’t-know-what-you-mean’ kind of way. Though remnants of his smile lingered on his face and his eyes remained softened fondly, Tommy’s expression turned serious again.  

“Hey, make that research into Mosley top priority, yeah? I wanna be ready when I next see him.”

“Yes, boss.” She gave him a little two finger salute. The corner of his lips kicked up again.

“Thank you.” 

She watched him head through the double doors into his office, leaving them open behind him, a silent invitation for her to come keep him company if she wanted. Gathering up some of her papers, she rose from her chair to follow him. 

It was, after all, an invitation that she never passed up. 

∗ ∗ ∗  

It was dark by the time they started to pack up to leave for the day. Tommy had one final appointment, but Lucy figured she would get a head start on closing the office up while he spoke with the journalist from the London Times. She eyed Michael Levitt as Adam–Tommy’s other secretary at Westminster–led him into Tommy’s office, noting the nervous way that the journalist  kept fidgeting with his hat while he waited. A moment later, Adam came back out, casting an anxious look over his shoulder to where Levitt had taken a seat in front of Tommy’s desk. 

“Mr. Shelby said I was to go home,” he came over to her desk, keeping his voice lowered. She nodded.

“Then go home. I’ll take care of locking everything up.”

“Right.” 

She watched him gather up his things and head for the door, one ear focused on trying to overhear the mumbled voices of Tommy and Levitt. “See you tomorrow,” she told Adam.

“Goodnight,” he nodded. Soon as he was gone, she stood smoothly, snatching up the little journal perched on the corner of her desk and going to Tommy’s office. He had left the doors open, so she was able to slip in without so much as a sound, footsteps muffled against the rugs lining the floor. 

Levitt was visibly sweating, stuttering over his words. Lucy raised an eyebrow, going to where Tommy’s coat was hung up to his right behind his desk. She slipped the journal into the pocket, giving it a tap twice, watching out of the corner of her eye how Tommy’s gaze followed her. He gave a barely indiscernible nod in acknowledgement, and she spun on her heel and left the room, letting her eyes meet the timid Levitt’s for a second before turning her head away. 

She flitted around her and Adam’s office, putting things away and locking them up for safe keeping, even doing some tidying. The whole time, she listened closely to the words being murmured between Tommy and the journalist. At one point, not long before Levitt rushed from the room, she heard Tommy quoting directly from some of the notes she had written in the little journal during her time spent researching Levitt and his activities. 

Soon as he was gone, she locked the door behind him and went back to Tommy’s office. 

“I take it that could have gone better?” she moved to stand on his side of the desk, arms folded over her chest and back leaning against the hard wooden edge. Her head cocked as she watched him rub at his eyes. 

“He was asking about Campbell and Polly.”

“I heard. You want him to be taken care of?”

Tommy wetted his lips, considering. “Yes,” he decided. “Last thing we need is a reporter sniffing around.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem like the type that we could just pay off. I’ll have some of our boys handle it at his apartment in Maida Vale. Quick and clean.” 

“Have them do it with enough flourish that it’ll make other journalists nervous. To dissuade anyone else from trying anything for a while.”

“But not easily linked to us, right?”

“Right. And let’s just keep it between you and me. Last thing I need is more temper tantrums over my not sharing information.”

“Okay.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, reaching out to smooth his hand up and down her thigh. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His arms looped around her, and she laughed quietly when he pulled her closer, his head tipping back to stare up at her, blue eyes wide and mischievous. 

“Adam went home?”

“Yes.”

“Hm…so it’s just us, then?”

Her fingers smoothed through his dark hair, fighting back a smirk. “Yes, it’s just us.”

With a purring sound from low in the back of his throat, he took hold of her hips and pulled her closer. 

“Tommy!” She laughed as he maneuvered her into his lap, as if this was not something they had done dozens of times before. As if she had not let him fuck her on top of his big desk the very first day they spent in the new office, her face burying in his shoulder with her teeth sinking into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to try to keep herself quiet while his cock pounded into her. 

He pushed open her suit jacket, popping free the first two buttons on her shirt and dipping his head to press his lips to the newly exposed skin. Wriggling in his lap, Lucy hissed at the feeling of his cock already hardening in his trousers, the material bulging against her. 

Tangling her hands in his hair, she tipped his head back enough to kiss him, moaning softly as his hands smoothed up her thighs, urging her to rock against him and fumbling with her belt. It was late, most people working in the building would have already gone home for the evening. But they still needed to be quiet. 

“Mm, did you lock the door?” Tommy asked in a low, rough murmur that went straight to her cunt, walls fluttering around nothing. The things he could do to her with just his voice alone were downright sinful. 

“Yes.”

He made a noise of approval that turned her legs to jelly. “Good,” he lifted her from his lap for a microsecond to slip her loosened trousers and knickers down, hand burning hot where it slid up her exposed thigh. “Always such a good girl for me.”

“A-ah…” her head lolled back, eyes rolling both at the praise and the first brush of his thick fingers across her entrance, circling lazily around her clit. 

“Gotta keep quiet, now,” he continued to mumble in her ear, breath warm where it fanned against her cheek. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded vigorously. That was all she wanted; to be good for him. To make him happy. 

Turning his head, Tommy pressed a kiss to her temple and gingerly slipped one finger into her while his thumb occupied itself with rolling over her clit. He kept his movements careful and slow until he got her more warmed up, waiting until slickness coated his hand generously before adding a second finger and increasing the pace of his pumps. 

“There you go,” he hummed when he felt her start to flutter around him. “There you go, that’s a good girl…”

“Tom…” she whimpered, biting her lip to try to keep herself quiet, not wanting to disappoint him by letting any sounds slip out to be heard beyond this room.

“I know,” he soothed. “That’s my girl. Bite down on my shoulder if you need to.”

She did just that, nosing the material of his clothing aside to taste his bare skin between her lips. Tommy groaned, low and quiet but impossibly deep, at the first sting of her teeth against him. Her walls tightened, moments away from bursting. His fingers curled within her, pressing right into the spot that made her see stars.  

“Let go,” he ordered in a sweet whisper aimed directly into her ear, and she bit down hard to try to hinder what would have been an incredibly loud moan as her orgasm wrecked through her like a firecracker, bright lights exploding behind her eyes, entire body shuddering with it, pressing close to him instinctively.  

Tommy guided her through it, slowly coaxing her down from her high until she slumped against him.

“Good. Very good, sweetheart.”

She made a happy little noise at the praise, snuggling closer to his neck, nuzzling at the bitemark she’d left on him. Tommy stroked the back of her head, kissing her hair. Sneakily, she snaked a hand down between their bodies to palm the bulge in his trousers, and it was his turn to try to stifle his noises of pleasure, teeth locking down tight around the groan rising from his throat. 

Arms wrapping around her, he lifted her seemingly effortlessly off of his lap, setting her down on the edge of his desk while he stood, hands dropping down to fumble with his trousers. Lucy felt her mouth water at the sight of his long, impossibly thick erection bobbing against his stomach after being released from its confines. Tommy gave himself a few good, languid strokes, jaw dropping open as his eyelashes fluttered, face inches from hers. Lucy spread her legs wider, encouraging him in between them. Her hands grabbed at handfuls of his suit jacket while he lined himself up, sliding in with one deep thrust. 

“Oh,” Tommy rested his cheek against hers, hands flexing where they landed on her hip and thigh. 

“Quiet, remember?” she teased slightly, trailing her fingertips through his hair. He shivered, letting out a breathless chuckle followed by a kiss to her cheek. Burying his face in her neck, hands bracing on her body, he started to move. She could tell that he was trying to start out slow and give her time to adjust to his considerable size, but all it took was her purposefully squeezing around his cock and wrapping her legs around his waist, and his efforts went up in smoke. 

He bucked into her like a man possessed, low grunts muffled against her throat, a few trinkets rattling on the desk from the force of his thrusts. Lucy tucked her face back in against his shoulder, biting down hard on her bottom lip to try to contain her whimpers and moans as his swollen tip rubbed right up against her g-spot with each roll of his hips. 

“Shit. Squeezing me so tight, love,” Tommy rasped out, hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. “Give me another one, yeah? I know you can, sweetheart.”

“Mm…” Her back arched, pressing her clothed breasts into his chest. Her legs tightened around him, and her jaw clenched with the effort it was taking for her not to let the volume of her noises get too high. His cock twitched and throbbed inside her, in the way that she knew meant his orgasm was imminent. The pleasure built like steam rising in a kettle, tension mounting until she felt moments away from bursting. Her walls spasmed uncontrollably around him, as if wanting to keep him locked in place within her for all eternity. Tommy hitched her thigh up a little higher on his hip, allowing his cock to get just that much deeper into her, and applied more pressure to her clit with his thumb. 

She came at the same moment that she managed to grab his face and bring his mouth crashing down onto hers, each of them swallowing what would have been massive moans as they both came fantastically. Her walls clamped down around him, insides fluttering with the force with which she came. Tommy’s chest vibrated under her palms with his growl as he finished, grinding his tip in as deep as he could go while spurting jets of seed into her. 

Lucy released a blissful sigh, closing her eyes and riding out the waves of her climax while basking in the feeling of him spilling his load into her. 

Tommy slumped forwards against her, face nestling in the crook of her shoulder, lips pressing to her neck delicately whilst he relaxed. His arms wound around her in a warm embrace, a quiet purr leaving his chest when she stroked the back of his head. 

“We should go,” Lucy finally broke the silence that had stretched on between them. Tommy nodded, shifting to carefully pull out of her, tucking himself back into his trousers and straightening out his clothes. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket for her to use to clean the mix of their releases from her thighs, then let her hold onto his shoulders when she hopped off the edge of the desk and regained her balance. 

“Have you got everything locked up?” he asked as she pulled her slacks back up.

“Yeah, just gotta grab a few things from my desk to take with us.”

“Good. I wanna get out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Tommy Shelby eager to leave work? Is there a special occasion I’m not aware of?”

He rolled his eyes, giving her hip a light pinch. “No occasion.” He swiped a few locks of hair off of her forehead and cradled the back of her neck, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips while his eyes looked her up and down. There was something heated in them that made her thighs squeeze together. “Except that I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“You know, Frances, if there were to be a snap election in this house today, I wouldn’t win it. Even if I were running against the devil himself,” Tommy remarked to their housekeeper once they’d gotten home. Frances shot him a sympathetic look. 

“I’d still vote for you,” Lucy offered. Tommy gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, love.”

He went off to go talk to Charlie where he was sulking in the stables while Lucy ventured upstairs, wandering through the winding hallways until she heard the hum of Lizzie and Ruby’s voices. Coming to a halt in the doorway of Ruby’s room, she watched them where they were seated together in the rocking chair by the window, Ruby in Lizzie’s lap, head resting on her mother’s chest while Lizzie read to her from a book. 

“Hi, Lucy!” Ruby said when she spotted her. Lucy smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Is Daddy with you?”

“He’s down at the stables.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping off Lizzie’s lap and racing for the door.

“Ruby, what have I told you about running in the house!?” Lizzie shouted after her, but the little girl was already long gone. Lizzie rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head and closing the book. As Lucy watched her stand to put it away on a shelf, she noticed Ruby’s suitcase laid out on the bed, half filled with clothes. 

“Going somewhere?”

Lizzie sighed, glancing over at the suitcase, then back at Lucy. “I’m taking Ruby to Arthur’s.”

Lucy stared at her. “Why?”

Lizzie’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “Because, I realized this afternoon that I’d rather swallow horse shit than sit down and eat dinner with you and him.” She began to zip up Ruby’s luggage. “I need to get away. From both of you. At least for a while.”

“You could have phoned and we would’ve stayed at the apartment in London like we did last night if you really don’t want us here this weekend.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be for just one weekend.”

Lucy straightened. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie didn't reply. 

“You cannot be serious. Now, Lizzie? You want to toy around with the idea of splitting up with your husband now? Of all fucking times?”

“He made me look like an idiot at the family meeting!” Lizzie burst out, head lifting and tears in her eyes. “Everyone else knew about the bloody hit in Chinatown except for me! I am his wife! I should be informed of these things first! Especially before you!” The way that she spat out that last word, so full of hate and disgust, made Lucy flinch.  

“For fuck’s sake, Lizzie! There’s a lot of shit here that you are more than justified in being unhappy about, but this? Really? This is where you draw the line?” A humorless laugh left her lips. “I hate to break it to you, but him not telling you things is a normal occurrence. Ada didn’t know about what was happening in Chinatown either.” 

Lizzie looked away, irritably picking up a stuffed animal off of Ruby’s bed. Lucy took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was much calmer. 

“This is not worth throwing a bloody temper tantrum over, Lizzie.”

“I’m tired of being disrespected,” she lifted her head. “I’m his wife, and he needs to start treating him as such.”

Lucy groaned, raising her palms to her face, fighting back the urge to scream into them. “Just once, could you knock it off with the attitude?”

“Easy for you to say, when you always get everything that you want–”

“Oh, do I, now?” Lucy rounded on her. “You think that this,” she gestured vaguely, “is what I want? To have to share him with a woman who openly hates me?”

“I don’t hate you–”

But Lucy talked right over her. “To have to live with the constant worry that you might push me out or he might change his mind and throw me out on the street? That it could happen like that,” she snapped her fingers. “And I could lose everything? Do you think that I wanted to live with that dangling over my head at all hours of the day, Lizzie?” She met the taller woman’s stormy eyes levelly. “We’re all getting a shit deal out of this, so stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, and make the best of it,” she moved to the door. 

“You are so fucking selfish, you know that!?” Lizzie shrieked after her, finally fully exploding. “You sap up all his love for yourself and leave nothing for the rest of us! You don’t care that him spending time with you means he’s not here with his family! Those children,” she pointed towards the window that looked out to the stables, “deserve a father who prioritizes them over running after his fucking mistress.”

“Don’t you dare try to use the kids–”

“Well, somebody in this household has to advocate for them!”

“Don’t act like you aren’t just using them as a way to try to get what you want.”

Lizzie’s lips slammed into a thin line. “I’m going. And I’m taking Ruby with me.”

“But not Charlie?” Lucy challenged. 

“If I thought that I could take him without Tommy tearing me apart over it, I would,” Lizzie’s voice had suddenly grown very quiet. “I’d take the two of them far away from you both and never look back.”

Lucy shook her head, exhausted. “He’s not that bad, Lizzie. Compared to what he could be? He’s not that bad at all. He doesn’t hit you. He loves those kids…” she could see from the expression of stone on Lizzie’s face that none of her words would be able to reach her, and yet she tried anyway. “He’s got so much to deal with right now. Please don’t make it worse for him.”

Lizzie continued to just stare at her with a look of both extreme sorrow and loathing, and then she picked up Ruby’s suitcase and shouldered past her without another word.

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[noorpersona]

Husbandry: Miya Atsumu

Atsumu had absolutely no qualms with his life at the moment. In fear of jinxing it, he could say it was damn near perfect. He had accomplished his professional dream, being on Japan's Olympic Volleyball team, alongside teammates who have known and played with almost half his life. The people he considered to be the highest of the high. To make things better, he had you by his side, the greatest gift he's ever gotten (He'd tell you but you'd laugh at him for being too cheesy). You two had quite the blissful marriage, and with finding out a few weeks ago that you were pregnant with twins, he couldn't be happier with you.

Atsumu had been checking his hair out in the bathroom, prepping it for a luncheon he, and subsequently you, were invited to by the Japan Volleyball Association.

"Fuck!"

Atsumu hears you shriek out of frustration from the other room. He jumps almost immediately, rushing in to see what was causing you alarm. Whipping around the door frame, arms up to defend his wife, his adrenaline dissipates as he finds you in front of your vanity mirror struggling to zip up what was your favourite dress, but has recently become your most hated. Your bump stretched the dress, making it hard for the ends to come around let alone the zipper. Your face is red with effort, and with a lot of emotion swirling in your eyes. "Hey, hey, you okay?" He calls out your name softly, which usually made you calmer, but in this mood, your temper only flared. So of course, you begin to cry. "No, I'm not okay! I wanted to wear this dress and it doesn't fit! Nothing fits me, and I've gotten fat!" You break, spilling your guts as well as your tears, letting the tension break away from you. Immediately, Astumu is at your side, hugging you and allowing you to bury your face in his chest. He rubs your back in a soothing motion, trying to get you to calm down. "Babe, who on earth said you're fat? You're pregnant." He gave you a squeeze, talking gently in your ear, but you shook your head. "But I got so big so fast!" You were whining now, and while Atsumu knew you were genuinely upset, he couldn't help but smile. Still, he gave you a reassuring kiss on your head. "Well yeah, there's two of em' in there." His hands went from your back to your swollen stomach, "They need room to grow." And you groan, being dramatic. "But what if at the party they think I'm fat?" You ramble, clutching Atsumu's steamed shirt. Your husband stutters, trying to think of the right answer. "I'll... Make sure to let everyone know we're pregnant?" "What?! I don't want people to know we're doing it!" Atsumu gives you a look of pure confusion. Atsumu blinked at you, his lips slightly parted in disbelief. "Sweetheart," he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "you do know that's how babies happen, right? I mean, it ain't exactly a secret how we got here."

You groaned, your cheeks heating up. "I know that! But still, I don’t want them thinking about it. It's embarrassing!"

He couldn't help it—he laughed. A real, loud, genuine laugh that shook his shoulders and made his head tilt back. His amusement was contagious, and despite your earlier frustration, you felt your lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

"You’re somethin’ else, you know that?" Atsumu said, grinning as he wiped the corner of his eye. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head again, his hands gently squeezing your waist. "But if you don’t want people thinking about it, fine. I won’t say a word. But listen here—if anyone tries to say somethin' stupid about you tonight, I’ll let 'em know exactly how proud I am of you. No one messes with my wife."

You sniffled, swiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. "You promise?"

"Cross my heart, darlin’." He tilted your chin up with his thumb, meeting your watery gaze. "And for the record, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t you dare let that dress or anyone at that party tell you otherwise. Got it?"

"But what if—"

"No 'what ifs.'" Atsumu cut you off gently but firmly, resting his forehead against yours. "You’re not just my wife; you’re also the woman growin’ two babies, and if that ain’t somethin’ amazing, I dunno what is. So wear somethin’ that makes you feel comfy, and we’ll go in there and show everyone how perfect ya are—bump, dress, and all."

You sighed, leaning into him. "You always know what to say, don’t you?"

He smirked. "Nah, sometimes I wing it and hope for the best. But I’m glad this worked."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension finally easing from your body. Atsumu, satisfied with your soft giggle, gave you another quick kiss before pulling back and gently guiding you to sit down on the bed.

"Stay put. I’ll pick you somethin’ else," he said, already heading to the closet.

"Wait, you’re picking my outfit?" You raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. "Trust me, babe. I got this."

You weren’t entirely sure you did trust him, but the way he moved so determinedly between your closet and the mirror made you feel a little lighter. Besides, how could you not feel cared for when your husband was doing everything in his power to make sure you felt confident and loved?

Minutes later, Atsumu returned holding a simple but elegant dress you hadn’t worn in years. It was loose enough to accommodate your bump but still flattering in all the right ways. "Try this," he said, holding it up proudly.

You stood and slipped it on, and to your surprise, it fit perfectly. When you turned to face the mirror, Atsumu’s reflection was beaming behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"See? Told ya I got good taste," he said, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Thanks, 'Tsumu."

"Anytime," he murmured, his voice soft and full of love.

As you both got ready to leave for the luncheon, Atsumu leaned in one last time, his hand resting protectively over your belly. "Y’know," he whispered, "they’re real lucky to have you as their mom."

You smiled, your earlier worries completely forgotten. "And they’re lucky to have you as their dad."

With that, you headed out together, feeling lighter than you had all day.

[user1smvtysturniolo]

After Cigarretes | Matt Sturniolo

Pairing: dom!Matt x slightly.high!reader

Summary: this night you were totally fucked up after a party, so you called your boyfriend Matt to pick you up, but you didn’t want to go home yet. So you guys went out and smoke a cigarrete together in the forest at night, while walking and talking. Eventually, you found yourself teasing him and...

Trigger Warning: smut, dom!Matt, unprotected sex, pet names, rough sex, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), nipple sucking, p in v, cockwarming

I went to a party that night and I got high, I called Matt so he could pick me up and leave. He told me to go home because it was midnight, but I didn't want to, so he told me we could go take a walk on the forest together.

We walked while we smoked some cigarretes, we wanted to take a break so we sit in front of the river, we started talking about some stuff. And I couldn't help myself but feel attracted to Matt, so to try and get some of his attention. I took off my jacket and I was left with my tight top, and my mini skirt being more visible I noticed him staring "You like what you see?" I playfully said. He tried to ignore what I said and he rolled his eyes because he knew I wasn't sober and I was just saying stupid things so he tried to ignore my temptations. Minutes went by, we talked and I suddenly felt the urge of making him feel jealous. Because I knew he wanted something else with me. So I started talking about how a guy approached me at the bar. His expressions darkened and his eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, so now we're playing this game, huh?" He said. I acted like I didn't know that I was provoking him, I actually love when he gets so possesive and dominative.

"Baby, I dont know what you're talking about. He just thought I was sexy and he started flirting with me..." I was trying to sound naive and innocent, but I knew that he was boiling from jealousy. "Oh, I'm done with this." He said and then quickly put me in this lap. "You wanna play with me? All right, you're playing with fire" He put his thumb in my lower lip, and looked at me in the eyes. "You're mine, okay?" he said in possesive tone. "Who do you belong with? Baby." He said as he put his finger deeper in my tongue. I already knew what I had to say, he was indicating me what to say with his eyes and the possesiveness he was transmitting. "With you, Matt. I'm all yours". The tension between us was raising, so he removed his finger and put his grip on my waist and decided to kiss me finally. "I want you whimpering this while I fuck you right in front of this river. Got it?" His words made me be even more turned on, I couldn't even form words so I nodded.

There was a picnic table next to us so he wasted no time on grabbing me and quickly laying me down on the picnic table. He started to kiss my neck so bad it left me hickeys, he removed my shirt and bra to get more of me and he groaned when he saw my hard nipples. He started to play with my nipples with his fingers, I moaned while my puppy eyes looked down at him, begging for more. "Now you're not all teaser, huh?" He said as he pinched my nipple and then started sucking hard on it. I bite my lip hard, holding in my whimpers at the sudden suck. "Matt, please. I need more" I said as I gripped hard on his hair. "What do you want?" He said, even though he knew damn well what I needed. Because just as he said that, he smirked and one of his hand slid down my skirt, one of his fingers touching my panties, he groaned when he felt the wet patch on my clothed pussy

"Matt... I'm yours. Now fuck me". He finally grinned, hearing the sentence he most wanted "That's it babe..." He stopped playing with my nipples and removed my skirt, and being playful. He opened my thighs up and started kissing my inner thighs, teasing me even more. He was kissing them, biting them, sucking them. I didn't know what to expect and everytime he did one of those, his nose touched my clothed clit. Which left me a whimpering mess, begging for him. He finally saw me completely at his mercy, so he removed my panties and licked his lips when he saw my glistening pussy. He put two fingers slightly on my wet folds "fffuck" he cursed to himself "your so wet, I just wanna fuck you now." He said "please do." I moaned "no baby, you were a naughty girl teasing me there, now you gotta wait to get ur release" I whimpered In response

He started to put his fingers in and out, first he was sloppy with it and cat licked my clit. But then he got deeper and deeper in my pussy. He started sucking harder on my clit at the same time his fingers got in and out. Which made me grip his hair tighter with every suck. I shut my eyes tight and my head throwed back at this point, I couldn't handle it. "I'm-... God, I'm gonna cum." I managed to barely moan out, breathless. "Wait, baby. You can take it. Shh, look at my eyes when I finger fuck you" he said as he slowed down his pace and his blue eyes looked straight into mine when I managed to look down. "Good girl, now you're gonna get it".

He said as he quickly removed his belt. I could see his hardening bulge through his pants, he finally removed his boxer with the pants and I gasped when I saw it. "Please" I moaned out murmuring. He gave it a few pumps and then positioned himself in me. I shut my eyes in response. He started thrusting, first it was sloppy and slow, but as time went by it was more needy and got more rough and fast and we both were reaching the edge "cum with me, come on" his voice raspy, on the edge. Then as he felt my pussy clenching in his cock he couldn't help but cum with me.

When we both calmed down from our high, and turned me around and sit down on the picnic table and put me on top of him, with his cock still in me. "God, I can't get enough of you" he started kissing my neck "you're not pulling out?" I asked, secretly loving being with him like this. "Not for now" he murmured against my ear, biting on my earlobe

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

My first smut story, repost and like if you like it. Ask me requests and I'll try to do a story like that, if you want to be on my tag list for next smut story, comment. 😁

[andre-and-cal]

me when I want some.........pup headcanons....STOPP it can BE SO SHORT or actual request what would caldre do on a date heh.......

Finally getting to overdue requests !! ^_^

Also uh my headcanons r too long so I’ll try to make them shorter from now on so they’re easier to read HELP SORRY I be #yapping too much

Andre and Cal on a date,,

Most of the time, they don’t really call it a date— they don’t even acknowledge their relationship as dating. They say they love each other, call each other affectionate names in private, but they never made it official that they are a thing, even though they behave how couples do. They kiss, cuddle, fuck, do stuff together, argue, fight…

When they do say “date”, it’s mainly Cal who brings up if Andre wants to “go on a date” with him. However, they tend to prefer directly asking each other to go somewhere private. Especially Andre.

Admittedly, toward the beginning of their romantic companionship, they both felt too insecure about bringing up going on “dates” with each other. So eventually, Cal was the first one to ask Andre straight-up, having to fight back against his social apprehension. To which, Andre accepted. He generally is always up to going on tender outings with Cal unless his parents or cousin need him for something at that time.

Now, Andre no longer feels as awkward as he did before. A lot of the times he just expects Cal to bring up going out together. He’s a pretty laid back guy when it comes to that, not minding whenever Cal requests it, as long as it isn’t on one of their mission days. As a result, Cal is usually the one to initiate plans for outings together. In a way, it’s kind of like a routine.

Andre and Cal nearly always go to quiet places. They prefer less chaotic, more undisturbed atmospheres, mostly because they both get annoyed when too many people are around them or crowding them, so they don’t attend concerts too often. They aren’t very fond of parties either, but will go under difference circumstances. Not that they’d be invited to their classmates’ parties anyway.

Generally, Andre and Cal like to go out to the movies together. But they don’t kiss during the movie. Instead, they laugh at different scenes together, especially if it’s some campy, low-budget horror movie. Cal occasionally tries to sneak edibles into the movie theater, but Andre always makes him put it away, quietly scolding him about his carelessness toward getting high in public. During the movie, Andre tends to pat Cal’s thigh or knee, and Cal likes to place his hand over Andre’s hand or knee— even lean his head on his shoulder. You best believe they’re sharing a big bag of popcorn or candy, too.

Sometimes they’ll hang around at empty parking lots as well. Despite the blatantly unsettling vibes present with the dim streetlights being the only sources of light in the parking lot, with both boys being aware that the setting is like “something straight out of a horror movie”, the melancholic solitude of the late-night vacant buildings still draws the two in. However, Andre and Cal refuse to get out of Andre’s car, since he carries pocket knives in his car’s front compartment just in case LMAO. They’ll sit and get comfortable, maybe talk for a while, with their hands tightly locked together.

They’ll even just drive around town in Andre’s car aimlessly, listening to music on the radio and getting some snacks and slushies at the gas station, so their tongues will be purple by the end of the night. ;3

And they also like to head to the CD store to both seriously purchase music, and individually— yet jokingly— get pornographic movies. It was Cal’s idea initially, and now it became kind of like a stupid “game” where they both gauge each other’s reactions when they put it on.

Andre and Cal do enjoy spending time together when they can. I think it’s also worth mentioning that they leave their camcorder behind, so that they can stay in the moment, essentially. Their outings can serve as simple— yet temporary— distractions from their Zero Day plans.

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

[bubybubsters]

Fruit Skewers, Laced Drinks, and the Whole Shabang

A/n: @tsunami-of-tears I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA!! ik crazy right! Anyway here’s your mix of angst, a lil bit of fun, and vague holiday spirit! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT LOL but it fine if u dont…

MERRY CHRISTMASSS or HAPPY SOLSTICE.

thank you @acotargiftexchange for hosting this lovely event.

word count: 2.1k

Eris POV

Most people don’t think of the spymaster of the Night Court as an avoidant person. In fact, when people do think of him it’s often when they’re committing a crime or sitting in shadows that look like they’re moving, or even seeing him on the street and finding him pretty.

Well Eris found the spymaster to be a very avoidant male. Yes, he was good looking and smart and the whole package. But Eris found he sucked and communicating. Not even in the normal way people sucked at communicating, in a way that he didn’t even try to talk about anything. All the spymaster did was kiss Eris’s weak spot until the heir gave in and stopped trying to make a half-decent conversation. 

Then again, Eris supposed one could defend Azriel’s actions. Considering their families, their past, the rejection of same sex relationships in the Autumn court, Beron, Morrigan, and every other little detail. 

However, none of that changed what had happened a few years ago at the solstice court meeting. The two of them had had a little too much to drink and got a little carried away. The night had ended with Azriel in Eris’s bed and the morning after the cold air from a very open balcony window had greeted Eris the moment he woke up. 

And still, a decade later, they hadn’t said a word about it. What they had done was fuck so much that Eris had found more new kinks he didn’t know about in ten years than he’d found in a century.

“What in the cauldren has you sighing every few seconds?” Eris blinked, his mother’s voice pulling him from his thoughts. Shit, he was still in the dining room eating dinner with his mother. Well, she was eating; his food was untouched.

“Sorry.” 

“What’s up with you?”

“Noth-.” He was cut off by a single raised brow that spoke volumes. “It's a romantic problem…”

His mother smiled. “With the shadowsinger, yes?”

Eris grunted in confirmation, choosing to not question how she knew about his so-called “relationship.”

“What’s wrong? Obvious problems excluded, of course.” Her words dragged a bitter smile to his lips as he thought of what he should say. He could tell her the truth and simultaneously put her in danger if anyone found out. Or he could lie. The fact that the choice he made came so easily concerned him to no end.

“He won’t talk unless it relates to court problems. All he wants to do when we’re alone is have sex.”

His mother grinned. “I never thought I’d see the day you complained about too much sex. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Eris grumbled something unintelligible and rolled his eyes.

“In all seriousness, find a time and place to talk. One where it’s too public to do anything but it’s just private enough to have a conversation. Also you need a reason he can’t leave. For example, if Rhysand assigned him to stay by your side and make sure you don’t do anything stupid. The best chance you’ll get to do this is at the annual solstice high lord meeting. Since everyone knows Beron won’t want to come considering it’s basically just a party… You’ll have to go in his stead and someone from each court will likely be watching you because nobody trusts the autumn court.“

Eris raised his hand, trying to stop the flow of information. “Perhaps, write it down?”

His mother chuckled. “Y’know I’m actually preparing you for your high lord duties. You really can’t be seen taking notes during a high lord meeting; it shows weakness.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Stop teasing, we both know Beron doesn’t remember shit. He just does whatever he wants.”

“Yes, but you wish to be a better High Lord than him. Can’t do that if you copy him.”

“Well since I’ll be such a better high lord than Beron, it won’t be considered weak to take notes.”

His mother shook her head, a smile dancing on her lips.“I’ll write it down, but you just need to trust yourself.”

Eris said nothing. He knew he couldn’t trust himself around Azriel. It always led to him giving into the spymaster’s whim.

Az POV

“OY AZRIELLL!!”

He barely refrained from groaning as Cassian pulled the curtains aside and sunlight came streaming in.

“Go away.”

“BUT TODAY’S THE PARTYYYY!! YOU AGREED TO LET FEYRE, NESTA, AND ELAIN DRESS YOU UP IF YOU LOST AT CHESS. AND YOU LOSTTTTT!!”

“Because you all cheated.”

“You never said we couldn’t!” Cassian is practically singing as he dances around Azriel’s bed, trying to prod him awake.

Azriel groaned. “I’ll be up in 30. Now get out.”

Cassian pouted but ultimately decided to leave before Azriel could change his mind and argue that he would have won if they hadn’t fed him too many bottles of Rhysand’s expensive wine and cheated. 

Fifteen minutes later, Azriel warily dragged himself from bed. Normally, he would be fine, in fact he could be a morning bird. But all the wine he’d drank last night seemed to have caused a pounding headache that he doubted would get better.

He took a quick shower and dressed in casual black clothes before heading out. On his way to the River House he grabbed a pastry and jumped off a random balcony.

Letting himself freefall, Azriel’s thoughts wandered to forbidden territory. Eris would be at the party tonight. The fireling’s scent was ingrained in Azriel’s mind- smoke and crisp autumn leaves. 

Azriel sighed. He knew Eris wanted to talk, it was devastatingly obvious. The hurt that flashed in those amber eyes whenever Azriel brushed him off seemed an ever prominent companion in his day to day life. But it just wouldn’t work. Eris was going to be High Lord and Azriel was… well Azriel.

“He’s here!”

His high lady’s voice floated through the air, effectively cutting his thoughts short. He landed and glowered at Cassian.

“The party is at 8 in the evening.”

“Yes and?”

“It does not take twelve hours to get me ready.

Feyre cut in, “Of course it doesn’t. But do you really think we have things prepared? This bet was last minute and made drunkenly at around two am.”

“All the more reason we should agree to not do it.”

“Nope! Just an excuse to go shopping.”

Azriel groaned but a slight smile played on his lips, maybe he could use this distraction from Eris.

Eris POV

At precisely 8pm Eris and his advisors winnowed to the dawn court. Ever since that High Lord meeting during the war, the dawn court had been all the high lords preferred spot to meet. Eris wasn’t sure why but it was fine with him, just as long as nobody was in his court. 

They were greeted by a female that showed them to a dimly lit ballroom. Most of the other High Lord’s were already mingling and Eris spotted Vivian, Mor and Feyre. Azriel’s probably here then. Good.

Eris sighed, dismissing his advisors and heading for the food table. Picking up a skewer of grapefruit and some unidentified berries, Eris dove in. One could argue the only reason he came to these parties was for the food. More often than not, his first thought was complaining about the autumn court food. It wasn’t bad, in fact, Eris loved the spices and bold flavors, but after a few centuries, you occasionally long for something else.

Something refreshing. 

A light touch to his thigh urged him to pause his munching and look down. One if Azriel’s shadows was curled around his leg, seemingly looking up at him with puppy eyes. 

Eris suppressed a smile and looked around to find the shadowsinger already watching him from a dark corner. He did a double take, blinking in disbelief at what he saw. Azriel, the feared spymaster of the night court was wearing a light blue t-shirt and loose, frilly, white pants. And he looked good. Eris hesitated, grabbed another fruit skewer and headed his way.

“Fireling,” Azriel greeted, plucking the extra fruit skewer from his hand.

Eris made a sound of protest, mouth stuffed with food. “Was mine.” 

“You look like a toddler given access to his favorite candy store at these parties.”

Eris frowned, waving his hand, trying to get his rebuttal across without opening his mouth.

Azriel chuckled, biting into the stolen skewer. He groaned in satisfaction, gobbling down the rest of the skewer before Eris could finish his.

“What in the world are you wearing?”

“It was a bet.” Azriel waved his stick where fruit was seconds before. “These are good.”

“Did all that food just disappear?”

“It was good.”

“You’ve never had them before? These parties have been going on for a decade.”

“I’m usually too distracted by you.”

Eris chokes on his last piece of fruit. “Huh?”

Azriels lips twitched, “That wasn’t very heir like.” He tutts, wagging a finger. “The rumors seem to be true, you’re gonna be overthrown by a brother.”

Eris raises a brow. “Firstly, you cannot be talking, have you seen yourself in those clothes? Besides wouldn’t you miss me, beloved spymaster of the feared Night Court?” He leaned closer, lips almost brushing Azriel’s ear. “After all, you do seem to have taken a particular liking to me. Or shall I say, a liking to fu-”

Azriel clamped a hand over his mouth. “Not here,” he hisses.

“Where else then?” Eris sticks his tongue out, liking the scarred hand covering his mouth. “All you wanna do is fuck whenever we’re alone. So why not speak here? Your shadows can ensure nobody hears us.”

Azriel frowns. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Eris raises a brow as if to say, do tell. “We should stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s never going to work out and we don’t seem to have any special connection. It’s also a hassle since we’re from different courts and it really would be convenient for both of us if we stopped. Besides, if you really need pleasure that badly, there are some wonderful places across Prythian that could serve one’s needs.

Eris gawked at Azriel. His jaw was practically on the floor in shock and his body had gone slack. Azriel, the guy who never talked and always convinced Eris to fuck was the one calling off this ‘situantionship.’ Adding that the one time he did talk was to inform Eris of good pleasure houses. Well, sorry mother, guess you wrote that down for nothing.

“Right, like you weren’t the one practically leaping on me every time. But by all means, go ahead, end us. It’s not like anyone else will ever understand you like I do. And of course we aren’t mates because why would the mother put someone like you with someone like me.” Eris finishes his last sentence off with a growl, teeth bared.

Azriel’s brows twitch, “What is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for a future High Lord?”

Eris shakes his head, attempting to stop the sudden feeling of emptiness in his heart. He turned form the male and his bright clothes.

“Whatever Azriel. I’m done with you.”

Az POV

Okay, so he might have messed up. He’d basically called Eris not special and not worth the hassle. He’d also said he knew a lot of good pleasure houses, which wasn’t a lie, he did. But the male he’d been fucking for the past decade probably didn’t want to hear that, even though they hadn’t said they were exclusive. Not that that was an excuse. All in all, Azriel regretted everything. Especially since the moment the red-haired heir had left, a beautiful, deafening, snap, echoed in his ears. 

The other side of the bond was foggy which made Azriel assume Eris had absolutely no idea. Great. That was not helpful in his current position. What was he supposed to do? Go up to Eris and say, ‘by the way, we’re mates! Sorry for saying we have no special connection, could we reconcile?’

Azriel sighed, deciding to get a drink. He approached a rose-gold cup with a pink-tinged liquid inside. After sniffing it, he downed the drink in one gulp. The liquid fogged his head, making it hard to think. But it tasted good. Like the pumpkin spice lattes that Eris would sometimes give him. He hummed, going to grab another cup.

He stopped, a sudden realization settling in. He had taken the first cup, nobody else had drank one all night. He knew because Thesan always said that once a drink was out, it was out.  Azriel slowly looked up. People were watching him, eyes drilling into his skull. Shit. What the fuck was that drink?

‘Whatever Azriel. I’m done with you.’

Azriel’s head shot up. That was Eris’s voice, those were his words, his tone, his accent. It was Eris yet Eris wasn’t even in this room. 

What the fuck?

‘I’m done with you.’

Azriel hissed softly. This was bad. Hearing voices was a sure sign of 1. crazyiness, 2. in this case, a love potion, 3. being cursed. It was most likely the second option, which was definitely not ideal. 

A small crowd of onlookers gathered, seemingly waiting for a reaction.

Azriel’s shadows surrounded him, almost laughing at their master. He couldn’t even blame them if they took Eris’s side in this matter. Sure, Eris had said some horrible things but at the end of the day, Azriel was the one to start the whole situation to begin with. 

So he closed his eyes, and let his shadows control wherever he goes, just as long as it’s out of this damn room. 

The only thing?

He didn’t expect to land right on top of a half-asleep Eris Vanserra.

dividers by @saradika

lol idk i like it- I tried to leave an open ending…

[yardsards]

clint mcelroy creating a dnd character: oh yeah, this bad boy can fit so much simple zest for life in him

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[send-me-a-puffalope]

guys wtf i just had the most detailed dream last night about a girlfriend that doesn’t exist,,, like idk how to explain it 😭😭😭 and i don’t even remember her name, it’s at the edge of my memory but i can’t recover it. but i remember like all the events and her face.