#and then come back on saturday afternoon if its not done again

[moldwood]

licherally so saddening that the best time i had to work on things was taken away because i had no electricity with which to paint

[k1ssuu]

SADDLE UP, COWGIRL 𐚁₊⊹

bull rider!abby x farmer’s daughter // word count : 1,086 // not proof read

Abigail ‘Abby’ Anderson, otherwise known as the best damn bull rider in the West. She’d been in the rodeo as a bull rider since she was old enough to do so. She was decent enough at first, but within a few seasons she managed to dominate all the other competition in town, and even in the state. She was the top rider in the women’s division, but managed to effortlessly beat the scores of the top ranking men as well.

Before you and Abby had gotten together you would admire her silently from the stands. You would drag your friends with you every Saturday just so you could see that girl ride. You never left disappointed. Now that you are together you continue to show up every weekend, supporting your girlfriend loudly from the bleachers.

There she was now, on the back of the bucking steer, her face furrowed in concentration. The way she moved her hips and the sight of her muscles flexing through her slightly too tight button up shirt had you captivated. Her skill was both impressive and so, so hot. Her dirty blonde hair shone in the afternoon sun, tied back in its usual neat braid. Counting down the timer in her head, you could see her look of concentration turn to one of triumph. The stands cheered loudly as the eight second timer buzzed, signifying that she had done it once again.

“Another incredible run for Abby with a score of 90 points! Each and every day she gets closer to a perfect score! Will next Saturday be the day she finally hits that big 100!?” The announcers said excitedly over the speakers, and the crowd only grew louder after hearing her score. You, of course, cheered along with them.

You watched as the bullfighters helped her off the bull, her smile wide as she waved to the stands. Quickly making your way down to the side of the arena, you met her as soon as she walked out. You met her halfway and wrapped your arms around her, burying your nose into her hair.

“That was incredible.” You pulled away, taking a second to admire her. A bead of sweat ran down her temple and her freckled cheeks were flushed a rosy pink. The smile that you loved so much had not left her face, and likely would not for the rest of the night.

“What, you surprised?” She asked sarcastically, her eyes wandering across your frame.

With a scoff you replied. “Obviously not.” To which she laughed and pulled you in for a quick kiss. Her lips were always soft and tonight she tasted like coffee and a hint of chewing tobacco. She always tasted like chewing tobacco after the rodeo. You both pulled away, stupid smiles on each of your faces.

She took a step back and wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to her. “Come on, let’s watch the rest of the rodeo.” She said as she steered you into the direction of the stands.

You stayed for the remainder of the night, watching all the other bull riders (none of which were as impressive as Abby) and the barrel racers. The sun started to sink behind the mountainous horizon, painting the sky various hues of pinks, purples, and blues. Abby was a constant presence of warmth next to you, an additional layer of heat in the already humid air.

By the time the rodeo was over, Abby had maintained the highest score in the bull riding division, not that anyone was surprised to hear. She walked away from that arena with her chin held highly and you tucked under her arm. You walked amongst the crowd of people back to Abby’s car. Many offered their congratulations to your girlfriend as they passed, saying things along the lines of “you did it again!” and “nobody has a chance with you as their competition”.

She thanked each of them, her smile growing just a little bit bigger each time. Her arm tightened around you just slightly, keeping you close to her.

Everyone was covered in the reddish dirt, blue jeans and button ups were covered in it, which was normal after a night at the rodeo. The sound of everyone’s footsteps on the soft ground sounded like a herd of cattle traveling down the path. By now the sun had set and the stars had begun to twinkle up above.

Abby led you to her beat up old truck and opened the passenger door for you, ever the polite lady. Her truck was unmistakable. It was an old, worn down Ford that had rusted bumpers and holes in the seats. It smelled like her, too. All in all it was rough around the edges but comfortable enough.

Once you were situated in the passenger seat she joined you, sitting in the driver’s seat. However instead of turning the car on she just sat there and gave you a dopey smile.

“You did really great tonight, I’m proud of you, Abs.” You said, giving her a smile in return.

“Thanks. I love that you’re always there to cheer me on.” She said as she grabbed your left hand, holding it in both of hers. Your smile only grew wider at the gentle touch.

“What happened to that ego of yours? I was expecting some smart ass response.” You laughed.

“Well,” She laughed, not being able to come up with an excuse, which only made you laugh more. She laughed along with you and she cupped your face gently. She pulled you in for a kiss that started out gentle, your lips barely touching. It soon grew heavier and more passionate, her hand slipping to the back of your neck. You were practically over the center console by now, but you pulled away before she managed to pull you completely into the driver’s seat.

Her freckled cheeks were flushed, her lips were still parted, and her eyes were searching for your lips again. Her hair that was usually neatly braided was now messy, strands falling out and onto her forehead.

“Want to… head into the backseat?” You asked with a smile, motioning your head to the backseat of her truck.

She smiled back, and nodded. The both of you climbed into the backseat and you ended up on top of her, quickly ended up in a heated kiss once again.

Pulling away just slightly she mumbled against your lips “I think it’s your turn to ride, cowgirl.”

tag list : @brackishkittie @nombreuxx @ichokedonmyoreo @homelandofthegods @my-w0-rld @blondehya @bambishaven @elr-ology @abbysgymbro @oceaseaa @idiotuvu-blog @sophsstarsxm @giuliaexe66 @abyssgf @nelzooo @bootyfartsmylove @gays6968 @colbyweirdo @foreingersgod @rougesquadron9 @delusionalvioleht @aouiaa @kisssssessssssyj @sunflowerwinds @burgundyredworld @starlight-savegery @nybueckers @prettybratsworld @madame-grimdark-blog @forgetdisturbance @redcherrytea @prettymuchboodup @h00d-tr4sh @skzhoiic

©k1ssuu’24

[heich0e]

Touya's not usually one to check his text messages.

Never has been, ever since he got his first cellphone when he was 13. He finds it more of a nuisance than anything, the way people always want to get ahold of him. Always expect a response from him over the most mundane shit. He barely likes talking to anyone as is, let alone during his private time—therefore, as a general rule, he doesn't respond to texts.

Especially not ones that pop up on his phone on a lazy Saturday afternoon with the contact name 'Bird Brain' listed as the sender.

But when these particular message previews appear, rudely interrupting him in the middle of watching a cake decorating video while he lays sprawled across the couch, Touya can't help but click through to the conversation to give them the response that they deserve.

His response is about as succinct and unamused as he is.

Three telltale dots appear at the bottom of the conversation before Touya can click away, and he finds himself waiting to see what Keigo comes back with—for reasons not even he quite understands.

Touya pushes himself up off the couch in an instant, stomping into your bedroom.

He finds himself hesitating once he makes it to the doorway, his body having moved relatively of its own accord, realizing only once he's standing at the threshold that he's not even really sure what he's going to say.

You're laying across the bottom of your bed on your tummy with your sock-clad feet lifted in the air behind you. You have one headphone in your ear and your laptop propped in front of you with that stupid romantic drama you like so much playing—the one Touya pretends he hates but always gets a little pouty when you watch an episode without him. You turn when you spot him in your peripheral vision, popping your headphone out of your ear and hitting the spacebar to pause your show.

"I'm almost done," you tell him, glancing back to your screen where the male lead is paused mid-confession—his mouth still open in the middle of his ardent monologue. You peer back at him again over your shoulder with a slightly smug look. "If you hadn't watched ahead without me we could be watching it together, y'know."

"That was an accident," Touya grumbles, sniffing a little indignantly. "It started playin' automatically when I turned the TV on."

"Sure, sure," you chirp, turning back to your laptop. When you realize Touya's still lingering there, you face him again, this time pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can twist around to look at him more fully. Your brow furrows. "What's wrong?"

Touya sucks in a breath of air and holds it in his cheeks, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Can I see your phone for a sec?" he asks.

The pinch of your brow slackens as one of them lifts in surprise.

"Yeah," you say, though your tone is still a little wary. You nod towards your bedside table at the head of the bed. "It's plugged in."

Touya shuffles towards you, rounding the end of your bed frame and approaching the device in question. He sit down at the edge of the mattress, and it dips under his weight. Beside him, you shuffle a bit closer to him as you resume watching your show, one of your feet brushing gently against his back as you kick them idly back and forth.

Touya knows your passcode, just like you know his, so it's no effort to unlock the device once he has it in hand. Finding the app in question is another story entirely.

He turns to you.

"Which one of these is Instagram?" he asks, holding the device in front of your face with the home screen open.

You pause your show again.

"This one," you say, pointing to one particular app icon, but your voice is notably perplexed.

Touya's never had any interest in social media. He had a couple of accounts when he was a teenager but hasn't properly logged in for years. As new social networking sites have risen and fallen, he's never bothered to even sign up, seeing no need in signing away his personal data to a platform he'll never use anyway.

Touya taps his thumb against the icon that you pointed out, waiting for the application to launch. His leg jiggles impatiently while he waits for it to load.

Beside him, you don't unpause your show.

When the screen finally loads, Touya is immediately accosted by an unfamiliar interface. There's some photo of a girl he doesn't know taking up most of the screen, and a few bubbles in the upper right hand corner that he can only assume are notifications you haven't checked. Touya may not use social media, but he's not an idiot either, so after clicking around the screen for long enough he finally manages to pull up what he recognizes as your personal profile.

"Touya, what are you doing?" you ask, thoroughly bewildered now, having just watched your boyfriend visit just about every corner of the Instagram app.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

Slowly, he turns to look at you.

"Did you just post this?"

He doesn't really need to ask, considering the baggy t-shirt you're wearing in the photo—his t-shirt, he recognizes immediately—is the same one you currently have on as you lie stretched across your bed. It's all you have on, save for the frilly little socks on your feet and the edge of the panties he can see peeking out where your shirt's hem has ridden up.

The photo blessedly has left those out.

You clear your throat, almost like you're embarrassed, reaching out for your cellphone. "Yeah, a little while ago."

Touya holds the device out of your reach, and a little sound of indignation slips from your lips. He keeps scrolling.

Your profile is full of photos of you that are just as charming as the first one he'd seen. Some are of friends, or food, or places you've visited. Many are even of him, or the two of you together. The collection is like a series of little snapshots into your life—of all the moments you wanted to save or share. But every so often there will be a photo just of you.

You with your lips pursed coyly, or maybe quirked with the ghost of a smile. You wrapped in a skimpy little dress you bought for a special occasion that Touya is all too familiar with. You with your eyes bright, or maybe one where they're heavy lidded in a sultry expression that makes something possessive and primal scrape against Touya's ribs.

His face feels hot when he looks at those ones. Hotter still when he realizes other people have seen them too.

"I think you should delete your account," he says suddenly, turning to face you with a completely serious—and markedly insistent—expression.

"W-what? Touya!" You exclaim plaintively. You push yourself up onto your knees and scrabble for your phone. Touya doesn't fight back to any real degree. He lets you crawl into his lap and wrestle it out of his hands, though the two of you do go tumbling back across the bed in the process. Once you've safely tossed the phone down to the other end of the bed out of his reach, you turn back to him with an irritated pinch to your features.

Touya meets your gaze easily, like a man without guilt.

"What's gotten into you?" you ask him softly, still straddling his lap. Your hands rest over his sternum, fiddling idly with the strings of his hoodie.

Touya sighs, reaching up and tugging you down to his chest before snaking his arms around your waist to keep you pressed against him. You don't try and wiggle out of his grip like he thinks that you might, instead you let him hold you, nuzzling your face into the collar of his sweatshirt.

"You're being weird," you mumble.

"No, weird would be me asking you to throw your phone away and never leave the house again so I'm the only one who gets to look at you," Touya replies, his fingers dipping under the hem of your—his—shirt and creeping up along your spine. "I'm actually being pretty normal, all things considered."

You huff out a little laugh and Touya feels the warmth of it break against the skin of his throat. You lift your face so you can look at him, and Touya admires the view of you from so close up. The curve of your lips, the colour of your eyes, the tip of your nose. He could look at you all day, he realizes then. Every part of you. Every inch and dip and curve that makes you up. He could study them. Map them out with his eyes closed, long committed to memory.

You make him feel kind of insane, sometimes. More insane than usual, anyway. He worries that he likes you too much.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask him quietly.

You.

Touya purses his lips.

It wasn't his intended goal, but he's happy to accept the little kiss you press against them anyway, a laugh slipping out of his mouth and into yours before you pull away. He shuts his eyes, letting his head tip back against the bed again, letting out a long, exhausted breath.

"Wanna help me set up an instagram account?" he finally mutters after a long stretch of silence.

You push yourself up overtop of him, and when he cracks one eye open he finds you looking down at him excitedly.

"Really?" you ask him incredulously, but undeniably pleased by the prospect.

He nods a bit, pulling you back down against his chest. He lets his eyes shut once more.

If deleting your account is out of the question, he might as well have his own so at least he gets to admire it.

You wiggle comfortably in Touya's hold, your TV show long forgotten at the other end of the bed, content to just let your boyfriend trace lazy circles into your thigh as your legs tangle together with his.

Touya's eyes pop open again suddenly, an unpleasant and not-so distant memory rushing back to him.

Your gaze meets his own, a quiet concern swimming behind it.

He takes your face in his hand.

"How do you block someone on Instagram?"

[jessiexflem]

- all-american | jessie fleming x reader

content: fluff, UCLA Jessie! (and Teagan being a butthead)

word count: 1.4K

requests are open :)

“You’re staring again,” Teagan pokes her teammate with the eraser on her pencil.

Heat rises up Jessie’s neck and face as she turns her head to glare at the Australian, “I am not!”

“Oh, whatever,” Teagan scoffs, rolling her eyes, “you’ve been giving her heart-eyes the entire time we’ve been here.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah? Then what’s the answer for number twelve?”

Jessie glances down at her calculus homework, the paper mostly unaltered except where she had scribbled her name in the top corner. 

“Thought so,” Teagan replies smugly, “Gotta get your head screwed on, Jess, our grades depend on it.”

“You aren’t even supposed to be talking right now,” Jessie points at the ‘quiet please’ sign above the librarian’s head before focusing back on her homework, hoping it would encourage her friend to drop the subject.

“Come on, Jess, why don’t you just ask her out?” 

“I thought you told me to focus on our homework,” Jessie sets her pencil down with a huff, “Plus, why would I do that?”

“Because you like her?” the Australian gives her a ‘duh?’ look.

“No, I don’t!” Jessie’s cheeks flush, “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for starters, we’ve been sitting here for over an hour, and you haven’t noticed that I moved your calculator underneath my notebook” Teagan chuckles, “Not to mention, any time you see her, she’s all you can talk about for hours. ‘Y/N’s so smart, Y/N showed me how to do this in lab, Y/N wasn’t in class today, and I missed her so mu–’”

“We’re just lab partners, that’s all,” Jessie shakes her head. 

Teagan crosses her arms, tipping her chair onto its back legs. She narrows her eyes at her roommate, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, so if you insist you don’t like Y/N, you won’t mind if I ask her out on a date?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you don’t like her, right? So, you wouldn’t be jealous?”

“Go for it,” Jessie replies dryly. She knew there was no way Teagan would actually ask you out, she barely knew you. She wouldn’t even know who you were if she hadn’t (annoyingly) crashed one of your study sessions during midterms last semester. 

Putting her head down, Jessie redirects her attention back to her neglected math problems. The assignment was due at midnight, and she managed to make zero progress. Copying the numbers from the first question, she starts working through the equation until she realizes she needs a function on her graphing calculator.

“Can I have my calc–” Jessie stops mid-sentence as she looks up to see Teagan waving you over to their table, “What are you doing?!”

“You said I could ask Y/N out, so I figured I’d catch her as she was leaving.”

Backpack slung over your shoulders, you weave your way toward where the two were sitting. You notice Jessie’s posture tense as she whispers frantically to her teammate. Catching her eye, you direct a smile at your lab partner.

“Y/N!” Teagan greets cheerfully, “Done studying for the day?”

You shrug, “I should probably look over my ethics study guide a bit more, but I could feel my brain going numb and figured it was time for a break. What about you two?”

“Well, if you’re needing another study break later this week,” Teagan starts. Intrigued by what she had to say, you didn’t notice the color drain from Jessie’s normally rosy cheeks. “We were wondering if you were free Saturday afternoon? Jessie and I have a game at 4, and we wanted to invite you to watch.”

Jessie, realizing she was subconsciously holding her breath, let out a deep exhale. 

“I’d love to! I haven’t been able to make it out to one yet,” you say as your phone begins to buzz in your hand, “I’ve got to head out, but text me the details, Jess?”

Jessie nods rapidly, her brain unable to form a coherent answer. She watches you walk away, feeling Teagan’s eyes burning a hole in her cheek. She didn’t even have to turn her head to know that her friend had the biggest smirk on her face.

“So, if I ever think that my lab partner’s getting asked out on a date, should I look like I’m about to puke, too? Or are you going to admit you have a crush on the girl?” Teagan teases.

“I hate you,” Jessie mutters, glaring at her.

“Bet you can’t wait to show off your first team All-American skills, huh? You better practice what goal celebration you’re going to dedicate to her.”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Jessie and Y/N, sitting in a tree, K–”

“Just give me my calculator back.”

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

Jessie was having a horrible game. She couldn’t remember the last time she played this poorly. Constantly losing the ball in the midfield, getting outrun and out-muscled by her opposing mark. Her head was running a thousand miles a minute, and the only thing she could focus on was that Y/N was sitting front row. 

It was the opposing team’s corner, and Teagan was shouting directions, ensuring each of her outfielders had their mark. The ball gets served in, and Jessie goes up for the header, making contact square on her forehead. However, instead of directing the ball out of the 18, her body was angled slightly toward the goal, meaning the ball veered toward Teagan instead. Luckily, it hit off the post and fell to their teammate, Hailie’s, feet, who cleared the ball toward midfield.

“Jessie, what the hell?” Jessie hears Teagan shout from behind her.

The halftime whistle blows, and Jessie couldn’t get to the locker room faster. Before she could reach her cubby, Coach Cromwell pulls her off to the side.

“Fleming, do you want to explain why it looks like you’ve never touched a soccer ball before in your life?” Coach Cromwell raises an eyebrow at her. 

“I–I don’t know, nerves, I guess,” Jessie gnaws on the inside of her cheek, unable to make eye contact with her coach.

“Well, you better get your nerves sorted by the end of halftime unless you want to get benched for the rest of the game.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jessie nods, keeping her head down as she shuffles to her locker. Teagan, assigned the cubby next to her, frowns at her, brows furrowed with concern.

The second half went smoother for the midfielder. Her tackles were timed better, and she had better possession of the ball. The game remained tied at 0-0, UCLA pushing the ball into the opposing half of the field. Hailie sent a ball into Jessie’s feet, and she dribbled down the sideline, the opposing winger closing in on her. Faking left, she got the opponent to bite, leaving her a hole for Jessie to slip the ball between her legs. The crowd went nuts, you included. Jessie laid the ball off for her teammate, Ashley, who took the ball into the corner drawing a defender so the Canadian could make a run in. Ashley crossed a low-through ball into the box, which Jessie met at the top of the six, slotting it into the bottom-left corner of the goal. 

You jumped to your feet, cheering as loud as you could. Noticing Jessie scanning the crowd, you give her an overexaggerated wave, to which she acknowledges with a smile. The game ends 2-0, Ashley tacking on another goal in the final two minutes. Waiting for Jessie and Teagan to complete their “good games” and post-game huddle, you stick yourself by the fence in a spot where they could easily find you. 

“Y/N, you made it!” Teagan exclaims, jogging over, Jessie not far off her heels. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you beam, “you guys did awesome! Great goal, Jess.”

Jessie’s cheeks flush as Teagan throws an arm around her, “She nearly had two.”

“You’re never letting me live that down, will you?” she groans, trying to avoid Teagan’s soft punches to her ribs.

“Teagan!” the three of you turn to see Hailie motioning Teagan back over to the bench, giggling, “Come here!”

“I’ll be back,” Teagan says, shooting Jessie an obvious wink before running off. Jessie throws her hands up in protest, grumbling something under her breath. She turns back to you, cheeks still red.

“Um, thanks for coming to watch,” she smiles sheepishly. A few yards behind her, she can hear Teagan making loud, fake coughs. Their conversation from the other day flashes through her mind. “I still have to shower, but would you, uh, maybe want to get dinner? With me, I mean?”

“Teagan and Hailie, too? Or, are you asking me out on a date?” you grin.

“I–well, I mean,” Jessie stammers, her face hot. 

“Because I’d much rather it be a date,” you assure.

Relief floods through Jessie’s entire body. “Then it’s a date.”

[matryosika]

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth. 

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?” 

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway. 

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?” 

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”. 

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”. 

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished. 

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind. 

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”. 

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”. 

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung. 

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”. 

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”. 

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to. 

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back. 

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards. 

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees. 

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”. 

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you. 

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”. 

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches. 

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”. 

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. 

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

 So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations. 

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it. 

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it. 

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?” 

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”. 

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs. 

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”. 

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time. 

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable. 

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there. 

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you. 

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?” 

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile. 

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”. 

[pottersmiracle]

Did you draw me?

Sean Diaz x Fem! Reader

warnings: fluff-daniel annoying sean but reader finding it cute-estaban being a stereotypical dad-flustered sean-sean calls reader amor (love)-use of y/n-i think thats it

summary: its a normal Saturday afternoon at your boyfriends house, you would go over there most weekends and his family loved you. This time while your hanging out with his brother and dad you catch him drawing you.

a/n: finally writing for the loml - sean listens to the smiths fight me on that - not proofread don’t kill me

Masterlist

“Come on! I wanna show you what i made!” Daniel pulled your hand to drag you to his room and your boyfriend sitting next to you rolled his eyes, “dude leave her alone! She doesn’t want to see your project.” You gently smacked his arm, “yes i do actually.” And you followed Daniel to his room.

Seans dad laughed at him, “you’re lucky she puts up with you.” Sean shook his head and mumbled, “it’s shocking isnt it.” Sean got off the stool he was sitting on and went to the couch as he dad laughed again, he laid on it with his sketchbook in hand.

After a few minutes you and Daniel came out of his room and back to where Sean and his dad still were, “have fun?” His dad asked. “Yeah! Y/n thought it was cool.” Daniel said excitedly as he say on one of the stools. I nodded in response. His dad laughed, “thats good.”

You listened and watched Daniel and Esteban joke around about his school and other things for about 10 minutes before you decided to check on your boyfriend. You walked around the couch so you were behind him, you were gonna scare him but then you looked closer at his sketchbook. You watched him add more details and you smiled when you notcied it was a drawing of you, Daniel, and Esteban but the main focus of the drawing was you, you had the most details.

“Did you draw me?” You asked him making him jump and sit up, “w-what? What are you talking about?” He asked, a blush spreading on his cheeks. You smiled wider, “let me see your sketchbook.” He closed it quickly and held it to his chest, “no.” You both didnt notice Esteban laughing and watching you guys.

“Please?” You practically begged him with the sweetest voice you could give him. He didnt budge though as much as he wanted to, but you eventually grabbed it from him and he jumped off the couch to chase you, you ran into the the kitchen and stood behind Esteban and he helped hold back sean as you flipped through the pages to find the drawing.

“Hey! Dad- let me go! Give it back!” Sean struggled in his dads arms and Daniel laughed watching the chaos. Sean saw as you flipped to the page and he groaned and stopped struggling, his dad stepped closer to you so he could see it too.

“Aww Sean.” You said looking at the drawing. He didnt respond, he just hung his head in embarrassment. “Aww.” His dad teased him poking Sean in the sides. You leaned against the counter and flipped through other pages of his sketchbook, that wasnt the only drawing he’s done of you.

“Alright kids its time for me to get back to it. You know where ill be if you need me.” Esteban said squeezing you and seans shoulder softly and ruffling daniels hair as he walked past him on the way to the garage. “I have to finish my project in my room any way.” Daniel said running to his room.

“Oh don’t hurry back!” Sean said to daniel and walked towards you. You closed the book and looked at him, he was closer to you now and you couldnt help but recognize how tall he was compared to you.

“They’re amazing Sean.” You said softly and wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him. He hugged you back, “thank you amor.” When you pulled away he kissed you softly, lifting your chin up towards him.

“Make sure you guys are keeping it pg in here yeah? You are in a public slace.” You heard from his dad making you both pull away, “dad..” Sean groaned shaking his head as you both looked towards the garage and saw esteban walking towards the counter and picking up a tool, “forgot this. Have fun you two,” he joked, “but not too much! Don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.” He winked at the both of you making Sean groan and you laugh.

He walked back down to the garage and you heard the door shut and Sean sighed, “my room?” “Sure.” You said still laughing. He grabbed his sketchbook off the counter and took your hand with his empty hand and you both walked to his room.

You two ended up taking an amazing nap together.

[mara-and-its-the-same]

let’s understand that this is Mara immediately post breakup so this means i get to have it as wild as i want it to be...but anyway, all i’ve been thinking about is rebounding with Danny, duh. Beyond suggestive, it's directly implied, 2k words and a big thank you to @frnchgirls, rose is a most gracious help. Enjoy 🥰

“What about like this?”

If anyone asked Danny the series of events that led him here, there would be no sane answer. Friday night he meets you at the Vandals’ bar, Saturday night he learns that you live in Chicago but were dating another Vandal in a different chapter and just suffered a messy break up, and by Sunday afternoon he’s got you posing on his bed with the brand new knowledge that before you got into that relationship you were a lingerie model until that guy made you quit. 

“Danny?” You ask him again, leaning on your elbows and one knee slightly bent to the side over the other.

He shakes himself out of his daydreaming to realize that reality is ten times better and hopes you don’t notice his dazed off gaze from your side of the camera. “Yeah?”

“Is this a good pose?” 

Kathy told you that you should get back into modeling, then offered Danny to help you practice, maybe get new photos to show some agents.  Neither of you were busy this weekend, so now here you are in a brand new soft blue babydoll negligee that she made you buy the minute she heard about the split, on Danny’s bed. 

God, how he washed those sheets and cleaned all over his apartment as soon as you asked if you could do it at his place. It hasn’t been so neat since he toured the place. But now there you are wanting him to tell you if you look good in your lingerie on his bed. But photography is his job, he’s a professional, he can do this.

He could do this, if his tongue wasn’t suddenly tied until he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, maybe you just lean back a little more?”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” He captures the picture and tries some more from a few different angles. “What about laying down?”

“Mhm,” you move a bit further down the bed and let your hair fall around you as best it could on its own. “Here?”

“Yeah, can I move your hair?”

“Yeah,” he rearranges your strands so they frame your face perfectly and look as effortless as possible.

“Gorgeous.” The shudder clicks right as he said it, so fast that he hits it a second time just to catch your smile when he says it.

“Really?” He catches the moment your face changes from eyes closed and sultry, to open and joyous.

“Beautiful.”

“Me? Or just your pictures? 

“You, and the pictures of you.”

“Thank you,” you roll over again and he gets one from another angle. 

It was never anything crazy, the sets you modeled. Just some odd jobs for more local boutiques, never anything obscene or ridiculously lavish. Danny refuses to believe that though. You make plastic rhinestones shine like diamonds. Machine spun cotton lace looks like hand threaded silk from Paris the second it touches your skin. 

“Do you think we got enough of this one?” you ask.

“I think so. I can get these developed and have them ready in a few days,” he starts packing his camera away. “What size did you say you wanted?”

“Oh I don’t know, but— Well actually I brought one more thing to try on. Unless you want to be done?”

He’s not sure how much more of this he can really take. How much longer can he be in the same room as you before he busts just from looking at you. 

“Yeah, sure- I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He tries not to stare as you slide of the bed and start looking through the bag you brought on his way out the door. 

3 minutes later your head is poked out of the door and into the kitchen, “Danny, you can come in now.”

Oh what a sight you are. The black nightgown reaches down all the way to your ankles, the silky fabric falls over your hips so perfectly, and the only thing between the air and your chest is a thin layer of the finest lace he’s ever seen. “I haven’t worn this in years.”

“That’s a shame.” He can’t believe he’s said that, especially in the tone he did, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t even wear it just by yourself. You must know how you look in it, how it looks tailored to your body in every square inch. 

“I know. But he didn’t like it. It’s vintage Chantelle, all silk. Didn’t know how to appreciate it properly.” You sit back on the bed again and just then he notices the slit up one side that just about nears the top of your thigh. 

You’re about to take a new pose when he asks you a most peculiar question. 

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“Do you mind if I move you?” He says with more confidence this time and what a gift that he did.

“Sure.”

He sets the camera down on his dresser and comes towards you. With his hands on your shoulders— your nearly bare shoulders, his thumbs fitting perfectly just into the dips of your clavicles —he leads you to lay down against the pillows and rearranges your hair. He takes one of your hands and places it beside your head, the other he moves across your torso with your hand cusping your hip bone. He steps back a bit to consider your legs, with respect to the slit. After slowly, so slowly coasting down the length of your leg, he softly pulls one ankle down straight, and pushes the other slitted one up so that it is slightly bent at the knee and tilts it towards the other. 

He takes a second to look at you, really look at you, and he can’t believe anyone would ever try to keep you from this. 

Maybe he’s just getting to know your form, for the sake of the composition, you think. But only for a moment before you see him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, just for a second but you notice. 

Finally, finally, he takes the first picture of you like this. With the click of the shutter you’ve made your mind up, you decide to press your luck. “What if I like…” you bring the hand that was on your hip up to your mouth and bite the top knuckle of your index finger.

“Yes.”

“What’s the look you’re thinking though?”

“They’re your pictures. I’m thinking whatever you want me to think.”

“But you’re the photographer, the artist.”

“You’re the art.”

“Would you kiss me?”

He nearly drops the camera. “What?”

“They like when pictures tell stories, the story would be that I’m messy and ravished and the clothes are serving their intended purpose. If you’re alright with that?”

He so absolutely, most certainly, positively is more than just alright with that. “Yeah, ok.”

You push yourself back up on the bed while he positions himself at the edge. “So how do you wa—“ he’s cut off by your pull to his collar and the press of your lips. Surpassing his initial surprise he brings a hand up around you to hold your waist, and the other up to your jaw. Messy, you want it messy. And salacious, lascivious even. Beyond suggestive, obvious is what you need. He can tell from the way you continue to pull him into you even as his chest is flush against yours. 

You pull away panting for no more than a second to order “Get the camera off the bed.” How sweet of you to be concerned, he nearly leaps over you to put it on the nightstand and he’d like to say ‘if it were any less expensive’ he would have just thrown it, but he knows that the price of it wasn’t what stopped him, it was the fear of damaging even a single one of those pictures of you. 

As he’s leaning over you, you slide down a little further on the bed so he can reach you easier. Or maybe to muss your hair up a little more if it’s against the pillows, or any other excuse you could make to make it seem like this is all for the picture and not your own desires. 

From there it is licks, bites, tugs, sucks of lips. And you’re trying, you’re both trying to keep your hands out of it, but how could you when his hair is so soft and the back of his neck is the perfect shape for you to hold. And how could he when your skin is so perfect and your bare leg is right there.

“I want a hickey.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss my neck.” He kisses you twice more on his way to your throat and you can’t help the sound you make when he reaches the perfect spot. Already he has you gasping for air. “Oh god.” His hand slithers up the slit, sliding even higher in search of your hip bone or waist to hold. 

“Wait,” He lifts himself to be eye level with you, “wait—“

“Hm?”

“Sorry, just…You’re—This is real now, right?”

“Yes, yes, very real.” You rush to pull him back down to your lips and nearly crash noses with the way he rushes down to meet you. 

“Mmph,” he groans at the scratch of your nails across his scalp and just the sound makes your back arch. Moving down again, he passes soft kisses down the valley of your chest. You’re positive he can feel the beat of your heart through every inch of your skin. How you’ve missed this, being wanted, being adored. And how he’s missed crossing beyond the other side of the lens, the feel of sculpting another body just by the skill of his touch. 

As he’s pushing the side of your skirt up and away a sudden fear strikes you, “Wait!”

“What is it?” He immediately sits back and takes his hands away, looking into your eyes for any cause for concern.

“I’m so sorry, but I really don’t want to rip it.”

“Oh,” you see him immediately relax, “So…”

You make no answer, though you do sit up to your knees and move the skirt out from underneath you. With a gesture to the strap that has fallen off your shoulder, he finally gets the message. However, in the spirit of fairness, his own shirt is the first thing to go and before you have time to remember your original intent you both rise on your knees just to kiss again. You feel before you look while your hands roam his torso. 

And slowly, so slowly, through wandering presses, pulls, and squeezes, he reaches the sides of your thighs and takes your nightgown by the seams to lift it over your head. He takes it by the straps to hang by the corner of the headboard rather than tossing it to the floor. 

You guide him forwards as you move to your back again, his knee moves between your legs while his fingertips smooth along your jaw. His eyes dance around your face, and as embarrassed as he may be to admit it, he takes a fleeting glance down the space between your bodies. An idea flashes before him, a bold one, but at this point in the afternoon he’s not sure there’s much left that could happen between you two that’d be too bold. He reaches for the camera slowly enough that you knew exactly what he wants. You resist the instinct to shy away when you still see his soft gaze over the camera. The shudder clicks and he drops it back on the nightstand, “That one’s not making it into the book,” Danny smirks at his own teasing before leaning back into you to finish what he started with a smile still on his lips. 

[uhohdad]

HIS

Stalker!Konig x Reader Fic

Summary: It makes him sick to think of the man he used to be. Who he was before you reduced him to an obsessive, jealous monster.

You ruined his life.

Word Count: 10k AO3

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, No use of y/n, AFAB & Feminine Reader, Unreliable Narrator, Non-Consenual Voyeurism, Stalking, Breaking and Entering, Abusive Relationships, Depictions of: Non-Con Sex, Choking, Hair-Pulling, Spanking, Slut-Shaming, Bad German, Orgasm Torture, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Smoking, Konig has a Love/Hate Relationship with Reader, Implications of Ghost x Reader, hopefully the reader isn’t too out of character for y’all, unfortunately this one had to be more detail oriented, you will be making an uncharacteristic amount of phone calls i’ll tell you that much

Continuation of this, but can be enjoyed stand-alone

He dreamt of you last night.

You were ethereal, liebe. A true angel - floating down to him in his dark isolation, basking him in your elegant golden light. He finally had your attention. The pleasure of having your gaze fixed on him, nothing but adoration in your sparkling eyes. Your hand extended gracefully out to him, delicate fingers cupping the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek. A gesture of appreciation for the hours he poured into you, an acceptance of his protection. An apology, for denying him the ownership that he had earned over and over again.

An ownership he was overdue for.

A chill wrapped its fingers around Konig’s spine, unforgiving frost spreading from his core to his fingertips. Your expression had changed without transition, eyes suddenly pooled with malice, lips tightened in disgust. A growl thick with hatred reverberated through him when the thrust of your arm plunged a sword through his heart.

Frantic callused hands scramble to the wound, relieved to find only a shirt drenched in sweat as Konig shook the haze of sleep. Relieved to know you hadn’t seen him for what he really was, that you hadn’t rejected him so cruelly.

He was beginning to resent you for the sleep deprivation. He knew you were going to let him sleep in today. Every Saturday, after a long week of watching over you, you thank him with an opportunity to sleep in.

You ruined it.

Taunting him in his dreams - fooling him even after everything he’s sacrificed, letting him taste a moment where his fantasy comes true, only to rip it away from him so brutally.

Konig soothed himself by lying back, easing himself into the first half of his dream. He replayed the vivid image of you stroking his cheek, looking at him in astonishment after learning about everything he’s done for you.

Maybe he could forgive you for tearing open his chest. For letting him feel true bliss, even for a moment. To let him know what it would feel like to have you.

It’s the least you could do.

Konig doesn’t even recognize himself anymore. He’s entirely off the rails, fully succumb to his depraved behavior, helpless to the urges you’ve scraped to the surface. It makes him sick to think of the man he used to be. Who he was before you reduced him to an obsessive, jealous monster.

You ruined his life.

His passions, his dreams, his reputation - it all pales in comparison to you. Nothing he cared about before matters now. He feels like an addict, powerless to his addiction and chasing the high. He revolves around you, the center of his universe. He’s sure you’re the reason he’s alive. You consume every waking moment of his day, and now his dreams.

And you can’t even be bothered to look at him.

Ungrateful little brat.

You had a late start to the day, making Konig wait for you to sleep off last night’s drinks. It was well into the afternoon when you left your quarters, wearing your civilian clothes and attention glued to your phone as you navigated the paths of the base.

It was a breath of fresh air to see your face again. He’d been drowning, choking on his pitiful existence when you were apart. Dread eats him alive from the inside out, a swarm of maggots and flies deteriorating the meat of his flesh and organs. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand without being with you every moment of the day.

But here you are, his light, his warmth. He can feel you coursing through his veins - another hit of the drug he couldn’t get enough of.

You looked perfect in your jeans and t-shirt. It’s nice to see you out of the drab and ill-fitting clothes the military forces on you. The denim hugs the curve of your ass and meld tight to perfect hips and thighs. He thinks of the show you gave him last night, the way your ass looked in the thin fabric of your panties. He knows what’s underneath those jeans. You can hide it from the rest of the world, but not from him.

You’re not paying attention, liebe. Fingers pecking away at your phone, only glancing up to make sure you didn’t bump into anyone.

It’s dangerous to be alone like this, even more so to be unaware of your surroundings.

You always do this.

How could you be so careless?

This is why he has to sacrifice everything to protect you. To keep prying eyes and itchy fingers away from you while your guard is down.

Your brows pinch as you focus on your phone, lips silently reading the text that fills your screen.

Who is so important that you must risk your safety to return their message?

He wants to sprint up to you, close enough that he can look over your shoulder to read your messages. It takes strength for him to restrain himself, to wait until you’re far enough away before standing from his bench, his boots following in your wake.

Konig’s longed to get his hands on your phone for some time. He knows that phone contains secrets about you he could only dare to dream about. It’s the key to knowing your inner desires, to put him in the position to serve you as best he can. Your intimate messages, browser history, photos.

He wonders if you have nudes on your phone. The very thought sends his blood rushing.

Swiping through your dirty pictures, a collection of obscene poses from his muse. One of you arching your back and pushing your tits out for the camera. Another with you sticking out your tongue, begging to taste him and ready to choke on his cock. On your back, thighs spread, displaying a wet cunt ripe for tasting. On your knees, ass up and waiting impatiently for him to pound you ruthlessly from behind.

His fantasy is tainted by the sharp and scorching realization that if you did have nudes on your phone - you’ve sent them to someone. The thought of another man daring to lay his unworthy eyes on you has his eye twitching, a searing heat already peeling his skin.

Why would you give yourself away, like you’re worth nothing?

He forces a deep breath, redirecting his focus to his pace, strides nearly double the length of yours. He hates having to follow you from so far away. He wants to walk beside you. Towering next to you - he wants everyone to know who you belong to, the mountain they would have to conquer if they wanted to get to you.

He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire journey to your destination, delightfully surprised when you step into the mall. He was worried that you were foolish enough to go somewhere unsavory all by yourself. It’s even better that you were going somewhere with plenty of people around, enough for him to blend in the crowd. Such a wide-open building, perfect for him to keep a watchful eye on you even from a distance.

Maybe today you’ll make it easy for him.

He’s getting tired of you being difficult.

When you duck into a clothing store, Konig can’t help the smile that creeps on his face.

Going to pick out new clothes to model for him?

Oh, you really were being a good girl today.

He’s eager to see what you buy, heart rate accelerating as he imagines the possibilities. He’s already dressing you up in his mind like his little doll.

He settles at a table in the food court with a perfect view. You seemed to be in a rush - not wasting time as you scrape hangers across the metal clothing racks. Eyebrows pinched in concentration, jaw slightly cocked as you pressed your tongue to your teeth. You look cute when you’re focused.

Konig’s brow perks when you stop in your tracks, attention caught by a dress on the end display. Your face relaxes when you lay eyes on it, delicate hands running over its fabric. It was beautiful - a soft pastel blue, intricate azure and yellow flowers blooming on its pattern, a thin white lace stitched along the neckline. It was a dress fit for a princess, fit for his wife. He dives headfirst into a daydream about you wearing it once he’s domesticated you, hem dancing when you greet him with a kiss after a long day. His hands would find your waist when you stand on tippy toes to give him his welcome home kiss.

You flip the price tag before moving on, and his smile falls flat.

That’s the one. That’s the dress you’re meant to wear.

You like it, don’t you?

You stop every so often to check the time on your phone, pulling a face when you do so. Running late to something, he’s sure. Where are you supposed to be? And what’s so important that you needed a new outfit?

He watches you pull a hanger free, a black dress you hold up high enough to obscure his view of you.

No, liebe.

Don’t even think about it.

He can tell from his spot across the walkways that it’s too revealing. It would cut short at your mid-thigh, neckline that’s designed to show off your cleavage. Skin tight and would leave nothing to the imagination.

The kind of dress that would attract the attention of the wrong people.

Of course you would do this.

Dressing yourself like the slut you are.

A scowl smears across his face as he watches you walk up to the cashier.

So you were going to be difficult today.

Just when he thinks you’re finally cutting him some slack, you go out of your way to misbehave.

You’re quick to leave, whorish dress packed away in a white plastic bag and resting on the crease of your arm. Your hands find your phone again, a slight wince at something on your screen.

He’s too disappointed with your clear lack of judgment to think about what’s on your phone that’s stealing your attention.

He has to close his eyes, a few deep breaths to calm himself before he loses control, before he gives in and teaches you a lesson that you so desperately need.

His fists stay tight at his sides, knuckles splotched white on tight fists as he follows you out of the mall in haste.

With a hitch of his breath the rage carried on tensed shoulders lifts.

It’s the sun shining on your hair that grounds him this time. Locks shimmering, revealing their true color to him as the breeze makes your soft tufts dance. Your skin glows in the sun’s warmth - it takes him right back to the euphoria of his dream. Your light, liebe - he can see it.

Your pace slows when you reach behind you, pulling your phone from the sheath of your jean pocket. He can’t see your face, but he watches from behind as you bring it to your ear.

He seized his opportunity to close ground, enough that he can hear your side of the conversation. He normally wouldn’t get so close to you, but you seem to be extra distracted today, and Konig is too curious to miss out on your phone call.

“I know! I know, I’m sorry. I’m almost at the subway. I’ll be there in 20.”

Hearing your voice makes his heart skip a beat. He missed that beautiful voice, silky smooth and goes down like honey.

Especially when you sound so apologetic.

Is this what it’ll be like when you finally own up to the grief you’ve put him through?

There’s a pause before you speak again, a small laugh escaping you.

“He can wait.”

He?

Konig’s thoughts race before you had even finished your sentence, his moment of enamor shattering like rose-colored glasses.

Who’s he?

Is ‘he’ who you picked out that promiscuous dress of yours for?

Anyone who would be okay with that dress doesn’t have your best interests in mind, liebe. Konig knows what’s best for you, and it’s getting harder to watch from the sidelines as you make mistakes time and time again. He’s ready to interfere, to take control away from you, since you’re clearly not responsible enough to do it yourself. Someone needs to put their foot down. You’re begging for him to step in, to discipline you until you can demonstrate you’re capable of behaving.

“Uh,” You trail off in a hum before you respond, “I don’t know about that. You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“I don’t know.” You say with a whine, “This is already a lot for me. I don’t… this really isn’t my thing.”

“No!” You squeak out, followed by a forced casual, “No.” You’re suddenly flustered, stopping in your tracks when a nervous laugh escapes you. You make a quarter turn and Konig flinches when he sees your face, searching around for a quick escape.

“Just because I talk about him a lot doesn’t mean I like him.”

Konig’s eye twitches at ‘him.’ Who are you talking about so often that you’re being accused of crushing on someone?

Maybe you were talking about Konig.

He doubts it, but the idea dulls the edge of the blade you’re slicing him with.

“Because…” You huff, bailing on a sentence you started without thinking through, “Okay, fine. I’ll try. For you.”

What mess were you getting yourself into, liebe? He doesn’t like the sound of this at all.

“Okay, okay. I’m at the station now. See you soon.” Your phone slips back into your pocket.

Going on the subway all by yourself. Look at you, inviting danger in.

He’s locked onto your ass as you make the descent into the underground, hips swaying with each step down the concrete stairs.

If you look this distracting in jeans, what attention do you think you’ll attract in that fucking dress?

You reach for your wallet once you’re down the stairs, the pad of your finger freeing your subway card from its slot.

Shit.

He doesn’t have a subway card.

His gaze flicks to the kiosks before back to you, already swiping your card and pushing through the turnstiles. He scans the crowd before he lands on a pair of cops monitoring the station, ruining his chance to jump the stiles.

He almost drops his wallet as he fumbles for cash, rushing to the kiosk to pay.

He’s pleading under his breath for the machine to process faster. He’s convinced the kiosk could sense his fear, uncooperative to the forceful press of its buttons. Panicked glances over his shoulder reveal you progressing through the station until you’re around the corner and out of sight.

He’s lost track of you by the time he secures his card. The crowd parts for him, his intimidating stature coming in handy as he makes laps around the station before he realizes you’re gone, with no way for him to know where you are headed. A blackhole of dread swallows him whole - sweat escapes the flustered heat that blistered his skin, heart pounding against his ribcage. His hand finds his head, quiet but rigid expletives riding his exhales.

Why do you have to make things so hard for him?

He’s failed you. He’s sorry, liebe. He’s supposed to be your guard. Anything that happens to you tonight will be his fault. He suspects you’re really going to be acting out tonight, going somewhere out of your comfort zone with other men, dressed like a prostitute. Your light on display for anyone to dim.

White hot flashes of grabbing hands, lingering eyes, and cheap compliments invade his thoughts, stomach tightening and threatening to retch.

This is your fault.

You’re just a foolish little girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her. You’ve pushed him to his limit, he can’t let this go on anymore.

If you won’t behave, he’ll just have to show you how a good girl acts.

It takes him too long to realize he’s holding his breath, fist clenched and teeth grit as his rage burns him from the inside out. His eyes pinch shut as he tries to recenter himself, forcing deep breaths through his tightened jaw.

Nothing too extreme.

A gentle nudge.

A push to test the waters, to see if you can handle the expectations that go along with being his. To give you an opportunity to change your indecent behavior before he puts you in your place the hard way.

————————————————————-

Konig’s taken the lives of countless men, a ruthless brute in the heat of the battlefield. He’s been in thousands of life or death circumstances, finding himself on the other end of blades and triggers on a near daily basis. He thrives in danger.

It’s nothing in comparison to the adrenaline coasting through his veins as he picks the lock to your quarters.

He can hear his heartbeat, the rush of his blood deafening him as he crouches in front of your door, head snapping side to side to ensure the coast remains clear. He‘s nauseous with excitement, stomach churning and sweat soaking his clothes.

There’s a part of him, a sliver thin remnant of the respectable man he used to be, that manifests as a weight of guilt in his stomach. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, that he was so far beyond the line he couldn’t even see it anymore. This was a new magnitude of violating your privacy.

He knows that if he got caught, he’d be discharged faster than he could explain himself. He’d lose you, his warmth.

You left him no choice.

If you didn’t want this to happen, you shouldn’t have run from him. You’ve given him the perfect opportunity. He’s got more than enough time to get his fix, and it’s the only substitute he’ll accept for missing an evening without his eyes you.

When the lock finally pops, hands fumbling for the knob, he miscalculates his strength and sends himself tripping into your room. Quickly but quietly shutting the door behind him, clicking your lock back into place before standing straight, hands falling to his side.

The rush of standing in your room crashes over him like a wave, dizzy and disoriented as he takes you in.

He can’t believe he’s here.

In your room.

It doesn’t feel real, an out-of-body experience. A dream. His dream.

He doesn’t dare move for a full minute, breathing heavily as he fidgeted in his spot.

When he finally works up the courage to move, he inches himself towards your captivating things. A gloved finger grazes across your dresser as he inspects the belongings scattered on its surface.

He picks up a perfume, carefully uncapping it and bringing it up to his nose. With a deep inhale, his eyes flutter shut as he takes the scent of you in.

Immediate warmth pools in the pit of his stomach, already straining against the give in his pants. He spritzes into the air, the sun shining through the slats in your blinds catching on the cloud of mist. He’s hoping your scent will linger with him during his stay. He snaps the cap on with a satisfying pop and ensures he places it down exactly where he found it, cautious to leave little indication of his visit.

A shimmer catches his attention, eyes drawn to a dainty necklace. Two fingers lift it in the air, letting its reflection sparkle while he inspects the metal. He wants to put it in his pocket, a little trinket of his visit. Something to remind him that it wasn’t a dream. A piece of you to bring him comfort whenever he’s away from you. A good luck charm.

He resists the urge, placing it back on the dresser in a pile of intricate looped chains.

Your hairbrush is next, shaky fingers wrapping around the handle. His thumb skims over the bristles, watching them through half-lidded eyes as they rhythmically spring back into place. He inspects the glossy stray strands left behind in a tangled mess, imagining you gliding the brush through your gorgeous hair, your fingers following in its wake as you hum a soft tune.

He’s setting all your things down carefully, not only because he doesn’t want to leave evidence behind, but because he knows the worth of your priceless treasures.

He leans down, giving him a closer view of a polaroid taped to the edge of your mirror. You and a friend, eyes crinkled with big cheesy smiles plastered on your faces, arms wrapped around each other in a close embrace. Konig finds himself smiling at the photo, touching the border with the pad of his finger. He wishes that was him next to you, him you were embracing tightly, him you were happy just to sit next to each other on a night out.

He steadily slides a dresser drawer out, mindful to the sound of wood scraping against itself. Inside he finds your pajamas. He pulls his gloves off with his teeth, reaching in to stroke the material with his knuckle.

He grabs the shirt on top, oversized and well-worn. Broken in and softened over hundreds of restful nights. He brings it to his face and takes another inhale, getting high off the smell of your fabric softener and the image of you drowning in the shirt.

Once you’re in his grasp, he’ll make sure you only sleep in his shirts, liebe. Exposed thighs and legs peeking out from beneath his shirt that barely clings to your shoulders. A clear representation of the size difference between you two. A reminder to you of just how small and powerless you are compared to him.

He brushes the fabric against his stubbled jaw to know what it would feel like to rest his head on your shoulder. To bury his face into your chest after a long day. To rest his head on your stomach while you comb your fingers through his hair.

He wants to take it with him. Cut eye holes and replace his hood with it so that he can wear your shirt over his head every day, high off your scent as he inhales you in with each breath he takes.

He gently folds the shirt and puts it back into its place, closing the drawer before moving on to another. He thumbs through the rest of your clothes until he gets to a drawer that makes him freeze, heart stopping and fingers still laced around the handle of your dresser drawer.

Your panties.

His cock is at full attention now, painfully hard and leaking precum. Trembling hands make a slow descent, meticulously choosing his favorite. He holds them up to get a better look, picturing you filling them out, just as you were last night. The lower half of your ass peeking out to tease him. He didn’t think he would ever be jealous over scraps of cotton, but he knows these panties have kissed your perfect cunt and soaked up your arousal, everything he was entitled to.

He can’t help himself this time, liebe.

You have to understand that he can’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

A reward, for all of the hard work he’s poured into you. For everything he’s sacrificed for you.

He stuffs your panties into his underwear, casual and discreet, as if he were stealing them in front of a crowd. He even looks side to side, just to make sure no one was watching over his shoulder. The feeling of your panties pressed up against his cock had him throbbing, staining the fabric a shade darker with precum. With a slight twitch of his hips, the head of his cock forces against the bundled cloth, electricity sparking through his lower half. He swallows hard, mouth turned cotton.

Konig’s getting intoxicated off of you, less gentle when he rummages through your nightstand. His arousal is taking control now, he’s desperate to uncover more of your dirty little secrets.

He holds a sharp breath, lips parting when he uncovers your vibrator. A deep purple and molded into the shape of bunny ears.

There’s a twinge of jealousy, accompanied by a pull of his lips.

Why use a toy when you can have the real thing, liebe? You don’t need a toy when you have him. He’d pleasure your cunt anytime you ask, lapping at your clit until you’re screaming his name. His tongue coercing orgasm after orgasm until you’re begging for him to stop, tears streaming down your face at the overstimulation. He’ll make you regret even asking him to pleasure you.

The jealousy is shelved when he pictures you on your back, legs spread and displaying your perfect pussy for him. Glistening with your arousal, face twisted in euphoria as you sway your hips on the vibrations. Soft moans would spill from your mouth, breathy whispers of Konig’s name on your tongue.

He stumbles backward onto your bed, hand reaching blindly behind him to find the mattress as he studies the soft silicone of your toy.

He can’t help himself anymore. He’s sorry, liebe. His erection borders on painful, balls swollen and cock begging for release.

It’s your fault.

Putting your promiscuous toys and dainty panties on display for anyone to find.

He lies back on your bed that creaks and flexes under his large stature, his head nestling comfortably on your pillow.

He fumbles the button of his pants, sloppily freeing his cock from the restraint of his waistbands. He wraps the jumbled mess of your panties around his shaft, holding the fabric in place as he grasps his base and steadily pumps himself.

You’re straddling him, cunt grinding against him through drenched panties. Biting your lip while you rock your clit on him, looking down at him with eyes glazed with lust.

He’s had enough of your teasing, liebe. He’ll punish you for working him up like this.

Yanking your panties to the side, lubing the tip of his swollen dick on your slicked rim. Tight grip indenting the flesh of your hips as he forces you down on his thick cock, watching your face twist while you strain to work around his girth. The biggest you’ve ever had. He has to train you, stretch out your tight little cunt so you can handle a good pounding. He’ll ruin that cunt, leave you a gaping cum-filled mess for any other man that dares to try. No one else will ever compare once he’s finished with you.

“Konig, I can’t-”

“You will.”

You’re soaking, liebe, just a wet little mess dripping down his pulsing cock.

His fingers slide down to your thighs, nails digging into you once you’re flush with the base of his cock, eyes fluttering shut as you struggle to take him.

“Look at me.”

You obey like the good girl you’re supposed to be, looking to him with pitiful, pleading eyes as he lifts you, a sharp gasp escaping when he buries fully into you.

He holds you in place with a strict grip, hovering inches above him while he thrusts up, mercilessly fucking your hole like the cock sleeve you are.

Choking on your moans, overstimulated by a mixture of pain and pleasure that has you squeezing around him.

“Take it like a braves Mädchen.”

A sob leaves you as he pounds into you, limply doubling over before he catches your upper arms, propping you up like a rag doll.

“Alle meine. You understand me, brat? All mine.”

A raw cry scratches the back of your throat, tits bouncing relentlessly against your ribs as he tortures your g-spot. An involuntary whimper rhythmically with each thrust, arms sore from Konig’s harsh grasp.

He forces you forward, bending you at your core so he can catch one of your nipples in his mouth with a tight suck. He doesn’t waver from his strict plunges into your cunt as his tongue eagerly circles the sensitive bud. The pleasure amplifies under the stimulation, he can tell by the roll of your eyes and the way you collapse in his arms, hypnotized by his power and stuttering out his name with broken breath. Giving yourself to him.

A brain dead, cock drunk little slut.

His hand snakes around the back of your head to grab a fist full of hair, a stiff yank forcing your neck to crane and pulling him off your tit with a pop. His spit turns cool over your nipple, tightening the pink flesh with a chill down your spine. Nails scratching desperately into his glistened chest, begging for mercy.

You won’t get any from him, little girl.

You’re his.

A toy to dump his cum into, a wet hole for him to ruin, a doll to control.

The clapping of slicked flesh on flesh fills the room, tugging your hair down to keep you from wiggling away from the ruthless fucking. Your swollen clit slaps against his mound with each bottom out, intertwining with the unforgiving pleasure of your abused g-spot and knitting into a cruel euphoria.

“Listen to your pathetic moans. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

The hand gripping your hair releases suddenly, repositioning to clench around your throat, silencing your moans with a threatening squeeze.

Your eyes snap open, an intoxicating fear spread on your features as your eyes beg for release. Pointlessly clawing at his grip, fighting for your stolen breath. He’s addicted to the way your horror steadily builds with each passing second he doesn’t let go.

He waits until your expression loosens, until your eyes cross and you’re seeing double. When he morphs into a blurry figure, floating farther and farther away from you, and the only thing you can possibly focus on is the brutal pounding of your cunt.

He lets you go seconds before you faint, cunt squeezing down on him with each desperate cough for breath. He grabs onto two fistfuls of ass, spreading you apart. Opening that cunt, making sure to fill you to the brim with each slam into you.

“Ko- gn’na cum!”

“Beg for it.”

A desperate, breathless cry tears your throat.

“Please, Konig! Please!”

A hand winds back, full palm returning to give a harsh smack to your ass. When you gasp in surprise, his grip tightens threateningly, voice lowered to a vicious growl.

“Address me properly.”

“Pl-” You’re briefly distracted by the rhythmic pounding, trailing off before he leaves another imprint of his hand on your ass.

“Please, Colonel! I-” The words get stuck in your throat, but your desperation pushes them through, so raw and pleading it doesn’t register to you as your own voice. You let off on a whine, eyes screwing shut while your body is degradingly shaken under the powerful bucks of his hips.

“Do it, brat. Cum.”

He watches your face contort, mouth fully gaped, suddenly radio silent as you convulse on his cock. He doesn’t let up on you, taking advantage of your walls tightening around him.

When your voice returns, you’re squeaking out anguished whimpers, squirming away from the progression into overstimulation.

He doesn’t let up. Your pleasure is nothing but collateral, liebe. He’ll use you until he’s finished. Bully you with his fat cock, ignoring your weak begging and futile attempts to pry yourself from his grasp.

It’s the harsh ripples of his orgasm - the warm droplets of his cum landing on his stomach, the sound of him choking on a hitched breath in the dead silence of your bedroom - that shocks him back into his pathetic reality.

Tensed muscles relax seconds after he’s milked the last of his intense finish, his sweat and shame wrapping him in a suffocating blanket.

He’s defiled you, liebe. A slimy creep, breaking into your sacred space and getting off in your bed. Where you lay your head after a long day, hiding from the world under these cozy covers. He’s tainted the sanctity of an angel’s hollow.

A disgusting, selfish pervert.

He buries his face into your pillow, breathing you in as he catches his breath and wipes away his mess with your panties.

“Tut mir leid.” He whispers into your silken pillowcases. He’s sorry, liebe. He didn’t mean to lose control like this. To let him get this close to you, close enough his depravity bleeds into your personal life. He meant to keep his distance, to keep you safe from him and his degenerative sickness.

But here he is, in your bed, pretending that you’ve welcomed him here. That he was giving you a fucking fit for a whore.

He feels dirty, he wants to shed his skin, to get a fresh start. A life where he never even met you. Where he never gave you full control over him. Where he never succumbed to his atrocious urges.

It’s too late.

You ruined his life.

His best course of action was a shower, to wash away the evidence of his sin and maybe feel clean again. To feel worthy of you again.

To bathe in your scent and take it with him.

To steal just a sliver of your light and wear it proudly.

The warm water soothes his aching muscles, always sore after a long week of strenuous work. He lets the water take him away, calming himself as much as he was capable under the circumstances.

He wonders what you’re up to. Where you’re at, what mess you’ve gotten yourself into without his supervision. Probably in that slutty dress and giving your attention to undeserving men. Flirting with them like a common whore.

The scent of your shampoo wafting in the hot steam eases his racing thoughts, closing his eyes while he massages his hair.

He imagines you’re in the shower with him, insisting to scrub him. He has to lean over so you can reach his head. Gently scratching his scalp, giving him a tingling sensation as you wash him clean from your tiptoes.

You’d scrub his body next, making a careful loop around his neck. Gently soaping his chest, lingering around his strong biceps. Feeling the strength that protects you every day. You’ll slide down to his stomach, attention on his tight abdominal muscles.

It’s his cock you pay the most attention to, stoking him clean, your other hand massaging bubbles onto his balls.

Such a good girl, liebe.

Taking care of him after a hard day.

When you’re done with him, he’d scrub you down, rough hands squeezing soft soapy tits.

He’d take his time with you, making sure to give every inch of you the care it deserves before flipping you around and fucking you ruthlessly against the shower wall, water clapping obnoxiously as he clashes into your thighs.

Such a good girl, liebe.

Taking care of him after a hard day.

Konig finishes his shower, wiping himself down with one of your towels before wrapping it around his waist.

He spends some time poking around your bathroom cabinets, curiously reading the labels on bottles of medicines. Helping himself to your Q-tips, your skin care, your deodorant.

He’s getting closer to the perfect mixture of your scent, liebe. He’ll carry it with him as long as he can, surrounding himself in a cloud of you.

When he’s done drying off & redressing himself, he carefully folds his towel and tucks it into the middle of your stack of clean towels. He bites his lip at the thought of you using the same towel that dried him.

Once he leaves the bathroom, he’s ready to poke through the rest of your things. He starts with the three sliding drawers that support the right side of your desk.

Pens, highlighters, chargers, scissors, tape.

A notebook?

He prays it’s a diary, a glimpse into your internal dialogue. He runs a finger down the thin metal coil of the spiral edge before flipping the cover.

He’s enamored with your handwriting, unique and flawed in its own wonderful way. It crafts inked scribblings documenting your time in training. Meticulously written notes on the processes of your position. He skims through the pages, filled to the brim with dry information.

You’re brilliant, liebe. The amount of knowledge that it takes to fill your shoes speaks to how intelligent you are.

He stops on a page with doodles in the corner, touching the hint of you peeking through dull instructional pages.

When he’s satisfied he plops the notebook back into its drawer and continues his search.

Batteries, a flashlight, a spool of thread.

A book.

He stops to read its spine, running his fingers over the raised title on the cover.

A romance novel?

A dark romance novel.

His heart skips a beat as he flips the book over and reads the summary.

You’re just as filthy and deviant as him, aren’t you liebe?

This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

You want him to follow you, to control you, to dominate you. You want him, don’t you?

He settles onto your bed, back flush with the covers as he nestles into your pillow. He peels the cover back, swiping through the introductory pages with his thumb, eyes attentively soaking in the words of the first chapter.

He’s determined to figure out your ideal man, your perfect idea of romance. This is his guide, he’s sure. Exactly how he should treat you to earn your affection.

The first chapter details a young woman who had finally built her perfect little life. Engaged to a supportive, loving, and devoted fiancé and settled into a cozy home in the suburbs surrounding the city where she worked. Working her dream career, it doesn’t pay much - but isn’t she oh so happy?

The first chapter lulls him, losing interest during the wholesome exposition.

He sets the open book on his chest, arm propping behind his head as he memorizes your room. He closes his eyes, absentmindedly stroking your cozy blankets. Giving a pleased hum as he nuzzles his head further into your pillow.

He wonders what it would be like to fall asleep next to you. To have you nestled into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed to his chest, arm draped over his torso. Flat on your back, his head on your chest as he listens to your heartbeat and soft snoring. Curled on your side, your ass pressed into his cock in a spoon, letting him grind into you as you drift off.

It’s the rattling of your lock that wakes him, his eyes snapping open in a panic and finding your window, sun no longer shining through the gaps in your blinds. He can hear your muffled voice through the door, belongings brushing against the wood as you struggle with your keys. He can’t believe he’s let the time slip through his fingers.

It’s your fault.

He hasn’t gotten a full night's rest in weeks.

It’s an intense scramble to clean up after himself, hands fumbling for your displaced book, vibrator, and soiled panties. He stumbles over his feet in a last ditch attempt to have you avoid spotting him, hoping the sound of your wardrobe door sliding closed is quiet enough to be concealed by the sound of your entrance.

He’s dead-still in his cramped position, terrified he’ll rattle the hangers that held your day clothes surrounding him. You flick on the lamp, a line of light casts a vertical strip on his face, pupil dilating as he peers through the gap in the closet’s doors. His heart is pounding in his chest, loud enough that he’s sure you can hear it.

He has never been this close to you before.

“Look, I know I’m usually chill about shit like this but that was not cool, dude.” You’re talking into your phone, pinched between your raised shoulder and cheek. “You can’t just bail like that without saying anything, my clothes were at your place.”

You take a deep breath, setting your wallet and keys down before kicking off your uncomfortable shoes. Konig’s leering gaze finds your ass as you bend over, one hand gripping the wood of the dresser to steady yourself. You do look good in that dress, liebe. Plump full thighs on display for him, skin tight cut teasing every inviting curve.

Your voice is softened when you speak again, “I’m worried about you, okay? I didn’t like that guy’s vibe. Just, let me know you’re…”

You trail off as you turn around, freezing in your place.

Your attention was caught by the soft blue dress with the intricate azure and yellow flowers, displayed on a hanger Konig had hung on your bedpost.

His gentle nudge.

Shit.

You freeze for a suffocating four seconds, face stone cold as you process the sight. Konig can see your gears turning, his face pinched in hot regret.

“…okay. Call me back.” You whisper, tone no longer strict with annoyance.

You quickly end your call before blindly placing your phone on the dresser behind you, stare locked on to the dress.

“Did I…?” You mumble under your breath, slowly stepping forward and reaching a careful hand out to touch the dress. Your brows furrowed, features drenched in confusion.

You look over your shoulder, and Konig swallows hard. This is it, you’re going to search for the intruder and find him. He’s in for a world of trouble- and that’s only if you don’t kill him first.

Your head turns back to the dress, now holding it with two hands, hem lifting off the floor.

Put it on, liebe.

The fabric slides through your finger as you let it fall into place, returning to your phone and swiping at its screen.

You raise the phone to your ear again, free hand rubbing your fingers together in a fidget. You sway in your spot, eyes darting nervously around the room while waiting through a painfully long set of rings.

“Hey - uh, Lieutenant.” You nervously clear your throat, “Sorry to bother you on the weekend- something kind of weird happened and I uh- I just have a question for you.” You let out a small nervous laugh, “Sorry. Bye.”

You quickly hang up, cheeks flushed as you press the side of your phone to your forehead in a clenched fist. Cringing at yourself for your awkward voicemail with a curse under your breath.

Why is Ghost always the first person you call at the first sign of trouble?

Konig is supposed to be the one who protects you, who keeps you safe.

He has to force his jaw open to keep his teeth from grinding.

You’re fucking him, aren’t you?

It’s all making sense now. Of course Konig hasn’t been able to catch you two in the act, the only way you’d be able to get away with it is by keeping it a secret. If anyone found out about your affair you’d both be discharged. Sneaking around and being intimate when no one’s watching, getting off on the forbidden love of a subordinate and a superior.

Konig can fulfill that fantasy too, y’know.

Konig can see your mind racing from your cramped wardrobe, pacing in your spot while you fidget with your nails. There is just enough doubt on your features, just enough doubt that he thinks he might get away with it. Gaslight you into thinking maybe you did buy the dress. Maybe you made a trip back home in between the mall and the subway. Maybe ‘bad vibe guy’ spiked your drink and made you lose a chunk of your evening.

As soon as Konig’s thighs start to burn from the contorted half-squat he’s in to fit in your wardrobe, there’s a knock on the door. You take a sharp breath, head harshly turning towards the sound. You freeze again, lips parted and eyes squinted in unease.

Another rap at the door, followed by your name spoken in a familiar voice. “You in?”

Ghost.

Got your message and came running to your rescue. Tricking you into accepting him as your knight in shining armor.

His face twitches at the way your shoulders relax when you hear his voice, holding back a smile as you rush to open the door.

“Lieutenant.”

Untelling eyes look you up and down, and you follow his gaze to your outfit, almost surprised that you are still wearing that filthy dress you‘ve been parading yourself in.

That’s why you bought it, isn’t it? You picked it out to show your curves off to him, the professor to your little schoolgirl crush.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry Lieutenant. I-”You let out a nervous laugh as you look over his unreadable face. “I didn’t know you were going to, um, stop by.”

Liar.

“Nice dress.” He says, impossible to tell if he’s being genuine or making fun of you. Konig’s not sure which he prefers, but his jaw shakes at the very sound of his voice.

“I just got back from a night out.” You explain, words pouring quickly in a desperate attempt to save character.

“I can tell.” He says, flat and gravely. He gives you grace by changing the subject, eyes peering over you and scanning your room, “Got your message.”

“Oh, yeah. No, it’s uh, it’s probably fine. Sorry to put you out.”

“It was quite the journey from across the hall.”

Your voice raises an octave when you try to sound forced casual, “You didn’t go in my room, did you? It’s just, you’re the only one with a key.”

The thought of Ghost having a key to your place makes him sick to his stomach. He’s probably already been here, already dug through your things to get his filthy hands all over your belongings.

He could sneak into your room at any moment, liebe. Inviting him to break in and take advantage of you.

An eyebrow raises, the extent of his expression, “No.”

Your fingers rub together again, “Are the guys- are they hazing me or something? I mean, it’s fine if they are. I get it, new guy and all- but I just need to know before I lose my mind.”

“What’s going on?” He asks, cutting straight to the chase when he hears the distress creeping in on your rambled words.

You clear your throat, looking over your shoulder, “That dress.” You say, looking to it and trailing off.

“Pretty.” He says, not straying from his uninterested tone.

Konig’s face twitches when Ghost compliments the dress.

It’s not for him.

“Yes- it is.”

“Having a fashion show?”

“No,” You give another timid laugh before your nerves make your face slink. “I didn’t buy it?” You finish on a high, unsure note, “The dress wasn’t here when I left, right? And then I come home - and here’s the dress.”

“An unusual form of hazing.”

“No, no- that’s not the weirdest part.” You point to it again, “I went shopping today, and that dress - I saw the dress, I stopped to look at it. That exact dress. I didn’t buy it, at least- I think I didn’t buy it.” You clench a hand into a fist, “I’m sure I didn’t buy it. I just got home and there it was.”

Ghost doesn’t speak, just looks down his nose at you.

Your hand flops dramatically to your side, head turning away, “You think I’m crazy.”

He says the first thing all night you can tell he means.

“I believe you.”

Your eyes perk up, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The same way you had looked to Konig in his dream. The same spark of appreciation that Konig was entitled to.

And you’re giving it to Simon fucking Riley for doing the bare minimum.

Konig’s the one who got you the dress, liebe.

Ghost doesn’t give you gifts, Ghost doesn’t love you like Konig does.

He shifts in your doorway, arms crossing and head slightly tilted to the side. “You think someone broke into your quarters?”

“I… guess? I’m more worried that I am losing it. That I did buy it and I just, I just forgot.”

He takes a moment to analyze you, skimming over your nightclub attire before finding your face again, “You drinking?”

You hold a hand out, almost like you’re physically stopping his train of thought, “I know what you’re thinking, I only had two. I’m a lightweight, but, c’mon. Not enough to forget.”

He doesn’t say anything, making his silent judgments through half-lidded eyes.

Your tightly pressed fingers raise to touch your lip.

“Oh, I’m losing it, aren’t I?” You say with a whine, hand falling dejectedly to your side.

“You’re not losing it, soldier.”

“I’m losing it.”

“No. Listen to me.” He uncrosses his arms to hold a finger in your direction, “You’re not losing it.”

Konig can’t believe he’s talking to you like this. Stern, strict, and commanding you like Konig should be doing. Squashing the doubt that would safeguard his plan.

“The boys are probably just fucking with you. I’ll talk to them, yeah?”

You nod, slow at first but then more assuredly, “Yes, yeah.” You close your eyes, words relaxing with a sigh, “You’re right. Sorry, again, for bothering you.”

“No bother.” His head tilts again, “You alright?”

“All-left, apparently.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I don’t want to take your time. I’m okay.”

“I don’t mind.”

Don’t give in, liebe. He’s just looking for an excuse to leer at you in that dress. To come into your sacred room, to get a look at your precious things.

Your eyes flick to the floor before back to him, “Ah, okay. Sure.”

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” You ask when you turn away from him, giving him space to come in.

You’re always so thoughtful. Ghost doesn’t deserve you.

“No.” Ghost steps in while carefully eyeing your room. He inspects your window, nonchalantly checking over the locks before tugging at it to make sure it’s secured.

“No fun Saturday night plans, Lieutenant?” You asked with a cheeky smile, smoothing out your blanket to sit on your bed, feet dangling off the side.

“Not as fun as yours.” He says, eyes falling on your dress and lingering there a little too long for Konig’s liking. Ghost straightens out, leaning against your dresser to face you.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, adjusting the sleeve of your shoulder, “A friend dragged me on a night out.” You move to stand, moving towards the dresser Ghost blocked, “Not my usual getup. I’ll change.”

“Don’t feel obligated on my account.” He says dryly.

He doesn’t have your modesty in mind, liebe. Looking at you like you’re a piece of meat. He just wants you on display for him, a trophy.

You look at him, briefly attempting to decipher an underlying meaning of his statement. You glance to the guarded drawers before backing up to your spot on the bed. You tug the bottom of your dress down, eyes fixed on the ceiling as a stiff silence falls over you three.

“My friend, uh, set me up on a blind date.” You say after a clear of your throat, desperate to rid the awkward pause. You give him a small laugh, “It was terrible.”

“That so?”

You kick your foot, smiling at the ground, “Yeah, a friend of this guy she’s really into. All he talked about was basketball, and he didn’t ask me a single question about myself. I don’t think he even knew what my name was.” You roll your eyes, “And a bit too touchy-feely if you ask me.”

Konig’s sorry, liebe. That he wasn’t there to protect you. The thought of you being all alone on a terrible date makes him sick to his stomach. He’s sorry he’s allowed this to happen. He gave you too much slack on your leash, he should have kept you reined in.

“Must be difficult to gauge a woman’s comfort level when NC State is doing so poorly this season.”

You snort, happy to lighten the tension, “They’re actually doing pretty well. 4-1, apparently.” You say with a roll of your eyes.

Ghost gives an amused scoff, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve ever gotten from him. It catches your attention, and to his dismay Konig watches you purse your lips to hide a pleased smile.

Kick him out already.

“My friend ditched me, so I had to sit through all of the strategies the Celtics should have implemented last year, and she never even came back.”

“Mm, abandoned the buddy system. No good.”

“No good! Thank you. I had to walk home in stupid shoes I borrowed that don’t fit.”

“Now that’s just torture. Maybe we should start implementing that in boot camp.”

You deliver the laugh drenched in sarcasm, “Hah hah.”

“Next time, call me. We’ll do a full EVAC.”

That was Konig’s job.

You roll your eyes again, “I can handle myself.”

He gives a shrug and a shake of his head, “Don’t count out the buddy system.”

You pull your legs up on the bed next to you, thighs pressed together and bent almost underneath you. You look like you’re on a fucking casting couch, peering up at Ghost through thick eyelashes with those doe eyes, just begging for him to pin you down and expose what little of you was hidden under that dress.

“You really don’t have to stay.”

His eyes find the blue dress, still hanging on the bedpost, before he looks back to you, “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

The faintest blush spreads on your face, hesitating in your response.

“Smoke?” He asks after a few seconds, much to your relief.

“God, yes. Let me change quick.” You commit to shooing him from your dresser this time, pulling out the first shirt on top. The shirt Konig had touched to his cheek hours before, the unknowing and indirect touch filling him with a satisfying thrill. You grab a pair of sweatpants and disappear into the bathroom, leaving Konig to keep a close watch on Ghost through the crack in his wardrobe.

He starts eyeing your possessions, unworthy eyes befouling your priceless things.

Konig has to close his eyes to rid the sight. Stifling the urge to reveal himself and snap Ghost’s spine over his knee. He hates him, hates how he’s always coercing you from Konig’s safety, sneaking you away for the chance to get his hands on you. He’s never loathed someone more.

You’re just an empty-headed bimbo who bats her eyes and whores herself out for any man who pays attention to you. You’re too stupid to realize just how slimy he is.

Konig opens his eyes with the scrape of your bathroom door, watching Ghost follow you out to the hall.

Konig sighs a long breath once you’re both out of sight, he doesn’t know how long he’s been holding it. His fingers grip your things like he's trying to destroy them.

Fucking Ghost.

At least you changed out of that dress. The way Ghost’s attention drew to your chest and legs at every opportunity left him tensed in a seething rage.

Konig finally moves, taking his chance to stuff your cum-soaked panties and vibrator into his waistband, flexing the fingers that cramped up from his awkwardly clasped hands. He sets the book at his feet, popping his knuckles and stretching his legs while he considers the choice he has to make.

Does he sneak out now? You hadn’t suspected the wardrobe, now that you’ve changed you shouldn’t be digging in your closet until morning. He’s sure he’s sufficiently camouflaged, but there’s still the risk you’ll find him. This is his window to escape without consequence. He’d be able to supervise your smoke break, but he wouldn’t be able to sneak back in to watch the rest of your evening.

It’s the thought that Ghost might follow you back into your room, that he might try to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state, that keeps him in his spot.

Dread pools in his stomach when he’s away from you, knowing you’re under a predator’s stare. He’s probably got his hands all over you right now. He’s seen your thighs that beg for touch, your tits popping out of that dress that invites groping, a waist asking for a strong grip. Flirting desperately and using that charm that comes naturally to invite him to take you.

He’s stealing the attention Konig was owed. Basking in your light and adoration while he has to hide in the shade, longing for your soft warmth instead of this heat of irritability that boils under his skin. He pushes your day clothes from him in frustration, face twitching as he sifts through all of the worst case scenarios.

It takes you too long to return, Konig’s blackhole of obsessive thoughts intensifying with each minute you’re tangled in Ghost’s web.

“I hope not.” You say as you return, the smell of smoked tobacco clouding the room and singeing Konig’s nose.

“Here.”

Konig’s face pulls when Ghost takes the dress from you, manhandling and wrinkling the delicate fabric. It’s nauseating to watch him lay hands on Konig’s gift.

You’re supposed to wear his dress, liebe. Burn that slutty black dress, and accept the guidance you need. Give him even the slightest bit of control from you.

The rejection stings, turning him weak in the knees as the blood drains from his face. It tears his chest wide open watching you give his gift away like it was nothing. His face burns with humiliation, the prick of betrayal drying the back of his throat.

This is what he gets for going out of his way for you? For giving you a token of his affection? For the love and care he’s poured into you?

Fuck you.

You don’t get to make him feel this way. You don’t get to run from him when he knows what’s best for you.

“You want this back when I’m done?”

“Uhm,” You stare at it for a moment, the corner of your lip perking up ever so slightly, “Sure, yeah. It’s uh, it really is pretty.”

Konig swallows, eyebrows pinching and elated grin immediately plastered on his face.

You do like it?

Oh, liebe. He’s sorry he doubted you.

You do want him.

You can be a good girl for him, accept Konig’s redirection. You want to wear his dress for him, you want Konig to own you and teach you how to behave.

He can’t wait to see you in it.

“Will do.”

“Thanks for uh, y’know.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Night Lt.”

“Goodnight.”

When the door snaps shut behind you, Ghost sent packing, and Konig’s grin spreads.

You crawl into your bed, the same bed Konig had defiled hours earlier.

For thirty minutes you scroll on your phone, but Konig is happy just to watch your facial expressions as you react to the things on your screen. You watch silly videos, occasionally giggling at the content.

This part is just for him.

It sounds so wonderful to hear your laugh, liebe. He imagines it’s him making you giggle, a blush and coy smile as a result of a joke he made.

This is his favorite part of the day, when you settle in and he can watch you be your genuine self. It’s comforting to be with you while you unwind, he knows this is what it will be like once he has you, how you’d spend the evenings once you’re together.

And he gets to have his good girl all to himself.

The shower is the hardest part.

In addition to praying the evidence of his shower has fully drained, he knows you’re just a few feet away, completely naked and soaking wet. His cock twitches at the thought, still sensitive from his orgasm.

You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?

Teasing him like this.

He wants to follow you into the shower, see if he can peek at you from over the shower curtain. Offer to scrub you down, groping you like you’ve been asking for. Fuck you, how you deserve to be fucked.

His brow quirks when he spots your phone resting on the nightstand, charging after a long day out.

He waits until the sounds of the water hitting the ceramic loses rhythm, droplets now flowing down your body instead of raining on the tub.

He’s got time.

He takes a deep inhale before working open the wardrobe doors as stealthily as he can, cursing the creak of the wood under his shifting weight.

Mindful footsteps get him to your nightstand, shaking hands picking up your phone. With a push of your lock button the screen is illuminated, and his breath catches. He can’t believe you’ve left your secrets unattended for anyone to steal. How careless of you.

Your background is adorable, he can’t help but smile at the glimpse into an expression of your personality.

He swipes at the screen and his smile falls flat at the demand for a passcode.

Why do you always have to make things so difficult for him?

He huffs in frustration before he locks your device, using the dark screen and light from the lamp to search for fingerprints.

There’s a bunch towards the bottom, evidence of your fingers typing precious messages to your loved ones.

He needed those messages.

Konig thinks he can tell which smudges are your passcode. He’s got 6 possible numbers for a 4-digit code, and no way to tell which order.

He curses under his breath. He’s looking for a pattern. A birthday, a year, a sequence.

He’s got nothing.

You couldn’t have made it 1234?

He returns your phone to its spot. He’ll figure out your passcode, liebe. He’ll wait until he’s close enough to watch you enter it, get his fingers on it when you’re inevitably acting careless.

You don’t get to hide things from him anymore, liebe.

He’s earned it. You’ve lost the privilege of privacy.

This is a new level of immoral behavior, and now that he’s this close - he refuses to distance himself from you.

A rush so thrilling he can’t ignore it, a newly conquered high he’s never dared to risk, without the willpower to walk away from it.

It’s too late for you, liebe. He’s bleeding into you now, his sickness spreading into your life and infecting you like ink on cloth.

You’re his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

His (Part One)

Somethings Borrowed - Another Stalker!Konig Fic

The Girl Who Conquered the Mountain [Hunger Games AU] - Outcast!König x Reader

Meine Perle - Octo!Konig

Masterlist

[hollybyrde]

It's Only Forever

It has been an absolute joy to write this big bang fic over the last few months, and I'm SO excited to finally get to share it with the world! I could not have done it without my amazing beta @penny00dreadful, always going above and beyond the call of duty to cheer me on, and help make this story the best it could be. Thanks as well to @hitlikehammers, and of course my official unofficial cheerleader @pearynice!

Featuring art in this chapter also by @penny00dreadful!

[Penny Art Link] and @/SissayeRys [Art Post Link]

R: Mature | WC: 4427 | | Ch 1/8 | Read on AO3

Chapter 1: As The World Falls Down

Steve was running late getting home.

Literally running, because his last ever basketball practice had gone long with everyone wanting to say goodbye to the departing seniors, and he was supposed to be home an hour ago to babysit his little brother.

Not that anyone asked if he wanted to watch the stupid nerd, It’d just come to be expected of him. He'd run into a bit of a dry spell lately as far as dating went, and grown tired of playing third wheel to Tommy and Carol, but after one too many Friday and Saturday nights spent at home, his Mom and Gary seemed to have decided he was now at their disposal every weekend to watch Dustin while they went out for their fancy dinner parties. 

Which he wasn’t bitter about, or anything. 

It’d been overcast all afternoon, the smell in the air all but promising rain, and just as he was cutting through the last backyard with his own house coming into view, the sky opened up, soaking through him to the bone in seconds.

“You’re late.” His mother said, scowling from the top of the porch steps with her arms crossed over her chest. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Sorry,” Steve grumbled. He’d forgotten to plug in his phone last night and its battery had died by fourth period. “It’s not my fault. Practice–”

“Well don’t stand out there in the rain, you’ll drip all over my nice clean floors.” She cut off his explanation, turning on her heel and striding into the house.

It was a little late for that. Water was already running from his sopping shorts down his legs, but Steve still rushed along behind her, kicking his mud-coated sneakers off by the door to try and minimize the damage.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Steven. Your stepfather and I go out very rarely–”

Lie.

Steve rolled his eyes at her back as she turned to grab her handbag off the foyer table. 

“–And you know I only expect you to babysit when it won’t interfere with your own plans.”

“Like you care about my plans,” Steve mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

She looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose as she adjusted the purse resting on her shoulder. “Go take a shower and check on your brother. He's in his room. Gary left some cash on the kitchen table so you boys can order a pizza for dinner. We should be back around midnight.”

Steve nodded curtly and turned to head up the stairs, but paused, looking back over his shoulder when she called to him again. 

“Oh, and Steven?”

He managed to hold in his sigh, but only just. 

“Yes, mother?”

“Don’t indulge him too much about that fantasy game, whatever it’s called. He’ll never live up to his potential with his head stuck in the clouds like that.”

No problem there. 

Steve had no interest in Dustin’s Dungeons and Dorks game anyway.

Again, he simply nodded, and this time watched her leave, waiting until the front door closed behind her before taking the steps up to his room. 

As much as he loathed babysitting, it was infinitely better than being dragged along as a show and tell object, like he’d been in the past. A pretty trophy to prove that divorce or not, she was still the perfect mother. Look, I raised the co-captain of the swim team! The captain of the basketball team! He’s sure to get into an elite university one day, just you wait and see!

And sure, it was a lot, but she just wanted what was best for him, right? Even if it was a little… suffocating at times.

But, in the end Steve hadn’t done that—had he? Nope! Here he was, set to graduate high school in just a few short weeks, and had gotten exactly zero acceptance letters.

A “gap year”, they called it. He was taking a gap year to discover himself, to travel. That was the lie his mom and Gary would tell their friends when asked which Ivy League school their eldest son would be attending in the fall.

It was kinder than the truth, that his GPA and test scores were no match for the candidates he was up against, no after how hard he’d studied, that he hadn’t caught the eye of even one athletics recruiter. 

He was good, but he wasn’t the best—in anything. 

He couldn’t even attend the local community college with Tommy and Carol to fill his time. The deadline to apply had come and gone, with his mom and step-dad staunchly refusing to let him submit the paperwork. No son of theirs would lower himself to attending the public school equivalent of higher education. 

It left Steve in a rough spot. His chances at getting into what his parents considered a good school wouldn’t be any better in a year's time, and amidst his failure he felt like he’d been written off, his mom and Gary now focusing all their efforts on their youngest son, the one who still had the chance at a proper future.

As much as it pained Steve to admit, he actually liked the kid, loved him even, but he couldn't help feeling a little jealous about the fact that Dustin still had time. He had his whole adolescence ahead of him, while Steve felt stuck, and more than a little lost. 

It was the one shred of truth in his mom’s gap year nonsense. Steve did want to discover himself—yearned for it. Eighteen years on this earth and he didn’t have the first clue who he was, or who he wanted to be. He’d been too busy trying to live up to others’ expectations.

Once upstairs Steve showered quickly, threw on a fresh pair of sweatpants and his favorite yellow sweater, and crossed the hall to Dustin’s room. 

“Steve!” The kid’s face lit up the second he came through the door. “Hey, do you remember that campaign I was telling you about?”

Steve raised his head to the ceiling, praying for patience.

Here we fucking go already.

Dustin barreled ahead, undeterred by his lack of response. “You know, the one with the goblins and the Goblin King who comes to this plane and steals children away? Well, technically he only comes when someone wishes for it. So I guess it’s not exactly stealing but that’s part of the trick, right? And–” 

“Yeah, yeah, I vaguely remember that I guess.” Steve finally jumped in waving a hand, knowing if he didn’t Dustin would keep going on-and-on until the polar ice caps melted, and the sea level rose to the point that their house was underwater.

The kid grinned broadly. “I’ve been working hard on it every night this week, and I think it’s finally ready to play! What do you think?!”

“You want—me—to play your nerd game?” 

Dustin’s smile faltered around the edges. “Yeah, I mean, I know it would be better to play with more people, but I thought—”

“You think more players would make this appealing to me somehow?” Steve asked, incredulous. He crossed his arms, only to drop them back down to his sides immediately, shuddering with the realization that he was doing a perfect imitation of his mother.

“But, when I told you about it before you said it was cool!”

Steve sighed. He probably had said that, but in his defense he hadn’t actually been listening. 

Time for a new tactic then. 

“Dustin, you know how our parents feel about this stuff.”

“Why do you always take their side?!” The younger boy shouted.

“I-I don’t!” Steve sputtered. “They just want what’s best for you, and–”

Dustin scoffed. “That’s bullshit!”

“Buddy, come on–”

“No! You just want them to ruin my life like they did yours!"

Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen red so fast. He balled his hands into fists, fuming, and turned to leave without another word.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it!” Dustin called after him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Don’t go, stay and play with me… please?”

“I wish your stupid game was real. I wish the goblins would come and take you away!” Steve hissed through gritted teeth before slamming the door behind him. 

Was it childish? Yes. But at least in his effort to have the last word, he’d gotten the creatures’ name right. 

He was pretty sure.

Steve ran down the stairs, stomping his feet on every step along the way in another juvenile display of anger that he hoped Dustin could hear. 

Itching for something—anything to distract himself from the words Dustin had thrown in his face, he slid some shoes on and took the trash out to the curb for morning pick up, the rain having slowed while he was in the shower. It did nothing to slow the spiraling of his thoughts.

Was his life really ruined? 

Had he made a mistake in following his mother’s direction?

Or was it his own fault for not working harder, not being good enough? 

Was it too late to try for something different?

Steve puttered around the kitchen for a while, killing a little more time before finally calling to order their pizza, and when he felt like he’d cooled down enough to not throttle his kid brother, went back upstairs to check on him. 

“Alright, the pizza should be here in thirty, and If you want, I guess we can play until—” Steve began as he opened the bedroom door, but cut himself off mid-sentence, realizing that Dustin wasn’t sitting where he’d left him. 

“Dustin?” He called out, stepping further into the room. The kid had to be in there somewhere.

A thump over by the bed caught his attention, and Steve turned to see a sizable lump wriggling under the comforter. “Gotcha, you little shit.” He whispered, tiptoeing over as quietly as possible before flinging the covers off to reveal… nothing.

How had the shrimp pulled off that trick?

Steve scrambled around to the other side of the bed, convinced he’d find the boy crouched beside it on the floor, or even hiding under it, but he was nowhere to be found. 

“Okay,” Steve chuckled nervously. The hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention, and his upper lip was starting to sweat. “I give up, you can come out now!”

A sudden and heart-stoppingly loud crack of thunder made him jump, startled, and a flash of lightning seconds later, followed by the room falling into darkness around him as the power went out, was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

“Shit.” 

Steve ran over to the light switch on the wall, flicking it up and down to no avail. His pulse thrummed loudly in his ears, panic threatening to overtake him, but not quite loud enough to drown out the distant sound of giggles somewhere in the shadows. 

“This isn’t funny, Dustin!” He shouted in the vague direction of the sound.

A muffled bang, and a crash on the opposite side of the room had him swinging his head around again. How was the kid making it sound like he was everywhere, and also nowhere at once?!

“Aren’t you getting a little old for hide and seek?!” 

Steve lunged for the old bay window that took up almost the entirety of one wall of Dustin’s room, intent on throwing the drapes open to let in some moonlight, but before he could reach it the window burst open, letting in a rush of cool wind, sending the curtains billowing and the shadows dancing around him. 

From one moment to the next Steve blinked, and where before there was nothing but the damp window ledge, now stood a boy the likes of which he’d never seen before. 

A riot of dark, unruly curls fell around a pale, pretty face. His deep brown eyes were lined in charcoal, with a silver shimmer painted artfully above, accentuating their already otherworldly beauty. He wore a top of leather armor, like something straight out of medieval times, or one of Dustin’s fantasy novels, and skin tight pants that looked buttery soft, hugging the contours of his hips, calves, and thighs, as if they were painted on, drawing special attention to a certain rather prominent attribute that had Steve looking quickly away, his cheeks positively flaming. Slung over it all was a long cloak that glittered in the dim light. The color so dark blue that it was almost black, with a high fluted collar.

Steve swallowed hard, feeling suddenly lightheaded, like he was about to pass out.

“W-who are you?” He asked.

“You know who I am.” A deep, husky voice emanated from the stunning figure’s throat. “After all, you are the one who called for me.” 

“The Goblin King?” Steve's mouth fell open, his own voice full of doubt and disbelief.

Not only for the fact that none of it was supposed to be real. It was just a stupid game, wasn’t it? But shocked too because goblins were meant to be small, grotesque, monstrous creatures, as far as he knew, and none of those were words he’d use to describe the walking wet dream who’d just broken in through his little brother’s window. 

The Goblin King’s plush lips spread into a wide grin. 

“Not what you were expecting?”

Steve mentally shook himself. He had to focus, Dustin was missing for fuck’s sake. “What did you do to my little brother?”

“Exactly what you asked me to do. I took him away.”

“B-but I didn't mean it!”

The boy gave a gallic shrug. “What’s said is said, sweetheart.”

Though he knew it was only meant to be condescending, a thrill ran up Steve’s spine involuntarily at the pet name. He pushed the feeling aside, shouting, “Bring him back!”

The Goblin King pursed his lips, unimpressed.

Steve cleared his throat. “Um, please?”

“Go back to your life, Steve. Hang out with your friends, play the good son again. Forget about your brother.”

“I can’t!”

“Sure you can! Look, I’ve even brought you a parting gift.” The Goblin King raised his hand, which Steve was sure had been empty before, and held up with the tips of his fingers a perfectly clear flawless sphere, a little larger than a billiard ball.

“What is it?”

“A crystal.” As The Goblin King spoke he began to weave the ball through his fingers, rolling it back and forth along the surface of his hand in a way that appeared to defy gravity, and Steve fought hard not to be mesmerized by the display. 

“If you look into it just right, it’ll show you whatever you want, your wildest dreams even. But something like this?” The man paused, raising an eyebrow as he stilled the crystal and held it out like an offering. “I wouldn't give this to just anyone—say, a pathetic boy who happily spends his nights with his whiny little brother. Give him up, and you can have it.”

“No,” Steve ground out, well aware that he was being baited. And he refused to fall for it. 

“You don’t want to do this, trust me.” The King shook his head. “You’re no match for me and my goblins.” 

“He’s my brother, I have to get him back!”

“Very well.” The Goblin King tossed the crystal skyward where it vanished into thin air, and jumped down from his perch on the window sill, tilting his head as he studied Steve's face. 

Steve held himself carefully still, caught between wanting to shrink away from the other boy, and a strange desire to lean in close to him. 

“You want your brother back?” The Goblin King began, turning to point out the still open window behind him and the view beyond—no longer the night sky and the backyard Steve had known for most of his life, but something entirely different, a stretch of valley, mostly dead and barren, and just beyond that…

“He’s there. At the center of the Labyrinth, in my castle beyond the Goblin City.”

Steve blinked rapidly, taking a few steps closer to the window. He’d never seen anything like the intricate maze before. It was massive, made up of various levels of high walls, and hedges, and who knew what else. And set right in the center of it all was a tall stone castle. 

“Still want to look for him?” The King asked.

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “It doesn’t look that hard.” 

The enchanting boy began to pace a slow circle around him, and when Steve turned his head to follow the movement, he realized with a start that they were no longer standing in Dustin’s bedroom. The window was gone—the house was gone. He was in that place, standing on the dry dusty grounds that surrounded the Labyrinth, about half a mile from its perimeter. 

“Harder than you think.” The Goblin King gestured down at Steve’s wrist, pointing at the watch he wore there. The hands on it spun wildly as he watched, then all at once came to rest at the top, where an extra hour had appeared on its face. “And time is short. You have 13 hours, one for every year of your little brother’s life, to solve the Labyrinth before he becomes one of us, stuck in the goblin city forever.”

“Forever?!” Steve gasped, raising his eyes to find only empty air. 

The Goblin King had vanished without a trace, and Steve had no choice but to start walking, the sound of his watch ticking its countdown making each step feel more urgent than the last.

As he had done so many times before, Eddie sat back on his throne, legs draped across the arm of it, sulking over the monotonous reality of his existence. 

The Goblin King.

It should have been a dream gig. 

There were parts he found enjoyable, of course, but all-in-all it was lonelier and far more boring than he could have ever imagined. He quickly grew tired of what little entertainment was provided by the plethora of creatures he was now responsible for ruling, and it didn’t take long before he’d explored every nook and cranny of the Labyrinth—his Labyrinth now—to the point where he knew it backwards and forwards, and could find his way to any place within its walls with his eyes closed, with or without magic.

Chrissy’s appearance had been a welcome surprise. Another stolen child left to rot in the Goblin City—one more in a long list of things his predecessor had neglected to mention before he fucked off to god knows where—she had been living among the citizens as one of them for years, unbeknownst to Eddie. Until the day she’d shown up on the castle steps asking to speak with The King about some neighborly grievance or another. He no longer recalled the reason for her outrage but he did remember being impressed by her.

They became fast friends, the only two humans living amongst the wild creatures of the realm. Well, former humans was probably a more accurate descriptor. Surely Eddie was something else now, considering he hadn’t been able to do magic before he became whatever he currently was, and neither he nor Chrissy seemed to be aging at a normal rate. His humanity, or lack thereof, wasn’t something he usually liked to think about too much.

It was wonderful for a while, finally having a real friend by his side, someone he could be himself with, not feeling the need to put on the act of King with her like he did with the goblins or the rest of his subjects, but eventually even Chrissy’s companionship wasn’t enough to fill the gaping void in his chest.

So here he was, sprawled on his throne, swirling a few of his crystal balls around in his hand as he stared into them, looking for something he couldn’t put words to, while watching the other world go by, when something caught his eye—a pretty face with a body and voice to match. He was playing basketball, of all things, and Eddie had never understood the draw of sports before, but he could certainly see the appeal of this particular boy in those sinfully tight little shorts. 

It became a habit after a while, to look in on him every now and then… for research purposes.  

Steve, the name Eddie came to know the other boy by through listening in, was a baffling specimen. As nice as he was to look at—and he was very, very, nice to look at indeed—he was also a bit of an entitled asshole, at his worst around his friends and in school, through classes and sports alike. He became a slightly different version of that guy at home when faced with his parents, and yet another when he spent time with his little brother, who he seemed to hate one minute and love the next as though he couldn't decide one way or the other. 

Then there was the Steve he was when he was by himself. 

Alone in his room with no one around to observe—that he knew of, anyway—Steve was quiet, contemplative. At times Eddie thought he might even be lonely? Which just seemed like a wild concept considering the boy was, more often than not, surrounded by friends and family. 

It pissed Eddie off a little, to be honest.

Here Steve was with the world laid out at his feet. A nice house, a brother who looked up to him, parents who were there, maybe bordering on overbearing sometimes but was that really such a bad thing? Born with a silver fucking spoon in his mouth, and he still wasn’t happy. He didn’t seem to appreciate any of it.

But no matter how much the other boy annoyed him, Eddie couldn’t seem to stop watching, wanting to know more—see more—look his fill, and unravel the puzzle that was Steve Harrington.

Then one day, it happened.

The thing Eddie had been equal parts looking forward to—if only to break up the tedium and escape his own realm for a while—and dreading since the beginning of his tenure as the Goblin King. 

Someone made a wish.

And he was duty bound to see the deal through. He was pretty sure he had wiggle room, but the basics were clear: steal the child, explain the terms, and if the guardian chose to play the game and fight for their child’s return, then play the game he must.

Eddie stood in the middle of his closet, discarded clothes thrown haphazardly around him, and knew he was running out of time. The goblins were anxious to get to work and do their part.

“What are you even doing in there?” Chrissy shouted from the other room. 

She’d been out there waiting for him, judging him, while he swiped on a bit of eye makeup, teasing his hair a bit for good measure, and changed his outfit at least three times, looking for just the right ensemble to help him pull this off. He sighed, looking down at himself—leggings and leathers, It would have to do. 

Eddie poked his head out into the bedchamber. “Uh, getting dressed? What does it look like!” 

Chrissy was lounging on top of his bed, her head propped up while she read over a small stack of scrolls. There were hundreds of them lying around the castle, tucked into desk drawers, shoved in corners, collecting dust on bookshelves, and Chrissy had taken it upon herself to read as many of them as she could to figure out how things worked around here so they could make the most of it. It was slow going, admittedly, Goblin being her second language and all, but she was getting there, and had already uncovered many tricks that were about to seriously come in handy. 

She shot him a sharp look, eyebrows raised.

He grumbled wordlessly, quickly ducking back into the closet to lace up his boots and throw his favorite cloak on for good measure, before finally stepping out.

“Took you long enough,” she said, throwing the roll of parchment she was reading aside. 

“Can’t rush perfection, darling. I have to make sure it all sends the right message.”

“Why, because it’s your first time going back?”

“That, yes. But also—” Eddie looked down, nervously tying, and untying, and retying the fasteners at his neck until his cloak hung just so. “I can’t believe it, but It’s him, Chris.”

“Who?”

“Steve.”

“Oh,” she squeaked in surprise. “The guy you’re always creeping on while you fondle your balls, or whatever?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I am not creeping, I am observing. How else am I supposed to keep up with the times when I'm stuck here?”

“Sure, Jan.”

“I’m going to assume that’s one of those references I don't understand because I've been here since the dawn of time.”

“The eighties were hardly the dawn of time, Eddie.”

“Some days it feels like it,” he groaned, flopping himself down on the pillowy-soft mattress next to her. “How do you know so much about pop culture anyway?”

It was a genuine question, one he'd asked many times before with no luck. She’d been in the Labyrinth much longer than he had, and yet somehow still had a better grasp of the modern outside world. 

“You have your ways of keeping up with the times, and I have mine.” She gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Now, get up and get a move on. You have a job to do, Your Majesty.”

“You don’t have to patronize me,” he huffed.

“And you don’t have to wear those ridiculous collars, but here we are.”

Eddie jumped back up to his feet, slapping a hand to his chest in mock horror. “You wound me! The clothes are the best thing about this job! They’re cool!”

“Yeah,” she snorted. “To nerds.” 

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? Your extensive collection of feather boas?”

She was stalling. 

They both were.

Eddie snapped his mouth shut abruptly without another retort, swallowing hard as he backed his way to the door, wishing he could take her with him for moral support.

But Chrissy was right. He had to go, and he had to go now before he lost his nerve. 

“I-I guess this is it. I’ll be back soon with the child,” he said quietly.

She nodded, offering him an encouraging smile as he slipped out. “And I’ll be right here to make sure no one scares him too badly.”

Chapter 2: Into the Labyrinth

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist(open): @strangererotica @paintsplatteredandimperfect @xegany @devondespresso @3vilpurpl3d0t

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed! 💜

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

It's Too Soon, Too Fast, But This Could Last

Request: It was supposed to be a one night stand. Then it became a second night. A third - and suddenly they realized that they had never left.

Roy Kent x Reader 1k words Warnings: Language, mentions of a one-night stand

“I was thinking about getting a pizza for dinner. What d’you think?”

You looked up from your phone across the couch at Roy, who was gazing at you with raised eyebrows. Another dinner invitation? Was he expecting you to sleep over- again?

When you’d gone out with your girlfriends on Friday night, the only thing on your mind was dancing and letting loose. Sleeping with someone was not in the plans. And waking up on Saturday morning in Roy Kent’s bed was nowhere on your radar. But both of those things happened. And Saturday morning had turned into a lazy Saturday afternoon of movies and takeout, followed by another night in his bed. Now it was late Sunday morning, and you were lounging on his couch with a movie, wondering when the infamous womanizer was going to kick you out of his house.

“Pizza,” you echoed cautiously. “Uh, sure, pizza sounds great.” After a moment, you cleared your throat, fighting the urge to squirm nervously. “I might head home after that,” you added, keeping your eyes on Roy.

Instead of agreeing that yes, you should get the hell out of his house, Roy wrinkled his nose at you. “How come?” he asked plainly. “Something wrong?”

Not the reaction you were expecting, if you were being honest. “I think you might be running out of t-shirts to loan me, Roy,” you chuckled awkwardly, gesturing at the black shirt the footballer had handed you after the shower you’d shared that morning.

Those brown eyes narrowed playfully. “Just need a change of clothes, eh?” After a moment, he shrugged, the corner of his mouth beginning to curve into a smirk. “Why don’t I drive you by your place so you can grab a couple things while I go to the shop and get things to make a proper dinner?” Before you could formulate any sort of answer, he grabbed your leg and tugged you towards him until you were right next to him, face to face, noses touching. “How’s that sound? Stay over again?”

That tiny grin and those raised eyebrows were impossible to resist. “Alright,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll stay again.”

That was three weeks ago. Now, your toothbrush sat on Roy’s bathroom sink, next to your toiletry bag and hairbrush. Your duffel bag was settled in its spot next to his dresser, a spot it only left when you ran back to your place to refill it with fresh clothes. Even your laundry was done at Roy’s house, using the fancy-high tech washer and dryer in his washroom with just as much ease as you used your own. When you left work, you went straight to Roy’s house. When you popped into the shops, your groceries went into his kitchen.

It was a bit surreal, if you were being honest; you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to your girlfriends, other than coyly tell them that you’d had a good time with Roy after he’d put his hand on the small of your back and led you out of the club you’d met at. But hell, if it wasn’t the happiest couple of weeks you’d had in a long time.

You were in the kitchen making dinner when you heard Roy’s voice. He didn’t call your name, the way he usually did when he walked through the door. Instead, it sounded like he was in the middle of a conversation with someone. Sure enough, when you peeked into the living room, you saw him with his mobile pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he was saying. With his back to the kitchen, he couldn’t see you lingering in the doorway, unsure whether to do something to get his attention. “Is it cool if I, uh, bring my girlfriend with me?”

Girlfriend. Your hand flew to your mouth to stifle your squeak and hide your smile. Girlfriend. Had Roy really said that? With two little syllables, he’d nearly stopped the breath in your lungs and sent your heart into the stratosphere.

Deciding to pretend you hadn’t heard a thing, you quickly turned back to the kitchen. Too quickly, apparently, because you harshly slammed your shoulder into the doorframe.

“Ow,” you hissed, rubbing your arm.

So much for keeping quiet.

When you glanced over your shoulder, Roy was looking at you, phone still pressed to his ear. His eyes sparkled at the sight of you, clearly fighting a smile. “Alright man,” he said to whoever he was chatting with. “I’ll see you later.” He hung up and offered you a small nod. “Hey there,” he hummed casually.

“Hi.” You crossed the room to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. The kiss he pressed to your lips was familiar now. “So, you’re taking your girlfriend somewhere, hmm?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Do I need to leave before she finds me here or…?”

Roy’s smile turned from coy to bashful and so freaking adorable. “You heard that, yeah?” He chuckled and shook his head. “One of my teammates is having a birthday party tomorrow night.” He pressed his forehead to yours; you could feel the embarrassed heat radiating off his face. “I’d fucking love it if you came with me.”

“What about your girlfriend?” you teased, anxious to get him to ask him the question you were clearly digging for.

Sure enough, Roy rolled his eyes and gave you a little squeeze. “Fuck off,” he huffed with a chuckle. “I was talking about you, you muppet.” He leaned in for a kiss.

Refusing to let him off the hook, you dodged his lips and shook your head. “I’m not your girlfriend,” you reminded him pointedly. “Unless you asked me something and I completely missed it.”

Roy gave another eyeroll, paired with an affectionate groan. “Fine.” He squeezed you closer now. “Since you’re already half moved in, d’you think you want to be my girlfriend?”

It was supposed to be one night. One night in Roy Kent’s bed, something fun and casual, something that you’d giggle about with your girlfriends and slowly forget about. But now, with your things in Roy’s house and his arms wrapped around you, you knew there was only one answer to his question.

“Sure, Roy.” You leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I think I want to be your girlfriend.”

[lipglossanon]

Dressed Up to the Nines Again (And Anything Really Could Happen)

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆

Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

(stand alone one shot)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, stuckage (this one I had fun with 😜), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, brief mention of water sports but none actually taking place (Leon just being mean as usual), lipstick kink kinda 🤔

not proofread! this doesn’t really have a specific time frame it takes place, just pretty much smut 🤣 ending is also abrupt 😅

Title from Saturday Night by We Are Robots!

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆

You’re only half listening as your stepdad tells Leon to work on the kitchen sink that afternoon while you head out with a couple of friends. 

“Have fun!” your stepdad calls to you as you head out the door. 

“Will do!” you smile at him and then at Leon, blowing them a kiss but being mindful to not smudge your lipstick. 

But it all comes rushing back when you walk into the kitchen hours later and see Leon sprawled across the floor, his head and upper shoulders tucked under the cabinet so he can work on the busted pipe. 

“Hey!”  

“Hey yourself,” you say, kneeling to look at him but can’t really make eye contact since his arm’s twisted in the way. 

“Thank god someone’s here, listen I tried to fix this wrench in place and it got stuck to the wall and trapped my arm like this,” he’s talking fast, “it hurts like a bitch so help pull me out.”

“Okay,” you shrug, and grab his legs to pull him back but his body doesn’t budge.

“Fuck! Okay maybe let’s try a gentler approach,” his voice echoes from the cabinet, “grab my hips and pull, maybe it’ll jar me loose.”

You kneel between his legs to grab his hips, “You sure this isn’t going to hurt you?”

“I’m hurt either way,” he sighs, “okay, I’m ready.”

You pull him hard but he only bites out a low groan of pain. 

“Alright maybe, um, maybe do short tugs instead of one long pull,” he offers up. 

You listen and do just that but again he only groans in pain. 

“Alright, it seems like that loosened something so let’s try pulling hard one last time,” his legs shift restlessly. 

For the last time, you grab his hips and really put your back into pulling. You fall back on your ass thinking you tugged Leon free… but the only thing you’ve actually done is tug down the sweats he was wearing, showcasing the fact Leon decided to not wear briefs that day. 

“What the fuck?” he yells at you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you quickly raise up, “I fell down, not like I did it on purpose!”

“I bet!” he snorts at you. 

You glare at him, “Just for that you can sit here bare assed til someone else comes home.”

“Wait, no c’mon, don’t be like that,” he pleads, “I’m just stressed from being trapped under a fucking sink.”

You hum but let your eyes drag up his legs to his thick thighs, all the way up to stare at his honestly pretty cock. Biting your lip, you crawl a little closer until you’re right at the apex of his thighs. 

“What’s going on?” you can hear the strain in his voice. 

“You said you were stressed right?” an idea quickly forming in your head, “that’s something I can probably help with, big brother.”

His thighs spread as he groans; you watch as his cock stiffens against his thigh, quickly filling out at what you’re suggesting. 

“You’re really..” he groans when he feels your fingers grab his dick and stroke it a few times, “fuck, so hot.”

You laugh at him, “For once, I get to do what I want.”

“You always get what you want,” he snarks at you but it loses its edge when you spit on his cock, “fucking hell.”

“Uh uh,” you chide, “now I’m gonna tease you and show you what it’s like.”

“Yeah?” he moans, “then show me little sis, teach me a lesson.”

You whine and lean down to kitten lick the fat, drippy head. Tugging down his foreskin, you bath his tip with your tongue tasting the salty, clean skin. Humming, you lick your way down until you reach his balls. 

“Fuck, they’re sensitive, princess,” he pants, “go easy.”

“Easy, huh,” your lips brush against the skin of his balls making his legs twitch. 

You kiss his sac all over, smearing your lipstick and leaving lip prints behind, “Aww there goes my makeup,” you pout. 

“Makeup?” 

“Mmhmm,” tongue slipping out, you lick and suck the soft skin making Leon lose his mind, “got my lipstick all over you.”

“God damn,” he groans, hips pushing up in the air, “fuck that’s so, ungh!“

You grin, kissing his balls softly, “Like that?”

“So much,” he pants, “s’fucking hot, always wanted a girl to leave lipstick stains all over my dick.”

You widen your lips and press as much of his balls into your mouth as possible, running your tongue all over until he’s dripping in spit. You pull away to lap at all the spots you missed, getting him nice and wet everywhere. He can’t stop the low grunts and moans as you tease his balls. 

You glance up and see that he’s weeping precum everywhere. His dick is coated in the sticky strands. Your hole clenches down, slick quickly filling your panties making your thighs feel sticky. 

“You must really like this,” you laugh at him, kissing the seam of his sac before running your tongue along it. 

“God yes,” he growls, “my little sister giving me the sloppiest head I’ve ever had? Fuck, princess, I’m gonna bust early.”

You moan, nipples tightening in your bra,  and move your mouth away from his balls to lick up all that bitter precum leaking from the head of his dick. Your clit throbs with want but you ignore it for now. His cock is soaked with spit once you’re finished and gently sucking on the tip.  

“Yeah that’s it, suck me off, show me what you can do,” he groans low in his chest, “what a fucking wet dream this turned out to be.”

“Mmm,” you mouth against his cock making it jump and smear precum across your cheek, “big brother’s got such a big cock, don’t know if it’ll fit in my mouth.”

“Fucking hell,” he gasps, “it’ll fit baby, c’mon ya gotta at least try. And it’ll feel so good once you put it in your mouth, make you feel so nice and full.”

You moan and suck the first couple of inches eagerly into your mouth, lips stretching and jaw open wide from how thick he is in your mouth. Your clit pulsing with your heartbeat makes you rub your thighs together, but it doesn’t really alleviate any of the tension building in your core. 

“That’s it, princess, fuck, s’good, you’re doing so good,” his thighs jump in an effort to keep still, “that tongue, god.” 

Eyelashes fluttering from the praise, you mewl and sink your mouth further down his cock. You suck softly around the throbbing length, tongue twisting around the head as you bob your head up. Your thighs are getting wet as the slick leaks from your panties. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Leon chants under his breath, rolling his hips to bury his cock deeper into your mouth. 

You press your hands down on his hips to hold him still so you can suck him off at your own pace. 

“S’good,” he slurs, “perfect little mouth.”

You drop your mouth down as far as you can, the tip kissing your throat and making you gag. Pulling away, you cough, thick strings of saliva connect between your lips to his dick making you dizzy with arousal at the sight. 

“You’re just too big,” you rasp, voice rough, moving one hand to jerk his wet cock, “guess you’ll have to train my little throat to take you, huh big brother.”

“Yeah, train you til you can deep throat me like the slut you are,” he rumbles, throbbing in your hand. 

“Mean,” you pout at him, kissing his cockhead and letting your tongue dip into the slit. 

“‘M close, princess,” he bucks up into your slick fist, “y’gonna swallow it?”

“Of course,” you moan, “want big brother’s hot sticky cum all over my tongue.”

“Goddamn,” he makes a punched out noise as you go back down on him. 

All of a sudden, you feel a pair of hands tangling in your hair. You jerk back but they hold you steady as Leon rolls his hips up into your drooling mouth. 

“You said you wanted it, so be a good girl and let me fuck that needy mouth,”he chuckles, “guess I should thank you, got me so hot and sweaty that I was able to twist my arm out.”

You whine, eyes watering as Leon continues to tease the back of your throat with his cock, precum dripping all over your tongue. Your cunt aches as your walls clench down on nothing. 

“Look at the fucking lipstick rings on my dick,” he groans, eyes greedily watching you cough and choke on his cock as he presses deep into your throat , “gonna need to buy you different colors, try’em all out.”

Pulling off with a wet moan, he gives you a second to catch your breath before bullying his hard cock back into your swollen mouth. You squirm trying to squeeze your thighs together but your pussy’s sticking to your panties making it hard to get any friction. 

“Gonna cum,” he grits out, hips stuttering up into your mouth, “gonna cream your throat, little sis. Make sure to drink it all up.”

Whining high in your throat must help him along because you feel his cock kick and throb as he spurts rope after rope of hot jizz into your mouth. You quickly swallow before the cum sticks to the roof of your mouth and tongue. 

Leon holds your head still while he finishes in your mouth. He brushes a thumb underneath your eyes, wiping away the tears building up on your lash line. 

He grins down at your dazed expression as you continue to suckle his cock, “Good thing I didn’t need to piss, could just hold you in place and make you drink that all down too.”

You push his hips away, letting his dick slip from your mouth all spit shiny and slick. 

“You’re so gross,” you cough out, voice even more raspy than before, cunt pulsing with ignore arousal. 

He grabs you arm and pulls you to his chest; he tilts your chin back as he looks over your face. 

“Wanna mess up your lipstick every time, princess,” he murmurs to you, “y’look so hot and slutty.” 

He kisses you hard, tongue lapping at your lips til he slips into your mouth and sucks you tongue. Pulling away, he pats your cheek then slips on his sweats. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he grabs your wrist and pulls you up from the kitchen floor. 

“What?” you’re still dizzy from his kiss and the arousal thrumming in your body.

“Gotta return the favor right?” he smirks at you. 

You squeal when he grabs you, swinging your legs up til he can carry you bridal style. 

“Your bedroom,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“No arguments from me, princess.”

Lucky for you both, no one else is home for the rest of the afternoon.

[strangerslxt]

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Devil In Disguise

“You look like an angel.”

“Walk like an angel.”

“Talk like an angel.”

You hummed along with the melody softly as you did your usual afternoon run around the block.

Head phones on your ears and Walkman safely tucked into the pocket of your polyester shorts, you jogged without a care in the world.

Oh but you would wish you did care.

A familiar Chevrolet Camaro was speeding up to you, slowing down enough so his car would be out of your sight for the time being, Billy kept his eyes glued to the round globes of your ass peeking under those shorts.

Exhaling from the Marlboro he had just hauled from, he could feel his jeans tighten.

You intrigued him, you were relatively friendly to everyone at school, except him.

“Bitch.” He muttered before revving the engine loudly enough that it came over your music.

Irritated you pulled your head phones off to see who it was that interrupted your vibe.

“Douche bag!” You holler at him while throwing up your middle finger for extra measure.

The corners of Billy’s lips turned up in a taunting smirk, you had balls, for a chick anyway.

He blew down on his horn while gritting his teeth and hitting the gas petal harshly, gravel spraying up from under his tires, right into your direction.

You cry out angrily as the tiny rocks pelted hard into your skin, and glare as the car disappears down the road quickly.

Angrily you jogged the rest of the way home in silence, your teeth grinding together as you thought of Billy Hargrove and his smug smirk.

You didn’t find him impressive or something to fawn over like all the girls at school did.

He was a jerk who just happened to have a hot mullet.

Shaking your head, cheeks slightly pink from complimenting him in your head, you kicked your sneakers off and padded to the kitchen for a cold glass of lemonade.

Looking at the little hand written note your mother had pinned under a magnet on the fridge you groaned, she was away again selling Mary Kay beauty products and wouldn’t be home till Saturday morning.

Sighing you leaned against the counter and sipped your beverage while looking out the window spacing out for a moment or two.

“Guess I should do some homework.” You murmured while taking your hair out of its pony tail and sat down at the table doing exactly that.

The next day in the school parking lot, Billy leaned on the hood of his car with a cigarette hanging from his lips and watched you with brooding eyes.

You were walking with your head down, books clutched tightly to your chest and those damn head phones over your head.

Flicking his ash, he watched you for a moment before smirking as your eyes suddenly met his, mouthing some obscenity to you which earned him a death glare but he seen the subtle blush creeping across your face.

“Fuck off hargrove.” You spit as you pass by him, avoiding his hard blue eyes.

“Panties in a twist princess?” He retorted back with a scoff.

You stop with a dirty look on your face, “You nearly stoned me to death with that stupid stunt you pulled yesterday. You drive like a moron.”

Billy gave you a crooked smile and shrugged before flicking the cigarette butt at you, “Watch where your walking then.”

Glaring, you puffed your cheeks for a moment before turning on your heel and stomped away quickly, fuming.

God he was such an asshole.

Billy chuckled to himself before noticing a tiny flash of gold on the ground near where you had been standing just a few moments ago.

Bending down he carefully lifted a small gold hoop earring, one he was familiar with.

The ones you always wore.

And now another mistake you’d come to regret…

A/N: pt.1 is finally done, I’m ngl I just wanted to get the boring shit out of the way and get into the juice😫

[onlycrystal]

hiii! i’m a new fan bc i gotta say, your work is like beyond amazing. helloooo? anywho pretty please i’d like to request a dilf!ushijima x fem!reader if that’s okay!

(i’d really love a good smut please ☹️☹️) thank you so much<3333

@iiyuxii

authors note: thank you so much?!? you are so respectful and sweet <3 I hope you enjoy! not proof read btw

cw: breeding kink, dilf!ushijima, dom ushi, sub reader, ddlg, praise, unprotected, smut, semi public sex, oral (m receiving)

idk what to title this

after a tiring weekend, you and your husband, ushijima, had come to conclusion that next weekend you would need a babysitter. ushijima comes home from work everyday burnt out and exhausted, to see you also burnt out and exhausted from entertaining your baby daughter the entire day.

"doll, we deserve one weekend off. we can go to a fancy resturant, and drink. come on, I know you miss it" his voice became playful at the end of his sentence, smirking down at you.

you finally agreed, and on Saturday afternoon, you kissed your daughter goodbye, leaving her with ushijimas parents, who are more than happy to watch her for the weekend.

you get ready at your house. opening your closet, you see many different kinds of dresses that you haven't had the opportunity to wear in awhile. you end up going with a black satin dress, with a slit. you pair it with black stilettos and a black shoulder bag. u even do your lipstick to match. you begin to smile as you get yourself ready. you were so excited! its been so long since you'd done something like this with ushijima.

as you step out into the kitchen, you see ushijima straighten himself up. he's dressed in a white button up, with 3 buttons unbuttoned at the top, on top wearing a black blazer and black slacks. you blush at the part of his chest you can barely see, and he stares at you intently. as you approach him, he puts his rough calloused hands on your hips, slightly moving them up and down. you blush harder as he says, "darling, you look... gorgeous" he stares into your eyes, and then they start to angle down to the low-cut of your dress. you put your hand on his chin, and angle his face back up so he's looking at your face again. "thank you, daddy" you giggle, and start walking out the front door as he just stands there in shock. you turn around and say "you coming" he snaps back into it and you leave to the 2 Michelin star restaurant.

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

his eyes stay glued to your chest as you put your elbows up on the table, forearms pressed up against your tits enlarging them as you order your entrée. "and sir, what will it be for you?" he snaps back into reality, his gaze immediately fixing on the waiter "o-oh, ill go with the steak, medium rare, sir." the server writes down your dishes and walks away. ushijima blushes slightly and pushes his hair back as he realizes the way his pants start to tighten around him. "I love the meat here! its so- ushi baby, are you okay?" you take note of the way he looks reddish, and he becomes redder as you pose your question. "yeah babe, its nothing, you were saying?" you shrug it off and blab off at him. ushijima is such a good boyfriend, always listening to what you have to say and being patient. but the whole time you talk, it gets drowned out as he just stares at your chest and practically drools. "babeee, seriously are you okay? I feel like you're out of it." you ask him, but he just stares back at you and inches closer and closer to your face over the candle lit at your table. he closes the gap and kisses you lazily as he grabs you wrist and guides it down to his lab. he uses your palm to press against his erection in his pants. you blush at how big and hard he is. "look at what youre doing to me, honey..." the pet name melts off his tongue as he stares at you with lust. you rub your legs together at the heat forming in your core. "but b-babe we're in p-public..!" you whisper shout at him. instead of replying, he grabs your arm and leads you to the single use bathroom in a hurry.

he closes the door and locks it quickly before backing you up against the wall and making out with you, aggressively, hungrily. you moan into each others lips as his heavy body presses you against the wall harshly. even on stilettos, ushijima still has to slightly kneel to meet your lips but he doesn't care. he loves your height. he pulled away and started attacking your neck, biting and sucking leaving hickies all over and making you come undone. your hands found their way onto his body, one hand holding him for support and the other palming over his crotch. you whimpered in his ear, as he sucked against your sweet spot. "waka, its- t-too much~" you could feel him get harder and rub him against your hand, causing him to let a low groan out against your neck. "fuck" he threw his head back slightly, adams apple bobbing in his throat. you got on your knees, as if you read his mind, and started undoing his belt. you let his cock spring free from his pants and began leaving kitten licks. ushijima is always careful about where he puts his hands on you, because his biggest fear is hurting you. he never forces you down further, but instead lets you take your time as you engulf his huge cock in your mouth. it takes a bit of time but you manage to get the whole thing in your mouth, and slowly start bopping your head. ushjima puts his hand in his hair, pushing it back slightly as he let out groans (that were barely moans). "fuckkk, I love you" you smile against his length and continue sucking him off until you finally hear his groans turn to moans and his hot seed spews in the back of your throat. you swallow the whole thing, and stand back up.

you whimper and whine as ushijima turns you around, your face pushed up against the wall. he moves your dress up, exposing your bare ass to the cool air of the washroom. he pulls your panties down and runs a finger against your slick cunt. "so wet. all for me, baby, this pussy is mine." you moan at the contact against your heat "mmh~ all y-yours daddy~ please...~" you beg as he continues teasing you. he smirks and shoves a finger in your hole. "please what babe? gotta beg properly" you moan at the sudden sensation. "p-please!~" he shoves a second finger into you. his fingers are huge but still dont compare to his huge dick. "cmon babe, that wont do." he taunts as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. "fuckfuckfuck, daddy want you to fuck me, pleaseee please~" you begged hard, nothing mattered to you, you just needed to be filled up. he chuckled lowly "alright alright, so needy for me babydoll" he aligned himself at your entrance and slowly, inch by inch, he entered you. he groaned as you tightened around him, you always did because no matter how many times you fuck, you can never get used to his girth. he groans and kisses your ear before whispering "taking me so well darling" you blush, always feeling on top of the world from ushijimas praise. slowly and carefully, he begins moving. wet, sinful sounds fill the area of the bathroom as ushijima fucks you. he keeps his hands on your waist, holding you up because your legs start to go weak from him. "daddy~ s-so good baby~" you moan as you suck him in. he continues to ram into you, until he finally hits your gspot. your moans grow louder as he continues hitting you in the perfect spot. "honey i~ nngh - fuck n-need to cum!" you whine as he fucks you relentlessly. he groans in response "fuck, me too" he throws his head back, in bliss from the pleasure. "w-want you to cum inside daddy please~" you hear him chuckle a bit, but his pace doesn't falter. "fuck. gonna fill you up and make you a mommy again hah~" you shut your eyes and moan blissfully before orgasming on his dick, feeling his cum shoot inside you.

you pant and your legs wobble, but ushijima turns you around and picks you up. he leans in and kisses you sweetly before cleaning you you up. "did such a good job for me baby" he kisses your forehead as he puts you down and makes sure to hold you close as you exit the bathroom. this definitely wouldn't be the last time you went out with him again <3

[youraveragebtsstan]

💫✨ Supernatural, but it's an early 2000's teen drama. (Think 'The O.C' meets 'One Tree Hill' vibes) ✨💫

Imagine, it's a gorgeous Saturday afternoon in 2003. You're in the kitchen pouring a bowl of Resse's Puffs when you hear Ain't It Fun by Paramore from the living room TV. (Pretend this song was out then.) Knowing the hit TV show Supernatural's theme song by anywhere, you rush to the couch.

Since the hit TV show aired in the early 2000's, its all anyone can talk about. Staring heartthrobs Jensen Ackles and Jarred Padalecki, this show tells the story of brothers Sam and Dean as they navigate life raised by their father John since their mother Mary's pasisng.

🤫 Allow me to set the scene...

Tension between Sam and John has been brewing since Season 1, always butting heads on the littlest of things. Dean says it's because they're an awful alot alike but neither party seems to see it. After moving from school to school, town to town, by Season 3 it's at its peak.

Season 3 opens on an 18 year old Sammy filling out an application for Stanford. He does so in secret, knowing Dean would bitch about it and John- well John probably won't be around to care anyway. Thoughout the season we see him rebell, staying out late and going to parties he probably shouldn't be. Dean tries his best to reason with him, but Sam needs to come around on his own time.

By the season finale, tension is at an all time high. Dean reveals to Sam he knows he's leaving them for Stanford after stumbling across his acceptance letter. This prompts Sam and Dean to get into an argument which John overhears.

After some awkward back and forth, Dean eventually blabs to which John says, "Like the college?"

Sam says, "Yeah, Dad- the college."

Dean says, "Isn't that something? He didn't even tell us he applied."

More silence sits netween them before Sam asks John what he thinks. After some thought John says, "Well, if you want to go, go."

Sam looks shocked, "Really?" he asks.

"Yeah," John nods. "But if you're gonna go, you might as well stay gone."

Sam's heart drops, Dean grumbling at his father's carelessness.

This ensues a BIG argument between John and Sam, to which Sam eventually Sam says, "You know what, I will."

Sam heads upstairs to pack, Dean once again trying to be the peacemaker. Eventually the season ends with Sam walking out of the door with a classic one-liner that absolutely shocks the hearts of millions across the world.

Sam isn't actually seen in the following season (S4), giving the audience well needed view of Dean's devotion to John (but also because Jared begins his stint on Gilmore Girls.) His welcome back to the show occurs at the end of the next season where the Original Supernatural starts, but done with a little more class.

On the last episode of Season 5, we see the infamous Impala pulling up outside a college dorm. Someone steps out of the Impala but we can't tell who it is, not just yet anyway. The person walks up to the door and maybe contemplates ringing the doorbell. Eventually he sneaks in and we see him knock something over on the way in.

Upstairs a girl sound asleep hears a noise. Waking up, she shakes her boyfriend saying, "Babe. Babe, I think someone's downstairs." We got back to downstairs where the man is now looking around in the dark- but wait, there's someone behind him. Someone with a bat takes a swing at him, tackling him to the ground. They tussle back and forth, until the burglar is revealed. We zoom in to see Dean, laying on his back with a smile.

"Dean?" says familiar voice.

"Hiya Sammy," Dean replies.

Boom! Hard cut to Sam's face and the crown goes wild!!! Sam says Dean what he's doing there to which Dean says, "Dad went on a hunting trip and now he's missing. I need your help."

Cut to black, end of Season 5.

~~~~~~

Lol, dramatic I know, but I just get this awesome feeling of nostalgia whenever I imagine Supernatural as one of those teen drama, sentimental shows. (I've been binging those lately and they're all I can think about..lol)

[elysianhades]

tiny drabble

I've had this just sitting around forever and at this point I don't think I'm going to finish it because I don't know where I was wanting it to go but I wrote too much to just scrap it so here ya go!

If for some reason I get an idea on how I want it to end I'll fix it up :D

Saeran x Reader

What I imagine the start of a weekend would be like.

Weekends were never really a relaxing thing in your house growing up. It was the two days that your parents had the day off from work so it was prime time to catch up on all the chores that had accumulated over the week. Saturday was the inside of the house, vacuuming and scrubbing the floor, dusting all shelves, laundry, cleaning windows, and once a month you’d be forced to help move around the furniture. Sunday was always the day you and your siblings dreaded the most because that was yardwork day- or if the world really wanted to spite you- cleaning the garage as well. 

Weekends consisted of waking up at 6:30 and getting a quick snack before working until 3 or 4 in the afternoon. It didn’t matter that the place wasn’t messy and everything you all did was done the week before either, it had to be done again like it hasn’t been cleaned in years and people were coming over.  Needless to say, weekends weren’t something you really looked forward to, it was always stressful and after those days of cleaning, it was back to school until the next one. When you got older and got your first couple jobs, you were almost glad that you worked on the weekends because at least then you’re getting paid while being on your feet all day moving back and forth. But like most everything else in your life, Saeran was able to make something you hated into something you looked forward to.

Now on the weekends, it doesn’t matter when you wake up or who wakes up first, you both would stay in bed until the other would wake up and be ready to get up. More often than not it’s Saeran who wakes up first- although the days when you manage to wake up before him are your favorite because you get to see him wake up with his morning hair and sleepy eyes- with you waking up soon after. You both slowly wake up, basking in the other's presence and listening to the birds outside chirp and sing as they start their day.

There is never a rush to get up and start working. Never stress or guilt or dread for staying in bed for just a few more minutes. When you both managed to roll out of bed (which changes on each weekend. There are never enough cuddles) you still take your time walking to the kitchen, planning the day’s agenda and what you both wanted to eat.

“Ah, I forgot I left the bread out last night to make french toast. Does that still sound good to you, lovey?” You say, yawning in your hand as you look at the french bread slices laid out on the table. 

“That still sounds delicious, my love. Do you want any help making breakfast?” Saeran smiles, touching the small of your back as he passes you. 

“Uhhh not with the food, I got that. Do you want to start boiling water for tea? I’m craving that one oolong drink I made a while ago that you still need to try.” You follow Saeran’s touch, flicking on the overhead light as you both enter the kitchen. He nods before grabbing the blue kettle from its spot in the cabinet. 

The sun is still coming up when you glance out the window. No one else is going to wake up for a while -which is perfect- it gives you both time to enjoy each others company without Saeyoung giving you both kissy faces or Yoosung and Zen cringing at how ‘lovey-dovey’ you both are being, not that them being around changes how you both act around each other and you both know the teasing is good natured anyways.

“Do you wanna turn on some music? Or just want to listen to the birds outside?” you ask, looking over your shoulder and gesturing to the speaker with your elbow and walking over to the fridge. There are multiple tiny speakers spread around the house. Some of them are in normal places you know, where you would expect speakers to be, beside the doorway to the kitchen, on the wall beside the window, and one on the dresser in your shared room. The others though… are in questionable places at best. There is a speaker in the shoe/coat closet, in the doorway leading down stairs, under the table in the living room, and even one where you keep the towels?? To be perfectly honest though, the one under the table might be there for prank purposes (Yoosung being the primary target) and because your brother-in-law saw no reason for there not to be a speaker in the places he put them.

“We should listen to music, I’m sure there are songs on your playlist I haven’t heard yet.” Saeran laughs as he turns the stovetop on and puts the water filled kettle on top.

Patting your pockets as you continue to look in the fridge, you pull your phone out of the pants you borrowed- stole- and unlock it with your finger. You glance at the top playlist before connecting it to only the kitchen speaker before pocketing your phone again and pulling out the milk and eggs from the fridge. A familiar tune starts to play as you set the things in your hands on the counter and turn around on your heel to grab two big bowls.

“Why hello there, handsome.” you smile as Saeran stands in front of the cabinet you needed to reach. He smiles as he grabs your hands and guides you over to him. 

“Hello angel.” He hums and holds you tightly. You sigh and lean against him just taking in the morning and the feeling of being in his arms. It’s your stomach that brings you out of the moment.

“Not that I don’t enjoy this lovely, but I do need to get the bowl that's behind you.” You smile, rubbing your finger on Saeran’s cheek as you talk.

“Really? The one behind me? Are you sure?” He smiles cheekily, pretending to think for a second.

You knew he stood there on purpose just so he would have the excuse to hold you. Rolling your eyes playfully you nod.

“Yeah, unless you want me to try making the batter on the counter or on a plate, which I would not recommend, that would be a huuuuge mess.” Your nose wrinkles in distaste just thinking about the mess that would make.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He sighs but still doesn’t move.

“Mhm, a tragedy. Are you gonna scooch?” You lean closer to his lips.

“That depends. I’m pretty comfortable here, my love. I might need a little motivation.” He smirks, dramatically pouting.

Humming slowly you lean in to kiss him, knowing that’s what he was hinting at and what he truly wanted. He eagerly leans in, chucking as he does so. Whenever you two kiss the rest of the world disappears, it’s just you two in the moment. Only the love you two feel for each other. When you pull away- mainly because you need air; you would kiss Saeran’s cute smug little face any day forever if you could- Saeran moves both of you away from the cupboard (you still needed to get into) his cheeks red and eyes happy.

“You know,” you start to say, giving him quick kisses between every few words, “if you wanted a kiss you could have asked. I’m never going to say no.”

“I always want to kiss you, angel. There’s nothing else in the world I would rather do. I love you.” He murmurs against your lips.

“And I love you, with everything I am.” 

* * * * *

You crack the eggs into the wide glass bowl, pour a little bit of milk, vanilla, and a lot of cinnamon into the mixture, before starting to whisk it together. Saeran stands behind you, holding your waist and watching with his hand on your shoulder. This is a recipe you haven’t shown him yet, it’s your dad’s recipe and while you can’t make it taste exactly how your dad does you haven gotten close enough with how often you used to make it.

“Do you have a preference between more eggy or more milky?” You ask, tipping your head back.

“How does adding one change when it’s all finished?” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder once more.

“Hmm, actually? I don’t know? I just remember my dad liking it more milky and my mom more eggy. Maybe when it’s more eggy it’s more firm?” you ponder out loud and sprinkle some more cinnamon into the bowl. You feel his chuckle in your ear before he leans back to think.

“Is there a way you prefer it? We could try that one this time and then the other kind next time.” He suggests, watching the tiny cloud of cinnamon disperse.

Now you stop to think before putting two more glugs of milk into the tan mixture. You whisk slower now to see if any of the egg yolks hadn’t been broken up yet. When you don’t see any lumps then you turn to the cookie sheet of bread that’s across one the stovetop and then the skillet.

“Could you check the skillet?” You ask, dropping a few extra drops of vanilla in.

You look over your shoulder when Saeran’s hands leave your waist. He walks over to the pan and holds his hand over it to check its temperature. You take this opportunity to admire him. Even though you both have been awake for a little while, his hair still looks like he just rolled out of bed, it’s sticking up in different directions. His pajama shirt has the top two buttons undone, letting his collarbones show [ most likely because he knows you’re weak to the sight]. You love how confident he looks when he is in his element, it’s a great look on him. He cocks his head to the side and hums in thought.

“I’d say it’s ready, my love.”

The crisp air immediately bites your nose as you step off the back porch, it almost makes you want to sneeze. The brisk breeze blowing causes more red-orange leaves to fall off the trees. The branches are almost all barren, only handfuls of leaves are left, gently swaying in the wind until they too, fall off. The smell of the outside stirs the memories of taking hikes when you were a child, collecting leaves and laminating them to make bookmarks or wall art. It reminds you of the autumn fairs your father used to take you to, the carnival games and the huge farm tractor filled with hay that would take you to the different parts of the farm. The smell reminds you of the annual family photos you guys would take, with the falling leaves surrounding you. Autumn was truly your favorite time of year.

The apple, peach and plum trees are empty, those being the first to be empty, the fruit being used to make cobblers, jam, pies, or flavored butter. The berry bushes are barren and the flower beds are empty (fully weeded and everything) to let the soil rest. 

You turn when you hear the back door close shut behind you, signaling your husband finally found where his gloves are and is now ready to help. The small meow also is telling that your kitten has followed him out. You both are bundled up with handmade gloves, scarfs and hats. You have on a blue puffer coat and brown boots and Saeran has on a pink puffer coat with black boots. The fluffy maine coon kitten is wearing a plaid bandana on his neck, his kitten fluff causing him to look like a spiky dust bunny.

“What are we starting on?” Saeran laughs, looking around the yard and at Bramble who is now chasing a falling leaf. His bandana is all you both can see.

“Well, we don’t have much left to do… how about we take care of the leaves that have fallen so then we can plan where we want to put up decorations.” You sigh, talking in the smell of fall around you.

Nodding in affirmation, Saeran starts to walk over to the shed where you two keep all your tools. It’s a pretty big shed, you never really knew how much space some of the tools took. The shed itself is mauve with hand painted designs on it, courtesy of you, Saeran and Seayoung. Saeran had wanted to make it completely unique and original, so all three of you spent a few afternoons in the past painting it. In the end, the building was covered in things that shouted ‘Choi Household’, your designs, Saeran’s flowers and bees, and Saeyoung’s constellations- pretty hectic all things considered but still yours. Whenever you look at it, you feel the happy moments you guys had painting it which never failed to make you smile. 

The doors are simple black double dutch doors, the kind that can open at the top while still staying shut. An unfortunate circumstance involving Bramble is what encouraged you both to install one and overall, it is very handy. If you are ever cleaning in there it’s very nice to have the top open to let the breeze in while not having to worry about stray chickens wandering in. The doors always stay locked if either of you aren’t working outside just as a precaution.

Inside is full of every garden tool you’d think you need but doubled. Bags of soil and fertilizers sit in the corner. Pitchforks, hatchets, rakes, and shovels line the walls each on its own hook. A wheelbarrow with handheld spades and shovels, gloves and knee pads hanging off the sides is tucked next to the door for easy access. The older flower pots are stacked in the opposite corner of the bags of soil, close to the deck flower beds and the hanging baskets. There is a tall shelf pushed against the far wall and on it are garbage bags (the heavy-duty ones), chicken scratch, rubber boots, and other tiny miscellaneous items. The overall smell of the shed is very earthy, like you are in the middle of a dense forest, surrounded by nature. The other tools are in the garage, so Saeyoung could have easy access to them whenever the mood to tinker and build hits him.

You grab both rakes with one hand and attempt to grab a couple garbage bags with the other. The rakes however, decide they don’t want to cooperate, slipping out of your fingers while you try to find the endings of the bags in the box. They fall over and land on the ground with a solid thunk and a rattle of the metal one as the prongs collide with each other. Now with an extra hand, you have no problem grabbing the offending garbage bags.

“Why me.” You deadpan, rolling your eyes when you hear Saeran snort behind you.

With a small giggle, Saeran moves to pick up both rakes. He smiles sweetly at you before turning to leave the shed with the rakes in hand quickly- probably so you wouldn’t try to pick them up one handed again- You follow after him, unlatching the top part of the door and pulling the bottom shut behind you.

“Wanna each do half?” You ask, standing next to your lover as you both look over the yard again, this time to make a game plan.

“Hmmm, how about we do a half together, take a short break and then tackle the last half?” He suggests, watching Bramble chase a bird across the yard.

(There are 4 more pages of different endings this could go down but I didn't like the flow so it cuts off here pretty abruptly sorry about that)

[vroomvroommbtch]

Car’s outside - DR x fem!OC

Masterlist

Summary: They hated the distance more than anything in the world, so they finally get to do something about it. 

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!OC

Warnings:  Fluff af and language bc idk how to write without swearing.

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Did I spend my whole Saturday writing this? Yes. Was ROC an inspiration somehow? Maybe. I’m obsessed with writing 2018 Dan and Jas? Absolutely. The fact that I finished this is a miracle?? Yes sir. Anyway, hi kids! This one its kind of short but cute af so I hope you like it. I love this two together bc they’re the most wholesome couple in the world. Whatever, hope u like it and let’s pray I get to post again soon lol Let me know what you think?? See ya soon!  ♥️✌🏻

---

Car’s outside.

-

July 2018.

London was gloomy. It was yet another grey day waiting for the rain to fall at any given time, but Jas knew what made it even more grey and sad was Daniel’s bags right by the door, waiting for him to grab them and leave. He was going to leave the next morning because he needed to be in Germany for yet another race, which meant just being able to see him through the screen of her phone. It meant no kissing, no touching, no hugging and just thinking about it made Jas feel uneasy.

After almost one month of blissful kind of domestic life, letting each other go for two weeks sounded insane. Damn, it wasn’t even two whole weeks because she was gonna be in Hungary for the last race of the first part of the calendar. She was gonna be there by his side ready to go on vacations with Daniel as soon as his job was done, but it felt awful even if they were going to be two hours' flight from each other. Two hours flight and nine days apart and she was gonna be back in his arms. Nine pathetic long days to be back in her favorite place in the world. To think about that was what made it bearable.

After six months of relationship, Jas was still not used to letting him go. None of them were used to letting each other go. Even if Daniel was used to not spending much time with his family and friends, he was always telling Jas how difficult it was for him too. ‘I just fucking hate letting you go’ was what he said time after time as they covered each other in kisses. There was no better way to describe it, that’s why during that grey night Jas hugged him a bit tighter, trying to not wake him up in the process. His idea of watching a movie turned into Daniel falling asleep half an hour into whatever random movie he picked up. Then that turned into Jas ignoring the movie and putting her focus on her boyfriend. His face was hiding in the crock of her neck, slow breaths hitting her skin and messy curls tickling her. Even when it was the middle of the goddamn summer and outside it was warm and humid, all she wanted was to stay like that forever, with Daniel using her as his pillow. All she wanted was to make the night longer so Tuesday wouldn’t come.

They both knew how things were and that at some point they always had to say goodbye, but this time was especially hard. Everything was a rollercoaster since Monaco. After their love confession that Sunday everything clearly was different. After that day everything was somehow way more intense, that included the sadness of flying back home to Dublin when Daniel had to go to Canada. She hated it. She hated having to kiss him goodbye and the ‘See you again soon’ promise. She hated those long farewell hugs knowing she couldn’t stay there forever. She hated the feeling inside her chest because her whole body was yelling for her to drop everything and stay. After all, that was the right thing to do. But she had to ignore it, take a deep breath, push the knot in her throat to a side all to whisper a shy ‘I love you’ with a sad smile on her face.

But his week in Canada felt somehow short. The nights were terrible and felt eternal, but the afternoons weren’t that bad and the next thing she knew Jas was on her way to the airport to pick Daniel up. After that, they didn’t move from each other’s side. They went from Dublin to France, not just for the race but also to spend her birthday there. After that they went to Austria and thank God she was there not only for his birthday but also to do everything in her power to calm him down after that terrible DNF on Sunday. After that, they went to the UK and that’s where they had been since then.

It was weeks of waking up and going to bed by his side. It was weeks of not being able to bathe alone because Daniel would sneak in the shower with her every single time. It was weeks of waking up with Daniel between her legs or covering her body with kisses and doing the same for him. It was weeks of giggling as they reminded each other to not be so loud because they were in a hotel room, and someone would complain about the noise. Then it was days of almost a normal life in London. It was days of doing the most normal things a couple could do. It was days of making dinner, grocery shopping, getting a text from Daniel saying ‘I’m on my way home’ and knowing he was not talking about a place but about her. It was weeks of being home simply because they were together, not caring about the country they were in.

After all that she didn’t want to move from his side, but she needed to go back home, and Daniel needed to go to Germany, but all that could wait till the next day. She even wanted to leave dinner for a bit later if that included not moving from her place. They were perfectly fitted together on the couch, and she was so comfortable that moving felt like a tragedy. Moving from there left wrong, but she didn’t have much of an option. All she could do was wish time would freeze for a while, but it was nothing but impossible.

“Baby...” Jas called him as softly as possible, running her fingers around his back under his shirt and tangling her other hand in his messy curls. But just like she imagined, all she got in response was a soft groan coming from her boyfriend, which didn’t surprise her at all. “Danny, baby, c'mon, you gotta get up. I gotta go make dinner” she insisted as she kissed his forehead.

If something always worked with sleepy Daniel was the threat of Jas leaving his side. She couldn’t blame him because every time she would do the same. Every time one of them would be asleep, if the other threatened with leaving, they would automatically react. This time wasn’t different. This time, with the threat of Jas leaving his side, Daniel tightened his grip around her waist, making his statement very clear. “Don’t” was all he said, voice so sleepy and raspy that it did nothing but give Jas another reason to stay.

“Can you look at me, sunshine?” Jas asked gently, kissing his forehead once more. And true to his promise of making all her wishes come true, Daniel looked at her. With the sleepiest face and through half-opened eyelids, Daniel moved out of his little shelter and looked at her. And fuck, how she loved him and his handsome face. She could spend hours just looking at him and kissing every inch of his face. She could stay there the whole night kissing those perfect lips and looking at his brown eyes. All that and his contiguous smile and his crazy curls and that tanned skin were her perdition, so she had to do a big effort to focus and talk again. “Dia duit, grà“

“I’ve no idea what the fuck you just said but it sounded sexy” Daniel murmured, running his nose against hers as he slowly moved one of his hands to her ass, just to rest it here as he would normally do.

And like every single time, Jas would smile and steal one kiss as she moved impossibly close to him because it was never enough when it comes to being near Daniel. “Weren't’ you asleep?” she wondered as his fingers slowly moved around her skin. Not that she couldn’t blame him when she was wearing nothing but panties and one of his shirts.  

“Yeah, but my sexy girlfriend woke me up” he smirked, knocking the air out of her lungs like every time he did that. Daniel’s smile could convince her of absolutely everything, so she could imagine how that night was gonna end.

“Excuse me, you're the one who abandoned me in the middle of the movie. You’re very lucky you’re handsome and I love you very much” Jas joked, poking his ribs as she tried to sound as serious as possible. She was the one who normally would fall asleep in his arms so she would never blame him for such a thing. Nothing would make her feel better than to know that Daniel could get some rest from to time after such a complicated year, so he could sleep all she wanted. The only problem was when she wouldn’t be able to leave the couch without waking him up because he decided to turn into a human version of a koala.

“Sorry ‘bout that, princess” he murmured, moving his fingers through the elastic of her panties as he kissed his way back to her neck. “I can pay you back for the inconvenient”

It took everything from her to not follow his lead. It took everything to not beg Daniel to fuck her right then and there on the couch as they would normally do. It took even more of her to ignore the way he was getting hard against her leg and especially to not move her hip against him. There was  nothing she wanted more than to ride him until the only thing Daniel could remember was her name, but she had to be a grown-up woman and be responsible. She needed to be a grown-up woman even when Daniel was doing his best effort to change her mind with kisses, some gentle bites, and licks on her skin while grabbing handfuls of her ass.

“Later. Now I got shit to do, beauty. Gotta go make dinner” she breathed, biting her tongue as she kept to herself the moan that was threatening to leave her mouth when Daniel kissed the weak spot on her neck.  

“Later”. Another bite, another lick, another kiss, another push of their hips together.

It was terribly hard to resist.

“C’mon, sunshine, I gotta feed you. Mike ain’t here to do the dirty job and if I don’t put food in your body, he’ll kill me, and you’ll get hungry and grumpy” Jas insisted, moving her free hand from his back to his chest to rest it there. Having her hand under his shirt wasn’t going to help much to the situation, but she just couldn’t help it.

“We can order. Besides, you’re the one who gets grumpy when you’re hungry”  

He knew her well. He knew her too damn well. Six months together and Daniel already knew her like the back of his hand. He knew she would get grumpy if she was hungry, he knew how to put a smile on her face even on the worse days, the way to make her fall asleep when it seemed impossible, how to make her moan as any other man could ever do, how to convince her to stop being mad at him even when she could never really get mad at him. Daniel knew all the weak points on her body to make her beg for more and to leave her breathless. But beyond all, Daniel could make her smile brighter and bigger than anyone in the whole world. He knew the way to her heart better than anyone else in the world and that’s why it belonged to him.

But Jas knew Daniel as well as he knew her, that’s why she couldn’t help but smile when he said those words. “You’re the one who complains every time we order something! You’re the one who says my food's better”

“Cause your food’s always better” he affirmed, and Jas could feel his smile against her skin. No matter where they ordered, no matter to which amazing restaurant they went, Daniel would always somehow smile and say ‘It was alright, but I like your food better’. Jas would always joke and say there was no need to lie to her to get laid that night, but she knew Daniel wasn’t joking. Jas was no chef, she was far from that, but unlike her sister, Jas paid attention to the kitchen lessons Aoife and Esmé gave her during her life. What she did was nothing but basic meals, but Daniel said time after time that he loved it. It took a late-night talk over a couple of glasses of wine for Daniel to admit he loved it simply because it tasted like home. After leaving home so young, after being away from Perth for so much time, and especially after being on the road that much, homemade food was something that he could have counted times, so having that thanks to Jas were like a little privilege for him. That’s why Jas tried to cook as much as possible for him when they were together, even when she was too lazy and order sounded like the best option.

“Then let me go and make you some. It’ll be fast. You can keep napping meanwhile. Plus, I ain’t gonna put on my shorts so you can look at my ass while I go” Jas insisted. But when she felt Daniel’s arms going back to her waist to hug her as tightly as possible, and when his lips just gave her one last kiss and then stayed there, she knew there was something else. “What’s going on, baby?”

It took him a second to talk. She could feel his body against her taking a deep breath, she could feel his breath hitting her neck as it left his lips, but more than anything she could feel the doubt in his body. It was hard to think he was the same guy who drove the fastest car in the world. It was crazy to think he was the one who loved to get scared once in a while just because. But Jas knew that guy was also her Danny. Sometimes it was incomprehensible to think that man on the tv was the same man she loved. He was the same Danny that would come to her in the good days and when the world felt too much and when he didn’t want to see anyone else. That was the same Daniel that Jas could feel was doubting and trying to pick the right words to say to his girlfriend. And knowing him the way she did, Jas just waited. She kissed his shoulder, traced lines on his back, and played with his curls as she waited for him to find the right way to say whatever he needed to say. If he needed time, she had all the time in the world for him. And if that wasn’t enough, she was ready to somehow invent more time for him.

“I just don’t want you to go. Not even to the kitchen for five minutes”

There was the issue.

It happened once in a while. Normally, it happened every time they had to let each other go. They knew it was a normal reaction knowing they will have to be away for more time than they will like to. Normally it was Jas the one who had to be reminded that everything was gonna be alright. Generally, it was Daniel the one who had to hold her and promise things were gonna be fine, but sometimes it was the other way around. Sometimes, like that night, Jas was the one who had to be the strong one and make the promises even when her own heart was breaking just for hearing him.

“Baby, we talked about it. Now it's just nine silly days, but then we’ll figure out the rest after the summer break. Y’know I’m not going anywhere” she stated, repeating the same promise they also made at least once a week. Their little ‘I’m not going anywhere’ was something normal. It was a reminder. It was their promise to each other. It was one of the things that kept them going on the worst days.

“I know” Daniel nodded, kissing her one last time her neck as he moved to his previous place, finally looking at her face. “I just wish you could come with me”

“I don’t want you to go but it’s work, love. It's your job”

“I know that too, J, but I miss you. And it’s selfish but I want you around. I need you around, princess” he confessed, moving his right hand out of her waist to look for her hand.

“I miss you too, you hear me? I miss you every single day that you’re not around. It sucks when we’re not together” she murmured, getting close to giving him a long, sweet, loving kiss. But even when their kiss was over, Jas didn’t move. She stayed right there in her place with their lips touching. “I love you so fucking much that it kills me when you’re away. I spend the days counting the minutes till I can see your handsome face again, y’know? That’s how crazy I am for you”

“Then come with me, baby. And not just the next two races, come with me the rest of the year, baby”. They talked about it too. They talked about Jas joining him, but somehow, they ended up agreeing on talking about it at some point in the future. The excuse was them wanting to go slow and how she was supposed to be helping in Aoife’s flower shop until Jas figure out what she wanted to do next, but truth was, she was nothing but scared. She was so in love with Daniel that it was terrifying and the fact that Daniel was in love with her was also scary. So far that one was the most wonderful relationship she ever had so she was terrified of ruining it by going with him to every single race. The idea of ruining it in any way just petrified her, but she knew she couldn’t keep postponing their happiness out of fear. She couldn’t do it when Daniel needed her. The emotional rollercoaster of leaving Redbull was coming, and Daniel needed his people around him, which included Jas in one of the first positions. She couldn’t postpone it when she needed him too. “I know what you think and you’re not gonna be a burden, J. You could never be one”

That was also one of the things that were stopping Jas. Joining Daniel mean leaving her job -even if it was with her mom and if it was temporary-, and it also mean depending on him until she could find a job that would allow her to travel. She knew money wasn’t a problem, Daniel was the one paying for her plane tickets, and he would give her a look if she would ever try paying for anything, but she didn’t want to be that kind of girl. She didn’t want people to think she was there for the money, she didn’t want his family and friends to think she was there for it. She didn’t even touch the extension of his card he gave her weeks ago, too scared to give that step. She didn’t want to be a burden in his life when he had already too many things on his mind, so she just gave excuses, but clearly, that was the end of it.

“Danny, I-“ she tried to interrupt, but he cut her with another kiss before he kept talking.

“We can talk about that later, but it’s not important” he insisted, bringing their joined hands together to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “I need you by my side, baby. This year’s been fucking crazy and I don’t think I’m ready to live the rest of it without you. And I know I’m asking for a lot, but can you at least think about it?”

Everyone told her to go slow. Everyone told her to take a deep breath and a firm step on her decision when it came to her relationship with Daniel. It wasn’t that her family or friends didn’t like Daniel, in fact, they adore him, but they also knew Jas. They could see how everything was going fast and the last thing anyone wanted was to see her getting hurt. Not that they thought Daniel would do something to hurt her, but the nature of their relationship was complicated. Distance was hard, his job was complicated and what came with it was even more tricky, so the advice everyone would give her was to think about her choices and not jump into it. That would be the advice she would give to her friend or her sister, but everything was out of the window when it came to Daniel. In the heart vs heart fight, her heart would always win and this time it wasn’t different. This time she could even hear her family and friends asking what the hell was she doing, saying how she was insane, and even checking twice if she was sure about her choice. She could hear her mom and dad talking and telling her to not put her life aside for him, but the second she saw Daniel’s eyes everything else disappeared.

There was nothing else besides his big brown eyes looking at her, shining full of love. There was nothing like their joined hands against his chest and how she could feel his heart beating. There was nothing as the expectation written all over his face as he waited for her answer. But beyond all, there was nothing like the way he made her feel. There was nothing as the love, happiness, and safety she felt by his side, so even if everything could go terribly wrong, she decided to take a leap of faith, hoping everything would turn out just fine.

“Alright, I’m coming. But you paying everything’s temporary, you hear me? I don’t want you to-“. But before Jas could even finish what she was saying, she got interrupted again by Daniel’s lips against her. But this time it wasn’t just him kissing her mouth, this time it was kissing all around her face and neck, all while he whispered ‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!’ again and again and again. “You’re welcome, but I’m serious, Dan!”

“Money is something that comes with the job and since I earned it I can spend it on whatever I want, alright? That includes bringing my girl with me. There’s no better what to spend it” he smiled, giving Jas his best smile, which normally would convince her of anything on a normal day.

And maybe another day he could convince her, but that night she wasn’t giving up, so she pointed to him with one finger as she talked firmly. “Temporary, okay?”

“Whatever makes you happy, babe” he nodded, kissing her fingertip as he kept smiling.

If he was happy then it was worth the pain.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now as a payback, you can start ordering food and taking your clothes off” she teased, but like every time, for Daniel her wishes were his command.

And if Daniel was happy, Jas was happy too, so it was more than worth the pain.    

---

Taglist

@amsofftrack​ @d0ntjudgemy50shades​ @a-distantdreamer​ @honeybadgercomeback​