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dadsbongos · 1 month ago

Text

on hard times

5.4k words / summary - jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly's hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

warnings - fem!reader, piv sex, noncon jimmy, stepcest, objectification/sexism (thank u jimmy), curly and jimmy should both be shot in the head

reader is 20 not actually a teenager.

[B Side: Jimmy Zare]

Sitting in a hospital room is not unfamiliar to Jimmy, the only peculiarity to it now being that he’s the one in a gown with his ass out. He’s perched over the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees and flicking an unlit cigarette between two fingers. Below him is a head of flaxen hair, thick hands unzipping a black bag full to the lumps of plain long-sleeves and jeans and socks.

Grant Curly is Jimmy's sole emergency contact. Mrs. Grant Curly used to be Curly's emergency contact. Next was Grant Curly senior. Then Jimmy Zare.

Jimmy thinks that's fucked up. He should have a Mrs. Jimmy Zare and a Jimmy Zare senior and then, finally and as a last resort, there would be Grant Curly.

But, unfortunately, that’s just not true.

Curly now rolls socks on both Jimmy’s feet. Patting the man’s ankle in a way meant to be reassuring, but only squeezes repulsion from Jimmy’s face.

“I can dress myself,” he sneers.

Lots of remarks could’ve followed from Curly’s mouth -- most apparent being: why’d you let me get this far? None of them come, though, Curly simply nods and stands and kicks the bag closer to where Jimmy’s legs dangle over the edge.

“You got everything?” Curly grimaces at his own question, “What happened to your phone?”

Jimmy shrugs before shucking on a stiff pair of jeans, grunting with the effort and cupping his bruised over stomach, “Dunno.”

Curly bites back a sigh, Jimmy watches it happen in real time: a little bit more faith in him is eaten back by disappointment.

All the same, he pulls over a black long sleeve. Violet stomach screaming in protest as he hisses a curse for his dimwitted neighbor, stumbling back into the bed.

“Alright,” Curly bends, hands out to assist Jimmy in standing, “Let’s get you home.”

Jimmy elbows his friend away, paying no mind the pained wheeze he lets out, before stumbling onto two feet by himself. In the hand not bracing his abdomen, is a crinkled plastic bag with vomit-stained clothes and a peeling leather belt.

In silence they wade through the buzzing clinical halls. Hours prior this same hallway was in chaos, Jimmy knows that -- he just doesn’t remember it. Not between yellow-black dots sucking out the light in his eyes or the stinging remnants of bile around his teeth. Now the corridor is sleepier, and stars are beginning to crawl out from behind the horizon.

Jimmy wonders if he waited until now- if his neighbor would’ve had her kids already in bed, too tired to check out the next trailer over rattling-

He supposes it doesn’t matter. He’s already breaking out toward the parking lot with Curly.

Who then takes a bold step toward the bubblegum Jeep with no back doors, which he knows is not Curly’s car. Meaning one thing,

“Oh,” Curly says like a last minute thought, “Kid’s home, by the way. I hope that’s fine.”

He smiles in such a tight way that slyly communicates: it better be fine because there’s no fighting this. All importance Mrs. Grant Curly took up in the man’s life was drained instantly when she served divorce papers; a space rapidly refilled with the child from a previous marriage. The crooked thorn in Jimmy’s side. The new emergency contact. You.

“Why do you even have a room for it?” Jimmy shuffles into the passenger side, scooting the seat forward and leaving the seatbelt dangling at his shoulder, “Not your kid.”

Curly waves off such criticism, “I love her! She’s nice and funny, everything I could’ve wanted.”

“Ugh,” Jimmy gags, eyes fluttering shut, “Do I get my own room, or do I have to share?”

If his eyes were open, he’s certain he’d be forced to gaze upon that same pressed smile. That stale smile that says more than enough. Jimmy will not like this.

“You got the couch or my bed,” a click and hum vibrates Jimmy in his seat before the car electrifies with whistling pop music. Big chunky tires rolling onto the highway back into clean cut suburbs.

Jimmy cringes at the moaning welps over the radio and flings a hand out, one eye creaking open just enough to make out the volume knob between his crowding lashes. Twisting it far down while croaking,

“You’re a grown ass man, the fuck are you listening to that shit for?”

“It’s just what she left on,” Curly’s jovial, despite the rude quizzing, “You don’t like a bit of girly pop?”

Jimmy glares, turning his whole head to spit daggers toward his friend, “If that little cunt is playing this shit while I’m over, one of us is dying.”

Curly just laughs, then quietly murmurs -- too quiet to be taken seriously, “Don’t call her that.”

Curly is like the sun. Big and bright and nurturing no matter how violently you resist. Making Jimmy mercury: small and red and forever revolving around him.

Upon pulling into the broad driveway up to Curly’s two-story home, Jimmy’s already rich negative attitude only sours more. He spots the sleek little navy blue Toyota Corolla (that’s seen more blood and sweat and tears than your cute two-seater would ever know about) closer to the door.

“Why’d you pick me up in this if your car was here?”

“I figured you’d appreciate this one more,” Curly snarks, killing the engine and jingling your ring of chains with two keys. One for the house and one for your car. Aside from that is a rose gold blinged out rectangle with your name on it, pink little plastic cats, a metal fairy, and purple fuzzy dice.

“Figured wrong,” Jimmy slinks out, curling the clear bag of his belongings to his chest before patting the plastic with loud ‘pops’ as the pair steps through the front door, “I wanna wash this.”

Curly hisses lowly, head turning toward the very obviously clunking washing machine in the utility closet, “I think she’s doing a load right now.”

Ideally, Jimmy would toss his shit in with yours but God forbid the princess gets just a little crusted vomit washed off alongside her delicate thin dresses and lace panties.

“Then I just leave this shit?”

“Looks like it.”

Jimmy really hates you -you’re a little bitch. And you’re hopping down the stairs in a yellow Pony Express shirt three sizes too big for you, smiling, waving, melodically chirping:

”Hi, Uncle Jimmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” Jimmy huffs at you, eye rolling while Curly’s back still faces him from the kitchen.

You stop at the foot of the steps and pout out at him, “Jeez, aren’t you rude? Did they have to amputate your heart out there?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes again, this time with more apparent gusto. He flips you off to boot. You pull an offended scowl before trampling over to Curly and tugging the back of his shirt, murmuring dirt and shit and lies into his big ear. Curly doesn’t spare the energy of twisting back before calling out,

“Jim’ play nice, please?!”

Jimmy hates you. You’re not even Curly’s. You were just some teenage sulk when you came into their lives, and now you’re some codependent wimp living at home. Despite the blonde never complaining about this fact, Jimmy just knows it’s insane that you’re still clinging around. It’s all that pampering Curly did on you.

You skip back out, hands tied behind your back with that awful smile. Rosy lipped with just the perfect sliver of teeth showing, and the apples of your cheeks glowing. The best part of you perched like that is that he can make out the plumpness of your tits -- could probably even reach out and squeeze one before you manage untangling your hands to shove him off.

“So, how long are you staying?” your soft voice grates him again,

Shrugging at you, Jimmy confesses, “Until I get my own house back.”

Your mouth opens, brows furrowed, then they dart up in shock -or perhaps realization- and your mouth closes. You nod and look back at Curly, then again at Jimmy, “Okay,” and prattle back into the kitchen.

Murmuring ensues.

That’s when Curly presses, “Jim’, are you takin’ my room or the couch?!”

More murmuring. You hiss something and he can see the whip of your arm as you whack the blonde’s arm. He laughs quietly and waltzes out, shaking his head a bit,

“Sorry, little lady says you’ve gotta take the couch.”

Jimmy’s scowl must be so hilarious because Curly just laughs harder. You come out whining, smacking at the man’s arm again with a belated shush.

Your concern is brushed off without thought, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

You love Grant, really. He’s been a massive teddy bear since the day you met, but his fatal flaw is his guilted sense of devotion. Especially when it revolved around dear old Uncle Jimmy.

A soft jingle and hiss clues you all to the sudden silence where a machine once clanged. Jimmy spares no seconds before thumbing over his shoulder and seething at you, “Change your load over. I got shit to wash.”

“Grant, don’t let him talk to me like that!” you stomp your foot and whine.

“‘Grant’,” Jimmy mimics your voice, tone nasally and drawn impossibly high.

“Already bickering,” Curly plasters on his worst smile yet, hands fisted on his hips, “This’ll be a good time.”

***

It, decidedly, has not been a good time.

Not in the mornings.

“Grant’s out for his jog,” you mumble around a spoonful of fruity cereal. Milk faintly pink from the artificial dyes.

Jimmy doesn’t even dignify you with a response, prowling from the bed with his striped pajama pants sagging and an unmatching black beater swerved to expose one of his nipples.

“You have a tit piercing?” said with undeniably judgment. Poking the bear just to prove it won’t do anything.

As expected, you receive sullen silence. Jimmy only confirms he heard you in how he roughly yanks the thin material to cover the silver bar through his nipple.

That’s precisely when you spot something sure to make the bear roar. Thin line upon thin line, now blistering white and all stacked in uneven rows along each forearm. A couple stretch past his elbow. You open your mouth, then think better of pointing those out. Partially from some undeserved pity, and partially because of some fleeting certainty he’ll actually kill you over that remark.

“Slept in real late today, huh?” is what you decide on instead.

Jimmy, again, completely skimps you. Rooting around the cabinets until he finds the shiniest bowl and clacking it loudly on the marble counter. Taking down your box of pebbles cereal, ignoring your scoffed protests, and pouring out an overly generous portion. Despite his determination to dodge you, he throws down his bowl -splattering milk over the hardwood table as he does- right beside yours.

Chair skidding out before he hunches over the table. Elbows ungracefully planted on either side of his bowl.

From your peripherals, you watch Jimmy eat. Milk dribbles down his greyed scruff and he crunches open-mouthed, you can identify each sugary morsel just before it’s mashed into rainbow paste. No amount of blatant cringing or sighing does you any favors, so you resort to simply abandoning breakfast before you hurl what’s gone down.

Little do you know that as you rise, so too does the material of your itty bitty silk shorts. Riding up into your ass until fat is spilling out the bottom, and Jimmy hones in on the sight as soon as you’re up. Following with utmost interest as you round the table and perch onto the silver sink ledge, flicking on the hot tap. Definitely prettier bent over the counter than when you’re talking.

If you were his step-daughter you’d probably never leave the house. He’d have the door deadbolted from the outside.

Jimmy blinks at that. Leaning back in his chair, stare unwavering as your hips veer left and right with the effort of scrubbing out dried cereal, and folding his arms. He blinks again, this time with more confidence in his chest.

There’s a reason you’re here, and it isn’t because you’re Curly’s kid.

“Hey,” Jimmy’s voice is buried in the back of his throat, all gravel and rock beneath every different thing he actually wants to say. Eyes rounding over your exposed ass cheeks, “Why’d your parents split?”

Your guttural offense is pretty indicating, “Grant’s not my dad.”

“You still live with him.”

“Yeah, when I’m not on campus.”

Jimmy’s silence is so stagnant, you have to turn to confirm he’s still in the room.

Surprisingly, he is, and he’s staring right at you. Every muscle in his face stony, a hardset confidence as if he knows everything before he even opens his mouth, “Your mom’s just downtown, isn’t she?”

Rather than rationalize -whether it’s a lie or not- you swallow the nerves in your throat and turn back on him, “Why do you care so much? Do you wanna live here forever or something?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Then be curious about why you don’t have your own place yet,” if you spent even a second longer at that sink then you would’ve gotten a ceramic bowl buried into your skull.

Luckily you immediately break for the stairs, jumping them two at a time (joke’s on your stupid ass anyway, now he’s memorizing the way your tits jiggle up each step).

Not out on errands.

Jimmy’s leaning against the rickety cart with a plastic red handcover. Head drooped to one shoulder, silently observing as you stretch up to grab a jar of Curly’s favored peanut butter from the top shelf.

“You can ask for help,” Jimmy sneers.

You ignore him, flagrantly. Even kicking a leg onto the bottom shelf, selfishly knocking over thin blue boxes of macaroni with your other foot stretching backward. One hand clutching the middle of the bay for purchase, the other high above your head.

“Fine, be a bitch about it,” he sighs and sinks back.

Suddenly thankful he did because at this angle with you reaching for that height: your little cotton panties suctioned against your pussy lips become visible beneath that teeny pleated skirt. A studded belt hangs limply around the loops.

The swell of your ass is more obvious from down here, too.

Jimmy hangs a little more to the side, slowly fishing out his phone and holding it at his chest. Eyes drawing toward the screen as he ensures his flash is off before snapping a far away picture. Then two fingers crawl over the glass, pinching at your cunt and zooming in for another three pics.

Briefly, he wonders if he could get away with reaching out and pulling aside the gusset for the holy grail of shots.

Just as his hands are twitching to carry out the mull-over, you’re fucking turning. Sweaty and huffing,

“Okay, fine, can you grab this?”

Jimmy pockets his phone with an eye roll and easily swipes the orange-lidded jar into your cart.

Not at dinner.

“You get this every night?” Jimmy asks, undeniably lewd with thighs sprawled apart on the chair. A hand clutching either knee.

Curly shrugged, hands politely folded over his abdomen, “Not every night. Sometimes we order in.”

“Your own housewife in training,” Jimmy whistles, watching you at the stove and not bothering to temper his volume, “Guy that puts a ring on it will be lucky.”

Out of minuscule respect for Curly, Jimmy decides against vocalizing the rest of his statement.

Still, though, Curly has the gall to look offended. Broad chest puffing out and thick jaw setting into a disturbed square. Hands curling around each other less politely now, and his knee starts bouncing as he says,

“Won’t need a husband when dad’s here for her.”

Jimmy can only laugh as you visibly cringe upon the utterance of that dreaded ‘D’-word.

“What do you think of that, kid?” Jimmy rolls one elbow over the back of his chair, spare hand now flattening over the table, “No husband, just Dad.”

“He’s not my dad…” you grumble, not unlike that pouty, sulky teenager you were when you and Jimmy first met.

“Well, any dating prospects?” it’s the most tender Jimmy has been with you yet, and by the immediate glow in your face he can read your appreciation.

Curly, however, is the one to answer -a much more rotten expression written over his face, “No,” he frightens himself with how aggressively the two letters spit out, so he tries again with the tiniest, fakest chuckle, “No suitors yet.”

And now you’re pissed, glaring at Curly before whipping right back around.

Jimmy revels in it. Watching you and your step-dad silently bat one argument over the other. He wonders if you two really think it’s all over his head.

And certainly not at night.

On the way to your room is Curly’s. Curly is a deep sleeper, so Jimmy has never felt more assured than right now as he twists the handle on your bedroom door.

Unlocked. As it should be. Your sweet heart entirely unassuming to the dangerous wiles of men twice your age.

He bets your pussy is even sweeter than your heart. It has to be when your personality is so gratingly cliche. Maybe by the end he’ll be even more bewitched by you than Curly.

The thought makes him snort.

Steadily planting a knee onto your marshmallow mattress, Jimmy soothes one hand over your thigh -- kicked over fluffy pink blankets. Soft skin that bounces right back into place. Firm and dewy. Your body embraces him completely, which he already knew it would.

A crackly groan makes his eyes dart from your thigh to your face scrunching at the sudden contact.

Silently, he squeezes, just to see the exact moment you rouse behind those batting lashes.

Initially, you smile -tight-lipped- until your bleary vision makes out the figure on your bed. That exact moment, when you realize who’s groping up your thigh, is when your smile tears apart.

“Calm down,” he husks into the open air of your bedroom, calloused palms cutting along your waist and pausing at the warmth of your collar bones, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

Now is when you kick. A startled gasp shoved back behind the palm of his hand, fingers clamping tight around your jaw. He swings a leg over yours, effectively straddling your pelvis. Grinding down between your legs, something thick and hard protruding from the loose stripes of his pajama pants.

“Feel that?” he taunts, pressing against you harder, lowering his face by yours until the stiff scruff along his cheeks is tearing up your soft skin, “That’s my dick, and it’s going inside you.”

A scream is muffled against his thick palm, you smack at his ribs but he pushes forward without constraint, wrenching up your silk candy slips. The sleaziest little smirk smears over his entire face as your boobs spill out, he cuffs the material to your throat. Pressing your legs open with his own, kneeling on one of your thighs with his full weight and you’re sure the bone’s going to snap. Another scream dies against his meaty hand.

Reaching up, you knot one hand in his stringy hair -yanking out chunks of chestnut- and crushing fingerprints into his eyes.

“Be -fuckin’- nice,” Jimmy tugs you down the bed, blanketing your body with his, “to Uncle Jimmy, yeah?” he snickers in your wide-eyed, sweaty face, quickly swapping the hand over your mouth with his lips. Spearing your face open with his tongue, slobbering over you.

Burying your knees into Jimmy’s sides does about as much as it would if you flicked paper in his face.

Jimmy peels off your thin lace panties, balling them up in one hand and yoinking down his pants with the other. Stretchy hem now digging halfway down his thighs, he taps the hot head against your clit. Then sliding it down your slit, highlighting around your hole with two circles. Grunting against your lips, sinking just beneath the seam to drag back up toward the twitchy little pink bundle up top.

Licking over your tongue one final time, he saps up the final sweet mint taste from your toothpaste before pulling back. Pecking you, outrageously chaste for a man now bruising your tits with his fingers, before parting altogether.

Sneering, “Keep quiet for me,” and stuffing your own panties into your sodden, swollen mouth.

Jimmy heaves your knees over his shoulders, bending over you before sliding in -- staring you dead in the eyes as he lets out the most dramatic huff. You gasp as he sheathes in a single swing, throwing your head back at the sudden stretch with a grunt following.

“Soft and warm,” he hums, biting at your pulse with sick glee, “Tight.”

You wail in protest, but it gurgles out a little sweeter. Just a tad higher pitched than you mean for. Eyes watering and back arching as you try budging for even slight breathing room.

Stubbornly, Jimmy locks his chest against your bouncing tits. Eyes needling down at the pillowing flesh, hard nipples peeking out with every ragged thrust. Thrusts that get smoother, steadier, wetter the longer he’s inside you.

Cold teeth dig into your neck, velvet tongue laving the area as he sucks welts along your skin. Hot pants fanning the juncture with every gushy dive of his hips. Then he laughs out the cruelest dig when that first splat rings around the sweltering room:

“Take it so good, princess,” just to continue with a snide, “Knew you would.”

Biting down on your spit-soaked panties provides superficial comfort, squeals still leaking from the corners of your mouth. Muffled, but not silenced.

“What would your old man think about this?” he chokes, pulling up enough to stare down at your pinched face, “You’re gonna cum for me.”

One of his hands settles over your throat, crushing the sides warmly. Not enough to actually choke you, but just so there’s bruises by tomorrow morning.

“He’ll have to get rid of one of us,” Jimmy hisses coldly, now scarring his bottom lip with crooked teeth, brows furrowing as his cock twitches in your sucking cunt.

it better be you he thinks curly was mine before you

He spits down onto where you’re swallowing him up -- frothy spit dribbling cooly over your clit and along the broken seam he fucks. Instinctually, your hips buck up for it -for more. Thighs clamping around his neck and throat bobbing with a trapped moan.

A practically inaudible yadyyee manages to break past your gag, Jimmy snickers as you crow louder aaatyyyy as you seize around and below him. Eyes flying open and nails scratching up to reopen silvery scars on his arms as you nearly choke on your own slick panties.

“And is this the part when I call you ‘baby’?” he draws a thumb beneath your shiny lip, spit webbing your skin together, “Whore,” is what he chooses instead, “Cumming like the pretty slut I knew you were.”

And just like the slut he knew you were the second he saw you, you grind into his pistoning. Tears caking your lashes and cheeks flaming hot, your body still caves to any attention it’s given.

He knew it the second you were introduced to him. In a spaghetti strap and short shorts with bleached bangs. Dressed like every other little pornstar in the making. Hellbent on catching as many eyes as possible just to rip it away like he was some yippy puppy content to be played with and walked and given little treats. Maybe your dad was, but Jimmy never had that paternal instinct.

Jimmy just wanted to defile you.

And now you live under the same roof: you’re all his.

Last minute, Jimmy slides out easier than he went in and beats his cock into your pubes. Rivulets of your wetness roll down the curve of your ass with nothing to plug you up, sheets darkening beneath you.

Tugging your panties out so hard he nearly knocks out a tooth, Jimmy balls them again and licks up the drool from your chin. Knuckles catching your overstimulated clit as he frantically jerks off, hips cracking forward until your pelvis is streaked in thick white ropes.

Pitchy and broken you wail, “Daddy…!”

Jimmy could’ve cackled in your face, if not for the sound of metal clicking over his shoulder.

And maybe the sight before him -Curly in the doorway, clutching the brass knob hard enough for his knuckles to whiten- could’ve been terrifying. Men kill other men for touching their daughters, after all. But all that intimidation flies out your window, decorated with the daintiest peach curtains, as soon as Jimmy spots the tent in Curly’s boxers.

Curly reads the electric glint in his old friend’s eyes. Something bright and livelier than he’s seen from the man in a long while.

Something that makes him feel relieved he doesn’t have to keep the medicine cabinet locked.

Something that says: I know why your wife left you.

*** ***

[A Side: Grant Curly]

“It’s late, Grant…”

“I told you not to call me that.”

An eye roll is the last thing he wants to see. He scowls, drunkenly, and shoves his head into his hands with all the indignity of a child.

“You really think drinking makes you easier to talk to? It’s no wonder you make her so…”

“So what?”

The stilted silence preceding a sigh tells him the what he needs to know. Unhappiness permeates the house now. Having it all pinned on him feels so fucking unfair, so fucking untrue.

“You know what,” another sigh, this time more playful -more throaty and evidently annoyed, “Daddy.”

“I thought marriages didn’t fall apart until at least the fifth year…” he pouts up at you, again with all the righteousness of a toddler.

You smack his arm, “You guys have been dating longer, anyway. Besides, you kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work out, right?”

“I thought we’d be okay.”

Two hands settle on either of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the knotted muscle between his shoulder blades and up toward his stiff neck. Pulling tense flesh until he’s all malleable and soft again.

Curly groans, pleased, and leans into your touch. Laying his head against the back of the couch to stare up at you. A lopsided smile gracing his lips as he confesses with whiskey-slick lips,

“You’re a blessing, sweetheart.”

You grace him with one of those humble, tight-lipped grins that make him all gooey in the center. A paternal feeling, he’s sure.

Whenever your mother upsets him, you’re there.

More things make Curly want to kill himself than they don’t these days. He has the sick urge to fellate a gun after most minor inconveniences, and suddenly the only way he can feel true joy is when someone half his age is fawning over him. It should be another reason he wants to die, but it isn’t. You could never be.

He places a thick hand on yours and grins, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Looping both arms around his neck, you settle your heated cheek over the back of Curly’s head and squeeze. Flushing your breasts against his back with a sugary whisper, “Probably die miserable.”

“Probably,” he reaches up to squeeze your wrist.

Knowledge would be him pushing you off right now. Wisdom would be kicking you out of his house. But that ripe, sweating instinct makes him encourage you to slither over the back of the couch.

He pulls at your cropped sweater, laughing in your flustered face as you giggle. Legs wild before you’re slipping into his lap, thighs spreading yours apart with his hands on your hips. Thumbs scarring up your bare ribs.

“How are you so like her, but so different?” he wonders aloud.

“I dunno…” you shrug off shyly. Hips ticking against his.

“Mhmm,” he lets you and leans back, eyes fluttering shut as warmth eats him from both directions. Your body is sweet while the alcohol is savory. Both ways, he’s treated with nothing but love.

Then there’s your lips on his cheek, he smiles into it. Turns his head just to kiss the air above your own cheek as he sighs,

“Thank you, baby.”

“Daddy,” your hips cant down harder and now he has to plant both feet firmly in the ground to keep from thrusting up. That would just be inappropriate, right? But no more inappropriate than what you utter next, “Can I suck you off?”

His eyes peel open one at a time. Bloodshot. Confused, “Huh?”

“I know Mom doesn’t,” you grind down on him again. The material of your oversized sleep shirt riding up. Nothing but pink lace panties greet him. Damp and sticking to his shorts, “But I really want to…”

“Uhh,” maybe if you could let him think for a second, he’d have replied better. Maybe if you could stop rubbing that wet cunt on him for even one breath, he could’ve given you the emphatic NO you deserved. But you didn’t, so he didn’t.

Instead, he just sat you on the floor and waved with one hand while the other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine, yes.”

Already, the carpet burns your knees. But you rock forward and unclink his buttons.

Without technique, but eager and hungry: your mouth sinks onto his cock. Feeling it twitch and thicken on your tongue as you whine. Hollowing your cheeks with both hands burying manicured nails into his meaty thighs. Noisily slurping the spit dribbling past your gaping lips.

Sucking more than you can handle, trying to impress Grant by tickling your nose with his wiry gold pubes just makes you gag. An abrupt gush of thick slobber waxing his pelvis.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, throwing his head back with bending brows, “Be careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself…”

Despite himself, he’s knotting hand at the back of your head. Not-so-subtly pushing your forehead against his abs.

Curly cannot verbally explain or comprehend his relationship with you in labels, the guilt just eats him up.

The comfort of a stepdaughter should be non-existent -or at the least temporary, but you’re still here. You love him and he adores you. He has no strength to beat you away.

*** he really should just die ***

Little under a year spins by before his phone rings, interrupting the unquestioned domesticity.

You caught bits of that call while perched on the kitchen counter. Bare legs left to swing while Curly stirred creamer into his coffee. His old Pony Express shirt swamped over you. A girl’s voice blisters out from the other side. You glare at the speaker in juvenile jealousy despite how displeased Curly seems to be listening to her.

Occasionally he’ll nod, no matter how ridiculous the notion is given you’re the only one looking. Jaw popping. Fingers tapping.

“But he’s alive?” is the first thing of substance he says.

Curly is Jimmy Zare’s emergency contact because Jimmy never had a Misses or a Senior to count on. Not even the highly inappropriate relationship with a young girl to lean on.

You assume that is all connected to the phone call that suddenly has him all serious.

“Okay. I’ll be out there soon,” he nods again, making you want to rip his head off it’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes, “He can stay with me… I’ll be sure.”

He doesn’t look your way after hanging up. Instead, he spares a few minutes blankly staring into the cabinets.

Curly thinks Jimmy is like the sun. Big and angry and burning with barely contained passion. Making Curly mercury: small and burnt and the first to be swallowed when Jimmy inevitably blows up.

It’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes.

“Grant?” you murmur, head tilting.

He finally satisfies your need for attention. Eyes widening as if he spontaneously forgot and then remembered who he’s looking at. He smiles tightly and pats your knee like he’s trying to comfort a child after a lost softball game,

He even speaks to you like one.

“Uncle Jimmy’s staying with us for a bit,” before you can ask anything more, he turns away toward the front door, “Try not to fight with him.”

“Eugh… He’s weird!” you protest, “Can’t he stay at a hotel?!”

Curly pokes his head out and shakes it, disappointed, at you, “He’s staying with us,” then disappears to announce, “I’m going to pick him up! Be dressed when we get back!”

You wait until he’s slammed the front door behind him before muttering, “I am dressed.”

Uncle Jimmy is the type of person men shouldn’t trust their daughters with, so maybe this is a step forward. Somewhere in the knotted affair your life became, a gleaming light assures you this means Grant has his eyes on a new Mrs. Curly.

It’s so cute how stupid step-daughters are sometimes.

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @m-carriaga2021 + @reniverse

#jimmy x reader #mouthwashing x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing smut #curly smut #jimmy smut #tw noncon

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neocitylights · 3 months ago

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SUMMARY: As you move into the building, your mysterious neighbor’s music becomes a quiet—and secret—comfort to your heart, enough for you to send them an anonymous letter. When you unexpectedly meet Mark, your connection soon growing between late-night conversations and shared meals, you find yourself falling in ways you hadn’t expected. Curiously enough, as your worlds start to overlap, you realize that there’s more to Mark and your mysterious neighbor than you’ve ever imagined. GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 9.1k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes

Moonlight welcomes you home as you finish yet another long day of seemingly endless lectures, the gleam slipping through the curtains of your living room as you slip off your shoes, dropping the heavy book bag by the door.

The apartment is quiet, as you’re coming home a little later than usual, and with a chaotic day behind you, all you need is a hot shower, a warm meal and the softness of your bed.

As you’re stripping your top off, halfway through the bathroom, you hear it—the soft, slow notes from a piano drifting through the walls of your neighbor’s apartment and into yours. The mysterious, upstairs neighbor, as you like to call them now.

It’s not the first time that the music makes its way into your place. Even though you’re yet to meet whoever resides right above you, with an impressive array of instruments at that, you’re always delighted to hear them play, especially during days like today where you’re exhausted both mentally and physically.

Today, you can recognize the melody, but can’t quite put your finger on which song it is.

Making a beeline for your bedroom instead, you sink into your bed, half-dressed as you let the sound take over your mind. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brain subconsciously filling the gaps as you start to hum the melody along.

Your mysterious neighbor and their music had slowly become a source of unexpected comfort to you.

Some days, you hear the delicate strumming of a guitar. Other days, the lightness of wandering piano notes. On special days though, you listen to the bold, intense riffs of an electric guitar instead. Every day, you welcome it, each time feeling a lullaby meant only for one night.

With the music still playing in the background, you follow through your routine in an almost dreamlike state. The mysterious neighbor plays long enough to last through your shower, unknowingly kind enough to give you the joy of having dinner with your own private live performance too.

As it stops, the silence almost feels awkward.

You can’t help but innocently imagine your neighbor, just a few steps away as they tuck in the instrument for the night, completely unaware of their unknown faithful audience.

The day is already drawing out to be a chaotic one.

As you dash out of your apartment in a rush, just barely hanging onto your bag and the coffee thermos in your hands, you mentally kick yourself for ignoring the alarm an extra time, fooling yourself that it was safe enough just for today.

You’re already unusually late, and to make matters worse, you’d dropped half of your notes as you were fumbling to lock your apartment and the elevator’s seemingly taking a lifetime to arrive at your floor.

A sigh escapes from your lips at the familiar chime of its opening doors.

You can’t help the clumsy commotion as you finally step into the cubicle, head down as you try to organize the mess of crumpled papers inside your bag, completely oblivious to the current company watching you with curious eyes.

It’s only when you literally bump into them that you finally look up, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you start, stepping back with an apologetic glance. “I swear I didn’t see you here.”

The guy offers you a quick, friendly smile, shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he backs away, giving you more space.

With a hint of a chuckle laced to his voice, he shakes his head. “No worries.”

Attentively, you glance at him with a discrete side-eye—quickly recognizing him as a fellow neighbor from a few late night lobby encounters, usually when you’re coming back from school after TA days. He looks a little different today, hair shorter and a few shades darker, though the laidback, somewhat shy vibe around him stays the same.

Since you’re still rather new to the building and haven’t met a lot of people your age yet, you can’t beat your curiosity whenever he’s around. It doesn’t help that he’s also undeniably cute, with a quiet sort of charm that only adds to his character.

As the elevator’s doors finally close, you clumsily attempt to adjust your bag again, just for your thermos to clatter against the floor as you fumble around the attached keyrings.

It rolls around for a second before your neighbor swiftly reaches down to grab it, soon handing it over to you with a small smile. “I’m guessing this is an essential for busy mornings, right?”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered as your cheeks warm up. “You’ve got no idea. Sorry again, I swear I’m more composed than this.”

“I know,” he says, offering a nod as his smile grows bashfully. “I’ve never seen you around this hour, so I’m assuming you’re probably late.”

You pause, caught off guard by his words.

Given that you’ve only exchanged brief glances and polite smiles here and there whenever you met, it’s a surprise to know he’s observant enough to have noticed your routine at all. It makes you wonder if he’s noticed other things too, as you have with him.

“Very late,” you finally respond, offering a rather chagrined smile. “Not a very smart decision to ignore your alarms for a few more minutes of sleep, I guess.”

Visibly very entertained with your chaos, your neighbor shrugs as a chuckle escapes from his lips. “We’ve all been there, don’t stress too much about it.”

The elevator stops before you can reply, both of you stepping out into the lobby once the doors open. There’s a brief pause between you before he clears his throat, looking somehow both hesitant and effortlessly poised as he opens the building’s door for you to walk through first.

“Hey, good luck today,” he says, shooting you a sheepish wink as he nods. “It’s gonna be a better day from now on, trust me.”

Taken aback by the rather endearing attitude, you laugh, nodding back at him in delight. “I trust you.”

As you start the walk toward the station, you find yourself briefly glancing back over your shoulder, just in time to catch him watching you for a second before he turns around and heads off.

With the aroma of your burning candles spreading through the living room, your Friday evening falls to a quiet, hardly earned, peaceful break from work and school.

After a week of quizzes, readings, papers and presentations, it’s the first time in a while that you don’t have to think about the next assignment on your to-do list or papers waiting to be graded.

Under the dim lights of your apartment, you’re comfortably curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, savoring the brief weekend pause.

Almost as if they knew exactly what you needed to add to your little atmosphere, sensing just the perfect time, you hear the faint harmony of the mysterious neighbor’s piano keys through the walls. Tonight, the notes are slower, gentle, almost as warm as the candles’ flames.

Completely taken by the music once again, you only break out of your reverie as you spot your journal on the dining table. Suddenly inspired, you decide that it’s only fair that your neighbor knows how much you appreciated their music—even if you have no idea who they actually are, apart from the fact that they’re right over you.

Without a second thought, with a pen and paper in hands, you let your heart write.

Dear neighbor,

Even though I’m not sure who you are or if we’ve met, I wanted to thank you through this letter. I’ve heard you play for a while now, and I can’t tell you how much comfort and happiness your music brings me. It truly brightens my day, takes a weight off my shoulders at night, pulls me away from my hectic days and gives me a moment to just breathe and appreciate the beautiful things in life.

I don’t know if you’re playing for anyone, or if it’s just for yourself, but I hope you know that I’m always amazed by it and how much it matters. You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home. Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.

Gratefully,

Your neighbor

It’s already past midnight as Mark settles at the quiet studio, only a handful of people left in the building after a long day of brainstorming meetings for the next label releases.

Staring at the blank pages of his beat-up notebook, Mark starts to feel the fatigue catch up to his body, brain most definitely clocked out for the day as he can’t seem to think of anything but the annoying ache on his neck.

As he taps his pen against the crumpled paper, a small, folded letter rests neatly tucked between its worn pages—one that he might or might not have read at least a dozen times since finding it under his door a few weeks ago. Needlessly to say, Mark was nothing but surprised by the letter, moved by the thoughtful, kind words written by his neighbor.

Every time he reads it, a rather satisfying warmth takes over his chest, as if the person who’d written it knew something deeply personal about him without even knowing who he was, or even his name.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Mark startles as Haechan and Johnny burst into the studio, both laughing until the youngest notes his friend’s guarded face.

“You look suspicious,” Haechan starts, eyes playfully scanning the studio in distrust. “I hope you aren’t doing anything nasty around here. We use this studio too, you know.”

Mark rolls his eyes, closing the notebook with a sigh. “You really need to learn how to shut up sometimes, Haechan.”

Quietly taking in the scene, Johnny leans over Mark, curiously eyeing the piece of paper sticking out of his notebook, distinctly decorated with a red star sticker at the top. “What’s that?”

The two youngest follow Johnny’s finger, pointing at the notebook on Mark’s lap.

As Mark’s stomach drops, he quickly attempts to tuck the letter back inside, distracting his friends from catching a glimpse of it. “It’s nothing, just something I was scribbling on.”

“No way,” Haechan starts, turning to Johnny with the widest grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Is that a love letter?”

“No,” Mark awkwardly cuts off, feeling his cheeks heat up under his best-friends’ scrutiny. “Who even sends love letters nowadays?”

Johnny scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You would.”

“He fucking would,” Haechan repeats, eyes wide as if he’s having an epiphany. “Holy shit, you’re so corny, Mark.”

“I mean, Mark wasn’t the one making up excuses to stalk his mom’s employee every day, you know,” Johnny taunts, laughing when Haechan mocks an offended glance at his older friend.

Not able to resist their curiosity, knowing that he was eventually going to bend anyway, Mark sighs. “It’s a letter from my neighbor. Sometimes I play some music at home, whenever I’m stuck with something from here,” he explains quietly. “I guess they’ve been listening to it? I don’t know who they are but they left a letter to me a few days ago.”

Johnny and Haechan exchange a look, the latter letting out an incredulous laugh. “Your life is ridiculous. You got a love letter from your neighbor?”

“It’s not a love letter,” Mark argues, rolling his eyes. “It’s more of an… appreciation letter.”

Johnny nods, a knowing look taking over his face. “Can we read it? It’s fine if you don’t want us to, though.”

“It’s not fine.” Haechan frowns, a dramatic note to his voice. “What do you mean Mark got a love letter from his neighbor and we can’t read it?”

Mark does hesitate for a moment but ultimately hands the letter over to Johnny, watching his friend open the paper with careful fingers.

It’s funny to hear someone else read it. There’s a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of satisfaction in his chest as Mark listens to Johnny’s voice say the words he’s read so many times by now, enough to have memorized it.

The letter sounds different—now that’s disconnected from him and no longer kept a secret, it definitely feels more real, more genuine.

“You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home,” Johnny finally reads, noticeably taken aback by it. “Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.”

Haechan breaks the silence as Johnny finishes, looking as impressed as his older friend. “Damn. That was…”

“Actually really nice,” Johnny completes, a little more serious than Mark expects. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

Mark shakes his head, taking the letter back from Johnny’s hand and tucking it back inside his notebook. “No idea. I’m not sure if I want to know either.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. “Are you really fine with never finding out who they are?”

For now, there’s something about the mystery that keeps it just for him. For now, Mark thinks that knowing might change the feeling, make it somehow less special. Besides, if the future wants him to know, then he’ll probably know.

As his fingers tap the notebook, almost as if sealing the secret inside of it, Mark nods.

“Maybe it’s better that way.”

A few hours into the evening, the small venue is already buzzing with energy, voices blending with the smooth, laidback background music of the cozy bar.

Mark’s not a stranger to the place, having attended a few open mics before with Johnny as a sidequest from his actual job. Today is a special day though—given Jaehyun’s giving a surprise secret performance of his new EP, it’s only fair of Mark to show his friend some support, especially after having worked on some of his songs together.

Besides, as a genuine music lover he does enjoy the atmosphere, the rawness of live music never failing to lift his mood even when he’s tired and overworked.

At the back of the bar, Mark waits for Johnny with a pint of beer in hand, his eyes trailing through the place as he watches a few artists cycling through with their instruments here and there.

Out of all things that could possibly happen tonight, Mark most definitely isn’t expecting to spot you there of all places.

Just a few feet away, you step by the bar with your friends, chatting and laughing as you approach the counter to place an order. He holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to notice him as you briefly glance around. Convincing himself to play it cool, Mark swiftly turns his attention back to the bartender.

Just as his hand closes around his drink, he feels a presence stepping up beside him, a hand tentatively touching his arm.

“Hey neighbor,” you greet him, eyes bright in recognition as a smile tugs on your lips. “Seems like we’re running into each other everywhere lately, huh?”

Mark smiles back, feeling both glad and a bit nervous that you ultimately decided to approach him. “Seems like it, yeah. Though I’m a little surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“Why?” You laugh, surprised. “I know it didn’t seem like it that day, but I am a normal person, you know.”

“Shit, no, I don’t mean it that way,” Mark objects right away, wide-eyed as he fumbles with the glass of beer in his hands. “It’s just that I’ve been here a lot so I kinda know the crowd, I guess?”

You hum, moving to lean over the counter right beside him with a frown between your eyebrows. “I don’t think we’ve ever introduced ourselves properly, have we?”

As you give him your name, reaching out a hand to him with an amused smile on your lips, he can’t help awkwardly taking the handshake. When the hold lingers for a second longer than expected, Mark realizes he’s holding your gaze for just as much.

Playing it off with a cough, he pulls back to clumsily gesture toward the stage. “So, do you know anyone… you know, performing tonight?”

“Not really. My friends found this place, I just thought it’d be cool to check it out,” you explain, curious eyes glancing around. “What about you? If you’ve been here before, I bet you know someone.”

“Yeah, my friend Jaehyun is actually doing a few songs tonight.” Mark rubs the back of his neck with a timid smile. “Just thought it would be cool to support him.”

“That’s nice of you,” you say, face softening with a small smile. “I’ll check out him too, then.”

He almost wishes you don’t.

Though Jaehyun’s got this long distance on-and-off thing with a girl he met during one of his concerts, the man is not only mad talented but also has insane looks, a combo that Mark’s seen girls fall for countless times by now.

Either way, he just smiles back with an appreciative nod. “He’s crazy good, you’ll definitely love his music.”

A call from your friends cuts the conversation short and as you glance over your shoulder, they’re waving you over with a handful of drinks.

You seem to hesitate a little, looking back at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I probably should get back to my friends.”

Hoping he doesn’t look too disappointed, Mark shakes his head. “It’s all good, it was nice seeing you around anyway,” he starts, pausing for a second before casually reaching out for his phone. “I was thinking if I could get your number? It’s fine if you don’t—”

You gently take the phone off his hands, visibly holding back a smile as you start typing. As he catches a glimpse of the screen, Mark chuckles at the door emoji added next to your name.

Before you disappear into the crowd with your friends, you give him one last glance over your shoulder, eyes locking onto his own as your smile widens.

“I’ll see you, Mark.”

The following days, Mark spends way too much time debating himself whether to text you. As a well-kept secret in his mind, he’s also been obsessively replaying your interaction ever since that night, a little taken aback by his own sudden interest in you.

It’s not like he hasn’t ever let his eyes wander whenever you coincidentally met around the building, but up until that night you were only that—just one of his neighbors, a pretty girl he happened to run into every once in a while.

Now, curiosity is getting the best of him and Mark can’t help reading too much into the situation.

Home earlier than usual, he sits at the couch with his guitar on his lap, though now long forgotten in his reverie. As he stares at your name in the contact list, Mark reminds himself that you gave him your number after all.

So he hopes that means something, especially when finally hitting send on the message he’d backspaced one too many times.

5:11PM Hey neighbor Just found this new place with crazy good food and music in the neighborhood Any chance you’re free tonight?

5:15PM Hi Mark! I’m so sorry I’d love to but I’m stuck at uni until late today Rain check?

Though the anticipation in his chest crumbles to disappointment, Mark plays it off. You hadn’t exactly said no, so he settles to make the interaction as casual as possible, just about to type a quick reassurance when another text pops up.

5:17PM Actually If you’re free, I could use some company here I’ll buy you dinner if you save me from work for a few minutes

No more than an hour later, Mark’s walking through the campus with two brown paper bags in hand, hoping that a classic combo is a safe enough bet for you to like it. Nearing the library, he spots you waving at him by the building’s steps with a growing smile on your face.

“Hey Mark,” you greet, walking over with curious eyes at the bags in his hands. “I thought dinner was on me?”

“It seemed like you needed a break,” Mark points, giving an awkward chuckle. “It’s not fancy or anything so don’t worry about it.”

The sun’s just about to set as you walk him to a nearby bench, in a spot secluded enough that there’s only a couple of students around, mostly rushing past without a single glance.

Accepting the bag from his hands as you sit down, your eyes light up at the sight of the huge burger and fries. “Mark, I could kiss you right now,” you start, taking a single fry as you grin at him. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He chuckles, trying to mask the impact of your words despite the warmth spreading through his neck. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hoped the basics were a safe choice.”

“This looks way better than I was planning,” you confess in between your bites. “You seriously saved me from going insane.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve asked what you study.” Mark frowns, trying to remember if he’s ever noticed something that could’ve hinted at it.

“I’m doing a masters in political science,” you answer, chuckling timidly as his face shifts to an impressed look. “I’m also doubling as a teaching assistant for undergrad, hence why I’m still here grading assignments and going crazy.”

“That’s amazing,” he replies, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “How do you like it? It sounds like hard work.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back on the bench with a groan, momentarily forgetting about the food. “It definitely seemed easier when I was applying but I do love it. I’m also really good at it, even if my thesis runs me to the ground sometimes.”

“I bet you are.” Mark nods, voice laced with a playful touch. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you seem like the type who’s got it all under control.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m glad you already forgot about the last time we met back home,” you say, glancing over at him with curious eyes. “What about you? What do you do, Mark?”

Suddenly feeling a flicker of self-consciousness in the back of his brain, Mark hesitates for a second. Even though his job sounds fancy to most ears, people usually recognizing him as a writer of sorts, it almost sounds comical when compared to what you do. Strangely enough, despite his genuine love for music, it’s not the first time Mark feels small over it.

As he rubs the back of his neck, the answer sounds as ordinary as possible. “It’s kinda all over the place, actually. Mostly creative stuff, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly intrigued by the vague response. “It sounds like you’re a secret agent but can’t actually tell me the truth. Am I right?”

Mark smiles sheepishly, relieved at your easy acceptance. “To be honest, I feel like I’d be terrible at that,” he says with a grimace. “I think I’m decent at my actual job, though.”

You hum softly, seemingly still interested despite his awkwardness. “Well, you can tell me all about it later.”

As you effortlessly move the conversation by mentioning the open mic, not leaving your love for Jaehyun’s songs out, the evening soon settles upon you. There’s a whole lot Mark knows about you now—from your favorite songs to your favorite students, the places you dream traveling to, even childhood stories.

When you finally walk back to the library, it’s late enough that the campus is completely quiet. As Mark stands a few steps down from you at the same stairs again, a strange sense of comfort warms his chest.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to wait for you?” he asks for a second time, watching you with a hint of concern.

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused glance towards him. “I told you it’s fine. My friend’s already waiting for me at her place, anyway.”

Mark nods, reluctantly agreeing. “Text me so I know you’re safe?”

You smile softly, nodding back. “I promise.”

Moving closer, you lean over him from the few steps up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second too short. Mark swears that his skin is on fire, the spot tingling even after you pull back. There’s a quiet pause before you turn around, giving him a final wave before disappearing into the building.

Pleasantly surprised with how comforting and fun the last-minute meeting with Mark was, the details of the night silently stuck with you for the next few days.

Though it seemed like a simple gesture then, you’d completely turned your brain off from the stress of your routine for a few hours, instead staying immersed in your own growing intrigue about him. There was something undeniably sweet and endearing about your neighbor, leaving you craving for more time to know him better.

Admitting to yourself that maybe you do want to see Mark again, you also want to repay his gentle favor.

When you text him an impromptu dinner invite at your place, secretly anticipating his answer with nervous eyes glued to the screen, you’re most definitely not expecting a knock at your door just a few minutes later.

Despite the casual stance, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, Mark looks slightly out of breath as he stands outside your place. “Uh—hey, neighbor.”

“Do you live next door?” you joke, stepping aside to let him into your apartment. “You surprised me. I was waiting for you to reply to my text first.”

“You caught me.” Mark shrugs, slipping his shoes off with a bashful smile. “Did I come too early? I can come back later if you want.”

Leading him inside, you gesture towards your small table, already set with the ridiculous amount of pizza you accidentally ended up baking to stress relief. “You’re actually just in time. Think you can handle the consequences of my poor measuring skills?”

He bursts into a laugh, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “Wow, this is… it feels like an italian restaurant in here.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me but I’ll let it slide because you’re a first timer around here,” you tease, pushing him towards a seat at the table. “Sit down, I’ll help you.”

Both settled in, as the food’s plated by you under Mark’s protests, the conversation naturally flows.

“So, I was thinking,” you start carefully, watching out for his reaction. “You said you’re into creative stuff, right? Does that include writing?”

Mark looks slightly surprised for a second, then opens a smile. “Kind of. I have this habit of writing down random thoughts, stuff that I see outside whenever I go out, you know?”

“Like journaling?” you ask, pausing between a few bites with your interest piqued.

“You could call it that.” He nods, thoughtfully running a hand through his hair. “Most of the time it turns to a few loose bits of stories. Like, scenes that play in my head.”

“I think I’ve figured out your job,” you say, giving him a playful side-eye at the visible tension on his face. “I’m pretty sure that you’re some best-seller ghost writer. Maybe a pen name writer or something.”

“I guess I can’t tell you then,” he teases, a contrast to his shy smile. “What about you? Aren’t you writing a thesis? That’s some serious writing if you ask me.”

Despite the excitement, you can’t help an exhausted groan at the thought of your own writing. “It seems easier than looks that’s for sure,” you reply with a nod. “Like I said, I love it and I’m actually nailing it… but I do have a breakdown over it every two weeks or something.”

Taking your answer as a cue, Mark unexpectedly tosses a few questions here and there, leaving you a little stunned at how effortlessly he seemed to ponder over your study. With him attentively hanging onto your every word, you almost catch yourself giving him a long-winded lecture about the subject.

“Let’s stop talking about this or I’ll never shut up,” you whine, noticing the food’s nearly done. “We’re talking about me too much.”

Mark chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You know I don’t mind,” he says, eyes wandering around your small place for a moment until stopping at your bookshelf. “I’m a little curious about what you’ve got there. Would you mind if I check it out?”

“Not at all,” you answer, gesturing for him to step closer for a better look. “It’s a chaotic collection, though. There’s pretty much a bit of everything in there.”

As he stands in front of your mess of a bookshelf, Mark runs his fingers through a few spines, attentively eyeing the titles. “I don’t really know a whole lot about books but I can spot some classics here.”

You nod, moving closer to stand beside him. “I haven’t read a few of these in a long time.”

Glancing over with a knowing smile, he gives you a playful nudge. “Any recommendations?”

Pausing for a second, you briefly mull over a few options before settling on a shorter one, the book's cover instantly earning a laugh out of Mark as you hand it over to him. Though as he reads the title, his gaze turns pensive and you can’t help a fond smile from growing on your lips.

“You can have this one,” you say quietly, Mark breaking out of a trance as he turns to look at you again. “Tell me what you think of it later.”

Mark offers a soft smile, tapping the cover with his fingers. “I'll trust your judgment,” he murmurs, eyes alight with a playful glint. “Maybe I should let you read some of my stuff, then.”

“Maybe I have already,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him right back. “If you’re a writer under a pen name, you could be the author of any of these books as far as I know.”

“I’m not that secretive about my writing, I promise.” He smiles, though a bit guarded. “I just don’t really like sharing all of it.”

The conversation lingers between you for a moment, your mind completely taken by Mark’s duality. As you try to figure him out, the lines that seem to draw his persona get more and more blurry.

Though there’s something effortlessly cool and laidback about him, Mark’s still shy and a little reserved. He’s guarded, but also somehow open to talk about anything and everything. In a way, it feels like a nice balance, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s any missing pieces to him that you can’t see now.

The sudden ring of his phone stops you from taking up on the offer of reading whatever he wanted you to.

Mark keeps looking at you apologetically as a Johnny talks to him, visibly frustrated with the conversation despite the usual easygoing tone lacing his voice.

When the call wraps up, he tucks the phone into his hoodie again with a sigh. “I'm really sorry,” he starts, sounding nothing but sincere. “Apparently something happened at work and I’m the only one who can fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile dismissively. “It’s fine, Mark. I hope everything’s okay, though.”

Once at your doorway, Mark hesitates for a second, gaze softening as he turns around to step closer to you. “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” He smiles, offering a firm nod. “We’ll talk later.”

With your face suddenly on fire, you dazedly return the smile, unsure of what to reply. “Alright.”

In the silence of your apartment later that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something had shifted between you.

The aftermath of your last encounter is anything but ideal.

With both of you caught up in your own deadlines and work-fueled late nights, even the chances of casually running into each other around the building seemed to be far-fetched over the coming days.

While you were wrapped up in a blur of revised drafts and emails from your advisor, unbeknownst to you, Mark himself was occupied with the very same matter that interrupted your shared dinner, struggling with last-minute changes for an artist’s upcoming project.

Though there was little time between you, the tenderness of Mark’s promise still lingered with you, expectation building in your heart at the thought of seeing him again.

It’s still early in the morning as you wait for the elevator at your floor, relieved that another hectic week is finally over. As you silently plan to ignore your to-do list for the weekend to catch up with the last episodes of a show you’ve been procrastinating on, the doors open to reveal Mark already inside.

Leaning against the wall with wired earphones around his neck, he instantly straightens up upon seeing you, a sheepish smile curling on his lips. “Hey, neighbor.”

Offering a smile back, you step by his side with a gentle glance. “Hi, Mark.”

As you stand there for a moment, there’s an edge of hesitation that both seem to notice, then choosing to speak at the same time.

“Sorry I haven’t—”

“I’m sorry for not—”

Both of you pause again, sharing a surprised laugh for a second before Mark motions for you to go first.

“I just want to say sorry for not keeping in touch these days,” you confess, sighing apologetically. “I think you know already, but things got crazy with my deadlines and I completely lost the timing to reach you back after dinner.”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head, offering a warm-hearted chuckle. “I’m really sorry too, I know I promised to make it up to you but things just… kind of piled up. I kept meaning to text you, but something always came up.”

You nod in understanding, giving a meek shrug as your hands tighten around the strap of your bag. “It’s okay with me too.”

“So… what time are your classes ending these days?” Mark asks offhandedly, clearing his throat as he looks ahead. “Like, today?”

“Today?” you ask, confused despite your amusement. “Around six, I think?”

With a nod, his answer sounds so quiet that you almost miss it. “That’s good,” he mumbles, almost as if to himself before he glances at you again, smiling lightly. “Good luck with your classes today, then.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the lobby, again drawing the conversation to an end before you can answer. As you step out, Mark keeps a small distance behind you, a subtle hesitation in his step once you’re both outside ready to part ways.

You exchange quick goodbyes, each turning toward your own direction.

As he’s a few steps down the street, you call out for his name, voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ll see you later, neighbor.”

Much to your delight, you do see Mark later—at your university, no less, waiting for you outside the humanities building. Though it’s easy to spot him, the button-up and tank-top combo somehow making him stand out, you can’t hide the shock upon recognizing his familiar figure casually standing around, offering a wave as he spots you.

You quickly close the few steps towards him, a confused smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God, it’s really you. I thought I was crazy for a second.”

Mark laughs, cheeks hinting a blush despite his nonchalant nod. “I was just around the area and thought I’d swing by to check if you needed company home.”

“I do,” you say, still surprised. “I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, glancing at you with warm eyes. “Ready to go?”

You hum softly. “Yeah.”

Still caught off-guard by his thoughtfulness, you’re most definitely not expecting Mark to quietly offer his hand out towards you. It’s a gentle, open gesture and though he does it very naturally, there’s a hint of apprehension on his face, as if he’s unsure of your reaction.

Without a word, you immediately slip your hand into his, heart thumping in your ears.

As both of you set off to the station, a strangely familiar sense of intimacy sets between you during the walk.

The subway is typically packed, chaos all around you with a mob of wide-eyed tourists and aggravated locals fighting for space, loud voices and chit-chat carrying out all the way through the tight space. At the end of a car, you squeeze into a quieter spot as Mark stands right in front of you, close enough to subtly tower over your figure.

Your eyes discreetly take in his frame, pausing at the glasses hanging on the collar of his tank-top. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in glasses yet,” you say, raising an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me this is just for aesthetics, Mark.”

“I kinda wish it was, actually,” he argues, grimacing. “I mostly wear contacts, though. I keep breaking or losing all my glasses.”

Carefully pulling them out, you reach over and gently place the glasses on his face, regarding him for a second with a grin. “It looks cute, you should wear them more.”

As if he needs something to do with his hands, Mark adjusts the frames on his face, his cheeks heating up in a faint blush. “Oh—yeah, I guess. Thank you?”

The playful glint in your eyes goes unnoticed by him, grin widening at how endearing his flustered reaction is. “You’re welcome,” you say, leaning in just enough to make him look down at you again. “The blush looks cute on you, too.”

“Come on,” Mark chides, huffing a surprised, timid laugh. “Don’t do that to me.”

As your curiosity moves on to the wired earphones still wrapped around his neck, your fingers graze the cord before you take an earbud, slipping into your ear with a pointed look at him. Mark instantly takes the hint, picking the spare one before reaching over for his phone, scrolling through until a smooth beat starts playing.

Absorbed into the music, you don’t even notice Mark taking a step closer to avoid the flow of people around you, one of your hands subconsciously moving to steady him by holding onto his waist.

The songs blend into each other for a few stations as both of you focus on the playlist instead, sneaking playful glances at each other every so often.

“So you’re a bit of a rockstar, huh?” he asks after a while, smiling warmly at the confusion on your face over his sudden remark. “It’s just that you seemed to vibe with the rock stuff more than I expected.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling back with a hint of challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I just like your taste in music.”

Mark chuckles, running a hand through the back of his neck. “Not gonna lie, that kinda makes me feel good about myself,” he says, earning a genuine laugh from you. “I’ll link you up to my playlist, then.”

“Don’t pay too much attention to me next time,” you chide, feigning a frown despite the playfulness in your eyes.

He shakes his head, voice sounding nothing but sincere as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, raising your chin up just a tiny bit. “I’ll always pay attention to you.”

Just as his words sink in, the conductor’s cracked voice finally announces your station, leaving you silently grateful for the chance to collect yourself, your burning cheeks thankfully going unnoticed by Mark.

As he takes your hand again, you both move through the small crowd at the platform, the cool night air soon welcoming you outside over the short walk to the building. Though it feels shorter than usual, you still hang onto Mark’s stories with his friends, Johnny and Donghyuck, invested in the mischievous tidbits of their friendship shared on the way.

At the elevator, you stand beside him for a second time in the day.

Except that this time, leaving with a quick kiss to his cheek, you know exactly what Mark means to you.

Mark can’t help but read the letter a little differently now.

As an awkward mix of comfort and uncertainty grows in his heart at every word, not even the refuge of his studio feels enough to ease the tension of his thoughts.

The feeling that you’re the author of the message that he’s been obsessed with for the past couple of months comes with a weight that Mark hasn’t been quite sure how to deal with yet. The kindness laced to the letter already felt way too personal then, but now, it carries a sense of intimacy that feels directly connected to you.

It makes him feel a little silly too, realizing that you’ve entirely known him all along, nonetheless unknowingly witnessing the exact pieces that Mark held close to himself. Still, despite his ongoing conflict, he does marvel at the serendipity of the situation.

Lost in thought, Mark barely notices Johnny sidling over until the oldest takes a seat beside him at the mixing table, raising an eyebrow at the paper in his hands. “Reading the mystery letter again?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles humorlessly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “I know I’ve been too hung up on this thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Johnny huffs, offering an odd look to his friend despite the playfulness of his words. “You got a letter from a mysterious neighbor. So what?”

Mark pauses, clicking his tongue as he finally looks up at Johnny. “Actually… it might not be that mysterious anymore, I guess.”

Johnny’s eyes widen in genuine surprise, interest suddenly piqued. “Are you telling me you found out who wrote your love letter?”

“Remember the girl you saw me talking to at Jaehyun’s open mic?” Mark asks, fingers nervously fiddling with the letter as Johnny nods. “We’ve been kinda hanging out lately and she’s… you know, also my neighbor.”

His friend blinks, visibly impressed by the unexpected twist. “Damn, Haechan is right.” Johnny snorts, a knowing grin soon taking over. “Your life is fucking ridiculous, Mark.”

“I’m not really sure it’s her, though,” he counters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, I think it could be. The way she talks to me sort of reminds me of how the letter is written. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Then ask her,” Johnny offers, as if he’s stating the obvious. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already talking to each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s just me wishful thinking?” Mark shrugs, a sigh escaping his mouth. “I don’t want to confuse her with my shit. I actually like her a lot, Johnny.”

As brotherly as ever, the oldest lets out a quiet chuckle, regarding his friend with attentive eyes. “You’re overthinking it, Mark,” Johnny chides softly. “If it’s her, great for you, but if it’s not, then it’s just a story you can tell.”

At the reassuring words, Mark turns the idea around in his head. Deep down, he knows that his hesitation says more about him than you—after all, finding out the truth means that he’s vulnerable, parts of him that even he can’t understand yet exposed. Mark also knows that you haven’t given him anything worth doubting your sincerity.

It’s actually quite the opposite, given he hasn’t felt so oddly understood and seen in a long time, despite how good he is at his job and how well he’s perceived by the people around him.

Considering Johnny’s input in the brief moment, Mark eventually nods. “I’ll think about it, promise.”

“If she got to know you as well as we do, I know she likes you just as much,” Johnny finishes, giving an encouraging pat to his shoulder. “Just make sure to get out of your head a little, alright?”

Taking one last look at the letter before tucking it away, nerves pleasantly buzzing in his chest, Mark decidedly acquiesces.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

The music starts almost shyly at first, chords soon carrying through the walls softly and unassuming.

You pause mid-motion, fingers hovering over the keyboard of your laptop as your brain instantly loses the next few lines of your assignment. It finally dawns on you that your mysterious neighbor has returned—at the same time as you realize that you hadn’t noticed their absence at all, for a while now.

As always, you can’t help but love the unknown melody though it strangely stirs something bittersweet in your heart, somewhat apologetic over not feeling their disappearance enough.

It makes you think of the letter.

Did your neighbor read it? What did they think of it? Did it mean anything to them?

It’s a given that your thoughts also wander to Mark, the significance of your growing relationship definitely not lost as you slowly recognize how his presence has filled so much of your mind lately, so much of your days.

It almost feels like the song’s tenderness is engraved onto your brain once it fades away, over as suddenly as it started. As the weight of the silence settles in, you feel stupidly torn between the comfort you’d found and the one you’d forgotten.

Mark 7:23PM Hey rockstar I’m home Kinda want to hear your thoughts on this Care to have a listen?

It’s an unusually quiet Saturday evening for you.

At the buzz of your phone, Mark’s name lighting up the screen for a brief second, you take a pause from your book. Though seeing his name doesn’t surprise you, given you’ve been texting back and forth all day, your curiosity immediately takes over as you read through the cryptic messages followed by a download link.

7:24PM You’re home? I hope you aren’t scamming me 😛

Since Mark had to suddenly cancel the plans you’d made earlier in the week due to work, you’re eager to see him, especially now as the university’s break nears by a couple of days. Before you can text him to come over though, another message comes through.

Mark 7:25PM Please listen to it baby

As your heart leaps at the reply, you’re quick to follow his request.

Then, Mark’s suddenly singing to you.

The guitar chords are unmistakable to your ears. It’s the very same melody played by your mysterious neighbor a few nights ago, except the sound’s definitely richer now, crystal clear with no walls in the way to hold back its softness. His voice feels incredibly tender, warm and light like a hug, almost as if he’s poured his soul into it.

A shiver runs through your body as realization finally hits you—all this time, Mark has been your mysterious neighbor, the very one you’d sent a secret letter to, your unknown comfort presence.

You’re not even properly thinking when rushing upstairs, urgently knocking on the door of the apartment right above yours.

As it swings open, one look at him is enough for you to throw your arms around Mark’s neck, catching him by surprise by pressing your lips against his. It takes a second for him to react, his own arms soon wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. As he blindly steps back inside, Mark kicks the door closed before deepening the kiss, both hands at the back of your head.

You’re not sure how long it lasts but when you pull away, both of you light-headed and breathless, it still doesn’t feel long enough.

With flushed cheeks, Mark sighs in a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Wow, this is… wow,” he manages, chest still heaving. “What’s going on?”

The dazed look on his face earns a laugh from you, especially as it pairs with his messy hair and disheveled clothes. Completely endeared by his reaction, you lean closer again, brushing a quick, feather-light kiss against Mark’s lips before he can even react.

“You’re my mysterious neighbor,” you start, voice soft with admiration as your hands cup his cheeks. “You’re the one who’s been playing music all this time.”

He gives you a small smile, subtly leaning into your hold. “You’re the one who wrote the letter.”

“This is crazy, Mark,” you say, huffing at the absurdity of the situation in both disbelief and amazement. “I can’t believe you’re the person I’ve been obsessed with since I moved in.”

His brows raise slightly, a teasing glint replacing the warmth in his eyes. “You’ve been obsessed with me?”

“You have no idea how much I loved listening to you.” You smile unabashedly, fingertips gently brushing at his cheeks. “I was always so happy whenever I came home and you’d just start playing out of nowhere. It felt like you knew exactly when I needed your music, you know.”

As his face softens, Mark watches you for a second. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, voice quieter. “The letter you sent me… did you mean all of that?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.”

As he wraps his arms around you in the warmest, heartfelt hug, Mark pulls back just enough so his lips are meeting yours again, the slow kiss melting your body against his own.

Though pulling yourself away from Mark feels like a challenge, as you breathlessly step back from his hold, your eyes are immediately taking in every detail around.

Sometimes, you’d foolishly envision your mysterious neighbor’s apartment, wondering how different it could be from your own. So it feels surreal standing there now and realizing that everything feels very, very Mark. It’s almost like the place pieces together parts of him that you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

An entire wall of vinyls and CDs, a few collectible toys here and there on the shelves, instruments all around his living room—all of it explains so much about him.

Walking over to check his collection much like he did with your books, you shoot him a curious glance. “So you’re a musician?”

“You could say that.” Mark frowns, pausing for a second before he sighs. “I mean, I work with music but I’m actually just a songwriter for a record label.”

Your eyes light up, a gasp escaping from your lips. “So I was right when I said you were a writer,” you reply, satisfaction taking over your face. “Did you write the song you sent me?”

He nods, feeling surprisingly at ease despite having spent half of the day restless over the recording. “Yeah, it was me,” Mark answers, chuckling at your enthusiasm. “You didn’t tell me what you’d think of it yet.”

“Are you kidding? The fact you’re my mysterious neighbor wasn’t the only thing that made me attack you just now,” you joke as he bursts into a laugh. “I do wonder who it was about, though.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “You think I’m going to tell you that easily?”

With a knowing grin, you silently turn back to scanning the rows of albums in his shelves again. As he steps behind you, Mark specifically reaches out for a CD, your eyes curiously scanning the cover.

“It’s only fair giving you a recommendation too, right?” he muses, smiling gently. “A rock classic for a rockstar seems fitting enough.”

The subtle implication laced to his words make your smile widen, album still in your hands as you glance at him over your shoulder. “Would you sing it for me if I asked?”

Mark hesitates, though seemingly more out of confusion than anything else. “Like… right now?”

As you turn around to face him, there’s a hint of reassurance on your face. “You don’t really have to, but I’d love to hear it with no walls between us this time.”

There’s a touch of confidence to the way Mark leads you to his couch, a hand on the small of your back until he settles beside you with a guitar on his lap. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen him, dark hair sitting above his eyes and glasses perched on his nose, the little moles on his face calling you for a kiss.

The silence between you is soon filled by the guitar, Mark strumming the familiar melody with an ease that you can’t help amaze at. The softness of his voice embraces you again, anticipation growing with every word between your shared glances.

With the last chord drawing the song to a close, you’re the one pulling the guitar away before leaning over, kissing Mark again as he welcomes you closer.

“So, you and me,” he starts, nose brushing against yours as you hum, smiling against his mouth. “Are we really doing this? For real now?”

Your heart has never felt so full and assured, no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

The crowd’s applause slowly settles as Mark leaves the stage.

There’s a mix of adrenaline and contentment simmering in his chest, heart still racing as he clutches his guitar closer, taking one last look at the familiar atmosphere—for the first time, not as a mere spectator, but as a performer.

As your voice breaks through his high, Mark turns around just in time to put the guitar away before you leap into his arms, kissing him so deeply as if you haven’t seen him for weeks.

A wide smile takes over your face once pulling away, excitement practically spilling over from your eyes. “Oh my God, you were so good!”

He grins, instinctively reaching for your waist to hold you close. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you gush, expression softening for a second. “I’m so proud of you, baby. It was really incredible, you killed it.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” he confesses gently, a contrast to his firm gaze. “If you hadn’t insisted so much… I think I’d still be stuck in my head about it, you know.”

“You were the one up there performing, not me,” you argue, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “It was all you, your music and your talent.”

Mark shakes his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth as he closes his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for not letting me give up on this.”

As you pull back from his hold to meet his eyes, a playful smile curls on your lips. “I take my thanks in the form of take-out.”

He just laughs, nodding softly. “Let’s go home, then.��

Just like that, under a galaxy of stars in the sky and the warmth of a summer evening, Mark lets you guide him back home.

EXTRA: LOVERS ROCK

MASTERLIST

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct fanfic #mark lee fanfic #neocitylights

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gurneyhallecks · 6 months ago

Text

too good to be true

a jake ‘hangman’ seresin x shy!reader fic

warnings: alcohol mention; self confidence issue mention; slight innuendo if you squint; she/her pronouns used; no use of y/n

word count: 2.6k

summary: a handsome pilot has been making eyes at you all night - and you can't even begin to wrap your head around it. you wouldn't know what to say - but you better make it quick - he's on his way over!

a/n: thank you for the love on my previous fic! hope yall enjoy this one! jake's been living rent free in my head!

You didn’t want to go, but you couldn’t say no to your friend. She needed your support on this one. It’s her cousins’ birthday. Her cousin that she has a very strained relationship with. She hopes coming to this party at the Hard Deck might be a sign of good faith. You weren’t holding your breath; you didn’t exactly care for her cousin either. Another reason you didn’t want to go.

The good thing about this though – besides getting to spend time with a good friend – was admiring the view. The Hard Deck is a Navy bar. It’s full of naval officers and aviators, especially on the weekends.

80’s classic rock plays overhead and as the night goes on you decide you’re glad you came after all. The dimly lit atmosphere is comfortable, full of earth tones and Navy memorabilia. You and your friend quietly watch, from a distance, a handful of pilots playing pool. There’s one in particular that catches your attention. All the pilots in the place look handsome – you think that must be a requirement for joining the Navy. But this one – the tall blond one – stands out.

You made eye contact once, and quickly shifted your gaze. You saw him smirk a little and that sent butterflies into your tummy. You meekly sip your drink and dare to look back at him. You watch him walk around the pool table, looking for his next shot to take. He’s deliberate in all his actions. Confidence is in his movements as he lines up his shot. His gaze flicks up to you and gives you a little wink – making his shot without looking at the table.

Your friend elbows you in the side giggling, “He’s totally into you!”

“You think so?” you feel your face warm and take another drink to diffuse the tension. “He can’t be,” you shrug her off.

“No, I really think he is,” she squeals. “He’s coming over here.”

Your heart stops when you look over at him again. His eyes are on you as he hands his pool cue to his friend. The motion is swift and precise. Something about him not looking to pass it over while he looked at you sent electricity down to your toes.

“What do I do?” you hiss to your friend, watching him walk towards you. His smile grows and you couldn’t help but match it.

“Hi ladies,” that perfect smile is thick on his voice when he reaches your group. The birthday girl makes her way over to him. She’s quick to make her presence known. It burns you inside watching her. You admit you’re jealous of her boldness, and how she makes heads turn. That’s never been you.

“What can we do for you sir? Did you come over to wish me Happy Birthday?” she asks him, batting her eyelashes and touching his bicep.

You can’t watch her flirt with him, knowing that she can have whoever she wants in this place. You were silly to think he was interested in you. Makes the quick moment of butterflies turn into a pang of disappointment in your stomach. You take another sip of your drink and try to tune her out. Staring at the damp ring left on the table from your drink doesn’t help quite like you wish it would. You look up to see him give her a good-natured smile.

Then his eyes cut over to you while he answers her question. “Actually, I came to talk to that one-“ and he points to you.

“Me?” you look around as if he were somehow pointing to someone else.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiles and walks closer to where you’re sitting. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Your friend all but pushes you out of your seat to go towards him. And when you step forward, you get a good strong whiff of his cologne.

“Hi,” he smiles. You smile sheepishly at him. You know the other girls are watching every moment of this, but you don’t notice them at all. The room could be on fire, and you wouldn’t know. Though the heat from his gaze is so hot you think the room might actually be on fire. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks again when you don’t answer.

You’re gawking. You didn’t mean to but he’s so handsome, especially up close. The “yeah!” that comes out of your mouth is very eager and you want to bury your head in the sand outside the bar. But he seems to love watching you get flustered.

He offers you his arm and your face warms putting your hand in the crook of his elbow. Your fingers touch the warm, taut skin over his bicep, and you can’t believe this is happening right now.

“Happy Birthday,” he tells the birthday girl again brushing past her. You wanted to turn around so badly to see the look on her face, but you were focusing too hard on not tripping over your own feet.

The handsome pilot guides you towards the bar asking, “what are you drinking?” His eyes flick down to your hand still clinging to his bicep. Maybe it’s just your imagination that he flexes it for you before you shyly let go. Your cheeks warm telling him your drink order. His face is so close, and you’re hypnotized. His eyes on you sends a thrill to your heart and anxiety to your stomach. His mouth is so sexy you can’t help but linger on it. You panic knowing you aren’t subtle, and he can see you looking at his mouth.

Doesn’t seem to stop his smile from growing.

He knows.

He repeats your drink order to the bartender, and you feel a lurch in your stomach. The bar seems louder than before, and you feel a little clammy. He turns from ordering and puts his hand on your lower back.

“What’s your name darlin’?” he asks with a gentle smile. You barely hear or register his question because you tell him at the same time you need to use the ladies room. His smile is easy, despite the look of concern in his eyes. Do you really look that nervous?

Your dash to the bathroom is a blur. Passing rowdy patrons and feeling like you might lose the contents of your stomach right there on the bar floor.

Making a beeline for the sink once you’re in the bathroom, you grab some paper towels. Wetting them you pat your face and the back of your neck. You feel silly, but this has never happened to you before. No one like him has given you the looks he’s giving you. You know you could tell him you’re a little nervous, but what if he only likes really confident women? What if that’s a turn off? What if he expects you to put out? That makes you panic even more. How do you tell him you don’t do this kind of thing? Even the thought of kissing him makes your head spin.

Then you look in the mirror. You notice every flaw and your self confidence that was pretty high a minute ago plummets. You can’t go back out there to him.

So, you don’t. Tears stain your cheeks as you duck out of the bar without a word to him. Your heart is pounding as you leave, and you already feel regret. But your anxiety is winning. You can’t go back in there NOW after it’s been so long and you’re crying.

You don’t even tell your friend that you leave until you are at home. You know she would make you go back in there and talk to the hottest guy in there. The one who wanted to buy you a drink.

The one that you don’t even know his name.

You start to cry harder. What if you never see him again? Maybe that would be better? You feel bad for leaving so quickly without telling him. And you don’t know if you could face him again.

So, you text your friend through your very conflicted emotional tears. Her answer is full of typos and doesn’t make much sense. She’s drunk. You’ll talk to her about this tomorrow.

You get ready for bed, and you don’t even know what you’re doing. You’re on autopilot. Pilot. Oh yeah. Pilot. You scream into your pillow and cry until you give yourself a headache. Maybe you’re being ridiculous. Maybe you should have just accepted that he did want to talk to you instead of letting your own self doubt get in the way. And then you ruined it. You left that no name handsome pilot standing there with your drink wondering where you went. Thinking he did something wrong.

That’s when you decide you’ll go to the bar again tomorrow night. He’s got to be in there on a Saturday, right?

You barely sleep, and the whole rest of the day your stomach is in knots. The only question on your mind is what if he’s not there? What if he’s not there and you ruined your chance. You’re not sure if he’s looking for a relationship or a hook-up. But you’d like to find out! What if he is someone you start to date? That’s how people meet right?

You think about his mouth again. His handsome smile. The shape of his mouth. How badly you wonder what it’s like to kiss those lips. He’s gotta be a good kisser.

Most of your day is spent agonizing over these questions. You talk to your friend a LOT about this. She comes over and helps you pick out an outfit and she agrees to go with you tonight. That way you won’t have to go alone, and she can hype you up.

Thrill and panic are fighting a war in your belly. Your heart has been racing. Ice is pumping into your veins while you get ready. You’re wearing a simple black dress – it’s the most flattering to your figure. And you spend longer than you think you ever have on your makeup and hair.

“You’re gonna knock him off his feet when you show up looking like that to apologize,” your friend smiles looking at you over your shoulder in the mirror. It’s only right then before you’re about to head out the door that you don’t even know what you’re going to say to him.

You don’t live far from the bar, and you’d rather just go on ahead than sit at home to wait even more.

Music and the sound of patrons talking and laughing inside spills outside. There’s a breeze blowing on you before you walk in and you’re grateful for the fresh air before stepping through the entrance.

The place is busy tonight as you expected, but it doesn’t take you long to spot him. He’s by his buddies at the dartboard. He must have scored because he gives his buddy a high five and a couple other guys cheer.

“There he is come on,” your friend grabs your elbow and tugs you in his direction. Your knees shake and your heart is pounding. What are you going to say? You have about 30 seconds to figure it out.

With your heart in your throat, you step closer, he still hasn’t seen you. But one of his buddies does.

“Hangman,” one of them hits your handsome stranger on the arm and nods in your direction. He turns to look over his shoulder and when he realizes it’s you – that big grin splits his face. He turns further and steps closer into your space.

“Left me hangin’ last night,” he comments taking a sip of his beer. Someone behind him chuckles at the pun from his callsign.

“I’m sorry about that. I panicked. You make me so nervous,” you’re saying all this before your brain can catch up. You faintly heard one of the guys make a little “oooOOooOO” noise, and Hangman smacks his friend on the chest with the back of his hand. You don’t miss the look of pride in Hangman’s eyes at your comment despite him not wanting his friends to tease you.

“Me?” he teases playfully and gets even closer. You can smell the mint on his breath from the gum in his mouth. “Come on,” he clicks his tongue a little and nods his head in a direction away from the guys.

He puts his hand on your lower back – last night it sent you into a panic – but this time you let him. You like how it feels. His touch is very light, and he gently guides you to a quieter corner of the bar.

“I really am sorry,” you start back up again. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and-“

His eyebrows raise, he wants you to finish what you were going to say. He enjoys the flustered look on your face and the way your pupils dilate before he gives you relief.

“I know, your friend told me. Showed me your texts. Particularly liked the one about how I was the ‘most handsome man you’d ever seen.’” He gives you a little wink.

You weren’t sure if you were going to kill your friend or if you owed her your life now.

Then he said your name, you can only assume he saw on the text messages from last night. “I didn’t mean to make you nervous, even though it’s cute as hell.”

“I was just surprised that you came up to me. You could have anyone you want in here.” You motion with your hand around the place.

“Maybe I don’t just want anyone. I wanted the adorable girl who checked me out all night and was too shy to come say anything. Got in my head, made me damn crazy.”

“Really?” you whisper smiling up at him.

“Adorable,” he smiles.

“I thought about you all night when I left. I was so mad at myself, but I didn’t know what to say.”

“All night?” he smirks and your face warms. You might be embarrassed as his insinuations if you didn’t love how much he was looking at you. “I thought about you too.” He takes a swig of his beer, and now you really feel your skin get hot wondering if he means what you think he does.

“I was worried I startled you. Then your friend showed me what you said. I don’t think she was fully aware of what she was doing,” he laughs, “she told me all of it before I could say a word. But I’m glad she told me to come back tonight.”

“I’m glad too,” you smile reach up to fiddle with his uniform shirt sleeve. “Did she really show you all of them though?” you whine a little. “Even the kiss one?”

“Even the kiss one,” he confirms with another dangerous smirk. He puts his hand on the wall behind you, effectively trapping you between the wall behind you and the wall of muscle in front of you.

“Something about wanting to kiss this sexy mouth?” he teases. You hang your head with an exasperated groan. “Hey,” he lifts your chin with his finger. “I’ll kiss you,” he’s whispering now. His lips are so close to yours and you couldn’t form a coherent thought if you tried. All you know is how good he smells and how loud your heart is pounding in your ears.

“If?” you whisper back – your mouths almost touching.

“If you agree to go out on a date with me tomorrow,” His grin is so sly, and you are enjoying every moment.

“Yes,” your whisper is barely audible, but it’s enough.

Enough for him to close the very small gap between your lips. His hand cradling the back of your head now holding you to him. You whimper in his mouth and when he pulls back you gasp softly.

“I don’t even know your name,” you smile up at him.

“Jake,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you again.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x shy reader #top gun maverick fic #my writing

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1818havefaith · 5 months ago

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2016 NATURAL GLOW: FAITH’S GUIDE

OVERVIEW

This one’s my personal favourite. Simple, yet effective. A look to enhance your natural beauty. The eyebrows are very 2016, the lashes are bold, but everything else is quite toned down and simple. This look is perfect for everyday and special occasions. You can also do it without foundation to make it even more simple.

PRODUCTS

Primer

Baby powder

Foundation, tinted moisturiser(can be done without)

Concealer

Setting/loose powder

Pressed powder

Eyebrow gel

Brow pomade

Highlighter

Lashes

Lash glue

Lip gloss

Setting spray

TOOLS

Powder brush

Beauty blender

Tweezers

Brow brush

STEPS

BASE

Apply primer to skin, (skincare should be done before this step) make sure primer is applied ALL OVER your face

#faithtip After applying primer, use a brush to apply baby powder to your skin

These two steps will keep your makeup intact for AGES and prevent a lot of sweating through makeup

Then apply foundation or tinted moisturiser and blend well with a beauty blender (you can skip this step to keep your makeup light)

#faithtip wet your beauty blender with setting spray for better hold and easier blending

Apply pressed powder with a powder brush and blend well with a brush

This look is quite light, so instead of under-eye concealer apply loose setting powder from under your eyes to your temples, using a beauty blender

Apply loose setting powder from the side of your lip to the side of your face, under your cheek

Leave the setting powder unblended for now

BROWS

One of the KEYS to this look is eyebrows, make sure your brows have a defined shape

Brush through your brows and shape them with brow gel

Use pomade and a small brow brush to draw a line on the bottom of your eyebrows, following the shape of your brows

Draw a line at the top of your brows following the shape of your brows again

Fill your brows in within the lines

Brush through your brows again with brow gel

After this, apply concealer under your brows

The concealer should look like you have painted an outline of your eyebrows

Blend this in with a beauty blender

Use a beauty blender to apply loose powder underneath and on top of your brows, let it sit.

LASHES

When I do this look I don’t apply lashes because I wear cluster lashes/extensions, I find it quicker and easier for me to get ready

People who wear lash extensions/clusters can also skip lash application

STRIP LASHES

But for this step apply glue to strip lashes

Wave the lashes around for a bit so the glue dries a tiny bit and feels a little bit sticky

Place them on the lash line and adjust where needed (using tweezers or fingers)

youtube

CLUSTER LASHES

Strip lashes can also be cut into smaller pieces or use cluster lashes

Dip them into glue and wipe off the excess

Use tweezers to hold the lashes

Pull the top of your eyelid upwards so you can see underneath your eyelashes

#faithtip Wipe the glue on the part you are applying to then you can dip the lash in glue again before actually placing it underneath your lash

This make the lashes more firm and secure

Make sure it is not too close to your eye as this can be irritating

Fan your eyes if you can still feel wet glue

youtube

BACK TO THE BASE

Using a powder brush, brush away/blend out the loose powder, under your eyes, under your cheeks and around your eyebrows

Blend VERY well, as the powder has been sat on your face for a while, so it will not move easily

After this, apply a gold/bronze tone highlighter on the tip of your nose, on your cheek bones, your brow bone and cupids bow

Apply in moderation and blend slightly with finger to avoid looking ashy

Now use setting spray (holding it not too close to your face) over your face 3-4 times

LIPS

Add more highlighter to cupids bow if needed

Apply Vaseline/lip balm for moisture

Apply clear lip gloss

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paganfantasy · 1 month ago

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Great Ares, lord of the battlefield, I stand before you, faithful and true, In this moment of uncertainty and fear, I call upon your might to see me through.

With each breath, I summon your power, Filling my heart with the fire of your will, Guide me as I prepare for the fight, Equip me with courage, resolve, and skill.

Hear my call in this hour of need, Guide my steps with wisdom, and plant the seed. In the chaos of conflict, let clarity reign, Help me discern the path through the pain.

O Mighty Ares, guardian fierce and bold, In the shadows of battle, your courage unfolds. Shield us with strength, through trials we face, With your relentless spirit, grant us your grace.

When danger encircles, may your power ignite, Guide our hands, and bless our fight. With your sword held high, let fear take flight, Wrap us in valor, O God of Might.

With the fires of passion, direct my intent, Teach me to wield both strength and consent. Show me the balance of fury and peace, In your presence, may my fears cease.

In your honor, I vow to be brave, With your eternal strength, my path I will find. So mote it be.

From Prayers To Lord Ares by Dawn Silver

#lord ares #ares worship #ares devotee #ares deity #deity work #deity worship #helenic polytheism #eclectic pagan #greek gods #ares prayer #hellenic polytheism #ares guidance #god ares #pagan #commissionsearned

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livechristcentered · 2 years ago

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Unleashing Unshakeable Faith: Lessons from Acts 4

Let’s embark on an inspiring journey through the pages of Acts 4. Join me as I delve into the remarkable story of Peter and John, their unwavering faith, and the lessons we can learn from their bold witness in the face of opposition. Get ready to be empowered and encouraged as we uncover the secrets to embracing an unshakeable faith. Lesson 1: Unleashing Our Unshakeable Faith In life, we often…

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urstruly-ghst · 1 month ago

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do you think i have forgotten? - leona kingscholar and malleus draconia

in which you two were separated for too long (inspired by about you by the 1975 and astronomy by conan gray <3)

authors note: happy new years! for the new year, im giving sadness!

cw: a bit suggestive (its implied something happened)

leona kingscholar

being someone to leona was easier than you expect, he's a big softie at heart. you learned that quite quickly when you first step foot into the palace. you were simply a visitor, but that wasn't what leona thought.

it was idiotic, you think looking back at it now, that you thought this romance would last. the blossoming friendship you harbored changed the very same night when each rendezvous turned almost vulgar.

laying down on the bed of the prince of afterglow savannah was not what you expected, but, it felt too good to let go. turns out, you were right. because he left for night raven on the same night something happened. you were upset, understandably so, how dare he leave you after the whispered promises of passion? you both never kept contact after.

but you were bold to assume he never would find you. each break, each time he can escape, he's looking for you back to the corner he met you. for many years, you were gone. but on one faithful night, just as he was about to lose hope, you appeared glowing even more.

"can't you forget me already?" you say in a hushed voice as you glare at him. leona shook his head laughing at your suggestion, as if he could ever forget you.

he placed his hands on your waist as he looked at you with such emotion, it made you question if he was really leona. your glare softened up as he breathed in your scent.

"i would never. do you really think i have forgotten our promises?" leona asked. he then sighed in relief as your arms wrapped around him too, he thanked every star for this moment. this time, he won't be idiotic enough to leave without knowing how to contact you.

"besides, night raven can't compare to the few nights we had"

"leona!" you hit him as he smirked while laughing. not noticing how his tail wrapped around you, to make sure you'd never leave again.

malleus draconia

how you met him was something you'll never forget. it was at a random museum and that one gargoyle you saw intrigued you, it had such detail you never saw possible for such a small gargoyle. that was when a horned fae appeared behind you.

you also remembered how you refused to give him your name, suspecting some sort of scam, but that never hindered him or you. that trip had so much memories without ever knowing who he truly was. for malleus, it was a dream, someone who shared the same interests and no fear.

but, it was also during this time, something bloomed. each day, you kept coming back to that gargoyle. and each time, malleus appears. it was like this for nearly 2 months, but those months of friendship and long talks turned intimate, not one of you can tell how it started. but it all ended the same, you leaving without telling who were you.

for a while, malleus pined for you. but pining wasn't meant to stop him from going to night raven. he knew he can't just leave this memory behind, but his hands were tied. he left an enchantment on the gargoyle, hoping you'd know now who he is. and when break arrived, you were there smiling.

"malleus draconia, huh?" you say as you were looking at him. you should've known from the get-go that he was no ordinary someone. he smiled and nodded, you sigh and give a him a look.

"you're not mad?" he asked as he reached out to you, you giggle and shook your head. malleus relaxed and guided you to the place you mostly spend your "dates" with. usually, you two would chatter nonstop, but it was now quiet.

malleus felt anxious but before he spoke, you looked at him, eyes filled with hurt, "i thought you forgot about me"

and that sent malleus in a spiral. how dare you think he'd toss you away that easily? do you think of him so low? he reached out for you and looked a bit mad.

"do you think i would just forget the days and nights where you made me feel like im not to be feared? do you think, just because i am malleus draconia, i could abandon you without second thought? do you dare to think i forgot about you?" he said passionately and grabbed both of your hands before declaring

"not a single night where you haven't passed my thoughts. my dear, you have managed to bewitch me, without even having to lift a finger. just say you'll be mine, and..." malleus stared hesitantly before you smile and hum.

"i was yours the moment you saw me"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader

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urbabycowboy · 4 months ago

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 ᝰ 𝐜. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; where the preachers daughter has an erotic experience with someone she shouldn’t have.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; public sex, pet names (baby, pretty girl), 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓; oral (r!recieving), fingering, climax, virgin!r

𝐬𝐡𝐞; i suck at writing smut so bear with me.

it was a warm summer afternoon as you were walking home from a youth event at your church, a bible clutched tight to your chest. the sun shone brightly, and the birds sang heavenly in the trees, matching your own light and carefree spirit.

as you turned the corner, you ran into someone you’ve tried to avoid majority of your life. chris sturniolo. he exuded confidence and charm that drew people to him. women fell at his feet and were tricked by his smooth talk and good looks.

the two of you collided, causing you to stumble back. “oh my, i am so sorry!” you exclaimed, your accent declared itself due to the embarrassment of this interaction.

chris laughed, the sound deep and captivating. “it’s okay baby, here let me get that.” he motioned towards the large, pink bible that had fell previously. his fingers briefly brushed yours as he placed the bible back in your hands, sending a tingle up your small spine.

this tingle came significant in your body as you thanked him and your heart started to beat faster than it ever had. there was something so mysterious about him but you knew you had to stay away.

“let me walk you home,” chris offered, falling into step beside you. “it’s not safe for a pretty girl like yourself to be all alone.”

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

you couldn’t refuse, and as y’all walked, conversation sparked. chris asked you about your life, dreams, and hopes. he listened intently, his dark eyes fixed on you intently.

eventually, the two of you were stood at your front gate. “thank you for your help,” you said, blushing at this encounter as a whole.

he smiled, and his eyes seemed to smolder with an unspoken desire. “anytime, y/n. i loved getting to know you, pretty girl.”

as he turned to leave, you felt an unknown boldness wash over you. “would you like to come in for lemonade? my father won’t be home for a while.”

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

a slow, wicked grin spread across chris’ face as your heart skipped a beat. “of course, darlin’.”

they say on the the porch swing, sipping lemonade, and continued their conversation. you felt yourself relaxing in chris’ presence, drawn to the relentless charm you swore you hated.

as the sky turned to a deep violet, chris set his glass down and turned to face you, his hand gracing your knee. “you know, y/n, you’re not like these other girls. there’s something special about you.” this sentence alone made your heart skip a beat as he moved closer and closer to you with each passing moment.

“i’ve never really thought of myself as special.” you admitted to him.

chris leaned closer, his warm breath fanning softly against your cheek. “you should. you’re beautiful, y/n. and i can see that desire in your eyes. you want to experience life, don’t you?”

your breath caught in your throat as you nodded, unable to speak. you had never felt such a strong pull towards anyone before, and it was both exciting and scary.

his fingers gently tilted your chin up while his thumb brushed your lower lip. “let me show you” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. without another word, his lips began to attack yours in this bitter moment.

as the kiss deepened, he pulled you closer, his tongue seeking entrance, which earned a moan from you. chris’ hands slowly started to move down your body; ending below your ass. you gasp at this action.

the dainty cross worn in your neck was now just an accessory of your faith in this moment.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

“lie back” chris muttered in between kisses, shifting his attention towards your neck. you let out a breathy sigh as he peppered your neck with wet and sloppy kisses. when he found your sweet spot, your breath hitched. this small action earned a smirk from chris as he abused that spot; nibbling and biting at your skin. you but your lip to suppress a loud whimper you desperately wanted to let out.

eventually, one of his hands found your breast, cupping it gently. his thumb rubbed over your clothed nipple and you shivered. within a second or two, your top was off and his mouth was attached to it. your body jolts when you feel his tongue circling your hardened nipple; the fabric between your legs getting damp at his touch.

he gives the same attention as before to your other nipple, his scent invading your mind and body. ending with a few small kisses, he pulls away and looks into your eyes.

“you sure you want this?” he asks, his eyes never leaving yours. every part of you wanted and needed this but you knew you shouldn’t. his big brown eyes stared you down, analyzing your face and you just couldn’t say no.

so you nodded in response and his eyes lit up as he kissed his way down your body. once he was in front of where you needed him most, he slowly spread your legs apart.

he lifted up your skirt so that it was now laying in your exposed stomach. his thumb rubbed small circles on top of your thigh as he kissed your inner thigh. making his way closer and closer to your heat.

your body tingled in anticipation as chris was taking his precious time.

“chris” you whined. chris chuckled.

“i want you to enjoy this baby. just be patient.” he said in a low tone; almost was a whisper. his lips were grazed the edge of your panties, your body involuntarily jerking. chris smirked against you.

“so sensitive” he says before finally sliding off your underwear. your body started to heat up as chris just stared at your body in front of him. your mind racing with a thousand thoughts but they were abruptly silenced when you felt his tongue on your entrance.

his motions sped up in a quick second and your hand could be found in his hair, gripping it tightly the quicker he went.

“fuck” chris groaned. your hand in his hair made something grow beneath him which encouraged him to quicken the pace even more. your back arched out of its place on the wooden swing whilst your breath got heavier and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

he increased the pressure on his tongue; to which your moans heightened in sound and pitch. the feeling was just too good. you started to unintentionally squirm away from chris’ mouth the which he gripped your thighs to hold you in place. “don’t run away” he coos. as he scooted closer to your dripping cunt, he plunged his middle finger deep into it. this action caused you to yelp.

his finger moved swiftly in and out of your entrance as he flicked at you bud with his tongue. your hips bucked as all these feeling overstimulated you in the best way possible.

his finger curled within you against your g-spot which earned a plethora of moans from you.

eventually, chris added a second finger too. the noises from chris fucking you filled the air outside. chris gripped your left thigh as a way to keep your squirming in check.

your mind was completely blank as you pulsated with pleasure. you couldn’t stop shuddering. chris could tell by the way that you were clenching around your fingers that you were getting close; but you couldn’t tell that. he quickened his motions as he leaned up to give you a kiss, to which you couldn’t return it.

as you struggled to kiss back, your body shook intensely. “let it out” chris whispered into your ear.

after a few seconds, your body stopped. chris pulled his hand out only to reveal the mess you made on his fingers.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #zi’angel🕊️

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henrosa2 · 2 months ago

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Saturday prayer

Acts 3:6Then Peter said, “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.” Father, in Your mercy, give me and my family the grace to speak Your word with confidence in every situation that confronts me and my family in the name of Jesus Christ.

#Act now #Believe #Bold step #Change #Commitment #Confidence in God #Consistence #Courageous #Dedication #Don&039;t give up #Faith

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rayaaani · 23 days ago

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𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem!reader x piercer!se-mi

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut, semi has a tongue piercing cause why not , pain kink and dacryphilia if you squint really hard, dom!se-mi,inexperienced reader, mentions of blood and alcohol , reader is HAWTTTT.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I am terrible at writing smut but passed my English a levels with flying colours so literally everything else is better but I hope you enjoy my first fic and pls request stuff for me to write🙏

The breakup had left a hollow ache inside you. At first, you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal. People broke up every day, didn’t they? But as the days stretched into weeks, the reality sank in: they’d chosen someone else over you. The betrayal stung more than you were willing to admit.

Eunji, ever the faithful friend, was quick to notice your decline. One evening, after you canceled plans for the third time that week, she stormed into your apartment with wine, snacks, and a pointed determination to drag you out of your funk.

“You can’t keep moping around,” she said, tossing a throw pillow at you as you sulked on the couch. “You’re too hot to let them ruin you.”

You snorted, but the laughter felt foreign. “Hot? Eunji, I’ve barely showered this week.”

“Exactly my point,” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. “We’re doing a makeover. You’re going to remind yourself—and everyone else—exactly who the hell you are.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the idea had merit. That night, Eunji introduced the seed of rebellion: “Have you ever thought about dyeing your hair?

The next day, you stared at yourself in the mirror, box of red hair dye in hand.

The breakup had left you craving change, and this was your first step. The fiery red was bold, brash, and unapologetic—the exact opposite of how you felt. But as you worked the dye into your hair, you imagined yourself as the confident, fearless woman you wanted to become.

When you rinsed the dye out and styled your hair into loose, messy waves, you barely recognized the woman staring back. The red brought out a new intensity in your eyes, and the bold color paired with your nose piercing gave you an edge that felt exciting and liberating.

You snapped a picture and sent it to Eunji.

“Holy shit,” she texted back almost immediately. “You look like a goddamn rockstar. I’m coming over.”

“You need a new piercing to go with that hair,” Eunji announced as she lounged on your couch that evening.

“Piercing?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Something edgy. Like an eyebrow piercing. Ooh, or a lip ring!”

You laughed but found yourself considering it. “Do you have a place in mind?”

Eunji’s face lit up. “Black Needle Studio. Trust me, they’re the best. And,” she added with a smirk, “the piercer? Se-Mi? Hot. As. Fuck.”

“Hot, huh?” you said, intrigued despite yourself.

“Hot doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Eunji said, sitting up to look you in the eye. “She’s tall, gorgeous, and has these tattoos that’ll make you want to crawl into her lap. Her voice is low and smooth, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. And when she looks at you? It’s game over.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach. “You’re overselling this.”

“Nope,” Eunji said, grinning. “Book the appointment. You’ll see.”

The moment you stepped into Black Needle Studio, you understood what Eunji had meant.

Se-Mi was standing at the counter, casually flipping through a clipboard. Her fitted black tank top revealed toned arms covered in intricate tattoos, and her dark jeans clung to her figure in all the right ways. She had an aura of effortless confidence, like she owned the world and couldn’t care less if anyone knew it.

Her dark eyes lifted as you walked in, locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“Here for a piercing?” she asked, her voice low and smooth.

You nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze. “Yeah. Eyebrow piercing.”

Her lips curled into a faint smirk. “Good choice. Let’s get you set up.”

She led you to a private room, her movements fluid and purposeful. As she pulled on gloves and prepped the needle, the air between you felt charged.

“So,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension, “is this your first time?”

You shook your head. “I have a nose piercing.”

Her eyes flicked to your nose, lingering for a moment. “Looks good on you. You’ll rock the eyebrow, too.”

Your cheeks flushed under her gaze. “Thanks.”

As she cleaned and marked the area, her fingers brushed against your skin lightly, sending shivers down your spine.

“This might sting,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Think you can handle it?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding.

“Deep breath,” she instructed. The needle went through, and you let out a quiet whimper at the sharp pain.

“Doing okay?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. “You did great.”

When she handed you the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile. The piercing was perfect, adding a boldness to your face that made you feel invincible.

“Looks amazing,” she said, her smirk returning. “You wear it well.”

Your heart fluttered at her words, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she meant more than just the piercing.

That night, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. Everything about se-mi ,her confidence, her voice, the way her hands had lingered just a second longer than necessary—was etched into your mind.

You called Eunji the moment you got home.

“She’s unreal,” you said, pacing your apartment. “I mean, you said she was hot, but this is next-level. She has this presence. Like she knows exactly how to make you feel—”

“Like putty in her hands?” Eunji finished, laughing.

“Exactly!” you said, flopping onto your couch. “And her tattoos… God, Eunji, I don’t even know how I managed to form coherent sentences.”

“She sounds dangerous,” Eunji teased. “In the best way.”

You groaned. “What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and think about her all night?”

“Why not go out and celebrate?” Eunji suggested. “You look amazing with that new piercing. Let’s hit the club and show it off.”

You didn’t notice your ex until it was too late. They were across the room, laughing with the same “friend” they’d sworn was platonic. Your stomach churned, but you refused to let it ruin your night.

“Forget them,” Eunji said, pulling you back onto the dance floor.

The air in the club felt heavy with anticipation as you made your way toward the bar, but the presence of your ex caught your eye before you could focus on anything else. There they were, looking carefree and laughing with their friends, completely unaware of the storm swirling inside of you. It was almost maddening how unaffected they seemed, how easily they were moving on. But you? You felt like you were drowning in a sea of emotions, and you were desperate for an escape.

The alcohol had started to do its job, loosening your inhibitions and sharpening the edge of your boldness. The red satin dress you were wearing felt like armor—sexy, confident, a reflection of someone you didn’t recognize but was beginning to like.

As you walked, the club’s lights and music seemed to blur around you. The world was spinning slightly, but in a way that was freeing. Eunji, as usual, was by your side, guiding you through the crowd, but you didn’t care about much else except the burning need to feel alive again, to remind yourself that you were in control of your own life.

“I’m going to have fun tonight,” you muttered to Eunji, your voice slightly slurred.

Eunji grinned, her eyes alight with mischief. “Hell yeah you are. You’re looking amazing tonight. Just wait until you see how everyone reacts.”

You didn’t answer, too distracted by the flashes of neon lights and the rhythmic thump of the bass, which seemed to vibrate through your entire body. Your head felt light, the alcohol mixing with the adrenaline of the night, but something else was there too—a raw, burning desire to make a statement. To make someone feel something.

You spotted your ex across the room again, standing by the bar, and something twisted inside you. You hadn’t meant to walk into this situation looking for revenge, but here you were, wanting to show them that you were doing just fine without them. You weren’t the same girl who had left their apartment a few weeks ago, broken and lost. You were someone else now—someone better.

“Let’s have some fun,” you whispered to Eunji as you let go of her hand, pulling away from the crowd.

You didn’t know where you were going, but your feet seemed to carry you across the dance floor, past groups of people grinding to the beat, the alcohol in your system making you feel bold, almost daring. You were feeling good, feeling unstoppable.

And then you saw her.

Se-Mi was sitting off to the side, casually talking to a group of her friends. She hadn’t seen you yet, but you saw her, and the sight of her made something shift deep inside you.

She was stunning.

Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, her lips slightly curved into a smile as she laughed. You could see the way the light caught her piercing, the coolness in her demeanor that had drawn you in the first time you saw her. Se-Mi was magnetic—impossible to ignore. You couldn’t take your eyes off her, despite the fog of alcohol clouding your thoughts.

She didn’t see you yet, didn’t notice how your breath caught in your throat. But you were done standing back.

The plan had been to show your ex that you were moving on. But now, the impulse to do something—anything—to capture attention overwhelmed you. Without even thinking about it, you sauntered closer to Se-Mi’s booth, her laugh still ringing in the air around you. She didn’t look up, too absorbed in the conversation with her friends. You had to do something.

The alcohol in your system surged, and suddenly you found yourself standing right in front of her, just a few feet away. It was like the world had disappeared, leaving only the need to be seen, to make an impression.

Without warning, you closed the space between you, stepping forward and pressing your lips against hers. The kiss was clumsy, uncoordinated. You hadn’t planned it. But in that moment, the need to feel something—anything—drove you to act.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, the noise of the club fading into the background. Se-Mi didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into the kiss either. When you pulled back, her dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Care to explain what that was about?” she asked, her voice low and laced with amusement.

You swallowed hard, the realization of what you’d just done crashing over you. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

It was over in an instant.

Your cheeks burned, and before you could say anything else, Eunji appeared, grabbing your arm. “Time to dance!” she said, pulling you toward the dance floor.

You glanced back at Se-Mi as Eunji dragged you away. She was still watching you, her expression unreadable.

The music was still pounding in your ears as you stumbled off the dance floor, the alcohol swirling inside you, making everything feel just a bit hazy. You needed to get away from the chaos, to process what had just happened. Your head was spinning—both from the alcohol and from the memory of that kiss with Se-Mi.

You found Eunji at the bar, chatting with some random guy, but when she saw the look on your face, she immediately stopped talking and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice softening as she noticed the way you were swaying slightly on your feet.

“I… I think I did something really stupid,” you mumbled, leaning against the bar for support. You swallowed thickly, the weight of what had happened crashing down on you. “I kissed Se-Mi.”

Eunji blinked, her lips parting in surprise. “What?!”

“Yeah, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I just… I was drunk, and I wanted to make my ex jealous, and—” you paused, exhaling shakily, “it just happened. And now I don’t know what to do.”

Eunji took a long pause, looking at you carefully. “You kissed her? Like, Se-Mi kissed you?” she repeated, trying to process it.

You nodded, your face flushed. “Yeah, it was stupid. It was impulsive. I don’t even know why I did it.”

“But…” Eunji trailed off, glancing at you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “That means you’re going back, right? You’ve already booked your second session with her.”

Your stomach churned as you thought about it. “Yeah,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I already booked the second piercing… a snake eye piercing.”

Eunji raised an eyebrow. “So… you’re telling me you kissed her, and now you have to go back to her for a piercing?”

You nodded slowly, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. “Yeah. It’s going to be so awkward. I don’t even know what to say. Like, what if she brings it up?”

Eunji’s smirk only grew wider as she took a long sip of her drink. “You know, I think this is actually perfect,” she teased, clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding in your life. “You’re going back to her. She’s the one who’s going to be awkward now, not you.”

You couldn’t help but groan at the thought of the piercing session. It wasn’t just the awkwardness that made you nervous, though. It was the way your body was still humming with the memory of that kiss. The way your lips tingled when you thought about Se-Mi. You knew it wasn’t just a drunken mistake—it was something else. Something deeper.

Two days later, you found yourself standing in front of the piercing studio again, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for the door. The memory of your last visit—of Se-Mi’s steady hands and the way she had made you feel—rushed back, causing your heart to race.

You had managed to keep the details of the kiss to yourself, pushing the awkwardness aside, but now, as you entered the studio once again, you couldn’t help but feel that same tension between you and her. Would she bring it up? Would she make it awkward? You had no idea, but you were about to find out.

When you stepped into the studio, Se-Mi was there, just like last time, waiting behind the piercing counter. She looked as stunning as ever, her dark eyes sharp and confident as she gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Back again?” she said, her voice smooth and casual, as if nothing had happened. But there was something in the way her gaze lingered on you that told you she hadn’t forgotten.

You swallowed, trying to appear composed, but your voice was a little shaky. “Yeah. I… I’m here for the snake eye piercing.”

Se-Mi’s smile grew just a fraction wider, her lips curving up in a way that made your stomach flutter. “You’ve got good taste,” she said, her eyes glinting as she motioned for you to take a seat. “Ready for this?”

You nodded, but inside, you were anything but ready. The air felt thicker this time, charged with the underlying tension from your last encounter.

As you sat in the piercing chair, Se-Mi moved closer, her body leaning over you as she set everything up. The scent of her cologne mixed with the sterile smell of the studio, and you couldn’t help but notice the way her hands brushed against your skin as she prepped for the piercing.

“Okay,” she said, her voice a little softer now, a little more intimate, as she cleaned the area around your lip. “This one’s going to sting a little more than the last one.”

You nodded, your heartbeat quickening as you tried to keep your breathing steady. The proximity between you two felt intense, and the memory of that kiss—the softness of her lips, the heat of the moment—seemed to hang in the air like a shadow. You didn’t know if you should bring it up, if it was even worth mentioning. The awkwardness of the situation made it hard to think clearly.

Se-Mi’s fingers hovered over your lip, and you swore you could feel the electricity crackling between you as she looked into your eyes, her expression serious for just a moment. “You’re sure you want this?” she asked, her voice quiet, a little too soft.

You met her gaze, feeling the weight of the question, of everything that had happened between you two. For a brief second, it felt like the world around you stopped. You couldn’t deny that there was something magnetic, something dangerous in the way she was looking at you.

The silence between you and Se-Mi grew thick as you sat in the piercing chair, her hands moving with practiced precision as she prepped for your snake eye piercing. There was a strange kind of intimacy in the way she touched your skin, a closeness that sent shivers down your spine. She was so close, her body almost brushing against yours as she positioned herself in front of you, her eyes scanning your face with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You felt the weight of her gaze as she wiped the area around your tongue with antiseptic, her fingers gently caressing your lips as she prepared the piercing. You swallowed hard, trying to calm the nerves that suddenly fluttered in your chest, but the air in the room felt charged. It was more than just the physical closeness—there was an undeniable tension between you two, something that simmered beneath the surface, an unspoken understanding from that kiss you’d shared at the club.

Se-Mi’s voice broke through the silence, low and steady as she reassured you. “This one’s going to sting a bit more than the last one,” she said softly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You nodded, but your breath caught in your throat. The words didn’t make you nervous—what really made your heart race was the way she was looking at you. There was something about the way her gaze lingered on your lips, the way her fingers gently cupped your chin as she adjusted you, that made everything inside you feel tight and electric.

“Relax,” she murmured, her tone unexpectedly soothing. “You’re going to be fine. Just breathe.”

You tried to breathe, tried to calm yourself, but your mind was still reeling from the kiss, from the memory of Se-Mi’s lips on yours, and from the way the chemistry between you two seemed to thrum louder every time you were close.

“Okay,” Se-Mi said, her fingers tracing the outline of your lip before she positioned the needle. “Stick your tongue out for me.”

You obeyed without thinking, the action feeling almost instinctual as you extended your tongue toward her. Se-Mi’s eyes locked on yours for a brief moment, her lips pressing together as she focused on the task at hand. The intimacy of the moment hit you all at once, the proximity between you both becoming almost overwhelming.

She was so close. You could feel the heat of her breath against your lips as she hovered over you, her fingertips brushing against the skin around your mouth. Every small movement felt deliberate, charged with something deeper.

The tension was unbearable.

And then, before you could fully prepare yourself, you felt the sharp sting of the needle as Se-Mi pierced your tongue. A soft whimper escaped your lips as the pain radiated through your mouth, your whole body tensing from the sudden sensation. The sharp discomfort mixed with a strange sense of pleasure, a rush that made your head spin.

Se-Mi’s eyes flickered up to meet yours immediately, her gaze intense. “It’s okay, just breathe,” she said, her voice much softer now, almost as if she was aware of the sound that had slipped from you. There was something undeniably intimate about it—the way she was so close, the way her eyes softened just slightly as she watched you.

You couldn’t help but notice the way her lips parted slightly, her focus not just on the piercing but on you—on your reactions. It was as if she was studying you, waiting for the next shift in your expression. You could feel the heat in your face, your chest tight from both the pain and the strange way her attention made you feel.

As she adjusted the needle for the second part of the piercing, you whimpered again, the pain making your body tense up. But this time, Se-Mi’s fingers brushed against your lips in a way that made your heart skip. She didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she lingered there, as if savoring the moment.

“Almost done,” Se-Mi whispered, her voice low and unexpectedly tender.

You nodded, your tongue still extended, your body still trembling slightly from the intensity of the experience. But what lingered in your mind wasn’t just the pain—it was the way Se-Mi’s eyes had locked on yours, the way she seemed to be taking in every detail of you. It was the way her fingers had brushed against your skin, the warmth of her touch making your heart race.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Se-Mi finished the piercing. She slowly withdrew the needle, her fingers gently adjusting the jewelry in place. Your breathing was heavy, the pain still lingering but fading as the piercing settled.

Se-Mi moved back slightly, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if evaluating the change. There was something different in the air now, something thick and unspoken between you two. She reached for a small tissue and gently dabbed at your lips, her fingers lingering longer than necessary as she wiped away the trace of blood.

“You did great,” she said, her voice soft but with a hint of something deeper in it now, something you couldn’t quite place.

But as she looked at you, you realized it wasn’t just the piercing that had shifted between you two. It was the connection—unspoken, undeniable—that you couldn’t ignore anymore.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice a little shaky, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions and sensations. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what you were feeling—pain, relief, and something else entirely, something that made your pulse quicken.

Se-Mi’s gaze didn’t break from yours as she handed you a small mirror to examine the new piercing. You took it, but your hands were trembling slightly, not just from the aftereffects of the piercing but from the way Se-Mi was watching you. It was as if she could see straight through you, like she knew exactly what you were thinking, what you were feeling.

The room felt too small now, the air too thick, as Se-Mi hovered over you, the aftermath of your piercing session still lingering. Her fingers had just finished securing the jewelry in place, but it was clear that something else was hanging in the air, something more potent and undeniable. You could feel her presence radiating toward you, and the space between you two seemed to shrink with every breath you took.

Se-Mi leaned against the counter beside you, her eyes never leaving yours. You didn’t need to look at her for long to know what was coming. You had hoped she wouldn’t bring it up—but you knew she would. The kiss.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and for a moment, the dominant energy she gave off was overwhelming. There was no softness in her gaze now, no question about it—this was not the Se-Mi you had known before. This was the one who commanded attention, who knew exactly what she wanted, and she was looking right at you as though she was daring you to say something.

“About that kiss…” Se-Mi’s voice was steady, almost too calm, like she was savoring the control she had over the moment. The words hung in the air, thick with the tension that had been building between you two since the first time your lips met.

You hesitated, biting your lip as your mind raced. That kiss had been so impulsive, so reckless, but now, in this charged atmosphere, you could feel the weight of it. You could feel the heat of Se-Mi’s gaze on you, the way her presence filled the room, making it impossible for you to look away.

“You think it was just about making your ex jealous, don’t you?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if she was reading you, seeing right through the facade. “But I don’t believe that. Not for a second.”

You swallowed hard. She was right. It hadn’t been just about your ex—it had been about something else, something deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“I—” Your voice faltered as you tried to explain, but Se-Mi wasn’t interested in hearing any excuses.

She stepped closer, the movement deliberate, the space between you two shrinking as she towered over you. Her gaze locked onto yours, her presence commanding. There was nothing gentle in the way she looked at you now—just pure, unrelenting focus.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Se-Mi interrupted, her tone low, almost dangerous. “You kissed me because you wanted to. Don’t try to lie to yourself.” She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your skin. “And now… I think you want something more.”

The words hit you like a jolt of electricity. You felt your pulse race, your heart hammering in your chest as your body betrayed your thoughts. You knew what she was implying, and the way she was looking at you—no, the way she was claiming you—made it impossible to ignore what was happening.

Se-Mi was right. You wanted more. You wanted her.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. All you could do was stare back at her, your body tense, your breath shallow as her proximity consumed you.

“You wanted to make him jealous, but now,” Se-Mi’s voice dropped lower, laced with dark amusement, “you’ve got me wondering if you want to make me jealous.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your lips parting slightly as you tried to process what she was saying. But Se-Mi didn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, her hand shot out, gripping your chin with firm fingers, tilting your face upward.

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad. But I think it’s time we finish what we started.” Her tone left no room for argument. It was clear that this wasn’t a question anymore. She was in control.

Before you could react, Se-Mi pulled you forward by your chin, her lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was demanding, hungry, and she made sure you felt every bit of it. Her tongue slid into your mouth, bold and forceful, taking control of the kiss as though she owned it—and you.

Your hands instinctively reached for her arms, your fingers digging into the muscles of her forearm as her body pressed closer. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the heat radiating off of her, her chest pressed against yours, making it impossible to ignore how badly you needed her.

Se-Mi pulled away, her lips just a hair’s breadth from yours. She stared down at you with an intensity that sent a wave of heat rushing through you. “You like this, don’t you?” she whispered, her voice thick with dominance. “You like the way I make you feel.”

You nodded instinctively, your breath ragged as your body reacted to the dominance in her voice. She was right. Every second with her felt electrified, like she was pulling at every nerve in your body, forcing you to feel everything all at once.

With a sudden, decisive movement, Se-Mi gripped your waist and spun you in the chair, forcing you to face the mirror. “Look at yourself,” she commanded, her voice low and stern. “You’re a mess, and I haven’t even started yet.”

You glanced at your reflection, seeing yourself in a new light. Your lips were swollen from the kiss, your cheeks flushed with heat, and your eyes… they held the same hunger that Se-Mi’s gaze did.

When you turned to look back at her, Se-Mi’s expression was a mix of satisfaction and something darker, something more possessive. She stepped closer again, her hands moving to your shoulders as she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your body trembled at her touch, the tension between you both unbearable. You didn’t want her to stop. You wanted more—wanted her to claim you, to make you hers completely.

And Se-Mi seemed to know exactly how to do that.

Se-Mi’s gaze sharpened, her expression hardening as she took a step back, assessing you with a look that left no room for defiance. The air between you two crackled with intensity as she stood tall, her body language exuding authority.

“Sit back down,” she commanded, her voice firm, almost cold. “I haven’t finished yet.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the force in her tone. There was no mistaking her intent. She wasn’t asking; she was telling you, and the power behind her words sent a shiver down your spine. Without thinking, you obeyed, moving quickly to sit back in the chair where she had initially positioned you, your body already betraying you with the pulse of anticipation.

Se-Mi didn’t waste any time. As soon as you were seated, she moved closer, her body encroaching upon yours in a way that felt deliberate, as though she was making sure you understood who was in control.

“Good,” she murmured, her voice laced with authority and a hint of satisfaction.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched you with an intensity that made your heart race. There was no hesitation in her movements as she shifted to her knees, her posture predatory and confident. She reached for the hem of your skirt, her fingers brushing against the fabric with purpose, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Always playing coy,” she murmured, her voice low and laced with a hint of amusement. She tugged at the fabric with a firm motion, the sudden action pulling the skirt down, leaving you exposed to her gaze. The way she looked at you made your breath hitch—there was no mistaking her control, no room left for doubt.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, the feeling of her hands so close to your skin sending a shiver down your spine. Semi leaned in just enough for you to feel her breath against your ear, the proximity causing your pulse to quicken.

“Is this what you wanted?” she whispered, her voice dripping with both challenge and satisfaction.

Se-Mi’s eyes glinted with something darker as she stood in front of you, her posture exuding dominance. She had moved with such deliberate precision, and now, with your skirt tugged down, the air between you felt charged, suffocating with the weight of her presence.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out—your breath caught in your throat as her gaze never wavered from you. The silence between you two felt thick, like something was waiting to snap.

“Fuck I’ve wanted you since I first saw you walk through that studio” her voice low and hungry.

Her lips curled into a smirk, her eyes dark with intent. She took a step closer, her movements slow, measured, and with each step, the distance between you two seemed to disappear.

“You’re not going to ignore me now, are you?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Answer me.”

You stayed silent, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment to speak, the words locked in your throat. Your pulse quickened as she leaned in just enough for you to feel the heat of her breath against your ear.

Se-Mi’s hand shot out suddenly, gripping your chin with firm fingers, forcing you to look directly into her eyes. “I asked you a question,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You’re going to answer me, or I’ll stop right here.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. The threat was clear, but it was the way she said it—the unyielding certainty in her tone—that made you freeze.

Her grip tightened slightly, a warning, and she leaned in just enough to make sure you heard her clearly. “Tell me. What do you want?”

The pressure in the air was unbearable. You swallowed hard, your thoughts a jumbled mess as you tried to process everything, but her presence, her control over the situation, left you with no choice but to answer. You couldn’t risk her stopping.

“I want you,” you breathed out, your voice barely audible, but it was enough. The words, the truth, were out in the open now.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She smiles at you , sending you through a whirlwind of emotions. You were in a daze, trying to process that this was actually happening, you? Getting fucked by this hot piercer? No way. You were caught off guard when she shoved her fingers into you.

You bite back a moan, holding your hand to your mouth

“No princess, let me hear you” she gawks as she snatches your hand away and continues thrusting her fingers into you, her cold jewellery adding to the sensation.

“S-Se-mi…” you gasp, your voice shaky.

She cuts you off, her tone sharp yet commanding. “Enough. Let me take care of you,” she says, her eyes never leaving yours. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” She then latches her mouth onto your clit without warning, navigating and exploring into you and she continues to scissor her fingers into you roughly.

Is that a tounge piercing?

Tears start to spill from the corners of your eyes from stimulation , it just felt too good. She looked up at you with her beautiful brown eyes, maintaining eye contact and she indulged into you.

She was so experienced. She flicked her tongue skillfully across your cunt, capturing all segments of flavour in her tongue and savouring the taste. She occasionally presses kisses into your thighs admiring all aspects of your body “you taste so sweet~” she says seductively, making you just want to jump and kiss her.

She curls her finger into you , hitting your g-spot leaving you to rip out loud moans into this echoey room.

“I’m gonna-“

“I can feel you tensing around me,cum for me princess” and upon hearing her sweet words. You came on the spot, your sticky arousal coming out and leaving a trace on the chair, on semis face and on her fingers.

She slowly licked her lips, her eyes locking onto yours. “For someone so feisty, you surprisingly taste sweet,” she remarked, her voice still calm but laced with an unmistakable edge.

You found yourself unable to meet her gaze, a flush creeping up your neck as you shyly looked away, the heat of the moment overwhelming you.

She smirked, her tone darkening just slightly. “But I’m not finished with you yet. You still owe me.”

You looked at her dumbfounded, unsure of what to do and how to please her “don’t look so confused now princess, you heard what I said so get to work.” She said feistily and all you could do was obey her.

You pull her into a hot kiss while her hands snake up to your neck, choking you lightly as she deepens the kiss, your tongues gliding across each other in a messy manner. This kiss was fully of urgency, something dark. Your new piercing in your mouth arousing her.

You then go down caressing her body and leaving occasional pecks to place such as her collarbone and side. You stare at her body for a second, staring in anticipation , you’d never done this to a girl before. “what are you waiting for?” Semi bellowed commandingly. You decide to just do what you possibly can and rip the jeans that once adorned her legs off.

You move through the layer and finally meet with her cunt. You place little kitten licks on her cunt which cause little whimpers to leave her mouth, you eventually start using longer tongue movements and suck on her clit just like she did to you and teasingly bite her clit which makes her even louder than before “you wanted me to do this aswell right?” You say teasingly and seductively “just shut up” she says, biting back moans to not let her nonchalant image crumble. Her hips buck into your mouth and she fists your hair from behind, harshly dragging it to her clit as she reaches down to grope your tits.

Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps, her hands gripping you tightly as the tension in the air she rode out her high . Her body trembled slightly, her eyes closing as she let out a soft moan of satisfaction. The intensity of the moment lingered between you two, a shared, unspoken understanding that filled the room with heat.

“So beautiful,” she whispered, her voice low and full of admiration. Her gaze softened as she held you, her hands gently guiding you closer as you collapsed against her, the warmth of her body wrapping around you in the aftermath.

After the intensity of the moment, the atmosphere between you and her softened. There was a quiet stillness in the room now, the heavy air of the moment slowly dissipating. Semi, still a bit breathless, reached for a nearby towel, her movements smooth and deliberate.

Without a word, she gently wiped you down, her touch careful as she made sure you were comfortable. Her eyes flickered to yours, a silent understanding between you two as she continued. There was something soothing about her actions, an unspoken tenderness in the way she moved.

Once she finished with you, Se-Mi stood, her posture still commanding, yet there was a softness in her expression. She handed you a fresh towel, her lips curving into a small smile. “You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less genuine.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you two. The act of cleaning up was simple, but it carried with it a sense of care and connection, as if it was a small but important gesture after the intensity you had just shared.

The next morning, you sat at a café with Eunji, trying to act like everything was normal. But inside, you were anything but. You kept replaying the events of the night before, the way Se-Mi’s gaze had held yours, the unexpected intensity of everything that happened. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you two, something that felt too big to ignore.

“So, what happened after the piercing?” Eunji asked, clearly curious. She leaned in, eager to hear every detail, her eyes wide with anticipation.

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain what you were feeling without giving too much away. You hadn’t even fully processed everything yourself. “It was… intense,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Like, she made everything feel… so real. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Eunji raised an eyebrow. “Real how? What do you mean?”

You paused, thinking about how to put it into words. The pull between you and Se-Mi was undeniable, but how could you explain that to your best friend without sounding completely ridiculous? “It was like… like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she was in control, but in this way that made me feel… I don’t know, completely drawn to her.”

Eunji smiled knowingly. “Ah, I get it. You’re into her, huh?”

You sighed, nodding reluctantly. “I think I am. But I don’t know what to do about it. Everything’s so… confusing. And last night—well, it was a lot.”

Before you could say anything more, your phone buzzed on the table, breaking the moment. You glanced down, surprised to see an unknown number flashing on the screen. You hadn’t recognized the number, but there was something about it that made your stomach drop.

Eunji didn’t seem to notice, busy stirring her coffee, so you quickly unlocked your phone. A message from the unknown number appeared, and your heart raced as you opened it.

It was a video. Your mind was still spinning as you hit play, and the first few moments made your heart skip. It was a clip from the night before—your time at the piercing studio. You watched in stunned silence as the video played out, the intimate moments between you and Se-Mi playing in front of your eyes. Her gaze, the closeness, the way she’d touched you, it was all so vivid and real again.

The message beneath the video made everything feel too raw, too real.

Hey, it’s Se-Mi. I’m sorry, but you just looked too cute here.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of what you were seeing hit you. You stared at the screen, your mind racing, unsure of how to process what you were looking at. Your phone felt like it was burning in your hands, the uncertainty of the situation making it even more intense. You had to know what Se-Mi meant, what was going on, but there was no way to ask just yet.

@rayaaani

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