#but i’m moving past that now that i want to create my own

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (1); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, potential smut

Word Count: 6.6k+

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Chapter Warnings: nothing major for now, lmk if i should add anything.

A/N: okay so after much thought, I decided to write this fic because Crazy Rich Asians is, without a doubt, my ultimate comfort movie. I literally rewatch it every chance I get because there's just something about the vibes, the story, and the characters that I can never move on from. That’s exactly why I wanted to create my own little version of it, with Jungkook as the main character. let me know your thoughts and tell me if this is worth continuing. also should i make a taglist for this?

part 1

Jungkook sits in the dimly lit corner of the restaurant, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his water glass. The soft hum of classical music mingles with the low chatter of the people around, but none of it distracts him from the bubbling anticipation inside as he waits for you.

It’s been four months since the two of you had officially started dating, and though you guys had been cautious about defining what you meant to each other, these past months have solidified everything for him. You aren’t just someone he likes... you’re someone who makes his world brighter in ways he never thought possible.

New York has been his home for years now, but it didn’t always feel that way. When he abruptly moved here with his mom during high school, he reluctantly traded the familiar streets of Busan and the ocean breeze he grew up with for the city that never sleeps.

The move was sudden, jarring even, but over time, he adjusted. The city shaped him, sharpening his edges and teaching him resilience. Now, he’s built a life here, chasing his passion for storytelling as a photographer and documentary filmmaker, capturing untold stories that deserve to be heard.

Life was peaceful... steady, even. And then you walked in and turned everything upside down, in a good way.

He met you almost a year ago, purely by chance. He was documenting behind-the-scenes moments at a charity gala, a commission he almost didn’t take, when you appeared, orchestrating the chaos of models, designs, and flashing cameras like the professional powerhouse you are.

You were magnetic, the kind of person who commanded attention without even trying. Jungkook watched from behind his lens, capturing candid moments until one of your colleagues introduced him to you.

“Ah, so you’re the genius behind the lens.” you teased, offering a hand. “I’m Y/N, the one responsible for the clothes you’re immortalizing.”

Your confidence threw him off guard, but what stayed with him was your laugh... so soft and so genuine, the kind that lingers in his mind long after the event ends.

What followed after was a series of serendipitous run-ins—an art exhibit here, a mutual friend’s dinner there. Each meeting peeled back another layer of who you are, until he realized he was utterly captivated.

Now, as he waits for you to arrive tonight, Jungkook can’t help but think of how far the two of you have come. A lot can change in a year, he thinks. His lips tug into a small smile at the thought of your teasing voice, your quick wit, the way you light up every room you enter. You’ve become the best part of his life, and for the first time in years, he feels genuinely happy.

The sound of heels clicking against the polished floor pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks up, and there you are. You wear a soft pink dress that hugs your form perfectly, your hair framing your face in a way that makes his heart skip. When your eyes meet his, you smile instantly, and Jungkook feels his pulse quicken.

“Sorry I’m late.” you say as you reach the table, placing your bag on the chair as you watch him pull out the chair for you. “I got caught up at work.” you say, taking a seat.

“No need to apologize.” he says warmly, going back to his side of the table. “You’re here now and you look... incredible.”

You roll your eyes playfully, though your cheeks betray you with a faint flush. “Says the guy who looks like he just walked out of a GQ spread.” you giggle.

“Only because I knew I’d be sitting across from you.” he shoots back with a grin. You laugh, shaking your head as you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “Flirt.”

The conversation flows as effortlessly as always, a mix of updates about your respective work lives and lighthearted banter. You tell him about the chaos of coordinating last-minute changes for an upcoming fashion week, while he shares stories from his recent project, a documentary highlighting immigrant artists in the city.

But midway through dinner, he notices a shift in your demeanor. Your laughter softens, and you begin fiddling with the edge of your napkin, a subtle sign of nerves he’s come to recognize.

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his hand gently over yours. “You okay?” he asks, his tone soft but laced with concern. You glance up at him, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

His brow furrows slightly, but his touch remains steady, reassuring. “I’m all ears.”

You take a deep breath, your gaze flicking between him and the table as you speak. “So, um... in three weeks, my brother is getting married. The wedding’s in Daegu, my hometown and my whole family's planning.. all these... these events leading up to it, and...” You pause, mustering the courage to meet his eyes. “and I’d really like you to come... with me.”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily caught off guard. You’ve rarely spoken about your family during your time together. All he knows is that you have an older brother whose name is Kim Taehyung, and that your work keeps you far from home. You’ve always been reserved when it comes to personal matters, and he never pushed, understanding that some things take time to share.

“You want me to meet your family?” he asks, his voice careful but touched with wonder.

You nod, your fingers curling slightly under his. “I know it’s a big step, but... you’re important to me, Jungkook. I want you to know them and I want them to know you... and i just.... I just want you to be there.”

His heart swells at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest that he hasn’t felt in years. He squeezes your hand gently, a soft smile curving his lips. “Of course I’ll go.” he says, his voice steady and full of certainty. “Thank you for asking me. This means a lot, Y/N.”

You exhale, relief washing over your features as your lips tug into a smile. “You have no idea how nervous I was to bring it up.”

“Well, you don’t have to be nervous about anything when it comes to me.” he says, his tone teasing but sincere. “Though... should I be nervous about meeting your family? Any tips I need to survive?”

You laugh, the tension melting away as his words reassure you. “Just be yourself. They’ll love you... I hope.”

“They’d be crazy not to.” he grins, his confidence laced with a playful charm.

As the conversation moves forward, Jungkook can’t shake the weight of what you’ve just shared. This isn’t just an invitation... it’s a glimpse into the part of your world you’ve kept hidden. And he knows, without a doubt, that he wants to be part of it.

//

The three weeks seem to blur together for Jungkook, filled with excitement, planning, and the growing anticipation of returning to Korea. Now, he’s standing just outside the bustling airport, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, glancing at the crowd for any sign of you. He knows you’ll be here soon with the tickets, and just the thought of seeing you has a smile tugging at his lips.

It’s been years since he last visited Korea, and the idea of going back stirs up a mix of emotions... nostalgia, eagerness, and a tinge of nervousness. But it isn’t just your family he’s excited to meet... he can’t stop thinking about reuniting with Yoongi, an old friend from his university days.

Jungkook remembers how they first met. Yoongi, fresh from Daegu, adapting to the fast pace of New York, with a wit and humor that made their friendship click instantly. They spent countless nights bonding over shared meals and dreams, but after Yoongi finished his studies and returned to Korea, they lost touch. Now, the opportunity to see him again feels like a bonus to this trip.

When Jungkook had mentioned that he'd be visiting Daegu for a short trip to Yoongi during a rare phone call, Yoongi had insisted, “You better visit me for lunch or dinner the second you land, Jeon. I’ll be waiting.” It had been less of an invitation and more of a command and a promise Jungkook fully intends to keep.

His thoughts are interrupted when he spots you approaching with your suitcase. Your face lights up the moment your eyes meet, and Jungkook feels his heart lift as he strides forward to greet you. He pulls you into a hug, planting a soft kiss on your lips, his familiar warmth seeping into you.

“You ready for this?” you ask, your grin contagious. “With you? Always.” he affirms easily, grabbing your suitcase to lighten your load as the two of you head towards security.

After passing through the usual chaos of airport checks, you finally board the plane. Jungkook trails closely behind, his eyes scanning the rows of economy seats, prepared to settle in for the long flight. But you keep walking, breezing past one row after another, heading towards the front of the plane.

“Y/N...” he calls softly, a frown of confusion crossing his features. “I think we passed our seats.” You barely glance back, simply motioning for him to follow with a playful wave of your hand. “Just trust me, Kook.”

Jungkook’s confusion only grows as you step into the business class section. His steps slow as he takes in his surroundings... the stark difference from the cramped seats in economy hits him instantly. Business class looks like another world.

The seats are spacious, arranged in private compartments with high partitions for privacy. The lighting is soft and ambient, with a warm golden glow that feels more like a cozy lounge than an airplane cabin. Flight attendants move quietly through the aisles, offering passengers drinks and handing out fancy pajama sets.

Jungkook’s jaw drops as he watches you casually slide into one of the luxurious seats, making yourself comfortable. He hurries forward, his voice incredulous. “Y/N, this is business class... Our seats aren’t here!”

You look up at him with a calm smile, gesturing to the seat beside yours. “They gave me an upgrade.” you say simply, patting the spot for him to sit. His eyes narrow in confusion as he sets down his bag. “Upgrade? Can we even afford this?” he asks, using his hands to gesture towards the private compartment.

You laugh lightly, already reclining your seat with the touch of a button. “Relax, Kook. My family has some business ties with the airline. It’s just a little perk.” (Nick Young coded girlfriend)

“A little perk?” he repeats, his voice full of disbelief as he finally sits down. He presses a button on the armrest, watching in awe as the seat reclines into a flatbed. “Y/N, this isn’t a perk... this is a dream. Look at this place! It’s like a five-star hotel in the air.”

You grin, watching his childlike amazement as he fiddles with every feature. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to economy class now...that feels like a distant nightmare.”

A flight attendant approaches with a tray of pre-departure champagne, offering the glasses with a polite smile. Jungkook accepts one hesitantly, holding it up like it might break. “Champagne? On a plane? This is insane.” he continues.

You can't help but giggle at his cuteness as you casually take a sip from your glass as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

As the plane prepares for takeoff, Jungkook leans back in his seat, still marveling at the luxurious surroundings. He sneaks another glance at you, the contentment on your face making his heart swell. This trip is already shaping up to be unforgettable, and it hasn’t even truly started yet.

//

Jungkook feels the weight of your pout pressed against his chest as you stand in his arms, his hands gently brushing through your hair in a comforting motion. He can’t help but smile softly, though he feels the tiniest tug at his heart seeing you so disappointed.

He knew this lunch with Yoongi was important, and he knew you understood... at least, logically. But seeing the way you looked at him, that little furrow between your brows, made him feel a little guilty. “It’s just lunch, baby.” he says, his voice soothing, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek.

“I promised him, and he never takes no for an answer.” He chuckles softly, but his smile fades when he feels the reluctance in your grip on him.

You knew he had plans with Yoongi the moment you touched down in Daegu. You had known this from the start, had heard about the lunch plan in passing, but that didn’t make the feeling any easier to shake.

The thought of him going off without you, to catch up with an old friend while you drove home alone, kind of made you sad. You were fully aware of the importance of this lunch, but that didn’t stop the tiny selfish part of you from wishing he’d be with you, just for a little while longer.

“I know...” you murmur, your voice betraying the tiny bit of sulk in your tone, but you try to let it go. You weren’t going to hold him back. "Fine." you finally say, pulling back to meet his gaze.

And the way he looks at you affectionately makes you feel like you’ve won some small victory. “But...” you add with a little smile. “I expect you to be at my place at 7. You know my grandma’s having that traditional tea ceremony thing and I promised her I was bringing someone special home.”

His eyes light up at your words, the thought of joining you for something so important and so personal. “Of course.” he replies without hesitation, his voice earnest. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

You smile softly, knowing he means it. And yet, despite his assurances, you can’t shake the lingering feeling of missing him. Just a little. Before you can dwell on it too much, you hear a voice break through the moment.

“Ms. Kim.”

You turn, blinking a little in surprise as your driver steps forward, his presence bringing a sudden rush of formality to the otherwise intimate moment. “The car is here.” he states matter-of-factly, and you know that this is your cue to part ways.

You sigh softly, reluctantly loosening your hold around Jungkook’s waist, but not without giving him one last lingering look. Your lips curl in a pout, but you try to hide it behind the gentle smile you offer him.

“Okay then…” you start, your voice trailing off as you look at him, uncertainty settling in your chest. “I’ll see you soon?” The question hangs in the air, like a promise and a plea all at once.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, that familiar ache in his chest growing stronger as he sees the hint of vulnerability in your eyes. But then his lips curl upward, soft but sincere. “Of course, baby. I’ll be there. I love you.” His words are steady, and his eyes hold something deeper than just affection... something unwavering.

You nod quickly, feeling a mix of relief and longing. “I love you too.” you whisper back before turning away, following your driver towards the airport's exit.

Jungkook watches you walk away, his heart heavy in his chest, the pang of guilt creeping up again. He promises himself to make it up to you later. Now, he just needed to get through lunch with Yoongi.

But as soon as the sound of your footsteps fades and you disappear from his sight, his phone buzzes in his pocket. The familiar name on the screen catches his attention, and he answers without a second thought. “Hey, Mom.”

Her voice crackles through the line, warm but concerned. “Hello Jungkook-ah, I just wanted to check in. You landed safely?” she asks.

Jungkook listens to his mom’s voice on the other end of the line, the familiar warmth making him smile despite the anxiousness he feels about what’s ahead. He’s about to step into a world that’s so different from New York, where he’s spent most of his adult life. But now, back in Korea, things feel unfamiliar in a way that both excites and intimidates him.

“Yes, Ma... I landed a while ago.” he answers, feeling a small wave of relief hearing her voice. “That’s good, honey... How’s Y/N?” she asks with that gentle concern she always has for the people he cares about.

“She’s good. She just left though, and I’m waiting for Yoongi to come pick me up.” he replies, smiling softly as he instantly thinks of you. “How does it feel to be back in Korea?” he hears his mom question, her tone soft but curious.

He smiles, leaning against the nearest pillar with his luggage beside him as he waits for Yoongi. “So far, so good, but I’m still at the airport, so I can’t say much.” he jokes. His mom lets out a quiet laugh, the sound comforting.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she switches to a more serious tone. “Remember what I told you, Kook... Stay put there. You know how it is in Korea... with the elders and the... the people. It’s very different from here, so please take care with what you say and how you say it.”

It’s a reminder he’s heard before, but hearing it again feels heavier now that he’s here, about to meet your family and step into a culture that’s rooted in tradition and respect, something that’s been passed down for generations.

Jungkook’s smile falters for a moment as he nods, even though she can’t see him. He knows exactly what she means. He’s always been more carefree, more western in his ways of expressing himself, and in Korea, especially when it comes to elders, there’s a deep respect for hierarchy and custom that’s different from what he’s generally used to.

“I know, Ma. I’ll keep everything in mind.” he assures her, his voice more serious now. “You’re not a kid anymore, Kook, but just... be mindful, okay? Don’t let them misunderstand your intentions. I just want you to be careful.” Her voice softens with motherly concern, and Jungkook feels his heart warm.

“I will. I promise.” he replies, knowing that this trip, meeting your family... it’s more important than ever to prove to them that he’s not just another guy in the city.... he’s not just your boyfriend. He wants to show them how serious he is about you and the future you guys could have together.

He glances around at the busy terminal, the buzz of passengers and the distant announcements. It all feels so different from New York. So... foreign. But he’ll make it through. He’s used to adapting. And this, he tells himself, is just the beginning.

“Alright, Kook... you take care, yeah?” she says. Jungkook hums. "I will. Bye, Ma." he replies back and soon, the call ends.

Just as Jungkook tucks his phone back into his pocket, he hears a deafening roar that cuts through the murmur of the airport. The unmistakable sound of an engine revving... loud, aggressive, and powerful, draws his attention immediately.

His head snaps to the right, eyes scanning the street. His gaze locks onto a sleek purple Lamborghini, its engine purring with a force that vibrates the ground beneath him as it races towards him.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, an instinctive suspicion flickering across his face as the car approaches. He’s not sure why, but something feels… off, or rather, intriguing. The car comes to an abrupt halt right in front of him, the tires squealing as they grip the asphalt. Jungkook freezes, blinking in disbelief.

The tinted window slowly rolls down, and for a moment, everything seems to move in slow motion. When the driver’s face comes into view, Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. “Yoongi?!” he exclaims, his voice tinged with utter shock and disbelief.

Yoongi grins, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ain’t no way...” Jungkook mutters under his breath, still processing the surreal sight of Yoongi sitting behind the wheel of a car that looks like it belongs to someone straight out of a high-stakes action movie. Yoongi chuckles, clearly amused by Jungkook’s reaction.

“What’s good, my man? Meet my baby.” Yoongi says with a sly smirk, his fingers casually tracing the contours of the steering wheel like this car was just an everyday ride for him.

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open in awe. He can’t remember the last time he was this speechless. The purple Lamborghini gleams under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the neon glow of the airport. Jungkook’s eyes follow every curve, every sharp angle, as if seeing it in person is somehow more unreal than he could have ever imagined.

Yoongi, clearly unfazed by the wide-eyed look Jungkook is giving him, steps out of the car with an effortless swagger. He’s dressed in an oversized, silk button-up shirt that drapes over his frame in a relaxed way.

The half-sleeves of the shirt billow out just above his elbows, adding a laid-back yet refined touch to his look. Paired with the shirt are matching shorts that reach just below his knees, the material soft and flowy, almost weightless.

Around his neck, a thick silver chain glints in the sunlight, its boldness standing out against the simplicity of his outfit, giving him an air of casual but undeniable wealth.

Without a word, he grabs Jungkook’s luggage from the ground and begins loading it into the trunk of his car.

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and watches him, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Get in, dude." Yoongi laughs with a nudge to Jungkook’s shoulder, his tone light, almost playful, as he walks back around to the driver’s side.

Jungkook slides into the plush passenger seat, still feeling like he’s stepped into another world. The interior of the Lamborghini is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. As his eyes roam around, Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s in a dream.

Every inch of the car screams excess, sophistication, and unspoken wealth. The steering wheel is trimmed in carbon fiber, the gearshift feels solid in Yoongi’s hand, and everything seems perfectly engineered, like it was crafted for the few who could afford such a ride.

Yoongi starts the engine with a smooth hum, and Jungkook jerks his head towards him, still shocked. "You never told me you had a Lamborghini." he says, his voice betraying his disbelief.

Yoongi just laughs, his eyes glancing briefly at Jungkook before focusing back on the road. "Well, that's because I didn’t have this back in university." he shrugs nonchalantly, a casual smirk playing on his lips. The car pulls smoothly out of the airport, its engine growling like a beast waking up.

Jungkook stares at him, still processing everything. "But wow, dude? You hit the lottery or something? This car is insane." he breathes out. Yoongi chuckles again but doesn’t answer, as if the question doesn’t deserve a response.

The city of Daegu blurs by outside the tinted windows, the sun reflecting off the glass as they drive deeper into the heart of the city. Jungkook can feel the rhythm of the drive, the perfect balance between speed and luxury, as the Lamborghini effortlessly weaves through traffic, its engine purring in a low, contented hum.

The sound of the tires on the road and the occasional rumble of the car’s exhaust fill the silence between them as they talk. Their conversation drifts to more casual topics... catching up on life after university, their mutual friends, and everything in between. Jungkook listens intently, but something about the ride and everything else, still has him on edge.

Then, suddenly, the city streets begin to change. The hustle and bustle of downtown Daegu fades away, replaced by quiet, tree-lined roads and grand, gated estates. Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion. The mansions are larger than anything he’s ever seen.

Multi-story buildings with sprawling lawns, perfectly manicured gardens, and tall gates that exude old money. The kind of money that felt untouchable, like a world he’d never thought he’d be a part of.

Yoongi slows the car as they approach a massive set of gates, gleaming with metal and ornate designs. They pause for a moment, and Jungkook watches as the gates swing open effortlessly, granting them access to enter.

Jungkook’s eyes widen even more as they drive in, the long, curved driveway leading them deeper into the estate. The mansion that comes into view is nothing short of breathtaking. It’s grand and set against the backdrop of lush trees, with a modern yet classic architectural style.

The house gleams under the afternoon sunlight, its windows large and open, letting the soft glow of interior lights spill out into the day. As they pass by, Jungkook can’t help but notice the impressive collection of cars parked near the house, each one more expensive than the last.

There’s a black Rolls-Royce Phantom, a gleaming Ferrari 488, a silver Porsche 911 Turbo, and a sleek Aston Martin DB11, all parked in perfect alignment, as if they belong to the same elite circle. The cars shine brightly in the afternoon sun, their polished surfaces reflecting the elegance of the estate.

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open, his mind racing to catch up with the reality unfolding around him. He’s never seen anything like this in his life. "What is this… What is this place?" he breathes out, his voice almost reverent, like he’s stumbled into a world that doesn’t seem real.

Yoongi’s smirk is still there, a knowing glint in his eyes as he pulls the car to a stop, right in front of the grand entrance of the beautiful mansion. He looks over at Jungkook, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. "Welcome to my crib, Kook." he says.

Jungkook's mouth open, words just stuck in the middle of his throat. His mind is still processing everything, the scene outside seeming like a surreal dream. This is all too much to take in.

Yoongi was RICH rich and he didn't have a single clue about it. As they step out of the car, Jungkook notices a man approaching swiftly towards them and by the looks of his attire, it's clear that he's a guard.

Without missing a beat, Yoongi tosses his car keys at him, and the man catches them with practiced ease. "He'll grab your luggage in a bit." Yoongi says casually, already heading towards the mansion's entrance. Jungkook, still processing whatever the hell this is, follows him like a lost child, unable to do anything but take in the overwhelming sight that surrounds him.

The moment they step inside the house, Jungkook's eyes widen, but before he can even begin to appreciate the stunningly opulent interiors like marble floors or the high ceilings or the glistening chandeliers, a shrill voice cuts through the air. "Yoon, you're hereeee!"

Jungkook’s brow furrows as he watches a woman, probably in her 50s, stand right in front of them. She’s dressed in a chic, over-the-top outfit... a silk floral blouse with exaggerated puffed sleeves, tailored trousers, and a lavish pearl necklace that gleams with the faintest hint of arrogance.

Her perfectly styled hair is in a tight updo, and in her arms, she cradles a fluffy kitten, which she’s stroking affectionately, completely oblivious to Jungkook's stunned expression.

Yoongi barely reacts, his face giving away nothing as he responds, "Yes, mom." with a tone that suggests this is nothing out of the ordinary. Without hesitation, he gestures towards Jungkook, who’s still very much amused. “This is Jungkook, a friend from New York.” he introduces calmly.

She steps closer to Jungkook, her eyes widening as she takes in his appearance. "Such a handsome face." she says with a bright smile, fluttering her lashes dramatically. Jungkook feels his ears turn red, but tries to mask it with a polite smile.

"Come, come, why are you still standing by the door?" she continues in a sing-song voice, already turning towards the grand dining hall. "Lunch is just about to be served."

Without waiting for a response, she leads them through the sprawling corridor, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Jungkook follows, still processing the luxury surrounding him.

As they enter the enormous dining room, the sheer size of the table takes his breath away. It looks like something straight out of a royal palace, with intricately carved wood and sparkling silverware laid out meticulously. Seated around the table are five people, two men, a woman, and two little girls. The air feels heavy with formality and expectation.

Yoongi, noticing Jungkook's distracted gaze, gestures towards each person with casual confidence. "That's my dad." he says, pointing to the middle-aged man sitting at the center of the table who gives Jungkook a bright smile, as he nods acknowledging his presence.

"That's my brother, Geumjae." Yoongi continues, nodding towards the younger man seated to the left. Geumjae has the same sharp features as Yoongi, and he cheerfully waves at Jungkook. "Yooo." he says.

Next, Yoongi points at a woman sitting beside him. "That's his wife, Chaeri." he adds, the warmth in his voice making it clear they have a close bond. "And those are his daughters, Minji and Yuna." he finishes, gesturing to the two little girls sitting next to each other as they giggle shyly to themselves.

Jungkook nods politely at everyone, his nerves creeping in as he takes in the situation. Yoongi's family seems very welcoming, but he's still extremely nervous. He’s not used to this kind of environment, and it shows, but he quickly remembers his manners. He straightens up and gives a right-angled bow, a gesture of respect that his mother taught him for situations like this.

"Hello, I’m Jungkook." he says, his voice steady but laced with a slight hint of uncertainty. He smiles warmly at them, hoping his attempt at a formal greeting isn’t too awkward.

Jungkook feels a shift in the atmosphere as Yoongi's father lets out a hearty laugh. "Yahh, no need to be so formal." he chuckles, waving a hand dismissively.

"Come, take a seat before the food gets cold." His voice is warm and inviting, making Jungkook relax a little. Geumjae, his brother, nods in agreement. Jungkook looks at Yoongi, unsure, but Yoongi simply gives him a small shrug and gestures for him to sit.

They both take their seats, followed by Yoongi’s mother, who settles herself gracefully at the table. Jungkook glances around, noticing the opulence of the setting... the gleaming china plates, the glistening silver cutlery, the rich aroma of the food filling the air. He feels a bit out of place but tries to steady himself, taking in the high-end cuisine laid out before him.

Once everyone is served, Jungkook’s mind races for a moment as he looks at the elaborate dishes in front of him. He’s unsure where to begin, not used to this kind of extravagant meal. It’s all so foreign to him, but before he can pick up his chopsticks, Yoongi’s father breaks the silence.

"So, what brings you here, Jungkook?" he asks, his deep voice cutting through the air with curiosity. Jungkook swallows his nerves before answering.

"Oh, I’m... I’m here with my girlfriend for her brother’s wedding." he replies politely, hoping his words don’t come out too awkwardly.

"Wedding, huh?" Yoongi chimes in from beside him, raising an eyebrow. Jungkook simply nods in acknowledgment, hoping the conversation will shift.

"So this is your girlfriend’s hometown?" Geumjae asks, his voice calm but probing.

"Yes." Jungkook confirms with a small smile, relieved to stick with the easy part of the conversation. "But damn, dude, when did you get a girlfriend? The last time I remembered, you were afraid to even approach girls in university." Yoongi teases, a smirk on his lips.

Jungkook freezes for a moment, feeling a flush of discomfort rise in his chest. The comment feels casual, but the atmosphere around him is so formal that it catches him off guard. He glances around the table, noticing that everyone is relaxed and waiting for him to answer, as if this were a normal part of their dinner conversation. He takes a breath and tries to steady himself.

"Well... I wasn’t really afraid to approach them." he says, carefully choosing his words. "I just had other things to focus on." He offers a half smile, hoping to deflect the attention.

Yoongi chuckles, clearly amused, but doesn’t push any further. "What did you say her name was again?" he asks, his tone light.

"Oh... it’s Y/n." Jungkook replies, a smile creeping onto his face as he thinks about you. Just saying your name makes him feel warm inside, and he can’t help but let a soft grin escape.

"Y/n?" Yoongi’s mother repeats, her brows furrowing slightly, as though the name is familiar but somehow surprising. Jungkook tilts his head, not fully understanding the change in her tone.

He nods, confirming with a small smile. "Yes, Kim Y/n. That’s her name."

The sudden shift in the room is palpable. Yoongi’s mother’s eyes widen, and her voice grows louder, almost demanding. "You mean... Kim Y/n?" she repeats, her tone now sharp, causing everyone at the table to freeze. The clinking of silverware stops as if time itself has paused.

Jungkook blinks in confusion. He can feel the weight of their collective gaze on him, a tension that wasn’t there before. "Yes, Kim Y/n. That’s her name." he says, his voice firmer this time, trying to keep his composure. He doesn’t understand why your name is causing such a stir, but he can sense something is off.

"Dude... the Y/n you’re dating is... Kim Y/n?" Yoongi’s voice is incredulous, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He leans back in his chair, almost scoffing in disbelief.

Jungkook’s confusion deepens. He looks at Yoongi, eyebrows furrowed. "Uh... yeah? You know her or something?" he asks, still trying to piece together the odd shift in the conversation.

Geumjae chuckles, clearly intrigued. "Who doesn't?" he replies. Jungkook furrows his brows, still lost. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asks, his voice laced with perplexity.

Before anyone can respond, Yoongi’s mother’s face lights up with a sudden realization. "Wait, wait, wait, so the wedding you're here for... it's... it's Taehyung's, isn’t it? It’s Kim Taehyung’s wedding!" She beams, her expression a mix of surprise and excitement, as if the revelation is the most obvious thing in the world.

Jungkook’s mind races. He’s still trying to connect the dots, but the sheer shock on Yoongi’s mother’s face throws him off balance and he wonders how she knows that information. "How... How do you know that?" he asks, still trying to process everything.

Before anyone can answer, Yoongi shifts in his seat, leaning slightly towards Jungkook, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Dude... do you have any idea.... who your girlfriend is?" Yoongi asks, the question hanging in the air like a bombshell.

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes, not understanding the gravity of the situation. His mind struggles to keep up, but he can't seem to make sense of the turn this conversation has taken. "What?" he asks, still confused. "Why... why are you asking me that?"

Yoongi leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as if he’s just realized something monumental. "Dude... do you know who 'The Kims' are?? You're dating someone from 'The Kims'. That is literally insane." he states, his voice filled with disbelief.

He looks at Jungkook, half-amused, half-shocked, but when he still notices the utter confusion on his friend's face, his expression softens slightly. Yoongi leans in and places both hands on Jungkook's shoulders, trying to help him process the information.

"Dude, 'The Kims' are one of the most influential families in all of Daegu. Hell, in all of Korea." Yoongi’s voice is filled with a mixture of awe as he continues.

"They own so many companies, it’s insane. From massive real estate ventures, luxury hotels, tech firms, and even a few major pharmaceutical companies, they’re basically untouchable. Every major industry you can think of, 'The Kims' have their fingers in it." He leans back again, his hands still on Jungkook's shoulders, clearly enjoying his friend's stunned reaction.

"And Y/n? She’s a part of that family. I don’t even think you understand how big of a deal that is."

Jungkook’s mind is spinning. He sits there, his thoughts racing, but the words don't seem to connect. All he can do is stare at Yoongi, trying to make sense of everything that’s being said.

His head is still reeling from the idea that the woman he’s been seeing... someone he’s grown to care for so deeply... belongs to such a powerful family. He had never imagined that you, with your down-to-earth nature, would be connected to such wealth and influence.

Yoongi, noticing Jungkook’s silence, smirks before continuing, clearly reveling in the shock he’s causing. "If you were shocked just looking at the estate I live in, wait until you see the kind of place Y/n lives in."

His voice lowers slightly, his tone growing more serious, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. "Her family’s mansion? It’s like something out of a movie. It’s not like any place you’ve ever seen before. We're talking private security, a sprawling garden, a real private estate. It's on a whole other level."

Jungkook feels his stomach tighten as he tries to digest what Yoongi’s saying. He can’t even fathom how he didn’t know this before, how he had no clue that something about your life was so different from anything he had known.

The thought of you being part of this world, a world so far removed from his own, leaves him just sitting there, not knowing what to do with this newfound information.

part 2 ->

[retrobutterflies]

Nectar | billie eilish

Billie Eilish x Female!Reader

Summary: You both admit the extent of your feelings between soft teasing and pretty kisses.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Sickening, cotton candy fluff

Part I

A/N: A silly little addendum to Ambrosia.

“You look tired.” 

It took you a moment to acknowledge her words, her voice a low melody, lips brushing the curve of your ear. Your eyes had been blinking slowly, feeling the weight of sleep lulling at you for the past half hour but you were fighting to keep them open, determined not to let yourself fall asleep for fear that you would wake up and realize it had all been some sort of cruel dream. 

“I can stay up,” you replied, swallowing back a yawn that was creeping up your throat. 

Her eyes narrowed at you, scanning around your face. The room was dim, the only light coming from your desk lamp and the moonlight seeping in through the window but her eyes had no trouble admiring the contours of your face.

“Your eyes are drooping,” she said, the corners of her mouth ticking up in amusement as a pout formed on your lips.

“My eyes don’t droop,” you argued, meeting her gaze. 

“No?” Her smirk widened. 

She reached her hand up to smooth her thumb between your eyebrows, dragging over your brow bone and then the other one, melting away the tension that lingered on your face. You hummed, eyes fluttering closed at the affection. She let out a soft chuckle before you felt her lips press softly into the plush of your cheek.

“Come on, at least let’s get ready for bed?” she suggested and you opened your eyes to see hers still analyzing your face, her desire to care for you seeming more and more blatant that you were surprised you hadn’t noticed it before.

With a conceding nod, she shifted you softly off of her, standing up and pulling you up along with her. She went to rummage in your dresser for something to sleep in and you opened your door to peak out into the hallway to see if the bathroom was free. You heard your roommate shout in fear as a scream erupted distantly from the TV and you grimaced at the sudden noise puncturing the bubble of peace you had created in your room.

You turned to see Billie already moving to pull her shirt off and you turned back around quickly, shutting the door.

“You didn’t want to give me a warning?” You huffed, embarrassment seeping into you. You had seen her in a bathing suit before and on those sweltering summer nights where wearing anything more than shorts and a cami was too hot, but for some reason seeing a sliver of her torso now in the soft glow of your bedside lamp was enough to make a ferocious blush arise on your cheeks.

“I can give you a show if you want,” she bit back and you could hear the grin in her voice.

“Billie,” you whined, somewhat breathless, fighting the urge to turn around and glare at her. She let out a laugh.

“Okay, I’m done,” she said. You turned around and felt your heart squeeze.

Black sweatpants that pooled by her ankles and a large dark T-shirt that practically engulfed her whole. They were her clothes that she had left there, kept there for when she usually stayed over, and they stayed in the designated drawer of your dresser that only she was allowed to use. And you felt the soft creep of a blush crawl up your neck at the sight of her and the fact that you really couldn’t believe how blind you had been. 

“What?” she asked, her voice breaking you from your spell and you hoped she couldn’t see how hot your cheeks suddenly felt.

“Nothing,” you said back, a hint too quickly. She was already smirking again, her eyes charged with delight and mirth and a third emotion you couldn’t find the words to describe.

You opened up the top drawer of your dresser to pull out your own clothes but you could feel her heavy gaze on the side of your face. You turned to face her, clothes bunched in your hands, flush rising on your cheeks.

“I need to change,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek as you met her eyes.

She quirked an eyebrow, sly smile pulling at her pink lips.

“Do I have to turn around?” she asked and you felt silly with how bashful you suddenly felt even though barely a few minutes ago you were all over her.

“Yes,” you replied and she scrunched up her nose.

“Why?” She was practically pouting and you were starting to grow worried at how the rest of the night would go if every little thing she did had your insides setting ablaze. “We’ve always changed in front of each other.”

“Because it’s different now,” you said and she couldn’t hold back the playful roll of her eyes.

“Why, because I’m your girlfriend?” she said and you felt the wind get knocked out of your chest for a moment.

Girlfriend? Were you girlfriends now? It hadn’t even crossed your mind that this was the next step. You had just assumed after your month of panic and self-isolation that she would reject you once she finally realized why you had been acting so strange. It hadn’t crossed your mind that she would reciprocate your feelings and then want to turn your friendship into something more. 

“Are you?” you breathed, blinking owlishly at her. She blinked back at you and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Well we just confessed our love for each other . . .” she trailed off, as if suddenly realizing she might’ve jumped the gun. 

“I mean, if you’re not comfortable I totally understand. Sorry, I just, my mind is kinda moving a mile a minute right now,” she let out a sheepish laugh, moving her hand up to rub the side of her face.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “That was fast. I wasn’t even thinking,” her words were quick, mashed together in a mix of embarrassment and panic. 

“We can just, um, see how it goes?” she winced at her own words, looking like she regretted them instantly. Her hand moved over her jaw and she let out a quiet exhale of frustration.

You didn’t mean to be silent for so long or make her squirm but you were taken aback. Billie had been your friend for years. You had watched her date and fall in love and break up and mess around and date again. It was nearly impossible for people around her not to fall in love with her. But you? Billie dating you? Wanting to date you? Wanting to stop dating other people?

“I thought . . .” you struggled to find the words, “you didn’t want a serious relationship anymore?”

She grimaced at your words, her tongue poking the side of her cheek as she stared at you. She nodded and then dropped her head into her hands, groaning as she rubbed her palms into her eyes.

“That’s because you guys kept trying to set me up with people,” she confessed. She pulled her face back up, nose scrunched.

“Oh,” you murmured, eyebrows pulling together, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .” you trailed off.

She looked up at you, meeting your eyes and let out a sigh.

“No, it’s not–You didn’t do anything wrong,” she puffed out her cheeks that were starting to color a soft rose. She let out another sigh.

“It’s just, I didn’t want to date anyone–,” she started, her eyes now holding yours. The light of the moon was shining through the window, illuminating her eyes so they flashed a cold azure. You could feel her unsaid words in the air, your breath stalling in your chest as you waited for her to continue, “except you.”

She had already confessed to loving you when she couldn’t bare to separate her lips from yours but hearing this confession, the depth of her admiration, had your insides swirling.

“You stopped dating . . . because of me?” you asked, wide eyed as you stared at her.

“Yeah,” she let out a sheepish chuckle, “I mean, I tried to get over you. But you kinda . . . messed me up.”

“I messed you up?” you gasped, an airy, incredulous laugh leaving your lips as you blinked at her.

“Dude, I literally–,” she let out another groan, rubbing her face again, “You don’t get it. I’m literally so obsessed with you I couldn’t even pretend to like someone else.”

“You’re kidding,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face as you gaped at her.

“I wish I was,” she huffed.

“No, wait, because what about a couple of weeks ago, at that party on Sinclair? You left with that girl?” you questioned, narrowing your eyes at her.

“What girl?” she cocked her head.

“The one with the long dark hair and she had that cool new Coach bag I’ve been wanting and she was flirting with you all night and you seemed more than happy flirting back and then you left together. I watched you,” you said, moving your arms to cross over your chest. 

She blinked at you. Then she let out a musical laugh.

“Jordan?” she questioned, incredulously. 

“I don’t need to know her name,” you huffed, wrinkling your nose at her. She laughed again, taking a step closer to you. 

“Oh my god, you’re insane,” she muttered, but her lips were pulling into a grin and she seemed pleased at the sudden jealousy radiating off of you.

“Wow, you really know how to compliment a girl,” you snipped back and she laughed again, stepping closer until you could smell the soft swirls of her perfume.

“It’s because you are. You’re so out of touch from reality I’m genuinely shocked,” she said and you gasped at her.

“You are digging yourself a hole,” you grumbled, glaring at her grinning face but she persisted.

“Jordan is a friend who is straight and has a boyfriend,” she emphasized for good measure, “And she was giving me advice about you because you were ignoring me.”

You stared at her, mulling over her words and trying to reel in your jealousy but your mind flashed back to that party and Jordan putting her hand on Billie’s arm as she led them out of the door. 

“But you left with her.”

“No, her boyfriend and some of his friends were hanging outside so we went to get some fresh air. I never left. But when I came back in, you, however, did.”

You winced at her words. You had left shortly after that because the thought of Billie bringing another girl home made you feel so nauseous you thought you were going to puke all over that 2000s Tuscan kitchen.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “I didn’t realize.”

“You were jealous,” she said, almost gleefully, her smirk deepening.

You rolled your eyes, trying to stop the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“Hardly,” you replied, tasting the lie on your tongue. She grinned further.

“You’re practically green,” she said and stepped close enough that you could lightly swat her arm.

“Stop,” you groaned, moving your hands to cover your face. She reached her hands out to wrap them around your wrists, softly tugging them away from your face.

“You look like the Grinch,” she added.

“Billie!”

Before you could protest further, her lips were on yours, soft and warm. Her hands were wrapped around your wrists, tugging them into her chest so she could pull you closer. Your eyes fluttered closed and you let out a dazed breath in between her ardent kisses. Your body relaxed, leaning into her touch, soaking in her affection like a flower to the sun. She smiled against your lips and then she pulled back to admire your flushed face, biting her lower lip as her eyes darted around your face.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she mused, her words soothing her earlier teasing. “But you have no reason to be. I promise.”

You hummed in response, eyes flickering back to her lips before you were leaning in again. She kissed you back eagerly, hands moving from your wrists to wrap around your back, tugging you in closer. Your arms snaked around her neck, leaning your weight into her. Her lips were inebriating, moving against yours in a delicate dance that had your head feeling like TV static. One of your hands burrowed in her hair, silky strands curling around your fingers. She sighed in contentment, her breath fanning over your face, catching your lips quickly again like you would disappear if she wasn’t careful.

Slowly, your kisses softened, each one dragging out longer and longer until you were both catching your breath and she was pressing her forehead against yours.

“I would though,” she said, her voice rasping as she broke the silence, “like you to be my girlfriend. If you want.”

Your cheeks burned like fire and your stomach felt like a butterfly vivarium. You moved your hand up to cup her cheek, pulling away so you could look at her properly. Your eyes flickered between hers, seeing the sincerity and vulnerability reflecting in her glass eyes. 

“I would like that too,” you murmured. She pressed her cheek into your hand before turning her head to touch her lips to your palm.

You stayed like that for a moment, soaking in the fresh feelings, her eyes holding yours before she was leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek, and then another, and then eight more until she was content. And you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face even if you tried.

It took everything in you to separate from her but you could see her eyes now starting to blink sleepily at you and you knew after your emotional evening you were both close to crashing.

You went to the bathroom to change your clothes, hurrying through your night routine. When you returned to the room, she was stretched on your bed, hair dangling off the side as she stared up at the ceiling seemingly lost in thought. Your heart squeezed at the sight. You had missed her making herself comfortable in your room like it was her second home. It had been painful not having her here and pretending like you were okay without her but seeing her there, as if the past month hadn’t happened, made you feel a sense of relief you didn’t realize you needed.

When she noticed you were done, she pulled herself off the bed and took a few steps towards you. She gave you a sleepy smile and pressed another few kisses to your cheek before she slipped by to the bathroom.

You sunk down onto the mattress, slipping under your comforter and resting your head against your pillow. Your eyes strayed to the other side of the bed. Billie had spent many nights there, sleeping next to you. A few times you had woken up closer than you had fallen asleep. And you used to think that your desire to scoot closer to her on the bed, feel some part of her touching you before you slept, was nothing more than your platonic love for her. But now, sifting back through those memories, you knew it had always been different. Everything had been different with her. 

None of your friends were allowed to cuddle up to you like she was. None of them could be as touchy or affectionate as she was. Only she could call you silly pet names or lean her full body weight on to you while watching a movie or have designated closet space in your room. You realized now that you had had feelings for her for so much longer than you let yourself know and now after experiencing her unfiltered affection for you, you couldn’t believe you had waited this long to face it.

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice was soft, breaking you out of your thoughts. She had already turned the lamp off and shut the door and was slipping into the bed next to you. You hadn’t even heard her come in.

“You,” you confessed, feeling little desire to conceal the last bits of your feelings. Tonight had been the night to lay everything out on the table.

“Oh really?” she mused, shuffling close so her face rested on the part of her pillow that was closest to yours.

You turned on your side to face her, tugging the covers up the both of you. She was fresh faced now, her skin rosy from the cold water she always used to wash her skin, plush from your moisturizer that she liked to steel that you started buying two of each time just for her. 

She reached out her hand to brush your hair back from your face, her nails lightly dragging on your skin and into your scalp, leaving a trail of tingles. 

“Just how,” you shuffled a touch closer to her until you could feel her chest touch yours and you could feel the warmth of her breath graze your lips, “I’ve had feelings for you longer than I realized.”

“Yeah?” she hummed, her eyes hooded as she stared at you, her other hand finding yours under the sheets and linking your fingers together. “How long?”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, eyes blinking slowly at her, lulled by her soft touches and sleepy gaze. “But I think a really long time.”

She stared at you for a long moment, silent but continuing to stroke the side of your head. You wanted to know what she was thinking. You could see the thoughts whirring behind her eyes.

“I know when I realized,” she finally said, puncturing the silence. You squeezed her hand.

“When?” you asked.

She smiled at you, so softly you felt yourself turn nearly liquid under her gaze. Her eyes flickered to your lips but she stayed where she was, as if she was resisting the temptation so she could continue.

“Three years ago,” she said, eyes flickering back up to yours, “When we went to that diner at 1am and it was just the two of us. I don’t know what it was but something just clicked that night and I couldn’t see you any differently anymore.”

Her confession hung in the air and you let out a sigh, the words causing your heart to squeeze.

“That long?” you asked, an uncomfortable feeling settling low in your chest.

“Yeah,” she breathed and you wondered for a moment if she was nervous admitting it, like she hadn’t admitted it to anyone before.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize,” you murmured, a frown forming on your face. She moved her hand to swipe away the tension forming between your eyebrows.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she replied, a breathy laugh leaving her lips. “It not hard to fall in love with you.”

“But you had to hide it for this long,” you retorted, unable to stop your frown as you thought about how long she had to go acting like everything was normal when you cracked in a month.

“I wasn’t hiding it very well. I think you’re just unobservant,” she said and you let out a soft laugh at her words. 

Looking back, you realized she was right. As much as she got preferential treatment from you, you got the same from her. You were the only one she let drive her car. Only you were ever allowed to do her makeup or her skincare. Every night out she was always checking in on you and only you, making sure you were feeling well, staying sober enough to always drive you home. And only you were allowed to cross into her personal space, hug her, lay on her, or cuddle up to her in bed.

“I’m really dumb, aren’t I?” you muttered, feeling heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. 

She laughed, her hand moving to cup the back of your neck, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw.

“Yeah,” she affirmed and you tried to glare at her but your lips were ticking up at the sides in a smile. 

You were quiet for another breath, feeling her leg brush up against yours. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” you finally asked the question that had been hanging over your head.

She stared at you, face contemplative as if she wasn’t even sure she knew the answer. Her hand found a loose strand of your hair and she brushed it through her fingers, coiling it around her pointer finger, tugging on it and then letting it loosen. She used to hesitate before she would touch you, like she had to be strategic about showing glimpses of affection, but now she was being open with her fondness, seeming to take any chance she could to touch you or kiss you or stare at you unabashed.

“I’m not sure,” she finally admitted, curling the hair back behind your ear. She let out a soft sigh, letting her thumb graze the softness of your cheek.

“There were times that I wanted to. And times I got really close,” she breathed into the quiet of the room, her voice soft and honeyed and layered with buried emotion.

“But I always got too scared. Or something would get in the way. Or I just found an excuse because . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence but you knew what she was going to say. Because you would’ve rejected her.

Your heart clenched at the thought. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done had she confessed her feelings for you before you realized your own. It might’ve affected your friendship, which would’ve torn you both apart or it might’ve made you confront your feelings much quicker, avoiding this last painful month.

“But I was okay with just staying your friend. I just wanted you in my life somehow,” she confessed, a melancholic smile pulling at her lips.

“Even when I was seeing other people?” She grimaced at the thought but gave a small nod. 

“I mean, I didn’t love it. But I wanted you to be happy. I was gonna take whatever you were willing to give me.”

You felt your eyes start to sting, overwhelmed by the sudden flush of emotions at her words. 

“Are you crying again?” she breathed, surprise woven together with concern. 

“No, just, that was so sweet. I–,” you lost your words, moving to wipe the sudden tears threatening to spill from your lashes.

She let out a melodic laugh, moving her hand to cup the back of your head and pulling you in closer so she could press her lips to your cheek. You tilted your head and she took the hint to press her lips delicately against yours.

Her kiss tasted like mint and you could smell the jasmine moisturizer on her skin. Her hand trailed from your neck down over the curve of your hip until she was tugging you ever closer, urging your leg to drape over her side, her leg fitting seamlessly in between yours. For a fleeting moment when her lips strayed from yours to find the velvet juncture of your neck, you wondered if this was going too quickly, if the awkwardness of the unknown and freshness of your relationship would catch up with you but then her mouth found a sweet spot below your jaw and your head quieted down to a pleasant buzz.

“No more tears tonight,” she murmured against your skin, dragging the edge of her canines over goose bumped skin, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

Her hand pressed into the small of your back to urge you even closer, getting rid of any space left that had lingered between you. You barely had time to feel anxious at these new sensations, her lips tracing your neck like a map.

“I would’ve waited even longer for you so stop worrying about it,” she mumbled, pulling back for a brief moment to gaze at you through half-lidded ocean eyes.

Your heart was so beating rapidly in your chest you wondered if she had felt your pulse against her lips.

“I don’t worry,” you quipped, voice breathy and face hot.

“No?” Her eyebrows quirked and a sly smile tugged at her lips.

“Never,” you replied, swallowing hard as you felt your insides swim and flip at her heavy gaze.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, biting down on her lower lip, her eyes flickering back to yours. “If you say so.”

You would’ve retorted, another teasing comment or sarcastic quip to ease the feeling of anticipation growing in your stomach, but her lips had found yours again and you couldn’t remember much past that.

billie masterlist ✩

[clickbeetle]

for people who have played fangans: which one is your favorite? because truthfully i’ve never been into them, but since i’m making one myself, i would feel better seeing someone else’s.

(also i had a dream that i played one and it was very good. maybe that’s a sign that i’ll enjoy it)

[pathologicalreid]

a love song for lady earth | s.r.

in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral (fem receiving), munch!spencer, a little bit of overstim, d/s dynamics if you spin in circles and then squint, pwp, cumming untouched, fingering, dirty talk, a little praise word count: 2.16k a/n: this one goes out to everyone who's ever gotten shitty head from shitty guys. also to people who like their men a little pathetic.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out higher than you anticipated. The slight panic in your tone sets your boyfriend on high alert, his eyebrows rising in curiosity as he hovers over you.

Spencer pulls himself up until you meet his eyes, concern and lust fusing together to create nothing short of confusion. He studies your expression, investigating your interruption with the kind of delicacy that he always has when approaching intimacy, “Baby,” he starts, “Have you ever received oral sex before?”

Your lips part in surprise, wondering why that’s the conclusion he comes to, “I have,” you respond hesitantly. “I just—” you falter, “You don’t have to.”

His confusion deepens, “I don’t have to what?”

“You don’t have to give me head,” you answer timidly, “Because it’s not— you just don’t have to.”

Languidly, Spencer drags his fingertips up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s not what? Now you have to tell me.”

You groan in frustration, looking up at the ceiling fan while you search for words that won’t set your cheeks ablaze, “I don’t like it, and I know guys don’t like it. So, you just… we can skip that part.”

“Just out of curiosity, what about it don’t you like?” Spencer asks, sitting up fully between your legs, one hand resting on your knee, keeping your legs parted.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “I just don’t get any pleasure out of a guy trying to French with my vagina while I fake moan.”

“Ah,” Spencer breathes, “So, you’ve never received good oral sex before,” he amends his previous question.

Propping yourself up on your hands, you raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “I’m not entirely convinced there is such a thing, and will you please stop calling it oral sex? It sounds so clinical.”

He crawls over to you, putting his face right in front of yours, “Do you trust me?”

You frown, “Of course I do, what does that have to do with any of this?”

“Would you be willing to let me go down on you?” The earnestness in his tone catches you by surprise. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wants to eat you out.

Humming affectionately, you tilt your head at him, “Do you really want to? I always thought guys hated doing it.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows, “Then I guess that demographic doesn’t apply to me.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “You can… We can try,” you offer. Nerves twist in your lower belly as his eyes widen ever so slightly, your eyes fall shut as he leans his head forward, pressing his lips to yours while his hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties.

Your boyfriend’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands continue to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up around your waist and pulling down your underwear to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Spencer pulls away ever so slightly, “You can always tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every partner you’ve had in the past, or maybe Spencer just has a special talent with his mouth—he certainly was good at running it. “Yes,” you say, kissing him again before he moves his head down.

“Thank you,” he mutters, bringing his head back down to where it was before you’d stopped him. Spencer lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. “Pretty girl,” he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Spencer as he set on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where he’s smirking from between your legs. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you, he just looks so pretty.

He hums absentmindedly, “Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he teases.

There could be an air raid siren going off and you’d still be too focused on him to take cover. His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.

A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip bone—everywhere except where you really need him. Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure that’s building up. “Spence,” you breathe.

“Are you enjoying this?” He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.

You nod once, “Are you?” You challenge.

His head drops again, and your breath hitches when he answers, “Immensely.”

Spencer continues but doesn’t move on, studying your anatomy so intently that it only serves to turn you on even more. His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.

He could’ve gotten you to beg, had that been his goal, you would’ve babbled please so incessantly that the word no longer held any meaning, but that wasn’t what Spencer wanted. He wanted you to enjoy receiving pleasure in a way that no man had ever wanted before.

“You’re just so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

Before you had a chance to reply, his mouth was on you again, his tongue deftly slipping between your folds and poking at your entrance. Other than working you up, you didn’t feel any different than you had previously. You give a gentle hum of encouragement—at least he tried, and at least you’d be wet enough for sex.

Spencer curls his tongue, dragging your slick up to your clit, and that’s where he finally got you. His tongue pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath him, your body moving faster than your brain as your hips move away from his mouth, “Shh,” Spencer coos, “It’s okay, baby. I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

Taking a deep shuddering breath, you nod. You open your mouth to form a reply, but the only thing that comes out is a breathy sigh.

Carefully, Spencer moves your legs, placing your thighs on top of his shoulders, giving you one more glance before diving back in, kitten-licking your clit while you try to catch your breath.

“Spence,” you cry, feeling an orgasm that you previously hadn’t thought was possible building in your lower belly. A swarm of nerves and aches of pleasure thrumming through your body like electricity.

He readjusts, lifting his head more so that his lips can wrap around the sensitive nub, his mouth gently suckling on it.

At a loss for what to do with your hand, they find their way down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair as his ministrations drive you closer and closer to an orgasm. Tugging at the soft curls earns a groan from him, the vibrations on your clit causing you to cry out, “Oh my god.”

He drops one of your legs, moving his hand up to grab one of yours before you cum, squeezing his hand as he gently nips at your clit, further encouraging your orgasm.

“I’m— ah, please,” you babble nervously, inhaling sharply as your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as Spencer’s mouth continues working at you, licking softly as your back arches off of the bed, sweat causing the sheets to stick to your skin.

Your thighs are trembling by the time Spencer comes back up, his mouth shining with your arousal as he breathes as heavily as you. His hand cups your sensitive sex when he leans forward, leaning in to kiss your lips.

The taste of yourself on his lips doesn’t even cross your mind as you cup the back of his head and pull his mouth to yours. The tang of your own cunt on your tongue draws a moan from the back of your throat, and you jump when one of Spencer’s fingers gently teases your interest, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your head spin.

“Can I go back?” Spencer asks, looking down at his hand briefly before returning to your eyes for permission.

Your mouth gapes, “You want more?”

He groans in response, “Angel, I’d spend all day between your thighs if you’d let me.”

Your stomach flips, mourning the fact that you had plans in the afternoon, “I might just take you up on that someday.”

Lifting your body from the pillows, Spencer tugs your t-shirt the rest of the way off your body, leaving you fully nude in front of him, “Fuck,” he groans, gently guiding your back to the mattress as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving your fingers clawing at his back.

His head moves lower, nipping and sucking at your collarbones, leaving light marks as he makes his way down to your chest. His lips scatter kisses all along your breasts as he moves down, down, down. Right until he’s right where you want him, and right where he wants to be. “Oh,” you whimper, taking in a shaky breath while he tentatively presses his index finger into your wet hole.

“Poor baby,” Spencer coos at your sensitivity, “You’re doing so well, letting me fuck you with my mouth. All you needed was someone to suck your clit.”

You sigh dazedly in response, every thought in your mind evacuating as his mouth drops to your pussy again, languidly lapping at your cunt while his finger eases into you, “You’re so good at this.”

He hums against you in response, the vibrations causing your body to shudder and your hands to return to their home in his hair. The feeling of his mouth gently sucking on that little bundle of nerves and his finger starting to thrust makes your walls clench.

A strangled moan escapes your mouth when he adds a second finger, his second and third fingers driving into you with a steady rhythm as his tongue flicks your clit in calculated movements. The recognition of your impending orgasm hits you, “’m close,” you breathe, gasping as his movements don’t relent, tears prick at your eyes as you chase that high.

Spencer pushes your legs further apart with his spare hand, keeping your thighs from closing around his head as he moans against your cunt. You pull on his hair, eliciting another groan from him that sends you hurtling into your second orgasm, crying out his name like a prayer as he tapers off his ministrations.

His hand slows first, gently working you through your orgasm as his tongue laps at your clit, gentle movements soothing the hypersensitive spot as you catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks as you smooth out the hair on his head. He pulls away from you, releasing your trembling thighs and letting them fall around him as he tiredly rests his head on your abdomen. “Spence,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, causing him to rest his chin on you, meeting your eyes as he wipes your slick from his mouth.

He hums a response, “My love,” he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of you playing with his hair.

You chew on the inside of your lip nervously, “Do… do you need me?” Your question was tentative, unsure if he wants you to reciprocate.

“Uh,” he says, equally as unsure, “That’s not necessary.”

You raise your eyebrows, “It’s not like I feel inclined to, but I’d like to… to return the favor.”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I mean I’m taken care of. I already…” his voice trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” you breathe, “Oh.” Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, hiding your smile, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Desperately. You were trying desperately not to laugh at the prospect of your boyfriend cumming in his briefs.

He rolls his eyes in response, clearly unbothered. He seems almost proud, and you suppose it’s not often that a man finishes from giving head. “So,” he starts, moving his hand and using his fingertips to draw stars across your bare skin, “Did you enjoy it?”

You huff in response, the answer is obvious, but he just wants the victory of knowing he’s changed your mind. Who are you to refuse him of that? “Immensely,” you answer.

[navybrat817]

Double Shift

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky helps you unwind after you work a double shift.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, slight insecurities, bit of backstory, dirty talk, mild smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @nixakimbo was kind enough to gift me with this GORGEOUS edit and I had to create a new AU. Sorry, lovelies? @tavners , this is for you. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You dropped your bag the moment you walked through the door. Your feet ached despite the comfortable shoes, and your head throbbed with each passing second. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the couch, collapsing into it like it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Working doubles was exhausting, but this? This was something else entirely.

It was a long day in a series of long days, but now you had a chance to relax.

Reaching for the nearby pillow, you inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at your lips. Instead of the usual fresh scent of your couch, you caught the familiar, warm fragrance of your boyfriend’s cologne. He must have spritzed it before leaving for work. It was like leaning into him and your shoulder relaxed more, even though you wished he were really there.

The sound of the door creaking open a few minutes later told you that your wish had been granted.

“Aww. Long day, baby?” Bucky cooed from the doorway, spotting you sprawled out with no intention of moving to greet him. “You know your bag’s on the ground?”

“Mm-hmm.” You rubbed your temples slowly. “You know I worked a double, right? I’m lucky I made it to the couch.”

His soft chuckle reached your ears as he set his keys down and picked up your bag. “I know and I’m sorry. You work really hard.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead once he reached the couch. “I wish you didn't have to.”

You turned your head, the throbbing in your temples easing when your eyes met his. His black tank top fit him perfectly, complementing the tattoos that stretched across his neck and arms. The skulls and flowers, symbols of death and hope, told stories of his past. Stories he didn't have to tell you about, but he did anyway and you were happy to know every detail. As captivating as the ink was, it was his blue eyes that held you. In them, you saw your future, bright and full of love.

“That’s life. And you work hard, too,” you reminded him.

“Yeah. My job is so honorable,” he mumbled, making a mess of his hair as he ran a hand through it. “I’m really making a difference in the world.”

You frowned sympathetically. Bucky was a gifted mechanic, but his family was dealt a bad hand and he did what he had to do to take care of his younger sister. “And you’ll be out of there soon.”

Once he finished paying off Becca's medical bills, he could quit. That day was getting closer and closer. And one day he’d open his own shop, too, a legitimate shop. You wanted to stand beside him when that dream came true. Becca would be so proud.

Both of you wanted the best for Bucky.

He sighed, sinking to his knees and resting his hands on your thighs. You could see the gray peppering his scruff and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your nails through it. The sound of his groan made you smile, so you did it again.

“I just wanna give you the world,” he whispered, turning his head and kissing your palm. “You know that, right?”

“You already do,” you whispered back, his eyes softening. You had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and his love in your heart. It was all you needed. “But you know, I could-”

Bucky put a finger to your lips to stop you. “I know what you're going to say and we’re not selling your dad's car.”

You smiled sadly. Your dad’s car was a classic and could get Bucky the money he needed, but he turned the offer down each time you brought it up. He didn't want you to give up one of the only things you had left of your dad. “I won't say a word tonight.”

But you could try again tomorrow.

“Thank you.” He took your hand and kissed your palm again. “You up for a ride later?”

“I don’t think I’m moving from this spot tonight,” you half smiled. “But we can tomorrow.”

“You don’t wanna go for a ride tonight?” he asked, surprise laced in his voice. You usually jumped at the chance to ride his motorcycle with him.

“Feet and head hurt a little,” you admitted, touching his cheek as concern etched his features. “I’m fine, really. Nothing for you to make a fuss about, but I won't turn you down if you want to dote on me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, slipping your shoes off. You gasped when he began massaging the sole of your right foot, the gentle pressure making your body sink deeper into the couch. By the time he switched to your left foot, you were practically melting. “That better?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, combing your fingers through his dark hair. He always took care of you. “I swear, you have magic hands.”

“Oh, I have more than magic hands,” he winked, your heart skipping a beat. “And you know what’s good for headaches?”

“Bucky…” you smiled. There was a warning in your voice, but you couldn't help the amusement in your eyes.

“Yes, me,” he grinned. “I’m very good at helping with headaches and you know it.”

Your smile widened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so making you come all over my face before I cook you dinner was not what you meant and will not help your headache?” he asked, his voice deep, dripping with desire.

Whatever ache you felt in your body all went straight to your pussy. A deep, throbbing ache that cried out for him to soothe it since he was the cause. “Is making melt on your tongue as my reward for working a double?”

He smirked at your breathy tone. “That’s exactly what it is.” He didn’t need to ask you to lift your hips when he reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them off with your underwear. Your body moved on instinct for him, fluid and in sync. “I can feed you right here and carry you to bed, too.”

“I’m too big and heavy for you to carry me,” you teased. His eyes flashed, and before you could react, he leaned down unexpectedly, sinking his teeth into your thigh. Your mouth fell open from the sting, but it felt good, too. “Hey!” You shrieked.

“You’re not big. You’re not heavy. You’re perfect,” he snarled, brushing his tongue along the teeth marks. You wanted his mark all over you. “I’ll blame that remark on how tired you are right now from work.”

Framing his face to lift his head, you met his lips in a soft kiss, hoping to convey how much it meant to you that he saw you as beautiful. How touched you were that he always put your care and feelings first. As scary as he looked to others, you knew the man inside. The one with a heart full of passion.

“I’m not perfect,” you whispered against his lips, gasping when he nibbled your bottom lip. A second bite for once again downplaying yourself. “But I’m perfect for you.”

“You think so?” he asked quietly.

“I know so,” you said, biting his bottom lip for good measure.

He thought you were too good for him some days, and you were quick to shut that down. A good man wouldn’t have taken care of his sister the way he did, and he wouldn’t love you wholeheartedly if he was less of a good person than you. His current profession didn’t define him, and you refused to let him believe it did.

“I...” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Love...” You shivered when he kissed the other corner. “You.”

A flame lit within your heart. His tender touches and words burned you from the inside out. “I love you, too,” you managed to whisper before his lips covered yours again.

Fresh arousal washed over you when he smiled and kissed down your body. “Now let me show you with my mouth how much I love you,” he simpered, parting your legs to open for him. “Might die if I don’t get my mouth on you and you wouldn’t want that, would you? And we need to get rid of your headache.”

You moaned, also feeling like you’d die if he didn’t touch you. “Do I get your cock, too? It’s a pretty bad headache you need to help me get rid of,” you teased. If your pain actually persisted, he’d make you take something and insist on you resting. And maybe it was selfish to ask for more than one orgasm, but you both knew he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to rock your world.

“Before and after dinner,” he promised, his pupils dialting as he stared between your trembling thighs. “Fuck, I missed you today,” he groaned.

“Missed me or my pussy?” you asked, certain that you were going to soak the cushion beneath you and you didn’t care as long as he got you off. “Because we both missed you.”

He smirked, his hand inching up your thigh. “Of course, you missed me. Who else would make you come as hard as I do?”

Cocky was a good look on him, but you could play a little, too. “Well…” Your coy smile had him raising his eyebrow. “If you really want to know, there’s-” You threw your head back with a cry as Bucky’s head dipped down to taste you, effectively cutting off your teasing.

It wouldn’t take long for you to coat his fingers and tongue with your release. It never did with him. He’d make you taste yourself when he kissed you after so you could fully appreciate the orgasm he gave you. He wouldn’t give you any reprieve when he’d bend you over the couch and sink his cock into your sensitive pussy. Your sounds would be erotic music to his ears, just like his words were music to yours.

“Grind that pussy back against me. Show me how much you crave my cock.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy for me to fuck and fill.”

“Don’t you dare rub your clit. You wanna come? I’ll make you come.”

“Oh, you don’t have to beg for me to come inside you. I’ll give it to you.”

You’d scream his name in ecstasy and pass out in his arms from the best kind of exhaustion. You’d wake up to him kissing your forehead and holding you upright so he could hand feed you a delicious meal. You’d smile when he told you how much he loved you and that he'd be free of the chop shop soon. And you’d tell him you loved him, too, before he fucked you all over again.

It was going to be a good night.

Appreciate you lovelies indulging me like always and hope to share more when I can. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darkbluekies]

Yandere Silas x male reader bodyguard. Relationship:romantic

You and him grew up together in the mafia, Silas fell in love with you but you only saw him as a friend and he ends up falling in love with a girl and this makes you leave the mafia to go abroad with her to live a normal life.

Silas has contacts all over the world and discovers that you are in a country abroad, he kills the girl and kidnaps you

Be mine (you have no fucking choice)

Yandere!mafia oc x male!bodyguard!reader

Summary: after being friends with Silas for years, you decide that it is time to pack it up and leave, much to Silas’s dismay.

Warnings: criminal stuff, throwing up, getting drunk by force, ropes, cage, mentions of sleeping around, violence, alcohol

Word count: 4.3k

You put your gun into your belt and get out of the warehouse. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Silas asks and grabs your arm. 

“I’m going home”, you say. “This mission doesn’t interest me.”

You try to walk, but Silas hurries in front of you, blocking your way. He almost reminds you of the little, stubborn boy he once was when he does that. 

“Wait”, he says. “You never drive well after a mission. You have too much adrenaline. You and I can leave together. I can drive you to my house.”

“No, Silas, I’m going home.”

Silas doesn’t react to you calling him by his first name. But he never has. You are special. Only one other person in his entire organization can call him by his first name without getting a bullet through their eyes — that person being his second in command. You and his second in command have known Silas longer than anyone else. You’d dare call his second in command your friend too, although on a more professional level. 

You’ve known Silas longer than his second in command has, and you’ve known his little brother, Ares … and you’ve known about his jealousy for a very long time. It started when you one day went home with his brother to play video games after shool. Next day when you entered school, his brother had a black eye and Silas had not left your side for the entire day. 

It only got worse from there, but you never did anything. You tried to talk to him, but it seemed like the years made him even more jealous. He dated girls time and time again, but created a big fuss when you showed the slightest interest in anyone — be that boy or girl. You became the third wheel in SIlas’ multiple relationships.

He did admit to his love for you, just a few years ago, but you couldn’t reciprocate his feelings. It would make everything harder. You were basically working for him as his bodyguard and didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him. Losing him as a friend could mean both mental distress … and physical harm. 

“Does this have anything to do with the girl I’m dating?” Silas asks. 

You look baffled. “No? Why would you think that?”

“Because she’s at the house?”

“No, I just want to go home”, you sigh heavily. “Why do I have to explain my every step to you? You’re not my father, come on.”

“Because I’m worried about you.”

“What a great look for you, mister mafia leader. Don't let anyone else see that.” You nod at him to move. “Move out of the way now, I’m tired and I’m hungry. I want to go home and order a fucking pizza.”

“So this has nothing to do with my girlfriend?”

“What's the matter with you? Are you trying to make me jealous or something? I'm not interested in you, you know that.”

You push past him.

A month passes. You have been seriously thinking about leaving the mafia for a long time now, but ever since Silas got himself yet another girlfriend it became clear that you have to leave, if you ever want to get yourself one of your own. As long as you stay with him, he will never let you date anyone — apart from him, of course. 

You’ve decided to move abroad. While packing your bags, you feel tears run down your cheeks. You have known Silas for as long as you can remember. You love to be with him, he is your best friend. Betraying him would mean betraying yourself, and his entire organization. People who betray him gets killed personally by Silas. Neither you or Silas would want that.

However, leaving without anyone noticing would be hard. Silas would know that something was wrong right away and he would use his contacts to find you again. You’d need help with creating false documents … and you knew just the man to help with that. 

You hold the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” a familiar voice asks. 

“Hi, Ares”, you say. 

“How the fuck did you get my number?”

“I did some digging.”

“Holy fuck, Y/N, you need help.”

You chuckle and hear how Ares chuckles in return. 

“What did you want?” he asks. 

“I need some help.” You look around, feeling like you’re being watched, which wouldn't be very far off. “Can we meet up?”

“Sure. Now?”

“If you can.”

“Yeah, I’m not busy.”

You decide to meet up at a café an hour away from your house, hoping that Silas’s associates wouldn’t recognize you here. You couldn’t believe that you would meet Ares again, you haven't seen him since you were teenagers. He looks the same, just a bit more grown up. 

“My brother finally removed the leash around your neck?” Ares chuckles and hugs you. 

“No, not really”, you sigh. “This is why I need your help. I know that you scam tight about everyone. And I need you to help me create false documents, passport … yeah, you name it.”

Ares smirks.

“Little Y/N is going on vacation, I see”, he says. “Where are you going?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you trying to get away from my brother?”

You nod. Ares seems to think for a moment. 

“Go to Spain”, he says. “Silas is banned from there, he won't be able to get you.”

“Ah, I feel so bad about it, though”, you sigh and run your hands through your hair. “He's my best friend. And boss, technically. If I leave, I betray both my best friend and his organization … and then he has the right to kill me.”

“Wait, you're planning to leave the mafia? For real?”

“I don't want to, but I can't live like this. I want to have my own life. I'm a grown man now, the window for opportunities is closing every year.”

“I'll go with you. I'll protect you.”

“You don't have to, Ares. Look at me, I'm capable of taking care of myself.”

You were Silas’s bodyguard, after all. No weak person gets that position. 

“Yes, I know”, Ares says. “But I can help. And you don't have to be lonely.”

“You are an ass too”, you remind him.

“Better than Silas, though.”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

Ares comes with you to Spain. He has given you false documents with new names and nationalities. You sit together at the airport with your phone in your hand. Your stomach is turning.

“I really should tell him”, you sigh nervously. “I don't want to just leave. I have known him for years. I might betray him work wise, but I can't betray him friend wise. I'm going to call him.”

“I don't think you should”, Ares says. “He has been awful to you, why does he deserve your goodbye?”

You groan and hide your head between your knees. Ares brushes his hand through your hair.

“Come on, sweetie, let it go”, Ares encourages you. “Your new life starts soon. Beach, sun and alcohol, all day long.”

You want to tell him that you don't drink, but decide to leave it be. 

“I have to go to the bathroom”, you excuse yourself and stand up to walk away.

But you don't go to the bathroom stalls. You stand by the large windows at the gate and call Silas.

“Hi, Y/N”, he says.”I haven't heard from you in a little while. I was about to go over to your house and drag you over to mine, because I miss you.”

“I have to talk to you about that”, you say,  hesitantly. “I am not at home, and I probably won't be back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm really sorry that I have gone behind your back, but I am actually leaving … going abroad. And it might be permanent.”

“Have you hit your head?”

“I'm really sorry for betraying you, Silas, you’re my best friend … but frankly, you're always stopping me from getting my own family, while you brag about the women you fuck. I need to get away, at least for a while and get to try to find love. It might not be permanent, but I don't know.”

“Where are you going? You know that you can't leave the country without me knowing. The second any of your credit cards, passport or anything along that way is being used, I'm notified.”

“Well I'm not fucking stupid. I have fixed that.”

Silas scoffs out a mocking laugh.“You don't know how to do that.”

“I had help.”

“From who?” He doesn't sound that cocky anymore.

“Ares.”

Silence. 

“Oh, you can't be fucking serious”, Silas says. 

You can't detect what emotion he's feeling. Perhaps everything all at the same time. Maybe it was a wrong decision to call him before your flight, but the guilt would have eaten you up the entire way there.

“I am”, you answer, trying your best not to let your voice shake. 

“You know what kind of asshole he is, Y/N”, Silas tells you. 

“I have done stuff too, I’m no angel either.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I just called to let you know that I am leaving. I didn’t want you to hear that from anyone else, I wanted you to hear it from me personally. This is a goodbye, Silas — at least for now. Thank you.”

“Y/N-”

You hang up and turn off your phone before returning to Ares who’s sipping on a beer by the gate, where you left him.

When you’re allowed to board the plane, you’re already nauseous. What if it wouldn’t work? What if you changed your mind? You already felt bad. Ares puts his hand on your shoulder while you walk through the middle of the plane, trying to find your seat. Ares takes the aisle seat. 

“Thank you for giving me the window seat”, you chuckle. “I feel like a kid all over again.”

“Well, I can’t let random folks touch you, can I?” Ares responds. “I’m a gentleman after all.”

Ares sits with his phone up the entire flight, working. You know all about his dirty business, how he scams people left to right with his false businesses. 

You fall asleep for a while. Your body has been in a tense position the entire day and finally, you were out of reach. He couldn’t create a storm or shoot down a passenger plane, he wasn’t a God or a military flighter. He is nothing more than a man with a bit too much power for his own liking. And hybris. A whole lot of hybris. Ares turns off his phone to look at you. He smiles slightly. For years, he has tried to take you from Silas. You didn’t want him, but Silas was too selfish to let you be put on the market. He wanted you available at all times, for when the timing was right. Ares stopped trying to reach out to you after a while, knowing that it was pointless, thought that if you wanted to get back in touch with him, you would reach out — and you did. Ares lets his eyes wander over you. He has tried to match your physique, but had no chance against the hours you’ve had to spend at the gym to be able to be Silas’s bodyguard. But under all those muscles, you are nothing but a softie, and that’s why Ares wants you … and Silas too, unfortunately. He always has to compete with his brother over toys they both want.

Silas scoffs angrily and runs his hand through his black hair, and yet he can’t stop himself from laughing. It’s absurd! All of it!

“Why are you laughing, boss?” his second in command asks shortly. “This is nothing to be happy about.”

“I fucking know that?” Silas snaps back. “Do you think I enjoy knowing that my Y/N is on a plane with my psycopathic brother going to fuck knows where?”

“There are not a lot of places he could go to, though. Think about it.”

“I can’t fucking think! Y/N is leaving me!”

“Silas, sit down before you faint, ‘kay?”

Silas, oddly enough, listens and sits down on the couch in his study with his hands gripping the fabric beside him. His second in command stands in front of him with his hands on his hips. 

“Listen”, he says. “Ares would fuck with you, right?”

“Right”, Silas responds. 

“Which countries are you banned from?”

“Spain, England, Germany, the Netherlands and Ireland.”

“So, one of those countries.”

“But which?!”

“His favorite. Which one is the warmest?”

“Spain?”

“Bingo.”

Silas’s eyes widens and he breaks out into a shocked smile. Why didn’t he think about this? Ares isn’t smart.

“...how the fuck do I do this?” he realizes. “I can’t just take a plane into Spain without being arrested the second I step off the plane. We will need another way. We could get a boat and sneak in.”

“I’ll see what I can do, boss.”

“Do it quickly, I know my brother and he will take what I want. If he does, I will never forgive myself.”

The reason why Silas has never let you date anyone is because he wants what can only be had one way, your innocence. 

He sighs and walks out of the room where he finds the woman he’s dating standing with her hands together, looking worried. A certain rage takes over him. The sight of her had made you want to leave. He knows very well that it isn’t her fault, but he can’t help but think that it is. Her existence has put you in a position of discomfort, and for that, she has to pay. Silas doesn’t want to look at her, it only makes him nauseous. 

He pulls up his gun from his belt, and without a second thought, he fires off and watches the innocent girl’s limp body hit the floor. But for now, he can’t bring himself to feel bad. 

He has to find you. Ares is only nice as long as you're on his side, if you want to disagree with him, he's going to strip you off everything. You just don't know how horrific Ares could be.

Your first few days in Spain couldn’t be more than idyllic — if it weren’t for the fact that you look over your shoulder wherever you go. You scan the areas for familiar faces of Silas’s gang. 

“Relax, will you?” Ares says and hooks his arm around your shoulders. “Just enjoy the scenery instead.”

“I think I’m going insane”, you mutter. 

“A shot will help with that.”

“I don’t drink, you know that.”

Ares just smiles. You’re on your way back to the house from a restaurant Ares had treated you to. It was obviously a date, but you didn’t know how to tell him that you wanted to take things slow. Ares has never been a patient man … and you aren’t even sure if Ares is the person you want to date currently. Frankly, thanks to Silas, you don’t know what you want to do yet. You’ve only gotten your freedom to do whatever you want a few days ago, and it’s more overwhelming than you expected. 

“Do you want to come to my room?” Ares asks when you get to the front door. “We don’t even have to do anything, we can just watch TV.”

“I start to believe that the only reason you wanted to come with me on this trip was to get me in bed”, you scoff and put the keys in the lock. 

“Not only-”

“Ares, go to the bar and pick up someone there instead.”

“I can’t leave you alone, I told you that I was going on the trip to protect you.”

“And i told you that I didn’t need protection. If you’re horny, go.”

Ares sighs and gives up. “Fine, call me if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m tired.”

Ares nods and gives your back a tap before walking back the way you came from. You unlock the door, going into the house. In the corner of your eye, you can tell that something is moving. Instantly, you go into attack mode, but freezing when you notice who it is that is standing up from the armchair.

“I feel like a dad catching their underage kid sneaking in after a night out”, the second in command says. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you question. 

The second in command jerks his head. “Fucking guess.”

“Did Silas really send you because he can’t enter the country?” you laugh. “That’s so tragic.”

“Laugh all you want, you’re not the one that have been on a small fucking fishing boat for twelve hours straight!” He collects himself and sighs. “I will give you one chance to come with me voluntarily before I beat your head in.”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest. “Try me.”

Silas must have equipped his second in command with things he knew that you wouldn’t be able to combat, because in one way or another, you lose consciousness. 

You wake up in a dark, cold room. At once, you try to move your hands to your eyes to rub them clean from drowsiness, but quickly notice how your hands are tied to something behind you. That’s when you realize that you’re stuck in a cage the size of a garden shed, in — what looks like — a cargo hold. Your hands are tied to one of the cage’s bars behind you. Your head is pounding from the hit his second in command had given you. 

“Look at that, he’s finally waking up”, a familiar voice says. 

“So we don’t need the water?” his second in command asks. 

“Let’s keep it.”

Silas walks into the cage, crouching down in front of you. He takes a hold of your chin, directing your head whichever way he wants. 

“You gave him a bump the size of mount everest”, Silas mutters over his shoulder. 

“He’s a trained fighter”, his second in command replies. “I had to do what I had to do, you know?”

“I guess.”

Silas lets go of your pounding head. You groan softly, feeling out of your own body, while still being trapped inside the cage. You start to cough and Silas grabs the bucket of icy water, holding it to your mouth. At first, you gulp it down … and then realize that it was sea water. You throw it up, right back into the bucket. Silas gives the bucket to his second in command, telling him to throw it out.

“That was fucking disgusting”, you grimace and gag. 

“You kind of deserve it.” He fixes your hair that has started to stick onto your forehead. “Why did you do that to me, Y/N?”

“You didn’t let me have my own life. I was living yours, as a side character.”

“You betrayed me.”

You meet his brown — almost black — eyes and feel your heart sink. You have never seen such sadness in his eyes before. 

“I know”, you say and turn down your gaze. “I felt really bad about it. I know the rules, and I won’t make a fuzz about it, but can I beg of you that it won’t be you who kills me? I don’t want that to be our last memory together.”

Silas seems to be taken aback. 

“I’m not going to kill you”, he says. “In fact, no one is.”

“But I betrayed you-”

“I know, but I can’t kill you.”

“You can’t bend the rules, or else you’ll get a mutiny.”

“Who said that I was letting you off the hook?”

You watch how Silas walks out of the cage, picks something up from the floor, and returns with a bottle in his hands. 

“I know that you are strong”, he says, popping the bottle open, “and violent. So, I’m going to keep you calm for the rest of the journey to Portugal. Open your mouth.”

“What is that?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing the bottle wearily. 

“Vodka.”

You shake your head quickly. “That’s so foul-”

“I did not ask for your opinion.”

He puts the opening of the bottle to your lips and you try to turn your head, but Silas forces you to drink. With one hand, he holds the bottle, and with the other he holds your chin to make sure that you can’t turn away. You have no other choice but to swallow the burning liquid. He doesn’t let you stop until half the bottle are gone. You cough and gag, but can’t throw up. 

“You absolute fu—fucking—”, you cough. 

“Calm down, baby boy, it’s just some vodka”, Silas says nonchalantly and takes a sip. “Good for your heart.”

He puts his hand on your heavily raising chest, trying to calm your breathing and feel your racing heart. The alcohol turns your body heat up and you want nothing more than for that bucket of water to come back. 

“My right hand man will be here to make sure that you’re not sober for a single second”, Silas says and stands up. 

“You can’t fucking leave me like this!” you burst out. 

“Then stop me.”

You fight against the ropes and Silas smirks triumphantly before leaving the cargo hold.

The second in command came in every half an hour to give you new sips. You tried to refuse, but with your hands locked behind your back and head spinning with alcohol, there wasn't much you could to to stop him.

You haven't drank anything since you were a young teenager and the rocking motions of the sea wasn't helping you. You refused to throw up again, refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing you in such a state next time they entered.

You hated alcohol even worse now. Fuck Silas. 

After what felt like hours — in your drunken state it could very well have been days, or minutes — you couldn't take it anymore.

“Silas!” you shout and your tone goes to a whining, slurred melody. “Silas!”

You've never felt so helpless.

Silas enters with his second in command tightly behind him. He enters the cage and crouches down in front of your pathetic form.

“What?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

“Please stop”, you beg and sob, but you're not sure if the tears come from the heart or the alcohol. “Please …I will do what you want …”

Silas grabs the back of your sweaty neck and directs your wet face into his shoulder, letting you cry. You can feel that your hands are freed from the ropes.

Silas picks you up, carrying you up to the decks above water. His second in command holds your head so that you won't smash it against one of the sharp corners. 

Silas tucks you into a bed and leaves you to rest. You can see the shining sun outside the round porthole window as you fall asleep. 

He walks out onto the deck of the fishing boat and smirks.

“What?” his second in command asks.

“I'm not single anymore”, Silas chuckles.

“You won again, congratulations. Will you put Y/N into the basement?”

“He can handle that. But most important thing is that he's coming home where he belongs, and there won't be any more childish outbursts.”

“What happened with your brother, by the way?”

“Who cares? I don't want to meet him anyway, so the less I need to deal with him, the better.”

When the fishing boat reaches Portugal, you are dragged to a car and to the airport. You don't say much. Silas disregard for your hate of alcohol and childish behavior has put you off. If it weren't for the fact that you are hus prisoner now, you wouldn't be his friend anymore.

Silas’s private jet stands ready on an empty field. He holds your arm as he pushes you up the stairs. You rip your arm from his hold.

“I can walk by myself, let me go”, you mutter.

Silas sighs. You sit down in a seat opposite Silas and cross your arms.

“You are glaring at me”, Silas says without glancing up from his phone.

“I'm just trying to determine if you have brain cells”, you spit.

“Aren't you a fun lad?”  

“Where is my phone, by the way?”

“Like sharp objects and weapons should be: far away from you.”

“Oh, I see. You're going to treat me like a child.”

“Y/N, I'm not an idiot. I trained you, I know how dangerous you are with weapons. You are even more violent than I am at times.”

“Obviously with good reasons.”

Silas glances up from his phone. You twitch your eyebrows testingly. You might not have your weapons, but your tongue is still sharp. 

Being in a relationship with Silas might be more interesting than you thought, and Silas sure as hell will realize that you're not going down without a fight.

“Your girlfriend, then?” you question. “What does she think?”

“Frankly, she can't think a lot at the moment”, Silas responds, turns off his phone and luts it on the table between you. 

You get the hint immediately. 

“Killing her was unnecessary”, you say.

“Running away from me was unnecessary too”, Silas adds.

“This is going to be a stable relationship.”

“It will be the second you stop with the childish attitude.”

While keeping eye contact, you push his phone off the table. Silas eye twitches as he bends down to get it.

“You're going into the basement when we get home”, he says.

“Can I hit back? Or are you going to have full control and tie me up again? Is that the only way you can win over me? With me being completely helpless?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up before I let you ride on the airplane wing.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You stare at each other, and you refuse to look away first. You're going to make him regret imprisoning you.

[vivisviolets]

⛓ who is your tribe? 𓆩📓𓆪 𓆩🖤𓆪 how will you meet? ⛓

✮i love how i connected these 3 pics im sooo smart guys

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ -pick the image that gotchu good 👁👁 gotcha eyes~ you know how to do it I know you do- if you feel unclear, take a nice deep breath, connect with spirit/God/your higher self, and ask what messages would serve you in this very moment~ this has been your radio host vi-vi talkin🎙, and I'll catch at your pile~🖋️✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖✮pile 1✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Five of Swords (reversed), Five of Wands (reversed), Ace of Wands, The Hierophant, Page of Cups (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ (slight 18+ cw) Libra/air placemnets, 7th house (Sun/Moon/Rising/Mercury/7h dominant etc), 1 house placements, Aries placements/degrees (Moon/Rising, etc), Nepo baby/“girl(boy/kid)-next-door” vibes, hair extentions, “going blonde”, Legally Blonde, angel numbers 1111, 222, 2424, 1234, channeled songs, Casual - Chappell Roan + How to be a Heartbreaker - MARINA

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Hello my pile 1s!!!!! omg i wanted to jump right in but I feel the need to greet you into this becaussse- omg you are gorgeous- like I am being so fr DO NOT play yourself down I can hear the mind chatter of some of you gearing up at me saying that,-shut that shish down. on the other side of this group,- you already know you were born beautiful, raised beautiful, and have always been your own created beauty, you’re so tapped into that and really you always have- so I want everyone in this pile, to align to that energy rn. 👏R👏N👏. No matter your upbringing, whatever your family told you, your past friend groups, your classmates,- you don’t got to do or be someone else’s anything. you speak for yourselfff- and you always have!! no matter how deep your security periods were, you still radiated- radiance💎 and strength- damn you guys are strong, no matter how “submissive” some of yall feel to be (your vulnerability is divine btw and def a part of your strength)- you are strong af. strong in only a way the wind is (I mean think of how destructive that nature can be yet how soothing its flow is when it is calm) or a polished pillar… I JUST KEEP HEARING IT- YOU GUYS ARE BEAUTIFULLLL. ugh I gotta get into more dets for you- I’m hearing that some of you are blonde (natural/dyed/bleached it dont matter) and damn does it make you look like a star ☆- PLEASEEE YOU’RE A STARRR ♥️- sorry- it looks so good on you the more fair aura because that is definitely the color of your aura in social situations (I’m hearing pale lavender, blue, pink, yellow), I’m hearing you have very calming eyes.. something about the color of your eyes is very “even” in color, or you may know how to keep very even eye contact and that makes the color of your eyes stand out (anyyy eye color- I’m even seeing some of you may have a kind of heterochromia where you may have a dot of brown in your blue iris/other colors apply, etc), some of the people who you’ve kept such level eye contact with during conversation- they think they’d be able to see your eyes in a dark room they stand out so much…

oh my god pile 1 you are a star- moving forward I have to mention, some of you are very proud brunettes- as you fucking should be because oh my jesus that’s hot, your hot, you are a star ★, a superstar- I am not just saying that holy shit. I’m seeing you may stand out in your friend group or who you usually hang out with due to your coloring whatever that may mean (for example cus we’re on the topic of hair- you may be a blonde within a lot of brunettes, or vice versa- you may have brown eyes among a bunch of blue/green eyes, vice versa- you may be only one who tans, has lots of birth marks, wears their hair natural, etc etc),- now I’m hearing I should be giving random styling opinions/boosting- so if you have a y2k grunge aesthetic, or old hollywood glam style you look incredibleeee- don’t you fucking dare bring your body type into this- if you’re an apple body you look like literal heaven in a pair of low rise bedazzled jeans- long straight hair looks so good with your body shape, get wigs if you’ve been thinking about it- get braids if you’ve been wanting them- different color highlights is definitely a good idea (blonde, orange, blue, purple), tighter tops look so good on your body shape (lace up ones or ones with details/graphtics)- a clean sleek white dress would literally ☆shock☆ everyone in a room who knows you/your style (and ppl who don’t know you loll), nude makeup that matches the rest of your undertones, glossy press on nails, one piece of jewelry per type here and there,- some more gn/masc opinions I’m hearing are more shaped clothes, botton downs tucked in high rise straight down jeans/pants (showcase the shape of your shoulders and waist a bit moreee)- I’m hearing if you were to wear a brooch of somekind on your shirt pocket you’d drive someone “wild”-… I MEAN MAYBE THAT’LL JUST BE ME 💞💀- curls look so great on you also, like if you did a larger loose curl somewhere in the front of your hair- gel curls would also look hot on you- star accents of some kind (jewelry, belt charms, keychains, even tattoos),,, you are totally someone’s “pretty boy”/“pretty girl”/“pretty baby”… OH MY GOD THIS IS A RELATIONSHIPS/FRIENDSHIPS PAC WHERE WAS III-

so I was getting into it even in the energy check-in some of you may be coming from a place of past drama- yes I said past bc even if it's fresh it will be past, and in that it is already the past babe. so anyway- there is something.. romantic here- possibly, but really I’m hearing you are in admiration by a lot of eyes-… now I’m hearing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid lol BAHHA oooohh~ you think your life is really mundane and so you’re hearing me say you have eyeballs on you like “… I leave my house once a week”- …bitch- your envioment means nothinggg and can change when you want it to fr. no matter your place this is your natural energy- I’m hearing your natural energy is being a socialite- and I mean you are meant to shine like a glittery star in various rooms- WITH YOUR GAL PALS!! this can even apply for going into a business/professional environment where you speak and interact with a lot of people and you are at the center of that- But anyway take it where it may apply. for some of you- you may do amazing in more queer centered places (clubs, awareness groups, or even drag shows in your area), places with a lot of creativity in relation to fashion (maybe even theater?) and makeup- for others here you should get out more in your school/college (gardening clubs or outdoor volunteer work would definitely benefit you), even if it’s just walking around your enviroment- wherever you walk you own, and you make yourself known…

I’m seriously feeling that so hard- AND SOME OF YOU DARE TO TURN A BLIND EYE TO YOUR OWN INNER SHINE. it's seriously beginning to bug me how you’re still staying in this insecure, bitter, fearful, energy, that is not yours but you continue to claim it!!! WTF. anyways, to those of you resonating with that- I’m being sooo fr, as soon as you kick those feelings to the curb (to be run over and killed 💅) and you fully allow yourself to bloom and allow the sun to shine on you- there will be buzzing. BUZZINGGGG🐝. put yourself out there and seriously just experiment with what it feels like to be with different social groups, don’t take it personally, expect nothing, just do it for your own self experimentation~ doesn’t that sound fun??? I'm getting the tingles just thinking about it~again with those spaces I talked about, no matter your feelings- wherever you walk you own. you belong because you know you belong in yourself. that’s your natural state and no matter how vicious some people were in seeing that in you, you still own that about you ☆ and it is your choice to use that divine gift given to you. please trust and believe when I say that once you step into that inner, pure, state of being- you will be divinely protected, any ◉ attacks are small potatoes and will be diced.

ANYWAYS WOOO- ummm all those spaces that I mentioned are fully open to you, and are definitely where you’ll meet your tribe- again, I’m seeing your “tribe” will more so be you being you and coming in and receiving a lot of admiration- people will just love to talk to you as soon as you come in (I’m seeing especially for the queer/fashion/creative group people coming up to you with armfuls of clothing joyfully wanting your opinion I loveee this for you)- I’m speaking about the future mainly to my more underdeveloped group of this pile, but let me jump into the future which is the place some of you are very much stepping into rn!!!- you’re having people crossing their legs in club booths to fit more people into your get to together- BAHHA- people want to be close to you, catch up, ask where you’ve been traveling to or what you’re wearing- and you’re finally soaking it all up and sitting so relaxed, your smile is dazzling and you’re taking a nice breath in and out as all of this healthily regulates your ego + your higher self.. this is honestly giving that if you weren’t the “queen bee” in your high school- you are now but in your 20s/30s/40s/etc!! and you’re handling it amazingly well, because you still choose to go home solo most nights still high and happy ♡ I love this for you. you also get asked to be the leader or placed as the head of a lot of different projects- it’s more so you oversee them and everyone works around you- the thing is, that you don’t let all this go to your head because you’ve already grounded your self-worth- and because of that attitude, people then want you around even more. when you come in, people want you in your group for the day/hour/20 minutes before another group wants you lol.

you’re fabulous ok? it’s more than fine to be that, it’s divine ♡! soo many people are going to feel like the moth to your flame, it’s already been destined to happen literally😵💫!!!! just keep a watch out for the ones taking too much from you or being up and down with their give-and-take from you, because you deserve someone/people around you who stay hot for you and fan your bright flame while enjoying its warmth (unless they need their own personal space- ppl are ppl, not npcs lol)… I guess I should just briefly state before I finish your reading- the chorus of Casual by Chappell Roan was replaying through your whole reading- I’m not saying this as a cop-out, you have people stopping and, in fact, falling to their knees when they’re in your energy. I see one or two people who are already a part of your larger group environment being very infatuated with you (and I’d definitely keep your eye on them and remain open to this possibility- for some of you this special someone is in your group setting is so pure in their affection towards you and could,, be the one. I'm dead serious about that- but also HEHHEHHEHE💞- oh how I love-love♡),- but I’m mainly seeing a lot of first dates for you guys as you continue to get out there, and that is far from a bad thing because- who wouldn’t want a change at even just one date with you??? (take rejection as non-personal ofc- ppl have free will- and stupidity) and also you get the chance to see how you adapt and interact with new people which is terrific for you!! mannn do I see you getting accepted and taken out by so many people, assholes included but also a lot of “gentlemen”/“babes” who will gladly treat you extremely well and or will be pulling all the charm and fun within them for you- even if they know it’s just one night with you… I’ll just say, you do attract people who want to serve you… on their knees definitely-

AND THAT IS WHERE I WILL LEAVE ITTTTT FOR NOWWW- I’m so so soooo happy to have had you all here todayyyy your life is seriously going to keep going up-up and away if you’ll just allow yourself to see that steady climb and trust it <3 I seriously love youuuu I almost don’t want you to leaveee just like how everyone else feels BAHHA- love you.~

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out is it casual now- two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in Long Beach is it casual now” - “it’s hard being casual when i’m on the phone talking down your sister”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ "This is how to be a heartbreaker- boys they like a little danger" - "singing I lo-lo-love you"

⋆ ˖✮pile 2✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Ten of Pentacles (reversed), Ace of Pentacles, Nine of Cups, Queen of Cups, Six of Swords (reversed) (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Aquarius/Gemini/Libra placements, Capricorn/earth placements, Mercury dominant, Saturn dominant, 2nd house placements black lace, black on black, cinnamon, The Spice Girls, The Cheeta Girls, H2O, 2000s nostalgia, high school reunions, ex-friendship rebirth, stand up, saturday night bars, life path number 11, angel numbers 1111, 1212, 1313, 1221, channeled songs, Party for One - Carly Rae Jepsen, Heat Waves - Glass Animals

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ You guys are funny- just gonna say it off the bat I’m feeling silly with you rn ngl BAHHAHHAhehe- ok um HI PILE 2S!! I shouldn’t yell- let me not yell- some of you are coming from pile 1,, heyyy pile 1s~ ouw~ ok ok, you smiling could light up a room, a house, a complex, a broken oven. AHAHAH- what beautiful teeth and lips you have there- pile 2s. I’m seeing, so many different teeth and lip shapes before you come for me- straight, crooked, vener-white, “needs-a-cleaning” off-white, upside down smiles, nonsymmetrical dimples, big lips, small lips, uneven lips, scarred lips- you get it, I don’t give a shit. when you smile and give that big cackle, chuckle, chortle- you do what you do with joy- and people believe in jesus. people believe that pigs really do have wings. people believe that the sun must shine from your ass. truly. I mean truly. I’m sitting here with my fingers together like- hm. yes. how do I write this all- with a straight face without being sardonic… sardonic? do you guys read? I think you read. now I’m hearing “you thought you ate that-“ that meme, I know that you know it- let me stop. for-… 5 minutes… so we would probably connect really well- which is why I am all over the place, because you are also all over the place (yes I am shading you. respectfully.) someone here does really good impressions, including animals… whatever that means…- BAHAH, you guys would do great in stand up of some kind, either that or you’re known as the funny co-worker. you guys have this range when it comes to your sense of humor, where it is either very dry, with the most composed pauses (when I manage to do that without bursting into your own laughter), and or you guys are so fast like- the editing of a youtube video fast with the jokes- and or a mixture of the two where you’re able to pull off very intricate jokes very quickly in the moment. and jeeze people find you so charming, even more so because of the way you look as well, it’s almost weirdly uncanny to some people how someone with the level of physical attractiveness that you carry (it’s so heavy and so much I know it’s so hard✨) and you then can pull off such- hilarity. and they're like- “…do they know they could be a model??? like- are they aware?? are they using this comedy because they don’t see that about themselves??”… it’s giving “i didn’t know women could be funny” (goes for nb/men too ofc)…

wow- kill them with a spoon 🥄- anyways WOW. so I think you may have, a lot of perceptions of you by people around you who haven’t known you for very long, mainly revolving around your looks- yes your looks. your modesty is attractive but it won’t fly in this courtroom👩‍⚖️- you are attractive in some way, or have an appearance that people definitely admire- but also scrutinize, or underestimate… you definitely get belittled. ok- that sucks- point them out to me?… yea I thought so they are so ew. I don’t care if that person is your mother, your father, or your co-workers who’ve been working at the place for 5 years longer than you- they are ew. anyone who puts you down due to their own pre-made perception of you is ew. ick even. yea, I’m seeing the issue here is not like most other piles I read for where it’s a growth journey with self and insecurity- no you’re good rn you’re like totally chilling. and I love that because I’m chill now, I’m dipping my tea bag up and down and sitting with you I’m so chill. but I had to look into anything going on because- drama, keeps you reading. so main issue I’m exposing is that there are people around you, in your space, a space you “have” to be in like work or even college classes I’m hearing- most people around you mind their own business, good on them, I love them- other people… they dress you up as something in their mind for their own- amusement?? or to feel a sense of having an eagle eye over “you”- and I say “you” in quotations because wtf- they do this… so as to spice up their own boring life? this is a weird form of admiration, because even if it’s a shitty thing to see you as, with them placing you so strongly in this box- they’ve placed you also on this pedestal… that’s probably why even with this obvious bullshit you’re still just chilling- because you know that if someone has built this all up to be who you are- it means you’re the best. and they’re the lowest. the end. anyway my back hurts- someone here likes podcasts, I’m seeing the The Broski Report podcast (broski nation✊) and also Murder, Mystery, & Makeup- again you guys really just chill, drink a bit of wine and entertain yourself.- so let me move onnn and see what transformations might be gearing up in your social life hun~

ok so it’s not “crickets” happening in your social life, not at all- but again you guys are just so, content and used to yourselves (this is my pile who talks to themselves in the mirror I see you)- when I asked yall if you felt lonely I literally drew a blank. and this is actually perfect because it’s seriously when you’re not looking/expecting and you're all good with what you have that you get given so much- so this is where I’m going to remind you all to actively meditate on keeping yourself open. don’t expect anything, just stay open and ponder what you’d like- and you’ll receive. that’s literally it. you’re in prime manifesting energy with how content and at peace you are in yourself- do you know how much you attract when you do that shit???? remain. open. and. aware. of anything that may happen, even if someone trips in front of you and you gain a brief interaction or someone asks you where to find extra office supplies and you show them the supply closet- see your abundance, allow it, remain without expectations. you are literally in the perfect energy for so much. You guys are definitely the type however to be really fine with only a few close friends you can have some fun with (and or have a nervous breakdown with) and some family… but I think this contentment you have with yourself, might have come from you feeling- misunderstood in your sense of humor or self-expression. I gotta say, you definitely handled that disappointment well, since instead of dulling yourself you just shine more inwardly for your own enjoyment and entertainment- and that’s wonderful! but I do gotta say- I know you can feel a bit, pent up. due to a lot of your big personality being fitted within you, and that’s fantastic truly- but also it has the same effect of being stuck in your house alone for one week too long. maybe that’s why you read when you can- you get to be in a very expansive and wide world that feels different from your own… oh god did I make you yearn???? oops I’m sorry. anyways!!

you’d really thrive in some environment that feels more- “widespread” I suppose, that doesn’t mean cracking yourself open to a room of strangers, I mean just sharing yourself- still from a place of your own entertainment- what I mean is that it’d be really healthy for you to find an outlet for the pent up jitters you get- find it online if you want to try that, try little baby steps, why not?- go on one-time dates just to release a bit of what you keep inside you- interact with random people sitting next to you at bars,- no attachments, just feel out what you feel when you let your inward personality, be more outward- on a lease ��. I’m hearing some of you may be a little fearful of attachment even, work that out- that doesn’t mean you’ll then sacrifice your peace, you’ll just gain a wider world for yourself by gaining new connections- and obviously, with the personality and personhood that you have- you can totally just pick and choose who gets to be a part of that world and your time! you owe nothing to anyone. do you have any actual clue how many people are out there, whose perception of you is not just what they observe, but what you actually are? and their perception of you actually helps you and is used to contribute to your happiness and peace??? yea. having actual friends is freaking great. and the more you simply open yourself up to that- while staying aware and choosing who you want- that is going to be the big door that’ll be opened to you- you’ll receive so many amazing experiences and will shift and broaden your world and the worlds of others, you’ll be like a big tree, growing it’s roots around other trees- isn’t that soooo cute??? ok I’m trying to see into the future details in regards to you finding your “tribe”- spirit is honestly wanting things to be vague, so as you can remain open without any expectations. kk? I mean what I mentioned with the earlier situations gives you the clues to follow if you so choose- just be youuuu. you have more opportunities than you realize and you got all the answers to what to do within you. trust me when I say you’ll be running down the street in weird clothes and pearls, scream laughing out of breath with two girls who love you… that’s for someone here and it also applies to everyone here~

okkk pile 2s, it was stimulating being with you I’m nearly sick❤️ BAHAH anyways, in regards to any avoidant/anxious-avoidant attachment issues, just remember that heartbreak sucks, but heartbreak always just makes you hotter, and funnier. you prove that- that outcome is very real every day you exist as yourself… OKKK love you byeee❤️♡

deadass as I channeled this song, I was questioning if it was correct- and I look up to see one of your angel numbers 1212 on the clock- and then again 1221 as I type this lolll

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Once upon a time I thought you wanted me was there no one else to kiss- was it all a dream I let myself believe, I’m not over this, but I’m trying” - “party for one, if you don’t care about me, I’ll just dance with myself, back on my beat- I’ll be the one, if you don’t care about me, making love to myself, back on my beat”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Sometimes all I think about is you- late nights in the middle of June, heat waves been fakin’ me out, can’t make you happier now”

⋆ ˖✮pile 3✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Page of Swords (reversed), Seven of Cups, Six of Cups (reversed), The High Priestess (reversed), The Moon (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Cancer/Pisces/Scorpio placements, Libra/air placements, Leo/fire Placements, 5th house placements (Venus, Mars, Jupitar, Rising, etc), inner child, old friendships, childhood renewal, 1111, 333, 444, Only Yesterday (1991), horses, channeled songs, Wildflowers and Wild Horses - Lainey Wilson, Cheap Queen - King Princess

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Ok- Hi my pile 3s! and also my pile 2s because some of yall did not leave yet and have stayed for the next reading- like seriously this whole pac is connected rn- also happy 1111 as I write this!!! um oh my gosh let me start- you are so beautiful, yes I said it for the 3rd time in this pac post why are you on my ass‼️- its so true, you all have this classic beauty, it is timeless- you are timeless- or from a different time in your aura, your beauty, how you carry yourself in this world- etc etc… and when I say “different time” I don’t just mean you embody this feminine/masculine balance straight out of the 1970s, 40s, 50s, 20s,- and all the other time periods before/after I just mentioned- I also mean you still carry with you the time you had as a young child, you carry with you the sunshine you felt on your skin when you were 3-6 yo, and the snow you felt on your hands when you were 8-11… you have kept this purity and innocence and grown with it- and holy cow do I need to congratulate you and the strength of your spirit- so often we are forced to “leave behind” our childhood years and perspective due to difficult events or what people expect of you while you reside in this worldly- world. -which really that just means internalizing and hiding away in the closet the purest state of yourself (*also this is my more queer-centric pile so hellooo my fellow queer community ✨☀️)- this is putting a hole in my own heart being in how free and high spirited you are, and how you fully embody that and always have ☀️. you have kept that warmed and soaked up the same sunshine as you did all those years ago- it might not even feel like years to you, it feels like only yesterday your childhood was your state of being and all around you- and now, you are a bit bigger but you may live in this state that no time has passed- does that make sense?? ugh dude I hope so, your energy is like the sunshine, in that, I can’t reach out and physically be in your presence- but more so I’m trying to sit in your light while my vision gets spotty and I get a little dizzy… as in- you guys are out of this worlddd💫!!! you might even be told by your family or your peers that you tend to make them “dizzy” with how you communicate- you may be the type to jump from one topic to another, while you fold your laundry- and tidy your desk drawers- and walk into another room *backward* because you are still talking and describing a detail that is “important” to the story you were recounting 10 minutes ago- you sweet thing!!!! this is adorable to be in,, if anyone’s ever made you feel bad about how you communicate, do not take it personally- its always good karma to be considerate of other’s sensitivities, but everything you do is so pure hearted- it would be so phony and ridiculous to believe any crap people say about you to be truthful. your energy is so pure and truly yours, this is your sign and confirmation to continue to not live for the external views of others and live life through your own view ☀️. Oh- i keep getting horse imagery- horses may be significant for some of you, it may be your spirit animal or a spirit guide that is close to you may take the energetic appearance of a horse (in particular for some of you it’s a very strong and matured brown colored horse of some breed), or some of you grew up around horses in some way!

Oh this is random but you may be the type to enjoy having your playlists on shuffle lol- because I just suddenly began mentally playing Cheap Queen by King Princess- so this is definitely where I will now channel the dets about your social environment my dear~!! ok sooo- I’m seeing various different types of family dymanics, big families, med sized families, even 2 person families (you + a guardian)- I sense that you have close family ties, and i know family can be complex, so let me state some variouions of what that means- you may have a close familiarity to your family’s home or yard (maybe even your neighborhood area), such as knowing every little creak that your house makes when you go to the kitchen to get a morning cup of water, I’m seeing for some of you- you are very tied to your sibling dymamic if you have siblings (I accidently wrote in all caps at first and I scared myself lol- so you may come from a family where loudness is common part of the jokes you share), or maybe even kids you knew in your neighborhood if you played with them often- things like that have stuck with you inrelation to what you look for in anykind of companionship, a sense of familiarity~ this is def the pile who believes in being drawn to your soulmate(s) or past life connections lol~ so while you have that grounded energy in wanting stablity, you also are an entertainer and you know how to have a good time!! as you should since you totally fly like a fabulous canary from room to room- you should feel more confident when you dance btw, put more energy into your shoulders with joy because the way you move literally energizes people-

now I’m getting messages on how you connect to your inner child, I’ve said before you already naturally embody your inner child (“just in a bigger body” I’m hearing- some of you may have had a big physical growth spirut as a child btw), but some messages in regards to connecting to your inner child for those of you who need some answers is to engage in more activities that return yourself to a past peaceful enviroment, this is also for those who had a more chaotic upbringing and had to turn inwardly for peace ❤️- taste is a really important sense for you returning to that younger state of peace, so certain candies (I’m hearing those fruit rollups I love those still) or fruits, snacks- simple dishes that made younger you excited and brought you joy- also I’m hearing something about sleepovers and evening activities/coziness~ so grab some blankets and make an event of staying up late if you already do that lol- anyways!! let me get back to how fun you truly are to be around my dear, I mean, seriously! If you have the opportunity go out when you can, if you already have a friend or someone familiar go to a house party nearby (keep yourselves safe!), try rollerskating if you haven’t, and get closer to someone you already know and show your colors- DRESS UP!!!! I know life can be bleak especially when you feel that life is very "closed off" and dead lol- but when I tell you the phrase “dress for the life you want”- I mean ittt~ it will align you with the environment that you desire and it will come to you so naturally (in the same way you making a coffee and taking your dog for a walk is a natural occurrence in your life!)- I’m hearing that the connections that you already have in your life are “all you need”, and by that I mean you can build off of those and shoot farther into the sky full of stars meant for you 💫. I’m hearing the quote about drawing back your arrow before you can shoot forward- if you’re feeling stuck right now, this is what I’m trying to tell you, blossom exactly where you are right now, and everything else will simply follow!!! and I know that takes courage but I KNOW you have it because it was child you’s courage that got you to this future you are currently in~ and when you start to embody their courage along with their light, I know it will be the turning point to creating the life you were always dreaming and painting in your mind~ I’m seeing bright neon lights, holding hands and toothy-laughing grins, your clothes looking exactly how you pictured months ago- this is what I see happening in the future!! please stay open to some of the connections you already have- renew them is what I’m hearing (but please follow your intuition, if you need to cut everyone except for one or two true connections then that is the right thing for you to do)- if these are people who you knew when you were a lot younger then bond on the older times and use that energy to renew into more new memories,- these older connections you have you could definitely collaborate with to mutually make new connections and go towards new experiences- I’m hearing maybe even to “get out of this town”... phew pile 3!!!! what a way to end this pac, so happy to have met you and I feel like I took a nap in the sun- I’m really on some hazy ish rn lolll but I really hope I was helpful in any questions or worries on your beautiful mind~ I LOVE YOUUU so much, you better keep on shining- even if that’s just in front of your mirror, that’s perfect and valid ☀️👏

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “I'm five generations of blazin' a trail- through barb-wired valleys and overgrown dells- I'm barefoot and bareback and born tough as nails” - “I push like a daisy through old sidewalk cracks” - “yeah, my kinda crazy's still runnin' its courses with wildflowers and wild horses”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “I've been alright, I’ve just been doing the same shit I've always liked- like smoking and movies and homies who bring me wine” - “-all of my girls get up early and stay out late- they drive all the way to the west side to see my face- that's good love- and I ain't no big baller when it's fake friends you're callin’”

⋆ ˖

✮

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️am I actually going to (*schedule to*) post this omg it feels like forever since i did this.. where was i even? whatever- its whatever- holy shit I'm putting myself out there!!!! praise be!!!! omg I'm going to get one extra hour of sleep as a treat🍰

love, vi~♡

[alyrasturnz]

I need a angsty fan fic of matt with his gf that are in an argument and he raises his hand to maybe move hair out of his face but she fliches and he imedeately becomes worried that she though he would hit her but she just had trauma from her childhood and when she tries to explain she just breaks down or has a panick attack(maybe even flashback) and then a fluffy ending.

SHADOWS OF THE PAST

❐ summary » in the midst of a heated argument, a seemingly insignificant gesture from matt triggers a dramatic and heart-wrenching resurgence of y/n’s deeply buried childhood trauma, unraveling layers of pain and vulnerability that had long been hidden beneath her stoic exterior.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x reader

❐ warnings » arguing, abuse, daddy issues

❐ a/n && w/c » this is not for the weak. (weak = people with daddy issues) •  3.86k

in the dimly lit living room, shadows weave intricate patterns on the walls, casting an almost ethereal glow. you and matt stand facing each other, suspended in a moment thick with unspoken words and a tapestry of lingering emotions. the air itself seems to pulse with the weight of past memories and the silent exchange of unresolved feelings, creating an atmosphere that is both tense and poignant.

the flickering light from a lone candle dances across your faces, illuminating the raw vulnerability etched in your expressions. every breath, every slight movement, seems to carry the echoes of a thousand unsaid things, each one more profound than the last.

the room, once a sanctuary of shared laughter and dreams, now feels like a stage set for a poignant confrontation, where the ghosts of your past linger, watching and waiting for the resolution that may never come.

your voice quivers with a blend of frustration and sorrow as you speak, “you never listen to me, matt! it’s like you’re always somewhere else, lost in your own world.” your hands clench and unclench at your sides, a physical manifestation of the emotional storm brewing within you. your eyes search his face desperately, seeking a glimmer of understanding, but finding only the familiar, distant gaze.

matt’s eyes flash with frustration, his brows knitting together as he retorts, “that’s not fair, y/n! i’m trying my best, but you act like i’m not even here.” his hands gesture wildly, as if trying to grasp the elusive understanding that seems to slip through his fingers. his voice, tinged with a mix of anger and desperation, echoes in the room, amplifying the emotional chasm growing between you.

you cross your arms, a mix of hurt and anger flickering in your eyes. “trying your best? you barely even talk to me anymore. it’s like we’re strangers living under the same roof.” your voice trembles with the weight of unspoken pain, each word a sharp reminder of the emotional distance that has grown between you.

your shoulders tense, as if bracing against an invisible storm, while your gaze pierces through the thick fog of misunderstanding and neglect. the room around you seems to shrink, the walls closing in with the oppressive silence that follows your words, amplifying the chasm that has formed between your hearts.

matt takes a deep breath, his voice softer but filled with a quiet intensity. "do you think it's easy for me? i've been dealing with so much, and sometimes... sometimes i just need space." his words, though gentle, carry the weight of countless sleepless nights and unspoken fears.

his eyes, clouded with a mix of vulnerability and frustration, search for a glimmer of understanding. the room seems to hold its breath, the silence between you thickening as his confession hangs in the air, a fragile thread connecting the raw edges of your shared pain.

the room falls silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. matt steps closer, his expression softening. "i don't want to lose you, y/n. but we need to find a way to understand each other, to bridge this gap." his voice trembles slightly, a testament to the depth of his emotions.

the silence that envelops you both is thick, almost tangible, as if the very air is holding its breath. his eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and hope, search yours for a sign of reconciliation. the room, once a mere backdrop to your lives, now feels like a sacred space where every word, every gesture, carries the potential to heal or deepen the rift between you.

you look down, your voice barely above a whisper. "i just want to feel like i matter to you, like we're in this together." your words, fragile and laced with longing, hang in the air like a delicate thread, vulnerable to the slightest breeze. your gaze, fixed on the floor, reflects the weight of unspoken fears and desires.

the room around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you suspended in a moment of raw honesty. each syllable you utter is a plea, a quiet cry for connection, echoing through the silence that has settled between your hearts.

matt's frustration boils over, his voice rising. "it's not always about you, y/n! i have my own battles, my own demons. why can't you see that?" his words erupt like a storm, each one charged with the pent-up anguish of his inner struggles.

his eyes flash with a mix of anger and desperation, as if pleading for recognition of the silent wars he fights daily. the intensity of his outburst reverberates through the room, shaking the fragile equilibrium of your relationship. his voice, though loud, carries an undertone of vulnerability, revealing the deep scars etched into his soul by unseen adversaries.

your face hardens, hurt turning into anger. "i do see that, matt. but you shut me out. how am i supposed to help you if you won't let me in?" your voice, though laced with frustration, trembles with the weight of unspoken pain. each word is a carefully controlled explosion, a testament to the emotional battleground within you.

your eyes, once filled with empathy, now blaze with a mixture of sorrow and defiance, reflecting the depth of your yearning to be a part of his world. the air between you crackles with unresolved tension, each breath a struggle to bridge the chasm that his silence has carved into your shared existence.

matt lets out a heavy sigh, "you're so... insufferable!" he yells in anger, causing you to slightly flinch. his voice, raw and edged with exasperation, slices through the air like a blade. the intensity of his outburst reverberates within the confines of the room, each syllable a testament to the turbulent storm brewing within him.

your slight flinch, almost imperceptible, betrays the inner turmoil his words have ignited. the space between you seems to shrink and expand simultaneously, charged with the electric tension of unresolved emotions and unspoken grievances.

but then he angrily brings his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it with full force. his movements are sharp and deliberate, each strand of hair caught in the fervent grip of his frustration.

the act, though seemingly mundane, is laden with the weight of his inner turmoil, a physical manifestation of the chaos that rages within him. the tension in his muscles is palpable, the rigidity of his posture a stark contrast to the vulnerability that lies beneath his anger. the room seems to hold its breath, the atmosphere thick with the unspoken complexities of his emotions.

your mind morphs his face into your dad's face. every shape and every little contour morphing into his features. his eyes, once familiar, now carry the weight of past memories, each line and shadow a haunting echo of your father's visage.

the transformation is both surreal and unsettling, as if the ghosts of your past have come to life in the present moment. the contours of his face blur and shift, melding into the well-worn patterns of your father's expressions, each one a reminder of old wounds and unresolved emotions.

the room around you fades, leaving only the stark reality of this uncanny resemblance, a poignant reminder of the intricate tapestry of your emotional landscape.

the crease of his eyebrows, the wrinkles on his forehead, and the fury in his eyes, everything. each detail, from the furrowed brows to the deep lines etched into his skin, speaks volumes of the anger that simmers beneath the surface.

the intensity in his eyes burns with a ferocity that seems almost palpable, a tempest of emotions barely contained within their depths. the wrinkles on his forehead, like the rings of an ancient tree, tell stories of past struggles and unresolved conflicts, each one adding to the complexity of his expression. the entirety of his visage becomes a canvas painted with the raw, unfiltered fury that now defines this moment.

and most importantly, the way he raised his hand. the gesture, though seemingly simple, is laden with an almost unbearable weight. it is a movement filled with unspoken words and suppressed emotions, a silent testament to the turmoil that rages within him. the lift of his hand, deliberate and fraught with tension, carries the echoes of past grievances and unhealed wounds.

it is as if time slows, allowing the gravity of the moment to fully sink in, each second stretching into an eternity. the significance of this action is not lost on you, as it encapsulates the depth of his inner conflict and the intensity of his unvoiced anguish.

you immediately flinch, bringing your arms up to your head to shield you from what you thought he was about to do. the reaction is instinctive, a primal response born from past experiences and deep-seated fears.

your body moves on its own accord, muscles tensing and heart pounding as you brace for an impact that never comes. the air around you thickens, charged with the electricity of your sudden terror.

each second stretches into an agonizing eternity, your mind racing through memories of similar moments, each one leaving an indelible mark on your psyche. the vulnerability of your posture, arms raised in a futile attempt at protection, speaks volumes of the trauma that lingers, shaping your every reflex and reaction.

your body knew that it was just matt, but your mind played tricks on you. the familiarity of his presence should have been a comfort, yet your mind conjured specters from the past, blurring the lines between reality and memory.

the rational part of you recognized matt's touch, his voice, the essence of his being, yet the shadows of your past wove an intricate tapestry of fear and confusion. it was as if your mind, a master of deception, replayed old scenes with cruel precision, morphing matt's every gesture into a haunting echo of what once was. the dichotomy between your physical awareness and the mental labyrinth you navigated created a dissonance that left you teetering on the edge of sanity.

"please don't," you whispered, tears starting to stream down your face as your heart pounded in your chest. your voice, barely more than a breath, trembled with the weight of unshed sorrow and unspoken fears.

each tear that traced a path down your cheeks seemed to carry a fragment of your shattered soul, glistening in the dim light like shards of broken glass. the plea hung in the air, fragile and desperate, a testament to the storm raging within you.

your heart, a wild drumbeat in your chest, echoed the tumultuous emotions that threatened to overwhelm you, each thud a reminder of the vulnerability and pain that had become your constant companions.

"what? oh my god, no—" matt said softly, though you couldn't hear it with your ringing ears. "no, no, no, baby, no." his voice, laden with a mixture of shock and desperation, barely pierced through the cacophony that filled your mind. the words, though gentle, carried the weight of his anguish, each syllable a plea for understanding and reassurance.

the softness of his tone, juxtaposed with the intensity of the moment, created a poignant contrast, underscoring the depth of his concern and the helplessness he felt in that instant. his repeated denials, like a mantra, sought to bridge the chasm of fear and pain that had suddenly yawned between you, a futile attempt to anchor you both in a reality that seemed to be slipping away.

his heart pounded against his chest, nibbling on his bottom lip as he pulled you closer, your trembling body against his. the rhythm of his heart, an insistent drumbeat, echoed within the confines of his chest, each pulse a testament to the turmoil within.

his teeth grazed his bottom lip, a subconscious attempt to quell the rising tide of emotion. as he drew you closer, your trembling form pressed against him, he sought to forge a connection amidst the swirling tempest.

the warmth of your quivering body, fragile and delicate, became his anchor, a fleeting sanctuary in the midst of chaos, offering a momentary respite from the storm that raged within and around you both.

"no—don't," you whisper, your voice trembling as matt kissed the top of your head, resting his chin atop it. your voice, barely more than a fragile breath, quivered with the weight of unshed tears.

matt's lips brushed the crown of your head, a tender gesture laden with unspoken emotions. as his chin settled gently atop your head, it was as if he sought to shield you from the encroaching darkness, to offer solace in the simplest of touches. the trembling in your voice mirrored the tremors in your heart, each word a plea, a desperate attempt to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you both.

"i’m not. i won’t. i would never hit you," he whispered assuringly. though it was useless since you couldn’t hear anything with your labored breaths and ringing ears. his voice, a soft murmur of reassurance, carried a profound sincerity, each word a vow etched in the air.

despite his earnest whispers, they were swallowed by the cacophony of your labored breaths and the relentless ringing in your ears. his assurances, though spoken with the gentleness of a summer breeze, seemed to dissipate into the void, unable to pierce through the storm of your inner turmoil.

the disconnect between his soothing promises and your inability to perceive them underscored the chasm that had opened between your shared reality and the isolating grip of your distress.

your breaths, once steady, now came in rapid, uneven gasps, each inhale and exhale a testament to the mounting panic within you. your shoulders heaved with the force of your distress, rising and falling in a dramatic rhythm that mirrored the tempest in your heart.

tears, unrelenting and bitter, carved glistening paths down your cheeks, each droplet a silent witness to the depth of your sorrow. the physical manifestations of your anguish painted a poignant picture of a soul in turmoil, each breath and tear a cry for solace amidst the chaos.

matt, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in your demeanor. with a gentle yet firm resolve, he withdrew from the embrace, his hands finding their place on your shoulders. his eyes, deep pools of concern and determination, locked onto yours, seeking to bridge the chasm of despair that threatened to engulf you. the intensity of his gaze, laden with unspoken promises and a fervent desire to understand, became a lifeline in the swirling maelstrom of your emotions.

as your gaze met his, the storm within your eyes began to calm, the hardness melting away like frost under the morning sun. the realization dawned upon you, a gentle epiphany that the figure before you was not your father, but matt, steadfast and compassionate.

your eyes softened, the tension in your face easing as the shadows of past fears receded. in that moment of clarity, the lines between past and present blurred, and the warmth of matt's presence began to soothe the echoes of old wounds.

"hey, hey, it’s okay. i’m here. i would never hurt you," he whispered, each word a delicate thread woven with care. his tone, imbued with a profound gentleness, was a balm to your frayed nerves, a soft assurance that sought to anchor you amidst the tempest. the sincerity in his voice, tender and unwavering, was a promise, a vow that resonated deeply, striving to reach the core of your being and dispel the shadows of doubt and fear.

your lips quivered, a silent testament to the turmoil within, as your mind swam in a haze of confusion and distress. each breath you took became a laborious endeavor, the weight of your emotions pressing down upon your chest.

the clarity of thought that once guided you now seemed distant, replaced by a fog that clouded your senses and left you adrift in a sea of uncertainty. the physical manifestations of your inner chaos painted a poignant picture of a soul grappling with the depths of its own despair.

»--•--«

“you’re so useless!” your dad bellows, his voice a thunderous roar that reverberates through the room. with a furious swipe, he sends a flower pot crashing to the floor, shards scattering like the remnants of shattered dreams.

his eyes blaze with an intensity that speaks of deep-seated rage, each flicker of anger a dagger aimed at your already fragile heart. the raw, unfiltered fury in his gaze is a storm unto itself, leaving you to weather the tempest of his wrath.

ou flinch, your body instinctively recoiling as you take tentative steps backward, each movement a desperate bid for escape. the air grows thick with tension, your retreat a silent plea for safety.

yet, your dad's keen eyes catch the subtle shift, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that halts your retreat. the awareness of his scrutiny freezes you in place, the hope of slipping away unnoticed dissolving under the weight of his penetrating stare.

with each furious stomp, he closes the distance between you, his presence a looming shadow of anger. his hand darts out, seizing the back of your shirt with a vice-like grip. in a swift, forceful motion, he lifts you off the ground, your feet dangling helplessly in the air. the sensation of being suspended, caught in his unyielding grasp, sends a jolt of fear through your body, amplifying the already overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

“you’re so incompetent! you’re a disgrace to this family!” he bellows, his voice a tempest of fury that crashes over you. with a violent shove, he hurls you to the ground, your small frame colliding harshly with the cold, unforgiving marble floor.

the impact reverberates through your body, pain mingling with the flood of emotions that surge within you. tears stream down your face, each drop a testament to the deep-seated sorrow and helplessness that grips your heart.

“oh shut it, you’ll get over it!” he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. his dismissive words cut through the air like a blade, but they do nothing to stem the tide of your tears. you continue to cry, each sob a raw, unfiltered expression of the pain that his callousness only deepens. the tears flow freely, a silent rebellion against the indifference etched in his voice.

“did i say that you could cry more?” he demands, his voice a sharp edge that slices through the silence. he turns to you, his gaze piercing as you slowly shake your head, the movement almost imperceptible. “exactly! so stop crying, brat,” he snaps, his words laced with an unyielding authority that leaves no room for defiance.

you sniff, the sound barely audible as you quickly scramble to your feet. with a surge of adrenaline, you start running, each step fueled by a desperate need to escape. your feet falter occasionally, causing you to stumble, but you push onward, driven by the urgency of the moment.

“hey! where are you going!?” he yells, his voice echoing with a mix of anger and confusion. he begins to walk after you, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, each one a reminder of the distance you’re trying to put between yourself and the source of your pain.

you try to open the front door, but it's locked, the handle refusing to give. panic surges within you, and your eyes widen as you slowly turn to face your father. his unforgiving gaze meets yours, a silent testament to the authority and control he wields.

“oh, so you want to escape now?” he asks, his voice dripping with a mix of incredulity and mockery. a soft, derisive scoff escapes his lips, echoing in the tense silence between you. his eyes narrow, filled with a cold, unyielding intensity, as he slowly draws his fist back. the motion is deliberate, almost methodical, as if he’s savoring the moment, before he aims it directly towards your face, the threat hanging heavily in the air.

»--•--«

the sudden jolt of his words snapped you back to reality, pulling you from the depths of your swirling thoughts. matt’s eyes, unwavering and intense, continued to bore into yours, as if searching for something hidden deep within your soul.

“hey, it’s okay. I’m here with you. let’s take some slow, deep breaths together. breathe in... and out. focus on my voice and just keep breathing. you’re safe right now,” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos in your mind. you nod softly, trying to follow his instructions and take slow, deep breaths, but the anxiety grips you tightly, making it difficult to find the calm he’s trying to guide you towards.

matt nods thoughtfully, his gaze shifting as he surveys the surroundings. “alright, let’s try something together,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

“first, look around and tell me three things you can see,” he says, his voice steady and grounding, as he encourages you to anchor yourself in the present.

“y-you, the couch, a-and the tv,” you stammer, each word a struggle, your voice a mere whisper, trembling with the weight of your emotions. the effort to speak seems monumental, as if the simple act of naming these objects is a lifeline to the present moment amidst the chaos of your mind.

“now, listen carefully and tell me three sounds you can hear,” matt said, his voice calm and steady, guiding you to focus on the auditory tapestry of your surroundings.

“i hear- you, th-the clock, and the rain outside,” your voice barely audible, you whisper, each word a delicate thread of sound in the stillness.

you feel the panic slowly ebbing away, like the receding tide, leaving a sense of calm gradually washing over your body.

“you’re doing amazing baby. now, move three parts of your body, like wiggling your fingers or toes. you're doing great, just keep focusing on these steps." matt murmurs softly, his voice a gentle caress against the storm of emotions swirling within you.

you nod, eyelids fluttering shut as your fingers dance with a nervous energy, guiding your trembling hand to your locks, gently tucking them behind your ear in a gesture of fragile composure. you incline your head, eyelids descending as your digits quiver with an anxious fervor, maneuvering your tremulous hand to your tresses, meticulously securing them behind your ear in a gesture of delicate poise.

you exhale a gentle sigh, the tempest within you gradually subsiding as your eyelids flutter open, revealing eyes tinged with a bloodshot hue, remnants of your emotional tempest.

“oh baby,” he murmured soothingly, extending his arms in a welcoming embrace. “c’mere, sweet gir.l”

you offered a gentle smile, advancing towards him with measured steps, encircling him with your arms and surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

you allowed the silence to envelop you, feeling the tender press of his lips upon your head, as he gently rested his chin atop, creating a sanctuary of tranquility.

“m’sorry about earlier,” he whispers, his voice a soft murmur. “i’ll be around more, i promise, baby.”

“thank you,” you mumble, your words muffled against the warmth of his chest.

[artofmaquenda]

I began creating my "moonpaintings" in 2020, back when I often felt intense physical pain each month. I’ve always felt compelled to make art, though it’s rarely easy to explain why. Often, it feels like I’m driven by pure curiosity—or maybe even a touch of madness. When I started, I didn’t fully understand what this process meant to me. Sometimes we think we know why we’re drawn to something, only to realize it reflects something deeper or unexpected within us. Painting with my own blood became a raw way to explore emotions I couldn’t easily put into words.

Looking back, I realize this art was also a response to emotions I didn’t know how to handle. I carried a quiet sadness, though I never wanted to be defined or judged for it. People often think depression means you don’t enjoy life, but that’s not the case for me. I feel deeply connected to life—I laugh, I feel moved by beauty, I’m grateful. But I also carry grief and a kind of sorrow I can’t always explain. Maybe it’s about the world, personal losses, or just the heaviness that comes without reason. I’ve even had people assume my interests—like vulture culture and themes around mortality—stem solely from depression or past traumas. While my experiences have certainly influenced my art, my curiosity reaches far beyond them. I’m fascinated by life in its many forms, by the mysteries of nature, by cycles of renewal and decay, by everything that exists beneath the surface of what we think we know.

I’ve often felt like I had to control my emotions to be accepted, but not only for others’ comfort. Growing up in a home where emotions sometimes felt unstable and the atmosphere unpredictable, I learned to keep myself in check, to be “small” and steady even when I felt anything but. That need for control became a habit, a way to feel safe—but as I kept it up, it also became stifling. The more I tried to manage or conceal my intensity, the more isolated and disconnected I felt, and the heavier my emotions became.

I’ve sometimes worried that sharing these parts of myself might lead people to feel sorry for me, to try to “analyze” or “fix” me, even while I feel they may hide similar parts of themselves. It’s complicated, wanting to be open without being seen as fragile, and hoping others would feel safe to be open too.

Over time, though, I’m beginning to accept these parts of myself, and my moonpaintings have been a big part of that. Through them, I’m learning to embrace everything I am—light and dark, joy and sorrow. I’m still working on releasing the shame around my sadness and intensity, allowing myself to see these emotions as valid and worthy. I’m not fully there yet, but with each piece, I feel closer to showing up as my whole self, without needing to hide or “fix” anything.

This journey isn’t about being completely healed or “done”—it’s about letting all parts of me exist without judgment, about finding a kind of peace in the messiness. And maybe that’s the real beauty of this work: it gives me a place to honor where I am right now, embracing all the parts of me that are still growing, still struggling, still becoming.

[pombeom]

pose away | yeonjun fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: enemies to lovers, arrogant model!yeonjun x sub photographer!reader

warnings: nicknames, slut shaming, blowjob, wall sex, markings, unprotected sex, hair pulling

a/n: this might be my favourite fic written yet! djsjkskssjjaka im craving mean yeonjun so bad rn! not proofread

Working as a freelance photographer bought its many challenges. Today was one of them. You hauled yourself out of bed early in the morning to begin setting up the make-shift studio in your living room. Whilst you were studying photography at a college, working part time gave you the opportunity to build up both your experience and portfolio. Often times you don’t get a choice as you take on whatever projects come your way. Even when the person you despised most on campus comes to you asking for a photoshoot, no matter how much you wanted to refuse, you agreed, setting up a date for your shoot which happened to be today. 

You move the lights arounds, working out the best places for them and begin creating an inspiration mood board on your phone before he arrives. The sun burned through the large windows, raising the inside inside your home so you turn on the aircon, hoping it would cool your house down in time for your guest’s arrival. You know he would complain about it being too warm being the spoiled brat he is. You didn’t want to take any chances, especially not today when he had promised you a large sum of money for your services even though you often charge little to nothing. 

Just as you finished setting up, cleaning up the final bits and bobs around the room, you hear the bell ring and not even a second later, a loud thumping on the door. 

“My god, he can’t even wait a second can he,” you sigh shaking your head at his impatience, already regretting accepting his clientele. 

You open the door to see a tall man standing arrogantly in front of you, wanting to wipe away that smirk on his face as he walked in, shoving past you. 

“Nice set up you there,” he says as he makes his own way through your living room, seating himself down on your leather sofa, manspreading his long legs. 

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes, attempting to suppress your annoyance. Why on earth is Yeonjun in your house right now? How did this even happen? 

He’s wearing a linen shirt, the first few buttons undone, and black slacks making his outfit look laid back in a put together kinda way. His long hair is styled so it’s tucked behind his ear but a few strands strayed and fell onto his face. No matter how much you hated him, you weren’t blind to the fact that he’s probably the most attractive person on campus. There’s a certain aura he possesses that just lures you in. But you were better than that. He doesn’t seem to control you the way he does other girls. No matter how many times you nearly slipped into his charm, you had always managed to bring yourself back. 

“Are you gonna tell me what to do, or are you just gonna keep staring at me like that?” His sharp voice brings you back, slightly embarrassed that he caught you. 

“I wasn’t staring, simply observing you to see what I’m working with.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already “observed” me enough before. Unless you wanna keep staring, then go for it. I don’t mind. I know you like it too,” you let out a sigh, making sure he could hear it, rolling your eyes at his self-centredness. How you were to put up with this for another 3 hours was beyond you. 

“Come stand here. You see the green tape? Just make sure you stand behind it. You can pose away Mr Choi Yeonjun,” you instruct, getting behind the camera as he makes his way onto the white screen. 

Without needing much guidance, he gets into all sorts of poses. He starts off by crouching, sticking out his tongue, eluding with sexiness before shifting to another pose where he’s standing up again, hands in both pockets as he tilts his head ever so slightly but in all the ways that makes a difference. 

For the next 30 minutes, he is constantly moving while you’re almost having to do an entire workout just to keep up with him. The heat of the room also gets to you, your cheeks flushed red which Yeonjun notices. 

“Are you blushing from how good I look, doll?” his smirk, combined with the nickname sets you off, feeling the heat burn through your cheeks even more. 

“Shut up. How about we take a break?” You question, trying to distract you from the fact that you’re now ever so slightly turned on by his comment. 

With that, Yeonjun is slumped back on your couch, while you run to the kitchen, rummaging through your freezer trying to find an ice lolly to cool and calm you down. 

You discard the wrapper in the bin, taking the long stick of coloured ice in your mouth, sucking off the first layer is its juices. You moan at the feeling of the cold entering your mouth, as the ice begins to melt around it. Walking back to the living room, Yeonjun puts his phone down to look up at you, once again with a smile that has a mischievous allure plastered onto it. 

“Doll, you think you could suck a cock like that?” 

His remark has you pulling the ice lolly out your mouth instantly, making a pop as it comes out. Your jaw is left hanging as you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel up to your throat, leaving you speechless. 

He stand up and steps towards you ever so slowly that for some reason you wish he would go faster so he could be closer to you sooner. When he gets less than 2 feet away, you step back hitting the wall as his arms cage you, trapping you in his presence. His fingers wipe away the juice from your iced treat in one swipe as he takes it to his own mouth sucking off the liquid. Your eyes enlarge from the proximity and his actions, feeling the ice drop down your fingers as well as a wetness forming in between your legs. 

“I asked you a question. Do you think you could suck a cock like that?” 

“Mhmm…” you were only able to make a short sound while you nod your head, not shying away from his sharp gaze. 

“Why don’t you show me then, doll?” He caresses your hair before grabbing it into a tight ponytail and before you know it, you’re on your knees below him, almost seeming as if you were begging for his dick. 

With his free hand, he unbuttons his trousers letting them slip down his lean legs and as if on cue, you pull down his black boxers, his long cock springing out. Whilst he may have been an average on thickness, he definitely made up for it in length, so much so that you could already feel it hitting the tip of your cervix. 

“Come on doll, suck my pretty cock.” 

You begin by encapsulating just his tip in your mouth, letting the coldness from the ice transfer onto his hard length to which it reacts by twitching in your mouth as Yeonjun hisses. You slowly move up and down his shaft looking up at his face whilst doing so, meeting his eyes filled with lust. 

“You’re pretty mouth looks so good around my cock, doesn’t it, doll? Go faster.”

His grip on your hair tightens as he begins shoving his dick into your mouth as if on a rampage, tears falling from your eyes. His other hand grabs ahold of your chin, lifting it up further to better his view of what he was doing to you. Your moans vibrate against his cock, sending him into a high as he grunts with every pump. You feel him twitch in your mouth and before he can cum, he pulls out harshly, making the same pop as your ice lolly. Your sobs don’t stop even after he’s pulled out, craving to feel him more. Especially inside you. 

“Aww, is my doll crying because she wants me? I think I can help with that. Stand up,” he commands, his voice firm but flirty. His assurance only made him sexier at this present moment as much as you hated to admit it. 

Once you’re on your feet, he slams you back into the wall and pulls down your shorts in one swift move, revealing your white lace thong. 

“I knew my doll was a slut for me. Even if you hate to actually say it.” 

Your excuse was that you hadn’t done your laundry yet so you were left with your more extravagant pieces of lingerie but even you knew that deep down he was somewhat correct. 

You feel a sudden sensation as you feel Yeonjun’s lips attached to your neck, sucking under your ear, instantly having found your sweet spot. Melting under his magic touch, your hands automatically move around his neck, pulling him in closer, wanting to feel him more. 

“Yeonjun. Touch me please.” 

You were desperate for him and you hated it but with the puddle increasingly seeping through your underwear, you couldn’t care less, only wanting to feel him inside you. 

Yeonjun, strokes your clothed pussy, that being enough to send you off high, as you moan in his ears, humping his hands. 

“Such a slut for me, are you doll? Wonder what you’d be like if you had the real thing slamming into you?” 

And that’s exactly what he did. Pushing your thong to the side, he rams his cock in, not letting you adjust, pushing in and out of your pussy as he holds up your thigh, ensuring that he can hit into you deeper. With each thrust, you let out a sinful moan, as Yeonjun’s pride and ego skyrocket through the roof. As he picks up the pace he lifts you up, supporting you against the wall by holding up both your thighs. Even then, he didn’t slow down, continuing to slam his cock into you, abusing the top of your cervix over and over. 

“You’re so fucking hot, doll. Can’t wait to be cumming on you babe. Can’t wait to ruin you. You want that don’t you?” 

The way he thrusts has you feeling his cock all the way in your throat, making deep moans the only thing that come out your mouth. 

“Going dumb on my cock, doll? Such a slut aren’t you?” 

He rams into you even faster as you feel your orgasm getting closer. Your hole now sensitive as you feel the knot in your stomach build. 

“Yeonjun! I’m gonna cum!” You scream, wanting to reach your high. M

You let out one last moan as the orgasmix wave ripples through your entire body, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Yeonjun rides out your high before pulling out and pulling his own spurts of cum onto your T-shirt which you hasn’t removed. Your favourite black T-shirt was now stained with his cum, not knowing if a round of washing would help. 

You collapse as your legs were physically unable to hold you up but before you reach the ground, Yeonjun’s arms catch you, supporting your waist, helping you remain standing. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot. And you’re such a slut for me. If only I knew sooner. Would have fucked your brains out much sooner.” 

You finally fell. After 2 years of holding it back, you finally fell for Yeonjun’s charm and his lustful aura. Any sense of disappointment you would have felt was overridden with the fact that you had gotten the best sex of your life from this man you despise. 

[after-witch]

The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you. 

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters. 

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess. 

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.” 

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal. 

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?” 

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room. 

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips. 

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse. 

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel. 

“Then show me.” 

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke. 

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts. 

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?” 

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.” 

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

--

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair. 

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning. 

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say. 

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.” 

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains. 

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles. 

“Don’t.” 

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again. 

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.” 

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.” 

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward. 

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up. 

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches  in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable. 

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!” 

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end. 

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them. 

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you. 

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

[hisunflower]

Love | Lee Haechan ☀︎ . ݁ ˖

summary: Haechan holds you close, as you’ve been having trouble sleeping with so much on your mind lately, yet there is love seen and felt in the silence of being in his arms.

Genre: Fluff | Word Count: 515

The bedroom ceiling fan spins on medium speed, with a temperature cool enough to hide underneath the covers and warm enough to be able to stay comfortable without overheating.

You lay on your side watching the stars behind your eyes as you walk the trail of thoughts that are too loud.

Suddenly you feel a dip in the mattress behind you as Haechan crawls into bed, slipping underneath the blankets and wrapping his cold arm around your body as your back is facing him.

He pulls you closer and begins to whisper the sweetest words to you, peppering small kisses on your neck in between them. He moves your damp hair behind your ear, the smell of fresh mint toothpaste and your favorite body wash from him causes you to smile, making you forget all of your worries as his scent calms you as always.

He brings the same hand down your body, softly caressing your thigh and gliding it back up to massage your arm, relaxing your tense shoulders.

You melt into his touch.

His body warmth, the warmth of his words, his heart, everything about him always tends to make you feel the safest you’ve ever felt, reminding you of home and fulfilling that empty space in your heart that no one can take up except for him. You simply wouldn’t allow it.

Your previous thoughts long gone, feeling like memories of old drifting away from the once crowded trail into a quiet place.

He whispers your name, guiding you to turn around and lay on his chest. Your mind focuses on nothing but his touch as it makes way to your scalp, his fingertips gliding through your hair. He kisses your forehead and the spot leaves a tingle that eases your heart.

You listen to his heartbeat as he brings you even closer and holds you safely in his arms.

Haechan understands that sometimes you don’t want to talk about what is on your mind, so this is how he lets you know that he is always open to listening if you ever want him to walk that path with you.

Your breathing is calm and steady, and with a final deep breath, you slowly feel yourself drift into a long and peaceful sleep into a world of dreams.

But it isn’t until you wake up the next morning when you realize it was never a journey you walked by yourself, because even with the smallest of gestures like those of last night, he was with you and you were never alone. It was only when it was quiet could you see that he was there all along.

And with this, your eyes flutter open to feel a different heaviness on your chest than days past.

It is the head of the man with the softest and fluffiest hair that sleeps peacefully to the sound of your heart.

And as the morning sun seeps through your curtains into your dim bedroom, you look to the star in your own darkness that shines right in front of your eyes as you walk the trail of thoughts that have now replaced themselves with words of love.

Author’s Note: Hii! I actually created this story along the way, (which means I surprised myself.) It was late and 100% unintentional, but I trusted myself, and it almost feels like I was being told the story while writing it! Even now, whenever I come back to it, it feels like I’m reading it for the first time.

I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is deeply appreciated, with love @hisunflower ❀

Check out my other fics here.

[revelboo]

Angelina Jolie, please (TFE megatron)

I need more content, there's almost none of it here 😞😭👍

I’m crying, hating that y’all inflicted that mental image on me and created that connection in my brain from now on. Thanks, I hate it 😂

Give Up/ Give In Pt 3

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• Being trapped in his alt mode for an extended time is almost a form of torture, claustrophobia clawing at him. But it’s his penance. He could have let Alex and Dorothy remove you from his interior, but hadn’t wanted you out of sight. That guilt twisting in his spark because you weren’t the first innocent caught in the middle of a fight between the factions and hurt. There had been so many, Cybertronian and human. And while he can’t undo the past, this time he can try to own up to his actions. So you stay where he can watch over you, saving and protecting one human to try and atone for so many.

• Everything hurts as you come awake in degrees. Moving pulls at your side and leg, and hissing through your teeth, you clench your eyes shut as a wave of nausea crashes over you, body shaking with it and heart racing as you remember fragments. Cybertronians fighting. The impact and fiery pain. Megatron reaching for you. “Easy, little one. Breathe.” That low, growling voice comes from all around you, chaining the panic running wild in you. “Breathe.” It’s a command and you cover your eyes and try to obey. Deep breath in, pain from your side making your eyes sting as your breath hitches. Then let it out, shuddering in pain. Again. “That’s it.”

• Trembling against him, you press your palms against your eyes, but listen. Calming slowly, laying inside his alt mode tangled in the blankets Alex had brought you. When you finally lower your hands, your head turns to survey his interior, eyes dull with pain. “You’re Megatron, right?” You ask, voice a raw rasp as you lay your cheek back down, likely already exhausted again. Hurting. Will confirming who he is ease your mind or just send your little heart racing again? He doubts it will be the former, knows what everyone thinks of him. That just because he’s playing nice now, doesn’t mean he’s actually changed. No matter what he does, they all still expect the monster.

• “That’s right,” comes the voice surrounding you from everywhere and nowhere as you try not to be weirded out by the fact that you’re sprawled inside him. He’d freed you from your car when he hadn’t had to. Taken pity on you even though to him, humans must be so pathetically helpless and weak. Maybe even contemptible and he’d saved you. Brought you to help? You think so as you run a trembling hand under the sheets and find bandages. Trying to explore the wound to see how bad it is under the dressing feels like touching a live wire, your brain shorting out with pain and vision going gray at the edges as you swallow convulsively. “You need to rest, little one.” There’s an edge to those words in that warm brogue. An admonishment that’s almost sweet, like he’s worried. Like the big, scary former warlord cares. You’d laugh, but it would hurt.

• “Thank you,” you murmur and he’s not sure if you mean for pulling you from the car originally or for just now. What he does know? He doesn’t deserve your thanks. Shouldn’t have engaged the Seekers so near a population center. He hadn’t spared a thought for the humans at the time, only focused on the fight. And you’d paid for it. He doesn’t know how to respond to you, how to form an apology, but you save him from that. Your breathing shifting as you sink under again, and he focuses on monitoring that little spot of warmth in need of his protection.

Previous

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[gothcsz]

part eight of the neighbors series. soooo my angsty little brain just couldn’t leave these two alone 😫 i think we all want to see javier navigate through the consequences of his actions, and thus this was created. this takes place after part six since i’m finally starting to curate a timeline for this. enjoy the angst muñekitas (gn) 🖤

javier peña x f!reader. ~2.2k word count. nothing to tag except the angst that comes with this pairing 😭 oh and some allusions to like porn but even then it’s not a lot.

Now it’s Javier’s turn to feel the absence.

It’s a slow, creeping ache that nestles into his chest every time he notices your purposeful distance.

Since that night when he stumbled to your door, drunk on bourbon and drowning in guilt over disappointing two women in different, disastrous ways, it’s like you’ve vanished, retreating behind walls he helped you build with his own selfish hands.

The way you breeze past him at work, your gaze fixed on anything but him, your expression carefully neutral, like he’s just another face in the crowd.

He lets his eyes linger on you when you’re not looking, tracing the set of your shoulders, the curve of your lips as you smile at someone else. He tells himself it’s just a habit, but the truth is uglier: it’s longing.

He misses you, and it’s eating him alive.

He doesn’t push it, doesn’t call your name or try to stop you. What would he even say?

This is why he thinks, maybe, it’s best to let you go. To step back and leave you to a life that doesn’t revolve around his mess of baggage and excuses. You deserve that—someone consistent.

But Javier is nothing if not selfish.

You make him feel good about himself, make him believe, even for a fleeting moment, that maybe he isn’t as broken as he thinks.

He knows it’s fucked up to want that back, to keep you in his orbit when all he’s done is take and take and take.

He tells himself he’ll change, that he’ll be better for you, but the lie tastes bitter in his mouth. He’s said it too many times before.

He’s never changed. He doesn’t know if he ever will.

Even your apartment feels like it’s given up on him.

The sounds of your life—the muffled hum of your TV, the groan of the pipes when you shower—have vanished. There’s no scent of your cooking wafting into the hallway, no warm glow of your living room lamp spilling onto the street at night.

The first time he knocks on your door and you don’t answer, it’s to apologize. For everything. For being him. He knows you’re tired of his apologies, but he doesn’t know how else to fix things.

The second time, he’s worked himself into a dumb excuse just to see you. Borrowing sugar? Too cliché. Asking you to water his plants? A lie—his plants are fake, courtesy of the furnished apartment.

He settles on a half-baked story about needing your phone because his isn’t working. But you’re not home, or at least you don’t answer.

The third time, he’s drunk again, and missing you has become unbearable. Work is getting worse, and the pressure is pushing him toward old, ugly habits. Temptation whispers in his ear to drive across the city to the familiar brothel.

He’s fighting it—fighting himself—but losing. He mutters nonsense against your door, forehead pressed to the wood, cursing himself for every way he’s managed to screw this up.

By now, he feels pathetic, like a ghost haunting your door with no purpose.

Has he been so self-absorbed that he missed the signs of you moving out? No, he’d have noticed that. He’s sure.

Are you pretending not to be home, just to avoid him? No, you’re not the type. Even thinking it makes him feel more desperate.

He’s grasping at straws, trying to make sense of your absence, but the truth gnaws at him: this is what he deserves.

Javier’s knee bounces impatiently as he watches the clock in the office. The minute hand finally ticks past twelve, and he’s up, snatching his jacket off the back of his chair. His movements are quick, borderline desperate.

Steve doesn’t even look up from the report in his hand, but his coffee mug tilts lazily in Javier’s direction. “Where are you goin’?”

“Out,” Javier snaps, already tugging on his jacket.

Steve smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Gettin’ your dick wet in the middle of the day is impressive, Peña.”

Javier doesn’t dignify the sarcastic comment with a response, brushing past him and into the hallway.

The elevator takes its sweet time, and he jabs the button repeatedly, as if that’ll make it arrive faster.

He doesn’t have much of a plan. Just the hope of catching you on your lunch break, cornering you long enough to get a word in.

He doesn’t care if you tell him to fuck off—it’s very warranted. He just needs to see you, hear your voice, anything to bridge the unbearable silence that’s imposed between you.

When the elevator doors open, he’s out like a shot, weaving through the hallway until he makes it to the courtyard.

He picks a bench partially hidden by shrubs, knowing full well that if you spot him beforehand, you’d turn on your heel and walk the other way.

On cue, you appear. Lunchbox in hand, you push open the glass door and step into the sunlit courtyard.

The way you breathe in the fresh air, as if it’s the first real breath you’ve taken all day, does something to him—something he can’t explain and it warms him up inside.

You settle at a table, pulling out your lunch with that same careful precision he’s always found maddeningly endearing.

He calls your name softly, stepping out from his hiding spot.

You’ve been proud of yourself lately, weaning yourself off of him little by little. It’s been painful, sure, but necessary.

Spending more time at Mateo’s penthouse has helped. What started as a few overnights has quietly turned into something more—a drawer in his dresser, a spot on his bathroom counter, a spare key on your keychain.

You’ve unofficially moved in, and with it has come a tentative sense of peace.

The man dotes on you, showers you with affection and thoughtful gifts, and you’re starting to let yourself feel something for him. How could you not? He treats you well, and after everything with Javier, that feels like a revelation.

So you’ve given Javier the cold shoulder. It wasn’t easy at first—cutting him off, ignoring the drunken mess who showed up at your door that night, all guilt and bourbon fumes.

But you’ve stayed firm. You let him crash on your couch, sure, but only because you didn’t have the heart to turn him away entirely.

After that, you swore you wouldn’t let him back in—not until he showed up with a real apology instead of the hollow ones he always throws your way.

Javier doesn’t understand apologies. Not really. His are more about smoothing things over, dodging guilt, than actually taking responsibility for how he’s hurt you.

You’re tired of being the balm for his bad choices.

“Javier,” you exhale sharply, a hand flying to your chest as your heart races from the scare he’s given you. He always had a knack for sneaking up on you, but now, it’s more irritating than endearing. “You scared me.”

His expression twists in discomfort, a cringe already tugging at his face. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, the words reflexive.

Your brows pinch together at the sound of them, suspicion creeping into your tone. “Can I help you with something? I’d rather take my lunch alone today.”

There it is—the cool detachment, the way your voice wraps around the words like barbed wire, leaving him no easy way in. He hates it. But he knows he’s earned it.

“I just…” He hesitates, shifting his weight like the words are hard to carry. “How are you?”

Your eyes narrow, scanning him like you’re trying to find the angle, the ulterior motive buried beneath the surface. “Fine,” you say crisply. “What do you want, Javier?”

He takes a step closer, his voice low and almost pleading. “I haven’t seen you around. Things have been tense between us, and I—”

“I wonder why,” you cut him off.

He grits his teeth, the frustration crackling in his chest like static. “Can you just talk to me? Please?”

You straighten in your seat, meeting his gaze head-on. There’s no softness there, only a resolute weariness. “Why?” you demand. “Because you’re upset? Because you’re sad? Why is it always on me to be there for you, but you can just disappear when the roles are reversed?”

The soft gurgle of the courtyard fountain fills the silence that follows, a gentle backdrop to the storm brewing between you.

“I never…” He rubs the back of his neck, searching for the right words and finding none that feel adequate. “I never intended for it to come off that way.”

Your laugh is bitter, devoid of humor. “Intention or not, you’ve been a terrible friend. And honestly? I’m done putting energy into something that only drains me.” You lean back, crossing your arms with finality. “So please, just leave me alone.”

He stares at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of softness, any opening he can slip through. But all he finds is resolve, the hurt buried behind it making the air between you feel suffocating.

Finally, he nods, the movement stiff and reluctant. “Okay… okay.” His voice is quiet, resigned, the words a pale shadow of what he wants to say.

There’s a thousand arguments, apologies, and pleas clawing at the back of his throat, but none of them escape.

All he can do now is give you what you’re asking for—the space he let get too vast.

He lingers for a second longer, like he’s memorizing the sight of you, before turning and walking away.

You keep your eyes trained on your lunch, refusing to watch him leave. It’s only when his footsteps fade into the background that you let out a shaky breath, your head falling into your hands.

He’s so damn frustrating.

The days pass in a haze, Javier’s life tumbling forward at its usual relentless pace.

He doesn’t mope by your door anymore, no longer knocking with some feeble excuse or lingering in hopes you’ll let him in.

At work, he doesn’t glance your way when you pass. Doesn’t try to engage.

Conveniently, the streets are rife with bullshit, and his job gives him more than enough to drown in.

Between navigating corrupt bureaucrats, dodging the cartel’s web of influence, and wrangling informants who can’t keep their stories straight, there’s no time to brood.

Or so he convinces himself.

Instead of facing the weight of his loneliness head-on, he starts seeing Vanessa more often. She’s sharp, witty, and knows how to keep secrets—a working girl turned informant turned... something else.

Lover feels too strong, too sincere. What he has with Vanessa isn’t love. It’s relief. A salve for the parts of him he doesn’t know how to fix.

He doesn’t feel the same about her as he does for you—or as he did for Helena. But that doesn’t stop him.

She doesn’t ask questions she knows he won’t answer. When he talks, she listens, offering the occasional hum or sly smile as he dumps his thoughts on her like she’s a therapist.

Vanessa plays the part well, whether it’s for his money or because she genuinely gives a damn, he’s not sure. The nights spent with her—whether tangled in sheets or sharing cheap whiskey and broken conversations—leave him feeling lighter.

Until he’s alone and the crushing intensity of his life presses down again. It amplifies the parts he tries to ignore: the failures, the detachment, the void left behind.

He’s currently standing in the VHS section of a raunchy sex shop, the bright pink neon lighting casting a faint glow on his face.

His hip juts out as he stands in front of the display, one hand braced there while the other dangles loosely at his side, his fingers twitching absently.

The provocative covers blur together in his mind: exaggerated poses, bold fonts, and overly made-up faces.

His gaze roves over them, a bored sort of interest in his search for something to take home. Something to tide him over on the nights he can’t visit Vanessa or doesn’t feel like picking someone up.

Then he sees it.

At first, he thinks it’s your face staring back at him from the glossy cover. His breath catches, his heart stopping like he’s been sucker-punched. He leans in, blinking hard to clear his head.

The resemblance is uncanny, but not exact. The eyes aren’t quite the same, and the curve of the smile is just a little off

It’s enough to shake him. Enough to make his stomach twist in knots, caught somewhere between relief and disappointment.

For a moment, he hesitates, stroking his mustache as his mind races.

The rational part of him knows better. But the other part—the desperate, reckless part that hasn’t quite let you go—pushes him forward.

His gaze flicks around the shop, paranoia creeping in like he’s a teenager sneaking a dirty magazine under his bed, and finally, he gives in.

He grabs the tape quickly, his gaze darting to the image on the back—a sultry, obscene shot of the actress who looks so much like you. That seals it.

Before he can second-guess himself, he’s heading to the register, slapping a few bills on the counter and ignoring the clerk’s bored, knowing look.

He rushes through his apartment door, not even bothering to kick off his boots before fumbling to pop the tape into his player.

His knees spread wide as he leans forward, elbows on his thighs, remote in hand.

The screen flickers to life, static giving way to the image of this woman who isn’t you but is just close enough to hurt.

His heart pounds as the film begins, anticipation mixing with shame.

He tells himself it’s nothing—it’s just a distraction, just something to pass the time.

But as he watches the you-lookalike pleasure herself, he realizes it’s not just about getting off. It’s about pretending, for one fleeting moment, that he still has a piece of you.

Even if it’s a lie.

“¿Estás segura que necesitas ese collar, lindura?” (Are you sure you need that necklace, darling?) Mateo’s voice drips with indulgence as he parks outside your apartment building, glancing at you with an amused smile.

“Sí,” you reply, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “It goes perfectly with this dress. I’ll just be a second, and then we can go.”

He sighs lightly but doesn’t argue, his smile widening when you lean over to kiss his cheek.

Swiping your keys from the console, you push the door open, your heels clicking onto the pavement as you hop out.

The night air is cool, and you feel radiant in your cocktail dress. It clings to your curves just right, the rich hue of the fabric practically glowing against your skin.

You’re on your way to dinner with Mateo’s boss and his wife. Somewhere too expensive, probably, given how you’re dressed.

You stride into the building, the sound of your heels echoing in the quiet corridor. But as you approach your door, your steps falter.

There, slumped against your apartment door, is a figure you’d recognize anywhere. His head is tilted awkwardly to the side, soft snores rumbling from his chest. Javier.

For a moment, you just stand there, stunned. You weren’t expecting this—not the sight of him disheveled and vulnerable, slouched like he’s been there for hours.

He’s a piece of work, truly. It’s almost laughable how he can show up uninvited and still manage to pull at your heartstrings.

This is the first time you’ve seen his face so… relaxed. Without that signature scowl or smug grin. He looks so at peace, your heart begins to flip in your chest.

“Javier,” you say sharply, crossing your arms. He doesn’t stir, his head lolling slightly.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the headlights of Mateo’s car spilling into the hallway through the windows.

“Javi,” you try again, stepping closer and nudging his foot with the toe of your shoe.

That finally does it. He stirs, blinking groggily, then rubbing his face with one hand as if trying to erase the remnants of sleep.

“Mierda,” he mutters, his voice a low, husky rumble.

“What are you doing asleep at my door?” you demand, trying to keep your tone firm.

He squints up at you, his eyes widening as they adjust to the sight of you.

For a beat, he just stares, taking in the sweep of your makeup, the soft shimmer of your perfume, and the way that dress clings to you like it was made for your body.

You see his throat work as he swallows, his brain clearly short-circuiting. “I—um…” he starts, fumbling for words as he plants a hand on the floor to hoist himself up.

He winces, groaning as he stretches out his back, his body protesting after the long fucking day he’s had.

Perhaps he should lay off the cigarettes, his lungs still aching from the intense foot chase he had engaged in earlier in the day.

It had been one of those situations that really resonated with him, and his cruel mind had shoved a memory of you two to the forefront in an attempt to ease his anxiety.

It’s why he had sought refuge by sitting outside of your door, as absurd as it looks.

“What are the odds of both of us getting locked out?” you say, breaking the silence with a sigh as you lean your head back against the wall.

Javier lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief as he sinks down to sit across from you, his legs stretched out lazily. The flickering hallway light casts soft shadows on his face, and you try not to notice how effortlessly handsome he looks, even while stranded outside his apartment.

“Maybe this should incentivize us,” he says, gesturing vaguely toward the locked doors,“to finally get spare keys made.”

You slide the takeaway container across the carpet toward him with your foot, nodding for him to dig in.

“What are you feeding me, anyway?”

“Chicken stir fry. I was craving it all day so I stopped to get some after work and now here we are.” You say with a dramatic sigh. “Figured it’s only fair to share. For the sheer cosmic injustice of tonight.”

He smirks, spearing a forkful of food before taking a bite. “How thoughtful.”

The two of you have been sitting there for nearly twenty minutes already, waiting for the locksmith to arrive.

Takeout had been your plan for a quiet night in, but now it’s turned into an impromptu hallway picnic.

“You know,” you start, a teasing edge to your voice, “you could always use your agent strength to bust the door down.”

He pauses mid-chew, one eyebrow quirking up in amusement. “Agent strength?”

“Yeah.” You grin, uncapping your water bottle to take a sip. “Don’t you guys get superpowers at the academy? Like, enhanced strength? X-ray vision? Maybe even the ability to charm your way out of literally anything?”

His laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can’t help but feel a pang of satisfaction at coaxing it out of him. “You’ve got a wild imagination, cariño.” He leans back, the fork still dangling from his fingers as his smirk deepens. “I hate to disappoint, but it’s not exactly the X-Men over there.”

“I don’t know, Javi,” you quip, pretending to inspect him. “You’ve got the smolder, the mysterious backstory, the leather jacket. Sounds pretty superhero-esque to me.”

He scoffs, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “I think you’ve been watching too many movies. What I do is… significantly less glamorous.”

“Less glamorous, sure,” you counter, “but I bet it’s still got its moments. Like when you bust down a door or take down a cartel big shot. Or when you dramatically light a cigarette while walking away from an explosion.”

The laugh that escapes him this time is louder, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet hallway. He hands the container back to you, his eyes soft with mirth as he shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” you shoot back, grinning as you take a bite of your own. “Admit it, you’ve thought about the superhero thing before.”

He tilts his head, as if considering it for a moment, then leans forward slightly, his voice low and teasing. “Alright, maybe once or twice.”

“See?” You point at him triumphantly, though the warmth in his gaze as he watches you makes your breath hitch.

There’s a moment of quiet as the two of you sit there, and you suddenly wonder if you’re imagining how much smaller the hallway feels with him in it.

The banter continues as you kill time, the two of you sharing bites of dinner and passing the container back and forth.

But when the locksmith still hasn’t arrived, the night stretches on, and you find yourself shifting closer to him. Eventually, you slide down the wall until you’re sitting side by side, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.

Javier freezes at first, his breath catching as he glances down at you.

He notices the curve of your lashes, the way your lips part slightly as you drift off, and—god help him—the faint trace of sauce smudged at the corner of your mouth.

He swallows hard, his jaw working as he debates waking you, but the quiet weight of you against him is oddly comforting.

His fingers twitch, the urge to brush a strand of hair from your cheek almost too tempting. Instead, he exhales slowly, willing himself to stay still. He doesn’t need to touch you to feel the pull you have over him.

For now, just watching you sleep—so close, so serene—will have to be enough.

“Well?” You raise a brow, folding your arms tighter across your chest as you snap him out of his reverie.

He looks away briefly, dragging a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he says finally, his voice gruff. “Just… had one of those days. My place felt too damn quiet, and I couldn’t get out of my own head.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t want to care, but there’s something about the way he says it that gives you pause.

Behind you, Mateo’s headlights flash once, a silent reminder of the evening waiting for you.

Javier notices, his gaze flicking toward the light, and his expression shifts.

“You look nice,” he says, his voice softer now, almost reverent.

You grit your teeth, refusing to let the compliment sink in. “Javier, I don’t have time for this. I’m going to be late.”

“Right,” he murmurs, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to hold you up.” But the way his eyes linger on you for a second longer says otherwise.

You shake your head, brushing past him as you unlock your door. “You need to figure yourself out,” you say, not unkindly but firmly. “I told you to leave me alone. That includes sulking outside of my apartment.”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you disappear inside, his jaw tight and his hands stuffed into his pockets.

You’re gone for only a minute, returning with the necklace in hand, and his eyes meet yours as you lock the door behind you.

“Goodnight,” you say pointedly, brushing past him again as you head for the exit.

“Goodnight,” he mutters, barely audible, watching as you slip back into Mateo’s car, the door shutting behind you with a decisive click.

The car pulls away, leaving Javier standing there alone, the glow of the streetlights casting his shadow long and weary against the pavement.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @samanthajonees . @yellowbrickyeti . @bambisweethearts . @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack . @picketniffler . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @94namkooksworld . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[lipglossanon]

Infatuation

Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

sequel to Kiss & Tell

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, stepcest, pussy eating, cum eating, slight hair pulling, spit kink, pussy slapping/spanking, dirty talk, degradation, name calling, fingerfucking, squirting, masturbating, scratching, nipple play 😏, ball sucking, facial, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, feelings 🥹

title from Infatuation by I Don’t Know How But The Found Me

Leon carries you into the bathroom and sets you on your feet in the shower. 

“S’gonna be cold,” you scrunch your nose as Leon flips on the taps for the shower.

“It’ll warm up quick,” he winks, turning to go shut and lock the door. 

Walking back, he steps into the tub with you and closes the shower curtain, bodily blocking the water. 

“There,” he smooths his hands down your arms, “I’ll move once it’s warm for you.”

Appreciation thrums warmly in your chest and makes you smile at him, watching as his sandy blonde hair darkens with the water. 

“Thank you,” stepping forward, you tilt your head up, offering your mouth to him in a kiss. 

“Of course, princess,” his low voice creates goosebumps as he dips his head down to press your lips together. 

Sighing into the kiss, Leon slips his tongue inside to lap against your own, sucking the slick muscle into his mouth before pulling away with a quick bite to your lower lip. Spinning you around, he swaps places with you, letting the now warm water sluice down your body making you gasp. 

“Now, didn’t I promise to eat that pretty little cunt, sis?”

“Yess,” you drag out your reply while he kneels down in front of you, blue eyes locked on yours. 

Flicking his gaze down, he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips, baring your cunt to the steamy air. You can still feel the creamy mixture dripping from your hole only to fall into the bottom of the tub and swirl down the drain.

“Fuck, look at this messy little cunt,” he mutters to himself, eyes dilating until the blue is nearly gone, “I love filling you up.”

Leaning forward, he spits on the hood of your clit, using one of his fingers to smear it across the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Gonna lick and kiss this sweet little princess pussy til she’s fucking gushing,” he promises, parting his lips to run his tongue up your cunt, flicking your pudgy clit on the end. 

Shuddering, your hands move down to tangle in his soaked hair, roots darker than the rest as he presses his face into your pussy, tongue lapping at your drooling hole. With a low groan, he licks his own cum from your slick cunt, tongue fluttering deeper into your hole with every thrust of the muscle. 

“Taste like mine,” he growls out, pulling away to spit on your spread open cunt, “got me hard again, baby sis.”

You whimper, eyes dragging down his wet and naked body, skipping past his abs to see his fat uncut cock bobbing between his thick thighs. 

“Leon,” you mewl, pulling his hair and bucking your hips against his face. 

“Mmm yeah, hump my face, baby,” he moves his hands to grab the fat of your ass and pull your cunt into his hungry mouth. 

You lean your head back, water from the shower head running down your heaving chest as you pant wantonly. 

Leon’s tongue slips up from your hole to circle and lap at your sensitive bundle of nerves. He sucks the swollen bud into his mouth with a moan, tongue flattening against it. Rolling your hips, you whine at the perfect pressure on your pudgy clit, little bolts of electric arousal pulsing through your body.

“Big brother,” your nails scratch along his scalp making him groan into your cunt. 

He moves his head away and he chuckles meanly when you try to pull him back. 

“I’m gonna do what I want, baby sis, so stay still,” he nips at your thigh, one hand slipping around to cup your pussy, middle finger pressing against your wet heat.

He pulls his finger out until it rests at the edge of your hole, moving his mouth closer until you can feel his lips press on your slick cunt. You watch and feel as he spits messily inside your pussy, pulling back to smirk at your low disbelieving moan. He leans forward and flutters his tongue into your leaking cunt, spitting noisily into your hole until it’s spilling back out around his lips. 

“Gotta get this tight pretty cunt ready for my fingers, princess,” he chuckles derisively as you whimper and tug on his hair, “what a dirty slut, getting off on her big brother spitting in her hot little pussy.”

“Leon!” You mewl brokenly, tears beading at your waterline from the hot burst of arousal pulsing in your clit and sending chills all over your body, “I’m- I don’t— it’s so much.”

You’re not even able to articulate the sheer want overtaking your mind, eyes still watching as Leon grins at you, the faux innocent look making your nipples tighten in anticipation. 

“Aww, don’t worry, big brother’s here to take care of you,” his hot breath washes over your soaked pussy, tongue darting out to lick up your slit. 

He pulls back and spanks your mound hard. 

“Say thank you, little sis,” his eyes narrow up at you, “or I might just tease you all night.”

“T-thank you, big brother,” you whisper, water almost drowning out your voice— but Leon hears it, humming agreeably before sucking your clit back into his mouth.

He braces his palm above your cunt and uses his thumb to pull back the hood of your clit. His tongue softly kitten licks the swollen bud, soft ohhhs spilling from your throat to echo off the bathroom walls as you roll your hips into the soft caress.

“Good girl,” he croons before spitting a hot glob of saliva onto your pussy, “so good for me, baby.”

With a groan, he shoves his tongue into your fluttering hole, grinding his nose against your clit as he eats you out eagerly. He sporadically spits up into your cunt, chuckling every time as you moan from how dirty it makes you feel. 

“I’m c-close, Leon,” you stutter out, hands cupping his jaw when he pulls away, tongue lathing against your clit as he sits back on his haunches.

“Mmm, then let me see if I can make you squirt,” he smirks, face slick with arousal while his middle and ring finger press against your hole, “I don’t think it’ll take much, this pretty princess cunt is fucking dripping.”

“Please, big brother,” you hiccup a whine, “w’nna cum so bad.”

Using his free hand, he pets across your thigh before tapping it, helping you lift that leg over his shoulder to open up your cunt further. 

“Fuck me,” he whispers to himself, fingers sinking easily into your soaked hole, “love your hot little pussy.”

Moaning, you try to stay still and keep your balance as Leon’s fingers curve upwards to rub against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt. 

“Tight as hell,” he remarks, eyes glued to the apex of your thighs, “c’mon, cream my fingers, baby. Squirt all over your boyfriend’s face.”

“Leon!” You wail, body shuddering all over from his words, pussy walls clamping down on his fingers, slick dripping down his fingers and off his bent wrist; the tight band of arousal in your abdomen so very close to snapping. 

“That’s it, cum for me, show big brother how wet he gets this sexy pussy,” he groans, fingers rubbing and pressing against your g-spot as his thumb softly glides across your clit. 

A few more passes of his fingers inside your cunt sets off your orgasm like a bomb detonating in your body. Not able to move without falling, your back rounds you forward, hands scratching Leon’s back hard enough to leave marks. Your hole gushes slick, pushing his fingers out of your body as your pussy pulses and clenches around nothing while you keep cumming. 

He sucks your clit into his mouth with a low hum, making you scream at the overstimulation. Your nails dig into his back even deeper and he hisses at the pain, the hand that he’d been fingering you with dropping down to his cock. Stroking the swollen length, he tilts his back, sighing at the slight relief from his slick coated palm as he fists his cock. Shakily, you move your leg off of his shoulder, now standing unsteadily on both feet. 

“Goddamn that was hot,” he pants, eyes so dilated they look black as he looks up into your dazed expression, “spit in my mouth, sweetheart, ‘m close to busting a nut.”

White hot arousal makes your clit throb. Leon never asks you to spit on him; it’s always him doing it to you. Catching the motion of his hand, your attention drops down to watch as he fucks his fist, thick cock slipping in and out of the tight tunnel of his fingers while the muscles in his forearms shift. Your hands shift from his clawed up back to his shoulders as he lolls his tongue out.  

You drop your mouth open, letting a line of spit fall from your tongue down onto his. His chest rumbles with a low moan while he tugs you closer.

“Make it messy,” he pants against your lips, “fucking spit on me you little slut.”

Even though Leon just made you cum so hard you squirted, slick wets your pussy with fresh arousal at his words. Pulling back, you spit on his mouth, the hot liquid hitting the corner of his lips and dripping off. 

He laughs a mean low sound, “Good girl, now spit on my cock so I can jerk off faster.”

Nodding, you work your tongue around your mouth before drooling saliva down onto his dick while he holds it steady, cupped in his palm. He smears your spit over his cock, grunting as it throbs in his hand. You shift down onto your knees in front of him, hands skating up his twitching stomach to his chest. 

“What’re you doing?” His question comes out in a gasp as your fingers ghost over his soft pink nipples. 

“Oh fuck,” he huffs out a pained noise, but you see his cock leaking precum as he grips the base. 

“S’this okay?” Your breath comes out shaky as your fingers slowly circle his hardening nipples. 

“God,” his head falls back, showing off his adams apple when he swallows heavily, “didn’t realize how sensitive— fuck.” 

You tweak his pink buds and bite your lip hard as his cock blurts out a sticky rope of cum onto his fist.

“Fuck, g’nna make me cum from this,” his hips flex as he rocks into his hand, fucking the slick tunnel of spit and precum. 

Your clit throbs in time with your heartbeat, eyes watching him shiver and grunt while you play with his nipples. Pinching one bud while you roll the opposite has his eyelashes fluttering, mouth dropping open with a whine. You can’t stop staring at how hard his cock has gotten, fat tip drooling precum everywhere. 

Mouth watering, your eyes snap back up to his face, a half formed thought spilling from your lips. 

“Can I suck your cock?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise for a split second before he grins at you, “Yeah? Wanna get that slutty tongue on my dick, lick me clean?”

Eyes drooping as he speaks, you nod, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. His rough laugh makes you press the dough of your thighs together. 

“How about… sucking my balls, princess? Think we’d both like that better,” he shifts back into the basin of the tub, spreading his thighs and lifting his cock. 

Maneuvering into a better position, you kneel between his legs, pressing a trail light kisses across his body. You place a brief kiss to the base of his cock before your lips drift down to his balls, lightly kissing and licking at the soft skin. 

“Ohh, good girl,” he relaxes against the tub, cock kicking against his leg, “nice and easy, let me really get a feel for that sweet tongue.”

Moaning, you suck one of his balls into your mouth, tongue swirling and lapping against it before you pull away with a soft pop. You repeat the same thing to the opposite one before pulling away and licking up the seam of his sac. Open mouthed kisses let you dart your tongue out against his balls before you try and fit them both into your mouth. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, “don’t think they’re gonna fit, little sis, but keep trying, y’look hot as hell.”

He slowly strokes his cock but then drops his hands down onto your head, bringing you so close to his squishy sac that your nose presses against the bottom of his dick. 

“Warm that cum up, princess, wanna bust a hot load all over your face,” he growls out, eyes watching you heatedly. 

Mewling, the vibrations make his stomach clench, one hand moving up to stroke his cock so fast it’s a blur. 

“Right there, keep your slutty mouth right on my balls as I cum all over your fucking face,” he grits out, hips rocking as he jerks himself off. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters under his breath. 

You feel his balls tighten in your mouth, sac pulsing under you tongue as his cock spurts hot thick cum all over your face and down his shaft. It drips across the bridge of your nose, more spilling down his dick to slip off your lips as you softly suckle on his sac. 

“God that’s good,” he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you away, “wish I could take a picture, so pretty, little sis.”

Instead of wiping it away, he smears his jizz across your lips, thumb pressing into your mouth. 

“Bet your pretty pussy is begging for a nice thick load like this,” he murmurs, eyes narrowed gleefully, “after we wash you off, I’ll stuff that messy wet hole til it’s leaking my cum.”

Whining, you suck on his thumb, cleaning off his spend and running your tongue around the digit. Leon slowly stands up before placing his hands under your arms and helping you up as well. Pins and needles rush through your legs making you slump against him. 

“You okay?” His hands run down your back.

You nod against his chest, “Yeah, my legs are asleep kinda.”

He hums and kneels in front of you again. Softly massaging the muscles, he glides his hands across each of your legs, working out the tingly feeling until you can stand up straight. 

“Better?”

You cup his face in your hands and smile, leaning down to kiss his nose. 

“Much better.”

He joins you back under the shower spray, tilting your face into the water to clean off the rest of his cum. Leaning around you, he grabs his soap, lathering his hands up before running it down and across your shoulders. He spins you out of the water so he can wash you off without the soap rinsing away too quickly. 

The warm water sliding down his back makes him hiss under his breath. Turning his head to look, he snorts a laugh at the scratches you left behind. Leon nuzzles his face against the side of your neck as he runs his hands down your sides. His soapy hands move across your ribs to cup your breasts in each hand. 

“Got me good, princess,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, “maybe should start calling you kitten, hmm?”

The tenuous grasp you had on yourself frays even more as Leon tweaks and pinches your nipples before squeezing the soft fat of your breasts. You moan reedily, the sound spilling from your throat before you can think twice. The soap makes it easier for him to touch and tease your stiff peaks, fingers circling your areola before flicking across your hard nipples. 

“Feels good?” He hums cockily, kissing the side of your neck, “so sensitive aren’t they?”

“Can say the same for you, big brother,” you snark back, so turned on its making you frustrated.

He quickly pulls one hand away, the flat of his fingers coming down in a stinging slap against your mound and swollen clit. That same arm wraps around your waist to keep you from falling as your legs buckle. 

“Behave,” his baritone rumbles against your back, “and stand up, little slut.”

Knees as weak as a newborn foal, you let Leon help you back onto your feet with him supporting most of your weight. Once you're steady against him, he lets go of your waist, fingers trailing down your belly until he’s cupping your pussy. 

“She’s so swollen and wet,” he praises in your ear, fingers teasing along your slit before parting your pussy lips to rub against your slick hole, “feels like she’s ready for big brother to stuff her full.”

Gasping, your hips arch into his hand, “Please, Leon, please, need you so much. Need your cock, big brother.”

He bites down on your shoulder, teeth digging into the muscle while he grinds his stiffening cock against your ass. 

“Eager little sis,” his lips brush across the bite mark left behind, “here, let me give you the tip for now.”

His right hand grabs onto your hip while the left lifts up your left leg by the bend, hooking it over his forearm as he pulls it up towards your side. Once you're balanced, he slips his right hand down to notch the head of his cock against your fluttering hole. You both moan as he sinks the first few inches into your pussy. 

“Squeezing so tight already,” he rocks his hips back until the fat tip is pressed just inside your hole, “want it hard and fast or deep and slow, princess?”

“Deep and slow,” the words tumble out, head falling back against his shoulder, “please.”

“Such a sweet girl,” he coos, flexing his hips to slowly work more of his cock inside your soaked pussy.

Choking on nothing, you whimper and gasp as he finally bottoms out inside your clenching heat. Your fingers dig into his forearms where he’s holding onto your body. With your left leg held up at an angle, his cock grinds right against your g-spot and makes your clit throb from the pleasure. He pants against your ear, water misting over you both as he pulls out halfway to thrust in again. 

“S’good,” you slur, tongue feeling fat and heavy, “you feel so good, Leon.”

“Fucking hell,” he sinks his teeth into your neck, cock kicking inside your pussy as he shakily fucks into your spasming walls. 

“Making it hard for me to take it easy, y’r wet needy pussy’s sucking me in like she’s desperate for cum,” he licks across the indentations his teeth left in your skin before sucking your earlobe into his mouth. 

“Want it,” you moan, “want you to cum in me.”

He snaps his hips up into your soaked cunt before forcefully slowing himself back down. 

“Made for my cock aren’t you princess? You and this sweet little cunt are a perfect fit,” the words pressed against the shell of your ear has your pussy clamping down on his fat dick.

“Uh huh,” you nod, “s’all yours big brother, ‘m all yours.”

He clicks his tongue and ruts his cock in and out of your cunt, tip catching on the edge of your hole before sinking balls deep back into your pussy, “Speak more clearly, little sis.”

The hand holding onto your hip slides down, palm bracing against your mound as his thumb rubs tight circles on your swollen clit. Squealing at the too much feeling, you writhe in his hold. 

“I’m all yours, Leon,” you hiccup a cry, eyes watering from the arousal flowing like molten lava through your veins, “this pussy’s all yours, big brother.”

“Good girl,” his thumb presses more firmly on your pudgy bud, “that’s right, and I’m gonna stuff my girlfriend’s pretty pussy til she can’t take anymore.”

“Please, wanna cum, Leon,” your head hangs down, chin dipping towards your chest as your eyes take in his thumb teasing your clit. 

He kisses the side of your face and you turn to press your lips together. With a growl, he licks into your mouth, tongue messily tasting you. Whining, you suck on the slick muscle, hands coming up to tangle in his hair, opening your body up more. 

“You feel close,” he whispers against your lips, “gonna squeeze my cock with that tight pussy?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” your tongue darts out to lick Leon’s bottom lip, “gonna cum for you.”

“So perfect,” he groans, moving his thumb away to drum his fingers across your clit, “cum for me, baby, work that thick load outta my cock.”

Your voice cracks when you cry out, thighs twitching violently when your orgasm finally hits. Leon’s murmuring into your ear but it’s completely lost to the rush of blood pounding through your head. He eases your leg down, cock still buried inside your cunt as you pulse and flutter around his thick length. 

“Can you stand, Princess?” He asks gently, running his hands across your shaking form. 

“Mmhmm,” you dazedly hum out, aftershocks still making your blood fizz.

“Can you bend forward for me? Brace your arms against the wall so I can finish inside you?” 

His questions make your pussy clench around him tightly; you bend forward, palms splayed out on the shower wall. Groaning, he pulls out and bullies his cock back inside your sensitive hole. 

“Fuck, so pretty,” he mumbles to himself, “perfect pussy, baby, got me addicted. Gonna fill you up and finger it back out so you’ll be empty for next time.”

“Leon,” you mewl, clit thrumming as he picks up the pace, fucking into your cunt rougher and rougher. 

“Such a good girl for me, perfect little sis,” he grabs your hips so tight it hurts, “take it, take it. Fuck, gonna bust a nut deep in this fat wet pussy.”

He curses under his breath and thrusts a few more times before pressing his hips against your ass as he spills hot, thick ropes of cum inside your sore pussy. You whimper softly as Leon kisses across your shoulders, cock kicking and throbbing while he coats your pussy walls with his sticky jizz. 

“So good, god I love you so much.”

You freeze in place, heart hammering double time as he continues to nuzzle and kiss your neck. 

“Y-yeah?” 

Your small voice has him slipping out of you, hands easing you back around to face him. His hair, long since saturated with water, is as dark as his eyes. Using the knuckle of his forefinger, he lifts your chin up so there’s nothing in the way of your gaze. 

“I love you, princess. Not exactly how I planned on letting you know, but it doesn’t make it any less true,” he brushes the water from your cheeks, stare never leaving yours. 

Tears bead at the corner of your eyes, a smile breaking out a cross you face. 

“I love you too,” you sniffle, trying not to cry, “so so much.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him to you. He closes the distance and kisses you hotly, mouth parted to bite down on your bottom before soothing the sting away with his tongue. He tapers the rough kisses down into something softer until you both pull away breathing hard. 

“We should probably clean up and get out,” he flicks water from his fringe, “think it’s starting to get cold.”

“Okay,” you smile, letting your hands fall away from his shoulders. 

Leon quickly and efficiently washes and rinses you both off before bundling you up in a towel and sending you back off to his room as he cleans up the bathroom. You slip into your own room to grab some underwear, but decide to steal one of Leon’s old shirts to sleep in for the night. Crawling into his bed, you tuck yourself under his blankets and snuggle into his extra pillow. 

A few minutes pass and as your eyes start to drift closed while sleep calls your name, Leon finally comes into his room. Pulling on briefs, he tugs back the covers to lay down next to you. 

“Hi,” he grins at you, turning on his side to pillow his head onto his arm.

“Hi,” you feel full of warmth from your head to your toes, “‘m pretty tired.”

He laughs, “Then go to sleep.”

Humming, he pulls you into his chest, free arm wrapping around your upper back. 

“Since tomorrow’s the weekend, no rush in waking up, right?” You mumble into his pecs. 

“Right,” he agrees, rubbing his hand up and down your back, lulling you even closer to sleep. 

Body sagging as you relax against him, you hear him press a kiss to the top of your head before being pulled under by the complete need to rest. 

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

[drunkinyourbenz]

reunited

summary: you’re billie’s girlfriend of just over a year and you surprise her on tour after not seeing her for weeks. dom billie x fem reader 2.1k words warnings: oral (reader receiving), teasing, so so fluffy they're cute and in love <3, unedited

billie was on stage performing, and you could see the adrenaline and excitement literally radiating off her. the crowd was wild—which billie always loved—and this was possibly the best show of the tour so far. the energy was unmatched, and you were in awe of how beautiful and free she always looked onstage. you loved seeing her interact with her fans and sing her heart out, it was a truly beautiful sight. 

billie was totally unaware of the fact that you were backstage, and you watched her perform with a fond smile on your face—you and her had been dating for a little over a year, and it had been the best year of your entire life. 

she’d been on tour for the past month, and it was probably the longest time you’d spent apart since you confessed your feelings to her. you’d called every night and texted constantly, and there’d been a fair share of phone sex when you’d both been too needy to wait until you saw each other in person again. 

but now you were here, backstage at her concert, listening to her gorgeous voice and watching her with a wide smile as she sang the last song. 

finneas and maggie had helped you get here without her knowing, finneas making sure to tell you all about the extent to which she had complained about missing you. maggie had been incredibly happy when you created the group chat to suggest the surprise, clearly glad that her daughter had finally found someone willing to put in effort for her. to say you were her family’s favourite of everyone she’d dated would be an understatement. 

the concert eventually ended, and billie walked backstage while speaking to finneas. her sentence was cut off when she saw you standing there, doing a double take as her eyes widened. her steps halted, and she stared at you with an open mouth for a second before coming to her senses. as soon as her feet were no longer locked to the floor, she was running towards you.

her arms wrapped around you, the momentum of her running to you making the two of you do a little spin as you grabbed onto each other. she clung onto the fabric of your shirt as she buried her head in your neck. she breathed in deeply, savouring the feeling of being close to you again. 

after a few minutes, she finally pulled away from the embrace, looking at you with a soft look in her eyes. “you’re here, oh my god. you came. you have no idea how happy this makes me…” 

you smiled at her, finneas nudging your shoulder as he walked past with a small grin directed at the two of you. you rolled your eyes fondly at him before speaking, “of course i did. couldn’t go another month and a half without you.” 

finneas sent you a pointed look, glancing between you and billie. “okay, lovebirds. i want to point out that i helped her get here, by the way.”

billie grinned at her brother, “you’re my second favourite person in the world, finneas.” 

with a faux offended expression, finneas gasped dramatically. “i feel so betrayed. your own brother, replaced at number two?” 

billie still had her arm wrapped around your shoulders, and she pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “obviously.” 

finneas rolled his eyes, starting to walk away to find claudia, “wow, i didn’t know the lack of love you had in your heart for me. i’m leaving.” 

billie laughed as he walked away, not gracing his overdramatic words with a response. she turned to you, her eyes shining slightly. “god, baby… can’t believe you’re here…” 

you smile at her, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. billie’s lips chased after your own when you moved to pull away, kissing you desperately, never wanting to let go. after a moment, she pulls back, gazing into your eyes. “mmm, i’ve wanted to do that for the last two months. never stopped thinking about how your lips feel on mine.” 

you grinned playfully at her, “i bet you thought about how my lips feel somewhere else, too.” 

billie’s mouth fell open for a moment at your bold words, but the surprise was quickly replaced by a smirk, her eyes trailing down your body. 

“you know me so well…” her hands quickly found your waist, her thumbs rubbing soft circles on the bare skin between the waistband of your pants and the hem of your shirt. her tongue darted out to lick her lips, her eyes still locked on yours. “y’know, i think my dressing room should be empty for a while…” 

you mirrored her smirk at her words, picking up on the less than subtle innuendo as her eyes continue to trail up and down your figure. “yeah? lead the way, pretty.” 

her smirk widened, instantly intertwining your fingers together and pulling you to follow her. any other day, her hand probably would’ve been around your wrist, in a firmer, more possessive hold. but she was still in shock that you were even there with her, so she was being slightly  softer with you than normal. she was holding your hand as if she thinks you’d disappear if she were to hold you too harshly, like you’d just fade away and she’d be alone again. 

she wasn’t talking about it, but you knew she missed you more than she was letting on. every day without you had felt like absolute torture, and her family had watched her on the tour bus literally falling apart just because you weren’t there. the constant face-timing couldn’t compare to the feeling of your hand in hers, she was fully convinced that no feeling would ever make her feel more at peace than being close to you.

you arrived at her dressing room sooner than you’d thought you would, and she fumbled with the door handle for a second too long, before pulling you inside after her. 

her hand moved to lock the door, and you knew you were in for it. she wasn’t going to be rough, no, not this time. but this could be soft and still torturous. 

once the door was locked, she turned to you, giving you a smirk as she looked you up and down for a moment before slowly backing you into the wall. she pressed you against the wall and you didn’t even try to resist, a soft smile on your lips. you couldn’t deny how soft this felt, you were aware of the small differences in her actions—as if the time apart had made her scared of losing you.

she kissed you again, more urgently than the last. her tongue brushed along your bottom lip before she bit at it softly, leading to you opening your mouth in a gasp. she smiled against your lips and slipped her tongue inside your mouth, her body pressing closer against yours as she kept you against the wall. her knee pressed up between your thighs and a moan spilled out of your lips. 

her hands found your waist, her cool fingers slowly creeping up underneath the hem of your shirt as her tongue continues to explore your mouth. her hands travelled further up under your shirt, leaving trails of goosebumps where she touched. one hand teasingly squeezed at your breast through your bra and the other deftly pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it on the ground somewhere—she couldn’t care less where it landed. 

she let one of her hands snake around your back to the clasp of your bra, which she fumbled with for a moment out of her eagerness. soon, your bra had joined your shirt and her hands were drawn to your breasts like magnets. she seemed almost hypnotised, her eyes drinking in everything they’d been missing while the two of you had been apart. she gave one of your nipples a teasing tweak before her hands slowly trailed down your sides. 

one of her hands moved to hook in the loop of your jeans. she seemed impatient, despite clearly wanting to take her time. she wanted to savour this reunion, but she also wanted to be between your thighs as soon as she possibly could. 

moments later, she’d repositioned you so you were lying on the couch, your back propped up slightly by pillows. her hands had tugged your jeans halfway down your legs, and you impatiently kicked them off to join your shirt on the floor. 

she settled between your legs, looking up at you with her signature grin before hooking her index finger around your panties and pulling them down your thighs. she carelessly chucked them behind her somewhere, assuming they’d land in the vicinity of your other discarded clothes. in all honesty, where your underwear landed was the least of her concerns—she’d much prefer if you never wore them ever again. 

her ring-clad hands firmly grip your thighs, pulling them apart and leaving no room for argument—not that you wanted to argue. this was what you’d been waiting for for months. “billie, please–” the utter desperation, the pleading tone in which you spoke to her, brought a smirk to billie’s lips. she pressed soft, open mouthed kisses around your thighs, holding eye contact with you. 

“yeah, baby? what do you need?” you whined, an honestly pathetic sound—but you didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, you needed your girlfriend. billie didn’t care about the patheticness of it all either, in fact, it seemed to make her lips twitch further up into a pleased smirk. she loved having you desperate, having you aching for her. 

you finally managed to form the words to respond to her, “you, billie, your mouth, your fingers, i don’t care. You.”

her smirk widened, her kisses travelling ever so slightly closer to where she knew you needed her. she hummed softly, the noise sending vibrations along your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. her teeth nipped softly at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, a teasing smirk on her face as she looked up at you. 

“yeah, pretty girl? you need me?” 

you didn’t get time to respond before she was licking a stripe up your folds, still gripping your thighs firmly. her tongue travelled up to your clit and circled it, making you let out a moan and throw your head back onto the couch cushions. you had missed her. so, so much.

she held your thighs open when they threatened to close around her head, a particularly tantalising lick through your folds making your back arch up off the couch slightly. she smirked again, looking up at you with those eyes that held a sort of smug mischief in them. she knew exactly what to do to drive you crazy, and she was intending on doing just that. 

“oh? you like that?” 

you hummed softly, nodding quickly because you couldn’t quite form words but you needed her to know that you very much liked it. you felt hopeless, the desperation you felt was unlike any you’d felt in a long time. you decided to blame that on the extensive time apart, which had felt like torture. 

her tongue continues its assault on you, lapping away at you like a starved woman—with the time you’d been separated for tour, you guessed she kind of was. one hand moved slightly from its grasp on your thigh, and she circled your clit in a way that made you throw your head back and let out a low moan. she felt your thighs shudder slightly around her head, and you felt her lips twitch up against her sensitive skin. she knew you were close, she could feel it. 

she spoke, still pressed up against you so she could go right back to eating you out after she got the words out, “that’s a good girl, cum for me.” 

at her words, you let out another loud moan, head falling back onto the support of the couch cushions as your long awaited release came over you. you had just spent months without her, without her touch, without her love, and you felt the relief wash over you at the knowledge that you were finally close to her again. 

billie smirked again as she felt you cum on her face, her tongue riding you through it as she lapped up your juices. she had missed this. 

you breathe deeply for a moment, before finally bringing yourself to lift your head up off the couch cushions and make eye contact with her. she had that proud smirk on her face as she watched you from in between your thighs, “feel good, pretty?” 

you manage a small grin at her, “very much so.” you paused, looking at her for a moment as you recovered from the intense feeling of your first orgasm from her in months. you spoke again, a playful smirk playing on your lips. “my turn now.” 

after all, the night was young. the night was young and you were finally together again, you had all the time in the world.

this is unironically the first smut i’ve ever written sooo i hope you liked it…