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nsharks · 3 days ago

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-seven —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

It is difficult to tell who lifts the mask.

You think you start it, then he finishes it with a shove up to his nose.

Your mouth claims his, ivy to stone.

His lips part for your tongue as your arms loop around his shoulders. His fingers dig in your scalp, sharp enough to draw a hiss, while his other arm yanks you closer by the waist, heat searing against your bare skin. It's not a kiss—too unruly for that. His tongue grazes your chin; you taste the edge of his nose. The world narrows to the harsh sound of your breathing, the scrape of your teeth, a tangible truth:

You want him, too.

He pulls back with one great heave of breath just after the tear on your lip is reopened. A strand of pink-tinted saliva connects you. His eyes search your face, hesitation flickering in his gaze. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I clearly just did.”

His jaw tightens. “I need words. Tell me you understand what you—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and need. “Don’t act like I can’t make my own decisions. Like I can’t handle you.” Rising on your toes, you bite his lip, hard enough to draw a matching drop of blood. “I’ve handled you before—Simon."

A shudder wrenches his shoulders.

Your words rip a growl from his throat, snapping the last of his restraint.

His kiss devours you, raw and unforgiving, until everything else fades to red. Not blood, but something else, something you’ve kept hidden for longer than you care to admit. It burns in your chest—the terrifying realization that you might break if you don’t have him here and now.

His grip on your hair shifts to your thigh, lifting you with ease. Tree bark bites into your spine. You trail kisses down his jaw to the hollow below his ear. Your ankles lock around his waist, dragging up his shirt. The metal buckle of his belt presses where you ache, the friction drawing a sharp gasp. Even through the layers, he feels impossibly thick.

He forces your neck to the side, mouth sucking down your throat to your collarbone with urgent deliberation, as if he wants to memorize every inch but realizes neither of you possess the patience for it. He licks, then bites, the pain making your hips angle in upward seeking. Your reaction pulls a smirk from him. His teeth and tongue glide lower, and he hikes your damp bra up to expose your breasts.

"Fucking hell." A guttural exhale before hand and mouth devours them.

Thought evaporates.

Your chest turns sheen with spit.

You thrash against the tree, your nipple caught between his teeth. He teases it with a graze, then sinks in.

Heat punches the pit of your stomach with a ferocity that makes you cry out.

You claw at the back of his mask. "I need...I need—more."

He groans, low, staving the bite mark with his tongue. This time when he rolls the other nipple between teeth, it is in combination with two fingers slipping under your underwear. The muscles in your thigh jerk. A rough finger grinds circles into your clit, and another glides through the wet seam of you. It is impossible not to fight for more. Delirious with greed, you cant your hips down to slip his middle finger inside.

He takes the hint and works a second finger into you. Your legs tighten around him in unending tremors that must make keeping his arm between your bodies uncomfortable, his wrist straining to reach you. Arousal leaks steadily onto his hand. You turn less vocal now that you're close, vision failing you, and he tongues at the shell of your ear with a growl.

"I'm not going to fuck you until you cum."

"I'm—"

Strong fingertips curl into the sensitive pad within you, coaxing an orgasm much stronger than the one you gave yourself. It beats through your blood in hot bursts, robbing you of the ability to keep your head up. You lean onto his shoulder, feeling it flex as he fucks his fingers once, twice, then three more times before drawing them out. Through the haze, you hear the drag of his tongue over them and then a soft wet release.

"You will give me more of that."

A flush consumes your face. Your lips part to speak; you can't—

"What happened to my mouthy girl?" he taunts in a murmur.

His tone snaps the world into focus. "She's here."

"I thought she could handle me."

You lift your head to narrow your gaze at his, despising the tick in his brow. "You are insufferable."

"Ah. There she is. I was worried I lost her."

The striking awareness that you are almost naked, while he is fully clothed head-to-toe, suddenly irritates you. You curl your fingers around the fabric bunched by his ear. "Take this off. I've already seen you. It's pointless now."

"You'll have to take it off yourself."

You’re about to move when he pins your wrist to the tree, then the other. A silent challenge. You squirm, but it only drags the belt across your sensitive cunt, making you hiss. You've been here before—restrained by him. But this time, his weakness is clear, a heavy, undeniable pressure pressing against you.

You nudge your nose against his and kiss the taste of yourself from his mouth with slow, ribbing strokes of your tongue. The change in pace makes him sigh into you. You give a swirl of your hips, grinding into him, staggering his breath. When he attempts to press again, seeking relief between the join of hip and thigh, you still your movements. He growls, squeezing your wrists.

In his next try, you unlock your ankle and jab a knee into his ribs.

He flinches, but doesn't loosen his grip, laughing softly. "A valiant attempt," he mutters.

"Shut up," you mumble, breath huffing out of you.

"Was that your entire plan?"

"I'm not fucking you until it's off, you know."

"Make more of an effort, then."

Fine.

You run your tongue slowly over your lip, offering a teasing shift of your hips. His throat bobs, a quick, instinctive response. Your thighs tighten around his torso, holding firm. "You are needy for this, too, Simon. Don't act like I am the only one." Your voice comes out hoarse, almost foreign. You move your hips in a steady rhythm, your lips finding the tender skin just above his collarbone. "I bet I could make you cum, just like this. You won't even need to be inside me."

It is an experiment, really, but the thundering of his heart confirms your claim. With your panties bunched to the side, your arousal glides over him, staining his jeans. He matches your movements with firm presses at the base of his clothed-cock. You taste the pulsing vein beneath your tongue, swirling and nibbling, a smoldering heat blossoming in your stomach once more.

"I touched myself thinking about you," you whisper into his skin, ego swelling when his breath stills, then rushes out from his nose. "My fingers didn't feel nearly as good as yours." You purposely moan, almost a whine. Impossibly, he feels harder. Swelling towards release. His skin feels hotter. You nose the underside of his jaw. "You're going to cum soon, aren't you? I can tell. I haven't even taken off any of your clothes yet and you're going to cum. How does it feel to be weak for me?"

His jowls flex from your words and his hips buck with a mindlessness that makes you smile. The heat between you is obliterating. It almost crumbles your vengeance. But when he digs his nails into your wrists with a slight tremble, ashen lashes fluttering, you interrupt the moment before he can finish.

You bite the skin where his throat meets his jaw and kick his ribs again. His eyes snap open, his hold faltering. He stumbles back, and you grapple his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. You fall on top of him, knees bracketing his hips, fingers moving swiftly to tear off the mask.

For a few seconds, you merely stare at each other, like a deer gazing at a hunter.

Face to face, truly, for the first time.

His face, flushed red, is even more handsome like this—rugged and scarred, bared at your mercy beneath you. It makes your heart falter over a beat. His hands drag down the notches of your spine, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact. Because you’re paying such close attention, you catch it—a sweeping glint in his gaze. Admiration, maybe. Or just lust.

You swallow thickly and give a tug to his shirt.

He rips it over his head.

You finish yanking the damp bra off.

Your underwear is next.

When you're both bare, exposed and raw, jeans bunched awkwardly at his ankles, the game ends. Neither of you are willing to play anymore. His fingers tighten around your hips as you grip his cock, heavy and slick with the evidence of the edge he was pulled from. You drag the fat head of him through your folds, just once, before lining him up with your hole and sinking down.

Pain flares. Either because it has been years since you've been stretched like this, or because he is just that thick. You hiss through your teeth and pause halfway down, scratching over the hard plane of his chest in search of relief. You feel him deep already, uncomfortably so, and his touch softens over your skin despite the veins sticking out in his neck.

"Take it slow."

"I can handle it."

"It's alright if you can't," his voice softens over the gravel in it.

"I can."

Stubbornly, you take another centimeter, then another, before slamming all the way down, the full length of him breaking through the last layer of resistance until you are fully seated. The press of his fingers into your ass is as rough as the exhale that follows. You feel him twitch within you, his balls heavy and tight, but he allows you the time to adjust, slowly rocking your hips until the discomfort teeters toward pleasure.

He is so big that the tip of him reaches a crevice between your inner wall and cervix. When your pace quickens, the pressure of his pubic bone on your clit makes your body quake with one fierce tremor. You fail to keep yourself upright, the jolt of it bringing your face to his neck. Strong arms flex around you, hands bracing your shoulder blades, to keep you anchored against his chest as his hips cant up to drive him—somehow—deeper. He is in you and around you. All at once. Every inch of grey rot living in you is replaced with damning hunger for him. You swirl and grind and bite his neck, breaking capillaries.

"That's it, yeah." The raw grit in his voice makes your muscles clench around the base of him. "Take what you need."

When his firm, neatly corded muscles begin to quiver, his movements lose their precision. He is trying to hold back from the ledge you left him on. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking you back from his neck, and his teeth sink into the tender skin below your ear as a distraction. His breaths come hot and quick, cooling the sweat slicking your skin.

You feel like a conglomerate of broken pieces about to be shattered, every carefully stitched seam straining, ready to snap. Your eyes roll back. Your toes flex and curl. You are so close—

Without warning, and all too soon, he lifts you off.

"Fuck—"

His cock bobs between your bodies, liquid heat frothing over your stomach in pulses. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted to let out a noisy rush of air, all of the hardened lines on his face unwoven in the wake of pleasure. You hover over him, blades of grass indented into your knees, watching with silent fascination despite the frustrated fizzle of your own approaching orgasm. When his eyes reopen, they are glazed and unfocused, yet somehow he had more wherewithal to remember pulling out than you did.

Then, he flips you over with a heaving push, cock still hard. You are neatly caged by the sprawl of his muscle, reminded that he easily could've overtaken you before if he wanted to.

"I can go again." It sounds as if he has to dig the words out with great effort, still breathless.

You reach between your bodies to keep his slippery cock at bay near your thigh. "We can't. It wouldn't be safe after you just—just came."

His lashes flutter in resignation, a firm nod as he dips his head to your collarbones. He rests it there for a moment, likely ignoring the ache in his cock that vies for more attention, and you stare down at the flexing brawn of his back, at the firm swell of his ass. Then he kisses your sternum, over your heart, and sucks his way down the soft curve of your abdomen, gentle, chapped lips against faded bruises.

When he reaches the raw flesh between your thighs, he lifts your legs and urges your feet on his back. His nose nudges your clit, inhaling deeply the scent of where you'd just been joined, and your breath hitches in anticipation.

He kisses you here, a curious circle of his tongue around your clit that mimics his finger, before sliding through the slippery seam. When you fist his hair and dig your heels into his shoulders, his gentleness ceases. He closes his entire mouth on you, working furiously to reignite the heat from your spine, which arches off the ground in desperation, driving your puffy cunt harder against the pad of muscle. You grind your hips in combination with pulling on his hair, keeping his tongue right where you need it. It strokes your hole, pushing in and out.

"That's so good, Ghost. So good. I'm—"

You cum hard on his tongue, free hand fisting the grass. It is less of a precipice that you fall off of, and more a crashing wave, like the one you nearly drowned in, but this time you let it sweep you, searing white through the backs of your eyelids. He keeps his tongue there to catch the leakage with an obscenely wet sound you barely hear over the ringing in your ears. By the time it fades, you feel wrecked, spit out on the shore, your mind blank. The wave recedes.

You hear a soft grunt and then his forehead drops on your sticky belly. The tremor in his shoulders indicates his own release, which he emptied in the grass.

You lay together like this for minutes.

Fingers mindless against his scalp.

Staring at the sky.

Awareness slowly seeps in as the sound of fluttering birds and the quiet ripples over the creak.

The hum of life returns around you. You'd almost forgotten where you were or how you got here. How long has it been? Your fingers slacken in his hair as you gaze around, the silent trees your only witness, and the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon. The understanding sinks in that you are both absent, and returning together at dark would—

The thought is tucked away when strong arms lift you up, scooping under the crook of your knees.

He is able to walk steadily even when you aren't certain you could.

He carries the mess of your body to the water. The peaceful warmth of it converges over you, highlighting the soreness that you were able to ignore in the throes of it all. Wordlessly, and with a thoughtful crease between his brow, he holds you up with one arm while scrubbing your stomach with the other, rinsing off his essence. It is not an uncomfortable silence, just a thick one, only broken by little drips of water as he cleans you with more intent than you did the first time.

You try to piece together everything in your mind, but the thoughts slip through your fingers like the water. You don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling—a stark contrast to the clarity you found in the heat of him only minutes ago. His body has always been the more decipherable part of him, but now even the stiffness in his shoulders feels like a cipher you can’t crack.

When he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your damp hair, it doesn’t feel affectionate, exactly. It’s not distant, either—just tender in a way you’re not sure how to interpret. The gnawing questions fill your brain: When was the last time he did this with someone? How many more times will you do it together? Not just once, he said. But what does that mean?

Why do you feel hesitant to ask, even though you were just brindled with confidence while riding his cock?

You try to wipe his own stomach but he brushes your fingers away and does it himself, nodding his chin toward your clothes. "Get dressed. You'll go first."

"Huh?"

"They think I am scouting up ahead right now. I'll be back later."

"Oh," you say, not able to conjure a meaningful response.

He raises an eyebrow at you but offers nothing else except a gentle thumbing over hair that sticks to your cheek. You follow his directions, returning to the grassy bank while the cool air prickles your wet skin. You feel his heavy stare as he watches you towel off, trying to ignore the obvious marks on your hips, stomach, ass, and collarbones. They taunt you with a blush to your cheeks. Luckily, when you slip on the oversized shirt, the majority of them are concealed, your hair finishing the job of covering your neck.

You've no idea what hour it could be when you return, feigning nonchalance, but the setting sun means Ghost won't be out there much longer. In his absence, you feel colder than the temperature truly is. The deep ache that ebbs and flows with each step proves him right. There is no going back after this. No—you will still be able to feel him, like a phantom, even when the soreness between your legs fades. What you are meant to do about that fact is something you can sort through later when you have the state of mind for it.

Will you ever have the state of mind for it?

You push the voice away and keep your gaze lowered as you approach Nereida, returning the borrowed soaps. The others are gathered around the fire—Kyle eating, Blue and Ari laughing about something, while Price hunches over the map, finalizing tomorrow’s route.

"Was it relaxing?" she asks.

"Hm?"

You blink, bringing your gaze to her, and only now realizing that it is still rather droopy and blurred, the look in her eyes barely in focus as she tilts her head. "Your bath," she clarifies.

"Oh. Mhm." You nod, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, it was just what I needed. I'm actually, um, rather tired now. I think I will sleep early."

She drags her eyes over you, causing your weight to shift, before she returns the smile. "Sounds like a good idea. Long day tomorrow. You should eat first, though."

"Right," you concede, tongue to cheek.

Ghost returns in the midst of you shoveling beans into your mouth, knees tucked to your chest in front of the flames, and his silence as usual. He reports to Price about the clear motorway, his voice clinical, but you catch the subtle roughness beneath it—something no one else would notice, the only detectable trace of what you shared. What you told Nereida wasn't a lie, you feel robbed of energy, and can hardly muster the strength to tie your dried hair in two braids before tucking yourself in a sleeping bag, staring dazedly at the oncoming stars.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #cod #simon ghost riley #zombie apocolypse au

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silknspice · 2 days ago

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GOOD FOR THE HEART

country! vi x reader fluff, angst, smut (18+), slow(?)burn, wc. 13.6k

synopsis: an intimate bond forms between an ill farmer's daughter, desperate for a taste of the outside world, and the helpful part-timing cowgirl at the farm. OR vi wants you bad, and what better way to get to know you than sneak you around town?

content warnings: illness, NOT read over, foul language, smut so mdni/18+, fingering r!receiving, controlling parent, health worries, fainting, slight insecurity, emotional rollercoaster but a fun one!!

Vi could strip naked right here, right now.

And with her well known spontaneous personality, she would. Especially under the hundred degree heat that preys upon her and forces the girl’s freckled skin to glisten. But a: she’s with her siblings (enough said), and b: she’s working outdoors at the Laurier’s farm. Meaning only a handful of yards away, tucked in that blue, yellow, and white idyllic house covered with blooming botanical life, stands Mr. Laurier’s orphic daughter.

That’s all Violet’s ever heard about you, from children playing on the street to adults roaming the town shops. Ever since her adoptive father suggested she take this summer job before she goes back to focusing on her college work. Ever since her siblings and family friend jumped to tag along after Mr. Laurier decided ‘the more the merrier’.

All that’s been filling Violet Lane's ears is information about you, or, the lack thereof. How you’re always locked up in that big residence. How you used to roam the town just like any other little rascal until five years ago, at the age of thirteen, when something out of her knowledge occurred. How stunning you look in a sundress. She tried to block that one out.

“Why is it that Mylo’s drivin’ the tractor and not me?” Powder complains, pulling her clenched hand from the bag of chicken feed and tossing it on the ground for the horde to gobble.

“Last time you tried to drive something I started praying.” Ekko throws out. His bun shaped hair bobbles as he finally pulls that one stubborn carrot from the ground and places it in the basket.

“Besides Pow,” Violet starts, lifting a heavy brown box onto her shoulder and cradling it with just one arm. “You’re doin’ fine taking care of the animals. Mylo would be scaring them to death.” The pink haired girl sighed out, looking around.

Her gaze landed on the decorated porch, and she pursued. Vi set the last of the boxes down with a soft grunt before straightening her back and lifting her arms, clasped at the fingers, over her head to get a well-deserved stretch.

The worker’s completely regretting her chosen position as the door swings open, and she looks heaven right in the eyes.

You stand there in a white lace sundress covered in a juicy red pattern of cherries, a smile sweet enough to give a sugar high plastered on your stunning face. Vi’s gaze flickers down to your feet covered by red country boots. Above those are your soft looking hands holding a gift basket. When she’s done examining you, her blue-gray eyes trail their way back to yours– and it’s like whiplash. Once again, she’s blinded by those pearly whites and the tasty perfume radiating off of you. God help me, is the only phrase filling her mind because damn you’re ethereal.

“Hi there, cowgirl.” You’re going to send Vi into cardiac arrest with just your voice. Thankfully, she realizes she needs to respond, and quickly wipes the dopey grin (that she wasn’t aware she had) off of her face.

It’s not like everything is peaches and cream on your end. The girl’s tight white t-shirt is grasping onto her glistening biceps, her pretty bright eyes and the freckles that decorate her nose make her look blessed by the sun, and seeing such a beautiful yet handsome woman in a cowboy hat is doing foreign things to your stomach. ‘Wow’, is all your wandering mind formulates.

“Hi there, miss Laurier,” she copies you in her lower voice, and you notice the slit on her lip as it curls up into a soft smirk. You shake your head at her words with a polite smile, insisting she call you by your name, which you offer up. She repeats it once perfectly, claiming it ‘rolls right off the tongue’, and you crack a smile.

“My father informed me that you’re the new help around here for the summer, so I decided to bake somethin’ for the five of you.” You’re sticking out the basket, decorated with a pink bow on top, for Vi to take. She does and quickly takes a peek inside. Five snickerdoodle cookies and one large cherry pie. You do stay on theme, and so, it starts.

“Thank you, cherry.” she cracks a smile that sends a shock down your body, and gently tips her hat.

Fourteen searing days pass on that farm, days filled with laughter, hard work, and the smell of life from the surrounding plants.

But not for you.

For each of those fourteen days, for the past one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, you’ve sat sideways in your window with your back against one side and your legs propped up on the wood. You read, journaled, book pressed flowers (that you had to sneak out front to get), took much needed resting breaks, tended to your pet lamb Daisy, and watched Footloose. Your sock-covered feet subtly shuffled side to side as if you were mimicking their dance moves in your head.

Vi watched as you sat there all those days in your open window. Half of your body out in the fresh air and half cooped back up inside like the past five years of your life. It was as if you yearned to experience life completely outside the window, but you couldn’t. And so, you completed your daily activities the furthest away you could get.

Until your eighteenth birthday came along.

��Lord, can you focus instead of stalking your ‘cherry’,” Ekko mimics the pinkett’s voice with the last two words, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Bet she wants to pop her cherry.” Mylo snickers at his own joke, earning a slap to the nape from Claggor.

“Last warning Mylo. Don’t talk about her like that.” she replies firmly, furrowed brows making a little scowl.

Claggor shakes his head softly, letting the tension between his siblings diffuse before speaking. “You know, you should do something other than just stare at her all day. It’s getting sad.”

“Like?” the cowgirl responds with crossed arms.

“Ask her to hang out, obviously.” Powder pipes up, petting a sheep as she prepares to guide it inside the barn. “She’s always lookin’ so lonely. Swear the only time she smiled this past week was when you complimented her on those blackberry muffins she baked us.”

“You know she’s not supposed to come out, Laurier said so. Pretty sure that’s why she stays upstairs, can’t even come out on the porch when we’re here no more.” Violet huffs.

“You think he thinks we’re a bad influence on her?” Ekko ask in confusion. Because truth be told, no one knew why you stayed locked up in that bright house, like a princess trapped in a tower. People knew better than to ask your father, and of course, they couldn’t get to you. Maybe it was time for someone to be your knight in shining armor.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s not even here right now.” Mylo insists.

So, after a long back and forth conversation of weighing the possibilities, Violet’s shoved over to the shrubs in front of your second story window. You notice her when she’s there (you’ve been sneaking glances at her every so often), shifting your position so that you can look down on her as she calls out your name.

“Afternoon, cowgirl,” you coo, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Hey there, angel,” she simply replies with that signature smile, and your hands clench the frame you’re leaning on a bit tighter. “We’re done with the chores for today.”

“Oh. Well, get home safely.” you hum, eyes dropping in what Vi hopes is discontent, because her next words will cheer you right up.

“Actually, we’re not headed home just yet. The five of us are headed out into the woods over there for a little.. chat." The glowing sunlight illuminates her face as she nods her head to Mylo, who’s allowing the brown paper bag to peek out of his backpack and into your vision. Alcohol. “Would you wanna come with us? Won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.” she asks with a cool voice but a pounding, fearful heart.

No.

Or at least, that’s what you were supposed to say. It’s what you’d normally say. As much as your ill heart ached to connect with others, as much as you wanted to venture out of your home, as much as this strawberry-haired helper made you want to explore new things you’d only ever seen in movies, your answer always had to be no.

But, unbeknownst to the others, today was your birthday. You had cautiously lived another year, and instead of feeling fulfilled, you only wonder how many you have left.

You wanted to live, not survive.

You stared in contemplation before backing up, shutting the window and rushing out of the girl’s sight.

Vi dropped her head down to the shrubs in front of her. It’s over. She blew it.

“You scared her!” Ekko teased, making the girl whip her head around to show an angry stare. But the displeased expression faded faster than it formed when the creaking of that back door met her ears, and Powder gasped in joy and disbelief.

“Lead the way.”

The walk along the trail of the woods to a more secluded area with cut wood stumps as seats was anything but quiet. Powder was talking your ear off about everything mechanic she worked on, treating you like you were from the middle ages rather than just sheltered. Claggor and Mylo were leading, causing the group numerous wrong turns and unplanned ‘shortcuts’ (they’d gotten lost along the way). Vi walked with Ekko on her left, quietly pumping her up and giving her the confidence she’d need to ‘make her move’.

But despite the various noises, she couldn’t hear anything. Because strolling to her right was you, the girl she’s been infatuated with since first glance. She’s trying to be discreet, examining the way your hair falls, your scent, the way you press your lips together in thought before answering a question. It took the platinum blonde boy next to her elbowing her side before she came back to the real world.

“I call first sip,” Powder squeaks, to which Violet scoffs, making a quip about how she’s only sixteen and scolding anyone who attempts to offer her the bottle. The bluenette brings up the fact that the others aren’t even the legal drinking age either, but it’s shut down because ‘an adult is an adult’.

“We’ll bring a juice box for you next time.” Mylo smirks, taking a long drag from the bag before offering it out to you.

Despite the soft urge, you shake your head, because you know your limits. Your heart’s limits. Despite the fact that you’re ignoring the sweatiness of your palms and feeble limbs.

Mylo hums. “Two juice boxes, then.”

“Mylo–” Vi scolds, finally coming out of her trance.

But her anger is cut short at the sound of a hearty chuckle coming from your mouth. And it’s the first time Vi’s ever heard you laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s enough to bring stars to her already-bright eyes.

The conversation continues as the sun and clouds pass by. Eventually, the others are in a heated debate about the best character in some film you’ve never heard of, leaving you and Violet to shyly shift your attention towards each other.

“I’m glad you came. I noticed you.. don’t get out much?” Her tone is the gentlest it’s ever been.

“I’m glad you invited me.” You easily avert her indirect question. It eats you alive, the want to tell her everything about you. How you have a “bad heart” as your father gently put it, and now you live your days mundanely so as to not risk triggering anything fatal. But the desire to live just one day in normalcy is stronger, and so you change topics.

“You have very big muscles. I like them. Is that why you do most of the lifting things rather than herding cattle and such, like other cowgirls?”

Vi feels her cheeks get toasty at the compliment and your almost-awkward forwardness. But you can’t help it, you’ve hardly had conversations with anyone but your father the past few years, let alone a handsome girl so close in age. It doesn’t matter much though, because Vi loves it.

“Not a real cowgirl. I’m only good for lifting what others can’t.” She chuckles a bit. “I just happen to own a horse— and I wear the hat of course… maybe the belt’s a little cowgirl-like too, but that’s all.”

You smirk because that makes her a cowgirl in your book, but you politely hum and say nothing.

The girl shifts her position to turn towards you more, and you swear your heart stops when one of her manspread knees leans against your crossed ones and makes no attempt to move. She examines your behavior, and when she sees the ghost of a smile on your lips, she leans on her opened legs slightly to get more comfortable.

“So what do y’ do in that big house all day, angel? Must get lonely.”

These nicknames are doing terribly good things to you.

You hum. She’s completely correct, but the last thing you want is for her to pity you. “Bake a lot, shop in the catalogs, watch movies, write in my books.” You shrug. “Oh, and I take care of my Daisy girl.” A smile graces your perfect lips.

“That your dog? Never seen her around,” she asked with questioning brows.

“No,” you giggle, sending Vi into heaven. So beautiful. “It’s my lamb.”

A beat passes before she responds, a glint in her eye. “So I should be calling you Bo Peep?” she jokes.

You laugh, knocking your knees against hers in playful scolding. Simple words, simple touches, a simple gathering that may be day to day life for anyone else in the town. But for you, this was the best thing to happen in years.

“Daisy’s a sweet name, matches her sweetheart of an owner.” she compliments you, and you graze your hand over your heart because you can’t decipher why it’s speeding up. “We sound real rugged compared to you. Our dog’s name is Rusty. Powder ch–”

“Hey!”

A deep, raspy voice calls out from behind you. A few of you whip your heads around to see the source of the noise, whereas others stand out of shock as the man comes into your sight. “What are y’all doing on my property? Get over here!” He’s moving quickly towards the group, and Ekko’s the first to move his feet.

“Time to go,” Vi says hastily, standing. Without thinking, she takes your hands and pulls you to a stand. “You a good runner?”

No. I don’t know. I haven’t had anywhere to run in years.

That’s what you should’ve said, but as stated earlier, a life of normalcy for today. And so, you lie.

“Sure– yes, yes.”

Vi nods at that, tightening her grasp on one of your hands as she rushes to exit along with the others. Your hands stay intertwined as the pair of you dash through the greenery, avoiding unfriendly hanging branches, jumping over logs, and ducking under leaves.

You’re terrified. The same glistening sweat that forms in your clammy hands makes another appearance on your forehead. A prickle crawls its way up your throat, and suddenly you’re hacking into your elbow as the cowgirl guides you close to her body while you near the edge of the woods. Your little red problem pounds against your chest as if it’s begging you to stop, to give up before it does, but you can’t.

The man moves quickly, but he’s no match for adolescents of the countryside. By the time you reach the fields of your farm, he’s nowhere to be found.

Powder’s hollering and cheers of victory sound broken, doubling and distilled, coupled with a soft ringing sound and pressure around your head that only grows the longer you stand. The only thing you can hear clearly is your quick panting. That deep red blood is draining from your head and blazing heat is left in its place.

A blurry and distant Violet comes into your impaired vision, and you feel the soft sensation of her cupping your face with worried hands. “Cherry?”

Your mind’s swirling with thousands of sensations, and your terrified breaths grow increasingly shallow until you can’t fight to stay awake any longer, falling into the arms of Vi. There’s yelling, someone scooping you up into their protective arms, orders being thrown around as you’re rushed towards the house, then silence. Complete and utter silence.

The female lead is on your screen twirling and rolling her hips with glee for the third time this week, and you wonder if you'll get a chance to dance like that.

It’d been three days since you fainted after running from the farmer down the trail, three days since you’ve seen Violet (or any of the farm helpers), and three days since you’ve felt that inexplicable warmth in the pit of your stomach.

While you rendered unconscious, Vi and the others scrambled to get your limp body inside. They laid you out on your bed, arguing about whether or not to call for help, because they had no clue what was wrong with you.

Of course, you woke up a couple minutes later as you always do. You were confused and terrified, but strictly instructed to rest by the friends who promised they’d stay until your father arrived. Fatigued even more than normal, you complied.

When your father arrived home an hour later, he stumbled upon Powder placing an ice pack on your sleeping head, Claggor and Mylo pacing the room in worry, Ekko attempting to research what exactly would have caused your current state, and Violet looking sick to her stomach as she cradled your soft hands in her rough ones; praying to whoever’s up there that you’d be fine.

Needless to say, once they’d confessed to leaving for the woods and running back (leaving out every bit alcohol related), he’d been beyond furious, placing you on total lockdown for recovery and demanding the helpers avoid the farm for a couple of days. After you’d gotten your medication in you and recovered after a full day of rest, he chewed you out too. ‘You know I’m just trying to keep you safe.’

But you didn’t want safe anymore, you wanted life.

And Violet walked right through your front door. Literally.

The pinkette runs a hand through her fluffy hair before securing the cowboy hat back on her head. Her eyes are searching the house for the kitchen when they land on you, and a wave of relief washes over her.

“Hi, angel.”

Your heart speeds up, and this time, you don’t need to question it.

“Hi Violet,” you coo shyly, standing from your comfy position on the couch and making your way over to her, hands clasped behind your back.

She wastes no time cradling your face in her calloused fingers, the pair of your soft breaths filling the silence as the girl looks over you, finishing her personal assessment before swiping a thumb across your cheek in gentle comfort.

“I was so worried about you,” the whisper fell from her lips without shame.

“I’m fine, really.” you speak in the same tone, leaning into her sweet hand.

“No, you’re not.” That catches you off guard. “When your father saw what happened he panicked, said something about your heart and thought you were…” she let your mind fill the blank with a glint of pain in her blue-gray eyes. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Your eyes drop to the floor, and before you have time to think about it, you speak. “I’m sick. The bad kind of sick that doesn’t just go away after a couple days.” you can’t look her in the eyes as you speak, just placing a finger to your chest. “I have a ‘bad heart’, as my father puts it. Don’t have a lot of energy, can’t do much without getting too overwhelmed, dizzy spells and such..”

You expect to see a crack in Vi’s sweet eyes, a sign of distaste, of regret for caring about a broken girl, but her gaze only softens and a tender hand moves a piece of hair from your face.

“That why you’re cooped up in here?” she asks, even though she knows the answer. You nod.

It’s silent for some time, and the two of you enjoy the other’s presence in such a milestone moment.

“I have somethin’ for the five of you,” you finally speak, pulling from her affectionate grasp. She nods, wiping the worry she feels in the pit of her stomach away so that she can be there for you. You stroll into the kitchen with the cowgirl behind you, opening and rummaging around the fridge as she takes a needed seat at the marble island.

She looks over your attire. A big bright red sweater hangs off your shoulders that covers your shorts, and a white bow in your hair that brings a smile back to her face.

You turn back around, setting down a tiffany blue cupcake platter and perfectly made white-frosted cupcakes with a purple design in the middle. You then pull out some tupperware, transferring cupcakes into it as Vi speaks.

“They’re Violets,” she says in surprise and you giggle, only nodding your head.

Marry me she thinks, before coming up with something more plausible to say. “Is this what you’re studying in college? You're gonna be a chef or somethin’ angel?”

You pause before barely shaking your head. “Not goin’ to college this year.. my father says I need a gap year before ‘making any big decisions’,” you scoff, because the truth is he just can’t let you go. “Worries me though. He won’t go out and buy me any textbooks or anything, I’m gonna go stupid.” you whine.

Vi presses her lips together, clearly sharing your discontent with the situation.

“Well, I know you’ll do great when you go. There’s already a strong brain in that pretty head of yours,” she grins.

A smile forms against your will as you look up at the girl.

“You think I’m pretty, Violet?’

She responds quickly, like the words spilled out of her heart rather than being formulated in her head. “I think you’re gorgeous. Whoever’s up there took their time making you.”

Comfortable silence ensues as the room’s filled with pounding hearts and warm faces of passion. Finally, you finish packing up Vi’s cupcakes and place the box in front of her. She thanks you, looking to the side in thought before an idea flickers across her face.

The girl rises, lifting the hat from her head and leaning over the marble to place it atop your surprised head. She doesn’t wait for your reaction as she picks up the cupcake box and a wooden crate from the ground (what she should’ve been doing in the first place). “Keep that safe for me until tomorrow, cherry.”

“But isn’t tomorrow your day off?” you ask, flicking the front of the hat so it’s above your eyes.

“Yeah. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”

The sun couldn’t set and rise fast enough.

You waited in so much anticipation that you woke up an hour earlier, practically shoved your father out of the house with his breakfast, and spent any extra time at a mirror fixing an out of place hair or switching your outfit for the fifth time.

You don’t know why you do– why you care so much. But before you can think too hard on it, the sound of someone pulling into your driveway blesses your ears and there’s six soft knocks at the front door.

And so it starts with you and Vi seated on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your backs lean against the lower portion of the soft matter, and Vi pulls out a book. Four books, to be exact. One for each core subject.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking from the pile of literature to the fluffy haired girl.

“I was thinkin’ I'd bring some textbooks to you since you can’t get ‘em yourself. I’m in my second year now so I won’t be needin’ these ones anymore.” She somehow speaks with both suave confidence and warm-faced fear in unison. “We could make it a thing, y’know. Preparing for classes together.”

“Yes!” You speak with starstruck orbs.

Violet laughed with relief, because if she had to be completely honest, that wasn’t the only reason she was here. She didn’t need this time to prepare, maybe a quick refresh before the year started, but she definitely didn’t need to be studying during summer. But if it gave her a chance to connect with you, she’d study until her brain burst.

The helpers’ off days were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So that’s when Violet would pack her books, hop in her truck, and haul ass to your farm. Each session was the same. You’d start out in comfortable silence reading your separate texts and answering questions or jotting notes down, then Violet would make a stupid joke about a picture in the book or get sidetracked by your bookshelf of dvds in front of her, and minutes later the room would be filled with fits of laughter, fuzzy brains, and your books completely discarded.

“‘Dirty dancing’? Damn cherry, your father know you watch this stuff?” Vi grins, sliding the movie case back into its spot along the brown wooden shelf.

“It’s not that kinda movie, Violet. It’s like.. set in the sixties.” you huff, holding back a smile at her playful words. The pinkette takes her seat next to you on the couch, manspread legs and a cunning smirk just inches away from your face.

“And what exactly is ‘one of those movies’, doll?” she teases.

You scoff.

“I’m sheltered, not stupid.” you play, a soft hand coming up to push against the girl’s arm.

Something flickers across the pinkette’s face before suddenly, she’s on top of you.

You’re pushed onto your back against the plush couch as pure muscle weighs above you, powerful hands swirl at your waist before your laughter fills her ears and your hand shoots out to grab at one of her arms. The pair of you struggle for power, pushing back and forth, twisting bodies, and yelling out competitive quips.

Finally, you smush the palm of your hand against Violet’s face, momentarily stunning her before the stronger girl grabs both of your wrists and pins them right above your head.

Soft panting and awestruck eyes decorate the both of you. The air is tighter, every inch of your body is suddenly aware of your positions, and no words are exchanged as you savor the feeling of her touch. God you feel weak, but you don’t know whether to place the reasoning on Violet or your heart.

Violet’s about to lose it, because with the way your sweet eyes are trailing up her body to her face, her heart is clear.

She wants– no, craves you. Bad.

It’s quiet for a moment longer before Vi clears her throat, reluctantly letting go of your wrists while moving back to stand.

“We deserve a study break.” the cowgirl hums, crouching and examining the lower levels of the bookshelf.

“We haven’t even been studying,” you throw back and fix your skirt while sitting up. Vi finds the record she’s been searching for, pulls it from its sleeve, and adjusts the player.

“Okay smart ass, we deserve a break.” she grins and the stylus hits the circular item.

A soft, sensual song makes its way through the air. It’s older, a woman singing softly about her lover’s perfection, and you warm at the thought of a special someone fantasizing about you to the tune.

Vi stands in the middle of the spacious room, and when you don’t move she waves her arm. “C’mere.”

You stand (a little quicker than you should’ve), and make your way over. She wastes no time, gently moving one of your hands to her shoulder and intertwining fingers with your other. As for your free hand, she tenderly places it on your waist, looking for any discomfort in your face. All she’s met with is big eyes of wonder and god, she’s screwed.

“Just follow my lead.” she’s speaking sensually under the music, thumb rubbing at your waist.

“Oh please, I could dance circles around you.” you quip.

“I’m sure you could, doll. But it’s a slow dance, so we work together.” Your bodies move closer as she speaks, making you smile and lose the sassy attitude for a moment. Just a moment.

Angelic vocals encase the two of you. There are only sounds of that and gentle side steps before you speak once more.

“Did you know it was my birthday?” You stare straight into her eyes.

“Wait, what?”

“The day we went to the woods. Is that why you asked me to come? Because it was my birthday?” you tilt your head.

She blinks twice before huffing a laugh. “No, I didn’t know. This mean I made you faint and get in trouble with your pops as a present?”

You smile to yourself at the coincidence, holding her hand a bit tighter.

“Have you danced with someone like this before?” she asks.

You shake your head before pausing. “Well, once with my mother, but I was very little.”

Vi’s eyes soften a bit more. “Is she..?”

You nod. “It happened when I was eleven. She had the same problem as me, that’s why he’s so protective.” Your voice is soft as you refer to your father. “I understand him, I really do, but I’m just so tired of being separate from the world.”

The girl can only nod, the hand around your waist snakes around to your back and pulls closer until your bodies are almost plush against each other.

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she whispers. And suddenly, there’s soft giggles. You’re laughing because the tough, suave cowgirl you know can be such a sap.

Your laughter dies down and you shake your head before placing it between the crook of Vi’s neck, softening into your sappy cowgirl. “Talk to me about something good,” you hum.

“I’m takin’ you out on a date Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your head back to look her in the eyes.

She stammers and mentally groans because you’re the only one who could ever make Violet Lane stammer. “Well– if you say yes.”

No.

That’s what you’re supposed to say, and what you should say. Not because of your father’s influence, not for your safety, but because you’re afraid. Afraid of the trouble you could get Vi into, of dealing with the unknown, but most importantly you were afraid of hurting her.

While you aren’t bedridden, your life is fragile, and the thought of being a burden to Vi was heavy and present. How long could she stand you until she got tired of your neediness? How long until she’s tired of hearing about all the things you can’t do? She’s spontaneous, reckless, fun, and you thought she deserves to end up with someone just like that. Someone you’re not.

But right now, you want her, and she needs you, so you give her what you can.

“Of course,” you agree with a genuine, toothy smile, and the pinkette sighs of relief.

The song finally comes to a stop.

For the first time, you’re glad your father works all day long, because there’s no way you could sneak someone as loud as Powder around your house.

Her squeals of embarrassment and your laughter echo from the kitchen throughout every room of your home. Your canvases and paints are neglected as you point an accusatory finger at a message on her screen. A message from ‘Ekko <3’.

“I knew it! The way you talk to each other– ‘Oh Ekko! You’re just so smart,’” you mock her, making the girl’s face change colors faster than you’ve ever seen.

“I do not say things like that!” She yells back, making you giggle harder. “And we aren’t dating.”

“Why not?” you whine. You clasp your hands as if a plea is about to fall from your lips when a ding rings throughout the room. You look down and gasp. A message from ‘Lux <3’.

You pause, eyes flickering to the girl. “Do you have everyone saved with a heart?”

She shakes her head.

“Just those two?”

She nods.

“Oh, this is just like the movies!” Your laughter repeats like a loop. The girl groans at you and moves her phone to the other end of the marble countertop. “I’m kidding– awhh, Powder!”

She shakes her head. “This conversation is all the way over.”

It takes a moment for your giggles to die down, and soon you’re nudging the bluenette’s shoulder with yours gently. “You’ll make the right decision, just don’t waste time overthinking it. Follow your heart.”

She raises her eyebrows, picking up her paintbrush. “I could give you the same advice.”

You scoff out a laugh, gaze landing on your taunting medications in the corner of a counter. “My heart is fighting itself. Wants two different things at once. Certainly can’t have both.”

“Then follow your mental heart, not your physical one.”

You pause, brows furrowing as you look at her with suspicious eyes. “Did Violet..”

Powder shakes her head before you can finish. “No. She can keep a secret, especially for you. I connected the dots on my own,” she shrugs, swiping an electric blue line across the clean canvas. “Y’know, the meds, how protective your father is. Once, on one of your bad days, I looked through a window and saw you sitting down a third of the way up the stairs looking all dizzy and breathless. You fainting just tied it all together,” she hums.

You burn holes into the ground with your utterly ashamed gaze.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, but you should live the life you want rather than being trapped in one you yearn to escape. And you can count on that big baby to protect you.” You let out a little laugh, nodding at the younger girl’s sweet words.

“Oh yeah, she wanted me to give you this. Dummy forgot it yesterday.”

Powder sets the brush down and rummages around her tote bag that lays on the counter, pulling out a tiny black velvet box and handing it to you before turning back to her self-proclaimed masterpiece.

Your heart swells in the best way possible, and you flick open the little clasp to reveal a thick golden ring with two red dots and a green leaf in the middle. It’s accompanied by a small white note with bright red writing.

‘Happy birthday, cherry.’

“I knew they were together!”

You stare out of the windows of Vi’s truck into the town square. Your gaze is fixed on Miss Medarda and Mister Talis, who are sitting suspiciously close to each other on a bench near one of the decorative fountains.

Vi fixes her dark brown hat as a laugh escapes her. “No way, he’s always chatting up this guy– one of the professors at U.P.” Vi refers to her college, and it takes you a second to understand.

“His hand was on her thigh, Violet. That was pure romance.”

Vi pauses, seemingly focused on the road ahead, but the lightbulb look behind her eyes that appears makes you think otherwise. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see who’s right.” she jokes after remembering she hadn’t responded.

Vibrant sunlight hits almost every inch of the truck and illuminates the town that passes by as the pinkette turns down a road surrounded by greenery. You spin the gifted ring on your finger once, then twice, out of nervousness. It’d been years since you left your house for anything but the doctor’s, let alone a date. A thousand and one possibilities whirled through your mind, but were quickly flushed out at the sound of Vi’s voice.

“I see you got your gift,” she smiles, eyes flicking away from the road down to your ring and back. “I like how it looks on you.”

She was skilled at putting up a flirtatious and unbothered front, because on the inside you had her absolutely melting. Out of all ten options, you chose to secure her gift on your left ring finger.

You’ll be the death of her, no doubt.

“It’s perfect,” you look over to her with hearts in your eyes. “Thanks, cowgirl.”

She nods, eyes flickering back down before she takes her right hand off of the wheel and down to thumb the end of your shorts. “I like these too, real damn pretty.”

You giggle, and somehow the swarm of butterflies in your gut doubles in size, because instead of returning to the wheel, the girl’s hand is delicately placed onto your inner thigh. Her calloused hands gently cup your skin, and she’s grateful you can’t read minds because she’s terrified of your potential reaction.

You can’t fight the smile that crawls its way onto your warm face. The only thought that runs through your mind is how this is even better than the movies.

“Well I hope I’m dressed well enough for whatever we’re doing today. Wish you woulda told me.” You finally reply, softening under her touch. You swear you hear her let out a little sigh of relief.

“That’d ruin the surprise. I’ve gotta wow you.” she sends you a wink and your laughter fills the car with joy.

It doesn’t take long until you’re pulling into the driveway of Violet’s house. It’s beautiful, all brown and white with flowers out front that Powder planted herself, high school graduation yard signs, and fresh open space. Still, a panicked look sets on your face.

“Wait, wait, Vander’s gonna see me– he’ll tell my dad,” you stammer.

Vi cuts the engine, gently taking a hold of your chin to redirect your gaze as she speaks reassuringly. “Hey, hey. He’s not here you worrywart, won’t be home until late tonight.” Your eyes soften and you sigh. “Besides,” she starts, “we’re going over there.”

Just past the house is a matching white and brown barn-esque building. Stables.

“She’s so big!” you yell with awestruck eyes as Vi pulls the red roan out of the stables by the lead. “What’s her name? When’d you get her? Wow I’ve never seen one of these up close, mama was afraid of ‘em and my father doesn’t ride.” You speak at rapid fire making Violet snicker.

“Slow down,” she instructs, standing between you and the hairy beauty. The girl takes your hand, placing it on the horse’s shoulder, giving you the okay to pet. “Her name’s Gunner, she was my fifteenth birthday present, and I can’t imagine your pops getting anywhere near a horse.” You playfully hit her with your unoccupied hand.

“Gunner,” you whisper, “badass.”

Vi chuckles, because swearing sounds so foreign to you.

“You ready?” She asks, slipping her black riding helmet on your head.

“Wait, what?”

“You think I brought you here just to stare at her?” she smirks, completely mesmerized by your face while tightening the straps of the protective gear. “We’ll go slow this time, I promise. Okay?”

The promise of this happening again makes your heart flutter, and all of the gears in your brain stop spinning before you respond, “Okay.”

She helps you onto Gunner, patting the small of your back before hopping up right behind you. Her warm arms snake around your waist and grab hold of the reins in her hands. Her muscular front is smushed against your back, her head placed inches to the right of yours.

“Now, gently squeeze his middle with your calves,” she instructs.

You obey, and the red roan begins its walk. It’s slow, peaceful, but such a new experience to you that a sweet gasp of surprise falls from your lips.

The two of you sit in silence, appreciating the comfort of each others’ presence and warm golden light shining upon you as the beauty of nature captures you. In the green pasture of Vi’s fields, you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in five long years.

Gunner simply walks for a few minutes as you point out pretty flowers that you pass and Violet mentally compiles a bouquet for you. Vi’s talking about her years as a kid in this field. When she’d lost (and found) her favorite toy bunny out here, or dared Mylo to walk through the vast field at the dead of night. Suddenly you’re begging to see some baby photos.

It’s at this moment that everything’s easy. Vi’s admiring everything about you with eyes of love when–

Gunner’s neigh sounds like a shriek of terror when three birds zip past, spooking the roan into a 180 and bolt away before Vi can make it out of her trance.

You yelp from the sudden change in speed, almost slipping off of the animal, but Vi’s there to keep you securely fastened against her as she takes control of it. Just as fast as it changed, Gunner’s speed slows to a stop. You can feel just how tense Vi is as she speaks.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, doll. She gets spooked so easily and– god, I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

It’s silent for a moment. The scariest moment of the pink haired girl’s life, because she can’t see your twinkling grin that spreads from ear to ear before you laugh.

“That was so cool!” you beam, leaning forward to pat at the horse. “Not so badass though, huh?”

After a few more apologies and you repeatedly telling Vi that it was fine, you two decided it was best to turn in for the day.

You sigh, sitting against the short wooden fence. “I wanna rest for a minute, that okay?” ‘I need to take a rest, I don’t have any energy’ is what you actually mean, but you choose not to worry her.

She wastes no time plopping down onto the grass next to you, eyes raising to the baby blue sky. She gives you a few moments of silence, sneaking glances at your face every so often, before speaking.

“Powder and Claggor were talking about how awesome it’d be if we took you to a Seraphine concert. Think you’d like her music a lot.” she hums, smiling to herself.

“And one day, I'm gonna take you line dancing so we can settle our little debate once and for all.” Her grinning face is inches away from you and her overpowering scent of amber and musk ensues.

“Oh really?” Your voice is soft as your head turns, looking Violet up and down with half-lidded eyes. “I think..”

You quickly mount Vi’s lap, pushing the girl onto her back and pinning those muscular arms right beside her head with both of your hands. You’re both all giggles and grunts, and even though there’s no way you’d stand a chance against her in a real tussle, she lets you win.

You lay there, one atop the other in a field of colors. The tension is so thick that not even a knife could cut it, and your grip softens when tender hands reach up to cup your face, a thumb stroking your cheek. The sun, her hands, her sparkling blue eyes, and the love radiating between the two of you has you all but melting. You’re leaning down, inching closer each second, and just before Vi’s dreams come true, you stop.

You pull back with newly glossy eyes, dismounting the girl while whispering apologies that get lodged in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You want nothing more than to connect your lips and hearts, but you were so afraid. How long until she resents you? How long until it’s over? You’d grown accustomed to heartaches, but never heartbreak.

But Violet craves you more than plants crave water, she needs you more than the Earth needs the sun. You just don’t know it.

“Hey,” she whispers, sitting up and holding your chin as if routine. “Look at me, angel.”

You comply with built up tears that threaten to stain your cheeks.

“You don’t have to apologize for something like that,” she consoles, never looking away from your softened eyes. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want, okay?”

You wipe your tears with the side of your hand, choking out your words. “I just– I don’t want to disappoint you.” I don’t want you to hate me once I’m gone.

“Disappoint me?” She stiffles out a laugh. “You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to, hell, I’d lasso the moon and bring it down if you wanted.”

That makes you sniffle and let out a breathy laugh, bringing Violet some relief. The girl slowly inches forward to make sure you’re completely okay with it before placing a warmhearted kiss to your forehead. It’s quick and simple, but causes an eruption of butterflies in your gut. Soon, your troubles are forgotten.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“What’d I say about keeping this door open?” Vi raises a brow, leaning against the doorframe as she stares at an unbothered Powder who’s doing her mascara, and a flustered Ekko.

“Must’ve been the wind.” Powder mutters.

“She wouldn’t listen!” He raises his hands in innocence from his position on a neon pink beanbag.

It’s silent before the three burst out in laughter, and Vi’s shaking her head as they catch their breath.

“Hurry up though, we’re gonna be late to Laurier’s.”

“Not today, Vi.” Vander’s voice bellows from behind her, making her turn her head with furrowed brows. “He gave the five of you a day off.”

A smile graces Ekko’s lips and Powder is whooping in the back, but Vi’s lips drop into a subtle frown.

“Awhh,” Powder coos, “poor Vi doesn’t get to see her girlfriend today, how ever will she live?”

The teens snicker, but the pinkette notices the uneasy look on his face, the one where he has something to say but just can’t spit it out. “What?”

The burly man runs a hand across his beard with a sigh.

“His daughter.” The entire room pauses. “She's terribly ill today, bedridden. He’s staying home to watch over her so there’s no need for far–”

Vander doesn’t get to finish his explanation, because Vi’s pulling the keys from her pocket and rushing past him towards the front door.

It takes almost running three red lights and a long, torturous talk with your father about being able to speak to you just for an hour, but at your bedroom door stands Vi, taking off her hat to look at you with big worried eyes. “Cherry,” she calls out.

You feel absolutely horrendous.

Your breaths are shallow, your ankles feel swollen beyond belief (you thanked god Violet couldn’t see them from under the blanket), and your eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, threatening to drop from fatigue.

“What’s going on? What can I do?” she asks, wasting no time walking over to your pretty bed and taking a seat right next to you.

You shake your pillow-elevated head, laying on your side to face her with a soft smile. “Can’t do anything, it’s just a bad day.” You reach a hand out to grab her calloused one and intertwine your fingers. “Just glad you’re here.”

“How’d you get past my father?” you whisper, relaxing into the soft matter.

Vi huffs out a laugh, readjusting to lay down as she speaks. “Convinced him that I’m extremely knowledgeable in this area because I’m studying to be in the medical field. So he thought it’d be fine if I watched over you while he feeds the cattle.”

You giggle with a teasing look. “Oh yeah, what have you learned?”

“Cherries are good for the heart,” she says all ‘matter of fact’ like. “They have potassium and antioxidants to reduce inflammation.”

“I should be the one calling you cherry, then.” You hum. You don’t know how much it means to Vi to hear that she’s ‘good for you’.

It’s quiet again, and you spend time shamelessly looking over every inch of the girl’s face, landing on her powder-blue orbs. “You know, your children would have some beautiful eyes.”

“And yours would be beautiful all around,” there’s not a trace of doubt in her voice. “What would you name them?” She asks and throws out silly names as you look around in thought, “Batman? Lice? Maddie?”

“How is Maddie as bad as those names?”

“I just don’t like it!”

Your giggles fill the room before you shake your intertwined hand. “Maybe either.. Josie or Clementine? They sound.. warm. Safe.”

Vi nods, pulling you closer into her chest and draping an arm over you that cradles your back, “Josie it is.”

Your ears burn as you nuzzle into her. “And we’ll live in a big pretty house in the city, surrounded by noise and culture and life.” You wished so badly.

“We?” Vi asks.

“Me, Josie… and you.” You look up at her with the last of your body’s strength. “If you’ll join us.”

That spark in Violet’s stomach has grown to a full fire heating her body. Her dream girl’s lying in her arms, talking her ears off about their hypothetical future together, all while looking up at her with pupils blown wide as if she’s your knight in shining armor.

“Of course,” she agrees, “but we’ll have to bring Rusty and Gunner along.”

You snicker with a nod. “Sounds perfect.”

There’s a glint in the girl’s eyes as she trails her hand up your back to the soft skin of your face. “A pretty house, an adorable daughter, my rascal animals,” you let out a weak laugh, “and my pretty girl to share it all with.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Yours?” you tease.

“Yeah, mine.”

She’s tracing meaningless patterns on your neck with one hand while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with the other. And god, whatever this feeling is it’s too good, too sweet, too sensual. Your waiting lips are slightly agape in awe, and it doesn’t take long before Vi whispers, “Can I?”

This time, ‘yes’ is the only word that pops into your brain and slips from your mouth as Vi’s lips crash into yours.

Her lips are melting into yours with so much intensity that it’s hard to keep up. You let her take the lead while your scents, minds, and tongues mix together in a bundle of passion. Her grip around you never loosens. Fingers thread through your hair, and her slightly chapped lips dread leaving yours, because your kisses are the air she needs to breathe.

A whine falls from you when she reluctantly pulls away from your sweet mouth, placing four chaste kisses on your cheeks, nose, and forehead.

“You need to rest,” she coos, peppering your forehead with another (much needed) kiss, and keeping the close proximity as her arms wrap around you. There’s no argument, because the adrenaline rush from her kiss is wearing off and that wave of exhaustion snakes its way back.

There you lay, bodies intertwined and souls tying as the sound of Vi’s healthy heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

Once you’re out, you stay sound asleep as Vi hesitantly leaves your bed.

You stay sound asleep as she trots downstairs where your father places weights of guilt upon her, claiming he knows you two have been sneaking around, and it’s her fault you’re in this current state.

You stay sound asleep as he demands she doesn’t return to the farm, permanently.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you hate Violet Lane.

And while deep down you know that’s not the slightest bit true, you still act like it.

When you woke up the next day, the birds singing and a beaming face as you skipped downstairs to hug your father good morning, the last thing you expected was to hear the all too confusing news that Vi had quit. Along with the rest of her siblings and friend just an hour after.

Unfortunately, you were none the wiser, and slowly sulked up the stairs and sank into your bed where you cried yourself back to sleep.

For the first couple days, it didn’t make sense. The way she looked at you with those big puppy dog eyes, her tender care, the ways she spoke to and about you, it all seemed so real. It had to be real.

On day three, you decided that acting was just one of her many skills.

By day four, you had it figured out, or so you thought. Vi was a flirtatious asshole who wanted nothing more than some street credit for kissing the untouchable, locked up, sick princess right under her overbearing father’s nose. Coming to and believing such a conclusion felt like a stab in the side, and the knife only twisted when you factored in the fact that the others must’ve known about this, which is why they left alongside her.

You thought you’d become accustomed to all of the heart pains in the world, but you were wrong.

Tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall until they grew dry, your baking pans yearned to be used but were shoved away into a cabinet, and what hurt the most was knowing your father was right for keeping you locked up all these years. You weren’t free, but you were safe.

Finally, on day five, you’re engulfed by the plush matter of your couch when there’s six knocks at the door and someone’s calling out for you: “Cherry?”

You scoff at her audacity.

When you storm over and yank open the door with the meanest glare Vi’s ever seen from the prettiest girl she knows, you’re met with Ekko leaning against your white picket fence with his arms crossed, Powder standing next to him with a worried face, Claggor and Mylo relaxed against Vi’s bright red truck, and said truck-driver right in front of you looking absolutely sick.

And you slam the door right in her backstabbing face.

“Seriously?” Vi huffs out, earning a stifled laugh and whistle from Mylo.

“Go away, Violet.” You yell through the door, voice the sternest she’s ever heard.

“Fuck no. What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” you counter, back pressed against your barrier. “You got all that you wanted from me, and then you quit and disappear from my life. So why are you back, huh?”

You’re lucky you’re packed with pent up anger, because tears are bubbling in the corners of your eyes and yelling is the only thing keeping them from spilling over.

“What?” the pinkette's completely taken aback, because she has no clue what you’re on about.

“That’s not–” she sighs, lowering her voice before speaking. “I’ll never get enough of you. I’d take a thousand kisses and so, so much more if you’d let me, but that’s not why I see you, angel.”

Your eyes soften and hurt brows furrow because damn, she’s a good actress.

“And I didn’t quit. That afternoon when you fell asleep, your old man practically dragged me out of your house and fired me. Said I caused your symptoms to worsen. I thought I’d lay low for a few days– and believe me when I say these were the hardest days of my life, but I didn’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Your bottom lip is bitten red until you finally cave, creeping the door open just enough to show your face.

“You promise?” you ask, and Violet’s heart is aching.

“Cross my heart.” she replies.

That’s all it takes for you to swing the door open and jump into her arms. She stumbles back in surprise before applying the same force, arms wrapping around your waist as she melts into yours cradling her neck.

You’re sniffling, taking deep breaths before you speak. “Really thought you left me,” you croak out.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” she teases, placing a tender kiss on your forehead as you giggle and blink away tears.

“Now go get changed, we’re going out,” a grin tugs at the corner of her lips when your happy eyes make contact with hers. You blink, an idea flashing across your face, before pulling her inside by the wrist, yelling “just a minute!” to the others, before hastily shutting the door.

Violet’s eyes graze over every last atom of your body as your hips sway in front of her, babbling with Powder about who knows what, because she hasn’t been focused since you dragged her into your bedroom ‘innocently’ needing help with your outfit.

She stood in your doorway curiously, thinking she’d only be there for a second, maybe you’d never been to a rodeo and needed advice.

That was, until you paused at your walk in closet, a cheeky smirk on your lips that Vi desperately wanted to taste as you nod your head towards the bed. “Sit.”

And she obeyed, manspread legs at the edge of your bed as you walk infront of her with a few items on white hangers. All frills, lace, denim skirts and shorts, and Vi’s reasonably concluded she died and went to heaven.

“I could wear..” you shift the hangers around, “this with this skirt, or maybe these shorts and.. ooh, these boots match my panties.” You get a rise out of seeing the usually suave girl short circuit at the words that bless her ears. Definitely in heaven.

But Vi came to the realization that she was, in fact, alive. Because her heart truly stopped beating when she helped you settle on your pieces, threw her a sugary sweet “thanks, Vi,” did a casual 180, and stuck your ass out to drag your skirt down painfully slow.

Oh, those boots do match your panties.

Now here you stand in a lacy red top, denim shorts that have her thanking god for your creation, and matching cherry red cowgirl boots that graced her eyes the first day you met.

Neverending chatter fills your ears from other attendees, the overwhelming scent of kettle popcorn from a nearby booth stuffs your nostrils, and you see Ekko nudge at Vi, saying something that you can’t hear over the bluenette beside you talking your ear off about the stunning horses she sees.

Suddenly, Vi’s walking up to you and smushing her hat onto your head with her famous smirk. “Keep it safe for me, doll?”

You nod mindlessly, a hand coming up to fix its position on your head.

“Where ya goin’?” Powder calls out to the platinum blonde boy who’s ushering Vi to hurry up.

“Our annual face off,” he throws her a wink, and the girl’s rolling her eyes with a playful scoff.

Before you can even ask, she’s locking arms with you and dragging you along to an even more crowded area. There’s various groups of people surrounding a blocked off area containing a big, black, circular inflatable mat. And directly in the middle is a mischievous brown mechanical bull.

“Are they..” and your question is deemed useless when Ekko mounts the hairy machine, pumping his hands up in motion for the crowd to whoop and holler. Of course, they do.

Ekko does good, to say the least.

One hand grips the bull while the other is thrown up into the air as the machine thrashes him and his white locs every which way. The intensity increases as it tauntingly speeds up, thrashing harder, and spinning recklessly. Finally, he’s bucked off, rolling to a stand and flashing his pearly whites as the crowd cheers.

A giggle falls from your mouth as your hip nudges Powder who’s in complete awe, and she warms in embarrassment.

Vi and Ekko fake tension, sending joking competitive glares as they switch places. Now it’s the pink haired cowgirl that’s mounting the mechanical animal.

You never thought you’d be admiring this sort of thing, but Violet’s never fails to twist your stomach in knots.

With a hand gripping the bull and the other resting on the back of her head, she bucks her hips back and forth to counter the thrashing machine. She’s focused, her sculpted muscles flexing as she holds on tight, but a cocky smile is plastered on her face with teeth biting down on her rosy lips.

Surrounding girls (including yourself) are wooing at the sight.

Vi makes it through the most chaotic shakes and spins as the bull finally comes to a controlled stop, and you’re cheering louder than you ever thought you could.

“Woo! Hell yeah!” you cry out. The girl’s cheesing harder than ever when she hears your support, and the smile lasts all the way over to a fake booing Ekko who rolls his eyes and slips her a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.

You and Powder unlock arms to move over to the riders. A chuckle of amusement spills from you, and you’re securing Violet’s hat back over her fluffy hair. “That was real impressive, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?” she coos.

“Yeah.” The atmosphere grows heavier, each of your eyes searching the other’s like there’s treasure to find. But your little staring contest as Claggor speaks.

“Earth to lovebirds,” he hums politely. “You coming?”

You’re quick to nod, but Vi gently holds your wrist, making you pause. “Actually, I wanted to show cherry around some more. Catch up later?” She asks, but she’s already pulling you away before Claggor nods in agreement and the group goes in the opposite direction as you.

You speed up, feet coming into step with the girl who’s needily pulling you. Her silent prayers are answered when she spots a more secluded area behind a building and some fences.

“Vi,” you snicker, cheeks warming in nervousness, “what are we doing?”

She hums through half lidded orbs, hands finding their place on your hips and hastily pushing you against the wall that covers the two of you from the eyes of others. You’re looking up at her with the sweetest glint in your eyes and it’s driving her absolutely mad.

“You said I was real impressive, right?” Her voice is smoother, breathier.

Ohh.

You tilt your head, teeth chewing on your abused bottom lip before you mutter. “That’s right.. think you deserve a reward, huh?”

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, sweetheart.”

The newfound nickname is sending a shiver up your spine that transforms into a blazing warmth when Vi’s lips fit into yours like puzzle pieces. This time, messy limbs are thrown over each other. Your hand travels from her hands that are cradling your heated face, down to her abs (making her shiver as you scrape your nails across), to tangle in what pink locks aren’t captured by her hat.

A strong hand makes its way around your waist, pulling you dangerously closer to rub against her body. God, she’s good at this.

“Vi..” you’re finally able to whisper as she trails kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. You can feel her smirk against the area where she peppers you with affection.

And it’s perfect.

Not just the way she’s kissing you, or the fact that you’re kissing at all. It’s the environment, the feelings, the friendships that you’ve made with the others, the fact that for today, you’re living a normal life. It’s the fact that for a moment, you can cheer on your friends in a competition, you can lock arms with a friend and woo over others, you can get lost in passionate kisses with a girl and not have another care in the world.

You wished it could stay this way forever.

You lose all sense of shame, letting a soft grunt slip from your lips at the feeling of teeth and a ‘pop’ on your neck. It’s only a matter of seconds before both of your eyes widen and Vi’s pulling back with a crooked smile on her face.

“Did you..”

She wordlessly eyes the red-purple love bite forming on the back-side of your neck, just below your ear.

“Violet!” you drag out with a whine, sending her into a soft fit of laughter. She feels guilty, but you’re just too cute.

You have a love-hate relationship with the neon lights that are beaming throughout the spacious room that brings more noise than you’ve heard in the past five years– maybe more than your entire life.

On one hand, the flashing colors are starting to give you a major headache. On the other, the red glow that decorates Violet’s face as she grins down at you has your insides doing summersaults.

Nevermind. You love the lights.

“C’mon y’all,” Powder calls out with a chipper expression. Ekko’s standing properly in line and his blue haired companion, who’s already freestyling, spins out of control and squeals up a storm.

“You ready?” Vi’s words kiss your ear as she holds both of your hands, pulling you out to the dance floor.

“Are you?”

Your sass has her laughing, and she brings her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “Follow my lead, cherry.”

And for a few moments, you do. All of the surrounding crowd dances the same to the upbeat, fast-paced country song that pierces your ears, so you replicate Vi’s mixed steps and cute little head tilts with her hand on that chocolate hat.

But then the song changes, it’s more passion filled and fiery. All it takes is Powder spinning out of line and shamelessly making her own moves before you’re formulating the steps in your head. From movies you watched religiously to mindlessly shuffling your own feet late at night, you danced for the little girl who longed to have fun, who longed to be free.

You’re clicking the heels of your boots against the ground, moving your hips as fluid as water, and bringing your hands up just for them to slide down your sides with a heart-stopping smile tugging at your lips.

Violet’s in awe, because her girl’s fearless and full of smiles, and she couldn’t be happier for you.

And there’s no doubt in her mind that this is the only girl she’ll ever want, need, crave.

She whistles, looking up and down with the most amused expression you’ve ever encountered. “Jesus, alright you win, doll.”

“Yeah?” The tease comes out a bit breathless, but you play it off as dancing too wildly.

You look at the pink haired beauty through thick lashes. Inching dangerously closer as you sway, Violet’s hands have a powerful hold on your soft waist. You stumble over your feet once, then twice, and she notices.

“Slow down there cowgirl,” she chuckles, but her gaze is tender under the carefree mask. “You alright?”

It’s unbearably toasty in the room, and you feel two times hotter with each passing second. But you don’t want it to end, so you wave her off, throwing out an “I’m good!”

But you’re not, and it’s evident on your face when the small ‘headache’ turns to tight pressure smothering your scalp, and you’re losing your balance as you search for an exit.

“I just need some air,” you mumble, turning your head. The room shifted under your feet, vision blurring in a haze. You took three measly steps forward, and on your fourth, you crumbled.

Your body gives out under you, and Vi’s right there to catch you when it does. Her arms snake around your waist to hold you up before she lifts you in her arms with big eyes and wavering lips.

“Shit. Ekko, come here! Powder, go get Mylo and Claggor.”

The five haul ass to Vi’s truck, the pinkette tossing her keys to Ekko as he and Mylo hop in the front. She, Claggor, and Powder take seats in the bed of the truck. When you finally come to, your back is laid against Vi’s worrisome chest, and you get the fresh air you were looking for from the speed Ekko’s driving to get you home.

But when you pull into the driveway of your home, there’s already a car waiting for you, and there stands your father with his arms crossed and pure fury in his eyes.

And you’re in so much fucking trouble.

The others attempt to plead your case, in good ways and in bad, as the man scolds everyone in sight.

“Mister, we just went out to dance.”

“She’s not a child you know, you can’t keep her cooped up here forever.”

“Please just understand.”

Everything goes in one ear and out the other, because in the chaos silently sits you and Violet. You’re still breathless, and this headache is gonna last longer than you want it to, but you relax into the warmth of Vi for one last time.

You pull back, ignoring the spike of pain that flashes across your brain, and turn to the girl with a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry, you guys should just go.”

She looks pained, like she wants to say something, she wants to help. But she nods, placing a chaste kiss to your temple just as you’re sliding out of the truck bed and over to your father. He hastily drags you inside while you bid farewell to your moping knights.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you love Violet Lane.

And you’re not an idiot, you’re sure she loves you too.

That’s what makes coming to a conclusion impossible on almost every level.

Your physical heart says this is the most idiotic decision you’ve made in your entire life. You’ve had worse symptoms than normal, you’re putting yourself in danger in the name of ‘fun’, and the thought that’s lingering in the back of everyone’s mind is one you can’t ignore: just how long will you make it?

Your mental heart says this is the best thing you’ve ever done. You’re happy, you’re in love, you have real friends, and you’re finally starting to see the point in living. Not just from a tv screen or the books your father supplies, but through your own eyes and experiences. And even though your father seemed overbearing, you know he’s afraid. He’s taken on all of the worry and stress so that you don’t have to. If you wanted something to change, you had to take the leap yourself. But you’re not sure you can.

There’s six knocks at the door, and you stay seated in your position on the couch. “It’s open,” you call out.

The clack of familiar boots enter the room, and a wave of musk and amber suffocate you when Vi walks past you to sit at your side.

It’s silent. Not your comfortable, daydream filled state of silence that Vi could watch you in forever. It’s awkward, strangulating silence, and she can’t take it.

“Yesterday was..”

“...amazing.” “A mistake.”

You speak at the same time, eyes flickering at each other's response.

“What are you talking about?” Vi asks, setting her textbooks down. You don’t miss the newfound waver in the back of her voice.

You don’t respond. You don’t want to go through with this conversation.

“..Is this about the hickey?” she flashes a strained smile, “I’m sorry if he saw it, doll. Reall–”

“This isn’t a joke, Violet.” you finally speak, eyes strictly trained down on your fiddling hands in your lap. The tears are bubbling at your eyelids and that itchy, sore feeling is crawling its way up your throat.

“Then what is it about? You and your dad? Look, I can talk to him, I’ll make things right.” Her voice is increasingly wavered, desperate, scared.

“Our–” you inhale a shaky breath, “– this, us, whatever we are is an inconvenience. An inconvenience to my father, an inconvenience to my health, an inconvenience to you.” Your voice breaks with the last word. “I’m a burden Violet, face it.”

You can’t see it with the tears blurring your vision, but Vi’s shaking her head in horror. “No. No, what are you going on about? You aren–”

“God just face it, Vi. All you wanted was to love a girl and you got a defective one.” You spit the words out like they sting on your tongue. “Soon, you’ll be annoyed by everything I can’t do and bored of everything I can.”

“Maybe we’re just not…” you can’t continue as silent tears transform into quiet little sobs.

Vi’s heart aches as she kneels down on the floor in front of you, examining your now puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. She wants nothing more than to kiss the pain away, but first she has to fix that worrisome little mind of yours.

One hand intertwines with your anxious ones, and the other reaches up as rough fingers delicately hold your chin, a soft thumb rubs back and forth against your cheek. She whispers out your name with a voice that’s holding back sadness of her own. When you’re finally ready to look at her, she smiles delicately.

“You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to. I’d lasso the moon and bring it down for you if you asked.” You recognize her sweet words from your first date, and you’re weakly melting into the palm of her hand that’s sliding to cup your face.

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” she whispers. “I will never be annoyed by what you can or can’t do– god, I'd sit here and talk to you about slugs all day everyday if that’s what you really wanted.” That has you scoffing, fighting back a smile at her silly words.

“Love isn’t about the activities you can or can’t do, it’s about a connection, our connection, and what we do with it. So, you can get rid of me if this is all true and that’s what you really want, but I will never stop loving you.” She’s speaking so sweetly, and before she even finishes her sentence you’ve made up your mind.

“You’re good for my heart, cherry.”

Those are the last words she can get out before you’re throwing yourself forward and locking lips with the love of your life.

It starts off slow, soft, an apology for the rollercoaster of emotions and blunder of nonsense you put yourselves through. Then, Vi’s hands are cupping your face and the back of your head while yours are thrown around her neck. It’s needier, sloppier, and her tongue slipping into your mouth shows it’s moved from an apology to ‘let me make you feel better’.

You hum into the kisses with pleasure, but you wanted more. Needed more. Without hesitation, you slip a hand under Vi’s tight t-shirt, running a hand up and down her abs.

The action sends a shiver down her spine, and you gasp in surprise when the sculpted girl wraps your legs around her waist and lifts you into her arms.

You’re giggling as she walks up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your litter smooches down her jaw and to that neglected neck, mimicking what she’s done for you. Vi slips a hand under the back of your shirt, making you hum into her neck at the warmth.

Pop.

A devilish grin graces your angelic face when you pull back, eyes flickering from Violet’s to the bruise on her neck.

The girl grins, catching your mouth in a wet kiss. “You’re asking for more, y’know,” she warns, and her lustful eyes are turning your brain to mush.

“Good. I want more. Need you all over me,”

Your confident words are canceled out by a sweet gasp that leaves you when Vi bucks her hips.

“You’ve gotta say it then,” she orders.

“Say.. what?”

She chuckles. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

You swear there’s a pool of slick in your underwear.

“Want you to fuck me till I cum, please please please,” you beg, hiding in the crook of her neck.

“Fuck,” is all she can choke out, because she’s never wanted wanted a girl this fucking much. Your begging is all she needs to hear before she’s stripping you out of your top, unclasping your pretty bra with one hand, and flipping you over onto your back.

You’re throwing your head back with a soft moan, running a hand through her pink strands while Vi latches onto one of your rock hard nipples. Her hand trails down your abdomen and to your pretty little skirt. The fabric slides down your legs and off your delicate ankles, and the girl’s gawking at your panties.

“Vi, please please,” you moan in impatience.

She lets out a cruel chuckle, fingertips pulling down the fabric that’s completely drenched by your arousal.

Holy fuck.

She’s moving faster now, pulling her shirt over her head, and you don’t have a chance to drool over her bare muscles as she sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you back by your hips into her lap.

Your back’s pressed against her chest, and she pulls your legs apart making cool air attacking your lips. One arm hooks under your knee and holds tight, making sure you stay perfectly spread for her.

“Suck,” she whispers, and two of her calloused fingers are shoved in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the nubs, letting drool pool around them as Vi looks down at you like she wants to ravish you.

“Wanted to touch you like this for so long.”

Her fingers are dragging out of your mouth and down to your sensitive slit to your swollen clit. You’re already messily bucking your hips against her as she pushes soft circles against your bundle of nerves.

She relishes in the way your eyes roll back before she decides she’s done being a tease, sinking her wet fingers into you three full knuckles deep.

“Violet– holy fuck yesyesyes,” you whine, quickly closing your legs at the newfound pleasure. But Vi’s pulling them right back apart as she pumps into you faster.

She peppers kisses on your temple, whispering sweet nothings about how you’re ‘so damn pretty’ and she’s been dying to see your ‘fucked out face’.

“Yeah, oh fuuck.” you squirm under her control, a knot of passion and pleasure building in your gut.

“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” She speaks breathily. The way she’s mocking you and the depth her fingers are reaching is sending you right over the edge. Your toes curl while writhing pleasure shoots through your body, and all you can see is stars.

“Fuck fuck, I’m– hah,”

Vi’s shushing you softly, keeping her speed and strength as your cunt tightens around her fingers.

Your moans are like angels blessing your ears as you cum, gushing on her skilled fingers.

The only noises in the room are your exhausted pants, the slick of your cunt as Vi pulls her fingers out terribly slow, and the bed shifting under the absence and reappearance of pure muscle.

Except this time, the pinkette’s knelt in front of the bed.

She pulls you to the edge by the soft skin of your thighs, and piercing blue eyes joined by a warm pink tongue threaten to have you wheel-chair bound by morning.

“Let me clean you up, angel.”

Despite being near nothing but muscle, Vi’s bare body is incredibly comfortable.

“And he made a giant splotch of paint on the wall with his ass.”

You gasp, choking out a little giggle of shock as Vi tells you stories of her childhood, specifically all the stupid situations they got themselves into. The just-right bath water is engulfing your intertwined bodies. Vi’s fingers are threading through your hair as your head rests on her shoulder. Your body sits in between her legs, and your arms lazily drape around her waist.

“How mad was Vander?” you ask.

“He just… laughed. I’ve never really seen him mad, just disappointed at times.” She shrugs. “He knows kids make stupid mistakes, learn, and grow.”

You hum, nuzzling further into her. “I hope I’m that calm when I’m a mom,”

You pause.

“If I’m a mom.”

That strikes right through Violet’s swollen heart, and she shakes her head, holding you a little closer.

“You’re gonna be perfect.” She reassures. “Josie.. Gunner.. Rusty, Daisy, and our big beautiful city house are going to be so lucky to have you. I’m so lucky to have you. Never gettin’ rid of me.

You smile against her skin, placing a loving kiss.

“Even if it takes ages for my pops to understand?” you mutter.

“I don’t care if it takes a millennium.” she states confidently, a tender kiss graces your forehead before she looks you in the eyes.

“I love you, cherry.”

And this time, you’re done holding back.

“I love you, Violet.”

Your fingers, hearts, and lips intertwined as you share your most passionate kiss yet, one of the many for years to come.

Five years, to be exact.

And five years later, as the blood refuses to circulate throughout your body and your heart ceases to beat, you die in Violet's arms.

Through her sobs and shattered heart, she can only smile at the fact that all the way until your death, she helped you truly live.

silknspice

#vi x reader #vi arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane #vi fanfic #vi smut #wlw #sapphic #vi imagines #arcane vi x reader #vi league of legends

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beloveds-embrace · 1 day ago

Note

Neglected omega reader who got taken care of by someone else. Nikolai or Konig. The drama ✨✨

I hope i did KorTac justice, I’ve never written them before except König lol @nightunite pspspsps i have nikto crumbs 🙏🏻

Neglected omega reader p1 + p2

KorTac had always liked you.

From the very first moment they’d met you, they’d been drawn in- pulled by the quiet gravity of your presence and the sharp edge of your competence. You were quick on your feet, sharp with a knife, steady under pressure. Smart and resourceful in a way that demanded respect.

But more than that?

You had heart.

You’d been assigned to their unit during a joint operation months ago. Just a temporary deployment, only meant to last a few weeks, but it had been long enough for them to notice things- little things they hadn’t been able to forget.

The way you’d patched König up without hesitation after a mission went sideways, hands steady even as blood slicked your fingers. The way you’d shared your rations with Horangi after a supply drop came in light, brushing off his protests with a stubborn glare. The way you’d sat quietly beside Nikto on watch, not asking questions when he didn’t feel like talking but always ready to listen when he did.

They noticed you, and they liked what they saw.

Liked the way you worked. Liked the way you took care of your team without ever expecting anything in return. Liked the way you carried yourself- confident but kind. Fierce but soft.

But you weren’t theirs. Couldn’t be.

You belonged to 141, and KorTac had backed off, unwilling to overstep boundaries when you already had a pack waiting for you at home. They’d told themselves it was fine- they were fine- watching from a distance.

But then you came back.

Alone.

Hollow-eyed and sharp-edged, moving like a ghost through the halls of the base, and suddenly?

All bets were off.

The first time König sees you in such a state, it’s in the corridor outside the mess hall.

You don’t look up when he walks by, don’t even seem to notice the sheer weight of his presence as he slows, lingering just long enough to let his shadow stretch over you. You’re leaning against the wall like you’re trying to hold yourself together, arms wrapped tight around your middle, shoulders curled inward. Small. Smaller than he’s ever seen you look before. Smaller than he’d ever thought he’d ever see you.

His instincts itch- Omega, alone, hurting- but you’re not his. And still…

His eyes track the tired slump of your shoulders, the way your clothes hang loose, like you’ve been skipping meals. He scents the air. Picks up the faded traces of peach and rose, but there’s something sour underneath- bitter and wrong, like spoiled fruit. König’s stomach twists.

It’s the scent of neglect.

You should never have looked like this. You should have never smelled like this.

Not you. Not the Omega who had once dragged him out of the line of fire without hesitation, barking orders and holding the line until reinforcements arrived. Not the Omega who had once laughed with him under a tin roof during a monsoon, eyes bright.

The smell lingers after he walks away, clinging to the back of his throat like smoke. But it’s the emptiness of it- the hollowness- that keeps him awake that night, staring at the ceiling and wondering which one of those 141 bastards let their Omega rot like this.

The next time König sees you, it’s in the armory.

You’re cataloging weapons, checking and re-checking the tags with mechanical precision, but your hands shake when you reach for the next one. Just a little. Just enough for him to notice.

König moves closer. Quiet, but not too quiet- he doesn’t want to startle you. You don’t look up until his shadow stretches over your workbench, and when you do, the look in your eyes hits him like a gut-punch.

Flat. Guarded. Resigned.

Like you’re expecting him to scold you.

König’s heart cracks wide open. He grips the edge of the table just to keep from reaching out.

“Doing good work.” He says softly, and you just blink.

It’s such a small thing- barely even a compliment- but your throat bobs like you’re swallowing something down. Then you duck your head and go back to your task, not looking at him again.

But you don’t flinch.

Not this time.

Nikto is next, and he doesn’t hesitate.

He remembers you. Remembers the way you’d stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the rain, eyes scanning the horizon with sharp focus as you both waited for the enemy to make their move.

You hadn’t been scared. Not even a little.

And now?

He catches you outside the rec room, sitting on the stairs with your knees drawn up to your chest. You don’t even react when he approaches, just keep staring at the floor like it might swallow you whole.

Now, you look like you’re drowning.

So Nikto doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t say anything. Just crouches down beside you and sets a cup of coffee at your feet before walking away.

You stare at it for almost five minutes before finally picking it up.

The next morning, he does it again. Same cup. Same coffee. Same wordless offering.

It becomes a routine- something quiet and steady, something you can rely on when everything else feels too heavy.

And then there’s Horangi, who pushes the hardest.

He pushes, because he knows you can take it.

You had before- back when you’d yelled at him for ignoring orders and running off alone, eyes blazing as you shoved him back toward the evac point. He’d liked your fire back then, liked the way you didn’t back down even when he towered over you.

But now?

Now your fire’s gone out, and there’s only one group to blame.

So Horangi pushes. Tests the waters, pokes at the edges, trying to find the spark he knows is still there. He is the loudest of the three, sharp and quick with his words, but he also knows when to keep them soft. He finds you cleaning your gear one night and sits down beside you without asking.

“You missed dinner.” He says casually, pulling out a protein bar and tossing it onto your lap. Pushing past the bubble you’ve wrapped around yourself, yet not being overbearing or too much.

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not your Alpha,” he says with a shrug. “You don’t have to listen to me.”

You close your mouth. Look down at the protein bar. Then, without a word, you tear it open and take a bite.

Horangi grins. And just like that, he’s in.

And when you finally- finally- smile at one of his jokes?

He knows he’s got you.

141 starts noticing the shift almost immediately. Soap catches König lingering near you in the gym, eyes following the curve of your spine as you stretch, and something inside him snaps.

Ghost sees Nikto brush his fingers against yours when he hands you something, and his jaw clenches so tight he can hear his teeth grind.

Price overhears Horangi making you laugh- a real, honest-to-God laugh, a sound he can’t hear any longer even in his dreams- and has to excuse himself before he says something he can’t take back.

It gets worse when your scent starts to change; the bitterness fades first, then the sourness.

The first time Price catches a hint of warmth blooming underneath, it stops him dead in his tracks.

Because it isn’t for him. It isn’t for them.

It’s even worse to know that they drove you to it, and have no one to blame but themselves.

They let you fall through the cracks. Let the weight of their own issues and distractions leave you stranded in the dark, too far away for them to pull you back when they finally noticed you were gone.

And now? Now KorTac is picking up the pieces, with no hesitation.

König steadies you. Makes sure you eat, makes sure you rest, makes sure you feel safe even when the world outside is crumbling. Doesn’t push you away when you, big hand lingering on the curve of your spine until his scent is left there.

Nikto grounds you. Offers quiet comfort without demands, without expectations. Makes sure you know he’s there, always there, steady and unshakable. A lighthouse in the stormy seas, the hand that pulls you out of the swirling ocean.

Horangi pushes and pushes. Draws out smiles and laughter, reminds you what it feels like to be wanted. Finds excuses to bump shoulders or brush against you when you pass, just to see if you’ll let him.

And you do. You let all of them, slowly greeting them with the quietest little purr (cat activation noise).

Because it’s easier to be wanted by them than it is to be unwanted by your own pack.

And slowly- so slowly it hurts- you start to come back to life; your scent changes. Softens. Warms. The bitterness fades and the sourness disappears.

And all they can do is only watch as König takes the space they abandoned. As Nikto feeds the hunger they ignored. As Horangi brings back the fire they let burn out.

And they can’t do a damn thing about it.

Because the truth is- KorTac wanted you from the start, and now that they’ve got you?

They’re never letting go.

#noona.asks #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #kortac x you #kortac x reader #könig x you #könig x reader #konig x you #konig x reader #horangi x you #horangi x reader #nikto x reader #nikto x you #cod omegaverse

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parfaitblogs · 22 hours ago

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hard times ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid doesn’t follow through one time, and you really hate that he has a psychology degree.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: daddy issues. shoutout to the girls with inconsistent fathers this ones for you. established relationship. readers mentioned wearing makeup, a dress and heels. rational bf!spencer reid fuck i would hate a profiler bf. word count: 1.8k a/n: not a trauma dump fic not a vent fic do not read into this fic at all don't even start to speculate on my life and where these emotions came from they're all fake made up not real make pretend. no photos no aesthetics just me, a tumblr account, and a dream for this baddie.

In all your months of dating Spencer Reid, he had never forgotten anything. Not a date, not a work event. Or, at least, he's never forgotten to call. Even when you had been so busy one week you could barely spare him more than a ten minute phone call a day, he remembered what was going on in your life enough to be there for you.

A false blanket of security draped over your relationship, is what it is now.

A blanket he seemingly had no trouble ripping off you a random Friday evening, throwing it in a fire and watching it — and your trust in him — burn into dust.

Perhaps a tad dramatic for what was happening, but you were always one for theatrics when it came to your emotions. Usually, he welcomed it. He was (abashedly) similar, after all.

Not that he was even here to welcome it.

You'd looked pretty. You'd felt pretty. Past tense, for your shoes were strewn somewhere across the floor after throwing them in frustration, and your makeup was ruined after unwelcome tears had streamed down your face an hour ago. You had been ready for a dinner date you and Spencer had scheduled in only three days ago — penciled in, for you never knew what his work schedule was going to end up being.

You're not sure how long you sat in that one spot on the couch, mind going through every single possible scenario that could've happened between the text he sent you that morning saying he was excited to go out tonight, and the lack of his appearance this evening.

The logical conclusion is that he got too busy, and he forgot. But Spencer Reid's whole thing is that he doesn't forget. Oftentimes he considers it a curse. You never really agreed with him. Until now, it seemed.

The less than logical, emotionally driven conclusion, is that he actively chose to stay at work to avoid coming home because he didn't want to see you. Or he didn't actually want to go to dinner, and he didn't know how to tell you. Or his team offered to go out and he'd rather hang out with them instead of you.

Really, the reasons are endless, and any rational conclusion was lost on you. Mind swallowing you whole as you continued to stare off into space, visibly shaking and head beginning to pound from the crying.

A glance at the clock told you it was near midnight by the time you heard the door handle rattle and twist open, tired, puffy eyes blinking to adjust to the light filtering in from the apartment hallway.

"Hey. Why're you out here? It's late. I thought you'd already be in bed," Spencer rambles absentmindedly, voice so disconnected from you it only made the ache in your chest worse. As he flicks the light on and assesses the state of the apartment, he asks, "What're your shoes doing on the floor?"

You blink a few times. Was he pretending to be dumb on purpose?

You stand on cramped legs, stretching them for the first time since you'd sat unknowingly on the couch nearly six hours ago, dress bunching around your waist. You didn't bother to fix it.

Like a switch, he clicks, his bag sliding off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a thud, realisation settling into his features.

"Our date. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, angel."

"Yeah. I'm sure," you croak, voice hoarse as you pick up your shoes pathetically in front of him, the heels clacking together as you walk towards your bedroom door.

He calls your name, and after you make no effort to return to him, you hear his feet against the wooden flooring, carrying himself to you.

You're in the ensuite, beginning to take makeup off you probably should've removed four hours ago. It was stupid hope you held on to, anyways.

"You're upset. I know. It was awful of me to forget our date," he stands in the doorway, staring at you through the mirror. Even indirectly, you can't make eye contact with him.

"You forgot," you repeat back to him, almost dumbfounded. "You forgot?"

"Forgot isn't... the best word," his fingers dig into his eyes for a split second, and you watch him think. "I got caught up at work. We had a case, then we didn't have a case, then we did, so we started looking into it, and time just... escaped. From all of us."

"Time just escaped."

Your parroting wasn't doing much to further the conversation, and you watch as Spencer averts his gaze to the floor to take a deep breath, before his eyes land back on you again.

"It isn't the best reason, I know. But it's the truth," he says.

"Uh-huh," you mumble, discarding your cotton pads stained with your makeup into the trash.

"Can you stop being evasive?" he catches your wrist before you can return to the sink. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" you ask, almost earnestly. "It's okay that you forgot, Spencer. I won't take it personally at all, and things between us are just dandy!"

"I want to know what you're actually feeling," he replies, voice flat with his irritation, before he forces himself to soften it. "I can't reassure you if all I know is that you're angry."

"Hurt. Forgotten. Disregarded. Disliked. Irritated we're doing this in our fucking bathroom."

At that, he leads you into the bedroom, turning the ensuite light off. "Forgotten and disregarded are synonyms, so I'm assuming that's what you feel the most."

"You're the psyche expert," you mumble, bitterly.

"I'm not trying to be your psyche expert," he quips, and your heart sinks. "Why're you feeling forgotten?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded, for a beat. "Because my boyfriend quite literally forgot about me?"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"—No, you're right. You just forgot about the date that you literally fucking texted me about this morning!" you snap, voice rising in a way that makes you cringe. Yet, you can't stop it. "You! Spencer Reid! Forgot!"

"Don't yell at me, please," he takes a step towards you; you take a step back.

"Why did you forget? Did you choose to? Are you pretending that you forgot about it all to save your ass?"

"No," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't. I told you what happened. You're choosing not to believe me."

"How am I meant to believe that? It's a shit excuse—"

"—It's the truth—"

"—God, you can lie, Spencer! Men lie!"

He goes silent, as do you. You become trapped in an uncomfortably intense staring contest with him, as you watch his brain slowly tick over and decipher what you were saying, and come up with a response. Yours, however, splits open with your own self hatred. Disdain for what you had just said to him.

"Okay," he exhales, very slowly. "I'm going to tell you what I think, and you can tell me how right I am."

"You're going to profile me?"

He pauses. "I'm sure it'll come off that way. I'm not trying to," when you don't protest again, he continues. "I think you're less upset about the fact that I didn't come home for a date, and more about the fact that I didn't message you about it. I've not shown up for dates before. I've always contacted you prior to let you know. And I've promised I would always contact you if something came up that interfered with our plans. Ultimately, I said I would do something, and I didn't follow through. That is on me, and I'm sorry. What isn't on me, is how you're reacting. Which is childish, honey. You're acting like a petulant child, and I don't mean that as an insult, because I'm almost certain I know why."

Your silence is his cue to continue, but he pauses to collect his thoughts. Your lower lip is beginning to wobble, and he feels awful.

"You know how our childhoods affect us," he says, and the second what he's about to say to you clicks in your brain, your teeth clamp over your lip, and your eyes drop to the ground. "Reactions from parents to things we do, things others do, things they do, all builds up in our subconscious. Having a parent who didn't show up for you time and time again, built up in your subconscious. So yes, you're reacting to me not following through with something childishly. I will not take that back. But that reaction is not your fault. It's in response to a trigger, and the person in control of that emotional response is not adult you. It's the little girl who got let down by her father. I won't ever hold that against you."

Your sniffle breaks the deafening silence that follows his tangent. You allow him to envelop you into a hug, at which you break down into a fit of sobs akin to the ones from earlier.

"I hate you," you stutter out in between sobs, voice muffled by his chest.

"You can't say that while hugging me," he counters. It was true, as your hands had wrapped around his waist just seconds ago.

"I hate you," you repeat, punctuating your words with a poke to his back.

"I love you," he replies, instead. His fingers thread through your hair as he cradles your head with his other hand. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you about being busy."

You swallow the lodged sob in your throat with a hiccup. "I'm sorry I acted like a petulant child. And I'm sorry that my dad sucks."

"I'm sorry your dad sucks too," you feel him kiss the top of your head. "Have you eaten?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, and he pulls back, hands slipping down to your cheeks, catching the tears.

"Do you want to eat?"

"The restaurant we were going to is closed," you mumble.

"Maybe. But the Thai place isn't."

"I'm pretty sure it is," you counter, and his eyebrows furrow. "It's past midnight now."

His face falls, he waits a beat, before his hand drops to your own, and he's tugging you towards the door of the bedroom. "Okay. Fine. Well, the Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed."

"I asked for pasta last night and you said the kitchen was closed."

"You asked at three in the morning," he deadpans, as you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed," you mock his voice from earlier.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen rules are made by Spencer Reid."

"The rules should be lenient of Spencer Reid's girlfriend."

"Do you want pasta or not?"

"Yes," you quickly say with a firm nod. "Sorry."

He spends the first hour of that Saturday making you pasta; and making up the missed date.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort

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grimmsbride · 3 days ago

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▗▬̸̎͞/̄͆̅ ̎ ̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ι̚━─ ⠀ NYCTOPHILLIAC ⠀ ⠀ 𑄼ల۫ thanos / reader

getting caught up in thanos’s web was a mistake, especially when it interfered with your sleep.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ TAGS unconsensual voyuerism (thanos & reader have sexual relations in her bed while everyone is asleep. even though they are asleep, i still put this warning because i know some people can get uncomfortable). ooc thanos (first time writing for him). oral sex (fem. receiving). porn no plot. mentions of past sexual relations. fingering. dirty talk. unrealistic expectations of quiet sex(?). overuse of pet names (senorita, mama, etc.) etc.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ NOTES please heed the warning above as i would hate to make anyone uncomfortable while reading this fic. with that said please enjoy and i apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos.

Despite different games being assigned each day, it all felt the same — as if you had just stepped inside this odd room, surrounded by strangers that held far too many similarities with you. You couldn’t count the amount of times you flinched or teared up as you watched and heard bullets tear people apart, how their strangled cries escaped in a last ditch effort to somehow convince the ruthless guards to spare them. You nearly screamed yourself when blood hit your cheek, tainting the already sweaty area — which you gingerly cleaned up the moment you got time to.

You somehow survived, in just the nick of time too. You wondered if you had any right to be happy for your victory, or you should be remorseful for all the lives lost today. You pondered it for a complete moment before deciding doing so was useless, and not impertinent to your current situation.

Getting out with enough money was of the upmost importance, nothing more and nothing less.

Which is why you were quick to settle into bed the moment the opportunity arose, slipping out of your socks and jacket, pulling the blanket up over yourself, and shutting your eyes. The world around you seemed to cease — aside from the old man’s snoring beside you — your body melting into the mattress. Sleep was the only comfort you could afford to cling to in this situation, anything else was an unnecessary distraction.

Including the one that stood infront of you, taking form as a purple-haired devil.

You never intended to get entangled with any of the other contestants. You could smile and cheer together, but it wasn’t a secret how quickly that relationship could turn sour. Mixing any type of deeper attachments just seemed like a bad idea.

But you fucked up horribly, one thing leading to another, with you in the arms of a man named Thanos, who said just the right words at the time.

You promised yourself that one time was it, you wouldn’t slip up again. You couldn’t afford to slip up anyway.

“Thanos.. go away.” You murmured, courteous of the other contestants around you. You wondered if the two of you were the only ones awake.

Through the dimmed room you could spot Thanos tilting his head, elbow pressing against your bed as he leaned closer.

“C’mon don’t be like that.. just checking on you.”

You rolled your eyes, growing more frustrated by the minute. You desperately wanted sleep- actually, you needed it. You refused to suffer the next morning, especially since your life was literally on the line. You adjusted your pillow, basically staring daggers into the man.

“I’m fine, now, go to your own bed—“

“And.. I’m also cold.”

You blinked rapidly, nearly slapping that stupid smile right off his face. You decided to turn your back to him, ignoring that soft sound of disapproval he released.

“Wear your jacket or something.. hell— steal your friend’s blanket. Just let me sleep.”

You chose to ignore the second sound he released, which seemed to be an unusually pitiful whine, mixed with an obnoxious groan. You wanted to tell him off for his volume, but decided not to— trying to seem as stern as possible so he could finally leave you alone.

But Thanos wasn’t the type to let up, something you quickly learned the moment you met him. Seeing as his fingers began to graze your blanket, rising closer just so his lips were hovering over your ear.

“But you’re right here.. can’t we share some warmth until morning? You wouldn’t want me to freeze, right?”

Thanos’s words were tempting, as usual. Whether you liked to admit it or not, he knew just what to say. Which is why you called him a devil, a sickening demon with that silver tongue.

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to fight mind over matter. Not only was this bad for your sleep, you were also at risk for breaking some unknown rule. And if you got shot over cuddling, you would definitely haunt this place like a vengeful spirit.

But in the end you gave in, the reason fleeting at the moment. You could only focus on the fact he would hopefully shut up when he got what he wanted. So, wordlessly, you brought up the blanket behind you; hearing his small giddy voice as he climbed in with you.

At least the man was nice enough to allow most of the blanket to cover you, the rest of your exposed self covered by his larger frame. Thanos made quick work of wrapping his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him as his face found your neck.

“You have to leave before morning.”

Whether acknowledging you or not, the man just let out a hum, lips treading across your warm skin in the process. With a shiver you attempted to focus on sleep, admitting to yourself that the extra warmth was comforting. It also allowed you to truly relax, knowing your back was covered— literally.

Your hand found the back of his, fingers spreading along it as your eyes settled shut. You felt your self slipping in slowly, body growing heavier as that relaxation began to reach its peak.

Only to tumble down the moment you felt a thumb play at the waistband of your pants.

“Thanos..”

“Hm?”

You slowly turned your head, tight-lipped and squinting at him through the darkness. “Don’t fucking hm, me— what are you doing?”

The shit-eating grin that developed was telling, his thumb now slithering under your shirt and rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Not a thing.. yet.”

“We’re supposed to be sleeping!”

The man was quick to raise his free hand, placing a taunting finger to his lips. “Don’t wake the others Señorita, that’ll be just plain rude.” The circles on your skin continued, Thanos closer as his lips brushed against your own yet didn’t fully touch.

“This will help you sleep better. Erasing alll your worries in the blink of an eye.” He breathed, eyes flicking low as if attempting to see beneath the blanket. Instead his hand did the seeing for him, fingers breaching your pants and underwear; tips stroking your soft cunt. He couldn’t help the little twitch of a smile the moment he felt you release a strangled breath, using two long fingers to spread you open to his hand.

And when your lips parted to speak, his own covered them; a gentle kiss that caused your mind to grow dizzy. You couldn’t help your legs spreading, hand wrapping around Thanos’s wrist the moment you felt him at your clit. He rolled his thumb so perfectly, applying delicious pressure to the little bud that caused you to see stars.

The moment you needed to breathe you regretted leaving his lips, seeing as you struggled to keep your voice down. He wasn’t even touching you much yet here you were, panting and releasing the softest moan. With a quick raise of your hand, you covered your mouth— teeth biting into the flesh the moment you felt a finger slowly sink into your wetness.

“Wish I could see..” The soft comment made you groan softly, hips rising the moment he began to piston his finger. Within moments a second was joining, scissoring you open and plunging deeper then your own fingers could. Your eyebrows knitted close, the pain of your bite washing away with each thrust of his digits.

“Thanos.. please..”

“Oh no.. keep your voice to yourself— I wouldn’t want anyone else to hear how pretty you sound.”

As usual his words held such a teasing tone, face moving back to your neck to kiss and bite gently. Even with his small request the man wasn’t making the situation any easier, especially when his thumb moved right back to your sensitive clit; rubbing those same dizzy inducing circles.

You felt way too good right now, your body practically shaking with how much you struggled to keep in. The thought of anyone waking up right now with you in this state — under the mercy of a certain purple-haired, tattooed rapper — was a thought you couldn’t even imagine without your heart pounding with anxiety.

The best thing to do would be to push him off before things progressed. You hadn’t a clue how far he wanted to take this, nor did you think it would end in time for the lights to cut on. And Thanos wasn’t a creep, he would listen to you the moment you expressed actual discomfort from the situation. But you weren’t, that pain you felt all day, that anguish; did truly wash away in seconds just from the flick of his fingers.

The thrusts against your velvety, soaked walls were perfect— your eyes rolling to find your skull the moment the ferocity increased. A metallic taste invaded your mouth from how bad you were biting yourself, but you didn’t care; it was a concern for morning [Name], not horny [Name] who was currently being cared for by the hottest contestant in this god forsaken place.

“Oh, all this clenching— you’re close aren’t you? Can barely get my fingers out.”

The smile in his speech was obvious, breath fanning against your skin as he urged you more and more; curling his fingers just right to hear your muffled sounds peak into a small squeal.

Your nails dragged across his tattooed hand, feeling it flex with each movement of his fingers. Your mind was growing cloudy, barely being able to register the words that were being pressed right against your ear.

“How about I get a taste, huh? Wanna come all in my mouth, mama.. it’ll be such an easy clean up.”

Before you could even think to speak Thanos was pulling his hand out from within you. You had little time to protest when you felt him grabbing your blanket, pulling it over his body as he crawled down your own. Your eyes slowly widened, realizing his words and actions; a new sheen of sweat finding your skin. Your nerves were on fine at this point, inner mind screaming to tell him to do anything else but that.

However, the moment you felt him pulling down your pants and his lips finding your pretty cunt, all hope was lost. The back of your head quickly found your pillow, hand going right back to your mouth to bite down even harsher than before. His tongue exited his mouth in a long stride, gliding across your wet center, and parting you easily.

Thanos created similar ministrations with the tip of his tongue like his thumb, circling your bud and slowly pulling it between his lips. There, he began to suck, the sound noisy but muffled by your blankets and other’s snoring.

Muffled gasps pushed against your skin, hips rising and legs closing around his head; bringing him even closer to you. The peak that was steadily approached seemed to pick up speed far too quickly, your mind turning to mush.

No more were you number so-so, victim to madmen and their sick games. No, you were simply [Name], moaning wantonly with little care for the environment around you.

Your other hand slithered under the blanket, finding his hair and tugging the soft tresses; feeling them stick between the gaps of your fingers. Shamelessly you rubbed against his face, desperate for that sweet release. Your pussy convulsed with each struggled breath you took, stars impeding your vision as you got closer and closer.

You felt it before you heard it, Thanos’s sweet urges right into your pussy. His wet words of make me a mess, pretty girl— don’t hold back on me now, causing you to tip over the line.

His mouth latched to you, drinking up your release as if you tasted better than any drug within his cross. It didn’t help he was practically praising your taste, a sloppy groan being delivered right into your pussy. Gingerly, Thanos licked you clean, assuring not a single drop was left.

Only when the man was fully satisfied did he let up, climbing up from the blanket and popping his head out to look down at you.

“See, it helped— you can barely keep your eyes open right now.”

You released a soft breath, a mix of a chuckle and a sigh as you stared up at the man. “You gonna let me sleep now?” You spoke softly, watching his wet lips curl into a gentle smile.

“Of course. Good night, [Name].”

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thatlowvice · 2 days ago

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Actually I have more to say about Tourism: My tags from my answer to this poll below:

#depends on the tourists#when people were here for the NFL draft#I wanted to start robbing them#People should have a healthy fear of Detroit#not an irrational (racist) fear#but a healthy one

I think Every Tourist at Every Location that Has Tourism Should have a Healthy Fear of their location. And by fear I mean Respect.

Whereever you are lucky enough to be a tourist, it is Not Your Home. It's home to other people so conduct yourself respectfully and As a Guest.

#Visit places!#see new things!#but don't be an asshole #Just because a Place is “shitty” to you doesn't negate the fact people live there #and Pick up your damn trash

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pearlispunk · 14 hours ago

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How'd that get there, Mr. Miller?

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip. tags: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 2.9K

a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !

“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table.

Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?

“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house.

Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel.

Joel.

Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.

Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better.

Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older.

You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.

The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn.

As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”

“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.

Well? Do you know any better?

The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples.

You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else– instead of checking out your dad’s friend.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly.

Joel.

Need you, Joel.

You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers.

Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel.

Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.

He was watching you.

Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin.

You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.

It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him.

After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.

About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot.

As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room.

Was he..?

You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline.

“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?”

Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.

You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat.

You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed.

“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him.

“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in.

��J-Joel.” You strain.

“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.”

“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.

His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits.

“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole.

“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him.

There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw.

“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release.

And just then, he pulls out.

“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break.

“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips.

His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.

“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.

He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you.

You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours.

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you?

red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joeldjarin @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk

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leighsartworks216 · 2 days ago

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If You're Quiet During Sex (Headcanons)

Sylus x gn!Reader + Zayne x gn!Reader (separate)

Had this thought because I'm quiet During so I got a little self-deprecating about what they'd think about it... but then I remembered the boys would never make me feel ashamed for that shit

Warnings: sexual content

Word Count: 434 (cool, it's like a little kissy face)

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus

Probably thinks he's not making you feel good enough at first

Shocked when you orgasm because you were so quiet, surely he didn't make you cum already???

Brings it up right away, asks if you liked it

Admits that he expected you to make more noise

If it's purely from inexperience or anxiety, he's more than happy to spend time breaking down those barriers. He won't force you to make noise, but he's definitely more forthcoming with his own sounds to encourage you. Any sound you do make, he's praising you for it and trying to draw it out of you again

If moaning really just isn't your thing, he just asks that you tell him if something feels good or bad. He wants to pleasure you, and he wants to make sure he's doing things you like when he might not notice your little tells in the heat of the moment

Either way, he does keep track of your tells. If you close your eyes and tilt your head back, mouth hanging open, small whimpers or shivers - he's looking for whatever it is that tells him you're enjoying yourself

He's moderately noisy during sex. He'll moan and talk, but it's not like he's trying to project it. It's more close to you, contained in the space between you both, but not so quiet he has to be in your ear to hear it

Zayne

I feel like he wouldn't question it as much

Because he's also not very vocal

He himself is very breathy and whines a little, but full moans are few and far between

Communicates a LOT about what you do and don't enjoy before, during and after

Sometimes requests you to speak (*ahem* "Say my name..." from Silent Poem, I'm looking at you), but never pushes you to be loud

If you're quiet because of anxiety or inexperience, he's as reassuring and encouraging as he can be. Would honestly be so proud of you if you start being louder and more vocal over time, because it means you're comfortable with him and that means the world to him. Says as much afterward, cuddling you and nuzzling into your neck with a lovestruck grin as he does

I wonder if you couldn't also influence him into being more noisy during sex. Command or beg him to say your name, tell you how good he feels, suck and bite at his most sensitive spots until he's a whining, simpering mess.....

Imagine his own surprise when you touch him and he lets out a very loud moan that even he wasn't expecting

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

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elryuse · 3 days ago

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ANTHEM pt.2

Multiple Female Idols X Male Reader

Tags : HAREM, MULTIPLE FEMALE LOVE INTEREST, BLACKMAIL, SEDCUTION

Words : 3,4k

For My Other ANTHEM Stories, Please Kindly Check Over Here. Hope You Guys Enjoyed It.

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow over Y/n’s room. He stretched lazily, his mind still hazy from the events of the night before. The memory of Karina’s touch lingered on his skin like a delicate burn, and he couldn’t help but smile as he replayed their secret moments in his head. But the smile faltered when he remembered Winter—her sly grin, the photo she took, and the way she had left him with that ominous promise.

Y/n dressed quickly, trying to push his unease aside as he headed to the practice studio. The other members were already there, gathered in their usual spots, chatting and stretching. Karina caught his eye immediately, her lips curving into the faintest smile. They didn’t speak, but the warmth in her gaze was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

“Good morning, oppa!” Wonyoung chirped, waving energetically. Her bubbly energy was infectious, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh as he returned the greeting. Yujin gave him a playful wink, while Chaewon and Yeji exchanged knowing smirks. It was always hard to tell if they were teasing him or just being their usual mischievous selves.

But then Winter walked in, and the atmosphere shifted.

She sauntered into the room with an air of confidence that demanded attention, her eyes locking onto Y/n’s almost instantly. There was something about the way she looked at him—like she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Y/n’s stomach twisted as she approached, her lips curling into a smirk that made his pulse quicken.

“Morning, everyone,” Winter said sweetly, though her gaze never left Y/n. “I was thinking of grabbing some coffee. Oppa, you should come with me. I need someone strong to carry all the drinks.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “Unless anyone else wants something?”

The others murmured their orders, barely paying attention as they continued their warm-ups. Y/n hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Before he could protest, Winter turned to him, her phone already in hand. She tapped the screen once, and Y/n felt his blood run cold.

It was a photo—blurry but unmistakable. Him and Karina, tangled together in his bed. His heart slammed against his ribs as Winter leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Let’s go, bae,” she purred, slipping her arm through his.

Y/n’s mouth went dry. He glanced at Karina, who was watching them with a frown of confusion, clearly unaware of what was happening. Unable to think of a way out, he nodded stiffly and followed Winter out of the room.

The walk to the café was tense, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. Winter hummed a tune under her breath, her fingers brushing against his arm every so often as if to remind him she was still there. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Relax, oppa,” she said, her tone light but laced with something darker. “I’m not going to bite… yet.”

Y/n swallowed hard. “Winter, what do you want?”

She stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression suddenly serious. “What do you think I want?” she countered, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. Her perfume enveloped him, sweet and intoxicating.

“I don’t know,” Y/n admitted, his voice shaky. “But if you’re planning to blackmail me—”

Winter cut him off with a low laugh. “Blackmail? That’s such a harsh word. Let’s call it… negotiation.” She reached up, her fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw. “You see, oppa, I’ve always been curious about you. The only guy in our group, surrounded by all these beautiful women…” Her hand slid down to his chest, resting over his pounding heart. “And yet, you only seem to have eyes for Karina.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. “Winter…”

“Shh,” she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything. Just listen.” Her eyes locked onto his, gleaming with a mix of mischief and desire. “I’m not asking you to stop whatever it is you’re doing with Karina. I’m just saying… why limit yourself? After all, sharing is caring, right?”

Before Y/n could react, Winter closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both demanding and teasing. He froze, torn between pushing her away and giving in to the heat building between them. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against his in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing was uneven. “Think about it, oppa,” she murmured, her voice husky. “No one has to know. Not Karina, not the others… just us.”

Y/n’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt, desire, and fear. He opened his mouth to respond, but Winter pressed a finger to his lips again, silencing him.

“No need to answer now,” she said with a sly smile. “We’ve got plenty of time.” With that, she turned and continued walking toward the café, leaving Y/n standing there, his heart pounding and his world spinning out of control.

As he followed her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to spiral even further out of his grasp. And the worst part? A small, traitorous part of him wasn’t entirely opposed to Winter’s proposition.

The café was bustling with activity when Y/n and Winter arrived, the chatter of customers filling the air. Winter’s hand lingered on his arm a moment longer than necessary as they stepped inside, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. She flashed him a mischievous smile, one that made his stomach twist in a mix of anticipation and dread.

“Let’s grab our drinks,” she said, her voice light and breezy, as if nothing unusual had happened between them. But the glint in her eyes betrayed her casual tone. She sauntered over to the counter, hips swaying slightly, and Y/n followed, his heart still racing from their earlier conversation.

As they waited in line, Winter leaned closer to him, her breath warm against his ear. “You know,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, “this place has the best storage closet. Perfect for… private conversations.”

Y/n stiffened, his pulse quickening. He glanced at her, trying to gauge whether she was serious or just toying with him again. But the way she looked at him—her lips parted, her gaze heavy with intent—told him everything he needed to know.

Before he could protest, Winter grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the line, leading him down a narrow hallway toward the back of the café. His mind screamed at him to stop, to turn around, but his body betrayed him, following her willingly. The thrill of danger, the forbidden nature of what they were about to do, was intoxicating.

She pushed open the door to the storage closet, a small, dimly lit space filled with shelves of supplies. As soon as they were inside, she closed the door behind them, plunging them into near darkness. The only light came from a crack under the door, casting faint shadows across their faces.

Winter didn’t waste any time. She pressed herself against him, her hands sliding up his chest. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” she whispered, her voice dripping with confidence. “Admit it, oppa. You want this.”

Y/n’s breathing grew shallow, his resolve crumbling under the weight of her words. “Winter, we shouldn’t—” he started, but she cut him off with a sharp look.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said, her tone firm yet playful. “I can see it in your eyes. You like the risk. You like the idea of doing something you know you shouldn’t.”

He couldn’t deny it. The truth was, there was something undeniably thrilling about being alone with her like this, knowing how wrong it was. And Winter knew exactly how to exploit that.

She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging gently as she brought his face closer to hers. Their lips met in a searing kiss, full of pent-up desire and reckless abandon. Y/n’s hands found her waist, pulling her even closer as their bodies pressed together. The heat between them was overwhelming, a fire that threatened to consume them both.

Winter broke the kiss, her breathing uneven, and began unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, sending shivers down his spine. “So strong,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “No wonder Karina can’t keep her hands off you.”

The mention of Karina made Y/n flinch, guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. But Winter didn’t give him time to dwell on it. She kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue exploring his mouth with a hunger that left him dizzy.

Her hands trailed lower, unbuckling his belt with nimble fingers. Y/n’s breath hitched as she reached for the waistband of his pants, her touch deliberate and unhurried. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, erasing any lingering doubts.

Winter dropped to her knees, her eyes locking with his as she slowly pulled down his pants. The intensity of her gaze made his heart race even faster. She ran her hands up his thighs, her touch feather-light, before leaning in and placing a soft kiss just below his navel.

Y/n’s head fell back against the wall, a low groan escaping his lips as Winter continued to tease him. She took her time, savoring every reaction she drew from him. When she finally took him into her mouth, he couldn’t hold back a gasp, his fingers tangling in her hair.

The room felt impossibly hot, their bodies slick with sweat as the tension between them reached its peak. Winter paused, looking up at him with a wicked grin. “You taste amazing,” she purred, before licking a trail of sweat from his stomach. “Salty… and so addictive.”

Her playful gesture sent another wave of desire crashing over him. He pulled her up, crushing his lips to hers as he fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. Once it was off, he cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra, eliciting a soft moan from her.

Winter arched into his touch, her hands working quickly to remove the rest of their clothes. They stumbled backward, knocking over a stack of boxes as they moved. The sound of clattering items echoed in the small space, but neither of them cared. All that mattered was the electric connection between them, the undeniable need driving them forward.

When they finally came together, it was with a sense of urgency, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Winter wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back as she whispered his name over and over. Each thrust brought them closer to the edge, their breaths mingling in the confined space.

Just as they were about to reach their climax, Winter pulled back slightly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not yet,” she breathed, her voice shaky but determined. “I want to make this last.”

Y/n groaned in frustration, but he didn’t argue. There was something exhilarating about letting her take control, about surrendering himself completely to her whims. She slowed their pace, drawing out each movement until the tension became almost unbearable.

When they finally let go, it was with a shared cry of release, their bodies trembling as they clung to each other. For a long moment, they stayed like that, catching their breath and basking in the afterglow.

Winter was the first to break the silence, a sly smile playing on her lips. “We should probably get cleaned up,” she said, gesturing to the mess they’d made. “And grab those drinks before anyone wonders where we are.”

Y/n nodded, though his mind was still reeling from what had just happened. As they dressed quickly, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt creeping in. What would Karina think if she found out? And what about the others? But Winter seemed unfazed, humming softly as she adjusted her hair in the reflection of a metal shelf.

When they finally emerged from the storage closet, the café was just as busy as before. No one seemed to notice their absence, let alone suspect what they’d been up to. Winter linked her arm with his, leaning in close as they approached the counter.

“Order whatever you want,” she said with a wink. “Drinks are on me. Oh, and don’t forget…” She lowered her voice, her breath hot against his ear. “This is just the beginning, oppa.”

The café buzzed with life as Y/n and Winter returned to the table, drinks in hand. The other members were deep in conversation, their laughter echoing through the space. Y/n handed Karina her iced americano, his fingers brushing hers for just a moment too long. She smiled up at him, patting the empty seat beside her.

“Sit,” she said softly, her voice warm despite the exhaustion lining her features. Y/n obeyed without hesitation, sinking into the chair next to her. He could feel the heat of her body even before she leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing against his neck. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a thrill through him, grounding him in the moment.

From across the room, Winter’s eyes burned into them. Her gaze was cold, almost predatory, as she sipped her drink slowly. But Y/n didn’t notice—or maybe he chose not to. Right now, all he cared about was the way Karina’s breath hitched slightly when their thighs brushed under the table.

The group around them chattered animatedly, their energy infectious. Wonyoung was recounting a story about a fan who had mistaken her for someone else at a recent event, her hands waving dramatically as she spoke. Yeji chimed in with teasing remarks, her sharp wit drawing laughter from the others. Even Chaewon, usually more reserved, was grinning broadly, her cheeks flushed from the excitement.

Y/n tried to focus on the conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Karina. She looked so beautiful like this, he thought, stealing a glance at her. Her lashes fanned against her cheeks as she closed her eyes briefly, her lips curving into a small smile. It was moments like these that made him forget everything else—Winter’s scheming, the pressure of their comeback, the weight of their secret.

But then he caught Winter’s eye. She was still watching them, her expression unreadable. There was something unsettling about the way she held his gaze, as if she were daring him to look away first. Y/n frowned slightly, a flicker of unease creeping into his chest. What did she want from him? And why couldn’t she just let him enjoy this moment?

Karina seemed to sense his discomfort, lifting her head slightly to follow his line of sight. When she spotted Winter, her smile faltered for just a second before she turned back to Y/n. “Hey,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the café. “You okay?”

He nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Karina studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. But before she could say anything else, Yeji called out to her, pulling her attention away. Y/n exhaled quietly, relieved. He didn’t want to worry her—not when she already had so much on her plate.

As the conversation continued, Y/n found himself zoning out again, his mind wandering back to the storage closet. The memory of Winter’s hands on him, her lips against his skin, sent a shiver down his spine. He hated how conflicted he felt—how part of him still craved the thrill of their secret encounters, even as guilt gnawed at him.

“Oppa,” Wonyoung’s voice broke through his thoughts, startling him slightly. “Are you going to eat that?” She gestured to the untouched pastry on his plate, her eyes wide and pleading.

Y/n chuckled, pushing the plate toward her. “All yours.”

Wonyoung grinned, grabbing the pastry eagerly. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

The mood at the table lightened again, the tension momentarily forgotten. But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Winter standing there, but she was gone. His stomach twisted uneasily. Where had she gone? And what was she planning now?

Karina shifted beside him, her hand resting lightly on his knee under the table. The touch was casual, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him. He turned to her, meeting her gaze. There was something in her eyes—something soft and knowing—that made his heart ache.

Does she suspect? he wondered, panic rising in his chest. But Karina simply smiled, leaning closer until her lips brushed his ear. “Relax,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin. “We’ll figure it out.”

Her words should have comforted him, but they only deepened his guilt. How could she be so trusting when he was keeping so much from her? He wanted to tell her everything—about Winter, about the photo, about the impossible position he was in—but he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Instead, he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together beneath the table. Karina squeezed gently, her touch reassuring. For a moment, it was enough to quiet the storm in his mind.

But then Winter reappeared, sliding into the seat directly across from him. She set her drink down with deliberate care, her eyes locking onto his. There was a challenge in her gaze—a silent reminder of the power she held over him. Y/n tensed, his grip tightening instinctively around Karina’s hand.

“So,” Winter began, her tone deceptively light, “anyone else excited for the comeback showcase? I heard the choreography is killer this time.”

The others nodded enthusiastically, launching into a discussion about the new routine. Y/n forced himself to join in, though his mind was elsewhere. Winter’s foot bumped against his under the table, lingering just long enough to make her intentions clear. He pulled away sharply, his pulse quickening.

Karina glanced between them, her brow furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Winter smiled sweetly, her expression innocent. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Y/n swallowed hard, his throat dry. He couldn’t do this—not here, not in front of everyone. But Winter seemed determined to push him, her every word and action designed to remind him of the hold she had over him.

As the conversation continued, Winter leaned forward slightly, her elbow brushing against Y/n’s as she reached for her drink. Her perfume—something floral and subtly intoxicating—wafted toward him, making his head spin. He could feel her thigh pressing against his under the table, her proximity sending a rush of heat through him.

Karina shifted again, her hand slipping from his as she reached for her coffee. Y/n froze, his breath catching in his throat. Winter smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You know,” she said casually, turning to address the group, “I think we should celebrate after the showcase. Maybe a night out? Just the seven of us.”

There were murmurs of agreement, the others clearly on board with the idea. But Y/n couldn’t focus on that. All he could think about was the way Winter’s foot was tracing small circles against his ankle, her touch light but insistent.

“Sounds fun,” Karina replied, though her tone was hesitant. She glanced at Y/n, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you think?”

Y/n opened his mouth to respond, but Winter beat him to it. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll love it,” she said with a wink. “Right, oppa?”

He stiffened, his jaw clenching. This was getting out of hand. He needed to put a stop to it—before things escalated further. But how?

Before he could formulate a response, Winter stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Well, I’m heading back to the dorm. Anyone coming with me?”

The others exchanged glances, clearly torn. “We’ll catch up later,” Yeji said after a moment, waving her off. “Don’t wait up.”

Winter shrugged, slinging her bag over her shoulder. As she walked past Y/n, her hand grazed his shoulder, her nails digging in just enough to leave a mark. “See you soon,” she murmured, her tone dripping with implication.

Y/n’s stomach churned as he watched her go, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling inside him. He knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. And as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he had a feeling things were about to get a lot more complicated.

To Be Continued

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k1tty5 · 3 days ago

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was deciding where i would put each lifers hearts and then i got stuck. this is how far i got

#sphynx sketches #trafficblr #life series smp #life series fanart #i dont really feel like tagging this so .thats all #this is just a little headcanon i have but i’ve never been able to decide on everyone lmao #ummm anyway secret reason for posting this is to maaaybe ask for requests?#because i’m having a meltdown trying to draw. or write. anything. because i have exactly zero ideas. maybe even less somehow #do you ever feel like your need to create something is tearing you apart from the inside.#like it’s gripping your heart and lungs and climbing up your throat until you can’t breathe #there is an innate need in me to create and yet i have. NOTHING in my brain that is a comprehensive idea #makes it worse when i want so badly to create meaningful things . i don’t have enough brain power for that #can’t promise i’ll get to any requests in a timely manner but. you know. it’d be cool.

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jarenka · 2 days ago

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tags by @gffa

(sorry for using your tags for that rant about translations, don't feel yourself obligated to answer or something like that)

I don't want to disappoint you, but there are many edits in English translation of The Three-Body problem. I assume you can learn more about them here (I don't have access to an article itself) and also here Ken Liu says that he updated some outdated info. I don't think it's bad itself if done in a tandem with an author, but original and the translation will feel different. The Chinese reader would say that The Three-Body Problem has a natural prose flow, sexist language and uses outdated info from 2006, the English reader would say that The Three-Body Problem has unusual prose (honestly, I don't know, my knowledge of English is not enough to make judgments about qualities of the prose), no sexist language and uses info from 2014.

For me this approach that it's ok to edit the content of the book but the reader should feel that they read a translated book feels very performative to me. Honestly my first thought after reading this post and various tags was "Yes, guys, only 3% of your book market is translated literature, so you want to feel really special while reading Exotic Foreign Literature". But also, what kind of "rhythm of another language" you all are taking about? It's not that I don't know any other languages other than my own (I write this in a foreign language), but there is no specific "rhythm of the X language", literature in any language is very diverse in rhythm and style. Do you feel like Dickens, Sara J. Maas and Hemingway have the same rhythm and cadence because they all write and English? Transporting the style of the prose into another language is a very tricky thing. Ironically, I know one Russian translation that spectacularly failed at it. The Catcher in The Rye was translated in English in USSR and unfortunately was censored, so in 2008 another translator attempted to translate it, and this translation was... controversial. Imo, it was just absolutely horrendous in its tone and style. It sounds like an attempt of a middle aged Russian dude who has never spoke with a teenager in their life to write from POV of the edgy teenager.

Yes, literary translation is a big can of worms, and every translator choses between different strategies of translation what book and for which audience they translate. And some things are untranslatable at all.

For example, regional dialects. For example, German and (British) English has super distinct regional dialects, so people in different cities in Germany and Britain speak very differently, people in different cities of Russia speaks almost identically with very minor quirks in some regions. There are more difference between Russian speakers in rural areas, but even of we use these differences German guy from Bavaria speaks like a guy from the village near Tver. Cockney dialect is absolutely untranslatable to Russian.

Same goes to some artistic effects. The beginning of the War and Peace novel is (in)famous for dialogues in French. They amplify for Russian readers how actually common for Russian aristocracy to speak in French. But when you translate it into French, what are you going to do with them?

(I mean yes, you won't translate it, but the artistic purpose of these paragraphs is lost in French translation)

The same with Russian translation of A Clockwork Orange. It has slang in Russian that is supposed to alienate the reader, but in Russian translation they are just Russian words written in Latin alphabet, and they are completely understandable for Russian readers.

Some jokes are untranslatable. Some set expressions might have significance for the plot/dialogue, so translator need to use a footnote to explain this nuance for the reader.

Anyway as someone who read majority of books and translation (which is normal for avid Russian-speaker reader) and specifically goes out their way to read mystery/thriller and literary fiction translated from different languages, I feel like linguistic aspects of foreign literature is just a miniscule point of my interest. Yes, I find out about Finnish slang word for lesbian, but overall it's more interesting to see what people in other countries are writing about. Of course my experience is severely skewed by the fact that book should be translated into Russian for me to read it, but they are still books that are written for an audience in another country and about things that are interesting and important for them. For example last year I've read three books by French writers of African decent, all with different plots but with similar themes of French colonialism and relationships between France and its (former) colonies. I just don't think that you would be ever able to read from this perspective if you don't read in French or you don't read books translated from French.

"The best translations into English do not, in fact, read as if they were originally written in English. The English words are arranged in such a way that the reader sees a glimpse of another culture’s patterns of thinking, hears an echo of another language’s rhythms and cadences, and feels a tremor of another people’s gestures and movements."

— Ken Liu, Translator’s Postface to The Three-Body Problem

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sunshineyuyu · 19 hours ago

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princess treatment (j. yh)

★ summary: you have a crush on jongho, but he’s chatting up someone else. so, you end up getting high and hooking up with yunho instead. ★ pairing: yunho x f!reader ★ genre: college, smut (mdni!) ★ word count: 4.3k ★ tags/warnings: weed & alcohol consumption, yunho calls reader princess, high sex, piv sex (with a condom!), vaginal fingering, spanking, choking, slight dom/sub undertones, ig under-negotiated kink?, big dick!yunho, yunho manhandles reader, yunho is taller than reader, yunho has tattoos lol, dirty talk, intentionally lowercase ★ notes: this is the prequel to the jongho fic chained and the final “part” of this series! yunho from chained was just a lil too hot for me to not write something for him too! let me know if i missed any warnings!! ofc beta’d by the bestie @starhwas-bunny ★ masterlist | read on ao3 | chained (jongho sequel)

you look so hot tonight. you’re wearing your new favorite top—with a deep deep cut that makes your chest the center of attention—and a pair of jeans that you know makes your ass look good.

all of this to hopefully attract the attention of one choi jongho, who you’ve been crushing on for the better half of the semester, since san introduced you to him. he’s built and tan and nice and smart and sexy.

and he’s currently leaning against a wall—cradling a red solo cup and swirling its contents like he’s james fucking bond or something—and chatting up some pretty blonde girl.

you practically feel smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the two of them—the way jongho leans forward so that he can hear the girl amidst the blaring sounds of somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper. ryujin puts a hand on your shoulder and the warmth of her palm makes you realize how tense you are. she shoves a beer into your hand.

“forget about him, honey,” she says. “he’s not worth it.”

“it’s not like he’s a fuckboy,” you whine, struggling to crack open the can with your recently cut nails. ryujin takes pity on you and opens it for you. you take a deep drink from it before wiping the edge of your mouth with your wrist. “he’s nice. he brought homemade coffee to class for me the other day.”

“mmm,” ryujin says. “i know, honey, but no boy is worth it. c’mon, let’s go play rage cage.”

you let ryujin pull you away to a different room, where the birthday girl yeji is parading around on wooyoung’s shoulders while spraying everyone with bubbly champagne. you don’t even really know yeji—she’s an acquaintance of an acquaintance, but you came because you wanted an excuse to get drunk and look hot and get jongho’s attention, only two of which you’ve managed to succeed in.

you finish the beer at an alarming rate and crush it in your fist.

“i’m gonna go get some air,” you say. “i’m not really feeling rage cage right now.”

“i’ll come with you,” ryujin says.

you venture to a different part of the house, trying to locate the stairs back down to ground level, but instead spotting a balcony. ryujin follows you here, where up close you realize it’s not empty.

the balcony is big—big enough to have several foldable lawn chairs strewn around, all occupied by various zooted-adjacent individuals. you and ryujin find a small opening against the railing, and you push up against it to feel the wind blow against your hair.

“men are shit,” you proclaim, apropos to nothing.

“men are shit,” ryujin agrees.

“you wanna smoke?” this voice is new, and it doesn’t belong to ryujin. it comes from your other side, and you turn slowly to appraise the person it originates from.

he’s holding a blunt out to you, a small thin thing between his thumb and pointer finger.

it’s jeong yunho.

you don’t really know yunho, but you know him enough. he’s a friend of seonghwa’s, which means you’ve seen him at enough parties—been shoved next to him during rage cage, had him hold your hair back while you took a bong hit. he’s tall, with soft black hair, and has a tattoo of a dragon curled around his right forearm. there’s a perpetual lazy look to him—a smirk always playing at his lips.

he’s attractive, and he’s offering you a smoke from his blunt. you don’t think twice before you’re stepping closer, pressing your lips against the end of the blunt and inhaling. a low tsk comes from ryujin, but you focus on letting the sour smoke fill your lungs, all while you maintain eye contact with yunho.

“ryujin,” you say, coughing a little since it’s been a while since you’ve taken a direct hit. “can you get me some water?”

ryujin gives another tsk, but then you shoot her a look that she understands in an instance, and she slips away to “get you some water.”

you turn back to yunho.

“you looked like you needed it,” yunho says, taking a pull from the blunt and then blowing the smoke back out.

you hum lightly, crossing your arms from both the night chill and because you know it makes your tits look better.

“you’re right.”

yunho holds the blunt back out to you, right in front of your mouth. you take another hit. this time you close your eyes and you breathe it back out, letting your head fall back and your hair hang loose.

“it’s nice,” you say. “thank you.”

“anytime,” yunho says.

you continue the back and forth of the blunt a few times, until you’re starting to really feel it, which is good because the blunt is practically finished, yunho barely pinching onto it after your puff.

“last one,” yunho says, a little breathy, and eyes more hooded than usual.

on this last one, you meet yunho’s half-gaze and blow the smoke directly into his face. he’s closer than you really remember him being, but you don’t mind. he’s big and he blocks the wind. he flicks the stub of the blunt onto the ground, grinding it with the toe of his shoe. he raises his head back up to you.

“that was hot,” he says.

“i’ve always wanted to have high sex,” you say.

“i can make that happen,” he says.

he leads you to the stairs, down them, and out the front door with a surprising amount of clarity. meanwhile, you’re letting the sound of whatever chainsmokers song is playing drag you back to your high school days. an uber appears out of seemingly mid-air, and you’re suddenly in the backseat of a sedan. yunho’s shoving the armrest into the backseat and pulling you into him.

the ride is smooth, and you take it in turns to focus on different things. first, the dulcet sounds of a jazzy trumpet, fragmented and dusty because of the car’s worn speakers. second, the rushing of lights in the windows, leaving behind trails of white, yellow, a smear of blue.

finally, yunho’s hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles in that sliver of skin between your top and your jeans. it’s nice, makes you feel warm. you press deeper into his chest, your hand pressed into the cotton of his shirt.

he leads you up to his apartment and throws his keys into a ceramic bowl near the front door.

“do you want water?” he asks, heading towards the kitchen like you hadn’t propositioned him fifteen minutes ago after sharing a blunt together.

“yeah,” you admit, when the full feeling of cotton mouth hits you.

after several gulps of the most delicious filtered water you’ve ever had, yunho’s crowding you into the countertop. he towers over you, but that works because you like feeling small, overpowered.

“you sure about this?” he asks, and if you weren’t high you would’ve said something about appreciating the ask for consent. instead, you lock your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height and pressing your lips against his.

the kiss is immediately intense, his tongue roving against yours, while his hands—jesus, they’re massive—press into your sides, palms hot and fingers digging.

“yes,” you say.

he picks you up effortlessly, and you manage to wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you into his room. he sets—no, throws—you down onto the mattress. you bounce a little and fall backwards onto the pillows. you’re getting ready to bite out a retort at being tossed aside so roughly when you see his face: calm, emotionless, but a distinct darkness in his eyes.

“fuck.” you mean it as a breath, but it comes out like a moan.

yunho pounces.

he kisses you briefly, before descending to your neck, your collarbone. he’s pushing your top off your shoulder, mouthing at the flesh at the top of your breast.

“take it— take it off,” you say.

yunho obliges, sitting back to push your top up past your chest and over your head. he lingers there for a little longer, eyes running over your tits and your nipples hardening under his heavy gaze.

“hot,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“touch me,” you say.

he obliges, palming your tits and pinching your nipples. rolling them between his fingers and revelling at the way you keen under his touch.

“sensitive?” he says, all breathy while watching you.

“y- yes,” you say. “the- the weed—”

“mmm, yeah, i know what you mean.”

you reach down to the button of your jeans, but yunho catches your hands and lifts them above your head. he presses into it, hovering over you.

“i’ll take care of you, princess,” he says. “be patient.”

this pulls a squeak out of you. the assertive tone, the pet name, combined with the way that it only takes one of his hands to lock your wrists in place—it’s new to you, but you’re suddenly so fucking desperate to get out of your pants.

the unoccupied hand goes to your jeans, and you close your eyes, as yunho deftly unbuttons it, but drags down the zipper slowly to reveal your mildly scandalous underwear: red and lacy with a little bow.

yunho whistles. “y/n. that’s kinda sexy.”

he releases your wrists to use both hands to slide your legs out of your jeans. he goes slow, trailing behind his hands with his lips, which leave a scorching trail of lazy kisses. he’s looking at you as he goes, his eyes never wavering. you almost blush from the heat of his glare.

“you shy?” yunho teases, reaching up to palm one of your tits.

“no,” you say. “just- just ready.”

“mmm,” yunho says. “i told you, princess. be patient.”

in an instant, you’re suddenly on your stomach, bouncing again. your waist feels a little tender from where he gripped you hard to turn you over, and your head feels a little woozy from the sudden movement, but then you feel yunho tapping on the outside of your thigh.

“up.” one word, one syllable, but coated in dominance, and you’re on your knees in an instant, ass up.

“fuck, that’s a nice view,” you hear yunho say, and you feel his hands splay out on your cheeks. he squeezes a little and chuckles.

slap!

you fall onto the mattress, arms slow to catch yourself. did he—? did he just smack your ass? the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done in bed was some light hair pulling, but you’re finding that you don’t mind the buzzing you feel in your ass right now.

in fact—

“oh.” it comes out like a whine, and yunho hisses in satisfaction.

“you like that, huh, princess?” yunho says, his voice low.

“mm.” you can’t manage words.

“good,” he says, but even then you can’t anticipate the next slap. it’s harsher this time, and you jerk from the touch. “gonna make ur ass red to match those panties.”

it’s filthy. the way he’s talking. you’ve only heard talk like this in porn, and you’d always thought it was overly scripted. but yunho’s just talking, eliciting tiny squeaks and squeals of surprise from you that you also have only heard in porn and thought was fake.

“p- please,” you say, lower lip trembling a little. you finally chance a look back at yunho, and you find him still completely clothed, kneeling on the bed behind you with his hands on your hips.

“please what?” yunho says, smirking.

“touch me,” you gulp.

“where?”

“here.” before you can overthink it you’re taking his much bigger hand and moving it to your core, to where your underwear is already soaked.

“okay, princess,” yunho says. “since you asked nicely.”

he starts rubbing your clit over the fabric of your underwear, a feathery touch that still makes you shudder. his other hand slides up your back and settles between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

“stay still, okay?”

you whimper in response, because soon he’s pushing aside the crotch of your panties, teasing the pad of his finger at your dripping entrance.

and then he’s pushing not one, but two long fingers into you. the first thrust is slow, and you can feel your walls pulsing around the digits. the second, third, fourth thrusts are hard and fast, and his hand on your back is bruising.

“fuck,” yunho hisses. “so wet and tight, princess.”

“hnng,” is your reply, because yunho is hitting that spot in the back, and your thighs are quivering.

“turn around,” yunho commands. “i want to see you when you cum.”

you scramble to follow his direction, flipping onto your back and pulling your knees closer into you. yunho shoves fingers into your mouth before you have a chance to say anything, and you suck on instinct, lapping at his fingers and tasting yourself on them.

“fuck,” yunho says, and then he withdraws the fingers and pushes them back into your cunt. you stare down at his hand, at his arm—the one with the dragon tattoo wrapped around. at how the scales of the dragon dance with the veins of his forearm as he pistons his fingers into you.

you’re a babbling mess of whines and coos and squeals, and suddenly yunho’s other hand flies up to your throat.

“this okay?” yunho asks quietly. his voice is low, like he’s trying to be sultry, but you can tell he’s watching carefully to see your response.

this is new. you’ve never done this before. you’ve seen it, heard about it.

you like it.

you nod, and yunho smirks.

his grip is loose, but this new pressure on your throat makes you a little dizzy, a little lightheaded, and makes the fluttering in your stomach speed up. both your hands come up to grip his arm, to feel the muscle beneath your fingers.

“i’m- i’m close,” you croak.

“good.” and yunho picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you until you feel that crest of nerve endings exploding. your back arches, your head falls back, your eyes close—the feeling ten times more intense than usual because of the weed in your system.

you collapse against the bed, breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers.

“fuck,” yunho whispers. “that was hot.”

he’s perched over you now, a hand on your cheek brushing your sweaty locks out of your face. he kisses your neck, softly.

“i- i want—” you have to pause to catch your breath.

“yeah, princess?” he grins at you.

“this,” you say, your hand cupping the very apparent tent in his pants. this takes yunho by surprise. he jerks, but your hand remains. you experiment with palming him a little, feeling how firm his cock is. how big it feels even under the thick strain of his pants.

“yeah?” he says.

“yes,” you say. “please.”

“ok, princess.”

he reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off by the collar. you blanch at the sight of his torso. lean, lithe muscle. another tattoo along the top of his ribcage that you’ve never seen before. black calligraphy strokes that spell out something in what you think is japanese.

“what does it say?” you say, before you can stop yourself. you run your fingers along the words, touch soft.

“nana korobi, ya oki,” he says, equally softly. “it means ‘fall down seven times, get up eight.’”

“it’s beautiful,” you say.

“not as beautiful as you,” yunho says, and he tugs your underwear down from your hips and off your legs. you suddenly remember exactly what you’d asked for.

“so. fucking. beautiful,” he continues, undoing his belt and throwing it aside. he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them halfway down his thighs. there’s a small wet patch on his briefs, but those are soon pulled down too to reveal—

he’s big. long but not too thick. the head of his cock flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

you feel your mouth inexplicably fill with saliva.

“you’re- you’re—”

“you can do it, princess,” he says, kicking off his briefs and jeans the rest of the way. “you can take it.”

you nod obediently.

he reaches over you for his bedside drawer, returning with a silver foil condom packet and a little plastic bottle of lube. he tears the condom open with his teeth, spitting out the corner and then rolling the thing down his length. you lay back, eyes up to the ceiling. you hear the distinct pop of the lube cap, hear a liquid sort of noise, and then you feel his fingers again. cold and a little slimy, probing at your entrance and briefly nudging at your sensitive clit.

“you ready?” he says, lining himself up.

“mm.”

he pushes in slowly, and it takes all of your willpower not to clench instinctively. he groans while he slides into you, and the pace allows you to feel every inch of him. the stretch is difficult at first, but the further in he gets, the less control he has and soon, he bottoms out.

“you can- you can move,” you say.

“don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”

yunho’s hands find your waist, grip it hard, and then he pulls back and thrusts in again, but still slow. you can feel his eyes on you, making sure his size doesn’t overwhelm you. as he builds up his pace, his hips snap against yours, filling the room with positively lewd sounds that combine with his deep breathing and grunts and your whimpers and whines.

he fucks you into the mattress, stretching you so deliciously.

you find one of his hands and lead it up to your throat. yunho’s eyes widen, but he wraps those long, perfect fingers around your neck, grip tighter this time.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, princess,” yunho says. “taking my cock like that. such a good fucking girl—fuck!”

you’re overstimulated, but in the best way. lightheaded from the choking, sensitive everywhere from the weed, and so turned on from yunho’s praise. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly fucked.

as yunho pounds into you, he starts cooing and moaning about how good you look, how good you sound, how good you feel.

“yeah? you like that, princess? yeah—let me hear you. tell me how good i’m fucking you. fuck—your pussy is perfect. like you were fucking made for me. such a perfect princess.”

you can’t tell if you’re close to another orgasm, or if this is just all one long extended orgasm. all you know is that your body is buzzing with pleasure, and you feel really fucking good.

eventually, yunho’s thrusts grow faster and more erratic. he gives one final push and stays buried in you, chest rising and falling.

he pulls out slowly, checking to make sure the condom worked.

“fuck, that was good,” he says, breathless.

“yeah,” you agree, boneless.

yunho swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking off the condom and tying it up before throwing it into a trash can. you’re a bit miffed that he is already fully operational, while you feel like you had all of your inner organs rearranged.

“give me a sec, princess,” he says, as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants. “i’ll get you some water and get you cleaned up. just relax.”

your head still feels a little woozy, but you slowly come back to your senses as you hear yunho bustle around outside. finally, he comes back into the room guzzling a chilled bottle of water. he recaps it and hands it to you. you drink deeply as you feel yunho wipe at your thighs with something warm and wet. the cool water reinvigorates your throat after having yunho’s hand pressed against it.

“you good?” he says. “i wasn’t too hard or anything?”

“no,” you say. “no, it was good. i liked it.”

“good girl,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting your head. it’s mildly patronizing, and but you’re to tired to retort back.

he shifts deeper onto the bed to lean back against the headboard, running his fingers along your spine. it’s relaxing and—together with the water—helps you ground yourself as you feel the last remnants of weed and arousal fog clear from your mind.

“you like jongho, right?” he asks, apropos to nothing.

you choke. you spend the next few seconds spluttering and coughing while yunho rubs your back soothingly.

“i don’t- why are you—?”

“that’s why you were all sad at first, right?” yunho says. “on the balcony?”

you stare at him, finally able to breathe properly.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me.”

yunho hums. “i don’t know about that—” and he pinches your back when you open your mouth to protest “—but i don’t mind being your fuck buddy while you get over him.”

you purse your lips. truth be told it was good sex, but your… thing for jongho isn’t something that you can just get over with a couple good fucks and some weed. you don’t know how to tell yunho—someone you’ve only really ever been around either drunk or high or both—about pulling all-nighters with jongho to finish your homework together, sleepy and giggly and delirious; or how he knows your coffee order without ever having asked; or the way his eyes crinkle when you show him a funny meme.

so, you settle with a small smile and a peck to yunho’s jaw.

“i’ll consider it,” you say, and you get up to start redressing. you’re sobering up properly now, and the flimsy top you’d been wearing before feels a little scandalous for your current mental state. after hesitating briefly, you grab yunho’s discarded top and put it on.

“well shit, when you do stuff like that,” yunho says, running his eyes over how his shirt dwarfs you.

“i’m- i’m cold,” you mutter.

yunho just laughs, ruffling his hair.

“hey—you hungry?”

he takes you to the 24/7 burger joint just outside his apartment, harsh fluorescent lights and greasy air doing their best to sober you up even more. he orders and pays for you, while you slide into a corner booth to avoid anyone seeing how utterly fucked out you look: hair in a messy bun to hide the knots, body swimming in yunho’s shirt, mascara smeared under your eyes, and hand constantly on your neck to cover up the massive hickey you discovered while peeing—when had yunho even given it to you?

yunho scoots into the seat opposite you with a handful of napkins and a little paper cup of spicy ketchup. after you receive your tray of food, you and yunho spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the basics when you both realize that you don’t know much about each other.

it’s easy to talk to yunho, whose light chuckles and lazy smiles are comforting. while you might not take him up on the fuck buddy proposal, you just might keep him around as a friend.

you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and you reach for it to see a text from san, asking if you’re okay.

to: san

[1:40 AM] yeah i’m good

[1:40 AM] actually can u come pick me up. i’m at the burger place on 8th.

from: san

[1:42 AM] yeah omw

you slip the phone back into your jeans while you sip on your soda.

“san’s coming to get me,” you tell yunho.

“oh, cool,” yunho says. “yeah i was gonna offer to take you home or something—it’s so late.”

you hum, warming in appreciation for yunho’s intent. he really isn’t a bad guy—not that you’d thought that before. he’s always been a neutral acquaintance, but you’re really starting to enjoy his company now.

“thanks,” you say. “for the food, and—the other stuff.”

yunho laughs.

“you’re cute,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose with a greasy finger. you dab at it with a crinkly brown napkin.

ten minutes later, your phone vibrates again to indicate that san is outside in a silver uber. you thank yunho again, and even give him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, your face flaming as you turn away from him to leave the diner.

when you throw open the door of the car, you find not san, but—

choi jongho, stuffed into the backseat with a slight flush on his cheeks and a loose grin. you stare at him, and he stares back. the only empty seat is in the middle.

“scoot,” you say.

“i’m too big for the middle seat,” he says, but he doesn’t make any moves to exit the vehicle to give you the space to slide into the car. you nudge him. “just climb over me.”

a low string of curses leave your mouth as you reluctantly clamber around his big frame and into the middle seat, where you finally see san sitting on the other side. you’re so preoccupied with greeting him and thanking him for coming to get you that you don’t notice jongho’s eyes narrowing at the shirt you’re wearing—yunho’s.

“you coming to our place or going home?” san asks.

the words your place are on the tip of your tongue when you look back at jongho, noticing now a small red bruise blossoming just under his jaw. this causes you to snap a hand to your own hickey, which you hope is hidden by the shadows.

“home,” you say quietly. “ryujin’s probably waiting for me.”

the uber starts up again, and you lean your head back onto the headrest, determinedly avoiding jongho’s gaze. you know that you just went off to hook-up with someone random, but it doesn’t sting any less that apparently jongho was doing exactly the same thing.

at that moment, your phone lights up with a new text.

from: unknown number

[1:59 am] hmu whenever, princess ;)

continued in chained (c. jh)!

#yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho smut #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #ateez smut #ateez imagines #[sunsh writes]#sunshineyuyu fic

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