#chuck bass x female reader

[after-hours-art]

Sister's Mister

MDNI --> MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Pairing: Chuck Bass x f!reader

Genre: rather poor attempt to smut with a bit of fluff

Warnings: usage of AI during writing intimate scene due to my incompetence in that field, step-incest, language, foreplay, intoxication of both reader and character, alcohol, mentioning of drugs,

(It's probably the worst piece of literature you'll ever read, but I tried my best, I promise)

You're annoying. Like hell. Wearing those designer dresses. As if upgrade to Upper East Side made the shyness you brought all the way from the Eastern Europe vanished in matter of days. Out of all Lily's husbands, Chuck never thought she'd marry after his father died. Yet alone marry some shady businessman from Europe. Talk about patchwork families. He rolls his eyes when you walk past him. He can't even read a fucking paper in his own living room without you walking in, that Constance uniform haven't appeared so hot to him since Blair Waldorf. He groans quietly when you bend over the kitchen counter to talk to Eric.

- Fucking... - Chuck hisses and gets off the couch.

- You okay? - you turn to him, with that innocent expression on your face. The only thing that is left of old Y/N.

- Never been better...

- You sure? You look little... pale? - you start to walk towards him.

- I SAID I'M FINE. No need to play mother. - he scoffs.

You rise your eyebrows, little hurt but you stop.

- Umm... okay... Then... shall we get going, Eric? I can't miss my first day of junior year in new school.

- Yup.

Eric grabs his bag. He let you go first, stopping by Chuck. Younger boy looks at his stepbrother.

- Chuck... I know that look. Leave Y/N alone. - Brunette boy warns before following you. Chuck rolls his eyes. It's not like he would throw himself on you. He's not dumb, at least not anymore. Days of reckless, sexually frustrated Chuck Bass are the matter of past now. Especially that he's not looking forward to being hit in the face by your father, like Dan Humprey did when he found Chuck and his little sister Jenny on that roof. Chuck has grounds to believe that out of all Lily's husbands your father looks most manly and definitely would hold back the least if Chuck would do as little as look at you in bad way in his presence.

Chuck groans, running his hand along his cock through his pants. All he had to do is to somehow make you come to him. Worst part of this plan is that he has no idea now.

//

You stand at the courtyard of Constance with Eric and a few boys from his class. They all like you. You look different. You carry yourself differently. You don't strive to be Blair's successor. As if social hierarchy meant nothing to you. Maybe that's why you're even more interesting target? You're like a pure, innocent lamb waiting to be corrupted. And, as the matter of fact - the devilish reputation of Chuck's is like a testament that he should be the one to pull you on the dark side. At least those are thoughts that run through his head when he looks at you from behind the corner. You're annoying. You won't even wear shorter skirts despite all other girls doing so. You're also blind to that guy's flirting. Chuck sighs. At least it's Wednesday. Wednesday, meaning Eric has his stupid chess club.

After classes, Chuck waits by his limousine, leaning against the mask. As soon as he spots you on the stairs, he waves.

- Y/N! - he smiles in a charming way and opens the door to the limousine for you.

- Chuck... w-what do I owe this honour? - you ask hesitantly. Eric warned you about Chuck. You know 'the Jenny incident'.

- Can't I just be a good stepbrother and pick my little sister up? - he raises his eyebrows.

- He can, but... it's you. - you say, hesitantly getting in the limousine. You put your bag next to you to create a wall between you and Chuck, just in case.

- It's me? - he asks, getting in himself. Once he closes the door, the limousine driver pulls on the roads of New York.

- Yeah. You. Chuck Bass. - you say and turn to look at him. He is handsome, and you can't deny that. There's something in the way he looks at you right now, something in the way he respectfully keeps a seat of space between you two. But you can't tell if it's a smartly calculated facade to nudge you to lower your guard, or is he really not as bad as Eric portrayed him.

- So... being Chuck Bass, is that bad? You want me to change my name for you?

- No. It's not about the name. It's about who you are.

- Listen, whatever Eric told you, I can explain it. I'm not some spawn of a devil despite what everyone says about me, angel.

- Angel? - you raise your eyebrows.

- Yeah. Angel. You seem like a purest soul on the Upper East Side. - he says, corner of his lips lifting in a smirk.

- Purest soul on Upper East Side? - you repeat after him. You catch yourself staring at him, his penetrating brown eyes. For a second, you find yourself falling for him, quickly picking up your composure. I take a deeper breath. It seems like it was the truth about Bass's charm spells. Chuck smiles and chuckles. He knows that look. Those red cheeks, that turning away gaze. It feels like he repeats this type of conversion every time a stereotypically 'good girl' finds herself falling for him.

- Yeah. Like a little angel. - he smiles, turning his head to look outside the window. The silence falls inside the limousine, broken only my sounds of the engine and traffic. You look at him again. He looks so neat for a high school senior. His behaviour, his accent, even simply his face... it all is so fascinating and attractive for you. Maybe simply because he's different from boys you're used to? Maybe because he's an American and you're European? Maybe it's that dark aura that seems to surround him? Whatever that is... it cannot be good if you're falling for your brother. Step-brother but still a brother.

//

November. Saturday. Saturdays on the Upper East Side meant parties. Including one's threw by your very own stepsister, Serena van der Woodsen. As much as it is for you to 'introduce your to society', it is simply her desperate attempt to save her reputation after the latest scandal. It's not like you know any of those loud people. You stand alone by the kitchen counter, checking out the drinks. Not every day you get to be in the middle of such a party with such wide alcohol drinks range. Giving it some thought, you down two small shots. Sipping on rose champagne, you try to spot at least single friendly face in the crowd but you don't know any of those people and Eric is not here, ditching the party for a date with Elliot. You spot Chuck, his arms stretched on the headrest of the couch with two girls who are very likely to end up in his bedroom for the 'after party'.

- Hi.

You hear a sudden voice behind you. As you turn around, you see a guy. He must be a senior, just like Chuck and Serena, since you've never seen him before.

- Hi... - you say hesitantly, trying to fit in the crowd.

- Why so sad and so alone? Let me put a smile on that pretty face. - the guy smiles and hands you orange drink. You stare at pink liquid hesitantly, not taking a sip yet.

- What? - guy chuckles. - It's not poisoned, trust m-... - he starts when he suddenly gets cut off.

- But spiked it is. - deeper voice of your stepbrother says as Chuck walks up to you two.

- First lesson, little angel: ice goes up, drink is spiked. - Chuck says and then looks at the guy. - And you... really thought that it was wise of you to try and drug my little sister in my house? - Chuck rises his eyebrows.

- She's your sister? Dude, you do not look like a fam-

- Patchwork family, ever heard of it? Or you won't because your parents' open marriage works better than divorce? - Chuck gaze turns colder as he takes the drink out of your hands, turning around to pour it out in the sink.

The boy scoffs and mutters curses at Chuck as he walks away, blending in the crowd.

You look up at your stepbrother.

- Thanks. You like... literally saved me.

- No problem, angel. - Chuck pats your shoulder. He looks like he had a drink of two, yet he seems to be still in his right mind.

- Enjoying the party? After all... you're mentioned in credits.

- I... I don't know anyone here. They're your and Serena's classmates, not mine. - you say and smile weakly. Chuck's hand wanders from your shoulder to your arm.

- So... little sister isn't having any fun? - he hums, gently pulling you behind himself as he walks to his bedroom. Closing the door behind himself, he pulls you closer.

- Sit down. - he orders as he walks to his bookshelf, searching for something. You obediently sit down on his bed. The whole room smells like expensive whiskey and some type of colone that he's using. Maybe a bit of lavender softener as maids changed duvets yesterday.

- There you go.

To your surprise, he hands you a book. No alcohol, no drugs, a book.

- It's some romance novel. I saw you eyeing it.

- Thanks but... why?

- So you can have your 'fun'. I'm not a monster, I won't keep you at the party that you visibly got bored of after the first two songs. You're our little sister Y/N, and as much as Serena needs to save her public image, you deserve something out of Saturday night, too. - he smiles, taking some pills from the bedside table.

- Chuck?

- What? No worries, I won't spike anyone's drink. I'm not that much of an asshole. Not anymore, at least.

You look up at him from his bed, your eyes sparkling a little. You're lost in those brown eyes. You hesitantly put the book aside, getting off the bed. Seeing you getting closer, Chuck puts away the pills and turns to you. Pulled to each other as if there was a magnet between you two. Both drunk, yet not losing your minds just yet. Chuck hesitantly puts his hand on your cheek.

- Don't do dumb things, angel.

Your gaze remains locked on his, as if you didn't hear him at all.

- Angel... that's a really thin line you're crossing... - Chuck hisses through clenched teeth, as he realises he starts feeling things he shouldn't be feeling. His hand drops from your cheek to your neck, gently caressing your nape.

Chuck's fingers tightened on your hip, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of your throat.

- Last chance to back out, angel. - he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. - This is no game.

Your body trembles, your resolve crumbling under the weight of your longing. 

-Tell me to stop. - he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, even as your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt. 

- Please... - you mutter. A low growl of need comes from his throat, the sound sending a thrill through your body. 

- Fuck it... - he hisses, and then his mouth find yours, hungry and demanding. You melt into the kiss, months of pent-up desire exploding to the surface. Chuck's hands roams your curves, squeezing and stroking with growing urgency. Your hands find their way to his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as your lips part. As he deepens the kiss, his right hand finds its way to edge of your dress. Of course you have to wear something short. Annoying him for months by now. His hand grips on the black material, not daring to do anything further. When you finally break the kiss he gently pushes you on the bed. You sit down, breathing heavily. Chuck stares at you, partially in horror for what he has down after swearing to himself that he has changed.

- We shouldn't. This... this is bad, Y/N. - the tries to reason, yet his eyes are glued to your body, the way the dress hugs you, emphasising all the right places. You look up at him.

- What if I want to?

- Then... - Chuck pauses, unsure what to do pursue his desires like he always did or be a better man he's trying to be since his father died and since Lily married your father. He slowly walks closer to you, dropping his blazer on the floor. Soon, he finds himself hoovering over you.

- Are you sure...? - he asks carefully, question he stated merely second time in his life before physical intimacy. When you nod, he hesitantly caresses your cheek. You're gorgeous and delicate. Like a little angel that he gets to corrupt.

- Use your words, angel. I won't believe you if you won't say it. - he says quietly, his voice barely auditable through loud music outside the room. You hesitate for a moment. Maybe it is too much alcohol, maybe just heat of the moment that finally opens your mouth.

- I'm sure. - you say as your hand finds his neck, pulling him closer to you. You part your lips a little, kissing him. As you do, his hand grips on your jaw a little, in almost possessive gesture. He taste your lips, sweet taste of strawberry champagne you had mixes with bitterness of his favourite whiskey.

A longer moment of hesitation lingers between you two, as if either is too scared to cross the line. That's till Chuck's lips start to gently pepper your neck with kisses as his hand slides up your leg to stop at the edge of your right black stocking. You hold your breath for a second when his lips move to your inner thigh, his hot breath grazing over your delicate skin.

- Easy there, angel. - he murmurs, noticing your nervousness, kissing down your thigh until he reaches your right knee. With almost religious precision, he pulls your right stocking down, resuming to the Dame on your left leg. As he pulls down your left stocking, he leaves gentle kisses along your left inner thigh, his warm breath making you shiver. Your heartbeat quickens, not only due to alcohol you had but also your stepbrother, yet time seems to be frozen as he workships your body. His fingers slowly unzip your dress, black material revealing your white underwear. In his eyes, you're now purest little angel, all in white in his dark bedroom, muffled song by Cheat Codes blasts in the living room, giving you two even more emotions to the mix.

- Beautiful... - Chuck mutters, slowly kissing you. As you gasp against his lips, you feel his tongue slide in your mouth, deepening the kiss. His hand grips on your ass, not daring to pull the underwear down just yet. If not the human need for air, he wouldn't break this kiss. The atmosphere in Chuck's bedroom feels heavier and warmer with each hungry kiss that he leaves on your collarbones and neck, making sure that he gets to kiss every inch of you. Unlike his regular self, despite being intoxicated, he doesn't hurry with his actions, as if something held him back. Could be his broken relationship with Blair, could be memories of that night on the rooftop with Jenny or awareness that there are people behind the door and some drunk idiot can enter any moment. Yet that never stopped him before. Something is awfully different this time. He knows it when you pull him in for a kiss, your fingers working on unbuttoning his shirt, soon pushing red material off his shoulders. For a sole second, he hesitates. You're his stepsister for a little over six months now. If your father ever finds out, he'll not only beat the crap out of him, sue him, but also probably divorce Lily. And hurting his stepmother, who was only good to him, isn't part of Chuck's plan.

- Angel... Y/N.. - Chuck tries to reason, but the second your hands unbuckle his belt, his right mind is gone. His eyes darken with desire as he helps you pull his black trousers off him, soon leaving you both in merely underwear. He leans down, kissing you slowly, every move dripping of passion and care - something rarely shown towards his sexual partners. He runs his hand through your hair, his lips slowly wandering lower to your collarbone, cleavage, to stop at your midriff. He pauses you, look at you, his gaze bearing straight into yours as he bites on the edge of your panties. For the second time in his life, he didn't feel like it is careless, teenage romance.

- Angel...? Have you ever...? - he asks, silent question lingering in the air as he traces tiny circles with his finger on your hips.

- N-no... - you asnwer quietly, too caught up in a moment to elaborate. Chuck pauses his doings.

- What? You're... fuck! - he wants to slap himself. He's not a first-time guy. He is not a suitable first-time guy for you. Not when you're both intoxicated. Not when you're obviously more drunk than he is. Not now.

- Chuck... - you try to pull him closer, but he only slides out of your weak grip. His breaths are heavy and deep. It wouldn't be his first drunken sex. But it would be yours. He feels something like a sting in his heart at that thought. Without a word, he sits on the bed, reaching for whiskey glass on his bedside table. He downs the drink, alcohol burns his throat as he hopes it will burn his mind. You lay next to him in your underwear, looking all cute yet sexy.

- You're so damn annoying, Y/N... - he mumbles, trying to put his sweater over your head to keep you warm. He's a jerk but not a monster. He won't let his little stepsister freeze. Even if he was close to fucking her minutes ago.

//

When you wake up, it's probably around noon. It seems like you must have passed out during last night's party. Ringing in your head and no memories hint you that you had quite a night. You slowly sit up, confused by being in merely underwear and by not your sweater on you. Suddenly, the door opens, and no one else but Chuck steps inside, coffee mug in one hand, glass of water with dissolving pill inside in other.

- For your headache, Angel. - he says as he hands you water with aspirin pill in it. He sits down next to you.

- You okay?

- Hungover... - you complain, drinking little water to hydrate your dry mouth. You look around, just now realising that you're in Chuck's room. Cogs in your brain slowly start to work as you add one thing to another.

- Did we...? - you ask nervously, the silent question lingering between to two. Chuck only scoffs, taking a sip of his coffee.

- Despite your... undoubted eagerness I had to be a bigger man. We did, however, share a few... meaningful kisses.. - he says in a low, little groggy voice as he runs his fingers across your covered in hickeys collarbones. - Sorry for those ones. Just wear turtlenecks till they fade.

- So we didn't...?

- No. You're my little sister. And I'm not some kind of a monster. At least not anymore. I got a little carried away, but I wouldn't take advantage of your drunk ass. - he says, finishing his coffee. - You're hot Y/N, I'm not gonna lie. And you drive me crazy and I know you like me too. I see the way you look at me. But... it's wiser that we'll keep our distance. We're... family now. Can't be my own sister's mister, can I? - he chuckles. - Though... royal families did marry within each other, so... maybe one day. - he leans to you as he kisses your forehead. Slowly getting off the bed, he stops mid step and turns to you.

- Oh... and Lily and your dad aren't back yet. But I highly advise getting out of my room, showering, and changing. - he says, walking out of his bedroom. You stare blankly at him for a moment before you get off the bed and rush after him.

- Chuck. - you call him, catching him in the kitchen. You look at the tore down living room, and you know Lily will be pissed. Chuck looks up from the newspaper he started reading.

- What?

Without a word, you walk up to him. You take a deep breath and gather your thoughts before you speak.

- Thanks. That... despite everything I've heard about you... you turned out to be so different. - you say, your voice is still a little groggy from last night drinking. Your stepbrother only chuckles. He stares at you, his gaze softer than usually, or just your hungover makes you imagine things.

- No problem, little Angel.

[requiemforthepoets]

you’re such a rollercoaster, some killer queen you are 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: it was a random encounter at a club in miami during lando’s first win and all he has to remind him of you was a polaroid.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i’m now done with my midterms, finally! i’ll be posting the requests soon. for the meantime, pls enjoy this lando oneshot i made. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, reader has a full back tattoo, cursing, and no use of y/n

It’s finally the summer break, a month away from all university obligations. As the summer break kicks off, you find yourself in the vibrant heart of Miami, ready to enjoy the nightlife that awaits you with your best friends. The hotel room was filled with laughter and sounds of hurried preparations, with all of your excitement evident. In front of the mirror, you admired yourself in the silk black backless dress that definitely accentuates your figure, the fabric of the dress falling just right to showcase your stunning full Sak Yant tattoo that you had gotten on your last trip to Cambodia. It was a daring choice, but you loved the way it felt, and the dress paired effortlessly with your trusty white low-cut chucks—a perfect blend of style and comfort for the night ahead. Your friends squealed in approval of your whole fit, each one hyping how amazing you looked.

“Are we ready to paint the town red?” One of them chimed, a teasing grin plastered on her face.

“Absolutely! Let’s make the most of this summer!” You replied, excitement bubbling in your chest.

The first club was already buzzing when you arrived, its lively atmosphere spilling out onto the street. It was packed—it was way more crowded than you had anticipated, and the thumping bass reverberated through your chest, the energy was electric. But as always, you and your friends pushed through the throngs of people, determined to start the night off right. You managed to snag a table near the dance floor, which is also quite close to the DJ booth. You could feel the energy of the crowd surge, especially when the DJ began playing the iconic beats of 2011 club hits.

The moment we found love by Rihanna started playing, you and your friends erupted in cheers, and memories of late-night dance parties flooding back. This song was your jam and you guys won’t let this pass, so you grabbed your friends’ hands and rushed to the dance floor. All the people began to sing along to the song at the top of their lungs, including you, and losing yourself in the infectious energy that surrounded you.

In the midst of your carefree dancing, you suddenly felt a gentle yet firm grip on your waist that made you turn. You found yourself face-to-face with an incredibly handsome man—his curly hair framed a sharp jawline, his aquamarine eyes sparkled under the flashing lights, and a small, charming smile played on his lips. You noticed that he’s a little bit tipsy, evident by his slight sway, but still managed to maintain a charming composure with an air of confidence.

“Your tattoo is incredible.” He leaned down to whisper it in your ears. His voice was low and warm, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks as you blushed, momentarily lost for words.

“Thanks!” You shouted over the loud noise for him to hear you, but not really sure if he heard you or not.

Just then, your friend—the one who always photographs, had tapped your shoulder, her polaroid camera ready. She aimed it at you, and without thinking, you turned to the handsome stranger, flashing a playful smile as your friend pressed the shutter button. The photo was developed quickly, perfectly capturing the moment, and she handed it to you with a knowing look. An idea suddenly sparked in your mind, and you quickly rummaged through your friend’s bag.

“Hey, do you have a pen that I could borrow?” You asked, almost breathless with excitement.

She handed you a sharpie, raising an eyebrow but not questioning your sudden burst of creativity at the moment. You wrote a quick “thank you” on the empty space of the polaroid, signing it with the initial of your first name with a flourish before slipping it into the pocket of the white polo the stranger was wearing. The stranger looked surprised, a mix of confusion and excitement on his face, but he simply smiled back, his eyes lighting up as he reached for you.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name—” before he could finish his sentence, your friend pulled you in your arm, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “time to hit the next club!” She called, pulling you away.

You turned back at the stranger, waving him goodbye, feeling an unexpected pang of regret for leaving him behind. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that this night isn't over yet. You exchanged glances with him one last time, a silent promise hanging in the air, your heart fluttering with the hope that somehow, you’d see him again.

As you and your friends spilled out onto the bustling Miami street, your laughter filled the night as you headed to the next club. However, all you could think about was the brief connection you had felt on the dance floor, a sweet moment that seemed to linger in the air, leaving you yearning for more.

The night had ended in a blur for Lando. After the wild celebration of his first Formula 1 win in Miami, the euphoria was slowly dissipating and replaced by a wave of drunkenness that hit harder than he had expected. By the time the club lights dimmed and the crowd began to thin, Lando could barely stand on his own two feet, let alone string together a coherent sentence.

Max and Carlos had taken one look at him and immediately decided that they needed to step in. “C’mon mate, let’s get you back to the hotel,” Max grunted, slinging Lando’s arm over his shoulder, while Carlos grabbed the other side.

Carlos chuckled, equally amused and exasperated, “he kept pace with everyone at the party. Now he’s paying the price.”

Lando, wasted out of his mind, stumbled along between them, mumbling a mix of incoherent phrases. “She…she was…beautiful,” he slurred, eyes half-closed, as they maneuvered through the hotel lobby. “The tattoo…I need to…find her.”

Max raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Carlos. “Who’s he talking about now?” Carlos asked, chuckling under his breath.

“Who knows? Maybe some random girl from the party,” Max shrugged, though the curiosity in his tone was undeniable. “You think he’s talking about some girl he met tonight?”

Carlos nodded, “definitely. He kept disappearing from the group. Bet it’s some girl who caught his eyes.”

They wrestled Lando into the elevator, which was a challenge in itself as Lando kept sagging against the walls. When they finally reached his hotel room, Carlos fumbled with the keycard, managing to get the door open while Max dragged Lando inside.

“Alright, bed time for you, champ.” Max muttered, carefully tossing Lando onto the bed. Lando landed face-first into the pillows, groaning something incomprehensible as he sprawled out, completely out of it.

As they started to leave, Carlos noticed something peeking out of Lando’s polo pocket. “Wait, hold on. What’s this?” He said, pulling out a small polaroid photo. He studied it for a moment before handing it to Max.

Max blinked, holding the picture up to the light. It was a snapshot of Lando at the club, with a girl smiling beside him. They were both smiling and looking like they were having the time of their lives, clearly caught up in the moment. Lando’s arm was around her waist, and she was beaming up at him.

“So this is who he’s been going on about, huh,” Max mused, smirking as he showed it to Carlos.

Carlos grinned, leaning closer to inspect the photo. “It has no name, no number on the back. Just the word thank you and a signature,” he said, pointing at the small initial written on the bottom corner of the polaroid.

Max gave a low whistle, eyes flicking to Lando, who had now turned onto his back, snoring loudly. “The way he’s looking at her, though…” Max said, shaking his head with an amused sigh. “Poor guy. He’ll surely lose his mind trying to find her again.”

“You think he’s going to go all in on this mystery girl?” Carlos asked, already imagining the chaos that could ensue once Lando wakes up.

“Oh, definitely. Look at that face—he’s going to lose his mind trying to find her.” Max chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“If he does, it’ll be entertaining for us. He might actually be serious about someone for once.” Carlos smirked.

Max laughed, tucking the polaroid back into Lando’s pocket. “Well, whatever happens, tomorrow’s going to be interesting for sure. But first, I’m betting his hangover’s going to be the real pain in the ass.”

“I second that.” Carlos clapped Max on the back as they both made their way to the door. “Let him sleep it off. If fate has any say in this, maybe he’ll see her again.”

Once Max and Carlos had managed to leave the room, the soft snores of their friend filled the silence behind them, but they couldn’t help but share one last grin. Lando Norris, hopelessly wasted and smitten, was in for one wild ride the moment he wakes up in the morning.

When Lando woke up the next day, it felt like the world had caved in on him. His head pounded relentlessly like a jackhammer, every inch of his body felt heavy, and the sunlight seeping through the curtains are making everything worse. He groaned, pressing a hand to his face as he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. His mouth even felt dry, and every muscle ached—classic hangover. Glancing at the clock, his stomach sank. It was already past one in the afternoon.

“Ah shit.” He muttered, rubbing his temples.

Lando’s memories was a total fucking mess. Fragments of the party slipping in and out of focus. All he remembered is that he was celebrating his first F1 win in a Miami club with a bunch of friends, music, drinks…too many drinks, clearly. But then, there was something, or rather, someone—who stood out in the haze. A girl.

The image of you on the dance floor flickered in his mind. Lando couldn’t quite place every detail of your face, but the memory of your presence lingered, the feeling of being inexplicably drawn to you. It was like trying to recall a dream that was slipping away. He just shook his head, trying to clear the fog.

Struggling out of the bed, he tugged off the polo he had been wearing from the night before. As he did, something fell on the floor. Lando blinked, looking down to see a small polaroid photo lying by his feet. He picked it up and stared, the image hitting him like a bolt of clarity. It was a photo of you and him at the club, your face being illuminated by the flashing lights, both of you are smiling. Suddenly, the blurry memory sharpened. He remembered you—your black backless dress, the intricate back tattoo, the way you turned when he approached you. You had been so close, yet before he could really get to know you, your friends had whisked you away, leaving him standing alone on the dance floor, with only the photo to show for it.

Lando’s heart skipped a beat as he flipped the polaroid over, hoping to find some kind of clue, a way to find you. But the back was just frustratingly blank, except for the written thank you and an initial on the free space of the polaroid. He ran a thumb over the handwritten words, feeling a pang of disappointment. There was basically no number, no name. It was all just a fleeting memory. He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“She’s probably just someone who came and went,” he muttered to himself, but even as he said it, the thought didn’t sit right.

There was something about the brief connection he felt with you that night, something that he couldn’t shake off. It was strange, almost unnerving, how much he remembered the feeling of being with you in that brief moment—like everything else had faded into the background.

Without fully understanding why, Lando grabbed his wallet and carefully tucked the polaroid photo into his wallet, sliding it into the hidden compartment where it could be safe. He wasn’t even sure why he decided to keep the polaroid, especially in such a personal place. It seemed silly, but it felt right to keep it there, like a small piece of that night he wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

Lando sat there for a few moments longer, staring at the closed wallet in his hand. The next race was in a week, and he had the time to get his shit together before flying to Italy for the Imola GP. But now, instead of just focusing on the upcoming race, his mind kept drifting back to you—wondering if you were still out there somewhere, wondering if he would ever get the chance to see you again. He finally stood up to get ready for the day and fly out of Miami, he couldn’t help but smirk at himself.

“Guess I’m going to be thinking about this for a while,” he muttered, the memory of your smile etched into his thoughts.

Miami was fun, and now it’s time to go back to reality. Once you got back home, the vibrant memories of the trip slowly started to fade into the background, already having been replaced by the familiar routine of gearing up for the new university year. This was it—your final year at university, the last stretch before graduation, and you are determined to give it your all. It was time to buckle down and focus on academics. After all, everything you had done in Miami was meant to stay in Miami.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to immerse yourself in your studies, your mind would always reel back to that night in the club. The memory of the man you had met—his aquamarine eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only person in the room had kept replaying in your head, keeping you awake at night. It was frustrating how much he lingered in your thoughts. You had only known him for a brief moment, not even long enough to learn his name, yet you couldn’t forget the instant connection that had sparked between you.

The way he had complimented your tattoo, the way he had smiled when you slipped the polaroid into his polo pocket—it had all felt surreal, like something out of a dream, and then there was the polaroid. You literally had no idea why you had given it to him, that was the only physical memory of that night, the only proof that your paths had crossed. Yet, in the moment, it felt like what you did was the right thing to do. Or maybe it was the excitement, the adrenaline of the night you felt that had pushed you to make such a spontaneous decision. But now, you found yourself wondering if he had even kept it, or if it had ended up crumpled in some corner, forgotten in the blur of a party boy’s life.

You tried to push these lingering and uninvited thoughts aside. After all, he had seemed like the type who enjoyed the party scene, the kind of guy who was probably very used to fleeting moments like the one you had shared. You definitely have no reason to expect anything more from it. It was fun while it lasted—a brief, electric encounter in the middle of a packed club. Still, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if your friend hadn’t pulled you away so soon. Would you have stayed and talked more, gotten to know him beyond that brief moment on the dance floor? Or maybe it was better this way, a perfect memory left untouched by reality.

With a sigh, you snapped yourself back to the present, staring down at the pile of thick college textbooks and notebooks waiting for you. It was time to focus on what was real, what was tangible—your studies, your future. The man from Miami would remain just a distant memory, one that you would tuck away with all the other wild moments from your summer. After all, you had more important things to focus on now.

Still, every now and then, as you walked to your lectures or sat in the library, you would catch yourself thinking about him—wondering if he still had that polaroid tucked away somewhere, just like you secretly hoped he did.

Lando was no better. Ever since that night in Miami, his mind has been drifting more than usual. He found himself distracted during meetings, zoning out during race prep, and even spacing out in the garage most of the time. His usual easy going demeanor was now often replaced by a more serious, almost contemplative expression. It was as if something had taken root in his mind, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it, the memory of you wouldn’t let go.

He had replayed that night over and over again in his mind—the moment he saw you, how he had felt an unexplainable pull towards you, the way you had smiled when he complimented your tattoo, and how effortlessly everything had seemed to click between you in that brief encounter. It was ridiculous, really, how hung up he had become over someone he barely even knew. He hadn’t even caught your name—and yet, the polaroid was still inside his wallet, tucked away like a secret he carried with him everywhere he went.

Whenever he felt particularly lost in thought, he’d pull it out and stare at it, trying to remember every detail of your face, laugh, and the way you looked at him. He was becoming a lovesick fool. But that only made it worse—like he had been shot by cupid, now hopelessly stuck in this strange limbo of longing for someone who felt like a distant memory. The problem was, he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. But now, half of the grid knew about the mysterious girl in the polaroid. It had all started with Oscar.

Lando had been so deep in his dilemma that he couldn’t contain it anymore and had to vent about it, and Oscar, being a good listener, and always the voice of reason, had been the unfortunate recipient of Lando’s endless stream of confusion and longing.

“Mate, I don’t even know where to start looking,” Lando groaned one afternoon, slumping into a chair next to Oscar. They were in the motorhome, waiting for a debrief. “She didn’t even leave her name, no number, nothing. Just…this. I don’t even know why I’m so hung up on this! It was just one night.” He pulled out the polaroid for what felt like the hundredth time, showing it again to Oscar.

“Well, that tends to happen when you let Max and Carlos feed you shots all night. You’re lucky that you remember anything.” Oscar teased, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“That’s not helping.” Lando shot him a look, half amused and half exasperated. “I just—there was something about her, you know? It wasn’t just the drinks. I felt this connection, and then she was gone.”

“You really got hit hard, didn’t you?” Oscar chuckled.

“You have no idea, Osc,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his curly hair in frustration. “I mean, what are the odds, right? A random night in Miami, and now…I can't stop thinking about her. What’s wrong with me?”

Oscar chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Hey, nothing’s wrong with you. You just like her, I guess. A lot.” He glanced at the polaroid again, shaking his head in amusement. “You’ve got the entire grid buzzing about this by now, you know. Everyone’s rooting for you to find her.”

“Great. So now everyone’s invested in my love life too.” Lando groaned, leaning his head back.

“You did show them the photo,” Oscar pointed out with a grin. “It’s hard not to get curious when you’ve been carrying that thing around like a lovesick fool.”

“I know it’s stupid, but it feels like more than just a random encounter. There was something there, Oscar. I swear.” Lando let out a dramatic sigh, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“So what are you going to do? Just sit around and hope she magically walks into the next race?” Oscar leaned back in his seat.

“I was thinking that maybe, I could hire a private investigator or something, you know.” Lando shrugged.

Oscar’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A private investigator? Tell me you’re joking.” Lando’s expression remained serious. “No, I’m not! Or, I could just post the photo online, let the fans do their thing. They could help me find her—someone has to know who she is.”

Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Lando, mate, listen to me.” He turned to Lando, face serious. “You’re out of your mind. You can’t hire a PI or ask your fans to find this girl. Think about how creepy that sounds.”

“But how else am I supposed to find her! I can’t even stop thinking about her, Oscar. I didn’t even get her name, and now I’m stuck.” Lando groaned again.

“Mate, if you’re meant to find her, you will. You can’t force something like this, and you definitely shouldn’t involve the internet.” Oscar sighed. “Just let it go for now. Focus on the races, and if it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.” He added.

Lando sat in silence for a moment, staring at the polaroid again. As much as he hated to admit it, Oscar was right. He couldn’t exactly post the photo online and hope for the best—that would be absolute madness and would really violate your privacy. But letting it go? That shit felt realy impossible.

“Yeah, I guess.” Lando muttered.

Lando tucked the polaroid carefully back into his wallet. He knew deep down, he wasn’t really ready to let go of the idea of finding you again. Even if it seemed impossible.

More months passed by, and life had already moved on, but the memory of that night in Miami still lingered in your mind—and in Lando’s too. The connection, however, had left an impression on both of you, though neither expected to cross paths again. You had already given up any hope of seeing him again, and had decided to leave it all to fate. If it’s meant to be, then it’ll be. Besides, life has been busy enough for you. With your final year at university, you had too much on your plate to spend time wondering about a man whose name you still didn’t know. But it seems like fate had other plans in store for the both of you.

It started when you had a week off from university, and you and your best friends decided to go on a trip to Greece over your week off. You have no qualms about it, since you really needed a break as well, and what better way to relax than exploring the beautiful beaches and Acropolis of Athens.

The trip to Greece was everything you had hoped for, but unbeknownst to you, Lando was in Greece too, enjoying his own vacation with his close friends. You were sunbathing on a pristine beach, chatting away with your friends, when Lando walked by just a few meters away. He didn’t notice you, and you didn’t see him either—both of you are too caught up in your own worlds, yet there you were, so close but so far away.

The second time was when you took a trip to Ibiza. Another spontaneous getaway with your best friends. The vibrant nightlife and endless summer energy called your name. As you danced and had the time of your life at a beachside club, oblivious to the fact that Lando was just at a private party down the shore. His friends had dragged him out for the night, hoping to help him unwind after a tough race. You and your friends left just as Lando was arriving, two paths almost crossing once again.

It was starting to become a strange pattern—wherever you were, Lando seemed to be there too. The two of you had shared the same sunsets, wandered the same winding streets, and probably passed by each other without even realizing it.

The third time was in Monaco. A beautiful city, with its glamor and breathtaking views, it was the perfect escape before starting your last semester. You and your friends are strolling down the harbor one afternoon, laughing as you all pointed at the massive yachts that were all lined up, imagining what it would be like to live such a luxurious life.

Inside a nearby café, Lando was sitting by the window, sipping on a coffee and looking out over the same harbor. He had been restless, unable to shake the feeling that he was missing something—or someone. He looked up just as you and your friends passed by outside, laughing and taking selfies by the water, but you did not look his way, and he didn’t get up, assuming it was just another passing group of tourists. Once again, fate brought you together, only to keep you just out of reach.

It was as though the universe was playing a cruel game, constantly bringing you and Lando to the same place at the same time, but never allowing your paths to fully align. You could be randomly walking down the street while he was sitting just a few doors away in a café. Lando could be entering a restaurant as you and your friends exited from a nearby boutique. It was almost laughable how close you came to seeing him again, yet how impossibly far away it felt.

As the months passed, both you and Lando accepted that what had happened in Miami was a beautiful, fleeting moment. Something to be kept, but perhaps never meant to be revisited. But there’s still a small part of you that couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, fate wasn’t done with you yet.

For now, though, it seemed like fate was content with keeping the both of you on the edge—close enough to feel the pull, but never quite close enough to collide.

One night, it seemed like that fate had finally decided it was time to stop playing games. You were in the middle of preparing for your final exams when your cousins called with an unexpected invitation. They will be flying to Singapore for the Gran Prix two months from now, and they have already secured a paddock club pass for you—for all three days of the event. The kicker? They will be paying for everything; flights, accommodations, and even meals. It was definitely a golden opportunity, and although you had no clue what a Grand Prix was or even what Formula 1 is, you couldn’t turn down an all-expenses-paid trip to a place you had been saving up to visit anyway.

“Trust me, it’s going to be amazing,” your cousin assured you over the phone. “You’ll get to be up close to the cars, the drivers, and the entire F1 spectacle. It’s a vibe.”

While you were excited about the trip, the idea of spending three days around race cars didn’t exactly thrill you. You knew nothing about cars or Formula 1, and the most you had ever watched were glimpses of motorsports on TV at home with your father. But a free trip to Singapore was too good to pass up, and maybe, you would find something to enjoy about this whole Grand Prix thing.

Fast forward to your arrival in Singapore. The sweltering heat of Singapore was almost overwhelming, but the excitement in the air was noticeable as you strolled through the paddock area, soaking in the energy of the Grand Prix weekend. You are dressed in a flowing white sundress that caught the breeze just right, paired with chic Prada Monolith Crisscross sandals, a cute beige mini Lady Dior handbag that matches complete your whole outfit, and the paddock club pass hanging around your neck—in all honesty, you looked like you belonged at a chic summer brunch rather than a motorsport event. But you were grateful for your outfit choices, especially given how hot and humid it was in Singapore. You weren’t sure what to expect from the race weekend, but at least you felt prepared for the weather.

The atmosphere was buzzing, with fans eagerly awaiting glimpses of their favorite drivers. You and your cousins meandered around, snapping photos of the three of you to send to your parents for updates, and enjoying the free-flowing drinks and gourmet food available in the exclusive paddock club. Your cousins, die-hard Formula 1 fans, were thrilled to spot drivers walking around, rushing up to get photos with anyone they could.

At one point, they had spotted Oscar Piastri, the young driver who seemed to be gathering a crowd in the paddock. Your cousins were excited and hurried up to him, asking for a quick photo. Instead of joining them, you volunteered to take the photo, your cousin had handed you his phone and took a photo of them with Oscar. As Oscar posed with your cousins, you framed the shot perfectly, capturing their wide smiles and his easygoing grin. After the photo was snapped, you handed the phone back to your cousin, but something odd caught your attention.

Oscar was staring at you, a look of recognition flashing briefly across his face, though he didn’t say anything. His gaze lingered for a second too long, as if he was trying to place where he had seen you before. But before you could ask if something was wrong, he quickly and politely excused himself, saying something about needing to be somewhere else.

“Thank you!” Your cousin beamed, oblivious to the strange moment, as they admired the picture you had taken.

However, you were left feeling slightly unsettled. Why had Oscar looked at you like that? You just shrugged it off, thinking it was probably nothing. After all, he must meet thousands of people all the time, maybe you just had one of those faces.

You continued walking around with your cousins, admiring the cars as the mechanics prepared for the weekend’s race during the pitlane walk. The energy was contagious, you could feel it in the air—tension and excitement. While you didn’t quite understand the intricacies of the sport, you were starting to get why so many people were hooked.

As Oscar made his way back to the McLaren garage, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just seen someone important. The brief encounter with you lingered in his mind, he considered telling Lando about it, but something held him back. What if he was just mistaken? What if you were just another face in the crowd, one of the many people who flocked to the Grand Prix? He surely didn’t want to get Lando’s hopes up if he was wrong because the boy is already losing his mind of finding you.

But still, there was an undeniable spark of recognition in Oscar’s gut. The way you had smiled at him, the familiarity in your eyes—it was as if you were embedded into his memories, even if he couldn’t quite place you. The thought of Lando obsessing over someone who may not even be worth it felt almost cruel, so he kept quiet as he stepped into the garage.

“Hey Osc!” Lando called out from where he was working on some last-minute adjustments to the car. His energy was infectious, his usual charisma shining through despite the long day ahead.

“Just met some fans,” Oscar replied, casually brushing off the encounter. He knew Lando was too focused on the race to delve into any side stories, so he played it cool. “Pretty excited about the weekend.”

“That’s good! We need that energy. It’s going to be a wild race!” Lando said enthusiastically and grinned.

Lando was really in the zone, and Oscar didn’t want to disrupt that by bringing up something that might end up being inconsequential, but Oscar couldn’t help himself. As he watched Lando tinker with the car, a thought struck him. If he had indeed seen you, and if you were that same girl that Lando had met at the club in Miami, then there was a chance for another confirmation that it really is indeed you. Singapore is a big place, but the paddock? Not so much. People cross paths here all the time. Fate could also work in you and Lando’s favor.

“I have a feeling we’ll meet some interesting people this weekend,” Oscar said, casually testing the waters. “You never know who might show up in the paddock.”

“You think so? Like who?” Lando raised an eyebrow, now intrigued.

“Just a hunch. You know how these events go, a lot of fans and celebrities come through.” Oscar shrugged, playing it cool as he smiled at Lando. Hoping what he said wouldn’t come off too eager.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll see. It’d be nice to connect with some new faces.” Lando grinned.

Oscar just decided to remain quiet, but inside his mind, he had promised himself that if your paths didn’t cross naturally over the course of the race weekend, he would make sure to plan the two of you to meet. It was high time for Lando to get that second chance, and if fate wouldn’t still bring you and Lando together, then Oscar would be more happy to lend a hand.

As you and your cousins walked around the bustling paddock, the excitement of the day washed over you. You were engaged in conversation, pointing out different drivers, when suddenly, your cousins spotted someone they knew and ran off to catch up. You paused, taking a moment to soak in the atmosphere and admire the vibrant energy that surrounded you. You never knew that you’ll be enjoying the Grand Prix with your cousin—it was eventful, but really fun.

Suddenly, your eyes caught sight of someone familiar stepping out of the McLaren motorhome—a head of curly hair, sharp jawline, and those aquamarine eyes that had been burned deep into your memory since that night at the club in Miami. It was him. Most of all, you wouldn’t expect that the man you had met in the club was Lando Norris. You had seen his face all over the paddock, and your cousin telling you who he was.

You froze for a moment, your heart was caught up in your throat. Lando was walking with a group of people, laughing and chatting, completely unaware that you were standing just meters away. It felt like time had slowed down for you. Could this really be happening? After all those months of missed chances and near encounters, fate had finally decided to stop playing games and let your paths cross again—and here you were, in Singapore, of all places.

But just as you gathered your thoughts, Lando turned his head in your direction. His laughter faded, and his eyes locked onto yours. There was a flicker of surprise, then sudden recognition as his face shifted from casual curiosity to something more intense. It was like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, and neither could you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a strange limbo of disbelief. But as you or cousins called out to you, completely oblivious to the emotional earthquake happening between you and Lando, you snapped back to reality. You offered a nervous smile and a small wave, really unsure of what to do next. Would he even remember you? Should you go over and say something? Or maybe he was just staring at someone behind you.

“Hey! We’re heading over there!” Your cousins shouted, pointing toward another part of the paddock.

You felt a wave of disappointment was over you, knowing that you had no choice but follow and be with them. As you turn to leave, you glance back at Lando one last time, just in time to catch him staring intently at your back. Lando’s expression shifted as his eyes widened, and you realized he had spotted your tattoo—the intricate Sak Yant design that adored your skin.

In that moment, you could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he began connecting the dots. Your heart raced again, a mix of hope and fear. But before you could linger on your thoughts, your cousins tugged at your arm, leading you away. You felt a strange sense of longing, wishing desperately for a chance to bridge the gap. Little did you know, Lando was feeling the same way.

Fate had finally brought you together again. Now, the ball is in Lando’s court.

[pandapetals]

I absolutely LOVE your stories! They’re some of my favorites to read, especially the Logan and reader being in an established relationship series. They’re so adorable 🥰

I was wondering if you could do a story with Logan (any Logan) and his girlfriend/wife (could be the established relationship series or separate). The girlfriend/wife is jealous of a female mutant Logan has to do a mission with where they have to act like a couple…something like that!

Thank you so much! <3 I had to rework this like 5 times but I think I'm finally happy with it. Thank you for the request and hopefully I did it justice.

logan howlett x fem!mutant reader - jealousy, angst, jean slander sorry–she’s the mutant who tries something on logan, some fluff at the end, soft logan, cocky logan, mission, x-men, established relationship, no y/n used, no reader description, mutant reader but no powers mentioned

The tension in Xavier’s office was thick, almost suffocating, like a storm cloud pressing down on the room. Everyone stood with rapt attention as Xavier outlined the mission, his calm, steady voice doing little to ease the weight of what was at stake. This was no routine intel-gathering run. Rumor had it that a mutant underground club was doubling as a recruitment hub for Magneto’s latest scheme. If the rumors were true, the people inside could be dangerous—either willing recruits or innocents caught in the crossfire. The team’s job was to confirm the truth without tipping their hand. Subtlety was key.

Subtlety, unfortunately, wasn’t Logan’s strong suit. And focusing, apparently, wasn’t yours.

You tried to focus—really, you did—but the heat of Logan’s shoulder brushing against yours kept pulling your attention away like a magnet tugging at metal.

It wasn’t entirely his fault—you knew that. Since you and Logan started dating, focusing on anything else has become challenging. Especially when Logan, with that cocky smirk and the gleam of mischief in his hazel eyes, seemed to delight in testing your resolve.

“I can tell you’re not listening, gorgeous,” Logan murmured, his gravelly voice low enough for only you to hear. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your pulse quicken as his arm brushed lightly against yours.

You shot him a warning look, though your hand betrayed you by slipping around his waist, pulling him just a bit closer. “I am listening,” you whispered.

Logan turned his head slightly, the stubble along his jaw catching the light. “Oh yeah?” he muttered, his tone dripping with amusement. “What did Chuck just say?”

You opened your mouth, a retort ready, but Xavier’s voice broke through before you could fire back. “You and Logan will cover the west side together. Jean and Scott, the east. Ororo will remain in position for aerial observation and backup.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course, you and Logan were paired together. How were you supposed to focus on anything when he was constantly finding ways to get under your skin—and under your dress if you weren’t careful?

Xavier continued, “The club caters to both humans and mutants, so your priority is to remain inconspicuous. Blend in. Gather intel. And for once,” his gaze lingered pointedly on Logan, “please keep things subtle.”

Logan shrugged, utterly unbothered by the implication. “Subtle’s my middle name.”

Beside him, Scott let out a snort, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah, right.”

Everyone nodded, the plan solidified and began filing out of the room. Logan lingered just long enough to lean down, his lips brushing your ear. “West side, huh? Guess we’ll be busy.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the way your cheeks flushed. “Don’t slow me down.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The mission led the team to a dimly lit part of the city where the target location—a grungy underground club—throbbed with energy. Neon signs flickered above the entrance, throwing shades of electric blue and pink across the sidewalk. The thumping bass spilled into the street, vibrating through the soles of your boots. You could already feel the tension of the place: it wasn’t just another club. The air buzzed with unspoken power as if everyone inside was waiting for something—or someone.

You tugged at the hem of your black dress, feeling exposed compared to the usual leather uniforms. The club’s dress code dictated a casual look, but “casual” for Logan apparently meant his usual jeans, a worn leather jacket, and a white shirt that clung just enough to remind you why your focus always wavered around him. He caught your eyes roaming and smirked.

“You clean up nice,” you said, though your tone was dry to keep your cool.

Logan’s smirk only deepened. “Don’t look too hard, sweetheart. We’re supposed to be blending in, not staring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “But you love it.”

Before you could reply, Scott’s voice interrupted. “Can you two please cool it for five seconds?” His voice was already tight with irritation, the way it always got around Logan. He adjusted the cuffs of his blazer like a stressed-out principal about to scold unruly students. “We need to focus. This is a mission, not a date.”

“Relax, Boy Scout,” Logan said with a shrug, his tone casual but deliberately antagonistic. “I’m just blending in. Pretty sure flirting counts as recon in a place like this.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t,” Scott shot back, glaring.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand as Logan leaned in closer, his smirk widening. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get paired with you,” Logan murmured.

Jean stepped between them before things could escalate, her presence commanding yet calm. Her red hair shimmered faintly under the neon glow as she raised a hand. “Enough,” she said, her voice low and measured, like a scalpel cutting through the tension.

Scott bristled but backed off, “We split up here. Stick to your assignments. Keep your eyes open and your comms on. Regroup in an hour unless someone finds something first.” His jaw tightened as he turned, but not before reaching for Jean’s hand and storming off with her trailing behind him.

You sighed, the tension lingering in the air long after they disappeared into the crowd. Beside you, Logan exhaled through his nose, clearly amused. He reached for your hand, his calloused fingers rough but steady as he began weaving through the throng of bodies. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Can’t let the Boy Scout hog all the fun.”

The bass thumped through the floor, vibrating up into your chest as you let Logan lead the way. The crush of people, the flashing strobe lights, the humid press of bodies—it was all overwhelming, the kind of chaos that seeped under your skin. You tugged at the hem of your dress, wishing for the familiarity of your leather uniform, or at least the comfort of knowing where the real threats were hiding.

“You look uncomfortable,” Logan said, leaning in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His breath was warm, and damn it, the heat of him this close to you made your stomach flip.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice sharper than you intended. The noise and the crush of bodies weren’t the only things making it hard to breathe. It was him—always him. Logan had a way of turning your focus into a tangled mess, and you hated how much he knew it.

He smirked, his free hand settling lightly on your hip as he guided you toward the bar. “Sure you are. Just don’t step on my toes if we have to dance.”

You gave him a pointed look, arching a brow. “Dance? You don’t seem like the dancing type.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Guess you’ll find out, huh?”

Before you could retort, Ororo’s voice crackled through the comm in your ear, sharp and focused. “Heads up. Security’s tightening near the back. Someone might’ve tipped them off.”

The playful ease between you and Logan evaporated in an instant. You straightened, your eyes scanning the room more carefully now. The crowd still swayed to the rhythm of the music, but you spotted shadowy figures moving along the edges of the space. They were coordinated, and precise—not like usual club security. Their sharp, assessing gazes cut through the crowd, searching for something. Or someone.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, stepping closer to Logan without thinking. Your body gravitated toward his instinctively, as though the safest place in the room was next to him.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Logan tilted his head, glancing toward the figures in the distance, his hand briefly brushing your lower back before pulling away. “I’ll keep an eye on you,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. He leaned down, lips brushing your temple in a fleeting kiss that sent a jolt through you. “Try not to get us into trouble, gorgeous.”

“Try not to enjoy yourself too much,” you shot back, your words sharper than you meant them to be. He smirked but didn’t respond, disappearing into the crowd with the easy confidence of someone who could move through shadows like he belonged there.

You leaned against the bar, crossing your arms as you let your eyes roam the packed room. Scanning for anyone suspicious was easier said than done with the neon lights flashing and dancers moving like one writhing, chaotic mass. Every other face looked ordinary—until it didn’t. The line between an innocent bystander and a potential enemy blurred in a place like this.

You tried to focus, but your eyes kept drifting, scanning for a familiar silhouette. And then, through the press of bodies on the dance floor, you spotted Logan. Relief flickered through you briefly—until you saw who he was with.

Jean.

Your stomach tightened as you watched them. Jean’s red hair glimmered under the strobes, her figure elegant even amid the chaos. She stood close to Logan—too close. They were facing each other, her head tilted toward him as if they were sharing a private conversation. Your pulse quickened, though you told yourself it was the commotion in the club that caused it. Not them. Not this.

You knew their history. Everyone did. It wasn’t a secret that Logan had carried a torch for Jean for years. And though he’d insisted—again and again—that it was all in the past, the sight of them together now made your chest tighten with something sharp and bitter.

Then, you noticed him: a man near the edge of the dance floor. His eyes weren’t on the crowd—they were on Logan and Jean. He stood out against the backdrop of revelers, stiff and alert, his gaze predatory. Something about him screamed danger: the way he carried himself, the faint scar cutting across his cheek, the subtle tension in his stance. Recognition flickered in your mind—he looked like one of Magneto’s men, someone you’d seen before.

Your grip on the edge of the bar tightened as realization dawned. Jean must have noticed him, too, because she suddenly stepped closer to Logan, her hand brushing his arm. She said something, her lips moving quickly, urgently. Logan glanced toward the man, then back at Jean. His jaw clenched, but then, he nodded.

To your disbelief, Jean slid her arm around Logan’s waist, leaning into him as though they were nothing more than a couple enjoying the music. Logan didn’t resist. His hand came to rest on her back, pulling her closer, and for one agonizing moment, they looked too real.

Your stomach twisted, and you hated yourself for it. This was a mission. You knew that. It wasn’t personal, and yet it felt like a punch to the gut. The way Logan leaned down, his lips brushing Jean’s ear as he whispered something—it was a performance, you told yourself but that didn’t stop the jealousy curling hot and bitter in your chest.

You forced yourself to look away, your nails digging into your palm as you tried to focus on the mission. The man was still watching them, his expression unreadable, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.

You couldn’t just stand there, not when the man’s sharp, calculating gaze kept flicking between Logan, Jean, and the crowd as though he was deciding on his next move. Your heart was still twisting from the sight of Logan and Jean pressed so close together, but that wasn’t what mattered right now. The man was dangerous—you could feel it in the way he stood, too poised for someone casually attending a club. He was waiting for something, and you weren’t about to let him make the first move.

Steeling yourself, you pushed off the bar and weaved through the crowd, keeping your movements casual. The bass pounded beneath your feet, the flashing lights making it harder to focus, but you never lost sight of him. He was still near the edge of the dance floor, his hand resting near his hip—too close to where you guessed he was hiding a weapon.

As you approached, you caught his eye. His gaze sharpened immediately, locking you like a predator noticing prey. You gave him a practiced, easy smile, tilting your head as though you’d wandered over for no other reason than to flirt.

“Hey,” you said, your voice light despite the way your pulse thundered in your ears. “You look like you’re not having much fun. Bad night?”

The man didn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes darted past you, likely tracking Logan and Jean over your shoulder. His jaw ticked, his face impassive but rigid, and he shifted his weight, subtly adjusting his stance.

You stepped closer, determined to draw his focus fully onto you. “I know this place can get a little crazy,” you continued, tilting your head and letting your lips curve into a faint smirk. “But I’d hate to think you came all the way here just to sulk in the corner.”

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and cold. “I suggest you walk away.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You’d expected deflection, maybe an excuse. Not this. His tone carried a weight of threat, and now you were sure—you’d been right. This guy wasn’t just anyone.

Feigning a laugh, you took another step forward. “Walk away? Come on, now. I’m just trying to make conversation.”

That’s when you saw it: the briefest flicker of movement near his side. His hand darted toward his hip, toward what you were sure was a concealed weapon.

Instinct took over. Before he could draw, you lashed out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it sharply. The motion forced him to drop the weapon—a sleek, black blade that clattered to the floor. He reacted instantly, yanking his arm free and shoving you back with surprising force. You stumbled but caught your footing just as he lunged toward you, his movements quick and deliberate.

You managed to dodge his first swing, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your veins. “Guess we’re skipping the small talk,” you muttered under your breath, shifting into a defensive stance.

His second swing came fast, but this time, you were ready. You ducked beneath it, stepping inside his guard and slamming your elbow into his ribs. He grunted, staggering back a step, but the fight wasn’t over yet.

Unfortunately, neither was your luck.

Just as you braced for his next move, a familiar voice rang out behind you—sharp, commanding, and far too loud.

“Get down!”

You barely had time to react before a blast of energy ripped past you, slamming into the man’s chest and sending him flying backward into a table. The wood splintered beneath his weight, the force of the impact leaving no question as to who had intervened.

You turned, your heart sinking as you spotted Scott standing a few feet away, his visor glowing faintly with residual energy. His expression was grim, his shoulders tense as he lowered his hand. The crowd around you froze for a split second before chaos erupted.

Screams filled the room as people scrambled toward the exits and the pulsing music abruptly cut off. Bodies pushed and shoved past you, the panicked crowd turning into a stampede. Strobe lights flickered overhead, casting the room in chaotic bursts of shadow and color.

“What the hell, Scott?” you shouted over the commotion, throwing your hands up in frustration.

Scott was already moving toward you, his face tight with determination. “He was about to kill you,” he snapped, his tone clipped. “You’re welcome.”

“I had it under control,” you shot back, though even you knew that was debatable. Still, it didn’t matter now. The damage was done.

The comm crackled to life in your ear, Ororo’s voice cutting through the noise. “What’s going on? Your cover’s blown—we’re seeing mass panic on the cameras.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, dodging a panicked clubgoer who nearly knocked you over. “Scott just blasted the guy I was questioning. Pretty sure everyone in here knows we’re not here for drinks.”

“Damn it,” Logan’s voice growled through the comm, the irritation unmistakable. “I’m on my way. Keep her safe, Summers.”

The crowd surged again, making it harder to keep your footing. Scott grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him as a group of heavily armed men burst into the room from a side entrance. Their uniforms were black and sleek, their weapons unmistakably high-tech. Magneto’s people, no doubt about it.

“We need to get out of here, now,” Scott barked, shoving you toward the nearest exit.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the dance floor where you’d last seen Logan. Panic gnawed at your chest, but Scott’s grip on your arm tightened, dragging you forward.

“Logan can handle himself,” Scott said sharply. “Our priority is getting out of here alive.”

You gritted your teeth, frustration and fear warring inside you, but you didn’t have time to argue. The mission had gone sideways, and now it was all about survival.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The jet ride back to the mansion was quiet, but the air in the cabin was heavy with unspoken tension, crackling like static electricity. Everyone was accounted for, and alive, but you couldn’t shake the pang of jealousy still twisting like a knife in your chest. Every time you closed your eyes, the image of Jean leaning into Logan on the dance floor flared back to life—her hand on his arm, his hand on her back, the way they moved in sync as if it were second nature.

It didn’t help that Scott was stealing glances at them, too. His jaw clenched and his hands fidgeted, flexing into fists and then relaxing again. For once, you couldn’t blame him. His eyes kept darting between Jean and Logan, flickering with something unspoken. Maybe it was the same ugly mix of emotions brewing inside of you.

You stayed silent the whole ride, simmering in your thoughts, trying and failing to bury the bitterness bubbling in your chest. You told yourself it was nothing. A mission. A cover. That’s all it had been. But you couldn’t ignore the sharp ache of it, the nagging voice in your head whispering that Logan and Jean had been too comfortable with each other. Too natural.

By the time the jet landed and everyone started filing out, you’d had enough. You couldn’t sit in this anymore, couldn’t let the tension keep eating away at you.

Jean was halfway across the room when the words spilled out of you, sharp and cutting before you could stop them.

“You couldn’t have done that to Scott—you know, your boyfriend, Jean?”

Your voice rang out louder than you expected, making everyone pause. Even Logan stopped mid-step, glancing back at you with a frown.

Jean turned, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you were all over Logan on the dance floor,” you snapped, stepping toward her. The words felt like a dam breaking, everything you’d been holding back spilling out in an uncontrollable rush. “You said you were just telling him to ‘watch out’? Really? Because it looked a hell of a lot more like you were trying to grind on him!”

Jean blinked, her expression flashing from confusion to shock and then to something more defensive. “Excuse me? I was warning him about the guy watching us. It was part of the cover. I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Weren’t leaning into him like you’ve done a hundred times before? Weren’t touching him like you used to when you thought no one was looking?”

Jean’s face fell, and you could see the hurt flash in her eyes, but your frustration burned too hot for you to stop now.

Logan’s voice cut through the rising tension like a knife, low and rough. “That’s enough.”

You turned to face him, your pulse pounding in your ears. “Is it?” you shot back, your chest tightening as you met his gaze. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Logan’s hazel eyes stayed steady, but there was a flicker of something softer and patient, even as his jaw tightened. “Yeah, it is,” he said evenly, stepping closer to you, his voice dropping low so only you could hear. “We’re not doin’ this here.”

You wanted to argue, to push back, but the weight of his hand on your arm stilled you. His touch was steady and grounding, and despite the fire still burning in your chest, you let him guide you out of the room, leaving the others behind.

He didn’t stop until you were outside in the cool night air, the mansion looming behind you like a silent witness. The faint chirping of crickets filled the space between you, but it did little to ease the knot in your chest.

Logan finally turned to face you, his expression calm but resolute. “Alright,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s get this out now.”

You crossed your arms, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “What do you want me to say, Logan? That it didn’t bother me? That seeing you and Jean like that didn’t make me feel like—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Like I didn’t matter?”

His brow furrowed, and he took a step closer. “Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “It was just a cover. You know that.”

“Do I?” you shot back, your voice quieter now but no less pointed. “Because it didn’t look like it.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looked almost... unsure. Vulnerable, even. It wasn’t a look you were used to seeing on him, and it made you hesitate.

“You really think I’d do that to you?” he asked, his tone quieter now, almost disbelieving. “After everything?”

You dropped your gaze, the anger in your chest cooling just enough for guilt to creep in around the edges. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... her. You and her. You have a history, Logan.”

He let out a breath, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of space between you. His hand brushed against your arm, his touch gentle but insistent, as he needed you to understand. “Yeah, we got history,” he said, his voice steady, “but that’s all it is—history. What we had, it’s done. Been done. You’re the one I’m with now. You’re the one I want to be with.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it harder to hold onto the jealousy still simmering inside you. “Then why did it look so... easy for you two?”

“Because I know how to act,” Logan replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Figured I had to sell it, right? Thought that was the job.” He tilted his head, his smirk fading into something softer. “But don’t get it twisted. That’s all it was—an act. You’re the real deal.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the knot in your chest loosening little by little. The way he looked at you—steady, unwavering—left no room for doubt. You hated how easily he could disarm you, but at this moment, you were grateful for it.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your arms uncrossing as you leaned into him. “You’re lucky you’re good with words,” you muttered, your voice softer now, teasing.

Logan chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “Not words, sweetheart. Just the truth.”

And for the first time that night, the tension in your chest eased completely.

[venusbyline]

Hey guys, I'm Vênus (she/her). This is my new ff blog and requests are already open!

I really like writing dark, smut and/or angst contents for s/o x female readers.

Almost all the characters and artists I'll write for are tagged. Feel free to send me your writing requests on my ask. (ps¹: practically i'll write for all Jacob Elordi and Ryan Gosling's characters, there just wasn't enough space in the tags).

So don't be shy... I'm a member of the "toxic characters stan" too <3

ps²: some characters besides the other characters of Ryan Gosling and Jacob Elordi that I didn't put in the tags but that I can also write for:

Scream: Ethan Landry, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher.

Euphoria: Rue Bennet, Jules Vaughn, Ethan Lewis, Lexi Howard, Chris McKay, Fezco.

Hunger Games: Lucy Gray Baird, Katniss Everdeen, Sejanus Plinth, Johanna Mason, Treech, Clemensia Dovecote, Tigris Snow, Haymitch Abernathy.

MCU: Tom Holland!Peter Parker & Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff.

Daisy Jones & The Six: Eddie Roundtree, Daisy Jones, Camila Dunne.

The Vampire Diaries: Stefan Salvatore, Damon Salvatore, Silas, Rebekah Mikaelson, Katherine Pierce.

Margot Robbie: Barbie, Harley Quinn.

Gossip Girl: Chuck Bass, Nate Archibald, Carter Baizen, Blair Waldorf.

YOU: Love Quinn, Joe Goldberg.

Harry Potter: Cedric Diggory, Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black.

Grey's Anatomy: Jackson Avery, Derek Shepherd, Mark Sloan, Alex Karev.

Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron, JJ Maybank.

Anyway, more characters can be added here over time!

[twins-write]

Request Information

We write x reader and x OC stories/oneshots, so don't be afraid to give your character a name, unless you prefer it being the reader!

We typically write the reader as a female, but if you prefer gender neutral, let us know!

We generally write for male people/characters as well.

We write:

Fluff

Angst

Hurt/Comfort

Comfort

We do not write smut!

Feel free to send any request for one-shots/imagines, or if you have an idea for a mini-series, don't be afraid to suggest that as well.

If you request, there is no 100% guarantee that it'll be written, but we will definitely try our best to fulfill everyone's requests!

When something is requested, we will try to get to it as quickly as possible, but we are both full time students and play sports, so please bear with us!

We write for a lot of things, but here is the list if you want to go through it all! If you don't see a specific person/show or anything on the list, still feel free to request it. We might have accidentally left it out, but if not, we can still attempt to write that person for you!

You can submit requests by clicking the link at the bottom of this post or the link at the top of the blog, both will take you to a form to submit your request!

FULL LIST OF WHAT WE WRITE FOR:

Shows/movies:

13 Reasons Why

Clay Jensen

Justin Foley

911 (Lonestar and the original)

Eddie Diaz

Evan Buckley

Judd Ryder

Owen Strand

Paul Strickland

TK Strand

Wyatt Harris

American Horror Story

Jimmy Darling

Kit Walker

Kyle Spencer

Michael Langdon

Tate Langdon

Xavier Plympton

Attack On Titan

Armin Arlert

Jean Kirstein

Big Time Rush

Carlos

James

Kendall

Logan

Breaking Bad

Jesse Pinkman

Cobra Kai

Eli Moskowitz (Hawk)

Johnny Lawrence

Miguel Diaz

Robby Keene

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Spencer Reid

Game of Thrones

Bronn

Jaime Lannister

Jon Snow

Robb Stark

Goosebumps

James Etten

Lucas Parker

Gossip Girl

Chuck Bass

Eric Van Der Woodsen

Nate Archibald

Grey’s Anatomy

George O’Malley

Mark Sloan

IT

Bill Denbrough

Eddie Kaspbrak

Richie Tozier

Jujustu Kaisen

Megumi Fushiguro

Satoru Gojo

Toge Inumaki

Yuji Itadori

Lab Rats

Chase Davenport

Malcolm In The Middle

Francis Wilkerson

Reese Wilkerson

Malcolm Wilkerson

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Deadpool

Druig

Loki Laufeyson

Peter Parker (Tom’s or Andrew’s)

Steve Rogers

Thor 

Wolverine

My Babysitter’s a Vampire

Benny Weir

Ethan Morgan

My Hero Academia

Denki Kaminari

Eijiro Kirishima

Hitoshi Shinsou

Izuku Midoriya

Katsuki Bakugo

Keigo Takami

Shota Aizawa

Shoto Todoroki

Takami Amajiki

NCIS (LA and the original)

Anthony DiNozzo

Eric Beale

G. Callen

Jimmy Palmer

Marty Deeks

Timothy McGee

Nerve

Tommy Mancuso

New Girl

Coach

Nick Miller

Schmidt

Winston Bishop

Now You See Me

Jack Wilder

Outerbanks

JJ Maybank

John B.

Pope

Rafe Cameron

Topper

Percy Jackson

Percy

Pretty Little Liars

Caleb Rivers

Holden Strauss

Jason DiLaurentis

Mike Montgomery

Noel Kahn

Toby Cavanaugh

Shadowhunters

Alec Lightwood

Jace Herondale

Simon Lewis

Shameless

Ian Gallagher

Kevin Ball

Lip Gallagher

Smallville

Clark Kent

Lex Luthor

Stranger Things

Dustin Henderson

Steve Harrington

Supernatural

Castiel

Dean Winchester

Jack Kline

Sam Winchester

T@GGED

Ash Franklin

Brandon Darrow

Trevor Askill

Teen Wolf

Derek Hale

Isaac Lahey

Scott McCall

Stiles Stilinski

Titans

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

Gar Logan (Beast Boy)

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

The 100

Bellamy Blake

Jasper Jordan

Monty Green

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Ambrose Spellman

Harvey Kinkle

Nicholas Scratch

The Hunger Games

Finnick Odair

Peeta Mellark

The Maze Runner

Minho

Newt

Thomas

The Middle

Axl Heck

Sean Donahue

The OC

Luke Ward

Ryan Atwood

Seth Cohen

The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Klaus Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

The Outsiders

Darry Curtis

Dallas Winston

Sodapop Curtis

The Rookie

John Nolan

Tim Bradford

The Umbrella Academy

Five Hargreeves

The Vampire Diaries

Damon Salvatore

Jeremy Gilbert

Kai Parker

Stefan Salvatore

The Walking Dead

Carl Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Glenn Rhee

Negan Smith

Rick Grimes

True Blood

Eric Northman

Jason Stackhouse

Sam Merlotte

Twilight

Emmett Cullen

Jasper Hale

Paul Lahote

Seth Clearwater

Wizards of Waverly Place

Justin Russo

Real people:

5 Seconds of Summer members (all)

Ateez members (all)

Cody Fern

Jamie Muscato

Sam and Colby

Stray Kids members (all)

The Boyz (all)

Tomorrow x Together members (all)

Request form: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdf15DK07JIGzKMNPC2FrEgP7ces4KfIxTngYcNwvmusaXxGA/viewform?usp=sf_link

[edytae]

Rush¹: Concert (smut-mature) ft Kim Taehyung x Reader

(do not interact if you are underage)

pairing: non-idol!Taehyung x (female) reader

summary: just a short porn

rating: 18+

genre/warnings: smut, immature ejaculation, desperate oc, dirty talk, unprotected sex (always use protection!)

word count: 1.6K (1.599 to be exact)

masterlist | part1 rush: concert | part2 rush: club |  part3 rush: bed

——–——

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! What do you understand when I say be quick!” You screamed at the top of your lungs backstage at Taehyung’s concert. He lazily laughed at your tugging and cockily walked as you dragged him by the hand. “Oh I swEAr I will lose my mind!” You yelled at him again while pushing Jimin from the way. “Pick somewhere else, fairy boy.” Poor Jimin looked at you startled.

“Don’t tire my best bass player, Y/N!” Namjoon scolded you as you chucked Taehyung into one of the dressing rooms. 

“Kiss my ass, Joonie.” You yelled back and slammed the door in their face. Meanwhile, Taehyung was suckling on the same lollipop stick he had before getting on stage. You pulled the white stick out of his mouth aggressively as he raised one of his brows.

“If you wanted something to suckle on, I can glad you give you something.” You breathed out to his mouth. Your dirty suggestion made Taehyung dizzier more than he was on stage, his adrenaline was kicking now. 

“Dirty w-” He didn’t give himself enough time to finish his sentence and smashed his lips with yours. He didn’t care if you could breathe, you didn’t care if your teeth grazed on his lean lips more aggressively than they should. Your mind had one mission and that was fucking him.

“Taehyung…” You mewled as you stumbled him into to door you both just entered. Taehyung’s back hit the wooden door with a low thud as your mouth disconnected. 

Your lips latched on the closest thing next, his chin. You kissed his chin down to his jawline. He was sweaty, more than you would ever be comfortable with, but your mind was on the loose.

“Fucking fuck,” You groaned and bit his chin, then licked it, then kissed it. Your one hand went through his hair and grabbed what you could reach. Your other hand went down to his leather trousers. “I will fucking lose my mind, ugh.” You cried out when your hands could open his belt, touch him enough.

Taehyung wanted to help; he really did. But he was intoxicated, too high on your presence. Don’t get him wrong, he was sober now, but your desperate need for him made him lose his voice. “Y/N…” He similarly cried out- he wanted, nah, he planned about this moment while he was on stage. He planned how he would use your neediness to tease and play with you.

“You are so needy, baby. Who got your panties on fire?” He growled when you sucked on his bottom lip and pulled it down. Taehyung felt your fingers burn through his skin, he memorised how desperately they clung to him. He also felt your tits pushing against him, your weak knees…

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you pulled him back to a long passionate kiss that somehow led both of you to the uncomfortable old armchair. Tongue was always the spotlight of the kiss, but Taehyung was surprised how much of your tongue was involved this time. You weren’t just taking what he gave, you were inside his mouth, your hands holding his face to get inside of him. 

When you pushed Taehyung down to sit, Taehyung knew that he wasn’t going to do anything he planned earlier. You took your seat on his lap, facing his heated face. You wanted to tease Taehyung about his red cheeks, but those buttery lips needed more kissing. As you dominated another kiss, your hips started humping him.

“Y/N, you are…” Taehyung laughed. You aimed for his neck this time, sucking beautiful red roses on his skin. You tasted his sweat once again, and it fucking made you hungry for more. It was impossible not to moan so Taehyung let a couple of low moans out of his mouth. He was quick to gear you up. You didn’t lose any time taking Taehyung’s clothes off. No there was no time for that. 

When your hands gripped Taehyung’s belt again, Taehyung hissed. “No foreplay, babygirl?” Your hips humping his thigh, your hands gripping his cock, your lips glued to his neck, your smell in his nose, your whimpers in his ear… Taehyung was in an absolute delight. He felt so full of himself. 

But his teasing voice paid him a bunch when you got your hands inside his pants. “Mhmhm,” You moaned into Taehyung’s ear as if touching his dick was the drug that pumped in your blood to calm you down. 

“Is that what you want, baby?” Taehyung threw his head back as squeezed his base. His wolfish smirk was on his face. You bit his earlobe, “I want-” You were cut off when Taehyung couldn’t help but leak a bunch into his underwear. 

It was your sign to sink on him now. As you planned, you were wearing the sluttiest outfit ever with the easiest access for him. Taehyung looked at you questioningly as you threw your legs to the sides of him and hover over your crotch. The realisation hit him the second you rubbed his cock to your wet folds. A simultaneous moan left your mouths, followed by a string of curse from Taehyung. “You fucking slut, you fuck me under your skirt, huh?”

Taehyung’s slap on your ass reminded you that he also had arms and hands.

“Yeah, baby.” You egged him. “I am so hungry for your cock, Taehyung!” You cried while rubbing yourself on his shaft. 

Taehyung squeezed where he slapped. He was going to cum now and he wasn’t even in you. “Ahh, so good, baby.” You squealed as his hand secured you on your waist. 

If he could touch your little clit, Taehyung could have some time to adjust- “Oh, Taehyuungg.” You groaned loudly as you impaled yourself in one go. 

Taehyung’s hands immediately tried to push you, but you were overpowering him so easily. “Such a good cock for me.” Despite your screams of his name just before, your voice was quiet now. 

“You are so needy for me.” Taehyung repeated again, wishing so hard for it to be true. “You can’t live without me.” He added as you nodded and milked his dick with all power you had. 

“Taehyung, ahh, so big, baby.” You screamed again as you bounced fully. “So thick for me, ah, I can’t take it all.” Taehyung’s head bumped everywhere inside you. Taehyung never needed to do that. He was wide enough to punch through every sweet spot you had. “Tae, Tae, Tae, baby.” You rhythmically moaned as you bounced on his cock.

Your warm body on top of him was divine. Your wet cunt wrapped around his dick was an impossible feeling. Taehyung suddenly sniffed as if he was going to cry. You looked at his red face with closed eyes. His face screamed at the arrival of his orgasm. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, huh?” You asked him slightly slowing down. As soon as you slowed your hard bounces on him, a string of pain struck your pussy. You unconsciously squeezed him. Taehyung’s eyes shot open, and his beautiful brown irises found yours apologetically. 

“Ughh, oh, baby, Y/N…” Taehyung let a beautiful groan right in front of your face as he helplessly released his warm load into you. “Tae…” You complained sweetly as you brushed his hair back, but one string of hair kept coming over his face and peppered his face with soft wet kisses. He continued to release after he came down from his high, and his thighs quivered. 

“Y/N.” He breathlessly said your name. “You are an incubus.” He was certain that you had superpowers. 

“You said that when we first fucked years ago, baby…” You sweetly answered him. Just then, his long cock twitched again and gave you more of his warm seed. Taehyung remembered 18-year-old Y/N at the back of his car, breathing quickly just like now. You laughed loudly, there was no bite in your voice, but just pure confidence to have this effect on him. Taehyung knew there was no reason to deny the truth.

“You…” Taehyung opened his mouth, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. He just buried his face into your neck.

“Aren’t you going to finish me like all of your sentences?” You bite him back this time. Taehyung knew this would come. 

“You should’ve given me some break, you cock-hungry slut.” He finally had the power to grasp your neck. 

“So, it is my fault that you came so early…” you twirled your hips, lewd squeaky noise filled the heated room. 

“... and so much…” You felt incredibly bloated, but gravity got the best of it and let Taehyung spill out of you. 

“Shh, give me some time.” For Taehyung, exhaustion was kicking in now.

“Hmm, okay then.” You brushed his bangs out of his face. You placed a wet kiss on his lips, and Taehyung couldn’t return the kiss again. He was totally spent with red bruised lips. 

“I should go to other guys then.” You faked getting up– you would never let his dick but teasing him felt so good. 

“I am sure Jungkook can go many rounds back-to-back.” Taehyung irked. “Or Namjoon, right? Or I could go to Yoongi to have him eat me out…” You kept twirling your hips to get Taehyung riled up. And it worked. 

Taehyung pulled your ear down to his mouth, “Then why did you jumped on me the second I got off the stage, baby? Mhmm?” His sinful voice was getting you.

“Get on your knees.” His eyes locked on you but hugged his face tighter into your chest. 

——

> next: part2 rush: club

masterlist | part1 rush: concert | part2 rush: club | part3 rush: bed recommendation: i’m mad & you’re mine |

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Snatch

Eris x Reader, an introduction into the Autumn Court’s secret club

Warnings: fighting, gambling, drugs, smut, probably other illicit activities

Word Count: 4.7K

The bass bounced off the walls of the underground club, shaking the crooked pictures on the walls, rattling the shadow boxes of other Court memorabilia - the trophies won by Autumn males in the form of lost bets from the visiting High Fae: a Night Court sword, gold jewelry from the Day Court, a morbid Spring Court pelt, reindeer antlers from a prestigious Winter hunter. It was dark, the only faelights catching on the smoke winding around the floor of the gambling hall, twirling around your ankles with each step you took. The smell of the burning Autumn herbs was nearly suffocating, but something you were used to. The males blew the hallucinogenic smoke towards you as you wove through the tables and lingering bodies.

You held the tray of elixir high above your head, winking at those with lingering eyes - some watching the bottles, others watching you. You had a part to play: the sultry cocktail waitress, one who the males could look at but not touch, enticing the rich Fae to return each night. Only the males were allowed to sit at the dark mahogany tables, littered with cards and money - various currencies, coins, and paper bills strewn about. The females were the servers, whose only job was to serve the men their expensive drinks, dodging the spilt beer and thrown gambling chips. 

After you finally reached your endgame across the room, you lowered the tray in front of yourself, showing the handsome male the whiskey he had requested. He sat perched on the bar stool, large wings splayed out behind him. His scarred hands held his cards close to his chest, the expensive cobalt gems on the backs of his hands matching the one adorning his chest. The males around the table eyed the stones, no doubt waiting for him to drink himself stupid enough to gamble them away. But you had seen him before, and knew he was not so foolish. His shadows swirled around the other players and whispered the rivals’ cards in his ear. He’d get kicked out if anyone noticed, but no one paid that close attention, and it was not your business to tell. 

He nodded in confirmation before you poured him two fingers worth of the golden liquid, the same tone as his eyes that were narrowed at the drunkard across from him. “Leave the bottle,” the male commented, voice as smooth as the darkness of his shadows. You simply placed the bottle beside his glass, turning on your heel to deliver the next drink. 

The wine left on your tray went to a Spring sentinel who frequented the club more than the dark haired whiskey drinker. He leaned onto his elbows, pressed atop the black table, grilling his brunette comrade, Bron. The two had many evenings spent hustling the newer club-members, failing more often than not. You’d seen them lose countless coins here, more than you thought their High Lord would have paid them. Tamlin only made it a few times, by personal invitation from the youngest Vanserra; his avarice was not only present during the Tithe, but in his gambling style, as well.

“Hart,” you greeted with a sly smile, holding the wine out beside him. “Your austere wine, from Autumn’s private reserve.” He slung his arm over the back of his chair, turning to fully face you, away from his annoyed friend. 

“(Y/N),” he replied, green eyes brightening upon your arrival. He held his glass out for a refill, arm swaying as evidence of his drunkenness. “You spoil me.” 

“For you, anything.” He chuckled at your flattery, seeing right through your faux flirtation, as he had seen you treat many of the other patrons. He pulled a Spring bill off the table, folding it and slipping it into the tiny pocket sewn into your apron. You noticed his eyes raked up your bare legs, following the curve of your hips, hidden behind the tiny white apron, noting your cleavage before meeting your eyes once more. “Much appreciated, soldier.”

He chuckled, a red tinge crawling up his neck to his cheeks. “Let me know if you need an escort home tonight,” he teased. “And if possible, bring your friend for Bron.” He nodded toward the blonde barmaid at the next table over, who stifled a laugh and rolled her eyes. It wasn’t unheard of for the servers to leave the club with any of the members - it was especially common for the regular winners. Though you knew she already had her heart set on taking home the winged male. 

Bron punched Hart in the shoulder, hard enough that he would no doubt be sporting a bruise the next morning. “Knock it off,” he grumbled, grabbing his own glass and holding it toward you. You refilled it without any teasing, not wishing to further embarrass the male. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Good luck,” you responded with a genuine smile; you meant it - and they needed it, with how much they tipped you each time they came. 

You tucked your tray under your arm, straightening up and running your hands over your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. You moved to the next table, ready to take more orders, but the male across the room caught your gaze. He stood tall, leaning casually against the wall near the bar, a rock glass full of dark liquid held up in front of him. The brown jacket he wore was left open, the high collared sweater tucked pristinely into his trousers; though his red hair was unkempt, a strand falling over his forehead, curling just over his browline. His russet eyes followed your movement, watching your hands straighten out the short uniform. He raised the glass to you, then, with a quick lick of his lips, took a sip. You noticed the way he relished in the burn across his throat as he drank the brown liquor. In his fingers was a mirthroot cigarette, rolled tightly and half smoked. 

You nodded to the male, unsure of when and how to break his gaze. It wasn’t the first time you had come across the eldest Vanserra son in the Autumn club, but it was the first time he noticed you. Though the High Lords and their kin typically attended the more formal, public events, you were not surprised to see the young male during one of the underground gambling nights. These evenings tended to be more rowdy, and sometimes allowed a more physical way to relieve some pent-up Court stress. While bar fights were quite common amongst the quieter nights, there were plenty of opportunities for arranged boxing and wrestling matches. 

Eris returned the gesture, tilting his head in greeting, or farewell, toward you. He took a long drag from that cigarette and blew the smoke down in front of him, to collect in the river of vapor that ran across the floor, drifting amongst the crowd. With that, he stepped away from the wall, disappearing into the mass of males gathering around a particularly disorderly game. 

________________________________________________________________

The next night of illicit wagering came the following weekend. A night you were dreading, in fact. Males gathered around the ring in the middle of the basement, spilling booze and food alike, shoving Fae aside indiscriminately, desperate to get close to the action. You dodged elbows and wings - both bat and feathered, slithering through the crowds of gambling creatures cursing and roaring at the match before you. 

Hounds littered the floor, tripping up the lushed club-members as they stumbled around; their owners yanked at their silver and gold collars, threatening others that stared at them for too long. A few shapeshifter wolves were perched along the walls, no doubt waiting for some dumb High Fae to test them. The famed males of Prythian did not only come for the money; many came for the chance to blow off some steam, whether that be through taking a notoriously fine Autumn female to bed or dismembering the first drunkard that crossed them. 

You braved your way to the front of the room, dispersing glasses of dark liquor amongst the turbulent crowd. You couldn’t make out what they were yelling - some cheering, some cussing - but your attention was drawn to the fight before you at the reaction. You had seen many fights in this club, unlicensed boxing and wrestling that took place on a regular basis, none that had been particularly interesting. Tonight, as the crowd had alluded to, was different. There had never been so much money traded through the bookies, so much drinking and screaming… the stakes had never been higher. 

As you craned your neck to face the ring beside you, you were met with two Vanserra males, their backs broad, blocking your view of the fighters, their fiery red hair unmistakable. A third was climbing up the side of the ring, hanging off the ropes, howling at the male in the center. More males shuffled closer as the fight continued, pressing you into those in front of you. You nudged your way through the crowd, ducking under their flailing arms and falling bodies, as some shoved others off the ropes to gain better views themselves. 

Before you fully escaped the madness, you caught a glimpse of the ring and the two males grappling in the center. The first, struggling against his captor, golden skin glowing in the dim faelights, sheen with sweat and riddled with spots of blood, gasped for breath as a pale arm coiled around his neck. His legs stretched out underneath himself, turning on his side to try to throw the other male off him. The other fighter, seemingly just as sweaty and equally shirtless, huffed out a curse before he hooked a leg around his opponent's torso and landed his other knee square in his back. He flipped them over, Summer Court male face down against the mat, the pale one kneeling on top of him, restricting his breathing until the gleaming Summer Fae fell slack on the floor. 

The crowd erupted as the Autumn male rose to his feet, tall and broad, dragging the back of his hand under his nose, gathering the blood that had been dripping from the injury, before flicking his wrist at the ground, flecks of that deep red blood splattering against the passed-out fighter. His brothers screamed in victory, their sharp teeth glinting, matching those shown in the vicious smile of the standing champion. 

The males around you moved violently, some pushing closer to the ring, others moving toward the betting counter, a few starting their own fights - whether they were pleased with the outcome of the previous match, you couldn’t tell. You moved to escape their path. 

As you wove through the horde, your eye caught a glimpse of the chalkboard behind the bar, the pools scribbled hastily next to the name of each fighter. Your suspicion was confirmed as you saw Vanserra scrawled hastily next to another name and a few numbers. The presumed future High Lord had surprisingly low odds - though everyone liked to bet on the High Fae getting their asses handed to them, and it wasn’t every night that a High Lord’s son sauntered into the ring. 

You’d only seen that particular male in passing on evenings such as these; you knew he gambled, though typically not participating in the fighting and more brutal sports. He frequented the club during the more formal events, the horse races and polo matches that drew crowds - male and female alike - that the High Lord and his family were expected to attend. 

He strode from the ring, head held high, shoulders stiff as he swaggered toward the crowd, the sea of males parting before him. His red locks dripped with sweat, curling against his forehead and temples, blocking your view of his russet eyes. His chest moved rhythmically, you never thought the royal male would have so many scars littering his chest - what seemed to be claw marks dancing across his neck. The brown pants hung low on his hips, a trail of fine light hair drew your eyes from his navel down lower, to where you could only assume the tall Fae was generously gifted, considering his stature and strong legs. 

Someone shoved into you, pulling you from your trance, and reminding you of your current mission to get away from this mob before the next fight began. But before you made it to the bar, a serpentine male growled in your ear, his scaled hand reached toward you; your short dress seemingly caught the attention of his slitted eyes. You side-stepped the bastard, shoulder colliding with another Naga appearing on your other side. His clawed hand gripped your arm, holding you close against the scute of his chest, hissing a foreign tongue against your ear. His friend laughed lowly, taking a step closer to you. You fought back a flinch, instead opting to try to yank your arm away; an attempt that, unsurprisingly, turned out unsuccessful. 

You stumbled backward, back pressed into a brick wall - a wet, hot brick wall - that turned out to be the chest of a certain, pissed off, High Fae. He didn’t say anything, he knew he didn’t need to. The creature dropped your arm and both took a step backward at the presence of the Autumn male. He dropped his large, warm hands over your shoulders and with a nod of his head, the sentinels from the doorway surged toward you, hauling the Naga from the club. 

You stood frozen, not wanting to move from his grasp. His calloused hands sent sparks into your bloodstream, through only his feather light touch. You fought against all instincts to not shut your eyes and drop your head back against that expansive chest, begging for his hands to slide down the front of your dress. His sweat smelled smoky, not like the mirthroot lingering through the club, but like the wildfires that pillaged the Autumn forests, the burnt oak wood in the hearth of every fireplace. When you came to the realization you didn’t know how long you were standing there for, minutes or mere seconds, caught up in his breath against the top of your head, you stepped forward, twisting around to face him. 

He simply dropped his hands at his sides, fists clenching, biceps swelling at the action. You had your chance to finally peer into those amber eyes and the blazing fire trapped in them. He was a wild man, adrenaline still soaring through his veins, staring into your own wide eyes, ready to pounce on you. He had never given much thought to the uniforms the servers wore on these evenings, the low cut busts and short hemmed skirts; but he had never been more grateful than in that moment. He noticed the change in your scent as you turned to face him, and it was impossible to miss the pink tinge that crawled up your cheeks. And maybe he puffed his chest out a little, but he was sure that even if you did notice this small action, you wouldn’t complain about it. 

_______________________________________________________________

The hounds yelped as they were dragged across the gravel, so loud you could hear them from across the grounds. It was a cool evening, one spent outside on the track for the race, the only warmth came from the torches littered around the walls of the club - and of course, radiating off the countless sweaty, drunk males around you. You’d almost wanted to have a few drinks yourself, to warm your blood and perhaps increase your patience for the invalids surrounding you. 

However, given the much more spacious venue, you’d had less trouble dodging the wings, wolves, and other creatures that lingered through the crowd. The full moon offered more light than the torches, illuminating a path for you to serve the ever loyal club-members. The males lined up along the track, the field in front of them scattered with cages, the prey awaiting their hunters. The few high statused Faes roamed through the field, gathering at the starting point. They wore their finest attire, unusual for nights like these, though the event of the night could be considered much more civilized than the hand-to-hand grappling that commonly occurred. 

Five red haired males stood in the field, wearing a myriad of dark tones, yet all donning their polished riding boots. Your favorite, the eldest, commanded the attention of his brothers and the other patrons alike, chuckling as he recounted whatever tale, earning the laughter from the males around him. You watched intently as he sucked that gods-damned cigarette, blowing the smoke upward to the moon in offering. You could have sworn he saw you staring at him, that ferocious smile impossible to miss in the muted darkness. 

His beloved hound sat patiently beside him, unleashed unlike the other large canine creatures at their masters’ sides. Upon the first crack of the whip, the animals and owners lined up along the starting line; the sound to start the race, but also a threat to the misbehaving dogs - and their owners. Pict males strolled to the field, tending to the prey cages. While Picts were not often allowed to the member-only evenings, they were granted access for these races, only to provide the game for the hounds, creatures that High Fae were too entitled to catch and supply themselves. With a shout of attention from the organizer, the males prepared their hunters; and with another crack of the whip, they were off. Picts freed their hare and large jackrabbits, then ran from the field, searching for the first server to grant them drinks. 

The dogs ran through the field, canines snapping, chasing their prey. The males at the starting line rallied, laughing, exchanging money, and spilling drinks as they watched their dogs fight for their treats, incredulously amused at the spectacle. The guests around you cheered, urging the hounds they bet on to catch an animal, or cried for the prey to outrun the beasts. Money flew through the air, coins were passed between friends and bookies. You tore your eyes from the scene, handing out more drinks, earning some of that cash exchange for yourself. 

You made it back to the bar, picking up a few more glasses and bottles to bring out to the guests. You paused, standing under the torch against the brick wall, turning to face the warm fire, letting the heat seep into your cheeks and chest. You crossed your arms and curled your hands around your biceps, rubbing your exposed skin to rid yourself from the goosebumps crawling up your arms and legs. You could see your breath under the moonlight, the cold chill of the evening pulling the vapor from your lungs. 

“(Y/N).”

You’d never heard his voice before, yet you knew exactly who he was. 

How he knew who you were, you had no idea.

“Whiskey.” He nodded over to the bar, disregarding the Fae serving drinks, wanting instead for you to pour him a drink. You nodded faintly, stepping behind the counter and grabbing the most expensive spirit you could find. Your fingers danced over the thick glass, stroking the neck of the bottle once, twice, before pouring him a fingers-worth. 

A smirk crawled onto his pink lips, quirking an eyebrow at the misplaced movement. He pressed his cigarette up to his mouth, dropping his elbows to the bartop, shrugging his shoulders and leaning against the surface. He pressed that cigarette to his lips, watching as you handed him the short glass. He ended up leaning so far on the counter that he was eye level with your chest; his cock ached as he saw your nipples harden, the chill of Autumn seeping through your dress as you moved from the warm torch.

“Anything else?” You murmured, passing the glass off to him. He straightened as he took it, his warm fingertips brushing against yours. 

He shook his head once, not a hair atop his head falling out of place. His fiery eyes stayed locked with yours as he blew the mirthroot smoke toward the table, into the glass and at your chest. You watched the tendrils dance against the mahogany, and swirl in his glass as he brought it up to his lips and downed the smoky liquor in one. You felt a shiver flow down your spine, eliciting the goosebumps from you once more. You didn’t know if you could get high off the Autumn herbs and drug smoke alone, or if perhaps it was the Autumn male’s scent that suddenly had you at ease. 

He scented the same on you, in fact. 

You reached your hand out toward him, holding your palm up and allowing a sultry smile to crawl up on your lips. He mirrored your expression, eyes dropping to your awaiting hand. He dangled the cigarette in front of your hand, waiting for you to grab for it, and when you did - he snatched it away, holding it back to his lips and taking a long drag. He peered down his nose at you, watching with amusement as your brows narrowed and nose crinkled in distaste at his action.

Eris merely smiled, beckoning you to come closer with a curl of his finger, and held his face to yours. His hands cupped your jaw, to which you gasped in surprise, and he blew the smoke into your open mouth. 

Fuck it.

You leaned forward ever so slightly, pressing your lips against his, encapsulating the smoke amidst the two of you. He sighed quietly against you, straightening up, his hands still holding your cheeks, making you raise up on your tiptoes. He took charge of the situation, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip and entering your mouth, meeting yours with fever. 

The taste of whiskey burnt your senses, the herbal tang from the cigarette still lingering between you. Your fingers found the lapels of his wool jacket, fisting the thick fabric and pulling him into you. The counter cut into your hips as you tried to press yourself against him. Fed up with what seemed to be the same conundrum, Eris let go of you, hooking himself over the bar and grabbed your waist, hoisting you up over the bar. 

His fingers dug into you so hard you expected to find bruises there in the morning. His strong arms set you on the hard surface, not moving his hands from your hips, only using your new position to pull you taught against him. Your chest pressed into his, heat radiating from him into you. You flung your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a sloppy kiss - a continuation where you had just left off. His hand drifted to your ass, now nearly exposed from the hemline of your short dress, and gave your supple flesh a firm squeeze. 

Your legs wrapped around his hips, hooking your ankles and squeezing around his waist, pressing yourself as close to him as you possibly could - though the layer of clothing between you seemed to be the biggest barrier in your path. Taking the hint, he hoisted you off the counter and took off toward the darkness, opting to find a more private location behind the club. 

Eris pressed you against the sturdy brick wall, just under one of the torches, offering you a reprieve of warmth. Your hands grabbed at the collar of his jacket, ushering him to drop it from his shoulders, desperate to get your hands on any part of him. He followed your lead, pinning you to the wall only with his lips, shrugging the coat off and letting it fall to the dirt behind him. 

Your hands curled around the collar of his shirt, working your way down the buttons adorning his chest. Impatience grew between the two of you; one if his hands fell back against your ass, squeezing until he earned a soft yelp out of you. His other hand reached for your uniform, sliding underneath and pinching your nipple.

You gave up on the shirt, hands dropping between your bodies, nails scraping against the raised bumps on his collarbones and chest, fumbling with his trousers. His cock was hard, trapped under his belt, which you worked quickly to free. After you threw the belt to the ground, you ran your hand down that faint hair on his lower stomach, his skin trembling on contact. His cock jerked under your touch, aching for your palm around him like you did to the bottleneck - soft and slow. 

That’s exactly what you did. 

You moved your hand up and down the shaft of the future High Lord’s warm cock, so thick you couldn’t close your fist around it. You swirled your thumb around the tip, spreading the precum down to the base of his dick. You pressed harder into the wall, angling your hips so you could move your wet pussy back and forth against him. 

“No undergarments?” He quizzed, lips still moving against yours, eyes squeezed shut at the feeling.

“Not a part of the uniform, your highness,” you replied, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip. He sighed into your mouth - frustrated maybe, impatient even, but ever so grateful. 

“Fuck, (Y/N),” Eris sighed, grabbing his dick from your hand and slapping it against your cunt before sinking in. You sighed in unison with him, dropping your forehead against his, curling your arm tightly over his shoulder, hand raking through his sweaty hair. 

He moaned in response, hands holding your hips, keeping you steady against the wall as he rutted into you, fucking you relentlessly. The sound of his hips snapping into yours echoed against the stones, the lewd sound of your pussy only urging him to pound into you faster, deeper. 

The whip cracked in the distance, signaling an end to the race. You jumped in his arms, back scraping against the brick wall. The males howled in the distance at the wins of their hounds. “Eris,” you breathed, in fear of the crowd growing rowdier and beginning to wander.

That spurred him on, shoving into you again with fever, harder and faster. You pulled at his locks, grabbing a fistful of red hair and pulling his head from your neck. His gaze leveled yours, those red eyes half lidded in pleasure, sweat dotting his temples. “They won’t come closer if they know what’s good for them,” he replied, admiring your swollen, open mouth - plump lips just begging to be kissed. “And if they do - ” he pressed a kiss to your lips, deepening it until your tongue reached out for his, before he pulled away with a dark smirk. “ - let them see how good I’m fucking you.”

With that, another snap of his hips, pushing his dick up into your tight pussy, bottoming out inside of you. Your eyes shut and head fell back against the wall, exposing your neck for Eris’s tongue to attack. He licked across the column of your throat and marked you with hickeys and bite marks. 

His hand fell from your hip between the two of you, gathering your slick from the base of his cock, finding your clit and rubbing circles against it. You arched further into the wall, pushing against his hand, biting back the scream that threatened to spill from your mouth. Eris’s lips found yours, continuing his brutal pace of fucking you, muffling any sound that did escape you. 

He never faltered, not as your pussy clenched around him and you screamed into his mouth, crying out for salvation, chanting his name like a prayer against his lips. “Fuck,” he growled, and as soon as your stomach clenched and you came around him, he stilled inside of you, relishing in you squeezing around his hard dick, pulling his own orgasm from him. He leaned into you, pressing his chest to yours, and your back against the wall, dick still stuffed inside of you. 

Your hands ran through his red locks, pushing the damp stands away from his face. You opted for one final kiss, a slow soft one, signaling for him to set you down. You held onto him still, legs trembling like a newborn baby doe, unable to stand on your own; you gripped his bicep, straining against the thin button down he wore. Eris still held your waist and he smirked to himself as his other hand ran through your folds and shoved his seeping cum back into you. 

He held his finger up to your lips to clean it off, taking it into your mouth and sucking ever so lightly, swirling your tongue around his finger. “Next time, I’d like to feel your pretty little mouth around my cock.”

[irrelevantwriter]

White Flag

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, slightly vulnerable Rio, declaration of feelings (sorta?)

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Part 5. Two months without seeing or speaking to Rio has left a significant mark and feelings finally decide to show themselves. Kinda.

A/N: I hope everyone had a good holiday or at least a chill Friday. I come bearing gifts with the next part of our favorite toxic saga. More smut for my lovely readers. But first, some plot. We jump right into it and just like our favorite non-couple, we gloss over a lot of bullshit and get right to the filth. But as a Virgo I love communication so I have to make these two stubborn assholes talk about their issues a little. At least in a vague way. Also, Rio has his read receipts on bc he is a petty king. There’s one more part after this and it's all naughty fun from here. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

A/N dos: I’m thinking about making the next part strictly from Rio’s POV. I feel like it’ll give us a peek into what he’s thinking and a new take on the series thus far. I’m excited to explore that so let me know what you guys think!

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 6 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*********************

“So you’re just gonna eye fuck the hot stranger at the bar all night?”

Your friend’s teasing cut through the haze, jolting you back to the dimly lit bar. The music boomed around you while people drank and danced, enjoying the Saturday night out in the same way you and your girlfriends were.

“I was not.” You insisted, though the coy smile you wore said otherwise.

The group of women scoffed and rolled their eyes, seeing right through your faux innocence.

“Besides,” You started, taking a sip of your drink as the song changed into a bass heavy melody. “He’s not even my type.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Kara interjected with a raised brow, shaking her head.

You opened your mouth in surprise, but bit back your response when the other women chimed in.

“She’s right.” Evelyn agreed, throwing her dark hair over one shoulder.

“We knew you in high school and college, remember?” Nikki threw in, pursing her lips knowingly in your direction.

“Okay, so?” You said with a poor attempt at nonchalance.

“You were all over guys like that when we were kids. Paul ended up being the black sheep of the bunch.” Kara reminded you with a laugh, Evelyn and Nikki joining in with their own drunken giggles.

“Yeah, we were convinced you’d marry a felon with tattoos and not a real estate broker who wore khakis.” Nikki quipped, causing another round of laughter and snorts.

“Okay, okay...I get it. So I had a type. I think I’ve grown out of it.” You cut in, sounding as if you were trying to convince them as much as yourself.

“Not if the hottie at the bar has anything to say about it.” Evelyn joked with a wink.

You shook your head as you took another sip of your drink, unwilling to let them see you flustered. Or that they were in fact correct. You definitely still had a thing for bad boys...bad men to be more specific.

The evening had been going smoothly so far. It was a rare girl’s night out. An event that happened only once every five years when kids were shuttled off to babysitters or their fathers, and the women were able to enjoy an adult meal with adult beverages. Schedules between four busy women didn’t often align so when they did, you all jumped at the chance to indulge in the nightlife you’d left behind in your younger years.

You’d been the one to suggest the bar. It was a swanky, sophisticated space with an air of youth. The perfect mix for your outing. You’d been here only one other time.

With Rio.

Thinking of the man made heat pool low in your stomach, despite your lingering frustrations. It’d been two months since that shit show of a night at your house. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. After that debacle, you blocked his number. As childish as it may have been, you were angry. Still were. And rightfully so. He’d been a complete dick. He’d chosen the most inopportune moment to make adjustments to your arrangement. He’d been careless in his deliverance, harsh even. The entire exchange had you questioning everything. And instead of analyzing the situation and communicating like adults, you’d decided to stop all interactions with him. You’d wanted to send a message. Just as he had with you.

After the argument, you’d been an anxious mess in the days leading up to the next drop. But it was all for nothing because Rio wasn’t there. And neither was the new contact he’d told you about. Instead, Mick was waiting for you and offering up no other information. And it’d been that way for two long months.

In the days since, your mind wandered to Rio often. Your body lingered on his phantom presence constantly. You replayed the conversation you’d had a million times over and each time it made deep fury spill over and mix with the lust still raging like white water rapids through your veins. You missed his touch. Missed his desire for you. Missed the way he made you feel, so supremely sexual and wanton. All things you’d been lacking in your marriage. And now they were suddenly hitting you square in the face and begging you to pay attention. Begging you to not lose the source of your sudden awakening.

You missed the toxicity of your interactions. You were two twisted souls fighting for control over a situation that belonged to neither of you. And in truth, the basis of your relationship with Rio was denial and attraction. It would continue to thrive on that as long as you both refused the obvious.

So maybe, just maybe you’d come to the bar in hopes of seeing him in order to test that theory. It was a slim chance he’d even be here, but you were just buzzed enough that you were willing to roll the dice and find out. Plus, your desire for him felt like an extension of your body at this point. You had to satiate it. Had to feed the raw passion that grew stronger each day without him. It demanded it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. But your own hand didn’t ignite your body the same way his did, asshole or not.

“I’ll be back.” You called over the music, gesturing to the darkened hallway that predictably led to the bathrooms. Your friends nodded and went back to flirting with the handsome blue-eyed waiter.

You shot a meaningful glance in the direction of the bar. To the “hot stranger”. Whether or not he’d take the hint was on him.

You made it to the single-use bathroom easily. It wasn’t late enough for it to be crowded with the surge of a Saturday night crowd, but the place was still busy. You set your purse down on the sleek surface of the sink counter, admiring the emerald green tiles that paved the walls. The fixtures were brass and gleamed in the light of the vanity bulbs. It was a beautiful space. Carefully crafted for a magazine like Architectural Digest.

Your eyes swept over your reflection in the large mirror that sat over the sink. You made sure not a lash was out of place as you surveyed your appearance. You adjusted the low neckline of your yellow dress, the hue radiating more gold than you’d initially noticed. The silk material felt cool against your heated skin, the slit in the skirt offering some relief. The long sleeves of the garment added a sleekness to the otherwise risqué ensemble. You’d never worn the dress. But tonight seemed as good a time as any to debut it.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made you pause, eyes watching in the mirror for who entered. You wondered if it’d be him. Wondered if he ended up following you like you’d hoped.

Your stomach knotted when Rio stepped in, closing the door and locking it with a resounding click. He was stoic. Shrouded in black and looking every bit as menacing as he truly was. A sight for your sore eyes.

You turned to face him, your chest both tightening and expanding at seeing him in the flesh. He made your heart stutter and your spine tingle, yet irritation slowly seeped into your pores, reminding you of the last interaction you’d had with him. It was a clash of sensations and feelings. It was utter chaos. And it's what you’d been missing.

Silence hung in the air as his gaze roamed your figure, appraising you hungrily. You shivered, careful to hide the gesture from his intense stare. You schooled your features and angled your chin up in confidence that you weren’t entirely sure you felt. But you weren’t going to budge. You were going to make him come to you.

He was leaning up against the door, a barely there smirk adorning his lips. His scent began to eclipse the smell of vanilla soap that permeated the air. Your eyes wanted to roll back at the familiarity of it. It was soothing. A comfort to your deprived senses.

“You miss me, mama?”

That deep rasp made your panties soak immediately. It was a question he’d asked you many times in the past, but you’d never felt it as much as you did now. Because yeah, you did fucking miss him.

You stayed silent.

He chucked at your refusal to answer. “Still mad at me?”

Again you said nothing.

He licked his lips, eyeing yours as he did. “I tried calling.”

“I blocked your number.” You finally responded, voice icy and detached.

“Damn, that’s cold.” He said with an amused shake of his head and a laugh, the sound making your nipples harden in traitorous lust.

“Why? Did you need something?” You questioned coolly, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your mounting arousal. Your thighs rubbed together, beginning to slid against each other as your arousal made itself known.

He stepped forward, heading in your direction with intent. You straightened your back, unwilling to let him get the upper hand on you. You knew what was going to happen. Knew where this was headed. So why not use it to your advantage? Why not toy with him for a change? He deserved it. 

You used the added height of your heels and eased yourself onto the countertop, parting your thighs slightly so that your dress fell between them. You leaned back on your hands, the chill of the marble countertop beneath you reminding you so much of that day in your kitchen.

Rio’s steps halted momentarily as he watched you, eyes zeroed in on the juncture between your thighs that was hidden behind the silk. Your pussy practically begged for his attention. Dared him to see your need through the fabric that shielded you.

You were still upset with him. Still displeased with the way he’d chosen to handle the situation and you. But more than anything you wanted him to succumb to you. You wanted to feel that thrill of having him at your mercy. So powerful, yet so fragile in the midst of his bliss. You wanted...no, needed him to wave his white flag first.

“Tell me then,” You began, slowly easing the hem of your dress up as you spoke. “Business or personal?” You questioned, wanting to know if he’d be truthful about why he’d tried to contact you.

He resumed his path towards you with a dangerous lick of his lips, but his gaze never faltered as it took in every new stretch of skin that was revealed. He tried to reach out and touch you, but you raised a heeled foot to his abdomen and stopped him, keeping him at a distance.

“Answer me.” You breathily demanded.

His face registered your words while his eyes took in the stretch of leg that kept him away. You eased the limb back down and waited for him to comply.

He decided to play along.

“Business.”

He continued walking when you didn’t stop him, standing between your legs and trailing his fingertips along the inside of them. His movements shifted your dress up even higher onto your thighs. The sensation would’ve tickled if you weren’t already deliriously turned on.

“Liar.” You accused, already feeling his warmth radiate onto you as he edged closer. His breath mingled with yours, mint and whiskey assaulting your nose.

“So are you.” He retorted, eyes planted firmly on your parted lips. He moved in until you were sure he could do nothing else but touch his mouth to yours. And yet you still weren’t going to meet him.

“So we’re both liars?” You asked, arching a brow up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded and swallowed, the tattoo splashed across his throat pulling your focus. You fell captive to his spell as you got lost in memories of licking and sucking the inked flesh, remembering the way he tasted on your tongue. The recollection caused your legs to widen and your back to arch into him, pushing your chest against his. God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly that your pussy clenched around nothing, as if feeling him already deep inside you. It was a silent call to a lover. One he would never hear. But he’d feel it soon enough.

Your clit throbbed against your lace panties, aching to be assaulted by his talented fingers. With him so close you could feel just how badly you needed him inside you. It felt wrong for him not to be. Felt wrong to not have him share a pulse with you when he was this near. You were going to remedy that.

“Well then,” You whispered, leaning forward to hover over his lips. “I don’t want you to fuck me in this bathroom.”

His hands glided up your thighs while his nose skimmed along your cheek. His breath was hot against your ear as he maneuvered himself so that barely a sliver of air was left between you.

“So I won’t.” He lied in return, the words coating you like his cum had done numerous times before.

In an instant your lips were being pulled to his. His hands were suddenly everywhere and all at once, seeking out your flesh in desperation. It pleased you to know just how badly he needed you. How badly he craved you.

He slid you closer to him, letting your lace-covered lower half come into contact with his crotch. Ragged breaths and low hums filtered through the air as your bodies grinded against each other, seeking firm hands. You could feel him pressed against the zipper of his dark pants. He was hard. The notion made you moan into his mouth, scraping your nails over his scalp.

It was just like riding a bike. Except there was an added layer of intensity this time that hadn’t been there before. His touch burned hotter than usual. Your grew cunt wetter with every pass of his tongue along yours. They weren’t new sensations, but they felt different. Indescribable. Perhaps it was the public sex. Perhaps it was the underlying tension. Either way, it was remarkably explosive.

You pulled away from his insistent lips to take in air. He continued on, mouth moving over your neck and across your exposed cleavage. He nipped at the flesh, his lips sensuously soothing the area as he explored. You pushed into him in invitation, widening your legs so that he could press harder into you.

You waited for him to take the next step. Waited for him to escalate the moment into more than just heavy-petting and sloppy kisses. His hands, as if reading your mind, traveled up the skirt of your dress and found the edge of your panties. There was no hesitation or teasing in his movements as he roughly pulled them off, the elastic popping against your skin and making you cry out.

Rio licked at your neck in apology, his own hands now moving to his belt. You shifted closer to the ledge of the counter and followed the trail of heat that led to his pulsing cock. His flesh bumped against you, the feel of him hot and heavy along your soaked slit making you whimper.

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt as he pushed forward and sheathed himself inside of you in one hard thrust. You gasped and tightened your legs around him, your right hand in search of something solid. It landed on the mirror behind you, your palm sticking to its cool surface as you braced yourself for the inevitable.

His facial hair scratched at your skin as he buried himself into your neck. He held your hips steady as he retreated and then plunged back into your welcoming walls, stretching you with a burn that made you hiss. Your pussy massaged his length with fervor, seducing him further inside and begging him to claim you once again.

You reached for anything you could to stabilize yourself as he fucked you into the reflective glass at your back. Moans and groans intertwined as your bodies rocked against each other. The soap dispenser fell into the sink with a loud clatter as you accidentally made contact with it. The stack of towels folded neatly near the faucet became disheveled as your ass knocked them out of place with the momentum from Rio’s cock. The entire vanity shook with each intensely thorough thrust of his hips into your womb. It was animalistic. The very epitome of what bathroom  sex in a bar should be.

No words were said. None were needed. Your actions led the conversation.

You squeezed your inner muscles around him, daring him to surrender before you. He twitched, his hips stuttering at the feel of you so tight and wet around him. He growled into your ear, a sure sign that he loved the gesture a little too much.

So you did it again.

“Stop that shit.” He grunted, hips picking up their pace.

“Cum.” You whispered in response, the demand disguised as a request.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you held him to you and clenched around him once more. You trapped him, giving him no choice but to experience your deliberate enticement. His fingers dug into your thighs almost painfully so, forcing you to wince.

He was close.

You reached between your bodies and massaged your clit, feeling your pussy react immediately. Sporadic tremors vibrated your walls and his cock, making both of you moan. Rio’s palm slammed into the mirror at your back as he rutted his hips harder into yours. He was rough and unforgiving, the aggression heightened by your disobedience. It had never quite been like this. There had always been a touch of softness, a soothing placation or word of encouragement. Not tonight. Not as he fucked you so hard you were sure the mirror was going to crack and rain down luminescent crystals of glass over you both.

You showed no mercy as you forced him to submit to you and your body. The precipice was there. It was within reach. You could feel that tightly wound coil ready to unravel. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Your mind was a prisoner to your pleasure. You thought of nothing but the sweet release that you knew was waiting for you. And it was. It was waiting for you with open arms as Rio finally came, triggering your own climax as he filled you so deliciously full of himself. His entire body tensed within you as he held you firm and painted your shuttering walls.

The familiar sensation only added to your high as your limbs tensed and loosened with each wave of euphoria that washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and catapulted through space as your body struggled to ground itself once again. Rio had gone rigid, letting you ride out your orgasm in peace as you suffocated his cock. His cum was already leaking from your walls before you’d even finished, a trail of him decorating your swollen pussy.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him staring back at you, his lips pulled into a lazy smirk. You mirrored his expression, releasing a breathless chuckle. Your body still hummed in excitement, but this time it was punctuated by the deep satisfaction that radiated from between your thighs.

“You good?” You teased, hands resting on his chest and feeling the rapid beats of his heart beginning to slow.

He laughed, the sound low and tinged with fatigue. “Yeah.”

He licked his lips and took in your disheveled state, gaze catching a glimpse of the lace bra you wore underneath.

“Let me drive you home.” He said suddenly, his arrogance alive and well.

It was on the tip of your tongue to deny him, but you chose not to.

“Sure.”

**********

The car ride was silent.

After your impromptu coupling in the bathroom, you’d made up an excuse about not feeling well to your friends and explained you’d already called an Uber. They were hesitant to let you leave alone, but somehow you’d persuaded them to stay and not follow you. You were sure the alcohol they’d consumed had something to do with it.

With hugs and promises of texts that everyone made it home safe at the end of the night, you departed from the bar with Rio in his Mercedes. He’d been driving for about ten minutes, the air not as tense as it’d once been. He seemed content to let the quiet linger, but you weren’t.

“What happened to the new guy?” You asked, glimpsing his face to gauge his reaction. It was dark in the vehicle, but you could still make out his silhouette amongst the various street lights.

He furrowed his brow and pouted his lips, confusion reading easily across his features.

“What new guy?”

“My new contact. The one I was supposed to have.”

“Didn’t work out. Mick has it handled.” He replied simply, gaze still trained on the road in front of him.

“Okay.” You said with a nod, the dryness in your tone letting him know you didn’t quite believe him.

He wordlessly turned onto your street and came to a stop alongside your driveway, putting the SUV in park. He angled his body to face you, trapping you in his stare.

“It was never about you.”

The question must’ve shown on your face because he continued.

“The switch. It wasn’t about you.”

“Wasn’t very convincing.” You deadpanned, scoffing as you played with the zipper of your clutch.

He didn’t react right away. Instead, he watched you. Watched you in that way that let you know his thoughts were as impure as the counterfeit money he produced.

“You look good in that dress.” He complimented, chin jutting out and gesturing to the fabric that adorned your body.

His praise made warmth bloom in your chest. The kind of warmth that was usually accompanied by butterflies in your stomach.

“Thanks.” You replied evenly, not letting him see just what his words did to you. Though you had a feeling he did, despite not bearing witness to it outright.

“Better without it.” He added with a slide of his wicked tongue across his bottom lip, his teeth following. The action was purposeful. Erotic. Blatant. It was all Rio.

You didn’t respond to his flirting. You only sighed, mirroring his position as you resigned yourself to have an honest conversation with the man.

“So,” You started, forcing your fingers to still. “What is it that you want?”

He eyed you for a long moment. Long enough that you started to feel self-conscious.

“You.”

You nodded, disappointed but not shocked by his reply. The word wasn’t new. Though it was lacking the hollow cockiness that usually accompanied it.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke up before you could.

“In whatever way you’ll let me have you.” He admitted.

The statement caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to be cute or charming. He wasn’t being placating or condescending. He was being serious, the hardened intensity in his dark orbs softening to a tender resignation that you were sure matched yours.

“What about you? What do you want?” He repeated back to you, eyes narrowing as he waited.

You took a moment to observe him. Your eyes followed the arch of his brows and the sharp jut of his cheekbones. You studied the pout of his lower lip and his Adam's apple as it bobbed with his throat muscles. He was so many things to you. None of which you could put into words. You didn’t think a word had even been invented yet. It didn’t matter. You were both making your own rules. And it seemed, for once, that the both of you were on the same page and playing by the same rules.

“I want you to have me.” You confessed, meeting his gaze.

And there it was. He was resigned to having you in limited capacity. You were resigned to finally letting him have you. Two conclusions coming together at the same moment. You weren’t quite sure what that meant for you both, but it was a start. 

“Goodnight.” You whispered into the darkened cab, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You didn’t wait for him to react. You turned and opened the door, exiting the vehicle. He didn’t try to stop you. You rounded the front of the car, hearing the driver’s side window slide down.

“So I’ll see you next week?” Rio asked out the open window, chin resting in his hand.

“At the drop?”

He nodded.

You shook your head and laughed, though there was no real humor behind it.

“You wanna tell me again it wasn’t about me?” You challenged, a wide grin decorating your face.

He could deny it. He would probably try. But you knew the truth. And that was enough.

For now.

“Night.” He called, an amused upturn of his lips showing in the light of the full moon.

He turned to the street, starting the car as you walked up your driveway. His eyes followed you the whole way, ensuring you made it in safely.

You heard him drive away once you shut and locked the front door, your lungs releasing a long breath. You pulled out your cell phone and went to your blocked caller list. You selected Rio’s number and unblocked the listing, adrenaline releasing into your bloodstream as you did.

Almost immediately your screen lit up with a text.

Same time and place tomorrow?

You bit your lip, feelings akin to teenage infatuation bubbling to the surface. You hastily typed a response.

See you there.

The message was read immediately. 

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl​

[multi-fandom-fanfiction]

WHAT I HAVE TO DO

Here is a list of my......

Request

ship request

drafts

Things I have to do

Ideas 

let me know which of these interest you guys the most and I will start with that. I am not sure where to start with so many so if you guys could vote and any you would like to see first.

These are all the requests I have for ships and Imagines if you don't see yours it was either lost or I never got it please resend it. 

ship request

A Riverdale Male ship

A TVD unspecified gender X Gender Neutral ship

A male and female Riverdale ship

A TVD and Riverdale Male and Female ship

Male MCU and Riverdale ship

Actor and Character ship for MCU and TO

Requests

Jamie and Cersei Lannister X Daughter!Reader (Platonic)

(Cersei wants to marry off there daughter but she is Jamie”s pride and joy and wont let that happen)

FP Jones X Teen!Reader (Smut) (FP Jones x reader!teens!rough)

Joffery Baratheon X Sister!Reader (Platonic!!!) he’s sadistic like joffery? that’s the reason they’re really close and trust each other more than anything

Joffery Baratheon X Sister!Reader (Smut) (joffrey imagine where him and his sister (2 years older) have always had sexual tension but they never saw it that way and one night while she’s changing joffrey bursts through the door angry about something but stops when he sees her. both of them at this point are horny for each other and he comes up to her kissing her while he grabs her breast and shes kind of in shock still but melts into it and yeah they have sex on the bed and take turns topping each other)

Ramsay Bolton X Sister!Reader (Smut) (Ramsay (got) has a younger sister and they often have intercourse, but this one night Ramsay brings Reek, his father and mother into readers room and ties them up. He tells them to watch. So Ramsay and her have really rough sex and tells them to look at her and makes her look at them to make sure they knows how good Ramsay makes her feel. When they’re done they kill them)

Betty Cooper X Fem!Reader (damn! i would have never imagined myself being with betty but when i was reading your post, u couldn't stop myself from smiling! soft girlfriends haha. i love it! 💖💖💖 could you do something like this but as best friends with cheryl/toni or even both if it's not too hard for you? i wanna see where it would go!)

Daenerys Targaryen X mercenary!male reader (The reader is a mercenary whom Cersei hires to kidnap Daenerys shortly after she arrives at Dragonstone. But instead of bringing Dany to Cersei, the mercenary decides to keep her for himself and tame her into becoming his willing lover)

Cersei Lannister X Fem!Reader (The reader faints in Cersei"s arm)

Petyr Baelish X Baratheon Fem!Reader (Semi Requested!) (Now that all of her brothers are gone Robert"s legitimate daughter has risen to be seated on the throne. Her council is demanding a husband what will the new queen do!)

Robb Stark X Baratheon Fem!Reader (Hey I love your work! Could I request some angsty robb stark x reader? Maybe reader is Cersei and robert’s true child and was married off to robb. Cersei is very distressed about your wellbeing when the war breaks out and when she learns of the plans of the red wedding, she begs her father to spare you. He does but at a price for your continued show of hatred of the Baratheons and lannisters. Letting you have to watch as robb dies and returning you home without realizing you’re pregnant.)

A wolverine request but I can't find the info (so if you requested a wolverine request please resend it)

In my drafts

Billy Hargrove X Fem!Reader and Steve Harrigton X Fem!Reader

Lip Gallagher X Sister!Reader (Maybe smut not sure)

Jughead Jones X Plus Sized Fem!Reader

Joffery Barathen X Twin!Sister Reader (Smut)

Sam and Dean Winchester X Sister!Reader (smut but none between Sam and Dean)

Ivar the Boneless X sister!Reader (Maybe smut not sure)

Jim Hopper X Younger Fem!Reader

FP Jones X Younger Fem!Reader X Gladys Jones (Smut)

Sweet Pea X Fem!Reader X Reggie Mantle (Smut? Nothing between Sweet Pea and Reggie/ )

Cheryl Blossom X Fem!Reader X Betty Cooper (Smut /Nothing between Betty and Cheryl/)

FP Jones X Fem!Reader X Sweet Pea (Smut/Nothing between FP and Sweet Pea)

Daenerys Targaryen X Fem!Reader X Sansa Stark (Smut / Nothing between Dany and Sansa)

Joffery Baratheon X Sister!Reader X Sansa Stark (Smut)

Margaery Tyrell X Baratheon(Lannister) Fem!Reader X Sansa Stark (Smut/Nothing between Margaery and Sansa)

Ramsay Bolton X Sister!Reader X Sansa Stark (Smut)

Ragnar Lothbrok X Christian Princess!Reader X Ivar Lothbrok (Smut/Nothing between Ragnar and Ivar/)

Lagertha X Lothbrok Fem!Reader x Torvi (Smut)

lagertha x Ealhmunding!reader x ragnar Lothbrok(smut)

Billy Hargrove X Harrington Fem!Reader

Steve Harrgton X Henderson Fem!Reader

Jason Dean X Fem!Reader

Mark Sloan X Shepherd!Reader

other things I have to do

Post the next few updates to A Dark Truth

Update my books on wattpad

ideas I have that I may post to get back into writing to add to the drafts for another time

Bellamy Blake X Fem!Reader

Klaus Mikaelson X Fem!Reader

Lincoln Kom Trikru X Fem!Reader

Damon Salvatore X Fem!reader

Octavia Blake X Fem!Reader

Kai Parker X Fem!Reader

Raven Reyes X Fem!Reader

Sebastian X Fem!Reader

Josephine Lightbourne X Fem!Reader

Hope Mikaelson X Fem!Reader

Chuck Bass X Fem!Reader

Lizzie Saltzman X Fem!Reader

Blair Waldorf X Fem!Reader

Dark!Josie Saltzman X Fem Reader

Bellamy Blake X Sister!Reader (Smut)

Caroline Forbes X Fem!Reader

Bellamy Blake X Sister Reader X Octavia Blake (smut)

Rebekah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Klaus Mikaelson X Sister!Reader (Smut)

Klaus X sister!Reader X Rebekah (Smut)

[moonlightsolo]

Live Aid 1985

request: She’s in the band (she plays the piano) and on live Aid, Freddie gets the crowd to sing Happy birthday! - @80s90steen

pairing: queen x female reader (platonic)

word count: 1.7k

warnings: fluff, a lil bit of crying, stage fright, anxiety, overall lots of fun & proud moments!

a/n: ok so all the boys supporting their younger girl band member is the cutest thing ever. i kinda made roger her closest band member? although all the boys are close tbh. i hope you like it, i worked really hard on this lol. (maybe i’ll do a backstory pt. 2 to this? leave some feedback)

The muffled music on the loudspeaker in Wembley Stadium gives you goosebumps, you sit in the trailer with the boys relaxing as you try to get your nerves to calm down. You couldn’t get over how Live Aid is broadcasted to billions of viewers across the globe, it doesn’t feel real.

The laughs of conversation of your band mates made you smile as you focus on their conversation, “What are you going on about, Roger?” Your accented voice fills their ears, you reach over to slap Rog’s arm.

“Just makin’ fun of how you’re zoning out, love.” He playfully tells you, that’s obviously not what they were talking about, right? You just roll your eyes at his comment. Although, the peaceful sound of Brian strumming on his guitar makes you feel less anxious.

A knock that sounds on the door of the trailer makes everybody shut their mouths. Jim gets up from his seat to answer it and before he could speak, Brian peeks his head around the corner of the doorway. “Hello, Mary.” He says with a grin.

“Hello Brian. We’ve just come to wish you good luck.” Her soft voice speaks which makes Freddie perk up and waltz over to her to give her a kiss on the cheek. Fred introduces Jim to Mary and David.

You can’t keep your hands still as your fingers absentmindedly ‘play’ the piano keys on your knees, almost like you’re practicing. Roger, being the closest one to you, notices and puts his hand on top of your fidgeting ones. “Calm down, we’ve done concerts before, right?” You just smile and agree. It didn’t really help much though.

Fred and you will be playing as a duo on the piano together for the opening song, Bohemian Rhapsody. It’s what you both always do. You notice Freddie usher Jim to go with Mary and David, leaving the band to themselves.

“What do we think of David?” Fred asks in thought as he leans back in his chair, you and Rog look at each other.

“Nice chap,” Brian says with a small smile as he nods, his curls bobbing along with it. “I think he’s gay,” Freddie says with a smirk. Roger chuckles in response. Everyone chats among themaldives, you join in on some conversations too.

“We’ll be on in about one minute.” The announcer tells the crowd, you can hear them all applaud out there.

Freddie looks over the band, “There’s no need to be nervous, loves. How many times have we done this? I cannot count on my fingers and toes.” He gives the band his famous grin.

He sends a reassuring nod your way when the door is knocked on once again; You just smile at him. Rog gets up as Fred leaves the trailer, taking his leather jacket off to hang to the crew member outside.

When you get up, you check yourself in the standalone mirror next to your seat. You’re wearing a fitted white v-notch neck tee that’s paired with high waisted denim cuffed jeans, layered gold necklaces, and white hightop chucks. “You look great, don’t worry.” Brian chuckles as he walks out after Rog and Deacy.

The crew members walking backstage all focus on the band, starstruck by the five of you. It felt nice to be back in this element. You watch as Fred jumps excitedly, pumping his fists back and forth in the air. John puts an arm around your shoulders as you all walk up the ramp, his own smile is big too. Everyone is so ecstatic.

“You ready, birthday girl?” He asks as you all near the white curtain, a man pulls it back for Queen to walk on the stage; Freddie being the first one out, not wasting any time.

The four of you lose your breath for a moment as you look over all the people, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” John pulls his arm off of you as he walks out to his bass guitar on stage, his hand coming up to wave. You take a deep breath and take a step onto the stage, the crowd screams as Queen begins to set up.

You wave with a big smile on your face, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you look over the crowd and blow kisses to the— Your signature move.

Freddie begins to play some keys on the piano, the crowd dying down slightly as they listen. You slide next to him on the piano bench as he starts to play the main notes to the song. Your hands instinctively play the right notes. You press the keys, creating a beautiful melody as he starts to sing. The stadium roars, you can’t help but get emotional.

Your vocals join in with Freddie’s as you sing, “Mama... Oooo ooo oo,” into the mic with him. His free arm slings around your shoulders as you both double task to play the piano and sing. You smile and lean into him for the last part, “Cause nothing really matters...” You move your mouth towards the mic to sing, catching Freddie’s eyes. You can tell he is so happy.

-

After Bohemian Rhapsody, you move over to the keyboard to play it as Freddie sings and prances among the edge of the stage. Your body bounces with the beat as your fingers press on the keyboard to create sound.

You sing into your provided mic, “All we hear is, radio gaga! Radio goo goo! Radio gaga! All we hear is, radio gaga! Radio goo goo! Radio blah blah!” You sing into the mic as you watch the audience clap.

“Radio what’s new? Radio, someone still loves you...” Freddie sings as he walks up to the drums then back down in front of them. “Loooooves....!” He sticks his tongue out at the camera before continuing, “Yoooooou!” Freddie gets down on the stage floor, extending the mic stick next to his leg.

Your hands pull away from the keyboard when the rest of the instruments cut off, rocking on your heels excitedly your hands pump in the air. Your eyes look over the band, your family. You’ve all come so far from the little pubs in London.

Rog catches your eye as he nods his head towards Freddie. You watch as he walks to the edge of the stage. “Ayo!” His magnificent voice sings. The audience instantly mimicked him making goosebumps stand on your skin.

You looked over at Deacy with a proud smile, he has the same look on his face. Freddie continues having the audience echo him. It is surreal how the audience reacts to him, how he controls what they say. “Alright!” He finishes with a smile, reaching the mic over the stage towards the audience.

“Hey hey hey hey hey! Hammer to fall!” On that cue, Brian and John start to play the guitar part as Roger hits his drums. Your hands go to your keyboard to play again.

-

“Loveys! Before we leave, I have a special request for you all today...” He trails off as he glances back at you, his chest heaving from extertion. The crowd cheers in response. “Before we leave, I have to announce that one of our band members is celebrating a very, very special day. Not only is it Live Aid day but its... her birthday.” He emphasizes the words as he points at you. Your cheeks instantly redden, shaking your head as you grin from ear to ear.

Freddie walks over to the grand piano, his hand expertly plays the tune to the ‘happy birthday’ song without looking. You walk in front of the keyboard as the rest of your band members come to stand next to you. Rog puts his arm around your shoulders with Bri next to you and Deacy next to Bri.

“Sing it!!” He screams enthusiastically into the mic. The audience and the boys sing along with him, “Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, Miss Y/N Y/L/N...” His dark brown eyes trail to you, your own eyes obviously glistening with happy tears. “Happy birthday to you!” He presses some keys to finish the song before he comes running over to you.

He practically tackles you in a hug and almost lifts you up from the ground. Then the boys join in, you’re surrounded by them all; although it was definitely a very sweaty group hug. “I love you, boys!!!” You say so they could only hear.

“We love you too!” They said in unison before pulling away. You all walk confidently to the front of the stage to bow. Roger’s arm still around you as you both bow in unison. You raise your hand to blow a kiss to the crowd and wave. Roger walks with you off stage, his arm falling from your shoulder to go celebrate with the boys.

Your eyes search around for Freddie, seeing him talking to Bowie near the picnic tables. Your eyes light up as you jog over to them, not wanting to interrupt their conversation but you did anyway.

As you gain speed, you pounce onto Fred’s back and wrap your legs around his waist. A big smooch landing onto his cheek, “You did amazing, darling.” A nickname you’ve grown accustomed to. “As did you, lovely.”

Freddie smiles at your response. “You’ve met before right?” Fred says sarcastically.

“God, Fred... You’re putting me under pressure with that question!” You let out a faux groan. Your smile widened when you saw the pun click in their heads.

Brian comes up behind you three, “Wow, Fred. I don’t get that kind of treatment.” He motions towards you with his hand. “I’m just special.” You stick your nose up in the air with a smug grin.

“Oh okay. Mhm.” Brian has a mischievous smile on his face. Before you could question him, his hands clutch your waist to pull you off of Freddie. Of course, you didn’t want to drag Mr. Mercury down with you so you let go of him.

“Ya twit!” You yelp, pushing him away. You grab the scrunchy off of your wrist to tie your hair on top of your head in a side pony. “You’re gonna get it, May.” You started to run after him like playing a game of tag.

“Even in their early thirties, they still act like damn children.” Freddie scoffs, crossing his arms as he proudly watches you tackle Brian successfully.

“Ha! Even with those long legs, I still caught up to you!” You exclaim loudly, people sitting and some walking around all turn to stare but you couldn’t care any less.

[after-hours-art]

On the day of Christmas, my true love gave to me

Pairing: Chuck Bass x f!reader

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings: x

24th of December is nothing. At least not to Chuck Bass. All he can remember from those so-called Christmas Eve are either baquettes that his father was invited to or some quiet days in apartment suites, when he was still too much of a child to attend Christmas parties for New York business elites. Therefore, 24 of December is just that - a 24th day of December, 358th day of the year (359th if it's a leap year). That's, at least, until he met you.

//24th of December//

//3pm//

You sit on the couch at your family home, looking at your family rushing around the huge tree that's by the staircase. Chuck seats next to you. It took you whole November to persuade him to join you and your family for Christmas. He insisted that he has his own traditions, but you knew it's only a facade he puts up so as not to admit he spends Christmas usually just drinking alone. So he ended up here, in the last place he'd guess he would.

He looks at you, surprised to find out that you're not smiling. You're nothing like your mom who sings some children song about the Christmas tree, your sister joining in. You look tired. Exhausted even, and yet all you did whole day was little help with vegetable salad. Are you sad because there's no snow this year?

- Hey, you okay? - he asks quietly. You've never seen a shy Chuck Bass, yet the second he stepped in your family home, something switched in him. All the confidence evaporated like air from popped balloon. As if he's trying to do anything to not be noticed.

You look at him, sipping on hot coffee.

- Yeah. I'm just pretending I'm not here, so I won't be part of... all that. - you murmur, looking at your family. You love your family, it is obvious that you do. But family gatherings are hell for you. You don't like Christmas, yet you come every year because... that's what you're supposed to do.

- You know you don't have to do that, you know? You can just...do your own thing.

- Not everyone have Christmas in hotel rooms with stuff they can just send away. - you answer, swallowing with guilt when you realise how cold your words must have sound for Chuck. You look at him realising that Chuck probably never had real Christmas with a tree that he and his family decorated, with making vegetable salad on their own. You feel sad for him for a moment, knowing that Bart Bass probably isn't big on Christmas. And his mother is known to he dead in childbirth.

- I... - you start and take his hand. - I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just... the everywhere is better where we are not. While I wish for lonely Christmas, you... - you pause and look at your family, your mother and sister discussing Christmas ornaments placements, your dad running to the kitchen every 2 minutes despite being sick and having private chef for today he wants to make sure everything is right way. You sigh and look at him, his features softer than usually, yet there's a significant tension in him.

- ...you might have dreamed of what I have. - you finish the sentence quietly. Chuck takes deeper breath, putting hand on your knee. In Bass household, or rather hotel suite, Christmas wasn't a big deal. Lack of woman's touch may have also affected how Bass men have spent the last 20 Christmases of Chuck's life. And here's you, dragging him to Christmas party you yourself don't even want to attend. As if that's supposed to change his mind about all family things as well as celebrations. You two sit in silence for a moment, reflecting on your own pasts. After a while, you give him a gentle nudge.

- Go. Hang out with them. - you say, pointing at your family with sublte movement of your head.

- I don't want to. - he says quietly. You sigh and squeeze his hand.

- You're staring at them and that tree like an idiot. Go. Help them. I bet you never decorated a tree before. - you say, knowing that you're right. Chuck shoots at you colder glare - it's not time nor place for potential fights.

- And I'm not staring. - he scoffs. Another few minutes pass, and the air between you grows heavier with the tension. You catch Chuck clenching his jaw.

- Chuck... - you start quietly. He doesn't answer nor does anything to show that he's listening. You just observe your family, having a playful argument over the placement of the ornaments. He won't say it, but he is trying to imagine himself, ten years old, fifteen years old, and finally now at twenty-one years old, decorating a conifer. He wants to scoff at that. He wants to mock the stupid tradition. Yet, he can't. He can't because deep down, something in him strives to do just that - decorate the stupid conifer with mismatched Christmas balls, light chains and in the end put carefully, personally wrapped gifts under said tree. And there's you, who had all that for your whole life, yet you don't seem to enjoy it one bit. As if you are taking this family being close so much for granted, you're raised in so much love that you can't see or sympathize with him over that.

- I'll go if you go. - he says finally. You stare at him confused, not sure what he's referring to.

- The tree. I'll go help decorate it if you do too. - he says quietly, his leg shaking a litte, a sign of anxiety and nervousness. You feel your heart throb a little for him. You never saw him this nervous before. Maybe when he had to close a business deal or when something particu disturbing comes up in your lives. But here he is, the confident Chuck Bass, shaking like a leaf before hanging a couple of Christmas balls on the branches of the tree. You sigh. You hate it. You hate decorating, singing Christmas carols, all that Christmas crap. However, seeing a spark in his eyes, you can't say no. It's like seeing a twenty years old man turn into a boy. Finally, you nod.

- Fine. Let's go.

He grabs your hand, pulling you off the couch. Once you join your family, your mother smiles explaining to Chuck in which canton box are which ornaments, your sister rambles about the 'colour theme' and 'aesthetics' and whatever her future architect mind came up with. Your dad runs off to the kitchen again when he hears the timer go off, a sign that soup is ready. Everything looks like a scene from one of those cheesy Hallmark movies that Chuck watched once or twice when he was a kid. Then he loved the concept, yet never got to experience it. Now he does. And it feels to him better than anything else.

//5pm//

Once the tree it ready, it took you a good few hours since the tree is huge, and you sit down for supper. Chuck can't help but smile. Maybe not 12, but at least 8 dishes, candles, lightening, little hay on the table, oranges with cloves make the room smell amazing. None of his previous Christmases smelled like cloves. But this does. He swallows nervously when your grandmother hands everyone communion wafers. He never said any more meaningful wishes than 'Merry Christmas'. Maybe to you or his friends on their birthdays or in his best man's speech on his father's wedding with Lily van der Woodsen, but aside from that, never. Seeing you bite his lower lip, he leans closer and whispers to your ear.

- Wanna share wishes first? - he asks quietly. You nod. Wishes are hardest for you, too - simply because you're more of an introvert and sharing anything close to feelings constantly makes you uncomfortable despite years passing by.

- So... Chuck... - you start with unusual stutter in your voice. - I... I wish you all the best. Success with Empire. Friends. Family. Happiness. Health... - you murmur, shooting classic wishes. Finally, you lean to him and kiss him gently.

- I love you. - you say. - You're... Best things that happened to me.

Chuck's cheeks flush with pink, feeling somehow flustered by your words, simple and nervous, yet you meant them. He swallows and starts.

- Y/N... I love you. And...and I never really wished anyone anything on Christmas. It's some European tradition, right? - he chuckles. - So... I wish you all the best, for you to be happy, thrive at university, make friends, put up with me being an asshole... - he chuckles again. - And thank you for inviting me here. - he says, placing a kiss on your forehead.

After everyone break the communion wafers with every member of family and with Chuck it's time for fiest. Borscht, fish, ham, herrings in cream, vegetable salad... all the goodness of Christmas food land on the table. Your family talks loudly. First, about food, then somehow it shifts to politics. Chuck stays mostly silent, still little blushed after your sister wished you and him to get married, just taking in the atmosphere and warm feeling of belonging. Because he feels like he belongs in this gathering.

//10pm//

Supper passes in a warm and happy atmosphere, ends up in drunk adults, and your sister laughs hysterically on the couch after your mom and grandmother make a joke. You sit next to Chuck on the couch, many presents at your feet, a few at his. You tilt your head and rest on his shoulder. His hand lands on yours, gently squeezing it.

- Hey... you tired? - he asks quietly.

- Yeah. A little. - you murmur, visibly mentally drained from the celebrations and interactions. He gently brushes your knuckles with his thumb.

- Y/N... Thank you. - he says quietly.

- Huh? - you look at him. - For what?

- For inviting me to your family's Christmas. For giving me.... Christmas for Christmas. - he chuckles and smiles, turning his head to kiss your forehead. You chuckle and smile.

- You're welcome - you murmur in sleepy voice. The talk at the table shifts to the selling apartment of your late great-grandmother, investing in something new and renting it. You sigh in contentment. Christmas passed, you had relatively fun, and you saw that Chuck enjoyed it too. And that was all you wanted.

Chuck smiles softly.

- Wanna go to bed?

- Yeah.

He let go of your hand, stands up, and gently picks you up in bridal style. He says a quick 'good night' to your family members. They don't really listen as they're too invested in the conversation. He carries you to your bedroom, placing you on the bed.

- Help? - you ask quietly, wanting little help with unzipping your dress. Chuck smiles and helps you get out of the red satin, smiling at white slip underneath. You both change in the same room, replacing your fancy party outfits with cosy pyjamas. You move your plushies aside to make a little more space for Chuck in your bed. He smiles and slides under the duvets next to you, letting you cuddle to him and rest your head on his chest. He kisses top of your head, your hair ticking his lips for a moment. You close your eyes and pass out without saying goodnight, making him chuckle. He holds you a little tighter, pulling blankets over you to make sure that you're warm. He smiles to himself, holding you close, almost not believing that he got it all - the hotel, true love in the form of you, and family Christmas Eve he had always dreamed of. When he closes his eyes, he's happy, soundly falling asleep to the white nose of your soft breaths.

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Love Me Before You Leave

Fandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor X reader ( can be read as actual Roger Taylor)

TW: swearing, angsty

Genre Angst with a fluffy ending

Word Count:3.4K

Requests: OPEN

A/n: So, I wrote this for @queens-n-roses  2K writing challenge, written to the song ‘Love Me Before You Leave’ By COmmon Kings. I am so sorrI am late posting this, school work has been crazy. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Want you to love me before you leave

Let me hold you before you go

Just remember the time we shared and remember you touched my soul We don't know where life will take us I'll hold my breath and be patient So won't you love me before you leave

"Morning, baby." Roger hummed against your neck, arm thrown lazily over your hip. You tensed as his lips brushed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hey, Roger." You mumbled, shifting out of his grip quickly.

"Everything okay?" Roger asked quietly, sitting up, confused as to why you'd parted from him so suddenly.

"Yeah. Just feeling a bit off, that's all." You lied smoothly, pulling a shirt over your head. "I need to get to work, I'm gonna be late."

"Come cuddle with me. Let me hold you before you go." Roger whined, making grabby hands at you. You let out a heavy sigh, guilt climbing through your veins, before stepping over into his waiting arms.

Roger was worried. You hadn't been acting like yourself for a few weeks. You'd stopped coming to the studio, refused to see his friends, cancelled date night as much as possible and you were cold and distant. Something wasn't right. He'd tried getting through to you, but it was like talking to a wall. He missed you. And it made him more anxious about the ring that was hidden in his sock drawer. Your head rested on his chest, listening to his gentle heartbeat. Tears burned the back of your eyes as his hand moved to rest on your stomach.

"You need to head to the studio." You said weakly, climbing from his arms. He grabbed your wrist before you could get off the bed.

"Darling, what's going on? You've been acting odd" Roger sounded so concerned, it only made it harder for you to hide your tears.

"Everything is fine, Rog. I promise." You huffed, carefully working your wrist from his fingers, wandering over to the closet to finish getting ready.

"Baby I just... alright. If you say so. I'm going to get ready." Roger shook his head, getting up and throwing on the outfit that had been abandoned in the corner. You swiped at your eyes before beginning to apply some makeup. Roger glanced at you, clearly distressed, placing a kiss on your cheek and walking out. The door to the house slammed shut behind him and you rushed into action. You tugged a bag and two boxes from under your bed, quickly chucking any clothes and belongings in sight. Tears began pouring from your eyes. Sobs escaped your chest as you packed. You left an hour later, a singular note on the fridge.

Every moment with you Been perfect for me & baby you're telling me that we could never be And now I'm like Cool it down, cool it down, take a minute You say you have to go But yesterday your heart was in it My love Oh woah oh Let me say what I need to say

"I just don't know what's wrong. I've tried everything with no proper response." Roger placed his face in his hands, all the boys watching him sadly.

"Maybe you've chosen the wrong words? We all know you're not exactly subtle."Brian offered, trying to make his friend feel better.

"I'm starting to feel to wonder if she even wants to be with me." Roger declared, feeling his eyes water at the thought.

"Are you kidding? She looks at you like you've hung the stars and the moons in the sky." Freddie replied quickly, placing a hand on the drummer's shoulder.

"She means the world to me. I don't want to lose her." The band had never heard Roger so lost. So heartbroken.

"I know, Roger. But it's hard for her. She's not used to this kind of life." Deaky reasoned, knelt in front of his friend.

"You guys will be okay. It's just going to take a bit of time and a lot of love." Freddie added. Roger sighed heavily, scrubbing the tears from his eyes.

"Thanks, guys. C'mon, enough of the sappy shit. Let's make some music." Roger stated, running a hand through his hair. getting up and heading to the drum risers.

"I don't think Roger's doing as well as he acts," Brian muttered in a hushed tone, pulling the guitar strap over his head, adjusting the tightness of it.

"No, he's not. But we know he won't open up any more than he already has All we can do is be there for him when he needs it." Deaky sighed, already tuning his bass.

"Roger's not stupid. Most of the time. He'll come to us if he needs us." Freddie chipped in before waltzing over to the piano.

"I'll call (Y/N) later. See if she'll talk." Brian said voice laced with worry.

"Let me know how it goes, okay?" Deaky asked, ignoring how Roger began pounding at his drums and how Freddie magically formed a rhythm to the randomized, sporadic drumming.

"Yeah, course. C'mon Deaks, let's go before Freddie hangs us."

"(Y/N), I'm home!" Roger called as he opened the door, slipping his shoes off and hanging his coat by the door, sunglasses perched on his head.

"(Y/N)?" Roger made his way to the living room, noticing the lack of fo light. He jogged to the kitchen, soon spying the note on the fridge. He was expecting something like you were going out with friends. He didn't expect a note reading:

'I'm sorry Roger. We both know this wouldn't work. I love you. -Y/n'

Roger's eyes began leaking, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, dread coursing through him. His feet couldn't move fast enough as he raced to the bedroom. The drummer felt his knees give out, falling onto the bed when he saw the room barren of your belongings. He buried his face in his hands, sobs wracking his body.

And now I'm like Cool it down, cool it down, take a minute You say you have to go But yesterday your heart was in it My love Oh woah oh Let me say what I need to say

"Roger, what's wrong?" Brian asked, unease pouring into his voice at the sounds of his friend hiccuping.

"She's gone, Bri. She's gone." He cried, fingers tugging at his blonde locks.

"Who's gone?" Brian pushed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulled on his shoes, getting ready to leave the studio with Deaky and Freddie.

"Is Roger okay?" Freddie mouthed, shrugging on his coat. Brian shook his head, taking the phone back between his fingers.

"(Y/N)," Roger answered shakily, holding the phone tightly.

"(Y/N)? Have you tried calling her parents or Freddie's? Or her friends?" Brian suggested, feeling the eyes of his bandmates boring into him.

"No. She left a note saying we can't be together. I-I just the thought - I should've realized- fuck, I'm the worst boyfriend ever!" Brian could hear the anger and self-depreciation seep into Roger's voice.

"Roger, calm down. I think something isn't right with (Y/N). She adores you. Just hold on, I'm coming over." The guitarist sighed before placing the phone down. Brian jumped into action, grabbing his keys.

"I'll come with you. I just need to call Veronica. I'll catch up." Deaky exclaimed as Brian dashed down the hall.

"You need to find (Y/N), Freddie. She's your cousin if anyone knows where she'll be, it's you." Deaky informed the singer as he began dialling his houses number.

"On it. I'll find her darling, don't worry." Freddie responded before exiting to his car.

Want you to love me before you leave Let me hold you before you go Just remember the time we shared and remember you touched my soul We don't know where life will take us I'll hold my breath and be patient So won't you love me before you leave And let me hold you before you Go oh, Oh woah oh, oh woah And let me hold you before you Go oh

You didn't visit your aunt, uncle and cousin very often. Only when you needed advice and right now, you needed as much advice as you could get. With a heavy breath, you knocked on the door, wiping at your eyes one last time.

"Oh, (Y/N)! It's so good to see you." Your aunt exclaimed, bringing you into a tight hug.

"Hi, Auntie. Good to see you too. Is Kash here?" You questioned, giving her a forced smile.

"She's just upstairs in her room. Say hello to your uncle before you say hello to Kash." She replied, leading you through the house to the kitchen, where your uncle was sitting, reading the newspaper.

"Ah, (Y/N). How's that boy treating? How's Farrokh?" Your uncle greeted softly, glancing at you over his glasses. You paused.

"Everything's amazing, uncle. Freddie's doing well, his band is phenomenal. And R-Roger treats me like a goddess." You choked out twirling the promise ring Roger gave you anxiously.

"Good. I wouldn't expect that kind of treatment from a boy like him." He said with a raised eyebrows.

"I'm going to talk to Kash. I'll talk to you guys later." You gave another fake smile before wandering upstairs to your cousin's room. Your soft knocking echoed through the dim corridor, which was soon answered by your youngest cousin, Kashmira.

"Oh, hi (Y/N). You okay?" Kash questioned and you shook your head, biting your lip nervously.

"Can we talk about this in your room?" You requested softly.

"Of course. C'mon in." Kash mumbled, opening the door to reveal her bed, a mountain of homework piled upon it.

"You look busy." You chuckled, weakly, taking a seat on her desk chair as she perched on the edge of the bed.

"Just a little. Anyways, what's up?" She enquired, resting her hands in her lap.

"I...I left Roger this morning..." You confessed, eyes fixed on the ground.

"You did what?" Kash uttered, eyes wide. "Why?"

"I-I just- I saw something that made me think we're not good together. An article saying I was dragging him down. I don't want to be an anchor." You explained, twisting your ring again.

"Did you seriously believe an article? Hun, you know that the media just wants to stir drama about Queen and its members. Freddie's had it so many times." Kash stood up and took your hands, running her thumbs over them calmingly.

"I know that, but they're right. I'm nothing like Roger. And every day there's a new way of dragging him down." You defended, beginning to feel tears burning the backs if your eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" She pushed cautiously, tilting your head up to her.

"I-I-we-he's..." You began, choking on air as a tear made its way down your cheek, Kash held your cheeks gently.

"(Y/N), darling, breathe. C'mon. In and out." She guided quietly, letting you calm down. After a few minutes, you took a deep breath.

"I-I'm pregnant. A-And I don't know if R-Roger wants a kid or-or if he even sees a future with me. I'm not sure if I can be a mom." You were panicking, heart beating in your ears so loud that you didn't hear the door open.

"Kash, what's going on?" Freddie asked, surprised to see his cousin falling apart in his sister's arms.

"Maybe you should talk to her, Fred. I'll be downstairs with mama and papa if you need me."Kash muttered, allowing Freddie to scoop you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. You buried your face in his neck, tears soaking the turtle neck he wore. Kash closed the door behind her, giving you some privacy.

"Now dear, what are the waterworks for?" Freddie asked, voice delicate as he began running his fingers through your hair.

"Freddie, I'm pregnant and-and I know that Roger probably doesn't even want a kid and doesn't see a future with me and I don't know if-" You were cut off by Freddie carefully pulling your face from his neck, placing a finger on your lips.

"Now, hush, darling. That's utter nonsense. He thinks the world of you, loves you with every fibre of his being. I've never seen Roger look or act like that with anyone before you. He's whipped. And how do you know that Roger doesn't want a kid? Have you even spoken to him about it?" Freddie shot back, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and wiping your eyes.

"He's a rockstar. Why would he want anything to do with someone like me?" You asked sarcastically, causing Freddie's lips to quirk up a little at the return of your normal attitude.

"Because you, my darling, are an enigma. Someone that Roger adores beyond words. You're kind, funny, compassionate, understanding and accepting. You've changed Roger for the better." He smiled slightly.

"I-I just need to sleep on it, okay? I'll talk to Roger, promise."

Don't you get what we got? No, we can't be replaced One moment we're holding hands And you leave without a trace

It had taken Brian and Deaky an hour to calm down the hysterical drummer. Roger had gone between sobbing into his friend's shoulder to yelling at himself, to throwing various items across the living room and then back to crying. Eventually, Deaky had managed to settle Roger onto the couch, Brian knelt in front of him, a hand on his knee.

"I don't know why she left. What did I do?" Roger mopped, resting his chin on his hand.

"I'm not sure, Roger. Freddie's gone to find her, bud. He'll talk to her." Deaky placed some water in front of the blue-eyed drummer, resting on the armrest of the couch.

"I... I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Want to marry her, have kids with her. All that. I love her." Roger blurted out, yanking a jewelled ring from his pocket and twirling it between his fingers. Deaky's eyes widened with Brian's.

"You really mean that?"Brian questioned.

"No, of course, I don't. That's the whole fucking reason I've got a ring in my hand."Roger snapped miserably. All heads snapped in the direction of the door as it opened, Freddie stood in the doorway.

"So, did you find her?" Brian asked, eyebrows raised and eyes still widened in shock.

"She's with my parents and my sister. She's going to stay there for a night or two to think things over then she'll come to talk to you." Freddie commented, folding his arms, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Did she tell you why she left?" Roger enquired sadly.

"She did indeed, but I think it's something she needs to tell you herself."

You know that I love you as hard as I try I'll never get over your baby blue eyes You know that I love you as hard as I try I'll never get over your baby blue eyes

You tossed and turned that night, restlessly. Every time you closed your eyes, he was there, memories flashing behind your eyelids, like a personal movie. Your arm held your stomach protectively as you tried to get some rest, but it was all pointless.

"Get off!" Roger exclaimed between giggles as your fingers prodded at his sides, your legs straddling his waist. His bandmates watched with joy as you tickled the blonde-haired boy.

"Not until you say that I won!" You screeched, letting out a loud laugh as Roger flipped you over.

"Never." He whispered in your ear before digging his fingers into your stomach. You screamed out a laugh, trying to shove him off of you,

The sun was beating down on you, sunglasses balanced on the end of your nose. You were sat in a beach chair, the boys letting out shouts as they splashed water over each other. Roger had tried to make you join in, to get your nose out of the book you were reading, with no luck. But this time, as he made his way over to you, he couldn't stop his eyes dragging over you. You looked so adorable when you were concentrating, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Your hair had been pulled back into a bun, the wind was blowing a few pieces of escaped hair around your ears. You looked... gorgeous to him. You looked over your glasses at him.

"What you staring at, Rog?" You smiled, placing a bookmark in your book and setting it down as Roger came to kneel beside your chair, pulling your hand into his.

"You. You're so beautiful. I can't believe that I'm the lucky guy who gets to love you." He stated, too awed to realize what he'd said. You froze for a second before letting a grin slide onto your face. That was the first time he'd ever said 'I love you'.

"I love you too, Roger, so much."

You knew that you wouldn't be able to wait an extra day to see Roger. Those ocean eyes would haunt you until the day you died.

Cool it down, cool it down Take a minute you say you have to go But yesterday your heart was in it, my love

Roger looked like a mess when he opened the door to your house. Probably as bad as you did. His eyes were red, bloodshot and puffy, he had bags under his eyes and his clothes were messy. If he only looked like that after one night, you were concerned about what would happen if you left for over a week.

"Oh, (Y/N), hey." Roger murmured, moving out of the way so you could walk in.

"Hi, Roger. Can we talk?" You asked quietly, stepping inside, heading towards the living room. Roger closed the door with a soft click and followed after you, sitting on the couch opposite you, nodding silently.

"So you probably have some questions..." You started but before you could continue, Roger had already begun asking questions.

"Why did you leave? Did I do something wrong?" Roger was giving you puppy eyes, messed hair hanging in front of his bright eyes.

"You... you did nothing wrong, love. I panicked and I ran. I shouldn't have done it and I'm so sorry." You tried, but Roger narrowed his eyes, but not with anger, for once.

"Do you really mean that? About us not being good together? That we won't work."He continued, holding the note between his fingers.

"I just... I just think that I'm dragging you down. You don't deserve that. You're a rockstar. I'm just a nobody." You sighed, averting your eyes to your hands.

"Why would you say that? You're not dragging me down, at all, darling. You're my entire world. How could you think anything different?" He was shocked and immediately came to sit beside you, holding your hand tightly.

"There was something in the newspaper about how .... how I was just a long term distraction and that you were young and deserved to be free.." You blurted and Roger's grip tightened.

"Darling, you know that they like spreading lies and rumours. You're in no way dragging me down. I promise. I love you so much, you know that." Roger insisted and you looked away.

"I love you too, Roggie. I have something to ask you, though." You were trembling now, hands shaking violently in Roger's grasp.

"So do I, love. You go first." Roger gave you a small, reassuring smile, kissing your hand softly.

"H-have you ever thought about kids, Rog? With me?" You couldn't focus your eyes on one spot, and Roger noticed. But his own eyes filled with hope.

"Of course I have. I have dreams about it, baby girl. A little boy or girl with rosy cheeks, blue eyes and (Y/H/C) hair." Roger chuckled, cupping your cheek.

"Roger, I'm preg-" Before you could finish your sentence, Roger brought you into a passionate kiss. He placed your joint hands onto your stomach. After a second, Roger pulled back, a grin on his face.

"That's the best news I've heard all year, my love." He pressed another kiss to your lips.

"Really?" You couldn't keep your eyes off him.

"Of course, baby. Now I have a question for you." He replied, letting go of your hand to pull the ring from his pocket. "You're the light of my life. I am a mess without you and I don't want to imagine another day without you. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" His eyes held so much love and you felt like you couldn't breathe. Tears sprung to your eyes once more, but this time, they weren't tears of sadness.

"Yes."

Want you to love me before you leave Let me hold you before you go Just remember the time we shared and remember you touched my soul We don't know where life will take us I'll hold my breath and be patient So won't you love me before you leave And let me hold you before you go

Tags: @writingfortoomanyfandoms @yourealegendfred @fierce-bab @dusthas-beenbitten@silvver-rose @benhardyjones @bensroger

[gwentoryfics]

Hot for Teacher, Part 2.

REPOSTED FROM MY ORIGINAL BLOG, GWENTORY.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Hongseok x Reader x Hyunggu (Kino)

Words | 12k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Swearing. Needlessly sexist and traditional parents. Plenty of angst to go around. Explicit smut. Fingering. Oral (female receiving). Playlist includes songs with explicit lyrics.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • More Coming Soon AO3 | 1 • 2

Playlist | Spotify • Youtube

Note | Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, my little peaches! Thank you for all of your kind words regarding this series, and thank you for your patience as I worked to put this together. Lots of life changes happened in the last few months, including moving to another state and adopting a pup (who is yet to be housebroken). I’ve been very busy, but I’m thrilled to finally update! Oh, and pro tip: I will only ever post fics & asks on this blog, so please feel free to turn on notifications to make sure you don’t miss Part 3!

On Monday night, you get to R&B Ensemble rehearsal ten minutes early to make sure you have time to warm up a bit on your own. A handful of students are already in the room, and you spot Kino chatting with a girl, whom you assume to be another vocalist. He waves as you walk by, and you wave back. Boy, he's got cheekbones for days.

Tucked back by the keyboard is the bassist with his long limbs and brooding aura, a face that is somewhat familiar to you - you can't quite place it, though. He has a sharp jawline and mussed up hair, a leather jacket thrown over the back of his chair. He fiddles with his amp before plucking out a funky bass groove, completely in his own world.

You walk in his direction, heading for the keyboard and shooting out a simple greeting as you take your seat. "Hey."

He glances up, nodding once in response before returning his attention to his instrument. He must not be much of a talker, which is fine by you. You flip on the keyboard and begin cycling through scales and modes to get your fingers warm, sure to keep the volume low so as not to disturb your new bandmates. As you move onto some arpeggiated jazz chords, you notice a tall, loud presence burst in through the door.

"Ayyyyy!" Wooseok Jung calls out, startling the poor girl that had entered right in front of him. He drops his headphones so they hang around his neck, and he chucks his drumsticks right past you, where one hits the sound-proofed wall and the other bounces off the bassist's chest with a dull thud.

"Damn it, Wooseok, you piece of shit." The bassist hurls the stick right back at him, and Wooseok catches it effortlessly.

"My man, Yuto. I didn't know you were in on this." Wooseok traipses over to your corner of the room, goofy grin on his face. He holds a fist out for you to pound. "Hey girl, what's up."

"Hey, good to see you." You bump fists. You had a class with Wooseok last year - first level aural skills - and although you wouldn't exactly call him a friend, it seems you both remember each other.

"Have a good summer?" He asks you as he takes a seat at the drum kit, sticks spinning between his fingers. You may never know how he fits all of that leg behind the drums.

You nod. "I worked all summer at the record store in my hometown, and that was a blast. Did a couple gigs at some open mics, too. You?"

"Ah, nice!" Wooseok clicks the sticks against the rim of the snare drum. Come to think of it, you haven't realized until today that he's a drummer. It makes sense, though, considering the fact that he was always tapping rhythms on the desk in your previous class. "I was up here taking summer classes. I tell you what, music theory is not my friend. I can't read clefs for shit. Give me the most intricate rhythms you can find and I can handle that, no problem. But give me a set of pitches and a marimba and I'm lost. I don't know how you do it."

You laugh with a short shrug, dramatically tossing your hair over your shoulder. "Just my natural talent, I guess."

A grin splits across Wooseok's face, cute and genuine. "Well aren't you a lucky little duck." The warmth of his smile makes you blush, and you have to look away from him.

He’s right, though; you definitely got lucky with your musical skills. Your parents started you in piano lessons at a young age, so you started reading music right around the same time you started reading words. It's second nature to you now.

A thought occurs to you, and you meet his eyes again. "You know, I could help you with theory if you want."

"Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Dude, you would be a lifesaver. That would be awesome." Wooseok breathes a sigh of relief. "And in exchange, I can… teach you about drumming or something, I don’t know. I’ll owe you. Whatever you want."

Sounds fair to you. You give him a sharp nod. "Deal."

"Deal," he agrees, shooting you another brief smile before turning to Yuto. “Yo, Yuto. Throw down a line. Let’s jam.”

"Throw down a line?" Yuto immediately questions Wooseok's choice of words, eyeing the drummer critically.

"Yeah, a bass line. Hit me with it."

"Who talks like that?" Yuto mumbles the question rhetorically and starts plucking out a groove. Once his rhythm and tempo is established, Wooseok comes in with a simple drumbeat to keep it moving.

You don't know much about bass, but you know the pitch of the strings and you understand that each fret marks a half step (thank you, music theory). It takes you a minute, but you’re able to determine that he's in the key of D. You start plunking out some chords until you fall into the pocket of the groove, finally finding the correct chord progression.

"What key?" A girl on the other side of the room asks, slipping the strap of her electric guitar over her shoulder.

You start calling out chord names as you work through the progression until it seems she's got the hang of it, and then you improvise, letting your fingers follow the melodies in your head.

This is it. This is your absolute most favorite thing in the whole world. Surrounding yourself in music, collaborating and creating, expressing your spirit through the piano- er, keyboard. Riding the waves of jazz and soul and R&B gives joy to your life in a way that nothing else can. This feeling is what you live for.

Mid-jam, the teacher comes strolling in, and she grooves the whole way from the door to the front of the room, looking absolutely elated at the impromptu music you’ve all created. Wooseok calls out a five, six, seven, and... to signal everyone to stop at the end of the phrase, and the teacher claps a little too enthusiastically.

"Oh. My goodness." She beams. "I think this is going to be a fabulous semester."

After rehearsal, you catch up to Kino as he tucks his sheet music into his backpack. The long hair on top of his head falls in his eyes, but it could never hide those cheekbones.

"I had no idea you could sing like that. That Bruno song is perfect for you!" You stand next to him, and he looks up from his seat with a wide smile. You mean every word; his voice absolutely blew you away. He especially stands out in the group because he's the only male vocalist this semester, but there's something special about the quality of his voice that gives you goosebumps when he sings.

"Thank you! I'm really excited about it. I love Bruno Mars." He grins, glowing. "And what about you? It's like the keys are part of your soul. You're really freaking good, you know that?"

"Thank you, Hyunggu." You emphasize his birth name, which the teacher had brought to your attention during roll call.

Kino rolls his eyes, smile suddenly gone from his lips. "I don't like that name."

"Sorry," you laugh quietly. "Why Kino, then? If you don't mind me asking."

"I picked it for myself. It's like... a stage name." He stands, gathering his things. "I kind of wanted a fresh start for college, so I'm reinventing myself, I guess."

"I can respect that." As the two of you head for the door, you turn back over your shoulder and call out to the friendly giant to confirm the plans you had made. "Wooseok, see you Thursday, yeah?"

The tall drummer points his sticks at you, shooting another charming smile your way. "Thursday."

When you're out of the room, Kino asks, "Are you friends with him?"

"Not exactly? I'm going to tutor him in music theory."

Kino hums quietly. "He seems like a handful."

"He does, doesn't he," you laugh. "We'll see how it goes."

The two of you wave goodnight to the security guard in the lobby of the music building before heading out into the illuminated city. A slow smile touches your lips as you look around.

Moving here for university has been one of the biggest adventures of your life. Up until you began school last year, you had never spent much time in such a large city. It’s clear to you now that this is where you’re meant to be; the city energizes you, awakens your senses, and opens up creative doorways you never realized existed. You’ve never felt so true to yourself, so connected to your surroundings.

Everything here had been so perfect until Professor Yang showed up. You feel your smile fade. If he taught at literally any other university, it would be no problem at all. You could look back fondly on your night together instead of labeling it The Biggest Mistake Of Your Life.

There’s really no point in getting worked up about it, though. Maybe it won’t be a big deal after all. Maybe you’ll talk to him tomorrow, just like Minseo wants you to, and it’ll all be fine. Or you could just ignore each other the whole semester - that might work. You’ll just silently drool over him from your spot at the back of the classroom, trying not to be distracted by the naked memory of him while you take notes. If only he hadn’t been your professor…

If you had crossed paths again under any other circumstances, you would undoubtedly chase down the chance to sleep with him again. Although you are skeptical of your ability to seduce him while sober, you want nothing more than to relive that night with him over and over. Hell, you might even go on a proper date with him, if he asked you.

The thought makes your cheeks burn. You’ve got it bad.

In the end, it’s all just a fantasy. You’ll never sleep with him again, you’ll never go on a date. He’s your professor, and you are his student. Even if you weren’t taking his class, it would be inappropriate to be involved in any sort of romantic capacity. There’s no way that you can be together, and that’s that.

You hate that you actually feel sad about it.

“Whoa!” Kino’s hand grabs your elbow, yanking you back onto the sidewalk as you start to cross the street, too distracted to notice the oncoming traffic. “Be careful!”

You’re snapped back into the present, watching as a taxi flies by. It would have easily taken you out if you had continued walking. You really need to stop thinking about Professor Yang before you get yourself hurt.

“Are you alright?” Kino’s voice is tight with concern as he holds onto your arm.

You force your smile. “Yeah, sorry. I was just in my head about some things. I promise I’m not usually so distracted while walking.”

His hand lingers on your arm for a moment as he scans your face, and the corner of his mouth lifts as he lets you go. “I sure hope you’re not or you’re going to be in trouble without me around.”

The light changes, and you both safely step into the crosswalk. “But you know, if I got hit by a car, I could probably sue for enough money to cover my student loans,” you joke.

“Only if the driver is at fault,” Kino is quick to correct you. “If you’re the one that causes the accident, you can’t get any money from it. But nice try.”

“Damn. There’s never an easy solution.”

“Truth.” He chuckles. “Maybe we should have gone to business school or medical school to get a degree that would actually give us financial security.”

With a groan, you roll your eyes. That sentiment is all too familiar. “You sound like my parents.”

“Mine, too.” Kino sighed. “They wanted me to be a doctor. Yours?”

“Secretary to a CEO. What kind of sexist bullshit is that?” You frown. “My family is very traditional in the sense that they believe men should be in charge, whether it’s in business or in the family. Women are just there to assist.”

“Wow. That’s unbelievable.” Kino turns to you as you wait to cross another street. “I mean, you don’t seem like you would want to be a CEO, considering your obvious passion for music, but I think you’re definitely capable if you worked for it.”

His sincere encouragement brings a genuine smile to your face. “Thanks, Kino. That really means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome.” His cheekbones pop out as he grins. “I’m sure your parents will come around eventually.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I mean, the whole secretary thing was already an improvement from their original wish for me.”

“Which was…?”

“Farmer’s wife.”

“What?” Kino burst into laughter. “That’s impossible to imagine.”

“Well I grew up on a farm, so it’s not that big of a stretch.”

“Really?”

You nod, safely crossing the street as the light changes. “Yeah. I’m from a really small town a few hours south of here. My family runs a wheat farm. My mom taught me how to cook and sew and everything, as if we were living in the nineteen-fifties. They didn’t even want me to get a degree at first because they thought it was unnecessary.”

“So how did you end up here?”

“I begged and pleaded until they finally caved. I asked for a chance to pursue something I really love. This is my one shot, so I really have to give it my all. I don’t think they’ll give me another chance. If I screw this up, they’ll probably try to marry me off to the neighbor boy or something.”

“We can’t have that.” Kino’s sweet smile radiates as he looks over at you. “I’m rooting for you, _____.”

Your chest fills with warmth. You’re so thankful to have made friends at school that are supportive of your dreams, and you’re glad to find that same support in Kino. “And I for you.”

Together, you veer off to the left, away from the glittering skyline of the city. You ask, “So where are you from? Is your family nearby?”

“Very near, actually.” He gestures vaguely south. “I grew up on the south side.”

"Ah." You hide your frown, but your curt response gives you away. You've heard all kinds of rotten things about the gang-related violence of the south side, and you can't imagine someone like Kino surviving in that kind of environment.

"It's not as terrible and dangerous as you probably think. It's got a bad reputation, but it's not all rotten."

You just nod. "So, wait, do you still live there? Aren't you headed the wrong way?"

With a shake of his head, he replies, "No, I'm living on campus, at Plymouth. Part of my whole fresh start, you know? Had to get out of the house and experience living on my own for a while."

Plymouth is across the street from your own dorm. "I'm at Turner!"

“We’re basically neighbors,” Kino comments.

As your buildings start to come into view, you realize how close they actually are. And how your room actually has a very direct view of Plymouth.

“Please tell me you don’t live on the east side of the building.”

“I do, actually. Why?”

You laugh. “I’m going to have to start closing my blinds whenever I get dressed.”

His eyes grow wide. “Have you been giving my whole dorm a peep show for the last week?”

“Maybe?” You cover your face with your hands as you continue to laugh, embarrassed. This summer’s sexual awakening may have persuaded you to live a bit more adventurously… Is Kino blushing?

“Don’t worry, I never noticed.” He spoke softly. “So don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” you murmur with a quiet chuckle, surprised that you’re not terribly concerned with what he may or may not have seen so far. You turn the corner, headed for the entrance to Turner Hall, and Kino keeps up with you.

"Oh, hey, I was wondering..." He starts, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. "Since we're in a lot of classes together this semester, maybe we could swap phone numbers? You know, in case either of us wants help with homework, or is going to miss class or something."

"Good idea!" You agree, pulling up in front of the building's entrance. You fish your own phone from your backpack and bring up the 'New Contact' screen before swapping phones with him. Once you've traded numbers, you pocket your phone. "Well, city boy, I'm gonna head inside now. I'll see you later?"

He nods, waving as he backs away. "See you, farm girl."

You watch as he crosses the street, heading for Plymouth. Something about him makes you feel at ease, and you have a feeling you'll end up spending quite a bit of time getting to know him this semester. With all of the classes you share, you're going to see him nearly every day of the week, and he seems pretty eager to be your friend. You wouldn't mind that.

Turning to head inside, you fish your room key out of your wallet, swiping it at the security desk as you pass by. As you call the elevator, a familiar dark figure appears in your peripheral.

You turn to greet him as the elevator door opens. "Hey, Yuto."

He nods silently, and you both file into the elevator.

"I didn't realize we live in the same building."  You press floor nine and wait for him to make his selection, but he doesn't budge. "...Or the same floor?"

"Small world," he murmurs quietly, seemingly unfazed.

An uncomfortably awkward silence fills the small elevator, and you absentmindedly toy with the strap of your backpack as you search for something to talk about. "Are you excited about our set list?"

He shrugs so minutely you hardly even notice. "We've got some good music."

It doesn't really seem like he wants to talk to you, and you're not one to push him into a conversation, even though it's painfully awkward. You just hum quietly and let it be.

The door glides open, and you both head left down the hallway. He stops at the door directly across the hall from yours. Without a word, he disappears into his room.

How neighborly.

"Minseo, I'm freaking out." You paced in the small hotel room you had both chipped in on, just a floor above your destination for the night. "Am I seriously going to do this?"

"Relax, would you?" She sat calmly atop the queen sized bed, watching as you almost lost your balance from turning too quickly. "It's not like this is your first time."

"But it's my first time with a random guy. Can I even do that?" You froze in place. "Am I even allowed to do that?"

"_____! Of course you're allowed! You're an adult!" Minseo sprung up from the bed and grabbed you by the shoulders. "There is nothing wrong with you going downstairs and sleeping with a man you just met. If that's something you want to do, then I fully support it. You should let yourself have some fun."

You let out a small, frustrated whine. "I want to. Sweet baby Jesus, I want to."

Her hands moved up to cup your face. "Okay. You're gonna be fine."

Nodding, you exhaled slowly. "I'm an adult. I can do this."

"Yes! That's the spirit." She patted your cheeks before turning you around and walking you towards the bathroom. "Now go jump in the shower."

"Shower?"

"You don't want to show up all sweaty, do you?"

"Am I sweaty?"

"Go freshen up." She pushed you into the small bathroom. "But don't get your hair wet. Just make sure you're clean down there."

Your eyes widened and you realized she was right - it wasn't a bad idea to shower for the sake of below-the-belt cleanliness. "Okay."

"Good girl. Try not to fall over in there." Minseo encouraged you as she shut the door.

Five minutes and one off-key ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ shower concert later, you emerged from the bathroom a new woman. You felt as fresh as you smelled, and the steam from the shower had helped clear your mind a bit - but not everything was perfect.

Wrapped in a towel, you held your dress and underwear in your hand, and a pout crept onto your face. "Minseooooooo."

"What's wrong, dear?"

"I'm clean, but my clothes aren't."

She pried her eyes from the television, which was playing some trashy reality show, and she gestured for you to come towards her. "Let me see the dress." You handed it to her and she looked it over, sniffing it here and there. "I mean, it's not like dry-cleaners fresh, but it doesn't reek. There's not much you can do about that anyway, since we obviously didn't pack a change of clothes."

You pursed your lips. "I guess you're right."

"Nix the underwear, though."

"What?" Your cheeks flamed. "No underwear?"

"You heard me." She plucked the panties from your hand and tossed them over her shoulder into the corner of the room. "You'll feel gross putting dirty underwear on after you've showered, right? And besides, he'll think it's super hot that you're commando."

"Or he'll think I'm a slut. What if he likes nice girls that enjoy wearing underwear? Hm?"

"Honey, he wouldn't have invited you to his room if he wanted a nice girl who likes underwear." Minseo took your hand affectionately. "It’s okay to be slutty."

You furrowed your brow at her for a moment before a sly smile touched your lips and you let out a small giggle. "Am I turning into a slut?"

"Only if you want to, dear."

"I might want to. I might want to be a slut for Hongseok." You burst into a ball of laughter, absolutely giddy.

"Alright." Minseo laughed too, handing you back your dress. "Put this back on and get ready to slut it up."

By the time you and Shinhye enter the science building on Tuesday morning, you've almost entirely rid yourself of the dread gurgling low in your gut at the thought of seeing him. You tell yourself that it's just another class, he's just another teacher, and you will survive this. Sipping at the coffee Shinhye insisted on stopping for, you do your best to keep a level head.

Minseo’s advice rings in your ears. Tell him that you’re not going to say anything about what happened. Tell him that you want him to treat you normally. That’s what you want, right?

When you had called her last week, she had easily convinced you that talking to him about the whole situation would be a good idea. But now that the day of confrontation has arrived, you’re simply too chicken to even consider saying a word. Besides, you weren't entirely sure how coherently you'd be able to talk to him while sober, given the fact that you still swoon a little every time you look at him.

When you step into the classroom, you hardly glance in Professor Yang's direction. He's seated at the desk, typing away on his laptop. You focus on your seat at the back of the room, preparing for another few hours of being ignored, but before you can make it too far you hear him call your name.

"_____."

The sound sends a delicious ripple through your limbs, and you turn your head at a sloth's pace, afraid to make eye contact. He casually waves you over to his desk, as if it's no big deal that he just acknowledged you and that he wants you to come over so you can presumably talk one on one.

Shinhye continues on to her seat after giving you a curious look, and you turn back, making your way over to Professor Yang. He's fixated on his computer as you walk over, but he glances up at you ever so briefly when you reach his desk.

His voice is low as he acknowledges you. "Stop by my office after class. I think we need to talk."

A lump fills your throat and you're unable to speak. You really aren’t able to avoid it after all.

He peeks up at you again, probably curious because of your lack of verbal response, so you nod. He picks up a stack of papers and hands them to you. "Please pass these out to your classmates."

You take the packets - it's today's lab paperwork. He gestures to the rest of the class as if to say well, go on then, and you frown. You don't expect him to be friendly with you, but frankly he's coming across kind of rude and bossy, and that doesn't sit well with you. Begrudgingly, you do as he asks and distribute the packets.

When you return to your seat, Shinhye is quick to ask, "What was that about?"

"He just wanted help passing stuff out." Not totally a lie.

"I didn't realize you were such a teacher's pet," she teases.

"I'm not a teacher's pet. He asked me, so what could I do? It's not like I begged him to let me help."

"Whoa, relax. It's just a joke." Shinhye chuckled, adjusting the circular frames that rest on her nose. "It's not like you to be so uptight."

You take a deep breath, getting your head on straight. You need to be normal around Shinhye. With a plastered on smirk, you tease back. "That's your job, right?"

Shinhye purses her lips, but you can see the smile in her eyes. You laugh.

"Aw, come on, I love youuuuu."

"Yeah, yeah," she brushes off your affections, pushing you away when you lean in to coo over her. "Love you, too."

You smile. You may have to keep her in the dark, but her friendship will surely be one of the only things that can keep you sane through the rest of the semester.

It took a solid five minutes of pacing in front of his hotel room door before you finally worked up the courage to knock. Your stomach twisted in knots as you rapped your knuckles against the wood, checking for the thousandth time that the little door number definitely said 417.

You were really doing it. You were really getting ready to probably sleep with someone you just met. You had never done anything like that before, but it was about time you grew up and had a sense of adventure, right?

Any semblance of confidence you had slowly started to fade as you realized the door was not opening. Had you waited too long to come over? Was he already asleep? Were you at the wrong room altogether? Had he intentionally given you the wrong number? Why would he do that?

You tried knocking once more, but still no one answered. Disappointment swelled in your chest, tugging at your heart - you were surprised by how much you cared. He was just some guy, anyway. But it hurt to think that you may have just been rejected. After all, the fear of rejection had kept you from approaching him in the first place.

After another minute of waiting, you decided that you needed to move on. He wasn't going to answer the door. You headed for the stairwell, resigning yourself to a night with Minseo instead.

As you reached for the door to the stairs, the elevator next to you opened and a loud group of people spilled out. You assumed they were all coming up from the wedding, judging by their attire. And to your delight, one of the last people off the elevator was exactly the gorgeous man you had been waiting for.

You met Hongseok's eyes, a slow smile stretching across your lips. Perhaps not all hope for the night was lost.

He slid his hands into his pockets with a coy smile, his tux jacket draped over his arm. "Going somewhere?"

"I thought you gave me a phony room number," you confessed, tongue lazily forming the words. Wow, you definitely drank more than you should have.

"I would have to be crazy to do that to you." His gaze traveled down your figure, lingering on the hand that gripped the door handle. "Still want to come over?"

Nodding, you tried your best to contain your nervousness and look cool as you released the handle, letting the door close quietly.

He cocked his head in the direction of his room, a relaxed smirk on his lips. "Let's go, then."

You followed him back to room 417, and he opened the door, stepping aside to let you in first. Despite the wave of nervousness that washed over you, you felt ready. Eager, even. You let your hand casually brush against his leg as you slip into the room, desperate to touch him again.

His hand darted out to capture yours - rough skin but a gentle touch. Your feet froze and you turned back to meet his piercing gaze, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest as the door closed behind him.

What should you do? How did hook-ups usually work? Chat first and then work your way up to the main event, or just dive in head first? You were clueless. You knew that you wanted to rip that damn shirt off of him, to press yourself against him and get lost in the feel of his skin. But you didn't want to be too forward and make things uncomfortable.

Taking his time, Hongseok approached you slowly, smoothing your hair and lifting your chin with his knuckle, fingers still wrapped around your wrist. Heat blossomed in your core as you looked up at him, thinking he might just go for it and kiss you. Maybe he was as impatient as you felt. Maybe he needed to have you, too.

He leaned in, but he didn't aim for your lips. He targeted your ear, murmuring softly and tickling you with his breath. "You're cute."

Warmth spread rapidly across your cheeks and you quietly stuttered, "Th-thank you."

But it was just a tease, hardly even a taste of how it felt to be close to him. He backed away, pulling you a bit deeper into the room before releasing your hand. "Mind if I play some music?"

You shook your head carefully, resisting the urge to take his hand back. "Not at all."

As he fished out his cell phone and plugged it into the speakers that sat on the desk, you looked around the room and took a seat at the edge of the bed. It wasn't a particularly fancy hotel, so the room was pretty basic. Just a standard queen size hotel bed, a dresser, TV, and a nightstand on either side of the bed - pretty much identical to the room you and Minseo reserved upstairs. An open gym bag sat on the floor, which you assumed he was using for his overnight stay.

"You said you like Marvin Gaye, right?" He typed into his phone, smiling to himself.

His song selection started playing, and you immediately recognized the first few notes as the opening to ‘Let's Get It On’. You couldn't help but laugh because of the cheesy song choice, hoping that he wasn't seriously trying to set the mood with that one. "Really? 'Let's Get It On'?"

He laughed at your critical reaction, sweet eyes crinkling at the corners. "Too forward?"

"You think?" You kicked your legs, too short to reach the floor from where you sat. "Try again."

"I'll admit, my knowledge of old school R&B is not what it should be. I'm more of an old rock fan." He scrolled through his phone in search of a better song choice.

You jumped up from the bed and strolled over to him, accidentally bumping against his arm as you plucked the phone from his hands. He felt warm and he smelled delicious, so you didn't make an effort to move away. Your brain was too fuzzy to care about personal space.

"Let me play you something. If you want sexy music, I know sexy music," you drawled, searching for the specific track that you had in mind. Hongseok slid his hands into his pockets, letting you do as you pleased. He didn't back away either, so you assumed he didn't mind the close proximity.

Finally, you found the song despite the many typos in your search: 'Tell Me Something Good' by Rufus, featuring Chaka Khan. You played it, and your hips instinctively started rolling when the funk guitar started. "Usually people think of R&B as being the sexiest music, but funk is highly overlooked and underrated."

When the vocals came in, you held his phone up to your mouth like a microphone and sang along, backing away from him to roll your body and put on a show. It briefly crossed your mind that you would never normally act that way. That was exactly the type of idiocy you were trying to avoid by dodging Hongseok earlier in the night. But at the end of the day you loved yourself some karaoke when you were drunk. You couldn't help but sing along, even if you sounded terrible.

"Hey!" Hongseok called after you with a chuckle, reaching for his phone as you danced away from him. He successfully grabbed it from you, preventing you from disconnecting it from the aux cord.

Never mind the lack of microphone; it just freed up your hands to run down your body, over your curves as you sang. "You refuse to put anything before your pride / What I got will knock all your pride aside..."

He watched you intently, a slight smirk on his lips. Maybe you didn't look as ridiculous as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just drunk enough to be into it.

You reached for his tie, pulling him towards you as you kept singing. "Tell me something good / Tell me that you love me, yeah..."

"But I hardly know you," he remarked, hands finding your hips.

With a fluttering of your eyelashes, you responded teasingly, "Oh, you don't believe in love at first sight?"

"I do," he smiled down at you, thumbs digging into your hips. "But only because I saw the way you looked at me and I knew you had fallen head over heels."

"Cocky piece of shit," you laughed, throwing your arms over Hongseok's shoulders as you danced together. "The thing is, though, you're not exactly wrong. I mean, you got me to show up here, which would have been impossible for anyone else."

"And I didn't even have to try. Look at you," Hongseok scanned your face, and you knew you must have looked like a girl in love. He was beautiful and you couldn't help your adoration. "You're in deep."

You let out a dramatic sigh. "What ever shall we do? I'm a lost cause."

"You may not be the only one."

There was something unbearably warm in his eyes as he said it, and it made your pulse race. He obviously didn't mean it; he's no more in love with you than you are with him. It was impossible that either one of you felt love for the other. It could only be blamed on lust, an inexplicable attraction between the two of you that left you weak in the knees with craving. But even so, it was fun to play pretend.

His breath gently rippled across your face. "You know, I was actually surprised to see you when I got off the elevator."

"Really?”

"It just seemed like you might talk yourself out of it."

"Well, I did. That's why I was at the stairwell," you admitted with a laugh.

Hongseok’s hands wandered over your ribs and across your back as he pulled you in closer. "Because you didn't want to see me?"

"Because you weren't there." You felt your cheeks growing warm, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. "I was disappointed because I thought I wouldn't get to, you know, see you tonight. But I wanted to. Want to," you corrected yourself. "I do."

"I promise," he murmured, lips curling into a mischievous smile, "you won't regret it."

After class, you make an excuse to Shinhye about how you need to visit with an advisor in the building so that she would leave without you. She is completely unassuming as she accepts your excuse, and you feel a pang of guilt for lying to her. You'll make it up to her soon; you promise that much to yourself.

You easily locate Professor Yang's office, and you're surprised that you feel the familiar nervous butterflies in your stomach as you knock on the wooden door. It's so similar to the night you spent with him, even though now you're meeting under completely different circumstances.

But just like that night, the door doesn't open, and you have to wait for him to show. You lean against the wall, trying to steady your breathing and calm your racing heart. There's nothing for you to even be antsy about; you're just anxious about what he'll have to say. He'll probably just tell you exactly what you want to tell him - that you should both pretend nothing happened, and carry on as usual. Fingers crossed that you'll both be on the same page and there won't be much discussion.

As you stand there waiting, you start to ponder other possibilities. Surely he's not going to make some sort of proposition? What if he wants to sleep with you again, but this time with the risk of getting caught? He did ask you to meet him in his very private office… maybe he didn’t intend to talk at all.

He’d unlock the door and let you inside, casual as could be. But as soon as the door would shut, he’d grab you by the hand and throw you back against it, trapping you between the wood and his heat. His lips would crash into yours as if he has hungered for you since that night, his hands rushing to feel the skin that hides beneath your clothes. You’d wrap a leg around his hip, desperate to feel the friction of his bulge against your core.

You’d beg him to take you then and there: against the door, on his desk, down on the floor. As long as you could have him again, that’s all that would matter.

The thought of it makes your heart race and your mouth dry up, but you squash the fantasy before you can convince yourself that it’s a good idea. As exciting as it may be to think about, you know better this time. You're not going to sleep with him again. And if he has any sense, he'll stay the hell away from you.

Professor Yang eventually appears in the hallway, and you stand up a little straighter, hyper-aware of every inch of space between the two of you. He looked great, of course, with his collared shirt that had a single button undone at his throat and his hair swept up to the side. But you will not sleep with him.

He barely even greets you before unlocking the door and heading in first. You follow him, and he instructs you to close the door behind you. He doesn’t turn to you, doesn’t grab you or kiss you. That’s a good thing. That’s for the best.

You take a seat across from him at his desk. His office is small and scarcely decorated, with only an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner of the room. The deep mahogany finish is gorgeous, and you wonder if it’s an instrument that Professor Yang made by hand.

He relaxes back into his chair, hand covering his mouth as he looks at you. And he really looks at you, long and hard, as though he's trying to peer deep into your heart. It's incredibly nerve-wracking to be looked at in such a scrutinizing way, especially considering that he's hardly even glanced at you until now.

"What are the odds..." He mumbles quietly.

You realize that he still hasn't quite accepted the situation the two of you are in, and that makes you feel a little less alone. "I had no idea this would happen."

A line forms between his eyebrows, hand falling from his mouth. "You want me to believe that?"

You give him a similarly cynical look. "Excuse me?"

He sits up, anger evident in his piercing gaze. "You must have known! So why did you do it? Because you thought I'd give you a better grade this semester? That I'd be easier on you?"

Taken aback by his accusations, your jaw drops. "What? That's ridiculous! I would never-"

"Please, don't try to act all innocent. I can see right through it."

"I didn't know! How could-"

"Come on. You don't recognize me from any of last year's convocations? You had to have been there to hear me introduce my class."

Who the hell does this guy think he is? To sit there and accuse you of something so... so slimy and then refuse to hear you out! You won't stand for it, even if his commanding tone does send a shock of tingling adrenaline straight to your core.

He may still be the most attractive man you've ever seen, and you may still be feeling flustered by being in the same room as him... but regardless of those things, you can't let him walk all over you like this. He could do whatever he wanted to you at the hotel, but not here. This is real life, not a one night stand.

Every ounce of shyness within you disintegrates as you grit your teeth, preparing to defend yourself. "I am not that kind of girl. I am an intelligent and hard-working student, and I would never do something so disgusting.”

He starts to say something, and you rise to your feet, not yet finished. “Don't interrupt me again. I never saw you at last year’s convocations because I had to miss almost all of them for personal reasons. Those absences were all approved by the music office, if you feel so inclined to verify with them. And I don't know what on Earth makes you think this is all something that I set up - if you'll remember, I very clearly did my best to avoid you at the wedding. You were the one that approached me, not the other way around. Don't get that skewed. This is all your doing."

Professor Yang doesn't look too eager to ease up. "You were playing hard to get."

"I was trying to keep my sanity!" You lean over his desk, infuriated by the argument. "I couldn't think straight around you, you're so fucking attractive, Jesus Christ."

You cringe when you realize you've lost your filter. You did not mean to say that- not out loud, not to him.

He just sits there, quietly watching you with that same empty expression you've seen from him all week. He clenches his fist tightly around a pen, and you feel yourself deflate the longer he looks at you. But you don't sit down, telling yourself to stay strong and stand your ground.

Eventually he speaks up, and his voice is even as he says, "I think it would be best for you to drop my class."

"No."

"I urge you to reconsider."

"Absolutely not." You feel a surge of pride in yourself for standing up to him. "This is not how you do your job, Professor. You don't get to bully me out of your class just because you don't want me there. I signed up for your class and I intend to see it through to the end. And if you treat me unfairly, I will report you."

"You won't," he answers calmly, coolly challenging you.

He's right, it's an empty threat. But you stick to it. "Yes, I will."

Professor Yang sighs exasperatedly. "You won't, because if you report me for unfair treatment, then we'll both be placed under a microscope. Someone will find out about what happened between us this summer, and we'll both get in trouble. I'll lose my job and you'll be expelled."

You'll be expelled? That's news to you. The reality of the situation hits you like a punch to the gut. You can't afford to lose your status as a student here; your parents would never forgive you. They already aren't too happy about the fact that you're pursuing a degree in music. If you screw yourself over by getting expelled, that’s the end of the line for you.

He continues. "So don't think that you can blackmail me into boosting your grade or giving you special treatment, because I'm not the only one that will face severe consequences. Get that idea out of your head right now. You can't threaten me like that. Oh, and don't even think that I'll boost your grade in exchange for sexual favors. That is not going to work on me."

Your jaw drops. "Oh my God, are you even listening to me? Who do you think I am? Seriously! I'm not going to try to sleep with you for extra credit. I'm an honest student."

"I'm only covering our bases to let you know what is unacceptable." He picks at the stem of the pen’s cap, lifting it with his thumb and releasing so that it clicks in a steady rhythm that is nothing short of irritating.

“Well this could go both ways, couldn’t it?” You cross your arms over your chest. "What's going to stop you from pursuing me? What's going to keep you from lowering my grade if I refuse your advances?"

"What even makes you think I would pursue you?" He says it like he wants his words to hurt you, as if he's trying to make you feel that you're not worthy of his attention. But it's pointless; his actions have already proven otherwise.

You are so gorgeous that I might actually believe in love at first sight.

He had said that to you. It was a baseless, drunken confession, but the fact remains that he has been attracted to you once and he could be attracted to you still.

Let's be drunk and in love, then.

You had said all sorts of embarrassing things to each other, and your cheeks burn as you remember. You shift your weight, scanning his face as you force yourself to respond. "It wouldn't be the first time. And from what I remember, you enjoyed yourself an awful lot that night."

It's a long, quiet moment. You can practically see that night replaying in his mind, seductive images of you flashing in his eyes. It doesn't make you uncomfortable to know he's probably remembering every curve of your naked body; it boosts your confidence that he's been momentarily flustered by the memory of you.

The pen in his death grip falls to his desk, and he folds his hands in his lap, looking haggard. "If you choose to stay in the class, I promise that I will treat you fairly and I will not make any advances towards you. I promise that you will finish the class with an unbiased grade. However, I think you should seriously consider dropping the class, for both your sanity and mine."

For both your sanity and mine.

You can't quite tell what he means by that. Does he expect you'll continue to be at each others' throats for the rest of the semester? Or on the contrary, is he saying it might be difficult to refuse the temptation of each other if you're forced into the same classroom once a week?

Regardless of the truth behind his words, you're unwilling to budge on the matter. You calmly return to your seat, collecting your thoughts. "All due respect, but I really don't want to drop. I have a very genuine interest in your class, and I've been looking forward to it since I signed up. I don't want to sacrifice my education because of this."

"Then I will remind you that you have another two weeks to withdraw if you change your mind, and I won't bring it up again."

You both fall quiet, and you hate the feeling of regret bubbling in your stomach. You shouldn't have slept with him. You knew it was a bad idea but you went and did it anyway. And what makes it even worse is that now one of the best nights of your life is colored with regret. You want to remember that feeling of being so alive without immediately hating yourself for your poor decision making skills.

He pulls you out of your puddle of self-loathing as he asks, "Have you told anybody about this?"

You shake your head, but realize immediately that you're wrong. "Actually, my cousin knows. The one at the wedding that sort of instigated this whole thing."

"Expected. But you haven't said anything to anyone about the current situation?"

You take a deep breath. "I called that same cousin a few days ago. She knows you're my professor and everything. I just had to say something, I was going crazy."

"Is she a student here too?"

"No, she's not."

"Okay. You can't tell anyone else though, understood?"

You frown, a crease forming between your brows. "I won't, jeez. You're acting like you're the only one that has something to lose. I'm not out to get you. I'm scared, too."

He rubs his temple. "I'm sorry. I just want to make sure we're protecting ourselves."

Your ears perk up at the word sorry. So he is capable of apologizing! "An apology for earlier would be nice, too," you grumble.

"For what, exactly?"

You frown. "For falsely accusing me of setting this up."

"I don’t know for sure that those accusations are false."

"You're kidding." Your blood boils. You had no idea that you've spent all this time fawning over such a prick. "Why don't you believe me?"

"That doesn't really matter, does it? What matters is that it doesn't happen again. Understood?" He easily evades your question, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

"Rest assured, you are safe from my relentless pursuit." You roll your eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm, and you grab your bag, ready to leave. There’s nothing else that can be done here. "I'll do my best not to unintentionally seduce you, you poor helpless thing."

"You don't have to be childish."

"You don't have to be a dick, but here we are." You resist the urge to kick his desk. You can't remember the last time you felt so frustrated. You stare each other down until you finally break away from him, turning to head for the door. Clearly he's not going to apologize, so there's no point to sticking around any longer.

"Wait, _____. One more thing."

You hate the way your whole body electrifies at the sound of your name. Screw him and the way his perfect mouth forms the damned syllables.

"I hate to ask, and maybe I don't even want to know... but how old are you?"

Frowning, you answer. "Nineteen. Turning twenty in like, two months."

"Nineteen?!"

You grip the door handle and look over your shoulder at him. "Yeah, nineteen."

"Oh my God, you're a baby." He drags his hands down his face. "Nineteen? Really?"

You ignore his baby comment; making a fuss over it would only prove his point. "How old did you think I was?"

"At least twenty-two or twenty-three. I mean, Christ, you were drinking at the wedding. I didn't realize you were underage."

"Don't say that I'm underage, that makes it sound like you screwed a teenager."

"Well technically I did. Nineteen. God dammit, shit..."

You crinkle your nose, realizing that you never really considered the age gap between the two of you. "And how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-six."

Seven years. He's seven years older than you. That's kind of a lot. "Like... just turned twenty-six?"

He nods, speechless for once, like his voice just gave up. So, closer to six-ish years. That's not... awful...

"For what it's worth, I didn't realize that I was screwing a senior citizen so-"

"Don't." He cuts you off, raising his hand in warning. "Don't do that. Don't start getting sassy, don't start joking around with me. Just don't."

Another sassy remark is readied at the tip of your tongue, but you hold back when you notice that he almost looks pained. Why does he look pained?

You let it go and turn the knob, yanking the door open. "I'll see you next week, then."

He nods, unwilling to meet your eyes, and you close the door behind you.

You stomp the whole way down State Street to the music building, steam shooting from your ears after your 'meeting' with Professor Yang.

Curse him and his stupid asshat attitude. Screw him for being devilishly handsome and for being the world's biggest dick. How could you have slept with someone like him? How could you let yourself get into this mess?

You get to the main office on the third floor, and the reception desk is regrettably empty. You peek around for a student worker, but there is no one to be found. Even the doors to the professors’ offices are closed, implying that they are away or otherwise unavailable.

Huffing, you grab a pen from the cup on the reception desk and scribble a message onto the notepad sitting there. You explain in perhaps too-colorful language that you are in desperate need of photocopies of your approved excuse cards from last spring’s convocations, and you leave your cell phone number so that you can be contacted when said photocopies are available.

The anger that clouds the corners of your vision starts to dissipate as you tuck the note under the computer mouse for the student worker to find later. You're frustrated by everything Professor Yang has said to you, and you're frustrated by the fact that even what you believe to be an easy fix is not instantaneously possible. If you can just get the damned excuse cards to him, then he would have to believe you when you say you're clueless. Right? He'd probably never admit it, but you just need to know that he knows that you're telling the truth. You can't stand being called a liar.

You pull the cell phone out of your backpack as you trudge towards the stairs. What you really need right now is to hang out with someone and distract yourself from the bullshit with Professor Dickface. You want to call Shinhye, but you know that she'll be on her way to her next class shortly. And then you think of Kino, whose phone number you snagged after rehearsal yesterday. Maybe you should see what he's up to.

You call him, only momentarily thinking it might be weird to call instead of texting. But before you have a chance to second guess, he picks up.

"Farm girl! Hi." You can barely hear him over the rush of wind, but the nickname makes you smile.

"Hey. You busy?"

"Not exactly. Why?"

"I just need to get my mind off of something and I was wondering if you might want to hang out."

"Sure! Where are you?"

"Music building. You?"

"On my way there, actually. I was going to snag a practice room to start working on some stuff for R&B ensemble. Do you want to practice with me?"

You smile, releasing a careful sigh. "Yeah, let's do that."

As you step down the last stretch of stairs, you see Kino coming through the revolving door, his hair a mess from the wind. He spots you and waves, ending the call and pocketing his phone. He meets you at the stairwell. "Hey."

"Hey." You point upstairs. "Shall we?"

Together, you head back up and wind down a hallway to find an empty practice room. Thankfully you snag one with a baby grand instead of one of the dinky upright pianos.

"So, something's bothering you?" Kino inquires, dropping his backpack onto a chair and rifling through it in search of his music.

"Yeah, but I don't really want to talk about it, if that's alright." Well, it's not that you don't want to talk about it, it's just that you can't. Well, shouldn't. Won't.

"I hear you loud and clear. We'll just make some music, and if that doesn't help you feel better, we'll go get milkshakes or something. Milkshakes make everything better." He raises his eyebrows at you as he sets his music on a stand.

You nod, sliding onto the piano bench. "That sounds great. Maybe we should get milkshakes regardless."

"Honestly, I am one-hundred percent down for a milkshake. Have you been to the ice cream shop down on Thirteenth?" He groans when you shake your head. "Okay, then it's a done deal. We have to go."

"I will not refuse." You smile, feeling lighter already.

You rehearse together for nearly an hour, and you let the music completely occupy your mind. You don’t think about Professor Douche-Cock; you don’t think about the way he infuriates you and you certainly don’t think about your still overwhelming attraction to him. For that hour, your mind and soul can breathe.

"What's on your mind?" Hongseok's voice flowed over you, a gentle creek warmed by the hot summer sun.

Humming quietly, your eyes fluttered shut and you inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet, fresh scent of him, his cologne mingling with the alcohol on his breath. "You."

"Me?"

The two of you had long since lost track of the music, swaying lazily and dancing way too close. You felt so absorbed in the grip of his hands and the solidness of his body under those damn clothes and you could no longer think straight. You needed to touch his skin, to feel his lips. His face was mere inches from yours - far too much of a temptation.

"You, your lips, your hands, your..." You trailed off with a sly grin. "I'm thinking about everything you're hiding under your tux."

"What a coincidence," he murmured, his fingertips dragging over your exposed back. "I can't stop imagining how you'll look when your dress is finally on the floor."

Your heart raced. He finally admitted to what had been implied all night - that he wanted you naked, that he would get you naked. Of course, that had been your plan all along, but hearing him verbalize it made you quiver with excitement. You needed him... you were desperate.

"When are you going to kiss me?" You couldn't stop the words before they spilled from you of their own volition. But regardless of the unwarranted sentiments, you felt a bold smile form on your lips.

Hongseok chuckled, amused. He pulled you in tighter, the tip of his nose brushing yours as he leaned in. "Wouldn't it be too easy if I just gave you what you wanted?"

"I really don't care." You touched your forehead to his, challenging him. You knew he wanted to. He had to.

His shallow breath fanned over your face as he cupped your cheek. “Neither do I."

A rush of adrenaline burst through your veins as Hongseok closed the gap, finally pressing his lips to yours. Each kiss laced with passionate desire, he held nothing back as he kissed you once, twice, a thousand times over. Your hands traveled up into his soft hair as your lips crashed into his, and he securely grabbed your waist, tugging you towards the bed.

Hongseok sat on the edge of the mattress and you eagerly climbed up onto his lap, straddling him and sighing softly when you felt his hardening length between your legs. You could tell that he had a lot to offer.

He grabbed your wrists and redirected your hands to his tie, and your mouths never separated as you worked to slide the material out from his collar. You quickly moved onto the buttons of his vest and shirt, and he reached around you to tug at the zipper of your dress, both of you completely consumed with the overwhelming need to press skin against skin. You only pulled away when you finally ripped open his shirt, wanting just a moment to take in the sight of him.

He was extremely muscular, as you had expected, and it was almost intimidating how utterly perfect his torso was. You ran your fingers over his rippled abdomen, entranced by the dips and peaks of each muscle. His skin was hot to the touch, and it sent a delicious shock through you.

"How..." You started a question, but you didn't really know where it was going. With a gorgeous face and perfect body, Hongseok was simply too good to be true. You were awestruck, your hands coming to rest on the solid curve of his pecs.

"You haven't even seen the best part yet." He rocked his hips ever so slightly, reminding you that there was even more left to reveal.

"You're so cocky," you giggled, shrugging off the straps of your dress as he peeled the fabric away. You might have been more shy about stripping if you had been sober, but your wine-induced haze made you more than ready to be rid of the damn dress.

"I think you'll find I have good reason to be." His eyes flashed and he pressed another long kiss against your lips. He tasted of bourbon and promiscuity, and you wanted all of it. You were drunk on him. All you wanted was to kiss him for all of eternity.

Hongseok's rough fingers ran along the bare skin of your sides as he pulled your dress down around your waist. With your dress half off, you felt wildly exposed, but in the best possible way. His lips separated from yours so that he could get a look at you the way you had with him.

As his eyes scanned down from your face to your chest, you couldn't help the slight blush that came to your cheeks. It was embarrassing to be looked at that way, but it was also thrilling to watch him drink you in.

"You are absolutely gorgeous. Have I told you that yet?" His eyes met yours, a sweet smile touching his lips despite the darkness of his blown-out pupils.

"Don't think you've mentioned it," you murmured, barely able to get the words out before he crashed into your lips, his hot tongue pressing past the seam. You gladly accepted it, yanking his shirt off of his shoulders and pressing yourself harder against him. His strong arms wrapped around you completely, trapping you in his heat as your tongues wrestled. The kiss was sloppy and messy, but you were too distracted by wanting him to care.

As Hongseok continued kissing you, his hand slipped between your bodies in search of your breast, carefully massaging it and running his calloused thumb over your nipple until it stood up for him. He twisted the sensitive bud between his fingers, drawing a pleasured gasp from you. You had never considered yourself to be especially sensitive to physical touch - not any more than the next person, anyway - but Hongseok threw all of your senses into overdrive, driving you wild with the simplest of touches.

You ground your pelvis against his desperately, and his lips trailed along the skin just under your jaw as he worked his way down to your breast. You arched your back to give him better access, shuddering when his teeth grazed over your neck and collarbone. How could you feel so good already?

Hongseok's mouth latched onto your breast, and he sloppily lapped at your nipple while pinching the one still in his hand. It made the room spin; you were so lightheaded with pleasure you could hardly stand it. Panting heavily, you dug your fingers into his impressively muscular back, cursing yourself for keeping your fingernails so short. He seemed like the kind of guy who might like getting scratched up.

You continued rocking your hips as his mouth moved to your other breast and his hand traced up your thigh, sneaking under the skirt of your dress. Every inch of skin he traversed felt like a mile, taking far too long to reach the juncture of your thigh and your hip. You grinned wickedly as he felt for the strap of your nonexistent underwear, his tongue even pausing its ministrations as he realized that you were, in fact, completely bare beneath your dress.

With a soft groan, he slipped his other hand under your dress, fingers splayed across the round curve of your ass. He released your nipple from his mouth and his fox eyes flashed as he focused in on your face. "You are full of surprises."

"All good, I hope." Your chest tightened as you smiled at him, and your drunk self dared to think you might be falling in love.

"Only the best," he murmured lowly before capturing your mouth in another passionate kiss, his lips embracing yours as he gave your ass a squeeze. You rocked your hips fervidly, desperate to feel some sort of relief, and he caught you off guard when he lifted you, his forearms sliding under your thighs for support. Surprised, you laughed against his mouth and held tightly onto his shoulders. Jesus, he was strong.

Hongseok stood with you in his arms, turning around so he could lay you down on the bed. His lips stayed on yours the whole way down. He hovered over you, propping himself up with one arm, his other hand running over your thigh. His callouses scratched your skin and you purred at the sensation. You wanted those hands all over you.

His knuckles tracked along your inner thigh until his fingers discovered your folds, and you felt him smirk against your lips. You were dripping just from kissing him, and you were sure he approved. Softly, he traced your folds with the pad of his finger and his thumb teased the area around your clit.

You whimpered, squirming with anticipation as he circled your sex. He was such a tease, taking his time and slowly unraveling you. And it was working; you were falling to pieces and he had hardly even touched you.

Hongseok pressed a single finger past your entrance and his mouth moved south to your neck, giving you space to moan. He nibbled at the base of your throat before sliding his tongue up the length of it. "I want to taste you," he murmured into your neck, a quiet growl in his voice.

His simple words made you clench around his finger; you would love that more than anything. Breathy, you said, "Yes, please, do whatever you want." You completely gave yourself up to him, a bundle of nervous energy electrifying your gut. Anything he wanted to do to you, you would gladly receive.

Without hesitation, Hongseok kneeled between your legs, and a chill ran through you at the absence of his heat. He looked beautiful with hair tousled from your fingers and his lips pink from your kiss. How on Earth had you ever gotten so lucky?

His eyes scanned over your body as his finger slid out of you, his hands urging your skirt further up your hips before refocusing his attention on your clit. You gasped as he made contact, your legs jerking at the jolt of pleasure.

A smirk fell on his lips as he toyed with your most sensitive spot. “You are so hot, oh my God…”

You weren’t really sure if you should respond - or if you were even capable of responding - but Hongseok’s lips were suddenly on your folds and your mind went completely blank. His tongue prodded at your entrance before working its way up to your clit, and when he started sucking you swore you were blinded with pleasure.

You fought the immediate tension that coursed through you, not wanting to get wound up too quickly and end it too soon. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and you were convinced you’d never again find someone as gorgeous and fucking amazing at oral as Hongseok. You had to enjoy it.

Hongseok massaged your folds as he continued eating you out, and you couldn’t help but pinch your nipples, amplifying the ripples he sent throughout your body, careful not to take it too far. You whined as you twisted them and he lapped at your clitoris, his finger sliding inside of you once more. You were filled with sensation, and nothing could have been more perfect.

“That’s… aa-aahhh… ohh…” You tried desperately to encourage him, but words were difficult to come by. But he must have understood; he kept up with that same tongue pattern, stroking two fingers carefully against your walls. Sooner than anticipated, he brought you right to the edge. “Hong… Hongseok, yes… plea-oh…”

He didn’t change his pace, didn’t change pressure. He just continued in exactly the same manner until you broke, a series of short, squeak-like moans coming from you as an incredibly powerful orgasm washed over you. He pressed a flat tongue against your clit as you climaxed; you felt so full and warm and beautiful.

When your pulse was no longer racing he released you, and you hummed quietly. You eyed him as he stood, his chin and chest wet with your arousal and his erection straining against his pants: an absolute Adonis if you’d ever seen one.

You were speechless, grinning up at him like a fool. Everything felt so good. How could a human make you feel that way? He might have actually been a god.

Hongseok helped you sit up, and lifted the dress up over your head so you were fully in the nude. Wiping at his chin, he smirked and then reached for his belt buckle. “I hope you’re not too tired. After all, we’re just getting started.”

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Part 3 will be posted Saturday at 8pm.

Update | Read Part 3 here!

All Rights Reserved © gwentory. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

THIS IS REPOSTED FROM MY ORIGINAL BLOG, GWENTORY. All future content (including HFT Part 4 and onwards) will only be posted on GWENTORYFICS. Thank you!

[valhallamercury]

bassist | boh rhap!john deacon x female!reader

Summary: Ever since you’ve met John, you’ve happily thrown yourself down the rabbit hole of falling in love with him. And honestly, how could you resist? He was kind, sweet, and not to mention handsome. Now the only problem: getting to go on a date with  A/N: The requested part two of secretary, so make sure you read that before reading this! This was so much fun to write, tell me if you’d guys would like a part three! :) Warnings: none, except that this is unedited.  Tag list: @lizgarxo @josephhmazzello @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl Word count: 1,994

After your first encounter with the dark-haired man, you had practically thrown yourself into a pit labeled “in love with John Richard Deacon.” Could anyone blame you though? Every time John came in with his friends to record their album, he always made sure to stop by and talk to you. He would tell you about the album and the boys, and you would tell him about how work was going and your pride and joy, which was your cat named Fleur. On bad days, he would make you smile. On some days, he brought you flowers, on others he brought you tea with compliments written on the cup. You dreamed of the day John would ask you out, and each day you would be let down when he didn’t. But you wouldn’t give up.

You sat at the front desk, organizing papers for Mr. Foster that needed to be done before noon. You checked the clock again. 10:34. You’ve got this, Y/N, why are you even worrying about it? You know you’ll have these done in 10 minutes, You thought to yourself. You knew the real reason behind your stress, though you wouldn’t admit it. You hadn’t seen John’s sunshine face in three days, making you worry that you had said something to upset him. A tap tap tap against your desk made your thoughts end. 

You looked up, seeing a familiar smiling face. You’re little sunshine was back. 

“John!” You exclaimed happily, his fond smile becoming contagious against your lips. “I haven’t seen you in a while, I was starting to worry something had happened.” You admitted, resting your head against the palm of your hand. Y/N, your papers, a voice in the back of your head nagged. You decided to ignore it. 

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine. Really. We’ve just been so busy with the album, haven’t had much time to chat.” He explained shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

“Well, I’m glad to see your pretty face again. I’ve missed our little talks.” You smiled fondly at John, seeing his face light up to a bright pink color. It was a fun little game you liked to play: see how many times you could get John to blush. It definitely wasn’t one-sided though, for there were many occasions where Mr. Deacon had made your face go hot. 

“I’ve missed them too.” John returned your smile, leaning his elbows against your desk as he conversed with you. You could tell something was off though; he looked as though he was trying to tell you something, but just couldn’t find the words. Finally, he spoke again. 

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering, what time do you get off?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was this finally your moment?

“I’m actually off tomorrow.” You replied, trying to remain ‘nonchalant sounding’ but you could tell that it hadn’t been too convincing. 

“Well, what a coincidence! The boys and I have a day off tomorrow as well from pumping out songs for the album,” His signature dorky smile and pink cheeks returned, “I was wondering... well, I was wondering since we’re both conveniently off, if maybe you’d like to hang out tomorrow. Like, well, a date.” 

It took all the strength in you not to jump up and down in excitement in that very moment. But, you controlled yourself. That didn’t stop the big smile stretching across your face though.

“I would love to go on a date with you tomorrow, Deaky.” You cooed. He grinned, a soft chuckle escaping through his lips. 

“Great! Great.” He coughed, trying to calm his enthusiasm. “There’s this great tea shop I know that we can meet at,” He began, pulling a sticky note from your desk and writing down the address of the shop. He handed it to you, a bright smile across his features. You happily took the sticky note, folding it up and putting it in your jacket pocket. 

“I’ll meet you there around 10-ish?��� You asked, practically bubbling over with excitement. He nodded quickly, checking the time on his watch.

“I must be going, but I guess, I guess I’ll see you around?” He guessed giddily, slowly backing up as he walked backwards down the hall. You nodded, giving him a small wave. 

“See you tomorrow, Deaks.” 

He grinned, turning around completely as he ran down the hall. You watched him run, seeing him pump his fist up in delight. You saw his three friends come out from behind some furniture of the main lobby, congratulating him. You giggled behind your hand before looking back down at your paperwork once more. 

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

Tap, tap, tap, tap

You blended your base in with your fingers, making sure everything was smooth and even across your face. Even in the most stressful of times, doing makeup had always calmed your nerves. However, you couldn’t stop the butterflies fluttering across your stomach or the way your face would heat up at the thought of John and the date that was in less than an hour.

You tapped a soft powder across your face, setting the base. You smudged a shimmery eyeshadow across the lids of your eyes, brushed mascara through your top and bottom lashes, and ran a clear mascara through your brows to hold them down. You applied a thick clear gloss across your lips, swiping some off your skin when you went a bit over the lines. 

Now the only problem you were faced with: what to wear. Everything you tried on just seemed to either be too much or not enough. You finally decided on denim overalls that were embroidered with elegant pink flowers, a long-sleeved pink and red striped shirt, and red Chuck Taylor All Stars.

“How do I look?” You turned, looking at your cat Fleur, who laid sprawled out across the bed. She lifted her head up, letting out a soft meow, before laying back down. You took that as a sign of approval. 

You only had fifteen minutes or so to get to the tea shop, so you decided to head out early. 

You made your way through the bustling streets of Britain, before finally stopping in front of the quaint little shop. With five minutes to spare, might you add. 

You looked around before spotting John’s familiar long locks. The man had his head in a book, tapping his finger along to the beat of some song as he read. You smiled a bit to yourself, shaking his head. You walked over, standing in front of his booth. 

“Is this seat taken?” You asked playfully. John looked up at you, a fond look appearing across his face. 

“It’s all yours.” He joked back, making you giggle. You sat down across from him, crossing your ankles out of habit. Your Gran had made sure that you always remembered to cross your ankles, not your legs. That was the proper way to do it, you could practically hear her remark. 

“This place is lovely, the scenery is so quaint and cute.” You remarked, smiling as you looked around. The shop was decorated like some sort of Woodstock-esque design. There were posters of the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and many more artists. It had flowers of all sorts of varieties hanging from pots and vases across the store, giving it a lovely dash of color in all the right places. The room smelled of different variations of tea, all of which smelled exceptional. 

“Well, I remembered you telling me so much about how much you loved tea and flowers, so I thought this might be a good place to go.” He said softly, looking back at you shyly through his lashes. You felt your face heat up. No one you had ever been with had been this considerate. 

“You’re sweet, Johnny.” You smiled, resting your hand on your chin as you looked at the flower vase in front of you. “They really should switch the dandelions with those pink asters. The pink would compliment the goldenrods better.” You said, looking at the flowers in front of you. John raised his brows, but his smile never leaving.

“You really know your stuff, huh?”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, letting out a chuckle. “I guess you could say that. I’ve been wanting to be a florist since I was young because my Gran was a florist. She taught me all about different flowers and the way things would compliment each other and all sorts of things. My parents didn’t really think I should become a florist, they said there was no money in it and that people don’t buy flowers anymore.” You shrugged, looking back up at the dark-haired man who had been listening intently. “Besides, if I had been a florist, I would’ve never met you.” 

He smiled at you warmly, glancing at the vase. “Well, I think you should go for it. There’s no shame in trying.” He appealed, looking at you with his soft brown eyes that made you melt. “You’d be perfect at it. You have a cat named Fleur, for God’s sake.” He teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. You giggled, rolling your eyes playfully and gently tapping his foot with your own. 

“Do not make fun of my cat, Deacon.” You scolded jokingly, a laugh escaping from the two of you. Once the laughter settled down, it was your turn to listen intently. “Well, since you know everything about me, why don’t you tell me things about you?” You asked, arching one of your brows. 

He raised a brow in return, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. “Well, what would you like to know?” 

You tapped your chin, thinking for a moment. “Favorite color? Favorite music artist? Hell, you haven’t even told me what instrument you play in your band.” 

“Well, my favorite color is black. Favorite musical artist? Probably Hendrix or the Beatles. And I play bass.” He spoke softly, looking into your eyes as he spoke. 

“That’s all?” You said as you looked at him, gently tapping his foot with your own. “C’mon, Deaks, there’s gotta be more to you than long hair and a pretty face.” 

His cheeks turned pink, tapping your foot with his in return. “Pretty face, huh?” He blushed, your feet now in an all right war with each other. “I was born August 19th,  1951. I have a band with my best mates, Freddie, Brian, and Roger. I like electronics. I love soul and funk music. I love to tinker. Doesn’t really matter with what, but I’m always fiddling with something around the studio. I also know that I’m on a date with the girl of my dreams and talking to her makes me nervous and giddy at the same time.” 

You felt your face heat up, you knew immediately you were giving the man heart-eyes. “You truly are wonderful, Deaky.” You smiled, reaching over and timidly placing your hand over his. He smiled, interlocking your fingers as he returned your fond gaze. 

You turned to face the window, seeing the rain pour down against the window. You took a deep breath, turning back to John with a sad gaze. “I should be going soon, before the rain gets any worse.” 

John frowned, glancing outside. “I’m not letting you walk home in the storm. It’s too awful.” He began, glancing down at your interlocked hands, before looking at you once more. His cheeks had turned an even deeper shade of pink. “My place isn’t far, if you’d like to stay there for the night. Only if you’d like though. Otherwise I could surely walk you home.” He added quickly, looking down at your hands. 

You smiled a bit at him, reaching over with your free hand and grabbing his other. He looked up at you, and you gave him a loving look. “What are we waiting for, Deaks? Let’s go.” 

[percy-son-of-sally-jackson]

Dubstep’s for Pussies (Cable x Female Reader): Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Writing Masterlist

Read it on AO3

Buy a poor gal a Ko-fi

Summary: Reader is Domino's younger sister who has taken an interest in Cable, but both of them are too stubborn to admit their feelings, so instead they take turns pissing each other off until one of them snaps.

Warnings: female reader, mention of age difference, mild hurt/comfort, hurt reader, mild emotional hurt/comfort, will be NSFW in later chapters, spoilers for deadpool 2 ofc, mentions of previous trauma

Word Count: 1338

A/N: This was meant to be smut with a side of plot, but I accidentally added a little more plot (aka angst) into it, so y'all can't get smut yet, and this is going to be a multi chapter fic. I know I said I’d post it on friday, but I’m impatient and bored, so y’all get it a day early!!

Tag list (if anyone wants to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!): @fantasticwizardnerd @cxsmicbrownies @roni-westbrook @the-wayward-unicorn @luisadevitt @booklover2929 @whovianayesha @thehuntress26 @peculiar-monstar

It was 3am and every room in the X-mansion was silent, every room except for yours. Loud, thumping dubstep blasted through the speakers in your room, not loud enough to wake everyone, but just loud enough to piss your neighbour off.

You'd met Cable the same time as your older sister, Neena, had, on that ICE Box transport. While your sister's power was luck, yours was the ability to go unnoticed; it wasn't exactly invisibility, if there was a camera on you, you'd show up, but you could stand in a room full of people with a spotlight on you, and still appear non-existent to everyone, including your own sister. It was some sort of telepathic ability you'd developed at the orphanage to hide yourself and your sister from your abusers.

So it really freaked you out when you tried sneaking up on Cable, and he promptly turned around to catch your wrist with his metal hand, twisting it till you yelped and dropped your blade. He'd made up for spraining your wrist later on by wrapping himself around you and taking the brunt of the impact when Juggernaut fucked the bridge up, but you were shaken.

It still jarred you whenever you were sneaking around the mansion, trying to play a prank on Wade or Colossus, and Cable's gaze would follow you. It didn't help that you both had similar sleep schedules, and he somehow always managed to find you especially when your insomnia got really bad. You weren't unhappy about it though, it was nice to have company instead of being left alone to your thoughts, and it allowed you to slowly drag information out of the stoic man.

You learned that his name was Nathan Summers, he was a kind of mercenary who hunted down bad guys, kind of like Wade and X-Force, he was divorced because his wife didn't want him doing that, and he didn't want to stop; that was part of the reason he didn't mind staying even after Wade got his time-travel device fixed, as long as he knew they were safe and alive, he didn't have anything in the future that required his immediate attention.

In turn, you told him about yourself, about your time at the orphanage; you showed him a couple scars they'd given you, even going as far as to let him touch them. Usually someone touching you would've triggered your trauma, sending you into a panicked frenzy, but you'd grown to trust him to a point that surprised you, and even though he was reluctant to admit it, he'd grown fond of you too, which was nice, but it was also the reason you were mad at him.

You were growing antsy in the mansion, anxious to get out on a mission again, so you were more than ready to go when Wade came back with one, but your joy was cut short when Nathan convinced the group to make you stay back because it was dangerous, and you would be of little use there.

So that's how you ended up blasting Skrillex in your room, which was conveniently located right next to Nathan's. You were sprawled out on your bed, reading a Star Wars book, when your door slammed open, revealing a pissed off, shirtless Cable. You tried to hide your mischievous smile as you sat up, your eyes wandering up and down his body for a second.

"Can I help you?" You asked, not bothering to turn down your music. He snarled through the bass, his eye flashing gold for a second. You'd be lying if you said that didn't turn you on just a litte.

"Turn that shit down."

"Nah, I'm good."

"I said, turn that fucking shit down, right now."

"Sorry, Daddy-o, no can do."

"Why are you such a stubborn little brat?"

"Oh, I'm stubborn? What about yo—," you cut yourself off with a shriek. Cable had just blasted your speaker system with a small energy pulse gun he kept hidden. "Nate, what the FUCK?!"

He ignored you, a small self satisfied smirk on his lips as he turned around and walked back to his room, not even bothering to shut your door. You growled at the audacity, stomping over to his room, and flinging his door open.

"Hey, dick bag, you fucked up my speakers," you marched over to where he was seated at his table with his weapons laid out in front of him. He turned to you, eyebrow raised.

"First of all, those were Wade's speakers, you stole them."

"Yeah, and now I'm gonna have to steal Colossus' speakers, which aren't as good!"

"If you'd lowered the volume as I asked, I wouldn't have had to fuck em up, so really, it's your fault, Princess."

"Why are you such an asshole?!"

"Why are you such a little shit?"

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck YOU."

"God, you're so—."

"What is going on here?" The two of you flinched at the loud Russian voice, booming from the doorway. You slowly turned around, casting a sheepish glance at Colossus. "You two are like two cats fighting over bone, and we can hear at other end of mansion."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, jabbing Nathan in the ribs with your elbow when he didn't speak up. He grumbled something under his breath, making Colossus sigh in disappointment.

"What the two of you need, is to have a good long fuck session," Wade popped up from behind Colossus. "Maybe that'll help with his racism too."

Both you and Cable groaned at his voice; Wade had been trying to get the two of you together ever since the team rescued Russell. While you definitely wanted to fuck the older mutant, there was no way your pride was going to let you make the first move, not when he'd pissed you off this much; if you had to guess, Nathan probably felt the same way.

"Just keep noise down, we have important mission in the morning," Colossus said, before retiring back to his room. Wade stayed back for a second to make a vulgar gesture with two fingers and his tongue.

"Get fucked, Wade!" You yelled, grabbing the nearest gun part and chucking it at your friend who quickly ducked out of the room. It flew half way across the room before being pulled back into Nathan's left hand like an iron nail to a magnet. You turned to glare at him. "You just looove spoiling my fun don't you?"

"This is exactly why you aren't fit to come on the mission with us," he said, his voice getting dangerously low.

"Oh wow, please feel free to elaborate," you said, crossing your arms as your eyes narrowed.

"You're fuckin immature, you don't know how to fight properly, your power is what? Being a fucking wallflower or some bullshit like that, and your judgment is way fucking off, you'd be a danger to yourself and a burden to us," he snarled, pausing a little too late as he realized what he'd said. A hurt look flickered across your face before you hardened your expression.

"Whatever," you spun on your heel and started towards the door. Nathan grabbed your forearm with his right hand, but you wrenched it out of his grasp. "Fuck off, Cable."

You slunk back into your room, locking the door before crawling into bed with a bottle of whiskey, and your laptop, hoping the alcohol and a mindless show would put you to sleep.

—————————————

Cable stood motionless in the middle of his room, fists clenched tightly as he tried to calm himself down before he punched something. He knew what he'd said was a low move, saying you'd be a burden was uncalled for. And the hurt look on your face that you tried to hide was more painful than any bullet he'd take for you.

He slowly unclenched his fists, looking down to see the broken pieces of the half made gun you tried to throw at Wade. He contemplated going over, and apologizing, but he knew you wouldn't open the door or listen to him. With a heavy sigh, he decided he'd wait till he got back from the mission, to give you time to cool down.

[evilalpacaworld-blog]

College!RFA (MC/Reader x Everyone)

Prompt: “My friend dragged me to this party and I just saw my ex, quick, make out with me!” Just for fun—what would happen if the MC did this the first time she met the members of the RFA (plus V/Saeran/Rika and a certain guest star who doesn’t want to be here)? College!AU. Content warning: Saeran’s is slightly suggestive.

Yoosung fights the immediate urge to panic. Girl, his mind blares, his body on red alert. Female human, female human. A gorgeous female human, right there in front of him, asking to kiss him. He doesn’t know how to kiss a girl. He doesn’t even know how to talk to a girl. But. You’re standing there, looking pleadingly up at him, and—well, darn it all. He yanks you close—oops, a bit too hard, sorry—and blushes as you stumble into his chest. Before he can lose his courage, he swoops in, and—just about breaks your front teeth from the force of your mouths smashing together. It takes a while to calm him down, assuring him that you’re fine and waving away his frantic apologies, and by the end you’re giggling helplessly at how adorably flustered he is. Maybe we can try that again? you suggest, any thoughts of your ex fading from your mind as you smile at how quickly Yoosung nods. He leans down towards you, holding you gently. And this time, it’s perfect.

Zen can hardly believe his luck. He’d been eyeing you the whole night, hoping you’d look his way and posing dramatically by the bar just in case you did. He knows he looks beautiful tonight (even more beautiful than usual, anyway), and he thanks all his lucky skin care routines when you suddenly come rushing over to him, whispering about some ex and asking him to kiss you. I’ll kiss you, he says, smiling, in exchange for one thing. You look up at him, wide-eyed and beseeching. Yes, you say, what is it? Zen grins, and leans down. Another kiss. His grin widens at the way you blush, and he pulls you in. He kisses you. Again. And again. And again. By the time he’s done, your ex is long forgotten.

Jumin is wary at first, thinking you must be like one of the women constantly circling his father, here for his money or status or some position in the company. But then he notices your ex prowling a few feet away from you, his eyes dark and predatory, and Jumin feels a sudden flare of protectiveness he’s never felt for anyone except Elizabeth the 3rd before. Jumin looks back at you, loosening his tie as he considers the way you bite your lip and look imploringly up at him. The goal is to make him jealous, right? he says to you. To show him that you’ve moved on to someone else? You nod, and then Jumin smirks in a way that shoots tingles down your spine. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. Let’s show him, then. That he doesn’t matter anymore. And you do show him, kissing Jumin until your lips are swollen and your breath is unsteady and your ex is long gone.

Seven grins and makes some stupid joke that you can barely even hear over the pounding bass of the music. So he repeats the joke, louder this time, when you take another step towards him. You ask him to kiss you again, and in response he fires off another joke. And another. And another. It takes several really bad jokes and outdated memes before you realize that his ears are bright red, and that you’ve all but backed him up into the wall. You’ve all but forgotten your initial goal, your ex pushed to the back of your mind as you focus on this ridiculous embarrassed goofball of a boy in front of you. He’s still grinning a little nervously, opening his mouth to undoubtedly crack another bad joke, when you grab him by the collar and yank him down. By the time you’re done, his face is as red as his hair, and his mouth is hanging open, speechless. But then he says, Well, that was nice—want a kiss from me this time? You nod eagerly—only to watch as Seven pulls a Hershey kiss from his pocket and grins like a madman (who carries chocolate in their jackets, like why?), and you groan before pulling him down for another actual kiss to shut him up.

Jaehee never even wanted to come to this party. She’s tired, and stressed, and has three papers that she hasn’t started on top of the internship application she has to submit—and now there’s this girl in front of her that she doesn’t know, talking about some ex she has and asking Jaehee to kiss her. In any other set of circumstances, Jaehee never would’ve kissed someone she didn’t even know. But now, she snaps—she’s stressed, and upset, and if can’t watch Zen DVDs at home then she’ll at least kiss this gorgeous stranger, darn it! It’s all very quick and overwhelming but nice, and by the time she pulls away you’re both panting. She goes scarlet, slowly regaining her senses, but you’re smiling like a fool and so very lovely. And when you pull her in for another kiss, Jaehee thinks that maybe the endless stress that is her life can be good for something, after all.

V is confused and embarrassed at first, lowering his camera (he brings that thing everywhere okay he’s a sensitive soul) as you come bounding over to him. But once he understands, he shakes his head very gently and tells you that kissing him won’t make you feel any better about your ex. You stare at him, baffled, as he sits you down on the couch and starts making complex metaphors and analogies involving the sun and a bunch of other celestial beings in an effort to get you to value and cherish yourself more. You don’t know in what universe there would exist a college boy who would rather talk to a girl about philosophy and art than have a free chance at making out with her, but one things for sure: this boy is precious, and must be protected.

Rika is sympathetic to your situation immediately. She knows a little bit about jealousy, about heartbreak, about false love and exes and the need to pretend that you’re doing just fine, thank you. She’s a little less sympathetic to the fact that you’re pawing at her, drunkenly begging to kiss her, but, well. You are a pretty thing, and she is coming out of a recent breakup herself. So. She wraps her arms around you and draws you close, and can’t help but smile when you blush at her sudden proximity. You’re surprisingly warm, your skin pleasantly heated against hers, and she feels herself curling into you almost reflexively. And, when she feels the softness of your lips against hers, your warmth radiates into her, stirring up a fluttering heat deep inside her chest. Oh, she thinks. And she pulls you closer.

Saeran is expecting you when you come running up to him. He’s been watching you the whole night, after all. He knows about your ex, too—some greasy sleaze who’s never deserved you, anyway—and Saeran knew as soon as he saw him enter that you would be desperate for a distraction. So he angles himself perfectly so that he’s right in your line of view, and smirks when you come straight to him, just as planned. You barely have the words out of your mouth before Saeran is shoving you up against the wall, lips seeking yours hungrily. If you want to make him mad, he whispers, grinding his knee up against you until you moan. Why stop at kissing? He makes a very good point. You don’t stop at kissing, and by the time Saeran has you pressed against the sheets in the master bedroom at the back of the house, making you gasp and writhe, you’ve forgotten your ex even exists.

Bonus:

Vanderwood doesn’t even know why he’s here. He doesn’t know whose house this is. He doesn’t like parties. He doesn’t even go to college. Dammit, where’s Seven? Vanderwood wanders into the back of the house, opening the door to the master bedroom. He finds someone that looks like Seven (if Seven were chucked headfirst into the clearance rack of Hot Topic) on the bed, straddling a flushed brunette in a tan sweater, lips locked and tongues intertwined. Vanderwood closes the door. He wants to go home. He’s so done.