#doesn't have the same charm in english

[queer-crusader]

I need to make a fucking bingo card for Dutch films and TV shows (would probably just make the viewing experience worse but. Honestly I'm already ticking off the bingo boxes in my head even without a real card)

[heechwe]

but daddy i love him | 𝐬𝐣𝐲

୨୧ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 10.2k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ୨୧ synopsis: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants. ➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.

“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”

“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”

“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”

The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.

Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.

You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”

They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.

You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”

“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”

“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.

As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park���s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?

The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.

“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.

Sim Jaeyun.

You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.

Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.

All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”

“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.

“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.

“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?

Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”

“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”

“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”

Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.

“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”

You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”

Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.

“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.

“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”

A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Who?”

“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.

You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”

“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”

“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”

You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.

“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”

Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”

“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.

As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”

You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”

You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”

“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

“Barely remember it.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”

Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.

Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”

Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”

“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”

“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.

“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.

When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”

You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”

“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”

The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.

All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”

Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”

Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.

A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.

He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.

You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.

It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.

The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone? 

Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”

You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.

 You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?

“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.

You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.

Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”

The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.

You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night. 

In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.

Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”

The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”

On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?

At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.

“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”

Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.

On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”

On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door. 

When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”

Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”

Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.

Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”

Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.

“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.

As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.

“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”

“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”

His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”

You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”

He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”

You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”

Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”

“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”

“I know that.”

“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”

Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.

At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.

When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.

All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.

You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.

“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”

He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”

“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”

You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.

You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”

Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”

“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”

Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”

He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.

“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.

“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.

“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.

“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.

Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.

You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”

You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.

“Jaeyun, I think I–”

“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.

You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”

Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”

You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”

You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”

Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”

Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.

Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.

Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on. 

Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.

“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.

“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.” 

You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.

“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.

You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.

“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.

You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.

“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”

Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”

“What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”

You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”

Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”

He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.

It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.

“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.

Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.

He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.

When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.

Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?

“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.

“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”

You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.

The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.

There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.

So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.

“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.

He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”

“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“

“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?

“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”

Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated. 

In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.

But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.

You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.

Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?

Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”

You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”

“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.

It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.

You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?

“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”

You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.

And boy were you.

Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.

“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.

“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.

You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.

His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.

“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?

He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.

“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”

You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip. 

His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.

He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.

The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.

Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.

You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”

“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.

You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.

“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”

Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.

“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.

“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.

“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.

Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.

“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.

“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.

Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”

“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”

Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.

“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”

“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.

Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under. 

 Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”

“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.

“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”

You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”

You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”

All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.

You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!

You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.

He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”

You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

 You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?

Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”

Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”

“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.

There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”

His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.

He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”

You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”

You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket. 

He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”

Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.

“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.

Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.

You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.

The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.

He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.

“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.

He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.

Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”

You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?” 

Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”

 The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.

He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.

He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.

Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”

You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.

Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.

“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”

“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.

“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.

It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.

Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”

You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.

Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.

He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.

You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.

Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.

With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.

You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.

What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago.  Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.

“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”

Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.

You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”

“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”

They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.

“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.

“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”

My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.

The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.

“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.

“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”

Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”

Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.

You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”

Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.

No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

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[dvchvnde]

PRAIRIE WOLF | prologue

domestic violence, abuse (not Price). unexpected pregnancy. implied age gap.

MASTERLIST. AO3

He's a regular at the diner you work at.

Sits in the same spot, orders the same thing. Doesn't say much, but—according to Elliot—he never does. English, too. A foreigner. But here longer than you've been. Grown roots. Stretched his legs.

He owns a cabin in the woods that be built with his bare hands, and does odd jobs around town wherever he's needed. Mostly carpentry. Woodwork. Only forty, Elliot says, and already semi-retired. Military grunt, though (and in a terrible, exaggerated cockney accent, he adds) back home.

Running from something, he surmises, and you try not to feel flayed under his heavy, pointed stare, offering little more than a shrug you hope is more blase than you feel and a flat, aren't we all? so what makes his marathon so special?

Comes by at five in the morning, fours hours into a twelve hour shift. Likes, what he calls, an English Breakfast.

He isn't like some of the men who show up after midnight, or in the early hours. Blue collar works hungry for more than rubbery pancakes and coffee. The ones who ignore the split in your lip, hidden under a thick coat of lipstick, the puffiness of your eye. Whispering oil-slick charm at quarter to three in the morning when the pregnancy test you stole from the dollarrama is still buried under bloodied toilet paper in the motel you've converted into a temporary home.

Price—John Price—stares at the mess of your pretty face and meets the ugliness head-on, eyes narrowed into something that might be suspicion. Askance. Wariness. Some amalgamation of what the fuck happened to you and don't bring that mess over to my table.

Quiet. In theory.

You've heard him talk—this low, growling thing; the misfire of an engine, a rumble that reminds you of the old Plymouth Fury your dad had. Dangerous. Men like him usually are.

Little girl fantasies spun into real life. Duct tape. Magnets to girls like you with all the broken pieces, fragile parts. And with the bruises bubbling under your skin—burst blood vessels, fist-sized—and the—

The kid, you suppose. Baby. You can't afford to get wrapped up into something like that no matter how many times you catch him staring.

Watching.

The other server always handles his order when he arrives. Since starting work here four months ago, you maybe had all of a single conversation when you floated through the diner in search of something to do.

more coffee? a glance. a grunt. yeah, love. I'll have some more.

So you ignore it. Him. Keep your head down and pour cup after cup to the other regulars who congregate and pretend you aren't living in a motel to escape a man who seems to prefer you bruised up and bloody. Who—

Knocked you up.

Your hand goes there. To your belly. Nauseous, suddenly, with the thought of it. This.

When you glance up, unease prickling across your nape, you catch him staring at you. At the hand still splayed over your stomach. Something frisson across his expression—whiplike: ripples over a lake—but it's too fast, fleeting, for you to catch. Tucked back inside the folds of his patented frown, the ever present crease between his thick, umbre brows.

John lifts his eyes from your ringless hand, the swollen index finger from when you made the mistake of pointing to the door, trying to stand firm with your luggage hidden in the bushes, and meets your gaze. Stares at you head-on. Implacable as always. Blank.

But—and it's so silly, really—for a moment, you thought it was hunger. Something heavy and dark. Possessive.

Then his head dips. A shallow nod. John looks away, eyes slanting towards the window as if he didn't have to tear his gaze away from your belly. From you.

Your heart is in your throat. This too thick, fragile thing thudding against your jugular. Hard to breathe, hard to swallow around it. In the way—

Outside, tires squeal against the pavement.

John tenses. A shadow falling over his brow, a tug on his lips hidden under thick, wry curls.

You don't know what it is until the familiar gurgle of an engine cuts through the silent diner.

He looks back at you as a door slams. A shout erupts.

Fear is a thick, oily sludge filling your lungs. Tarlike. Sticky molasses. It burns, corrosive, and eats away at your tissue until a hole forms, letting spill out inside of you. To your belly where it hardens into a ferric ball of panic.

You thought you had time. One last shift. Collect your paycheck and then run—

But he found you.

He bellows out your name, angry and a little slurred. Drunk. High. Like the passive, maltreated dog he turned you into, you follow the sound, cowing a little when you see him stumble into the diner, face collapsed into fury.

There's a clatter. The hollow echo of wood hitting linoleum. Screams, his yells. It's all muted in your head. Panic throbbing against your ears, stuffing them full of cotton.

His bruised, marled fist reaches for you—

But John gets there first. His broad stretch of his back filling your vision as he pushes himself into the empty space between you and this man, hands raised, catching his mangled fist in one and grabbing a handful of his shirt, tugging him closer. It's all raw, untameable anger as he huffs into the man's face, grinding the words out on a rough, animalistic snarl—

"Touch her again, and it'll be the last thing you ever fuckin' do."

Stress like this ain't good for the baby, the paramedic tells you, brown eyes dampening with a thick ring of sympathy as she turns over your wrist, and dabs cool, wet cotton over the welts on your skin.

She's pushing for you to press charges. Keeps swiping at your skin to unveil more of your hidden hurts to the police officer that holds an old kodak in his hands and snaps, snaps, snaps at every weakness, each vulnerability she offers up.

It'd be the smart thing to do. He's already being booked on assault, threats. Battery for hitting John on the shoulder, the only place he could reach, with the shovel left by the cooks to scrape the snow away from the spot they usually gather around to smoke. No one brings up the fact that John was choking the life out of him at the time, and the bruises around his neck—ugly red fingerprints—are easily ignored.

Adding domestic violence to the list of charges, she mutters, will keep him locked up. Away from you. Can file for a restraining order, the cop adds, scratching the back of his neck as the camera sits, poised and intrusive, in his other hand.

The problem is that you've been through this before.

Like mother, like daughter.

The knife twists a little deeper. Gouges out another pound of flesh lost to a broken home. Another cog in a ruinous system. Poor kid, below the poverty line, with a dad who sold drugs and mother who did them. Dime a dozen.

And with that comes the knowledge that his sentence will be lighter than they're alluding to—if he has one at all. Upstanding citizen before he got shackled in with the wrong crowd, the runaway. Trouble who breezed through and picked the son of an attorney in the big city some three hours away from this town, this dilapidated diner. Sinking claws in.

My son never drank or did drugs before, your honour—

He'll get off with a slap on the wrist because he's never been in trouble before.

Your dad, too—in jail for the weekend when your mother relented to the impassioned beseeches given to her by rookie cops who just wanted that arrest notch on their belt. Saw a judge on Monday. Prison too crowded for such a paltry offense.

The hurt, after, was always worse than what he went to jail for.

So. No. You won't press charges even though you know you should. It'll take too long and you don't plan on staying much longer. Not with your luggage packed in the trunk. The cheque shoved clumsily into your hands when the manager came out to make a fuss, angling a purpling finger in your direction—nothin' but trouble since the day you were hired—only to be stopped by the wall that is John Price, a snarl pulling up at his lips as he barked call the fuckin' police and, low, as if he didn't want you to hear, adding: you ever point your finger at her again like that, and I'll hang you from the goddamn rafters.

You're not sure why he's still here, standing watch. On guard. His bloodied, bruised hands shoved into his armpits as he paces back and forth like a caged tiger unaware the door has been open the whole time. Stalking. Taking measured, meaningful steps towards anyone who tries to come over—badge or not. Barking out orders. Lancing people with his glare when they tread too closely.

Good fucking samaritan, you think, eyes riveted on the blood drying over the gravel. Your head looping, weaving in arching circles as you try to contend with the fact that it somehow isn't yours, but his.

Maybe that's why he stays. Obligation. Civic duty. It makes you snort, and the paramedic glances at you sharply, assessing in that too thick, too kind, way of hers.

"You doin' okay, mama?"

And you wish she wouldn't call you that. Make it real. Mama. Your idea of motherhood, of mothers and moms and mamas, is a woman slumped on the couch, passed out after staying up all night talking to ghosts. Nails caked with the dust of percocets and restoril and oxycodone (oxycotton, she's always called it). Popping mouthful of pills in the morning, afternoon, evening, and night. An assortment to keep her functional—and asleep.

Nodding off in the middle of conversations. Or fighting it to stay high. Irritated and combative whenever she ran out, supply gone dry.

Toxic.

Neglectful—at best.

You can't think about what you'll end up doing to this kid with her blood in your veins. Her ghosts in your head.

John moves. A shadow in the corner of your eye. "'bout enough of that, don't you think?"

She backs up, startled by the aggression in his voice. "I just—"

You think you hate them both. "I'm fine."

She looks back at you, searching. Wanting that assurance, but whatever she's looking to find, it isn't there. You won't give it, and eventually she nods. Peels back. "Okay. If you feel any soreness at all, if anything changes, come to the hospital."

The nod is for her benefit only, and she takes it with a deep inhale.

It thins out after that. The cop and his camera leave, too, after making you take the paperwork needed to file charges. If you change your mind. His number in smeared blue ink on the back. The paramedics go after another futile round of are you sure you don't want to get checked out at the hospital that's decline with a shake of your head.

It's just you and Price now. Your beatup Saturn three spots away from his truck—an old Ford you hadn't been expecting a man like him to drive, with his thick Levi jacket and his steel-toed boots. Standing there with an armful of paper that's going to go in the trash, you're not sure what to do. How to untangle yourself from the claws of this vicious bear that seems content to loom over you like an unasked for cloud, glaring down at you from the bridge of his nose. Expression pinched, like he's displeased. Mad.

You've had enough of angry men, though, and you turn, offering a hollow smile that works it's way around your mouth like a grimace. "Guess I should head home—"

"Running, mm?"

You blink. "Sorry?"

He leans down, all grit and blunt teeth. "That your plan? Runnin' away from all'a this? Find another town. Another motel."

Another man.

He doesn't say it, but it's there. The implication. The idea. It rankles down your spine, a whitehot ooze of shame. Of anger.

"You don't know me," you spit, all anger and indignation. Embarrassment so sharp, it cuts. "You don't know anything about me."

He rocks back on his heel, mouth flattening into an even line. "No, I don't. But I know your type."

"You—"

The indignity is increased tenfold when he meets your ire with an impassive stare, so firm in his assessment of you that he doesn't even bulk when you glare at him. When you rage in quiet fury, shoulders shaking.

"You'll run," he continues, bulling over the vitriol that stutters out in broken squeals of anger. "You'll find a new place. And it'll be fine for a little while but then you'll end up in the same situation because that's all you know, isn't it? S'why you're not pressing charges. Why you got your bag in your back seat. The slightest pressure and you bolt—straight into the same predicament you're in now."

"It's not my fault—"

"No," he grinds the word, firm and sure, and it snatches you by the throat because no one has ever agreed with you on that. It's not your fault. It's just—

"—all you know."

"What am I supposed to do differently, huh? Stay and press charges that won't stick? Wait for him to get out, frothing at the mouth for revenge? Yeah, right," you scoff, rolling your eyes up towards the stale sky. "End up as another statistic? Or—"

Like your mother. It quiets you. Snuffs the flames. All you feel is scraped raw. Hollowed out. Empty and hitting and—

"So you'll just run your whole life? Until it catches up to you, mm? What happens when someone finds you in a place you can't run? When you're all alone, and cornered?"

It tastes like defeat. Resignation. "You think I haven't thought of that before?"

From the corner of your eye, you see him shrug. "Got yourself into a little mess, but it ain't the end of the world. Jus' got to fix it. Can't do that when you run."

"And what's your solution? Find another job, hope that his charges stick? He—"

Drained you financially. Beat you bloody.

You shake your head. "The best thing to do is to leave. I'll be smarter, I'll—"

He scoffs. You ignore it, hands shaking.

"I can't. I just—I can't."

"Come stay with me," he says. Just like that. Stay with me. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Come stay with me. "Got a spare room."

"I don't even know you—"

"People rent to strangers all the time."

"I don't have a job. Money. I can't pay you—"

"Been needin' a receptionist for some time. Pay is fair. Hourly."

You blink, eyes hot. Wet. You feel the sharp edge of hope digging in, that deadly, terrible thing that only ever falls apart when you finally relax.

"Just like that?"

He nods, sharp and firm. "Jus' like that."

"I have a kid," you blurt out, panicked. This conversation is getting away from you. Slipping through your fingers. And the worst is that it sounds so good. Too good. "I'm—I'm pregnant," you add like he doesn't already know. Hadn't heard you mutter it to the paramedic hours ago.

The look he levels you with is an incendiary thing. You feel it in your chest. Deadcentre. "I know," he rasps, head bending down closer to you. "Doesn't change anythin'."

"How could it not?"

"How should it?" He counters.

"In a few months, when the baby is here—"

"I won't change my mind."

"You say that now," you breathe, pulse thudding in your ears. "But when it's screaming in the middle of the night, and—"

His hand reaches out slowly, like he's trying not to startle a horse. Fingers grazing your arm, warm and rough, before closing around your wrist. The one that's bruised and sore. Swollen in his hand. Its done with measured purpose, confidence, that the panic doesn't have time to surge. Instincts too incipient to keep up with the sure, steady way he winds around you.

With his hand on your wrist, fingers folding over the hurt—hiding them—he leans down, thumb stroking along your skittish, unraveling pulse, and makes you meet his stare. Open, maybe, for the first time since you met him. All raw want, naked truth. The bare, fractured look is enough to steal the air in your lungs, snuffing out the innate protests that spume whenever someone offers any sort of help or charity. The no crushed under his heel.

"m'a man of my word," he low, drawing the words out. "I'll be there for the cryin' and the dirty diapers and the sleepless nights."

"And when I can't work for you?"

His lips quirk. "I offer better MAT leave than most places. Reckon you could even do the bloody job from bed."

"Price, that's—this is insane—"

"John," he grunts, giving another shrug before peeling away from you. "Savin' me the trouble of talking to these idiots. Ain't nothin' crazy about that."

"I could be a horrible person. A murderer. Rob you blind, and leave you with you nothing."

It has the opposite effect of scaring him off. If anything, he looks amused. Squares his shoulders, stands to his full—intimidating, impressive—height. Stares down at you with a brow quirked and strange gleam in his eyes.

"Think I can handle myself, love. And if you wanna rob me, bite the hand, so to speak, then I promise you, you won't like the consequences."

You swallow. His tone sparks against your sense of self-preservation, and you fight the urge to take a step back. To put distance between yourself and this grizzly-like man with blunt teeth and sharp claws.

He senses your hesitation. Must because he quiets, shoulders sinking. Hand warm on your skin, giving a slight squeeze before he lets go. You ignore the urge to chase that heat again, and hide a shiver behind a shift.

"How 'bout a test ride, mm? A trial. Stay for a few weeks and then decide if you still want to leave."

Too good to be true. You know this deep down in your marrow. Every instinct inside of you rebelling against this, screaming trap, it's a trap. But there's a truth to what he says, and maybe if you weren't pregnant, you would have flipped him off and ran because men like him aren't kind to girls like you unless they have a reason to be.

You're just not sure what he has to gain in all of this. Why he put himself between you and harm without so much as a sparing glance. Stayed, too, and barked at everyone who got too close. A thunderous shadow full of teeth.

And maybe it's that. The blood concealing into a thick, pulpy plum over the split of his knuckles, the blood on the gravel that isn't yours, the goosebumps rising over the spot he touched, colder than the rest of your skin, that makes you quieten under his heavy stare. Softening into something agreeable. Unreasonable. Instincts shoved into a box.

So you nod and let him place his hand over the small of your back, guiding you to his truck with a firm nudge. Say anything when he helps you in, hands fastening the seatbelt with a clipped I'll be back when he finishes, keeping his wary eyes on you even as he moves quickly towards your car, grabbing your suitcase from the back. Promises to get your car later, too. Bring it back to his house.

And yours, too, he adds, glancing your way after he tosses the suitcase in the backseat, searching for something you're not sure he'll find. So you look away, staring at the dust on the dashboard as he rounds the truck, and slips into the front seat. It smells like him. Fresh leather and the wild. Cedar and moss. Tobacco. Something heady. Masculine. Soaked sage. Loam. Gasoline.

You lean back on the headrest, breathing it in. Trying not to think.

You'll keep your luggage packed. The keys in the ignition. When whatever it is he's planning comes to the forefront, you'll be ready to run.

But right now—

You just want to sleep. Your jaw aches. Your wrist. There's a knot in your stomach—not good for the baby—and it thickens each time you look at his bloodied knuckles curled loosely over the steering wheel, the other on the stick. Close enough that you can feel the heat bleeding into your knee. All fire and spite, and—

Touch her again, and it'll be the last thing you ever fuckin' do.

"Get some rest," he grunts, eyes slanting towards you in a brief, heavy flick. "I'll stop and get some food soon, too, but it's a two hour drive to mine. And you look dead on your feet, sweetheart."

Love. Sweetheart. I won't change my mind.

You swallow down the protest that swells, the lingering residuum of self-preservation that won't let you bear your neck just yet, and offer a slow nod, blaming the easy submission on fatigue. These aches and pains that weep, tender to the touch.

Your eyes slip shut against your better judgement, the warm interior of the truck, his smell, bleeding a sense of soporific comfort you can't remember the last time you ever felt. Just a quick nap, you think. Long enough to rest your eyes—

It's swallowed under the deluge of exhaustion that rushes through when your shoulders drop, lax. He mutters something, but it's awash under the seafoam that fills your ears, lapping waves dragging you further and further away from shore. Something that sounds like girl good but you can't be sure. Hypnagogia is a terrible a thing that likes to spin dreams, play pretend in the cradle of your subconsciousness until the lines between reality and fantasy blur. Ignoring it is easier than admitting that it floods you with a warmth so deep, sweat gathers along your hairline. Feverish and sickly sweet.

Fingers dance along the edge of your brow, rough and coarse, and it's a devastating thing, isn't it? All this tenderness along the broken edges of yourself, nails grazing the fractures like they can be fixed, pushed back into place, and not as if they're about to shatter. It makes you want to lash out even though you can't feel your body anymore, stuck between worlds of wake and rest. Later, maybe, when the phantom press doesn't feel so sweet you'll snap—broken jaw and brittle teeth—at his hand until he remembers to never touch you again. A risk he won't take.

But with the knot in your belly, a baby there, too, and a body more contusion than flesh, you let it happen. Mewl, maybe, a quiet little slip of a thing, and curve into the palm resting over your cheek. Small and docile, leaching comfort as fast as you can before you remember yourself.

in the moonglade, you murmur thank you and swallow down a rough, painful sound when he scoffs under his breath, and says ain't got nothin' to thank me for, sweetheart.

[martygraciesversion381]

Smau where max and reader grew up together and have been together since they were like early teens and they are married and everyone makes fun of max because he has been down bad for reader since day 1. So simp max? And the fans love her and max fights them in the comments lol

LOVER (MV1)

a/n: i hoped that's what you asked for and that you like it<3 (sorry it took me long to write it)

warnings: non just fluff, max being down bad for reader, smau

maxverstappen1

liked by y/nverstappen, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others

maxverstappen1: so glad to have you here today love of my life💕 i guess they were right when they talked about soulmates and good luck charms cause you defenitely are both for me💕

154637 comments

y/nverstappen: love u sooo much maxie💕

↳ maxverstappen1: ik hou van je liefje💕

↳ user1: the heart emoji....i can't

↳ user2: mom and dad

user3: @/y/nverstappen marry me pleaseeee

↳ maxverstappen1: nu-hu she's already taken

↳ user4: lol he's so down bad

user5: i love simp max

↳ user6: he's been like this since day 1

maxverstappen1

liked by y/nverstappen, iamrebeccad, lilymhe and others

maxverstappen1: best holiday ever❤️

1524637 comments

y/nverstappen: love you babe❤️

↳ maxverstappen1: love you more❤️

↳ landonorris: staawwwppp you guys are so cute🥹

lilymhe: marry me pls❤️ i have much more to offer than him

↳ y/nverstappen: omg hi wife!!!

↳ maxverstappen1: sorry @/y/nverstappen but i believe you are MY wife

iamrebeccad: prettiest girl ever please let's ditch the boys and escape together!

↳ y/nverstappen: omw!!!

↳ maxverstappen1: STOP STEALING HER SHES MINE!!

comments have been restricted for this post

maxverstappen1

liked by y/nverstappen, iamrebeccad, lilymhe and others

maxverstappen1: three years since that amazing day where i first got to call you mine❤️ you are the best thing that happened to me and marrying you was the best decision i've ever made❤️ ik hou van je liefje❤️

109289 comments

y/nverstappen: ik hou van je max❤️ (look! i wrote in dutch!)

↳ maxverstappen1: i love you y/n (look! i wrote in english!)

↳ landonorris: you guys are so cute and insufferable

lilymhe: most beautiful bride ever❤️

↳ y/nverstappen: most beautiful bridesmade ever❤️

charles_leclerc: i still have pics of max crying!

↳ y/nverstappen: SEND THEM TO ME!!!

↳ maxverstappen1: god why did you have to say that

y/nverstappen

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, charles_leclerc and others

y/nverstappen: my life in one post❤️ a quote + mother + dream guy❤️ love you to the moon and to saturn maxie❤️

maxverstappen1: love you too❤️ (liked by creator)

lilymhe: why am i not there as your dream girl?

↳ iamrebeccad: i could ask the same question

↳ y/nverstappen: calm down girls you know i like you more❤️

↳ maxverstappen1: @/alexalbon @/carlossainz55 come get your girld before they steal mine

user1: MOTHER IS A SWIFTIE?!

↳ y/nverstappen: of course i am! who doesn't love taylor?

↳ user1: i died dead

tags: (if you don't want to be tagged on all of my posts tell me!) @motorsportbarbie13 @g00d--vibes @gorgeusreputation16 @paulinegba @f1addict3

[yoongelectric]

Drunk in love — LN4

~ believe when i say that you’ll know once you taste it

• part 2: blame it on the vodka

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the night where you and lando just wanted to forget about each other but ended up getting closer than ever

genre: smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: curse words, jealousy, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex, breeding kink

notes: english isn’t my first language so i’m sorry ig there’s any mistakes. i might have gotten a little excited with the lenght of this fic, part 2 will be shorter

The music plays loudly within the walls of your room as you and your best friend get ready for the night. After hours and hours of trying to convince you, Olivia had finally made it, not that you weren't a party girl, in fact you adored it, the feeling of being drunk, the people, the dancing, the music, flirting with strangers, you used to spend the whole week looking forward to go to your favorite club but for months now all those good times have lost all meaning when all you can see is your best friend going from girl to girl every weekend without any type of remorse. And for months you’ve been trying to do the same thing to stop thinking about him, only achieving the opposite.

You can’t blame those girls, in fact, you understand them perfectly, not just because Lando is rich and famous, that's the least important thing really, but in any crowd he's always the first man you see, he's handsome, attractive, even magnetic, the kind of man no girl would ever say no to, and you were painfully aware of that, because of course, you were one of those girls who could never say no to him.

That's what bothers you the most, because no matter how many dates you go on, how many strangers you flirt or sleep with, how much time you go without seeing him or speaking to him, you always notice how they are not him, how they don't have his laugh, his eyes, his charisma, his charm, his way of hugging you, his way of making you forget everything and everyone, no matter how good they are in bed, none of them can make you feel the warmth that you feel when he simply holds your hand or rests his hand on your waist to help you walk through a room full of people, and it's already getting tiring to hope that at some point that's going to change.

While you finish applying the sluttiest red lipstick you have, and check that you are not missing anything in your purse, you look at your outfit in the mirror, a little black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, actually, if you are not careful you can flash anyone at any moment, you feel attractive, you know you look pretty, but you also know that neither this dress, nor the makeup you spent so much time on, nor your perfect hair will be enough for Lando to look at you the way you want.

Olivia seems to notice the sad expression on your face, "y/n don't make that face, if Lando is stupid enough to not make a move on you then he doesn't deserve you to spend another second thinking about him" she says handing me a shot of vodka that I swallow without hesitation

“Do you think I'm in love with him because I want to, Olivia? If it was up to me I would only see him as the friend he sees in me, that's what he wants, but it seems I can't.”

“if you want to believe that he sees you only as a friend then go on, i think he’s just a pussy” Olivia shouts from the door as I grab my keys and follow her.

-

Lando stared at his glass of whiskey, lost in thought, looking at the time on his watch from time to time thinking about when you would arrive, he was dying to see you, he didn't know if he was imagining it but he had this feeling that you’d been avoiding him all week, you didn't answer his messages, and if he called you, you quickly ended the conversation saying that you were busy, you had always been very bad at lying, who can be busy on a Saturday morning? He knew that his doubts would be solved at any moment and oh how he wished it was just his head fucking with him.

In the distance he saw a girl who he could have sworn was you, but after looking at her for a few seconds he slapped himself internally for having mistaken you for someone else, how could you be that girl? She doesn't have your grace, nor the light that seems to follow you everywhere making you look untouchable, the people around her don't turn around automatically and he doesn't feel that comfort in his heart when looking at her, but what's the point anyway? None of them make him feel anything like that, none of them are like you and he knows it.

He knows that you are the girl for him, he has known it since he won his first race and as soon as he crossed the finish line the first thing he thought was if you would be proud of him. He knows that he will probably love you all his life and that without you his destiny is to wait for someone to entertain him enough to not think about you all the time. He knows how sad that is and he's not sure if he can continue like this for much more, but he can't condemn you to what a relationship with him means, he barely has time for himself and how could he try to have a relationship with you if he can't give you all the time you deserve? How can he try to be with you if it means you have to be moving from one side of the world to the other all the time or not see him as often as he would like?

If everything was different he would have jumped right into your arms months ago, but you deserve much more than what he can give you.

Max's voice brings him out of his thoughts telling him something painfully true "so you’re already looking for a girl who looks like Y/N to spend the night?" How much more time can he spend trying to find you in another person? probably a lot less than he thinks.

-

He was hypnotized, watching you dance with your friends, running your hands over your body, laughing and looking so sexy, since you arrived he couldn't stop looking at you, a feeling between how bothered he was by that sinful dress that hugged your body in all the right places and the concern for the cold greeting he had received, he was gripping his glass tightly and using all his will not to grab you by the waist and pull you against him, he wanted to ask you the reason behind your actions, how were you able to stay away from him, when it felt impossible for him to do that.

It was then that he saw him, tall, with a bright smile, just the type of boy you've always liked, he approached you and spoke to you so carefree, calm, without the all the nerves Lando felt every time he had to get too close to you. He doesn't know what the boy said to you that made your laugh echo throughout all the VIP area but he was sure as hell it couldn't be that funny, how could your eyes shine like that looking at someone that two seconds ago you didn't know existed? how could you look at a stranger the way Lando had always wanted for you to look at him? oh how oblivious he was

As soon as he tried to get up to stop the situation, he felt the hand of the same girl he had seen earlier on his shoulder and as some type of divine signal it was then that he came to his senses. If he really loved you, he should let you live your own life.

Back to where you were, the nameless boy grinded against you while grabbing your hip and the two of you danced to the rhythm of the music, he was cute, sure, he was nice and funny, but in your drunken state your head seemed to betray you making you think about Lando over and over again, each song seemed to be talking about him, about you, about the two of you, and just when you were trying to get away from the boy it occurred to you to look at him, At this point you should be used to it, glass in hand, a girl on his lap, kissing so passionately it made you want to cry.

You were fucking sick of it, sick of the looks of pity from all your friends, of not being able to get mad at the girl, or Lando, you could only be mad at yourself for having these stupid feelings and not being able to settle for his friendship that at the end of the day was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you really don't know how or when but you were glued to a wall kissing the guy, he was grabbing your ass tightly and biting your lip while you were pulling his hair trying to understand the situation you found yourself in, with far too many drinks on you, the jealousy, shame and unreciprocated feelings you felt for your best friend, you decided to lose yourself in the touch of the boy you had just met.

When the girl moved away from him to take a breath he saw you, your hair messy, your dress rolled up and that son of a bitch's hands grabbing you just like he would like to do, he didn't even have the decency to take you somewhere more private, but again, who was he to get involved in what you were doing if he knew that he couldn't give you what you deserved anyway, so he grabbed the girl's face and continued kissing her, but he couldn't stop thinking about you, the weight of the girl on his lap made him wish it was you, Lando wanted you to grab his hair just like you did with the boy you were kissing, he knew he could make you feel much better than him, he would take you somewhere empty because only he should be the only one to see you this way, he would grab you by the waist and pull you against him, he would kiss you with so much feelings that you wouldn't doubt his love for you, the erection that grew underneath his pants made him imagine how good you would feel rubbing yourself on him and he was sure it would feel like heaven listening to you moaning his name when he went down to kiss your neck.

“fuck, y/n just like that, baby” he didn't expect that it was going to be your name the one that escaped his lips.

The look of confusion and shock from the girl who was sitting on his lap brought him back to reality, and he doesn't know if he was suddenly sober or if all the alcohol that was in his system hit him at once but his body, his mind and all his senses told him to look for y/n, so apologizing to the girl and getting her off of him, he began to look for his love.

He looked around but there was no sign of her, her friends were still dancing in the same place but she and the boy he had seen her with earlier had disappeared, he asked Max but he told him that he had lost sight of them ago. For a while, when he saw Olivia, he realized that if anyone could help him, it was her.

he got into the crowd of dancing girls trying to get her friend's attention, "Olivia, hey, where did y/n go?" He said when the girl finally saw him

"Lando, I think you should leave her alone, she's busy" your friend knew that today you just needed to forget about him.

"Did she leave with him? Just tell me if she's still here, please" Lando was desperate, he feared that if he didn't find you now he would never have the courage to confess his feelings to you again

Olivia finally gave up "she just told me she was going to his house, I don't think they're gone yet" she took a deep breath and added "she's trying to forget you, I know deep down you know that, don't do anything if you know you're gonna hurt her, Lando."

"Thank you, i promise i will not" he said before running to the club’s door

You don't know why you agreed to this, but you found yourself walking towards the car of the boy you just met today, do you really want this? you don't know, in your head you just think that maybe this is it, maybe he can make you forget about Lando, in fact, you should be happy, he is cute, hot, funny, attentive and respectful, why aren't you happy? And why do you feel so relieved when you feel a hand on your shoulder stopping you?

"y/n, please don't go with him" you turn around when you hear the familiar voice and you feel your stomach do a thousand flips when you see the person you've been thinking about all night.

You pause to look at him before speaking, he looks agitated, in a hurry even, as if he was going to run out of time, but even in that state he is the most attractive man you have ever seen, some buttons on his shirt are undone showing his chest, as if the slightly see-through fabric wasn't enough, his tanned skin glowing under the night lights and you don't understand why he has to come out of nowhere now to ruin anyone else for you.

"Lando, is everything okay?" Your voice denotes concern and Lando just wants to have you in his arms.

"lov- sorry, y/n" he corrected himself "don't go with him, I need to talk to you, please, I need you to give me a chance"

"what are you talking about?" Your words came out like a whisper, you had to be misunderstanding him, or not?

"Sorry mate, this isn't your fault, but I love her, she's the love of my life, I can't let her go."

Suddenly you remembered the boy who was there with you, you looked over your shoulder, you only saw confusion in his gaze and you felt sorry for how he had ended up in this situation just because of bad luck, you shared a look and the boy understood that he had to leave.

"Lando, if this is some kind of joke or you're just doing it because that girl rejected you, I want you to know that it's not funny."

Lando felt a pang of pain in his chest, what had he been doing wrong all this time for you to believe him capable of playing with you like that?

"this isn’t a joke, y/n, I'm tired of pretending that I don't just love you, baby." he said taking a few steps until he was right in front of you "I don't know what I did for you to not want to see me or talk to me, but let me fix it, even if you don't feel the same way, I need you to treat me like before, I miss you love"

"I was just trying to forget you, Lando" the tears began to fall down your face and you didn't know if you felt shame, joy, anger or relief, if he felt the same, why had he made you see him with all those girls before? Why hadn't he spoken sooner? Why hadn't you spoken sooner?

you felt his lips on yours, and for the second time that night you were kissing someone, but this time everything made sense, you could only think about lando, you were right where you wanted to be, you were aware of his touch in every place where his body made contact with yours and time seemed to have stopped, you were addicted to the feeling of finally having him all to yourself and you didn't want to stop even to take a breath or move to another place.

He felt the same way and with all his strength he moved away just enough to mumble "let's get out of here."

-

The car ride to your house felt like a fever dream, you wanted to talk to each other but you had so many ideas in your head that you didn't know what to say first, you wanted to touch each other but you didn't want to spend another minute without being in a place just for the you two, so all you did was share looks of love and happy giggles

You two were finally home and it seemed like you were glued to each other, the heat in the room was becoming more and more unbearable as you kissed, grabbed and caressed each other, thanks to muscle memory you managed to get to your room and Lando just pushed you to the bed before climbing into it straddling you

"So pretty, baby, I can't believe I finally have you" he said kissing your neck and lifting your dress asking permission to take it off.

You nodded silently and Lando wasted no time in removing the garment that covered your body. He began to run kisses and licks over your shoulders, collarbones, arms and stomach until he left you desperate and trembling beneath him. You knew he was enjoying it but you had waited so long for this that you couldn't stand him not touching you right where you wanted, losing your patience you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

“nuh huh, that's my job, precious, let me enjoy you just the way I want” He said kissing, sucking and biting your neck, his words sending shivers to the wet areas of your skin.

"Lando, please, you're going to have plenty of time to enjoy me in every way you want, just fuck me already, I can't wait." As you spoke you couldn't help but arch your back when lando gently bit your collarbone making a moan escape your mouth.

you heard him laugh cockily "plenty of time? does that mean we're going on a second date?" and just when you thought about slapping him for his bad joke you felt him cup your pussy relieving half of the tension you felt.

He lived to please you and if you wanted to get to the point that's what he would do, he quickly got rid of your bra attacking one of your nipples with his tongue, circling the muscle over it before taking it all in his mouth, moaning softly into it, after a while he moved to your other nipple, repeating his actions, but paying attention to the previous one with his big, rough, veiny hands, you were a moaning mess, and every once in a while you had to remind yourself that this was really happening and it wasn't a product of your imagination.

"mmh Lando that feels so good, please don't stop" you said trying to reach his member to touch it over his clothes, but you instantly felt him pin your arms over your head

"not yet, y/n tonight is all about you, let me make you feel good" he said moving down to your hips leaving kisses right on the waistline of your panties

He stopped to look at the lace panties you were wearing, black and all see-through, they were sexy but at the same time elegant and Lando felt like he would faint right there.

"these are so pretty, it's a shame i have to take them off," he said, taking your underwear on each side and removing it in one go.

It was at that moment that he saw you naked for the first time, you looked so hot but also innocent, the look of desire and at the same time love in your eyes could not be compared to anything that Lando had seen before, and he couldn't believe he had been missing on this for so long.

He ran a hand over your wet center and hissed at the sensation.

"baby, please do something, I'm going crazy" you begged, pushing your hips against his hand, trying to get more friction.

"well, since you're in such a hurry, god, we have to work on your patience, love." Without warning, Lando put a finger inside your hole and at the same time went down to lick your clit, while leaving his finger still inside you, he licked your bundle of nerves from side to side, up and down and circling his tongue against you, the euphoria you felt at that moment didn’t allow you to speak, the only thing that came out of your mouth were desperate breaths and moans of his name repeatedly. Every time you dared to look between your legs and saw your friend's piercing eyes you felt yourself embarrassingly quick getting closer to the edge.

"Lando, I need more, please, I want to cum."

so you felt a second finger inside you, he began to move them at a soft and strong pace, curving them inside you in the most delicious way, it didn't take long for you to finish all over his mouth and fingers, with a scream of his name and pulling him against you by his hair, he continued sucking your clit until you pushed his head due to overstimulation.

“You taste so good, my love, please let me do it again” he said kissing your inner thighs trying to open your legs again.

"another time, babe, I want you to fuck me, I need to feel you" you said pulling him from his shirt, you were feeling a little self conscious as you noticed how he was fully dressed and you were naked in front of him, so you unbuttoned his pants begging him to take them off, he, always willing to please you, pulled them down at the same time with his boxers, letting his dick come out freely in front of your face.

None of all the dirty nights you spent thinking about him could prepare you for what was in front of your eyes, his member, the perfect length, thick and veiny, with his tip all wet, seemed to beg you to put it in your mouth.

And that’s what you did, kneeling on the bed in front of him, licking the tip vaguely and without wasting much time you started sucking on it. Lando grabbed your hair in a ponytail and allowed himself to enjoy the heat of your mouth.

You wanted to make him feel good, it was the only thing you could think at that moment, and when you looked up and saw his face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back and tasted his salty precum you could only moan in satisfaction, the entire moment made you so wet again and your hole clenched around nothing.

Against all his desire and will, Lando removed his dick from your mouth, it felt so good, but he needed to fuck you, he needed to feel your wet walls around him, so once again he pushed you on the bed and put your legs on his shoulders.

"Are you ready?" The question felt like a joke, you had been ready for months.

"yes, so ready, please fuck me"

You felt his member press against your pussy and the wetness made it so easy for him to slide in all at once.

Both of you moaned in unison as you felt that you were finally where you belong, Lando stayed still for a moment to let you get used to the size and to take a breathe so he wouldn’t cum on the spot.

When he saw your desperate face and felt how you pushed your hips against him, Lando began to fuck you without mercy, hand on your neck choking you just the way you like it, grunts and moans escaping from his mouth, turning you on more and more.

"baby, please, I'm so close, you fuck me so so good, I love your dick so much, please" you didn't know what you were saying, you just knew that you didn't want anyone but him.

Lando couldn't help but laugh at your state, but he wasn't much better than you, feeling his orgasm getting closer, he removed his hand from your neck and began to draw circles on your clit, his thrusts were erratic and the trembling in his legs let you know that he wasn't going to last much longer.

"land-o, baby, cum inside, I need you to fill me" and with those simple words the two of you climaxed at the same time, white dots filled your vision and you could swear it was the longest orgasm you’ve ever had, when you came back to your senses, your friend removed his member from your hole and turned your positions so that you were on top of him.

"We should clean up" you said, ignoring your tiredness, trying to be responsible.

"Let's stay like this for a while, I need to hug you, hold you close" despite his tired tone you could hear him talking to you with a smile.

A few minutes passed and just when Lando was about to fall asleep, your words brought him out of his state.

"You know we'll have to talk about this tomorrow, right?"

And just like that, he remembered each and every reason why he hadn't done this before.

[asvtrials]

I know you said you wanted ideas and I would love to enable the emperor brainrot. I’ve been wondering how Geta would react to women fighting in the games. I know the timing doesn’t quite work out (his father banned them from participating) but they used to, even high class women participated. The movies aren’t exactly right with the real history anyway. Just a thought I have. For someone so… bloodthirsty, I think it would be interesting…

Thank you for the suggestion, I LOVE THIS IDEA OMG! I can see him being so entranced by such a strong woman. I hope you like this <3

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

Emperor Geta x gladiator!fem!reader, minors dni! masterlist

summary: The moment the older Emperor laid eyes upon you, in the middle of the Arena, he was lost. You were encircled by corpses, every bit of your skin and clothing was coated by the red liquid of your enemies yet you looked divine, so divine that Geta wanted you for himself. warnings/tags: Gladiator reader, sub!Geta x dom!reader, ooc, power play, Geta wants to be topped and doesn't even know it lmao, p in v, choking, description of gore, death and blood

tags: @1950schick @longlivemyblues @reformedkingsmanagent @doodle-with-rhy @whimsicalittletrinkets @edsbug @jakesullyswhore @only4thefics @lillissleepmedicine @badbun5656 @cokepowder55 @idolofthewestcoast @www-interludeshadow-com @ellie-luvsfics @cosmorant @believeinthefireflies95 w/c: 3.7k English is not my first language and I'm not used to writing in present tense. Sorry for any mistakes I make.

── ୨ৎ

The moment he laid eyes on you, Geta knew he was done for.

You were breathtaking in every way he could think of, so much so that even Caracalla noticed his breath catching in his throat as they gazed below from their box.

He knew you weren’t meant for everyone’s eyes.

Your golden skin, dark curls, soft lips, and doe eyes were of such contrast to the tight grip you had on your sword and the redness that stained your clothes. It was all too intense to ignore so that same night he ordered your master to bring you to the palace.

He taps his foot against the marble floor the longer it takes for you to arrive and Caracalla's cackle echoes in the vast room at Geta’s boyish behavior. Geta sends him a warning glare but immediately turns when he hears Thraex’s voice.

“My Emperors!” He calls cheerfully as a servant leads him to the twin thrones. 

He almost forgets to regard Thraex as he searches for you but sends a tight-lipped smile before his eyes fall on your figure. You stand behind your owner, eyes refusing to look away from the floor.

“Thraex!” Caracalla welcomes, throwing his hands in childish delight. “Incredible performance today! You never fail to entertain us!”

“My Emperors I see you have been charmed by this beauty! I don't blame you it's not every day that we see female Gladiators.” He boasts, grabbing your face rather harshly and forcing you to face the Emperors.

Gods, you were even more mesmerizing up close. He didn’t appreciate how Thraex touched you thoughtlessly, his brow twitching at the sight of his dirty nails digging into your cheeks.

The Emperor steps forward and with one wave of his hand, Thraex quickly withdraws his hand and steps to the side. 

Geta doesn't even look at him, he is too lost in your confusing gaze. For once he doesn’t see any admiration or even fear in someone’s eyes. It is something different, so foreign and electrifying…

“How shall we call you, warrior?” He asks, his voice surprisingly stern despite his internal feverish excitement.

“Her name is—” Thraex begins but Geta raises his hand, silencing him immediately.

You remain quiet, unsure of what to do. You weren't told you'd have to speak. Honestly, you weren't given much information to begin with. They just hoarded you to the carriage and brought you here.

You give an uncertain glance to Thraex but your eyes snap back to the man before you when speaks again.

“Don't look at him.” Geta reprimands. “Look at your Emperor,” He says and you can practically feel the arrogance as the word ‘Emperor’ leaves his mouth.

“Emperors!” Caracalla yells from his throne but Geta ignores him.

“How shall we call you?” He repeats, dismissing his co-emperor.

“Y/n.” Your voice is strained when you speak but his lips twitch upwards at the sound.

“Y/n… Delightful.” He murmurs as he searches your eyes for something even he isn’t sure.

“Thank you, Thraex. The servants will lead you out.” He tells the older man who frowns. He wasn’t prepared to walk out without a slave this evening.

“My Emperor, um…” He stammers. “She is rather expensive and I-”

“I can see that.” He interrupts and his eyes run down your figure. His hungry gaze sends a shiver down your spine but you try to ignore it.

“She will stay in the Palatine until her next game, that is if she fights again.” He informs the man, finally turning to him, but not for long. His attention was back to you, his finger reaching for one of your curls. “I'll see how she'll do today and I'll inform you. Do not fret, You will be compensated.”

You narrow your eyes, the implication barely hidden between his words.

You didn't look away from him even when the maids hurried you out of the room. It wasn't out of attraction, although you have to admit he wasn't bad, it was because of fear. 

This felt like the beginning of a very dangerous game. Being faced with hungry predator, yet not being eaten. Waiting for the blow, yet never being hit…

Never sure when you’re going to be devoured, broken, and ruined completely until you're tossed to the side.

The maids lead you to the servants' bathrooms. Normally, you would feel revolted at how they touch you and scuff you, but getting clean after so many days silences any negative emotion.

It was painfully obvious that they were ordered to prepare you as fast as possible. The uncomfortable discovery of just how impatient the man was hangs above you as they dress you. As much as you want to pretend you can handle Geta he remained the Emperor of Rome. A spoiled, entitled Emperor who is used to getting his way…

The servants guide you to his chambers with hushed whispers that you don’t bother tuning to. You take a deep breath as you stand in front of the large doors of his bedroom, uncomfortable in the thin dress they put on you.

A servant gives you a light push resulting in you sending her a glare but you do comply. 

Softly, you give the heavy door a few knocks with your knuckles. You don’t wait much until a “Come in.” reaches your ears.

You enter the grand room and you have to pause for a minute to let it all in. The luxurious furnishing and decor of the bed chambers are a stark difference from the muddy cells they provided to you. It is beyond anything you’d seen before. Geta smirks at your astonishment.

“Come, my little warrior.” He orders, his voice honeyed despite his authority.

“What am I here for?” You ask as you approach him, disinterested in idle chit-chat. As much as the venom threatens to spill from your tone, you make a real effort to sound as polite.

Geta doesn't bother giving you an answer. He merely extends his hand, bringing the back of his hand close to your face, expecting you to comply with his every command.

You hate that he is right. As much as you want to spit on his face you want to keep your head, the promise of living long enough to win your freedom was such a flickering hopeful thought but it kept you from making foolish decisions like spitting on your Emperor’s face.

You eye his fingers, the rings that adorned almost all of them shine in the candlelight. Bitterly, your cold hand reaches for his, and the moment you feel his tender flesh against your lips you feel nauseous but he doesn’t seem to notice, or more accurately, care. His fingers twitch at the contact.

Tender and delicate.

If it isn’t clear by his behavior or extravagant attire that he knew nothing about work, pain, or how it felt to beg for a moldy piece of bread, the softness of his hands made it very clear.

He knows nothing about the suffering that he and his brother put everyone through. Gods, you want to rip him apart.

“What am I here for?” You repeat, dragging each word as if you're talking to a child.

“To entertain me. Aren't you an entertainer?” He answers with a small smirk threatening at the corner of his lips.

“I am a Gladiator.” You correct sharply.

“I see no difference.” He chuckles, stepping back to a table filled with food and wine.

He pours himself some wine, offering you some as well. Although you want to act cold and refuse the liquid looked too tasteful. You accept, bringing the cup to your lips without words. It is as delicious as it looks and you close your eyes for a moment to relish the taste.

“Divine isn't it?” He asks, a pleased smile playing on his lips. You snap your eyes open, mentally slapping yourself for giving him the satisfaction. You nod, setting the cup on the table.

Suddenly he steps forward, closing the gap between you. “You must already understand that I didn't call you here to drink.” He says, bringing his hand to sit on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing your collarbone.

“I am no whore.” You warned, pushing his hand away

His eyes darkened at your words “You are whatever I want you to be.” He says through gritted teeth.

As much as you tried, you couldn’t bite your tongue. “That is what you believe, huh?” You begin, a dry chuckle leaving your lips. “You think we are ants in your Empire?”

He tilts his head, eye twitching. He starts at you as if trying to figure out what he should do to you. The taste of defiance from someone like you was far beyond what he had anticipated for this meeting…He isn’t sure why but it left a sweet aftertaste. Intoxicating is the only word that comes to mind.

Soon enough he snaps out of this mind-fogging haze and grabs your arm harshly. You don’t even flinch, it couldn’t compare to the hardship you had gotten through in the arena.

“Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?” He warns, voice breaking in a mix of surprise and fury.

Something compels you in that moment. Is it anger after seeing the lavish life he has while you were rotting away in a cell? Is it a surge of power after bashing the Emperor himself?

You grab his wrist, your grip tight and unforgiving. His eyes widen, glancing between your hand and eyes.

You can’t help the smirk that falls upon your lips when worry flashes in his eyes. It was only for a second but you have seen it too many times to miss it. You don’t miss the way he didn’t pull away either.

A small breath slithers past his lips as he stares down at you, the darkness in his eyes almost gone in the candlelight.

“You’ve brought me here to claim me…You think you can?” You tell him and his look alone was worth your possible execution.

“You dare underestimate me, you worthless—”

“I can snap your wrist like a twig” You interrupt him with a chuckle.

He raises an unconvinced brow.

You convince him just fine with a calculated press of your thumb against his bone. He hisses in pain but he doesn’t pull his hand back.

“But I think you would like that, My Emperor,” You tell him with a wicked smile. It is barely above a whisper but it’s enough to make Geta’s breath catch in his throat. “All you have to do is ask…” 

You can’t believe it. Emperor Geta, the ruthless and heartless Ceasar looking at you like he was about to kneel and kiss your feet if you let him, have his head if you wished for it.

“Can you—” He begins the words catching in his throat, shame catching up to him faster than his words could leave his mouth. “Join me tonight?” He finally manages to say, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Something warm spreads across your chest and your fingers twitch around his wrist before ultimately loosening your grip.

He lets you guide him to the bed without a word. He doesn’t even look back, his eyes already too foggy with desire. Once the back of his legs meet the edge of the bed, he lowers himself.

Geta’s breath fans your stomach, and the thin material of your cloth barely covers you and you shiver. His hands ich to reach for you, to wrap his hands around your waist and drag his lips all over your skin like a starved man but he restraines, looking up at you through his lashes.

Your smirk grows wider at his obedience. 

Your hand snakes up his arm and rests on his throat and he groans, a sound dangerously close to whimper. Shame washes over you when you find your thighs pressing together at such a pitiful sound. 

“My Emperor, did you know…” You begin and Geta forces himself back to reality at the sound of your voice. “That if you slice this little vein, right here—” You murmur while gently running your thumb on a prominent vein in his throat, your tone soothing completely unsuitable for your words. “Death will find you slow and painful…Such feeble beings we are…”

“Have you ever done it?” He asks, nearly innocently. “Given someone a slow and painful death?”

“You would’ve known.” You sneer, your mocking laugh making his cheeks burn.

So you have noticed him looking at you, even when the fight was long finished and you were resting against the burning sand, bodies gushing with blood surrounding you.

His hand creeps up your arm,  A silent plea for you to give him what he wants. So you do.

You squeeze your fingers around his throat making him gasp in surprise. The breathy moan that escaped his lips tell everything you need to know and you press your fingers tighter, your nails digging into his incredibly soft skin.

He throws his head back, gasping desperately. His hand slides down to his stomach but before he could move any further you grab his arm, pinning it against the mattress.

Has he ever felt this weak, this vulnerable? You hoped the answer was no. How could you imagine anyone else seeing him in such a state?

He snaps his eyes open, half-lidded eyes staring back at you with such desperation that you had to resist the urge to give up on whatever this little game was and just sink on his dick already.

“You are enjoying yourself, my Ceasar?” You mock but he doesn’t notice the ridicule in your voice, perhaps he is too used to his enjoyment being everyone’s concern. His answer comes in an eager nod.

Your gaze travels down his body, your eyes lingering on him longer than you would ever admit.

Your eyebrows shoot up when you notice the tent in his toga. 

You could see he likes it but not that much.

Without much thought you climb the bed, the mattress dipping under your knees as you cradle his lap. 

“Mmm…” You purse your lips to stop the sounds that threaten to spill from your lips when you feel his hardness press against your clothed core.

His mind is too far gone, too deprived of oxygen to understand much; he could only whimper softly at the friction.

His breaths come more shallow than before and his hand grips yours.

It would be so easy to just squeeze. He wouldn’t even scream, how would he when all the oxygen was stolen from his lungs?

Nonetheless, you release your grip no matter how tempting the idea is.

He gasps for air, his hand coming to rub his throat, throwing his head back with a long sigh, desperate to fill his lungs again.

Once he finally realizes the position that you've arranged yourself in, his other hand comes to your thing, squeezing lightly as if to ground himself.

You hate that you welcome the action, his warm hands feel begrudgingly pleasant on your skin.

You let him come back to reality, waiting until his chest moves slowly again. He wet his lips with his tongue as his eyes try to focus and for the first time, you notice the tears that sit on his lash line.

You want to taunt him, to call him every degrading name that sat on your tongue moments ago but you simply can’t. Not when he looks at you like he would break apart at any moment. No—when he looks at you like he wants you to break him apart.

So you do the next best thing you can think of, or more accurately, your body can think of. You roll your hips forward, earning a gasp from the both of you.

Both his hands fly to grasp your thighs tighter as you repeat the motion and again until he shakes under you, throwing his head back with a whine.

“I—I want you.” He rasps between soft moans, his voice soft and pleasing.

You pause contemplating for a moment if you should do it the easy way. You have to laugh because why would you?

“You want me?” You repeat with a taunting giggle, grabbing his jaw between your fingers, and forcing his gaze to meet yours.

“Yes.” The word comes out in a quick, desperate breath, so fast that it makes your mocking smirk falter for a moment.

“How pitiful. Imagine the Senate seeing you like this. Bet you'll lose what little respect they have for you.” You snicker, running your thumb over his cheek. His only response was digging his nails into the flesh of your thigh.

His reddened eyes blink rapidly but you can still notice the blown-out pupils when you untie his robes, deliberately taking your time. You suppress a smile as he shifts uncomfortably.

Once you finally unbit the belt of his luxurious robe, you toss it to the side completely bypassing the worth of the material. You try to ignore the sudden shake that took over your fingers as you carefully move away his robes, revealing his finely muscled body.

His leaking cock springs up, laying against his stomach and you felt even more self-conscious by simply looking.

A small prideful smile creeps to his lips. You send him a warning glare but he seems to gain his confidence rather quickly, not missing the opportunity to gloat over your little slip-up.

He sits up, the cheeky smile never leaving his lips. “Are you enjoying yourself, my little warrior?” He taunts your previous words.

You narrow your eyes, squeezing his face between your fingers in irritation but his smirk doesn’t falter until you move your hands to your own belt. His tongue runs across his bottom lip, nearly salivating at the thought of your naked body.

You pull your dress over your head hastily revealing your naked body to the man. His gaze explores you with a starving intensity. His hands quickly reach for your flush skin but you swat them away. 

Geta is about to send you an irritated look but you are quicker, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back. 

He groans and despite his momentary surge of confidence, he doesn’t do anything to stop you but rather bites his lip to stop any embarrassing sound from escaping. 

“So spoiled.” You spit out, pulling harder on his locks.

That little motion seems to break him apart completely as a breathy moan reaches your ears.

“Do you really want me?” You murmur and he nods but that doesn't satisfy you. 

Why should it? You want to hear him beg and cry for you, swallow his pride completely under the promise of pleasure.

You yank his hair harder, making him huff in surprise louder. 

“Yes, I want you. I really want you.” He manages to say through rugged breaths. “...my lady.”

“Good.” You say and you can see something flicker in his eyes at the sudden praise. 

You let go of his hair and rest your hands on his shoulders. With a small push, you lift your bare body from his. Your hand finds his member, aligning it to your entrance and he chokes. You run his tip between your folds making both of you exhale at the feeling.

With a deep breath, you slowly sink down his length. No matter how much you try to keep quiet you simply can't. You can’t help the lewd moans at the burning sensation alongside Geta who hugs your waist, pressing his face between your breasts.

You should've pushed him away, you really tried to make yourself do it. But instead, you run your fingers through his unruly hair, the pleasure too mind-numbing for the both of you to keep up with this game. 

Geta doesn’t miss the opportunity to taste you, kissing and licking your skin hungrily. It started between your breasts, his teeth grazing your skin with every kiss.

His eagerness sends shivers down your spine and a loud moan leaves your mouth when his lips latch onto your nipple, catching it between his teeth and circling it with his tongue.

His hips buckle, drilling his cock deeper into your creamy folds. You moan loudly, grasping his shoulders.

He pauses for a moment, expecting punishment but when all you do is cry out in pleasure his lips curl, his smile mirroring one of a crazed man.

It is for the better that you don’t see the delight on his face. You would never forgive yourself after seeing the pleasure he took in seeing you like this.

Geta’s pace quickly deteriorates into something primal and desperate. Something so uncontrollable that even you couldn't stop. But even if you could, you doubt you would. 

Your nails rake his back with every forceful slam and you cry out when his tip grazes that spongy spot inside you, legs shaking in pleasure. 

“Oh! Oh— Gods!” You moan, sinking your nails into his back.

With a groan, he releases your nipple from his mouth and raises his head, his blown out eyes falling on your face.

You meet his hungry gaze but only for a second before your eyes travel to his spit-covered lips and without much thought, you grab his hair and pull him to you, slamming his lips on yours.

He doesn’t miss a beat and kisses you back with the same insatiable hunger that fills your chest.

You claw and bite and kiss him like he was your last meal. And he possibly is because once the fog of lust wears off he will surely command a public execution.

Your lips part in a silent moan, lost in bliss at the violent orgasm that just hit you harder than you’ve ever experienced. Your walls flutter around his twitching dick and he whines at the feeling. He comes with a loud moan, lips pressing against you as he spills his seed deep inside you. He pushes you close, pressing your chest against his face as you both breathe heavily.

He murmurs something against your skin but you ignore him. You will later find out that it was a quiet promise, not to you but to himself; to keep you as close as he could even if it meant stopping the following games altogether, even if it meant locking you somewhere only he could see you.

── ୨ৎ

a/n: This was a PAIN to write. I was left suffering. I hope you like it and i'm REALLY sorry for delaying this for so long! I think I had such a hard time because 1) sub!Geta feels so out of character and I tried to make this as in character for him and 2) I had no time to write cuz of all the family dinners.

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 053 - Lover! Genius HSR Men x Dumbass! Fem! Reader: What do I do with you?... ♡ ˎˊ˗

[ Veritas Ratio, Dan Heng, Aventurine, Sunday ]

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕤 ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

For most students they dread the sudden random pop quizzes on mondays and fridays; but for a certain class they feared Veritas Ratio discovering their homeworks more than the monsters hiding underneath their beds. If there is a choice between dancing with the devil in scalding hot slippers vs having Veritas see your test results— They would much rather tango with the fiend than the latter.

But what about you? You who is the apple of the genius's eyes? How about your poor soul who has that grim reaper hovering over your shoulder almost 24/7?

"My dearest darling..." Veritas sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose while glancing at your mock test results. "We have gotten over 16 of these questions atleast for 3 hours..."

Ah yes, the familiar expression he does when he's about to nag you to no ends.

"But calculus is so hard!" You whine in protest, batting your puppy eyes on him hopes it works and that the violet haired man feels weak on the knees. "Please understand that I am not born with the same godly braincells you have, your divinity!"

"...." His nose scrunches at the flattering nickname, eyebrow twitching as he attempts to resist your charms.

It's working right?... Right?

It must be!

"If it weren't for the fact you had an impeccable english essay I would be scolding you to no end" Veritas lets out another heavy sigh. "Come, I'll go over these questions once again."

This calls for a celebration, atleast he spared you— To some degree.

Veritas read multiple articles as of late pertaining to individuals who have weak academic skills, he needed to understand idiots in order to teach idiots.

And since you were one... He has to try.

Did it work?

Surprisingly?

It did.

All he needed to do was to baby down the terms and teach you the solutions and terms four times over and over until you understand and can solve the problems by yourself.

Veritas is thoroughly impressed by your effort, or maybe you're just trying hard because you're scared of getting an earful from him?

It doesn't matter.

"Hm." He hums, inspecting the set of questions he made for you to solve. "I'm impressed, dearest. You're actually smarter than I thought, we'll work on your speed for the following day— Oof!"

Veritas sputters as he felt your body suddenly jump towards him. He lost balance for quite a bit but steadied himself on a desk while his other hand instinctively grasped your back.

"Is this your attempt of seducing me not to scold you?" He says, a tinge of pink on his cheeks as he tries to prevent his lips from twitching a smile.

"No, I just want to cuddle you" You mumble, nuzzling him further.

"Ugh" Veritas complains (right, as if he's not enjoying the affection) before returning your embrace.

He reckons you must have been tired from using the best capacity of your brain to understand the complicated calculus formulas he shoved down your throat in the past three hours.

For being a good student, you need some rest due rest and affection— From him of course. Who else would?

"Good job today" Veritas praises, his voice dropping into an affectionate tone as he pressed his lips on your temple.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕟𝕘 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Dan Heng is done with life. No not really, he can't leave you, not with your grades anyway. What'll happen to you if he's not here?

He scrunches his nose a little as he sees the pathetic score on your physics quiz. If he leaves you to your own devices, you will end up repeating a grade.

Dan Heng can't have that, he plans to spend all of his schoolyears by your side.

Separation anxiety they call it.

He takes a deep and tired sigh before looking down on you who is sulking on his lap like a defeated puppy.

What is he to do with you?

With how adorable you are right now, how can he resist you?

"Lift your head up," Dan Heng gently says, petting your hair lovingly. "Let's study together, hm? It'll be... Fun"

He wasn't the type to treat studying as a game. But after tutoring his dumbass friends: Caelus, Stelle, and March— He knows just how to play along and make efforts to get someone like you to study.

If he can get those nutheads to straighten up; then you would be no different.

As mischievous as you are, you also listen to Dan heng the most.

After a few more cooing and kisses (And maybe a threat that he wont let you borrow his jacket anymore)— You finally agree to his request.

It's for your own good anyway.

Dan Heng is very patient with you, making sure to slow things down and using multiple analogies to get you to understand. Calculations are complicated in the first place, he doesn't expect you to get it right the moment he teaches you.

Having trouble recalling the basics? He'll explain it to you.

He even goes as far as teaching you some calculation techniques to help you and most importantly he is teaching you shortcuts to make everything easier for you.

Solving problems is just finding a pattern anyway, as long as you recognize it— Then the rest will come easy.

And as he expected, after a few hours of trial and error— You have finally managed to get a score of 4/5 in the practice sheet he provided.

"Not so bad, is it?" Dan Heng said in that monotone but affectionate voice of his, placing a plate of your favourite snacks down on the empty space beside you. "You're doing so well."

"I'm sorry for bothering you..." You apologize, slumping down.

"No, it's alright," The ravenette boy shook his head and kissed the top of your head out of habit, "I like studying, especially if it's with you."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better" You pout, earning a soft smile from him at how cute you are.

"I'm not" Dan Heng mumbles as his lips stayed on your head. "Let's do this more often together. I am able to focus more when you're around me"

He's really just saying that just to make you feel better. But you can't really read him even if you're both dating him.

And Dan Heng knows you're doubting him no matter how sincere he is.

It doesn't matter.

He'll just have to make a way for you to acknowledge. For now though? Dan Heng is more than satisfied to just spend his time with you like this.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔸𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Pfft...." Aventurine snorts as he sees your worksheet littered with angry red marks and the pathetic score of 12/60 for the chemistry assignment. "Kek...."

"I hate you, we're breaking up" You mumble, earning a loud laugh from the damn peacock himself.

"Baby!" Aventurine cackles, nearly falling over as he laughed while his ome hand remains in your wrist so you wont leave. "Come now, don't be so prissy. It's not really my fault you zone out during class!"

"You're supposed to comfort me!" You whine, making him laugh even more.

"This one becomes reduced and this one is oxidized, you do know the difference, right?" Aventurine points out on the paper. "Hm?"

"No..." You say shamefully, feeling more depressed at your own stupidity.

Aventurine sees your spirits dwindling down and he takes a seat on the chair before patting his lap, "Here, I'll teach you"

"No, I don't trust you" You point a finger at him.

"I got a perfect score for the worksheet" His heterochromatic eyes curve into lovely crescents, "This unit is very complicated and requires a lot of thinking and pattern recognition. It's quite easy. Trust me, yeah? I never mistreated my pretty little girlfriend before after all"

You wanted to sulk.

As mischievous and philantropic as your boyfriend is, there's no mistaking that Aventurine is part of the top students in contrast to his lax personality.

No one can really mock him with his excellent grades no matter how much they hate his guts.

In the end, you relent, perching yourself on his lap as Aventurine grabbed a spare piece of paper and a pencil. He started explaining everything from the very top and making sure you are keeping up.

You thought he would be joking really, but Aventurine is serious. He made sure to quiz you after explaining a concept just to make sure if you are able to keep up. If not, then he wouldn't make fun of you and instead gently remind you.

Chemistry is a complicated subject, even he has to double check his solutions every now and then just to make sure the calculations he did aren't wrong.

He's fine with teaching you really.

It's his duty as your boyfriend to spoil, pamper, and love you as well as making sure you aren't lacking in your studies. It's not for his pride and image, he could care less about what people think. He just doesn't want you to have a breakdown over your low scores.

If there is anything he hates more than anything, it's seeing your tears fall down when he can fix it.

And this just so happens to be something he can solve easily.

"There we go, there we go~" He praises, giving your lips a chaste kiss as a reward for doing the practice questions right. "See not so bad, is it? You just needed a bit of some guidance you silly girl"

"...Thank you" You sheepishly say, making Aventurine pause as you cuddle up to him

Even after all this time, he still becomes weak whenever you become affectionate with him.

"Ah, what ever shall I do with you!" Aventurine cuddles you even tighter, swaying you left and right over his frustration over your cuteness. "Should we go out? I'll get you a birkin and then let's eat at your favourite buffet restaurant. You've been such a good girl today, I should spoil you."

"A birkin?!" You pale, looking at him as if he has lost the screws in his head.

"Don't think I don't know how you are looking at those birkin unboxings, babe" He taps your nose lovingly with the tip of his finger. "Now let's go!"

"Aventurine!!!"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕪 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Erm... What to do...." Sunday takes a deep sigh as he sees the state of your pathetic quiz paper.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

All of it was wrong.

Biology is really quite simple, but how come you're not able to keep up?

Sigh.

"I'm sorry..." You apologize in a weak voice.

You tried your best really, you reviewed as much as you could and banged your head on the wall multiple times without the halovian man looking to try and get the terminologies and cycles right.

"No, no" Sunday immediately says, lifting your face up with his palm. "It's alright my love, there's still time. You can make it up on the test."

"But..." You sulk, and he immediately shakes his head.

"Scores are just score, we can improve them" He smiles gently, kissing your forehead. "Come sit down with me, I'll teach you."

"Sorry for bothering you" You slump down as you sat on the chair he directed you to.

"No need" Sunday keeps that kind smile on his pretty face. "Our professor is very fast on discussing stuff, it's no wonder you are struggling to keep with the lessons. He also gets sidetracked with his life stories a lot... So it's alright"

He's just trying to make you feel better, and Sunday knows you feel that way.

"Here, let's start with rna" He opens the textbook on the pages he needs.

Genetics can be quite tricky if you don't have the fundamental knowledge, so Sunday started with the basics before ramping it up steadily to the complicated terms and processes.

He made sure to take a few minutes of break for the knowledge to sink in, he even fed you some snacks to keep you energized during the long tutoring.

He himself can't help but eat while studying after all, and it proves to be an effective method since you're able to retain more terms.

He didn't doubt you for a second, nor was he impatient.

Sunday took it as slow as it can be and lets you explain back what he just taught you on the top of your head. It's better to study in repetition with biology after all. Even Robin finds his teachings effective, so of course it will work on you too.

"We'll finish for today" Sunday closes the textbook and starts cleaning up the desk you two shared. "How do you feel?"

"A little better..." You admit, leaning on his shoulder. "You're always looking after me, I feel very childish"

"I apologize, I can't help but pamper you" He rubs his head against yours while his little ear wings flutter about at the closeness between you two. "Besides, I'm also reviewing when I'm teaching you. So it's not a loss for me. Studying can be quite lonely, it's better if we do it together."

"I'll do my best on the test, I promise..." You say, earning an even lovelier smile from your lover.

"I know you will," He kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger. "Don't pressure yourself too much, just do what you can. And then after test, how about I take you out on a date? I found a really good museum to visit nearby"

"Really?" Seeing you perk up, Sunday feel even more happy— His little ear wings fluttering even more as he cant contain his excitement to spend time with you.

"Yes, winding down after studying is extremely important" He stands up and offers a hand to you, "Speaking of which, we should head down for dinner. A hearty meal is a very much deserved rewad for you on working hard today"

He always knows what to do or say. It's like Sunday has magic whenever he talks, he can easily make you forget all the sadness and guilt you had earlier for the extremely low score you had for your biology quiz.

Yes.

There is no mistaking it.

Sunday is truly the best boyfriend there is.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Another hsr post after my short break because I felt lazy and unmotivated to do anything and because I was doing hw (◞‸◟；). Figured I might as well make a study comfort fic with these smart bois hehehehe. Idk if I did Dr. Ratio well, I hope I did.... I'm going to read up more abt his charac info in the game. I've been busy building Sunda as of late so heheh... I still have to fix his planar set kek. But he is thankfully on 204% cdᕦ(ò_ó)ᕤ. He and Robin make the perfect team!!! For anyone curious, my lineup is Aventurine, Dan Heng, Robin and Sunday ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[cryptfile]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ࣪ over the moon [ benedict bridgerton x wife!reader ]

summary — based on a request but went slightly off with it aka when your husband starts to stay up painting till late you start plotting a good plan to make him go to bed with you and actually rest instead.

warnings — pure fluff, since the rumors of sophie being latina sparked, personally went crazy with the information so it’s implied that reader is latina also, mentions of sex (nothing explicit,,, implied as part of a establish relationship).

side notes — English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes i’m sorry in advance. this is for my latin girlies out here reading in tumblr, working extra hard to translate your works to bring new content to the page, tkm <3 reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated,,,as brittany broski once said: i'm a benedict bridgerton believer, i'm a benedict bridgerton ally.

You really didn’t know what you were getting into when you accepted Benedict’s marriage proposal.

Nobody told you that loving an artist is a tricky thing, cause while you’re always giving Ben’s new ideas, you hate him at the same time when he’s at the art studio until late, painting as if the absence of light it’s not enough to separate him from the canvas.

God, it just drives you crazy. He lacks of a schedule so he’s able to keep on painting till the rays of light start to appear again in the window he leaves opened all night long, and you’re afraid he’s going to catch a cold if he continues with his bad habits.

It suddenly hits him, that inspiration he ends up being the victim of, kissing you quickly as he escapes so fast you aren’t able to say anything when he disappears leaving you alone, you tolerate it at first, but the second? The third? He's just testing your patience at this point.

Your marriage has never been a troubled one, your husband does not make you mad most of the time and you enjoy being in love, those little things that made your heart skip a beat. You enjoy talking to him at night, spend your day in his art room as he encourages you to keep on writing that mystery book you're so into lately, bickering about how unfair life is for women your age — Hell, woman of all ages.

You love the sound of his laugh when he's careless about everything else, when he admits he doesn't want to go that night's party cause he just wants to stay home and fuck you senseless, his way of seeing art and explain it to you as something totally opposite as what you really think it is.

Thing is, you choose to marry Benedict Bridgerton cause you're indeed, head over heels with him. You've fall for the charming smile and sassy attitude that made you finally settle after years of being called a spinster. He finds the way to intrude the walls of the maze that was your heart and managed to plant a flag in the middle of it when you're confident enough to talk to him, let alone be seen in public after all the rumors you've heard that he was looking for a wife that season.

Even when you try to avoid him, he makes you fall in no time, following you around like a lost puppy, going to your house to spend time with your family, convincing everyone he's desperate to try the food your nana makes, cause you've talked about how good it taste all the time.

It's almost like he tricked you into make you love him, to have you between the brushes dipped in a funny smell water. He has you hooked by the first months and soon after? God, he has no education when he makes you love him, how he obliges you to stain yourself with all the things he was his daily life mixed with yours functioning so well.

It's a thorn nailed in the palm of your hand, those moments of privacy when the moon evolves you and your lover completely that are now being taken away. It's selfish, surely it's something childish so you don't want to say anything to your friends, or even Daphne Basset when she visits you to have an afternoon of tea free from her kids, asking you about how everything's going days before you came up with this great idea.

You can take the matter by your hands, that's why the next time Benedict's painting at midnight your mind works like a machine.

After all the time together you happen to know him more than you know yourself, the things he enjoys what he dislikes the most — So it's not very hard to plot against your husband.

Benedict doesn't seem to hear you when you silently glide through the half-open door, unaware as the light of the candle lights is not enough to illuminate the whole room, the fire he kept close to the canvas he was currently working on. He looks handsome all concentrated. His brows furrowed as he takes the pigments with his bare hands and mix them in his wood palette to get that exact color he was looking for. A shade of pink for a piece he hasn't shown you officially yet.

"What are you doing up so late?" you ask coyly when you are close to him, hearing how his breath hitched for a second before noticing it's you, your hands coming from behind just to intrude in his space close to the easel. He's taller than you, but it doesn't stop you from standing in your tiptoes, pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck as you hugged him.

You cannot hide that you're tired. You lost the track of time when you got out of bed, so when you have your husband close and finally smell that nice and subtle aroma he carries with him, you relax in his back, the sound of his heartbeat loud against your ear.

"You scared me for a second," he says with a grin, muscles relaxing under your touch. "Didn't hear you coming in."

He has dry paint on his neck, so while you're cleaning his skin with one hand, he leans into you, back pressed against your chest seeking for your warmth, that contact he always seems to enjoy, your attention in all the ways he can get it.

“Bed’s cold without you” you say, fingers on his recently trimmed hair. "Done waiting for'you."

He has the nerve to laugh at your words, slowly at first, the sound of it making your skin shiver. He's going to defend his choices, you know it, and you hate how much you enjoy it, the way he always seems to find an excuse making you totally offended as you retort something equally ridiculous.

"Just thirty more minutes I promise," he says pressing a kiss in the palm of your hand he so gently grabs. "If you stay with me like this, can do the work in twenty."

"You can fool anyone else with that Ben, not buying it" to be honest, you're just trying to contradict everything he says, far from what you thought doing first when you plotted against him. "You said the same last week, amor. Not falling for any more lies."

"Not falling huh?" he asks, lowering the wood palette to look at you, his eyes meeting yours when you're so comfortable pressing your chin on his shoulder, looking at the painting he was doing — "You've learned the lesson then?"

"Twenty more minutes mean an hour in Benedict's language," he's the one that's now offended when his mouth opens in disbelief "Turns out I know my husband, and we both know that’s way more than twenty minutes.”

He loves it. It’s almost a secret, but he loves how you demand his company, the way you don’t fold against anything and you stand for what you believe. He loves how you claim to know him, your lavender smell filling every single space available in the room as he smiles happily in response. He was so unsure of marrying you at first, but now he doesn’t know what his life would look like without you in the picture.

“Ah, I’m guilty as charge” he says, his own hand going to his chest like it saddens him to hear you talk like that. “Thought you wanted me to paint more.”

You've been encouraging him to show his art to more people, a small gallery that displayed his talent, but that’s using your words for his advantage.

“You little bastard, that’s unfair coming from you.”

“Woah woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Kiss you even” you stick your tongue out, and he’s suddenly turning you around to place a kiss in your forehead, making you move in front of him instead — “You wouldn’t even imagine.”

Benedict’s a romantic. A poet at heart, so he doesn’t let any opportunity slip to show his affection, his infinite devotion to you. His heart flutters in his chest and suddenly he’s kissing you, staining your white nightgown with the fresh paint of his hands and not caring about it at the slightest. Kisses you like he missed you, like he didn’t see you the whole day when in reality you’ve spent all day in the same house, baking cookies cause you’ve suffered from a burst of love to the kitchen.

“You’re not convincing me” you say between kisses, hands pressing you closer to him. “I’m not leaving this room without you.”

He chuckles at your words — “Not even ten minutes?”

He’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes you stare at him, wonder what you did to make him so interested in you, so attracted to the point he has to marry you.

"No Bridgerton. Ni diez minutos." To be honest, the accent just makes him go weak at the spot. It's pathetic, but he cannot help it, his brain melts at the sound of your voice, even if he doesn't understand much of what you're saying. "Let's go to bed."

You know it's a weapon, your lips are on his face, and he forgets about everything else: How he's supposed to continue on working when your lips are kissing every inch of his face? Seems like an impossible task now that his hands are on your waist and all he can notice are your pink lips, how you're looking at him through half-lidded eyes cause you're sleepy, an smile that eclipses the rest.

Benedict's no longer worried of his painting. Hell, he cannot seem to remember what shade of pink he was so invested in finding before, but he don't care at all when he's the one now leaning in, kissing you with fervent love as he traces the outline of your lips, almost asking for permission to invade you before deepening the contact, tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair cause he simply cannot get enough from you.

"Take me to bed then, my beautiful wife."

He does not protest next. He loves every second of it, the slight force, your gentle touch when your guiding him through the cottage you two share in Wiltshire, the goosebumps in his own skin when you managed to get what you want.

You win. It's a war that Benedict never intended to win, a disaster he knew it would end up with the result of him leaving his work half done cause he cannot resist to the idea of being tangled with you in such an intimate way. He sleeps so well with you on his arms, burying his head on your hair as he relaxes beneath the sheets, the contact of your skin enough to make him have the best night sleep.

Can he resist it? He's neck deep. Talked about it with his brothers before, drinking too much as the words slurred together and he admits how you got him wrapped around your finger, so in love he would do anything to please you, let alone have your full attention — They surely made fun of him, but is it his fault? Being so in love with his wife?

"Can't say no to you," he says defeated "You know it."

In the privacy of the room you two share, you're washing his hands with a wet cloth, preventing him from getting the sheets dirty before pulling his linen shirt to the floor. It's so quickly, he don't seem to realize what you're doing until he's already in bed, covered with the thick duvet as he searches for you.

He realizes now he should have listened to you before, cause his back is surely happy now that he's able to rest, the weariness of being standing so many hours now falling over him as his eyes began to close by themselves.

"When are you going to stop working so late?" You ask, pressing your cheek against his chest as you hugged him, getting closer to him even when you stole more than half of the bed in the process. The second son of the Bridgerton family does not say anything about it, but instead, enjoys how needy you are of his touch, how you want him around.

"Inspiration always come late, angel" he tries to defend himself as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’s a curse.”

"Then i’m afraid i’ll have to drag you to bed every night," you protest. "Cause i'm not letting you stay all night in that studio, crazy man."

"Miss me too much in bed?"

"Hm, what if I do?"

"Cannot blame you," Benedict admits later, using the only traces of force he has left to caress your hair, fingertips against your scalp in a gentle massage. "I'm always missing you when you're not around."

Your heart skips a beat: How could you not be head over heels with this man? He always find the right words, what to say exactly.

Gently, your face come up to press a soft kiss against his lips, a quick one that’s not enough for Benedict when he makes you stay in the same position as he steals a much longer one.

Life is simple with him by your side, you know it cause you might as well be over the moon when you’re alone with Benedict Bridgerton.

Every. single. day.

my masterlist.

[ohmyenjolrass]

take a chance on me | charlie dalton x fem!reader

summary: charlie dalton is obsessed with you and he mans up to ask you out on a date. you are secretly in love with him, but you can tell his intentions almost immediately.

pairings: charlie dalton x fem!reader

word count: 0.5k

warnings: none, but welton is a boys and girls school.

n/a: i was really looking forward to write something with charlie, and i am so excited for this one. i really hope you enjoy it. feel free to request anything! as always, english is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, sorry in advance x

masterlist :)

"i'm gonna ask her out", charlie repeated for the thousandth time, staring at you from the other side of the common room.

"yeah, right.", knox teased him. "you always say the same thing but you never really do it."

"and also, what if y/n doesn't like you back?", wondered neil.

but charlie's ego was too big to break like that. and also, he had noticed how your eyes fixated on him when he wasn't looking, so, at least, you were interested in him.

"you can mock me all that you want, but i am going to do it.", charlie said, as he stood up. the rest of his friends stared at him in disbelief, with their mouths open.

you saw him approaching your group of friends and returned your sight to your latin homework, playing dumb. you knew your friends couldn't tell, but your heart rate was alarmingly fast as charlie was closer.

"hey, girls", he greeted you and your friends. "do you mind if i steal y/n from you one sec?"

you knew charlie wasn't asking for permission, he hardly ever did, so you stood up, closing your notebook. "what is it, charlie?"

"just a thing i wanted to ask you. come with me?"

you followed him to the corridor, which was empty, and waited for him to start talking. you and charlie weren't exactly friends, but you liked him. he was funny, and smart, and didn't have any problems to cause some trouble in school. he was also devastatingly charming, and every single girl in school would agree on that.

"so...", he started. "how was your day?"

"did you actually dragged me out of the common room to ask me about my day?", you laughed.

charlie fidgeted with the collar of his school shirt. "actually i wanted to ask you something."

"ask away, i'm not gonna bite you.", you said, jokingly.

"i was wondering if you had any plans this friday evening.", charlie said, and you flustered to your ears. your cheeks were so warm you even wondered if it was possible to be that red.

don't be an idiot, y/n. come on, woman up, you thought.

"um, no. i don't think so. why?"

"would you like to go out? like, with me?", he asked, and you could tell that he was blushing too. it was a rare sight to see charlie dalton blushing, but it was a very cute one.

"sure, yeah.", you replied, your hands trembling. you couldn't believe that. "anything planned?"

"i thought we could go to the cinema? if you're up to it."

"yeah. i love the movies.", a weird silence formed between the two of you, both too happy to say anything. then, you cleared your throat. "so, friday, 6pm?"

"perfect. i'll pick you up on your dorm."

you nodded, going back into the common room. a few moments later, charlie entered too, sitting with his friends. you could see his face between todd's and meeks' shoulders. he noticed you staring and winked at you. you lowered your head back to your homework.

and friday couldn't come fast enough.

[ghostgirl101]

Hi! I saw you did a obsessed oliver quick, would you consider doing the same for felix catton?

Dating Felix Catton Would Be Like This...

A/N: I would absolutely consider it, and here you are 😎 also if anyone has any oneshot ideas for Oliver or any of the other Saltburn guys then drop them in my inbox, I wouldn't mind writing a proper imagine scenario for them too 📩 next up is more Oliver Quick stuff anyways, so go crazy. Also, why did I find this kind of hard to write? Maybe I'm just used to Oliver's craziness and not this pretty little aristocrat's 🙃

🍾• Contrary to Oliver, Felix's type of obsession would be less murderous and delusional, more realistic, kind of vain... he's a Catton, a rich boy everyone knows and loves, who wants to be him or be with him. He's used to getting his way, learning new things about people until they get boring or get on his nerves, and then life goes on.

🍾• Not this time.

🍾• You'd meet at Oxford, either by coincidence, or by getting in with his clique of friends somehow. Chances are you helped him out on a test or covered for him in a class, and so he calls you over in recognition next time he sees you, to hang out with him and Farleigh and the rest.

🍾• There's something about you that gets the pretty aristocrat interested. Maybe it's just your charisma, your beauty, some definition that makes up you. You're different from his other friends, don't follow the crowd, have a different mind, a worldview he doesn't get. And he likes it.

🍾• So prepared to be hounded with questions over a drink at the pub after classes, all curious but friendly eyes following yours as you summarise yourself, your background, your ambitions. And what are his? Well, he lives in a beautiful estate with his high-class family, goes to Oxford because he can... I never really saw that he made any plans for himself in the film, so my guess is that he's not all that bothered about it. He's got money, he's got connections, he'll do what he wants, like always... so long as it meets the Catton expectations.

🍾• Assuming you don't have the same outrageous luxuries as Felix does, he wouldn't see the need to impress you or get your attention at first, because his status is a given around school and everyone's after him. But if you're not the same as the other girls who crowd around him when they're given a good enough chance, he'll find himself keeping on calling you over, wanting you around for your input on things they do.

🍾• Probably shows off his wealth - unknowingly or not - by buying you something for an unnecessarily high price, like a designer fountain pen when yours runs out in English, and he'll shrug and smirk softly, because it's nothing, don't worry about it.

🍾• Farleigh will undoubtedly be interested in you, but I see him warming up to you instead of being mocking and sceptical like he was with Oliver. Probably because you give off a lot better vibes than Ollie, and treat his friends like normal people, not tiptoeing and aweing of them because they're all rich and popular, but getting on as well as you can. There's something special about you that Felix saw to try pulling you into his circle, so you don't have to do anything but be yourself.

🍾• And when the summer break does come by, you're invited to Saltburn with his closest; a dazzling, rare invitation from the young Catton himself, probably away from others in a nice spot around campus. He'll give you his charming smile and warm eyes as he tells you to come along with them, that his mum will like you because you're beautiful, and that he really wants you there.

🍾• Expecting you to go all squealy and eager with a dozen yeses - if you can manage it, hold that all down to give him a nod and a shrug with a light smile as you agree calmly and casually instead, because that's a whole new response he'd never expect from any lucky person he shows an interest in. How come you're not falling all over him like the whole of Oxford does just by him being there?

🍾• You'll definitely be showered with attention at Saltburn. Elspeth will marvel over your complexion or your eyes or your hair or your outfit (or all of the above). Venetia will probably be grateful to have someone around who has a proper personality that she can talk to and will make friends with you fairly easily.

🍾• You'll catch onto Felix's jealousy over the attention you get pretty quickly, because he doesn't even try to be subtle about it. He'll just shamelessly approach you and complain in his own way that you're his guest, and he brought you here so you two could hang out. His sister's annoying, Farleigh's a troublemaker, so you should probably just stick around him, right? Makes sense, doesn't it?

🍾• Sure it does, Felix.

🍾• He's a nice guy really, kindhearted and sweet enough, but at the end of the day, the world is his to play with, and so are its people. He just needs to understand that you're not a toy... you're an individual, and so if it's going to be anything like his other "relationships" where he gets bored and leaves them to it without a second thought, you're not interested.

🍾• Which is all shock and horror for Felix Catton, because is this really what a proper relationship means? Proper thought and feeling 24/7, staying with that one person instead of having flings with whoever whenever he feels like it?

🍾• So just give him a hot minute to sulk about it over there while you have a good time with his other friends and Venetia, because the more he sees you hanging around with others and being true to yourself, adjusting to Saltburn's black-tie standards but not letting it shape or belittle you, Felix has to actually realise that he hasn't got a whole lot of depth or meaning to his life if it doesn't involve you somehow, in the closeness that he wants and needs it.

🍾• Okay. Convinced. He'll give it a shot.

🍾• I think that Felix would expect it to be difficult for him, because he's used to his carefree, no-strings-attached game of life instead of anything serious. But it'd come easier than he'd think. Other people just don't interest him as much as you, simply because they're not you. They don't have the same little... thing. Girls trip over his feet and cling to him, everyone wants to be his mate, to try to fit into his rich lifestyle, but you do it all effortlessly, and it's puzzling.

🍾• And so hot

🍾• Felix would be casual and open with PDA, since everyone will come to grips with the two of you being an item after you've been dating for over the span of a few solid days. An arm slung around your shoulder, messing with your hair with a fond, teasing look, linked fingers under the table. Nine out of ten times, he'll beat you to it and reach out to you first, because whatever he says, there's a needy boy in him somewhere 😏

🍾• This guy was a complete playboy before you, so needless to say, when you're getting real close, Felix has a pretty good grasp of what he's doing, and he'll do it right. Petnames too, of course, Surprisingly - but unsurprisingly - things like darling and beautiful, but he'd probably try to make a nickname out of your name and shorten it to give you one, finding it funny if you give him a mildly annoyed and amused look because it sounds weird.

🍾• He'll be all bright eyes and grinning proudly as he takes you to his parties, to have dinner with his parents, who get on with you wonderfully, because you're polite but not a suck-up like everyone else, and can hold a good conversation with them while looking over their shallow spins on things.

🍾• Honestly though, from what I saw of Elspeth, she made me laugh out loud a good couple of times from watching, so being friends with his mum wouldn't be a bad thing at all. And Felix would like to see you getting along with his family, because it just proves that you're a perfect fit, like he knew you were.

🍾• You'd make a friend for life in Venetia if you tried to comfort and genuinely help her with her insecurities and problems, not play her like the rest... I felt so bad for her tbh

🍾• You'll never want any material thing ever again, because his money can buy pretty much anything you want. I'm pretty sure his family would give you some kind of allowance when you're serious with Felix anyway, since they can see it in him that he's serious about you too, and the whole relationship is a great step he's made in his life. Any financial support you need, you've got it. Don't even mention liking the look of something in a shop window, because chances are you won't get the item, you'll part-own the store 😭

🍾• So, basically, you don't just get a gorgeous young aristocrat who finds every little unique, original thing about you fascinating and attractive, you get the whole of Saltburn as your second home. Just try to make friends with Duncan, and you'll probably get all the dirt on them too lmao- he'd get on better with you than he did with Oliver anyway, since he apparently was the first and only one in the household to realise that there was something off about Oliver.

🍾• Ohhh, and if we're getting to the twisted-up subject of Oliver Quick...

🍾• Let's just say that it could go two ways. Either he'll be obsessed with the both of you, and treat you the same way he treats Felix, looking up to him with intense, wide ocean green eyes, shadows after him in the hallways after dark. Or, once he's done destroying Felix... his obsessive, delusion-spiked gaze will flick straight over to you.

🍾• Either way, steer clear, that's all I can tell you.

[rapilne]

-Ice Cold

beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings: sub!beomgyu, sex (?) this contains smut, not proofread, MDNI, beomgyu pov-ish

a/n: no summary cause i couldn't tell you what this is about. this is my first time writing anything like this, i wrote it on my notes so im not sure how many words there are, i think too many, this is without a doubt too long, pls bear with me. also english is not my first language, if something doesn't make sense well idk figure it out pretty pls, thankssss 🫶

--

"she's my girlfriend," beomgyu said, his expression a mask of utter sincerity.

his words hung in the air, the silence filled with unspoken questions. 

yeonjun squinted at him, scrutinizing his face before glancing at taehyun then back at him. "so, you're saying… you have like a crush on her?"

an exasperated sigh escaped beomgyu. “what? no," he protested "i mean, yes? ” he closed his eyes and said slowly “no… it’s like i said it. she’s my girlfriend for real.”

the weight of his words hanged heavily and his friends remained speechless, drinks on their hands and stares like daggers. beomgyu shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do to stop them from looking at him like that.

"i just don't understand what's so surprising about it," he muttered, a pout forming on his lips.

—

choi beomgyu had always been the epitome of charisma. from his looks to his charm, whether he stepped into a crowded room or sauntered down a bustling street, all eyes gravitated toward him.

he was well-known and well-liked everywhere he went: university corridors, guitar lessons, basketball practice, even the corner store near his apartment. everyone is positively drawn in by his undeniable charm.

he likes to think he got that from his mother.

naturally, beomgyu thrives on the attention. the way people's faces lit up upon his arrival was a like drug he couldn't resist. 

specially when he is so used to getting his way. never in a malicious or manipulative way, it was jut that asking was usually all it took to always obtaining whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it.

so, all things considered, he'd never struggled to draw the attention of those he found attractive. one could almost say he had his pick of the litter.

that is the reason why setting his sights on you should be the most foolish thing beomgyu has ever done in his entire existence. and yet, there he was, unable to resist the pull.

from the first time he met you, in his advanced music business class, it was as though you existed in a world entirely apart from his own. not responding to any of his advances honestly threw him off but he tried to look past it attributing it to a fleeting lapse or perhaps an uncharacteristic bad mood on your part.

but after you acted the same way the next time he tried talking to you, and the next, and the next, he couldn’t help but take it personally. 

he soon realized it wasn't merely a matter of wounded ego. from the very first meeting, he had mustered his most charming smile just for you. after all, he thought you might just be the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life, and after just a few classes, he realized you were also one of the smartest people he knew. everything about you seemed to get his attention, like you were the main character in a movie he couldn't take his eyes off of.

so, whyy you, out of everyone, had to be the one to give him the cold shoulder like that? why couldn’t he just like someone who liked him back?

either way, he soon came to find out thanks to his seat mate jun that your behavior was not uncommon.

he couldn't shake off the words his friend had offered in consolation: "don't sweat it, she's like that with pretty much everyone."

of course, in true beomgyu fashion, he couldn't help but sweat it. 

he did pick up on your vibe—not shy at all, like he thought at first, but definitely serious and reserved— but he wasn't accustomed to blending in with the crowd like that; being treated like “pretty much everyone” didn't sit right with him. 

"it's all so high school," jun chuckled, shaking his head. "but people actually call her the ice queen.”

now it seems like getting on your good side might be a task for the gods.

good thing he is known for always getting what he wants.

— 

taking a sip of boba should never be this unpleasant. except that time he ordered matcha when he meant taro, beomgyu's boba runs are always a particularly happy time. right now though, it isn’t going so well. especially when yeonjun goes "you’re fucking lying," for what must be the seven-hundredth time.

“i only lied when i told you that mesh shirt you’re wearing was a look.”

the older gasps, "take that back."

beomgyu then stands up and looks at the counter. there are only a couple of tapioca pearls left on his drink and he thinks he might ask for some more. are tapioca pearls refills allowed in this place? he doesn’t think they’re allowed anywhere, but he might as well ask.

throwing a pointed look at yeonjun—who still looks mildly offended—taehyun tries again. "when did that even happen, beomgyu?"

entirely unfazed, he stirs his drink lazily and sits back down. "i only have like two tapioca pearls left."

"he’s talking about boba because he’s lying." yeonjun scoffs and beomgyu thinks he might punch him any second now.

"look, I don’t know what’s so unbelievable about me and Y/N being together when-"

"Y/N and me," taehyun cuts him off.

"huh?"

taehyun takes a slow sip of his drink before explaining. "the correct way to say it is ‘Y/N and me,’ not ‘me and Y/N.’ though, technically, it depends on the context of the sentence. like, both are grammatically correct, but ‘Y/N and me’ is considered mo-"

"what on actual fucking earth are you talking about?" beomgyu stares at him

"i'm talking about the proper structure of-"

“that is literally not important!” yeonjun interrupts them both with a loud voice, “can we please stay on topic? why are you lying about y/n being your girlfriend beomgyu?”

beomgyu glares at yeonjun, throwing his straw to the trashcan right next to them. they came in quite late to the boba shop and didn’t get the best table.

“for the millionth time, yeonjun, i’m not lying!” he says with wide eyes. “what is it that you want? i can call her right now, put her on speaker and asker to tell you how much she likes me, yeah?”

yeonjun narrows his eyes at him, suspicious. “do it.”

“you’re fucking kidding me-“ 

the door chimes and the older’s attention is momentarily taken by the sound. beomgyu takes advantage of it and quickly sizes yeonjun's cup only to realize his mistake too late and have the matcha flavor assaulting his taste buds.

he chokes back a gag and it’s impossible for taehyun to not roll his eyes. he appears to be the only one inmune to beomgyu’s charm, consequences of their close friendship.

yeonjun’s laughter fills the air once he realizes what happened. “that’s what you get,“ he says.

“how can you drink that?”

“matcha is tasty,” yeonjun shrugs.

“matcha is a gross,” beomgyu retorts, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“the way you are just unwilling to talk about it makes me think that yeonjun might be onto something,” taehyun looks up at him propping his chin on his hand.

“why would i lie about me being in a relationship with someone?”

“that's what we want to know stupid," yeonjun says mockingly. "actually, why do you do half the thing you do?”

“yeonjun stop,” taehyun he says and then looks at this other friend, “beomgyu, it is not really about you being in a relationship. it is about with who.”

“what’s is wrong with y/n?” he asks with a pout on his lips.

“oh nothing,” yeonjun scoffs. “except everyone says she is quite literally a bi-“

"watch it, yeonjun,.” beomgyu cuts him off coldly with a hint of seriousness in his tone that wasn’t there before

yeonjun raises his eyebrows, frankly surprised "i was just going to say she's quite literally a big fan of not making friends,” he finishes instead, eyes wide.

taehyun intervenes swiftly, sensing the tension rising. "beomgyu," he began way softer that the other two, "i'm not doubting your feelings, but we kind of know y/n's reputation. she's known for being... distant, self-centered even. i just don't want to see you get hurt because you're too trusting."

taehyun's words struck a chord with beomgyu, but before he could respond, yeonjun chimed in, his voice filled with remorse. "he's right, gyu," he admits, a hint of regret on his tone. “and i'm sorry about before. but still, you need to be careful. y/n... people have tried to get close to her before, and it hasn't gone well."

beomgyu's heart sank at yeonjun's words with the weight of their implications settling heavily on him.

"look," he begins, "y/n is different, okay? she's not like anyone else i've ever met. and maybe i haven't been completely open about it because... because i know how you guys get. but i mean it when i say i’ve known her like other people haven’t. she is amazing”

there's a pause as beomgyu searches for the right words," she's nothing like that ‘ice queen’ corny, nonsense everyone is always talking about. I just wish you guys would give her a chance."

as the trio leave the place, beomgyu sips on his refilled boba. turns out they definitely don’t do refills, but of course the staff made an exception. “just for you,” they’d said.

he even got a new straw.

—

“and that’s my problem how?” you ask with straight expression.

the girl in front of you stumbles over her words, her voice quivering as she tries to play it off with a quiet laugh. "i-i’m not saying it's your problem," she began cautiously. "but, like, your signature could totally convince mr. yang to extend the due date. if we all get on board, he'd have to at least consider it. please?”

"no," you reply.

“what?" she blinks, caught off guard. "i mean, i’m sorry?" 

leaning back, taking a sip of your iced coffee, you return your gaze to your book. “you’re good,” you say in an almost nonchalant tone. "i’d just rather not be disturbed while i’m reading.”

"i'm not apologizing to you!" she snaps before taking a deep breath. "i just—why not? it literally doesn’t hurt you at all to sign? we really need your help y/n. it will even give you more time to finish your own stuff.”

"already finished it,” you say, not even making eye contact.

she lets out a surprised squeak, but recovers quickly.

"well, i guess that's cool for you," she mutters. " but we really need your signature or mr. yang won't even look at the petition.” 

nothing from your part.

mr. yang was a no-nonsense professor who smelled of tobacco and liked to look at everyone over his glasses as to remind you he is much more smarter than you. he hands out tough tasks, but always provides the necessary materials to complete them. though you weren't his favorite student, and he certainly wasn't your favorite teacher, you excelled in his class, meeting his high expectations. but you worked hard to get things done.

"look,” she tries one more time, “i know you're really smart, but some of us are really… struggling.“ she sighs sadly. ”it's taking forever to get through the text he sent, you know? if we all, like, come together and help each other out, we could totally make it happen. team effort. what do you say?"

once again she was met with silence.

"y/n?"

anna, the heroine in your book, seems genuinely tormented and you’re really starting to feel bad for her. if only she didn’t chose the red door. the blue door was the obvious right choice, but she decided to be adventurous. now, she will probably die. can vampires die? of course they can, you remember. for example, in twilight, you have to cut them in little pieces and-

"hello?! earth to y/n?" you hear a loud voice in front of your face.

you glance up. right, the ‘help us change the due date’ girl from your class. can’t really say you remember her name. 

“you're still here?" you ask flatly. can people get any more annoying? 

"oh my god, seriously?!" she practically yells this time. "i can't believe you're such a bitch!"

suddenly, and before things could escalate further, beomgyu steps in, appearing from around the hallway "whoa, why are we yelling" he asks, his guitar hanging on his shoulder. “what's going on?”

he could hear the shouting from a distance, but the details were lost to him.

on the other hand, you think beomgyu looks exceptionally good today. his dark, long hair framing his beautiful face, and eyes so deep and brown, pouty lips, you can not wait to get him alone…

"hey, beomie," you greet him with a smile. "nothing much. ready to leave?"

you've been waiting for him to finish his composition class. your own class got cut short, and you were ready to head home, but beomgyu insisted on spending the rest of the day with you, asking if you could wait for his class to end.

there's someone you can't say no to, and that's choi beomgyu, you've come to realize.

without waiting for an answer, you toss your book into your bag, grab your iced coffee, and take his hand, leading him towards the exit. your classmate watches you with wide eyes, speechless with incredulity. beomgyu glances back a little confused, offering her an apologetic smile and a quick wave as if to to smooth things over.

once outside, hand in hand, beomgyu asks carefully, "what was that?"

"oh, nothing at all,” you brush it off.

"she seemed mad," he remarks, and you stop in your tracks, making him stumble a little.

"did she? i didn't notice," you say, teasingly. "but i did notice i haven't kissed you yet."

with a playful glint in your eyes, you reach up and gently pull him down by the collar of his shirt, closing the distance between you as your lips meet in a slow, lingering kiss. beomgyu sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer.

"you're the sweetest," he whispers against your lips, screaming girls all forgotten.

—

“look at this video i took on saturday,” hao leans over the table to show a clip to beomgyu as they sit with a couple of his classmates at the uni cafe. beomgyu recognizes the place on the video as the han river, and the performers on the clip as a dance team yeonjun showed him before.

“oh, i know them!” he says with a big smile, “they’re sooo good. don’t you think they should be like performing on music videos or something?”

“they should,” hao agrees. “i’ve seen them on tiktok though, and they’re making really big numbers.”

“oh shit, yeah, me too! i keep telling y/n to come with me to see them whenever yeonjun tells me they have a showcase.”

this caught the attention of gina, a girl from his music production class “i’m sorry, but i still can't believe you're with her, gyu.” she remarks shaking his head incredulously. 

beomgyu looks up from his phone to give her a questioning look, “what?”

“ah, she’s right” hyunjin says next to them through bites of his ham sandwich, "i mean, she's smoking hot, but she's also a total ice queen."

beomgyu rolls his eyes. "not the high school nicknaming, please” he says irritated “she is not an ice anything, you calling her that is cringe. and i’ll have you know she is really sweet, actually.”

"sweet? seriously, beomgyu?" hyejin chimed in, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "every time i've tried talking to her, she acts like i don't even exist."

“sh-“

"yeah, and remember when she snapped at mark for accidentally bumping into her? it was like she thought she was too good to even say sorry."

“but-“ 

"and what about that time she ignored seungmin’s text asking for help with the assignment? she could have at least replied!”

beomgyu's heart sank as he listened to his friends.

“remember last week? what she did to lila? the stuff with the signatures? honestly, she is such a bitch sometimes…”

before beomgyu could respond, you happened to walk past their table, expression colder than usual. hearing only part of the conversation and misinterpreting it, you shot beomgyu a hurt look, assuming he was trash talking you, and quickly walked away without a word.

"great, now she thinks we're all talking behind her back," gina mutters with her eyes flicking nervously toward you as you walk off.

beomgyu stands up abruptly, “you know what? that’s exactly why she doesn’t get close to any of you,” he says, voice low but firm. “you all love to run your mouths, but when it comes down to it, you can’t even look at her in the eyes. don’t talk about her like that again. if i hear it once more, i swear i won’t just walk away.”

glaring at all of them, he turns sharply, striding out of the café without a word. outside, he quickens his pace, determined to catch up to you and make things right before it's too late.

—

the doorbell rings incessantly, echoing through the hallway as beomgyu refuses to give up. he followed you from the school building to your apartment, his apologies relentless, his determination evident in every step, but despite his efforts, you continued to ignore him.

now in front of your door, beomgyu knows he's pushing it, but the thought of you hating him now drives him crazy. with each ring of the doorbell, he feels a surge of desperation, making him want to rip all his hair out. 

ringing the bell and knocking on the door with urgency, he's fully aware that he's risking disturbing the neighbors, they may even call the police.

but beomgyu will risk going to jail for you, he thinks.

the door suddenly swings open with a sharp smack, and you're finally standing there "knock it off!" you yell with frustration evident in your voice.

despite you glaring at him, he’s just glad to see your face.

"i'm sorry," beomgyu blurts out, his words coming out in a rush. “but i am sorry you had to listen to that, not sorry because i was agreeing with them or anything, because i didn’t. i swear i didn’t. i was actually telling them how amazing and sweet you are- i always do, you know that. they’re not even my friends anymore! i ended things with them i let them know- oh fuck, i always talk about how perfect you are, how you’re the best person i’ve ever met in my life, and i'm just-god, i’m just so lucky to have you! you don’t understand, i need you to know that! i love you more than anything, and i don’t care what anyone else says, i don’t care what they think because you’ve always been nothing but good to me, and i’m not gonna let them make you think otherwise"

his words spill out in a jumbled mess, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable.

you stare at beomgyu, your expression neutral, as his words hang in the air between you. his eyes search yours desperately and, for a moment, he thinks he might have finally pushed you too far, that his rambling confession may have been a mistake.

but then, without warning, you break the tension with two simple words. "come in," you say.

relief floods beomgyu's features as he exhales a shaky breath, the weight lifting from his shoulders. without hesitation, he steps through the doorway, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him.

—

an hour or two passed and now beomgyu is sitting right in front of you, in your bed, with red cheeks in anticipation. 

“beomie, do you think i’m a bitch?” you ask with a teasing pout on your lips.

“no! no, no, no i don’t” he responds, looking up at you with puppy eyes, long lashes and a slight frown on his face

“correct,” you concede, putting his hair behind his ear softly “you were dying for me to even look at you, beomie, so i did. how can i be a bitch when i give all you the attention you so desperately beg from me?”

beomgyu exhales, clearing his throat to prevent himself for making any noise. you look down at him, his dark hair, indolent eyes and pouting lips. so pretty, just for you.

“answer me.” 

“you’re not, you are so good to me, you’re always so good to me.” he whines, but somehow his voice gets lower. aching to touch you, but keeping his hands on his side, just like he was told.

"that's right" you move down, slowly positioning yourself to straddle his lap. he feels the heat of your body against him, every movement making him burn with anticipation “i’m so good to you…” you concede as you tap him to lift his hips and reach out with confident fingers taking his pants off. you pause halfway, though. a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "but, do you deserve it, beomie?" you ask, your tone laced with mock concern.

beomgyu's breath escapes him in rapid bursts, too stunned to speak, but he knows better than not to answer you.

“no..” he chockes out “i don’t deserve it, don’t deserve you.”

“you’re right, you don’t deserve any of it,” you remind him, “good thing i’m so wonderful and sweet right?” you mock as you shove the rest of his pants down and underwear down in a quick motion. 

his cock comes up against his stomach, twitchy and veiny and your mouth is watering at the sight in front of you, wanting nothing more than for him to cum down your throat. but today is not the day.

beomgyu chews down hard on his lip and closes his eyes at the feeling of you liberating his length. he’s always been too sensitive, but with you he feels like it’s always the first time.

“open your eyes, beomie,” you tell him. “i want you to see and remember what you have to be grateful for.”

he opens his eyes in an instant just for him to watch you kneel down and slowly wrap your mouth around his tip. he sucks in a a hiss and let’s out a groan when you draw your lips with a light pressure down his cock until he hits the back of your throat, only to come back up and leave a trail of saliva along the way.

“fuuck,” he lets out with a trembling breath. “oh my god”

you put him on your mouth again and swirl your tongue around him, he hits the start of your throat once again and slide up and down, up and down. you wrapped your lips around his tip one more time before running the flat of your tongue up his cock slowly as you stare directly into his eyes,

beomgyu is a mess of flushed skin and teary eyes and can’t stop whimpering at the feeling and sight of you using your mouth on him, he swallows, throat dry and bites his bottom lip to prevent him from spluttering nonsense.

“i don- don’t know if i can- fuuuck- i- i can’t.. can’t hold it, fuck y/n , you’re so- so good to me-“ 

with his hands on your hair loosing himself to the feeling of your mouth on him, you can’t help but moan on his cock as you can already taste his pre-cum on your tongue, threatening to spill past your lips. you take you mouth off of him. “beomie, don’t cum yet-“ you say between licks, before spitting on him, lubricating and using your hand instead “- baby, hold it in, not yet.”

“i- i can’t, i can’t” he cries and you stop, his chest going up and down aggressively before lifting his face to look at you. lips red and shinny from biting hard and cheeks rosy from all the pleasure. you think he has never look this pretty.

he sits up trembling, looking at you you slide your drenched panties off. then you straddle his lap once again, looking at his red erection up and proud, tip right at your entrance, and without any warning, you take his cock in your hand go down on him inch by inch, his arms coming around your torso in desperation as you hold yourself up wrapping yours around his neck, holding each other so close you could feel eachother’s heartbeat.

you completely sink down on him and you both gasp, automatically making you clench around him.

“fuuck, baby” beomgyu hissed. his hands coming down to your waist to keep you in place, he’s afraid he would cum in a second if you moved an inch. “don’t move, please”

so, you raised your hips and you both let out a breathy moan as you sat back down again. he whines.

“you can do it beomie, hold it baby” you purr in his mouth. repeating the action again and again. “don’t you want me to fuck you?” 

“ye- yes please,- fuuuck yes” he cries, holding you close. always eager to please, he lets you do as you want. obeying you just in time for him to become a whimpering mess.

it was embarrassing, really, how affected he got in literal seconds. and you, with the sensation of having his cock filling you up, couldn’t help but use him like a toy.

“good boy,” you sing softly, breath hitching. “good, good boy. i knew you would let me use you like this. kne- knew you would like to make me happy. right beomie? because you love me? you want to- oh my god” you whine, bouncing up and down on him with urgency, felling him thus up to meet you halfway. “you want to make me feel good”

beomgyu feels like fire inside you, feeling you squeezing him so tight he feels himself closer and closer. he takes his hand from your waist to massage your breasts, knowing how sensitive your nipples are, making you sigh, earning him a kiss so lewd he’ll dream about it. “yes, thank you, please,” he cries, “i want- i want-“

“you can’t even talk beomie!” you chuckle dryly, “wh-what would your friends say if they saw you like this? huh?” you whispered on his mouth, the feeling so good its sending your blood rushing to your head as you keep fucking him stupid.

“their proud, confident beomgyu is just- fuck” you gasp at the feeling of his lips closing around your nipple, ”just a dirty slut? huh” you throw your head back to give him more access as you continue to bounce on his cock “ a begging little whore is what you are beomie”

he feels himself closer and closer, your dirty talking sending him over the edges he pleads, “just for you, i swear is just for you, i love you”

“good boy” you panted on his mouth again, feeling the sensation of your orgasm looming over your body and beomgyu was hit with the staggering force of his release as he came inside you, calling out your name in pleading gasps.

you blinked almost sleepily, looking down at your boyfriend and his post-fuck look, a small smile on his face as you leaned down to place a little kiss on his nose.

“love you too, pup.” you sighed.

—

not matcha, but not taro, either.

beomgyu feels like trying something new as he looks at the menu. the scent of sweet tapioca and freshly brewed tea surrounds you two and he thinks this is exactly what dreams are made of, yet deciding on just the right drink feels like an impossible task right this second.

so he scans the menu, his eyes flickering between the various options. yeonjun said their new horchata drink was good, but he doesn’t trust yeonjun’s taste.

“do you know what you’re ordering?” he asks you with big, round eyes. 

you can't help but notice how his eyes resemble tapioca pearls – "just iced coffee," you reply with a hint of amusement.

“right,” beomgyu chuckles, realizing he should have guessed as much.

suddenly, the girl behind the counter approaches you, her bright smile matching the cheery vibe of the boba shop. "hi there! can i help you?" she chirps.

beomgyu's attention shifts to her, “oh! yes yes, just a second” he responds, his eyes scanning the menu once more.

"well, our special today is the pina colada boba blast," the girl continues with a playful tone "it's sweet, refreshing, and i guarantee you it will leave you wanting more!”

beomgyu looks up, and before he could respond, you step forward, "we'll figure it out ourselves, thanks," you say curtly.

the girl's smile falters slightly. "o-okay, let me know if you need any help," she mumbles, retreating to the safety of the register.

"come on, babe, she was just doing her job," beomgyu says, chuckling a little and reaching for your hand. "but i think is time for me to finally admit… there's something kind of hot about you being mean."

you rolled your r eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. you figured that much way before he did “i’m not being mean, beomie,” you still say, feigning ignorance “i truly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

beomgyu grins, feeling a surge of affection for the girl by his side. as they placed their order and settled into a cozy corner of the boba shop, he couldn't help but think how happy he was to have you, even if you did have a bit of a mean streak.

[sweetismyaddiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love

Word account: 1199

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts (should I already tell about the nicknames?). Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner

Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door

Y/N’s Point of View

The water ran warm against my skin, a relaxing shower was all I needed after one very busy day serving and cleaning, which was not the worst part of the job, the worst part certainly was the clients themselves.

I had a playlist on to help me relax, thank god I had the day off and would go just to the night shift today, so it is a study and cleaning house day. But a noise interfire my peace day. Noises that come from outside.

In the corridor someone knocked on a door calling a name, Spencer’s name… I finished my bath, put on my robe and with my towel dried a little of my hair just taking the exes of the water then brushing it. I came out just in time to see someone kicking down my door and entering my apartment holding a gun.

“What are you doing?”

The man is a black big man, he looks around and then to me still holding his gun pointing it to me.

“Where is Spencer Reid?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? Why did you break my door?”

The last sentence was a scream, I can’t believe that a random dude broke my door for no reason. Can’t he see numbers?

“I am SSA Derek Morgan. Now, where is Reid?”

Morgan, the name rings in my ears. Spencer talked about him so many times. Apparently they are friends and coworkers, he can break Spencer’s door, not my door!

“Spencer’s door is the other one.” I point to the one just across the hall. “But relax big man, you do not need to break another door, I have the key, just wait in here and let me put some clothes on. Do not let anyone into my apartment. And put that gun down. Jesus”

Is this a thing? You have to be handsome to join the FBI? After putting a light dress and getting the key I get back to my living room, where that delight for tired eyes wait, he remains stoic, rigid, so tense. Should I be worried?

Knocking soft on the door and calling his name I warne Spencer that me and Morgan are coming in. No response, and the place is immaculate, everything in the right place.

“He must be asleep, he has been very tired those couple weeks. I am going to check his room.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. What? There is something I should know? He is contagious? A zombie? No? Ok, so I am totally fine going by myself.”

I walk slowly into his room, it is dark and quiet.

“Sugarpout? Spence?”

A peaceful breathing is heard when closer to the bed, he is involved in his blankets, is the sights of heaven, my heart gets warm seeing Spencer resting peacefully.

I sit at the bed and run my hand delicately in his soft hair before resetting it in his forehead checking his temperature, he moves a little moaning in protest.

“Shh… it's me Sugarpout, it is ok, you can keep sleeping”

Is a very quiet whisper as I place a tender kiss to his forehead leaving my boy there, his hand landing on top of mine making me smile, as quiet as I entered his bedroom is as I live.

Just at the room door, Derek looks at us, I just make a signal to him to keep quiet and we are back to Spencer’s living room.

“So… you seemed troubled. There is something I should know? Is something wrong with Spencer?”

“Why do you have his keys?”

“Cause I live just across the hall?”

Who does he think he is to interrogate me?

“Serious? That 's why? Common, hot stuff, Reid didn't make a move on that gorgeous woman? Man, he really doesn't have material… or does he?”

Flirtatious Morgan, Reid said he was just like that, all charming. Just bark, don’t bite. Well… I don’t think girls would mind if he bites them, I recognize good stuff when I see it.

“Changing subject that quickly? What are you avoiding agent?”

He just looked at me, no verbal answer, heavy shoulders unmatched with the flirt smile on his face… for a profiler he isn't that good in hiding emotions.

“Seriously” a puff of air came out of me. “Is everything okay with him?”

“Yes, Reid is fine. I… was just worried, we had a hard case and he wasn’t answering the phone…”

“I believe you”

“So… why the keys?”

“I live very close, we are friends and I am his food stealer”

 I blinked at the man with a dirty smile in my face mixed with my sweet traces.

“Food stealer?”

“He is out, I need something, I enter his apartment, I grab what I need, and then I come back to my place. Simple”

“Are you confessing a crime to an FBI agent?”

“A crime against another agent. And the other agent is very aware of what I do in his hose”

“Sorry about the door”

“It’s okay, it is nice to know Sugarpout have friend that really care about him”

It is impossible not to smile, I care so much about the genius boy. Knowing other people also care about him warmes my insides, it is really good to know he is well protected in the field.

“Sugarpout?”

My eyes almost fall out of my face. Shit! It is a private nickname.

“Don’t. Do not, ever, ever, talk about it to anyone, It is private, and especial, so please…”

“Okay, a secret. Someday you will tell me?”

“Maybe”

Derek Morgan lives his card with me. He waited about 30 minutes talking to me, but it seemed Spencer wouldn't wake up so soon, so Derek decided to go home, but promised to pay for my door. In my opinion it was the very minimum he could do, but them we have a talk, and his caring by Spencer was more than enough for me to forget about my broken door.

“Sugar?”

“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”

I smile going to start to prepare something for him to eat.

“How long have I sleeped?”

“Something around two hours, you needed it. Morgan passed by, and broke my door”

“He what?”

“Broke my door. He was knocking, no one opened, then he kicked in. But surprise, surprise. It was the wrong door.”

“Sorry”

“It is not your fault, and he is going to pay for the repair, he was just worried because you didn’t answer the phone, and the last case was hard. I assume you basically blacked out from exhaustion so I decided to let you sleep.”

The toast is ready as is the coffee, the black coffee with tons of sugar.

“Here you go Sugarpout, you need to eat, and then you should call your people. I am not asking about the case. Just a reminder that you can talk about anything with me anytime, I am just one door away.”

I kiss his head, before going back to my place. I could tell he needed a moment alone to call his friends, especially Derek after what I vaguely told him.

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

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

[k0juki]

Good things take time

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the pictures is not mine! Credit goes to owner! Not edited! Also BIG thanks to the @catherinewithu!! Couldn't do it without her.

Summary: If you promise something, you have to keep it. But even Joost makes a promise and doesn't keep it, just like you.

Warnings: alcohol, both sad y/n and Joost, mentions of sex but nothing is here!

A/n: I have mixed feelings about this xdd. Idk if it's happy ending...

Wc: 2.8k

---

Joost. Joost fucking Klein. That man was always very charming and he didn't even have to try. He was always the center of attention whereas you were just somewhere back, trying to fit in. Looking for your kind of people that lay back just like you. And if a year back someone would have said to you, that you're going to be in love with this man, you wouldn't believe them. Probably laugh in their face. You and Joost? Ha, you could never... could you?

He was the god of the party. Whenever he walked into a room, it was like the atmosphere shifted. People gravitated towards him, drawn by his effortless charm and infectious energy. He had this way of making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the world, even if just for a moment. Yeah, you know, Joost.

You and him met pretty easily, not in some grand, starstruck way, but through friends. It was at one of those low-key gatherings that start with a few people and end up with the entire social circle crammed into a living room. Joost was in his element, entertaining the crowd with stories and jokes. You watched him, intrigued by how natural it all seemed to him.

As the night went on, you and him somehow ended up in the same conversation circle. It wasn't long before you were chatting like old friends that have always known each other. He asked about your interests, your thoughts on music, movies, and life in general that night. And you found yourself opening up more than you usually did, his genuine interest made it easy.

Then, you started seeing each other more frequently. Your encounters were never planned, but always felt serendipitous. You ran into each other at the shop center, at friends' houses, and even at the grocery store. Each meeting felt natural, unforced, but then it wasn't just for talking and sharing stories. Now, you and Joost were friends, but with benefits. Of course you didn't mind at all at first. But after some time you wasn't so sure anymore. At first it was just because of some release. But after some time, you started to feel some...things.

Then came the night of this unforgettable party. You didn't want to come here at all, but your friend, f/n, she promised it's going to be just for a few hours and that Joost is going to be here as well. Maybe, that's why you actually agreed to go here. She knew about you and Joost, and how you actually felt about him. But she promise to not say anything.

Joost was, as usual, the center of attention. But this time, at this party, it felt different. Every time your eyes met across the room, there was a spark, a silent understanding that something was shifting between you and him. You watched him laugh, dance, and engage with everyone, yet somehow, it felt like he was always aware of where you were and what you were doing, of who you were speaking with and when you looked at him.

It was like sixth sense.

It started to get hot here, or maybe it was just the alcohol that flowed through your blood. Either way, you needed some fresh air, so you excused yourself from your friend that was just as tipsy as you and you made your way out by the back door that went to the garden. There wasn't anyone, but it wasn't so surprising. Whole party was thrown inside because of the cooler weather.

Enjoying the muffled sounds of a party in the house behind you, you were startled when you felt someone's hand on your hip.

"Hey, hey, easy here. It's just me."

Joost.

"You scared me for life." Turning your head to look at him, you notice how his pupils were big.

"I'm sorry princess, I will try not to scare you away from me." You laughed it off. He was definitely a teaser. It was in his nature, to make people laugh, to forget everything, to enjoy their time with him.

"What are you doing here so alone, hm?" He whispered in the cold night and ran his hand that he had on your hip up and down. To warm you a bit. "It's cold out here."

"I know, but I needed some fresh air. I couldn't breathe in there." You said and pointed back at the house. Leaning your head on his shoulder you closed your eyes, but the drinks that your friend made you drink with her were a little bit stronger for your liking, so whenever you closed your eyes you felt the whole world spin, just like right now.

"Yeah, you're right." Joost put his chin on the top of your head after he kissed it, just as you relaxed in his hold. You always enjoyed his presence, but it wasn't just because of his personality, it was because he made you feel things that you believed that were never there. He was different, he made you feel different. Like no-one else before had. He lifted his hand from your hip and placed it on your arm, "You're cold." he said and raised his head for yours.

"It's nothing." You chuckled, "I will manage." you tried to assure him, but your skin was really ice cold.

"Yeah, in bed with a fever tomorrow morning. Come on, let's get inside." He took your hand in his and together you made your way to the house. He let you go in first, holding the door open for you like a true gentleman he is with a smile on his face. "Lady's first."

You returned his smile, never letting go of his hand. It wasn't strange for you to hold his hand and kiss here and there, but you weren't together, it made some people questioned your real relationship. But what they didn't know was that you and Joost have been sleeping with each other from time to time. And you had to admit, you were totally scared of your future with him.

He doesn't feel love. He never felt that way. You knew it because before you and him started to sleep together, you and him made a promise to not catch feelings, it's just gonna be about a sex. Nothing more, nothing less. And you knew you had crossed that line, but you couldn't tell him anything. That would ruin everything, it would have ruined you. So you swallowed your feelings and told yourself to not, ever, let or somehow show your feelings for him. Even though it hurts you.

"I need to find f/n. She's somewhere here and I need to stop her from doing something stupid." You told Joost and he actually laughed at that because he knew her and what she was capable of.

"That sounds like a good idea. I will be in the living room if you want to look for me after you find her." Joost winked at you with smug on his pretty face and left you here standing with red cheeks. No matter how many times he had flirted with you, you always gave in and let his charm affect you.

---

It took you some time to find f/n, but you also have found some other friends that were looking after her as well. They were leaving and told you they are taking f/n home too.

"Noo, Y/n I don't wanna go home." f/n pouted and hugged you before others basically dragged her off of you.

"You have to. I will text you in the morning, okay?"

She protested, but eventually gave in. Leaving the party and looking forward to your text when you will be leaving.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself a drink, not so strong this time and then you started looking for another person, Joost. But he already told you where he's going to be. Making your way through bodies to the living room, you greeted some faces you recognised. Sending friendly smiles and little waves. But just as you stepped to the living room, you couldn't help the shock that went thru you.

He was sitting here with some girl. No, the girl was sitting on his lap and what was even worse, they were making out. How his left hand was running through her hair and how his other hand was on her waist, keeping her closer, just like he did before with you. All you could do was watch the scene before you.

"Y/n?" Joost's voice was barely making any sense, but he knew that was you who he was kissing right now. He was so sure of it.

"Actually I'm Mila."

"You're not Y/n? My Y/n?"

"I can be her, if that's what you want."

"You're not her?" Joost asked the girl that he assumed was you, but she pulled him back to kiss her. He wasn't complaining, but he was hoping that was you who he was kissing right now and not some random chick.

When they pulled away to breathe, Joost looked around the room and saw you standing in the back with a shocked face and how it, in a matter of seconds, turned into a pained expression. That was the real you. You weren't sitting in his lap right now.

What were you thinking?

It hurt. It all hurt so much. You really thought he felt something for you, just like you did for him. But you were wrong, so, so wrong. "Y/n?" His words were slurred. "C'mon it was just for fun, you know that right?"

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

You heard him say somewhere towards you in his now drunk state, you couldn't even properly look at him, all you could do in that moment was to turn around and leave. On your way out of the house, you passed by people that gave you this kind of sympathy look. Did they think you and him were together too? You weren't, and he made that crystal clear.

"Y/N!" He was calling for you to stop, but you didn't. "Y/n! Can you stop for a second?!"

"What!? What is it Joost!?" You turned to him, stopping in your tracks. Barely holding tears in your eyes.

"What's wrong with you?!" Joost almost shouted, but held himself back because of other people near you two.

"What is wrong with me?" You had to ask. "With me?"

"Yeah, you're acting like I fucked that girl right infront of you, and even if I did, we're not together so it doesn't matter."

"I can't believe this." You avoided eye contact with him. "I'm such an idiot." Whispering, you looked down, letting the tears freely fall.

"What? So it's mine fault?"

"No it's mine."

An awkward silence was between you two.

Joost sighed looking down and put his hands on his hips. "Look Y/n, let's just get inside, get some drinks and forget about it. It wasn't that big of a deal anyway." He insisted and took a few steps towards you, trying to reach for you, but you backed down. You turned back around and said.

"Yeah, you're right, it's not that big of a deal anyway."

With that, you made your way home.

---

That was two days ago, and from that time you felt like shit. You barely slept and eating food was bad too. F/n was worried about you, she insisted on talking to him, herself or you. But everytime she threatened, you told her to stop. That you're going to deal with it by yourself. She stopped after that.

Two fucking days.

Your phone was blowing with missed calls and hundreds of unread texts from Joost, but you didn't want to talk to him. Not right now. His words still hurt you. "It's not that big of deal anyway." Yes, you promised something to each other, but his words hunt you.

As you laid in your bed and re-thinking every detail of that night, soft knocking brought you out of your head. At first you didn't want to get up and answer, if it's important then they will try it later.

But the soft knocking was getting louder and more annoying. You slowly got up and made your way to the door. Ready to scream on anyone that was behind them.

"Y/n?"

That made you stop in your tracks. Joost? What was he doing here? You didn't want him near you at all. That's why you distanced everyone.

"Y/n, open the door."

His knocking stopped and you saw his shadow under the door and how he was stepping from one side to another.

"Open the door. Please."

Joost begged. And that's something you never heard from him before. Part of you wanted to let him in and hug him, but the other not at all.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said that night." You heard him say behind the door. Him still waiting for you to open to him.

"You didn't say anything wrong. Only truth." You muttered on the other side.

"Yeah, but..." He sighed and leaned his head on the door. Closing his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "You didn't deserve that."

That made you cry. He was right, you didn't deserve it like that.

"I hear you cry." He lifted his head from the door and tried to open them again. "Please don't cry."

"You made me look so fucking stupid." You cried more. "I thought...I thought that we-"

"I'm sorry."

You took the handle and slowly opened the door, letting that awkward silence spread all around you and him.

"What do you want from me?" You finally asked as your eyes were red and swollen from crying for the past two days. Just like his.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Probably everything..."

"That's a lot."

"I know I want you in my life." He began. "I'm scared that if I told you how I feel, you're going to leave me like everyone else."

"And why would I do that?"

He didn't say anything to that. Like you had caught him off of guard. But that didn't mean that you felt any better. You wouldn't admit it, but you didn't feel better.

"My heart always seems to be disappointed." You admitted quietly, letting it sink in. "Maybe it was made just to be shattered into thousands pieces."

"No, no, don't say that. It's not the truth, you don't believe that." His eyes were pleasing yours to say otherwise, but he didn't find what he was looking for in them. "Do you?"

"What if I believe in that?"

Now you were more scared of his silence than your damaged heart. Is this it? Is this the very end of yours and Joosts path?

"Are you going to say something?"

"I'm sorry." He stepped closer and opened the door fully. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, I don't know what I was doing...I was drunk a-and I know that it doesn't change anything, but I'm still so sorry and I need you to know it." He kneeled before you and hugged your waist. Trapping you in his hold.

"Joost." You didn't know what to say. Or what to do at that moment.

"I love you." He breathed out. "I don't want you to disappear from my world, because you are my world."

You stopped breathing for a moment. He loves you? Joost loves you? From all of the people he knows and ever met, he loves you?

"I need you to know how I feel." Joost admitted and held your legs tighter. "I should have said that sooner."

---

A/n: I could do better.

Don't copy or translate my work!

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

The Doctors and their Pokémon

Fugitive Doctor

Zorua

Stoutland

She got the Zorua first; standard issue from Division, carefully trained and maintained like the gun they also gave her, except she named it and talked to it and by the end of the first mission she refused to give it back, and it refused to leave.

Not that she remembered, of course. Not once she had to hide. Its power is partly what made that happen, what let her hide so long; a Zorua and a fobwatch, and a new mundane life of taxes and takeaways and time passing in order. It couldn't stay with her. Once she was squirrelled safely away, the Zorua changed form to an Ampharos, living alone on the coast, faithfully guarding her TARDIS.

She thinks about that sometimes, about the incredible loyalty and love that must have taken; hiding itself for her, yet staying far away, hoping and trusting it could protect and keep safe a trainer that it would never see again. She can't think about it for too long. It overwhelms her.

She loves the Stoutland, but she can't remember why.

First Doctor

Persian

Polteageist

He's trying to be all old and important, like you do when you're young, and so he's drawn to the Pokémon with gravitas; the ones that suggest wealth and sophistication. Susan wants to stay on Earth in the UK in the 60s (something about the music, apparently), and it seems as safe a place as any; and if many of the men in this period conduct themselves in an eerily similar way to the Time Lords, well. It's nothing to do with homesickness. Absolute nonsense. It'll just help him blend in, that's all.

The Persian is elegant and dignified, snooty and superior in a way he likes. It's disdainful of the roster of new companions that Susan somehow brings home, and continue to arrive even after she leaves, and he likes that too (although it does like Barbara, the three of them often sunbathing while Susan and Chesterton go off exploring on new planets, and he likes that best of all.)

The Polteageist has the aura of old and classy, and yet also has an impish, mischievous streak, sometimes trying to trick Chesterfield into drinking from it. The Doctor approves of this jape. Although he really can't be having with any of them, of course, Pokémon OR companions. Things were much simpler when it was just him and Susan.

(He secretly lets the Persian on his bed at night. Barbara pretends she doesn't know, and discreetly brushes the fur off his coat.)

Second Doctor

Chatot

Neither of them will shut the fuck up. This includes when the recorder comes out, and the Chatot tries to harmonise. Zoe finds it charming, and often talks to it, but Jamie finds it noisy and obnoxious. He swore at it in Scots once, but it repeated it to the Doctor, and so Jamie got a row.

It almost gets eaten by a Cyber-mat on Telos, though, and Jamie beats the offending Cyber-mat to death with a brick with surprising verve and venom. After that, he and the Chatot take great delight in lovingly insulting each other.

After the War Games, and the arrival of the Time Lords, the Doctor is forced to part with it. It goes with Jamie, and lives out its days screaming Scots insults at English soldiers in the Highlands, and sometimes singing strange, whistling tunes that Jamie feels he heard somewhere before.

Third Doctor

Aegislash

Porygon Z

The Doctor trained up the Aegislash with the express aim of being able to fence the Master if needed, because he thought it would be more stylish. He's right, too, but Liz swore to herself that she'd rather die than admit that out loud. Of course, the Master then did exactly the same thing, but with a shiny Aegislash. The Doctor sulked for days.

She loved creating the Porygon with him, though (a synthetic Pokémon! What an incredible scientific creation), and she was the one to train it up to a Porygon Z. When Jo comes along, she loves the Porygon Z with her whole heart and soul, but it's always skittish around her clumsy ways. Eventually, they go back to UNIT for a visit, and it leaves to be with Liz. Probably best for everyone.

It makes Jo sad, though. It feels like maybe it was her fault - if she could have befriended it properly, could have been less ditzy, less her, then maybe it would have been happy. The Doctor tells her it was simply better off with its first trainer, that she shouldn't blame herself, but she can't help it. It eats at her, until one evening she's sitting in her room moping and feels a nudge, and when she looks down the Aegislash is gazing up at her, its clumsy sword body incapable of offering proper comfort yet trying anyway. It makes her laugh, touched beyond measure, and it locks eyes with her, spins its back to her, and morphs into defence form, a shield against the world all for her.

After that, she is best friends with it. It spends most of its time on their adventures leaping defensively between Jo and certain doom; the Doctor is only half joking when he tells her it's probably why she survives.

When she meets Cliff and falls in love, leaving the perils of space for the perils of social justice, it goes with her.

The next time the Doctor meets the Master, he uses Venusian aikido. It's more stylish than sword fighting, anyway.

Fourth Doctor

Psyduck

Beeheeyem

Alcremie

It's actually Sarah Jane who brings the Beeheeyem aboard, and Harry who brings the Psyduck; both are accidental acquisitions, with the former being responsible for a mystery that Sarah Jane was investigating and the latter being treated by Harry for a headache, and both just... follow these humans when they try to leave, and refuse to stop doing so even when they enter the TARDIS.

But you wouldn't know it. Beeheeyem and Psyduck both prove to be off-putting weirdos, and keep staring at people unsettlingly; Sarah has to keep her bedroom door locked shut to stop either from getting in after she woke up one morning to find both next to her bed, staring at her while she slept. She'd screamed so loud that Harry had come stumbling in still in his night shirt, blearily looking for an invading alien or something. He'd laughed when he realised, and shooed them out, and helped her install a lock.

And yet... the Doctor apparently enjoys staring unsettlingly back.

Sarah and Harry start keeping a secret spreadsheet; which Pokémon, for how long, who seems to win the staring contest. Sometimes they last for hours. It seems almost meditative. It causes deep bonds to form; fascinatingly, he even seems to understand Beeheeyem's weird finger flashing, which Sarah is fairly certain is unheard of.

The Alcremie was a deliberate acquisition, though. He does have a sweet tooth.

Fifth Doctor

Farfetchd

Hirsuian Voltorb

Tegan mocks him viciously for it, but he's a vain creature with eccentric and rigid aesthetic choices, and the Pokémon help with it. Farfetch'd is very good at accessorising with his celery. And Voltorb is the only thing that ever lets him relax - it is so much easier to play cricket with a ball that bowls itself at you! Nyssa and Tegan approve at first; the Doctor can be abrasive, and neither of them has any interest in cricket.

It also lets him play alone. After Adric, he locks himself into the TARDIS sports hall, and plays and plays and plays.

Sixth Doctor

Bruxish

Galarian Linoone

Eiscue

He bonds with the Bruxish instantly, love at first sight; they share the flashy coat, warning stripes to the world, and the smirking, vicious temperament. It takes Peri weeks to warm to it, and it snaps and strikes every time she gets near; until one day she doesn't move fast enough, and she discovers that the teeth that fully closed about the meat of her upper arm barely grazed across her skin, leaving no mark. It acts positively affronted when she announces it's not so bad after all; but she's no longer fooled.

The Linoone is, not to put too fine a point on it, a little shit. The Doctor spends half his time loudly decrying it as conniving and ungrateful; it waggles its tongue back, making an odd sniggering sound before stealing his socks and other items. But Peri sees him slipping it treats sometimes, sees the little ear scratches, sees the answering hand licks. Like Barbara before her, she pretends not to see.

The Eiscue is called Frobisher. The Doctor names it a companion.

Seventh Doctor

Mimikyu

Mr Rime

Liepard

Ace wonders afterwards, in the years to come, how she didn't see the lies, the manipulation, the depths of his scheming sooner; it was right there in the Doctor's Pokémon, if she'd cared to look. Except she did, actually - that's the worst part, in a way. She did know.

But she never thought it would apply to her. Not... like that. Not that personally.

And that's also down to the Pokémon, probably. The Mr Rime is too knowing in its gaze, a Psychic type that sees right through her; but whenever it sees her unhappy it twirls its cane and hat in an impression of the Doctor to make her laugh. The Liepard is vicious and deceptive, sneaky and shrewd, and yet it curls around her whenever she sits in the chair in her room, purring and rubbing against her. The Mimikyu is more obvious, admittedly - a little nightmare beast in a Pikachu costume, hiding its true nature under an unassuming mask - but, is that more the Doctor, or her?

Perhaps it's both.

Perhaps it's all true. He went too far, with Fenric. Even he knows he did. But like the Pokémon, he still loves her. She's both pawn and daughter to him; a playing piece to use, but also a companion to love. And he does use her, yes.

But he does love her, too.

(It takes too long to realise it. When she leaves, the Mimikyu and the Liepard come with her. The Mr Rime does not, the resemblance too much; and the Doctor understands.)

Eighth Doctor

Slowpoke

Cherrim

It's probably the difficult regeneration; he gets amnesia like humans get colds, the memories slipping away like sand through a fist and leaving him hollow, without an identity to fill the void. It's a lonely thing, amnesia. Oddly, though, it's the times that he does remember that feel the loneliest.

Odder still, it always feels so familiar.

But the Pokémon keep him sane. The Slowpoke is his constant friend, as forgetful as him, its vacant, constant state of mild confusion nonetheless living proof that even without the memories, he can still be him, whoever that may be. Amnesia is lonely, yes; but here is a creature going through the same thing, and ultimately, they are in it together at least.

The Cherrim is different. It cloaks itself often, hunkering down against the darkness of a non-existent storm, and he knows that sensation. But then the sun shines, and the Cherrim opens up into its delighted cheerful dance, and the Doctor thinks, yes. This too shall pass. And there is joy when it does.

War Doctor

Yveltal

It's wrong. He knows it's wrong.

He doesn't have any others. No family, no companions, no Pokémon. None left now; and if there were, he's about to sacrifice them anyway. Best to keep it simple.

He thinks of Ace. He thinks of Susan. He thinks of keeping it simple and of I went too far and of a thousand other things; Sarah Jane, and Barbara brushing his coat, and playing cricket endlessly with a Voltorb in lieu of thinking of anything at all, and if he doesn't do this wrong thing, this awful thing now, none of them will have ever lived.

On a broken planet at the end of existence, there are Dalek ships in the sky.

They are hidden by the unfurling wings of Yveltal.

Ninth Doctor

Trubbish

Cubone

He's a nine hundred year old alien and Rose is aware that she herself is a teenager who still can't quite get her brain to accept 'woman' instead of 'girl'; and yet, within minutes of meeting the Doctor, all she can see is a broken child.

He hides it, almost. The face he shows the world is definitely stern and moral and hardened. He's sharp tongued even while actually sympathising with abused and downtrodden aliens and young Welsh psychics. But his trauma responses are totally off, he's far too quick to risk his life, and the day he has her at gun point, telling her to move so he can murder a Dalek and she says no, he shatters at her feet like glass.

But it's in his Pokémon too. The Trubbish is a surprise, until she thinks about it - you don't need to know him for more than... oh, five minutes tops before you realise that he will see the value and worth of every lifeform to exist, even - especially - ones that others don't. It's the Trubbish, it's the Gelth, it's a lonely Slitheen fugitive, a bio-engineered woman in a machine; for lack of a better word, the Doctor sees humanity even where you couldn't imagine it.

The Cubone weeps, mourning a loss it simply cannot heal alone. Rose catches them sometimes, sitting in the console room at 'night', the Cubone on the Doctor's lap and both crying silently as they stare at things she cannot see.

The day it evolves is a turning point. She sees the cracks begin to seal.

Tenth Doctor

Luvdisc

Goodra

Wobbuffet

Oricorio (pom pom)

He gets the Luvdisc for Rose, of course.

It's a silly thing, caught from the beach on Woman Wept; it was there, and the locals told them it was good luck, and it had made her eyes light up and he'd thought in that moment that he'd do anything to see that look in her eyes.

And then he loses Rose, and the grief leaves him breathless. There are days he cannot get his lungs to move quite right, and he lies in bed with his hands on his hearts, trying to find a stable pace to breathe. He knows he has to move on. Rose showed him that.

(He cannot even look at the Luvdisc now.)

So he's back to work, and then there's Martha; clever, wonderful Martha, quick witted and whip-smart and resourceful. She's the one who brings the Goodra aboard, actually. It was being neglected by its trainer, fed and trained and put to battle but never given the affection the species needs, and he'd beamed and said it was a good job it had her, then.

Fuck, he was so stupid with Martha. So blinded by his own grief, so trapped in his own head, so stupid. It was all right in front of him. But he'd been so alone for so long, had believed himself so unworthy, and then Rose came along and he'd dared to believe he could be loved, could be happy, could be so unfathomably lucky, and then suddenly it was gone, and he simply couldn't conceive of anyone else seeing what Rose saw.

The guilt had struck right in the solar plexus as Martha spelled out her departure. But his admiration for her, for her strength of character, could not possibly have been higher. She took the Goodra; he expected that.

But she also took the Luvdisc. "It deserves better, too," she told him, with a gentleness he didn't deserve.

The Wobbuffet came the day he re-met Donna. It was unclear why Kovarian had it, but as soon as they reunited, miming a conversation through two windows on opposite sides of a room, the Wobbuffet had slowly rotated to stare at each of them, transfixed. By the time the Doctor and Donna had made it into the same window basket, the Wobbuffet was somehow also there. After that, it came with them.

Between the three of them, they have a single braincell. On some days, it appears none of them are using it. But the Wobbuffet proves extremely useful, especially when protecting Donna from giant Beedrills.

They get the Oricorio as a giveaway from Ood Operations at the corporate open day; it keeps dancing to the Ood Song. It also hype dances every time Donna goes shopping, so she falls in love.

He leaves her with both in the end. If he can't be with her, at least they can.

Eleventh Doctor

Rowlet

Smoochum

Drifloon

Amy gets him the Rowlet. She says they have the same stupid dress sense, so maybe they can cry for help together. The Doctor is delighted, and takes great care of Rowlet's little bow tie.

The Drifloon, though, he tries not to think about. He's aware that he's seeing a lot of his companions and his wife as children. He's aware that it's weird, okay? He knows. He's also heard the old wives tale of Drifloons wanting to steal children, and how they Just Know who to follow sometimes to make that happen. But that way madness lies, so... don't think about it? Don't even think about it. Old wives tale. Anyway, it's too light to actually carry off a child, it's fine.

The Smoochum is on the nose, though. Of course it's River who gets it for him. "I thought a baby Pokémon would suit you," she coos. "See you next time, sweetie! Smooches!"

He wants to kill her.

Twelfth Doctor

Noctowl

Metagross

As ever, the Noctowl is Clara's idea. She tells him it looks like him. He hisses back that she's trying to look like a Gardevoir, but it's ineffective and stupidly mean and then the Noctowl follows him anyway. He catches sight of them in a mirror, and is even more annoyed when he realises she's right - the damn thing is even mirroring his expressions.

But the Metagross is his. It's clever, is the thing - four brains mean it's practically a super computer, and it's vicious in a way he relates to, and also, it has a St Andrews Cross over its face that makes him think of the accent that came with this face.

Bill asks him about that once.

"Lots of planets have a Scotland," he says.

Thirteenth Doctor

Stufful

Altaria

Maushold

She was too closed off last time, she thinks. She can tell; she hasn't been this clingy, this desperate for companionship, in a long time. And it's not a conscious choice, of course, that was more Romana's thing, but... Sometimes, the regenerations give you what you need.

That's how she gets the Stufful, a cuddly creature that just wants love. It's also how the Maushold evolves, she's pretty sure - it happens not long after Ryan calls Graham his Granddad, and the Doctor feels like her hearts could burst, she's so happy for them, and then when she goes to feed the Pokémon there are too many mice gazing up at her.

But the Altaria evolves not long after she and Yaz... realise.

She's not surprised. Attachment terrifies her now. She can't even think about Rose, about the Luvdisc, about Donna, about River. She's terrified of losing Yaz like that.

The Altaria sails serenely up in the sky, high and carefree, and the Doctor dreams of flying.

Fourteenth Doctor

Wishiwashi

Oricorio (sensu)

Klefi

The Wishiwashi happens immediately. He has rarely identified with something more; it battles with its armour, all the bodies and souls of its companions, and it uses them up until they're all gone and what's left is weak and useless and weeping at the horror of the world -

And then Donna's back, and she remembers. Fuck, she remembers. He's dreamed and dreamed and here it is.

The Oricorio is different now. It once flapped yellow wings like pom poms, joy and delight. Now lilac feathers like fans dance a mournful dance, a reminder of all that's lost. And yet...

Donna remembers.

"You're staggering, Doctor," she whispers. "Come home."

And finally... he does.

It can't be forever. He'll outlive them all, eventually. He knows this. But for now, this is what he needs.

A home with a family. His best friend, platonic soulmate, safe and sound; Wilf and the moles out the back; Mel at his side, finding their feet together; his vibrant and beautiful niece, the new and perfect owner of the old Wobbuffet.

The night he moves into the house that is now his, he takes out the keys to his new home, and discovers they are harbouring a tiny Klefki.

Fifteenth Doctor

Gardevoir (male)

Oricorio (baile)

It's a brand new life, a brand new universe, full of possibilities and wonder and so much to explore, and the Doctor does not know where to begin.

He brought one thing from his bi-generated self. The Oricorio is much happier now, its feathers a fabulous red and ready to party. The night he meets Ruby in the club it's him and the Oricorio in the press of bodies, somehow making space as they twirl round and round on the dark dancefloor, feathers and kilt flaring around them both in the heat and euphoria of the moment.

The Gardevoir was Rogue's. He'd been on Rogue's spaceship, and had immediately started dancing to Kylie, much to the Doctor's amusement and Rogue's irritation. Afterwards, the Doctor hadn't been able to leave him. Hadn't wanted to - the Gardevoir is gloriously stylish, with a sort of gender-bending aesthetic that the Doctor adores these days.

And he remembers. "It deserves better too," Martha had told him once, several lifetimes ago. He does not want to repeat those mistakes.

He keeps the Gardevoir, and the Oricorio too; and he chooses to remember what he once tried to forget.

[vultbae]

water and oil ✩

tashi duncan x female reader blurb

↳ summary: the two female college tennis archenemies play against each other.

↳ warnings: angst, being closeted.

↳ notes: english is not my first language pookies! also, I couldn't believe there aren't almost any Tashi fics??? and happy pride! not proof-read btw

word count: 1.1k

An ear-piercing scream rips through the air, slicing through the ambient noise of the tennis court like a knife, instantly making your body freeze. Your chest aggressively compresses as you watch your lifetime opponent, Tashi Duncan, fall on her back and crumple to the ground in agony, hands clutching her injured knee as if trying to hold herself together. 

Everything has diverted into penetrating silence, and you feel your racket gradually slipping from your fingers, the once-familiar weight slipping away unnoticed as you stare at Tashi Duncan with shock and a rigid, fast-pounding heart. Her face is a torturous portrayal of suffering, with knitted eyebrows and a constant audible sob escaping her lips.

You can't —or are incapable— of moving a muscle; they have locked themselves with a key you forgot where you placed. Instead, you stare with tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over but held back by sheer will. Suddenly, the sour mutterings from the crowd began to stab the thick fog of your shock. At first, the voices were just a faraway hum, but soon, the words became crystal clear.

"Why isn't she helping her?" 

"Look at her—she doesn't even care. She will win by default."

"They hate each other; she won't help." 

You are aware that the public perception of your rivalry with Tashi is intense, fueled by years of competitive clashes on and off the court. So, technically, they aren't wrong. You kind of hate each other, at least publicly. Even college recruiters had recognized early on that your rivalry was too severe to coexist on the same team—you for UCLA and Tashi for Stanford. You are polar opposites in playing style and temperament, each embodying traits that clash rather than complement. 

While other tennis players in your age group get praised for their ability to work beautifully together, Tashi and you resemble more water and oil.

And water and oil don't mix. 

Your heart sinks further as your gaze shifts from Tashi Duncan to the male figure now hysterically rushing onto the court. He is tall and good-looking, with blonde curls and an exaggerated expression of concern that you find melodramatic and infuriatingly genuine all at once. Recognition dawns upon you like a dark cloud—Art Donaldson, the young tennis promise Tashi had been talking to lately, also from Stanford.

The sight of Donaldson crossing onto the court, jumping over the net without hesitation, and acting like a wannabe hero stirs a mixture of sour emotions within your core—jealousy, resentment, and a deep sense of helplessness. Of course, it makes absolute sense Tashi Duncan is dating a handsome, talented tennis player from her same school... and guess what? He came to the rescue! You internally cringe at the horrid thought of everyone applauding him for caring for your girlfriend.

The crowd's accusatory murmurs continue behind your back. Your fists clench at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you follow Art Donaldson's silhouette kneeling beside Tashi's body with eyes filled with hostility and envy. You watch as he gently takes Tashi's hand in his, his facial expression softening as he murmurs charming words of reassurance to the girl deliriously in pain. You can't tolerate it. You stay there, still torn and immobilized, with your mind racing and endeavoring to decide what to do. 

"Sometimes I wish I was a dude," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the quiet of Tashi's dimly lit college dorm. Tashi's fingers lightly brushed through your hair but abruptly stopped. "If I was that Patrick dude or the other blonde guy, my life would be ten times easier."  

You heard her sigh. 

"But you wouldn't be as good at tennis," Tashi softly replied, and you could tell she was avoiding conflict at all costs. 

A beat.

"But I would have you," you said, turning your head to face Tashi, whose expression remained reflective and contradictory as she stared into the soft glow of the lamp lying on her night table. "I promise that's all that matters to me, Tash," you reassured.

Your eyes met, each with equal sorrow and frustration. Tashi broke eye contact first.

Tashi knew that picking arguments with Patrick was very easy, and she didn't have the urge to speak of anything else annexed from tennis and sex with him. You somehow managed to actively amuse her with conversations regarding your crusty dog back home, the food you have tried when you travel abroad, and everlasting anecdotes that provoke you to giggle and steal a genuine smile from Tashi's lips every single time. 

And it wasn't too long after you exchanged your first words in private for her to realize she loved you. But not in a chummy way. Tashi romantically loved you.

But she never said it. Tashi just guessed you would assume she maniacally loved you, and you would satisfy yourself with that.

But the belief of Tashi loving you felt unimaginable in situations like this.

And now, the panorama of them together reflecting a couple straight out of a film—Art's concern etched on his face, Tashi's distress requiring attention—served as a stark, fucking bitter reminder of the captivating image they could market for years. They look perfect, they look—right.

So, why bother ruining Tashi's career? If her key to branding conquest is right there, kneeling next to her aching body in the form of a six-foot gorgeous tennis player.

In that rare moment of clarity, you make a sore, silent vow to honor your secret, to continue navigating the labyrinth of hidden tenderness and affection if Tashi doesn't decide to drop you after this.

But, as you are one intrusive thought away from stepping out of the court —or, better said, escape— Tashi's hazel orbs, flickering with anxiety and in between dried and brand-new tears, disembark on your outline. Internally, she wonders why you cry —at least as much as her, and you wish you could clarify is because you feel powerless. You are powerless. 

Tashi stares one, five, fifteen, thirty seconds. She doesn't quit. You stare back. Encircling her, the Stanford medical team consoles her and provides instructions to which she doesn't pay attention. To her right side, and almost covering the view of her, the blonde guy starts to question what —or who— she is looking at.

You mouth, "I love you."

Tashi's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and you can see that little pout of hers appearing over her lips.

Art turns to track Tashi's gaze, falling over you.

And when he's not looking, Tashi mouths back.

"I love you too."

And that's what matters because no one else needs to know that water and oil can mix.

[seredelgi]

COME BACK TO ME

fandom: Attack On Titan/ Shingeki No Kyojin

pairing: Eren Jaeger x Reader, Toxic! Eren Jaeger x Fem! Reader, Eren Jaeger x You, Modern!Eren Jaeger x Reader, Dom!Eren Jaeger x Sub!Reader

summary: Not completely satisfied with her sex life and anxious about the impending day of her wedding, reader turns back to Eren, her ex, to get what she misses from her fiancee.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: toxic!eren, toxic!reader, toxic relationship in general, smut, sex, vaginal sex, breeding kink, choking, cheating, as in reader cheats on her fiancee with eren, profanity, mild degradation, kind of angsty too, dirty talk, raw sex, light dom! sub! undertones, edging, nipple play, modern au

word count: 3.6k

tags: @anniemika @vlsquuu

a/n: I'm usually not that much of an Eren simp but he honestly fits the toxic ex-boyfriend trope too well, so here. This is really the scrappiest scrap ever but yeah, enjoy. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. English is not my first language so forgive any mistakes.

You love your boyfriend. You really do.

There's no denying that when he proposed you felt kind of nervous about the idea of spending a lifetime with him, but that's no reason to doubt how much you love him.

He's sweet, he's caring, and most definitely very handsome. " He's quite a catch" your friends constantly like to remind you "Such a step up from that clown you were so down bad for"

Eren Jaeger.

Your girlfriends couldn't stand the guy. And honestly, how could you blame them? He's not been the best partner to you during your time together.

He was obnoxiously self-centered and way too jealous.

You were together a year, but you put up with his shit that long simply because he had one of those annoyingly difficult-to-replace redeeming qualities.

Boy, was Eren good at sex.

Your now fiancee is good too, but that's no match for the way Eren could make you feel back in the day.

And you know it is no excuse for what you did. It doesn't matter how nervous or weirded out you have been about the impending approach of your big day, you shouldn't have called him. You shouldn't have needed to hear his voice so bad, and most definitely shouldn't have hoped for him to invite you over to his apartment, sounding way too smug already in doing so over the phone.

But you can't help it, it's just the effect he has on you. You lose all common sense when it comes to him. He's intoxicating, and that, unfortunately, is part of his damn charm.

However, it is quite difficult to regret any of those decisions right now, sweaty and spread underneath him, taking him deep enough to leave you out of breath.

He's not been able to wipe that stupid grin off his face since he opened the door and met your big eyes, languid already with the denial of how much you missed him.

It's always been like that with him. You got carried away by the nostalgia, you felt the suffocating need to see him again, and then felt ready to bolt the second you were met with his piercing green gaze again.

He hadn't let you, of course.

He took hold of your wrist as soon as you turned around to escape from him. He'll be damned if he won't get his hands on you, after months of pointless abstinence.

He's never properly digested your break-up. He'd let you go reluctantly, but still messaged you, still lingered in your life like a ghost.

It didn't help that you'd continued living in the same neighborhood as him for a while after you two had split.

If you had to be honest, that was the very reason why you hadn't been able to be completely faithful to your new man in the first few months of your relationship. You happened to run into Eren a few times too many, giving in way too easily to his rumblings about how he was sorry, that he should've treated you better.

Well, it's too late now, you had found yourself saying, only to end up getting railed by him anyway.

Who were you kidding? You were too damn weak to resist him.

It only happened twice, and you felt so bad about it that you decided to move from the area as soon as things with your boyfriend seemed to take a good turn.

Eren didn't take it very well.

He called you insistently and left you so many messages that you had to block him on pretty much any social media. But he still reached out to you, one way or another, through some of his friends. He didn't have them write anything to you directly, but they always looked at your stories and your posts and you were positive they reported everything back to him.

That's why you're sure he knew you were engaged when he answered your call that very day.

He just didn't care.

Part of you knows you should despise him for it, that the fact that he invited you over anyway doesn't speak highly of him. However, that's exactly why you called him. You knew he wouldn't give a damn about your approaching wedding. If anything, he'd turn this into yet another stroke at his pride, yet another thing to hold you by the neck with.

And that's what he's doing now while burying himself into you. He wraps his hand around your neck and slaps against your ass so hard that all you can hear is the sound of your pussy milking his length and his rasping puffs of pleasure.

Man, you've missed this.

There's nothing quite like the way he makes you feel.

You're not sure what it is about him, and it's not like you don't get fucked properly by your fiancee. There's something about sex with Eren tho, that simply drives you wild. Maybe it's in the fervency of his touch, so eager to elicit a response that it often ends up ravaging you insatiably. It's like he needs you to like it.

It almost makes you wonder how on earth could you have let all of this go.

But then he brushes the strands of your damp hair off your face and whispers to you:

" Couldn't stay away from it, huh?" his breaths are heavy, and their warmth sinks into your skin like sin itself " Missed me that much?"

You can't help rolling your eyes at that. Whether or not his nonsense ranting is the only reason for it, only you know.

You dip your nails into the flexing muscles of his back and whine so loud into the otherwise quietness of his room that you're sure the whole building has heard that. He must've had the same thought too, because he snickers cockily back at you.

You hate to be so easy to break for him, but there's no helping it, and you can't stop your pitiful whining from pouring out anyway.

" Use your words, princess" he drags out, his hold on your neck tightening " Can he make you feel this good?"

You shouldn't humor him, shouldn't let him know the shameful truth of intimacy with your man, but how can you lie to him now that he's smacking so hard against you that you barely remember your name?

No way any of the men you've had in your life could even come close. And even if reluctant, some part of you needs for him to know.

" Nu-uh, Ere-hn" his name comes out amid quiet pathetic whimpers and he basks gloriously in them, pretty much drunk on the sight of your pleasure.

" Fucking knew it" you can hear his groans reverberating through you, shaking you up from within and making you shiver all over.

You're not prepared for the suddenness of his touch when his thumb comes to rest upon your already throbbing clit, applying the right amount of pressure where you've been aching for it, and you exhale a deep long moan that makes him chuckle and dive onto your neck, to pepper it with kisses and gentle bites.

You're already so close, but if you know him well enough he won't let you off the hook that easily.

" Look at you all dumbed down on my dick" the hand of his that had kept you in a chokehold up until then comes to brush down your lips, parting them sweetly as he looks into your half-lidded eyes " What'd he say if he saw you like this?"

You want to tell him to shut up, that you're not here to boost his ego a few sizes. However, you find compelling the way spite is turning him ravenous on you. And as he skates down your skin to squeeze your breasts you catch your breath, bracing.

He knows how much you like nipple play, something you've been missing lately. Your soon-to-be husband indulges in it, but he's way too gentle for your tastes, and even if you've reassured him that he can go hard on you, that you can take it, he just can't bring himself to.

Eren tho, is a whole other matter.

He brushes them lightly, teasing you, making you shiver from expectation. Your chest swells up to chase the warmth you can feel radiating from his hand, demanding it on you. It's like you're a puppet, dancing around at any pull of his at your strings.

You're dipping your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you fear you'll cut it, but when he finally pinches you, you free a shrill sob of satisfaction. Pain curses through you like an injection drug, it haunts at those corners of your mind that had been, until then, still reticent to the heat of his touch.

He still knows you so well you can't help but melt into it now, tho.

" Still fancy this, darling?" he twists your right nipple in between his fingertips, toying with it, having you arch your back as a jolt of pleasure runs through your nerves to come pulse in your swelling clit. The little nub is desperately throbbing for him to speed up the pace that his thumb has been reserving it.

You nod enthusiastically, buckling your hips against his, eliciting the kind of hiss from him that reminds you how even though he likes to play dominant, he's just about as much at your mercy as you are at his.

" Shit- Easy, babe" his voice is croaked with arousal, this time around he's pleasantly taken aback by how receptive you still are to what he used to do to you " 'gonna have me nut into you like that"

You bite your bottom lip harshly at that, trying to refrain from letting him know just how much you would actually love that. You can't let a guy like him know. He'd attempt to knock you up in an instant, probably seeing it as the perfect opportunity to claim you back.

And even if there's no chance he could manage, you still don't wanna give him the satisfaction.

His thumb is still grazing lazy circles around your sweet spot, giving you enough to leave you impatiently waiting on the edge, craving your release so bad that you utter a little "please Eren" against his lips. Lips that are hovering way too close to be able to keep resisting them, and they look so good that you almost feel compelled to kiss him.

But you can't.

It would make this too sentimental, too real for you to able to take it.

" Please what?"

He's wicked, but hell, do you like it.

You hear the sound of your juices mixing with his as he stretches you out, a thin line of drool silently streaming down your chin, giving him yet another reason to smirk to himself proudly.

" Please Eren, make me 'cum, please"

Begging him for it has always proved to be effective in getting what you want. He usually felt spurred enough by it to give in immediately. Plus, you've always secretly loved that, too.

This time around it doesn't seem to be enough, tho.

" See, I'm not sure you deserve that, darling" his pace has become unabating, it's starting to sore you, it's starting to make you regret coming here in the first place, especially when he just won't let you have what you want " You were very bad to me, weren't you?"

Nuh-uh.

But you nod anyway.

And that's about the extent of the amount of power he has over you.

You're able to leave him and stop thinking about him, able to start a new life and date other men, able to accept a marriage proposal, even. But the second he's got you, you're not capable of denying him anything.

You're completely at his mercy.

" 'm-hm sorry" you keen, and see a genuine sparkle of surprise arise in his eyes at that, the quivering sense of loss he must've felt the day you deserted him still hidden in there, twinkling like a treasure he just won't surrender.

If there's something you know for certain, if there's anything you'd bet your life on is that he loves you. Sure, it's in that sick, toxic way of his that just about makes you twist your guts and ache for him at the same time. But he does nonetheless, and you've never doubted that.

There's definitive proof of it in the softening of his tone the second you apologize to him.

" Then leave him baby" he's breathless as he begs you, he kisses your lips and you can't deny him, even reveling at the contact, having craved it so bad that it almost hurts. It heightens your senses and makes you hungry for more.

You've missed it a lot, maybe more than you had the rest of it.

With him, it was always so needy. A desperate clashing of teeth and avid chasing of tongues, always wrapped in moans as he selfishly pulls you in. It is so intense that you'd dreamed about it for nights after you had ultimately decided to break up with him.

" Come back to me" whispered in between harsh puffs and meetings of lips " You know you want to, 'can feel it in the way you squeeze me"

Damn, he's so close to cracking you that it's almost scary.

" Can't let me go" chants and prayers of his just add up to the increasing intensity of his pressure on your clit, bringing you so close that literal tears stream down your cheeks, and somehow you know it's not just because of the gut-wrenching need to orgasm.

You just hate that he's right, and it hurts so much, even in the midst of all the pleasure you're feeling.

" You're still mine" fervid kisses cover the skin of your neck, humid little reminders of what you feel for him, and then you feel the fluttering of your walls welcoming the long-awaited approach of your climax.

He can feel it too, because he steadies his movements, and his eyes are trained on your features as you turn to jelly underneath him, incoherent pleads ecaping silently past your lips.

" Like that, yeah" you can hear him only dazily in the background of your pleasure as you shudder against him, and then you feel his lips claiming yours back, giving you no time at all to even catch your breath. He flicks his tongue in your mouth as you cry into him, and it's just the most excruciating kind of evidence that what he's said is all true.

You are his, and you always will be.

And it makes it all the more agonizing that you cannot be.

It's not long before he tears away way from you, his thrusts suddenly sloppier, his breaths ragged and uneven, and he looks at you, still weakly trembling underneath him, looking positively worn out.

That's how he likes you. Satisfied by him, and only him.

" Fuck- Gotta pull out, baby"

You flinch instinctively at that, your legs crossing behind his back, thighs clenching desperately at his hips, and you know you wouldn't do this if you weren't so high on him.

However you're still hazed from the aftermath of your pleasure, and you so don't want him to part from you.

He looks down at you, confounded.

" Don't you play with me babygirl" he threatens, his breaths so short you can feel he's holding on for dear life, waiting for a confirmation that you do in fact want him to nut inside of you " You know I'll do it"

The idea is appealing, and you recall that's something that you two have always played with in the past.

Back when you were together he'd told you to get off the pill, that he was very much capable of pulling out in time when necessary, when really, he just loved the risk. He got off on the idea that he could knock you up at any moment, his only restraint the one of his will.

It should've felt scary, to give him full control on something like that, but he'd always behaved.

It was a game, and it really did a trick on him. It makes him shiver even right now, against the sudden softness you reserve him as your fingers run through his long brown hair. He tilts his head back and hums, chasing your touch as if starved for it.

" Wanna feel you 'cum inside of me" you whisper in his ear, and his eyes roll back, his unchecked growl making you whimper against him when his hand closes around your throat again, shoving you back on the mattress. And then he starts railing into you with renewed intensity, your head bobbing up and down with his thrusts, and it feels like absolute heaven.

" So fucking desperate for it" it seems like your request has relieved his stamina, and you resume your moaning when his other hand comes to grip your hip to keep you steady, his fingers dipping into your meat so hard you close your eyes shut " -haven't changed a bit"

You feel the awakening of a new need, and you chase after it as you can feel him do with his, his cock piercing through you and hitting your cervix with every single snap of his hips into yours.

" Eren" you let out so quietly that he almost misses it, but when he feels you convulsing around him again, your pussy shamelessly sucking him in, he can't take it anymore. He 'cums with a deep grunt and spills all his warm seed into you, staining your walls and marking you down with his teeth buried in the curve of your neck.

You're so high on it that it barely registers, the way he's sucking on your skin greedily, how whatever he's imprinting on it will have to be covered with make-up before you go back home.

When he's done you're still puffing and tamely shaking, a sweaty mess, holding onto him to try and regain a shred of your lost composure.

He's got you good this time around. You didn't expect to come twice, not being used to it anymore.

His pants are thick and hot against your skin, and when he's finally able to better control them he levers himself up to look at you.

" Fuck, I hope I got you pregnant" he smirks wickedly.

You know it shouldn't, but your heart skips a beat when he confesses that to you.

You shake your head feebly and huff contently, you'd missed the feeling of satisfaction that good sex leaves you soaking into.

" I'm on the pill"

He frowns and slips out of you, evident disappointment washing over him.

" Ow, now that's no fun"

You sigh and look at him as he lays beside you, his cock still half-hard and glistening with the remains of your juices.

" See, that's why we can't be together"

He turns to look at you at that, this time around a hint of hurt clouds his green eyes, asking for you to explain yourself.

" Having a baby is not supposed to be fun" you say then.

" Says who?" he retorts promptly, " Damn y/n, that's one depressing way to look at life"

No use arguing with him, you two are just too different. And that's why you get up, the feeling of his 'cum leaking out from you and streaming down your thighs quietly stirring up your not-yet-silent arousal.

You can't lie to yourself. It had felt good to feel him empty himself into you.

Right is the best word that comes to mind.

But it isn't right.

And the disconcerting truth of it is, that no matter how inebriating in the making, Eren Jaeger is a threat to everything you've come to hold dear.

" I gotta go" you mutter before the sight of him laying comfortably on his bed like that could arise in you the need to cuddle up to him and sleep it off.

You can't let yourself, nor him, delude into that fantasy.

" So that's it?" he lets out, one of his hands behind his back, his muscles flexing and his eyes appraising the view of you getting rid of his 'cum with a napkin you'd hurriedly gathered from your purse.

You sure as hell cannot fathom the possibility of showering at his place, it is way too dangerous of an idea, even if very appealing.

You stay silent, unable to conjure anything that could sound remotely appropriate at a moment like this.

" You gonna hit me up again when you'll realize he's not enough for you"

His words sound resolute and resigned, and they hang over the room like venom as you look at him, baffled.

He's calm and collected, even if his eyes betray a hint of dejection that he would never let anyone else ever catch onto. But they're unwavering as if he can predict your future to be intertwined with his.

How can he even stand to feel like that?

How can you?

You gather your things and go for the door, before he could turn even meaner, before he would show his true colors.

" Give Reiner my best, would 'ya?"

You stop short when you hear your fiancee's name. Your heartbeats racing, your breaths quickening at the realization that you had been right.

He'd been watching silently this whole time.

A chill runs up your spine as you close the door to his apartment shut behind you, and you swear to yourself, that no matter how tempting, you'll never give in to the need to see him ever again.