#first time colouring them woo

[haroroka]

pov you interrupted them

[niinnyu]

The Lidless Eye

[jolalibrary]

you're a prize

joel miller x f!reader

summary: it's date night, and joel takes you to the fair

wordcount: 1.9k warnings: allusion and minor mention of smut. no outbreak. established relationship. joel is cute and wants to win you something. an: written for @iamasaddie's zodiac sign edition writing challenge. i got the lovely joel, fair au and virgo. I ignored the word limit, I’m sorry!!! thank you to the @thetriumphantpanda for proofing this little baby for me.

The air smells sweet as you step out of his truck.

Popcorn, cotton candy, and fried treats waft through the air, mingling with the cooling evening breeze as you take in the colourful stalls and bright lights.

The sound of his door slamming brings your attention back to him. His face is tight, unreadable—chest slightly puffed out, his hands fidgeting with his belt before he runs a thumb along the tucked-in edges of his shirt. Fixing. Adjusting for perfection, as though this were your first date and not close to the hundredth. When his eyes finally meet yours, you grin a little wider, and his own smile begins to break through.

It had been Tommy’s idea—but you’d suspected it was actually Sarah’s. The masterplan being laid out when you’d made coffee, the promise of an empty home, a coincidentally timed advert in the newspaper about the fair being in town as you looked at Joel:

Wanna take me to the fair, Miller? Show me how teenage you would have wooed me.

Sometimes, you can’t quite believe he’s yours.

A thing you’d said when you’d begun getting ready, your outfit laid out, putting your necklace on when he’d walked into the bedroom, shirt open, jeans unfastened, belt hanging there—a sinful picture that somehow was real and yours.

It’s why you’d breathed it out, caught off guard, made the two of you leave far later than you’d told yourselves when he’d left this morning. Your eyes having dragged up and down his frame in the mirror before you pressed the very same words to his mouth. Hungry, all of a sudden desperate. Fabric dragged down his arms, jeans somewhere at his ankles—pulling and tugging, needing more until he was on his back and you found yourself sliding down his cock, finding all semblance of words unable to form.

Somehow, even now, an hour later, you have to pinch yourself.

Unable to wrap your head around the fact that your things are alongside his. That you wake up and sleep beside him. A chance encounter, a right-place-right-time, turned relationship.

A thing you know he thinks too—confirming as much when sleep threatens to take him, the veil of honesty at its thinnest as he murmurs about not deserving you, that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you the first time you’d met.

He makes up for the handful of hours he can give you between working, parenting and sleeping, by writing poems between your thighs, scriptures against your skin, mouth and neck. Making promises he did his darndest to keep.

“You look good, Miller. Don’t worry.”

“Not worryin’.”

You make a soft noise to yourself, offering your hand as the strings of multicoloured bulbs draped between the parking lot and the stalls flicker on, casting a warm glow across his face as you smile at him.

Date nights happen so infrequently, that you’re not sure you remember how they go outside of takeout and movies on the sofa. Not that you complain, happily trade almost any evening for one of them.

“God, you’re handsome,” you whisper, tightening your fingers around his hand—looping them, feeling how much larger his is, than yours—as your other arm bends at the elbow, slinging around his neck. “Fuck I’m one lucky lady.”

He snorts, loudly. His eyes flick to the side before they land back on you, bashful, soft, as he clears his throat and you scrape your nails against his scalp. “Think I’m the lucky one.”

You smile, all uncontrollably as you inhale the scent of his aftershave. It’s all wooden-edged, peppery—just him. Reminded all of a sudden to the wisp of it the night prior, the fan having picked it up, blew it across the room as you turned a page in your book and heard him sigh, would do anythin’ for you.

“I could kiss you.”

Licking his lips, flicking his gaze from yours to your mouth and back. “Yeah?”

You wonder if he catches how it leaves his lips. How wrecked it sounds, how it’s more gravel than velvet, making heat bloom in your stomach as you draw a shape along his scalp.

“Could. But won’t. I think I need a corndog, maybe a ride on the Big Wheel. Real date night vibes first—not often we have some alone time. Don’t want to squander what Tommy has given us.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head, “Tommy.”

Grinning, you nudge into him when he tugs you to begin walking. Glancing up to notice how the sky is shifting in real-time from deep blue to velvet indigo—feeling him release your hand, to slide an arm around your waist. Guiding. Leading through shifting crowds.

You feel grateful, almost overwhelmed, as you take in the scene around you. On both sides, colourful stalls burst with energy, each humming excitedly. The ring toss calls to you with glistening glass bottles and the satisfying clink of rings, while the joyful pops of balloons from a nearby dart game fill the air.

It becomes apparent, quickly, you’re not sure where he’s leading you—not as you pass cheers that grab your attention, only jolting back to him when he comes to a stop at a stall. One less busy, the outer edge overflowing with giant stuffed animals and oddities—

“Hey look, it’s you.”

Your eyes narrow, flitting around, staring as he squeezes your hip.

“There,” he whispers.

All gruff, right into your ear. His breath dances along your cheek. Making your throat dry, making heat bloom between your legs when his chest becomes flush with your spine, and you follow where his finger is pointing, finding at the end of it—

“A sloth. Like you.”

“Fuck you, Miller.”

His laugh ripples out of him, loud, cracking in places as he wraps an arm around your chest, keeping you pinned—letting you feel how it rumbles through him, vibrating your bones with it as you find it hard not to join him. Shaking your head, but smirking, staring up at him before he presses the softest kiss to your forehead.

The same kind he leaves in the morning when he gets up before you; the same one he leaves on your skin when he walks in and finds dinner cooked, and the evidence of a hard day on your face. The same one that means three words, a thing you’re happy to take, each and every time.

“Gonna win it for you.”

“Joel, c’mon, you don’t need to do that, can just go on the ride, grab a snack and go—”

“I’ll be quick. Promise,” he replies, tightening his hold across your chest, mouth dropping back to your ear as children scream as they run past, “Lemme win you a prize, baby.”

Rolling your eyes, tongue in cheek as you stare at him. “What if you’re the only prize I need?”

He contemplates, in the way he always does—mouth scrunching up, nose twitching. “Still gonna win you a sloth.”

Folding your arms, you see little point in arguing. Resting your hip against the side, watching him familiarise himself with the goal: aim the rifle at the row of little metal flaps and shoot them down one by one—each having painted in little ducks on in faded yellows, and in your opinion had seen better days.

It's odd to see a rifle in his hand—wooden, smooth, worn from countless hands over the years. You're so used to seeing him with a tool of some kind or a coffee mug when he's at home.

Joel's first go isn’t too bad. The second, third and fourth, range from worse to about the same.

Each time, he grumbles—a little grunt here, a fuck there. It hissed, whispered—right under his throat with the passing reminder of children still running around the place—as you shift from leaning to standing, and arms folded to hanging loose at your sides.

“Joel, c’mon, let’s go play something else—”

“Goddammit, I can do this.”

Placing your hand on his forearm, feeling it twitch under, spotting the way his bicep twitches under the fabric of his shirt, you busily focus on his face. “Hey, I know you can. But, I want to go on The Big Wheel—maybe, make out a little, you know? Little over the clothes. See what it was like to date teenage Joel Miller.”

His jaw ticks—teeth running over his bottom lip as his nostrils flare as he inhales. His grip remains tight on the toy, fingers flexing over the trigger as your palm rubs in a line up and down his arm.

“One more go, promise.”

Smiling, you close your eyes and shrug—dropping your hand. “One more go.”

Stepping back, watching him nod to the man to reset the metal flaps, you have a thought. “Hey.”

Brown eyes meet yours—the bulbs of the stall reflecting in them, making them shimmer, shine. His face smoothed out, soft, as though work hadn’t been stressing him for weeks, as though bills hadn’t been keeping him awake.

“You win me that sloth, Miller, maybe I’ll ask the guy at the Big Wheel if we can stop at the top and admire the view.”

His eyes narrow, staring, your tongue dragging along your upper lip before your teeth bite on your lower and you tilt your head. Then, his eyes flash.

Head turning, cracking it on either side as he adjusts his stance and squares his shoulders—his grip different, almost more expert as you press your thighs together at the sight of his arm flexing again, his neck tensing.

Then, he knocks one down and your pulse hammers in your ears. The second makes you jump a little, as your heart skips a beat in your chest.

And you know he still has three attempts for the third, plenty of time. But you pinch your thigh through the fabric skating over them. Trying to level your breathing; trying to not move in anticipation. Fingers almost wanting to cross as you stare at him, admiring, unable to tear your eyes away from him—

Then the third rings out.

Metal clanging—a win announced, practically bellowing and vibrating through the air as he cheers when the bell is rung and you find yourself with your arms around his neck. You don’t think as you press a kiss—all painted in joy, happiness and pride—against his cheek. Feeling his heart pounding in his chest when your hand slides over it, rubbing, trying to soothe it as he shakes his head in disbelief when the toys is held out to him.

He takes it, his hand large and strong, the same one that just skillfully shot down metal ducks to win you a prize. As he hands it to you, his other arm slips gently around your waist.

“Told you I’d win you it.”

“My hero,” you smirk, tapping his nose with the sloth’s hand.

Feeling him pinch your side, forcing a giggle out, he drops his voice again, “C’mon, want my prize now.”

“Am I not your prize?” you tease, smiling, faking innocence as he stares—blinking, unsure what to say.

“Some parts of you more than others.”

Grinning, mouth falling open in shock, you hear him chuckle. “Good job I’m interested in finding out what winning tastes like.”

His eyes darken, lips parting as you watch him swallow, before he groans all in the back of his throat. “Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Wanna see how much it costs us to have five minutes at the top?”

Joel practically drags you towards the Big Wheel, the fair music blaring from it as you clutch the sloth toy tight to your waist, trying to keep up with him, grinning, from ear to ear.

[enwoso]

Emily fox teaching Lovie to read

BOOKWORM - alessia russo x child!reader

just a lil cute blurb as a treat after that wonderful start to arsenal’s uwcl campaign❤️🤍

grumpy masterlist

“so can you tell me what that word says?” emily asked as she had arranged the colourful letters into a words. she was sat with you helping to teach you to read.

alessia had tried so many ways to try and help you learn to read, she had used ways from google, tiktok, mum groups but non of it seemed to work. you would instead just get bored and rush off to do something else.

many of the other arsenal girls had also tried but you never seemed interested in doing it, instead finding something to avert your attention to.

but you’d been sat with emily now on the coach, a table in front of you for at least thirty minutes doing a letter game, where she would make a spell the letter for you but you had to read what it said. it so far seeming to work.

you sat with a concentrated look on your face as you tongue slightly poked out between your lips as you tried to work out the word emily had spelt for you.

“that’s a t- and a r” you said pointing at the colourful letters on the table as emily nodded on encouragingly with a smile on her face as you were close, “tr-tee no, tree!”

“yes! woo” emily cheered on as you sat with a proud smile on your face as emily moved the coloured letters once again, “should we try something a little trickier now?” emily turned to you as you paused for a second to think before nodding your head.

your mummy was watching on from the seats across the aisle, a small smile as she watched you thrive. you were learning and even though it had taken a few attempts with different people including herself she was glad you were finally getting it and having fun while doing it.

emily moved the letters to make a sentence, it going along the table, making sure you could make the words out. “right, you ready?” she asked as you hummed looking at the four words splayed across the table.

“um, t-h-e, the” you sounded the letters out as looked to the side slightly to see emily’s reaction knowing you were doing something right as she had an encouraging smile on her face. “the, d-o-g-, dog!”

“yes! your doing so well, keep sounded the letters out” emily encouraged as she pointed to the next letter of the new word.

“w-a-s.. um. was!” you got out after a few attempts of sounding the letters out as emily nodded pointing to the last letter of the last word.

“uh. u-p… s-e-t?” you sounded each letter out as you looked to emily a little confused as she gave you a few hints. “so try and say them together, up and set”

“upset?” you said a little hesitantly as emily encouraged you to carry on.

“get in tiny! now can you put all those words together to make the sentence” emily asked as you nodded, emily pointing back to the first word.

“the,, dog, was,, upset. the dog was upset!” emily cheered as you finished the sentence, a little face of surprise and shock came across you before a big smile overcame as emily high fived you.

an immense amount of pride filled you as you carried on talking and reading sentence out that emily placed on the table with the colourful letters.

you finishing up the last word of the sentence emily had splayed along the table, “your a superstar! that was excellent!” emily high fived you with two hands as you bounced up and down in your seat in excitement of your new skill.

“mummy!” you called out to your mum who was sat across from you and emily, busying herself with finishing some uni work in the spare time she had where her full attention didn’t need to be on you.

“yes baby?” alessia cooed as she looked up from her laptop with a small smile.

“i can read! emily teached me!” you said with such excitement as alessia corrected you on the word you butched slightly.

“that’s fantastic lovie, i’m so proud of you!” your mummy smiled proudly at you as your small heart felt all warm and fuzzy with a sense of accomplishment. “now you can start and read me a bedtime story” your mummy joked, it being a nightly routine that you wouldn’t fall asleep at home without a story but usually after the first few words you fell straight asleep.

you nodded, before making you way down the bus to tell everyone your new skill that you had mastered on the journey. the entire team being so excited for you.

“how on earth have you managed that foxy?” alessia asked, genuinely curious as the blonde had tried every way possible to teach you to read. emily just shrugging she hadn’t had a technique, nor had she ever taught a four year old to read before so she didn’t really know what she had done differently.

“you must of been a teacher in your past life!”

[py-dreamer]

The hero and the warrior were like the sun and the mo-

@cats-and-confusion, @leesbian42

Ayo, back with some shenanigans in space, WOO!

Obviously inspired by macaques gay play tm

Its actually a redraw of this:

Also done by me, just a while back

I was quite conflicted if I should colour in Wukong and Mac like in the bapc pic or just go with the simpler shadowplay aesthetic

And honestly? Quite pleased with how it came out

But I still wonder what it'd look like in a different style so you MIGHT see another version sooon!

I will admit, the trees look much better this time. Less like big broccolis and more like trees

And that's cause I used a reference this time, I based them off of peach trees and used the peach/memory flower I designed in my earlier designs for the space outlaw gang only in the shadowplay style

And praise the Lord for copy paste!

It would've taken FOREVER to draw all those itty bitty flowers, although keeping track of the copies in the layers and merging them was a nightmare.

Planets are the same as the first pic, no big deal

I gave mihou white fur cause its a popular headcanon and it looked pretty, I would assume in intimate moments like this, he'd be able to let down the glamor

Also sadly couldn't do the same for wukong cause I couldn't find a shade that looked good (I'm so sorry, wukong (T^T))

The purple clouds are inspired by the swirly purple clouds Mac uses in his shadow play.

And that's about everything

Reblogs > likes

(Click pic for less sh!tty quality)

[h3arts4strs]

Birds of a Feather

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K. Sato x fem!Reader

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01 ᯓ★ After years of not seeing or hearing from your old friend, Kenji Sato, it’s announced the player would be making a return to Japan. Although you have decided to leave that life behind, an unexpected encounter is made.

WORD COUNTᯓ★ 1.2K

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“Western baseball sensation, Kenji Sato, is finally coming home.” My attention immediately shifted from what was meant to be a crochet sweater but rather resembled a Thneed from The Lorax, to reach for the TV remote to increase the volume. “It's reported that the famous baseball player will be returning home and joining the Japanese Giants this season! Pretty exciting-“, it was at that point I switched off the TV and let out a sigh. It has been years.

Ken and I had a strong bond in the past, one bound together through child wonder, the thought of something lasting forever and a shared love for Ultraman. I still remember the first day we met, sometimes shamelessly catching myself thinking about the incident. It was a summer afternoon at a primary school baseball game. Due to the sport being newly established at my school and the few numbers at the time, the boy and girl teams had been conjoined to make up for the numbers. I could still recall the lush grass underneath my shoes as I gripped the baseball bat, ready to swing and woo the crowd of students who had stayed after school. The pitcher, a dark-haired boy whose head was too big for his shoulder was getting in position, waiting for the signal from the coach. One, two, three, ball! The ball was hurdling towards me, its speed picking up as it got closer and closer. I kept my eye on the ball then, smack!

I dropped my bat and my hands immediately flew to my right eye, gently applying pressure in a poor attempt to alleviate the pain I felt. How embarrassing. Members of my team were flocking to check my condition as I was still in shock. The team surrounded me as the coach gently removed my hands from my eye, revealing the dark ring that had started to form from where the ball hit me. It was that day that I had met the boy who hit me with the ball, it was that day I had met Kenji Sato.

It was through the baseball incident we started talking and quickly became the best of friends, often going out after all baseball games to get delicious frozen treats or play superheroes in the park. One of my favourite memories with Kenji was, the time he gave me the best advice, something I carry with me every day. It stemmed from primary school and how I would be alienated or made fun of for how I looked. Whether it was for my skin colour, hair, or how I sounded, especially when speaking in broken Japanese, I became the talk of the school. I hated it. I hated how my name was an inside joke to many cliques. I hated myself. The relentless teasing led to me always begging my mom to let me straighten my hair, in an attempt to fit in. Kenji noticed this, prompting the best advice he has ever told me, something that will forever stick with me, ‘kids will talk no matter what, so give them something good to talk about’. It was moments like that that had us stuck at the hip until a forceful separation was made a few months later, Ken was moving to America. 

At that point in time, it felt as if the world had ended at the fruitful age of 11, unbeknownst to what awaited me in my years of adolescence. My best friend would be moving across the North Pacific, to the world of the west, leaving Japan and me behind. We then made it a mission to keep contact, not allowing our friendship to falter and for the first year and a half we did just that. The strength of our bond could not be questioned as it was that strong and not once had I ever been left to wonder are we still friends. It was only until I noticed he messaged less and less and took longer to reply and when he did, it seemed forced. I was naive to think that we would stay the same, to believe that he would get tired of this distance. We were like two slow dancers, experiencing each other's comforting embrace until the song's ending would inevitably force us to part. I can’t blame him. Life happened and we unfortunately never spoke again, leading me up to my present, one where I sit snuggled up in a warm blanket as I attempt to crochet while having the ambience of the TV fill my luxury apartment.

I would love to meet up with Kenji again and see how he’s been doing after all these years but the thought of it being an interaction is nothing short of that awkward tension with constant “oooh”, “That’s cool” and “By the way, sorry for not messaging you anymore out of the blue, I was feeling a bit silly” so it would be best I leave that chapter behind, continue living life as I have been. After coming to my conclusion I decide to retire for the night, getting ready for a busy day as a KDF fighter pilot.

. . . 

As the sun shines through my blinds, I slowly rise, stretching until a satisfying pop noise escapes my back. I go about my regular morning routine and change into my fitness wear which consists of sweatpants, a compression jacket and some trainers. After battling with my hair, I managed to put it into an updo, practical yet adorable. I grab my headphones, phone and house keys and go out for a morning run. 

I had started incorporating morning runs on weekends as a way to remain active when I was not able to surf and enjoy other water activities. As my body carried me on the boardwalk at a steady pace, I listened to my favourite artist and mentally planned out my day, I was going to go home, freshen up and explore the city, discover small shops that hid in the crooks and crannies of the city, have lunch at a cute cafe then return home, it would be the perfect self-care day. 

I continued to run, enjoying the salty breeze that gently blew on my face, the rising sun that warmed me up and the sound of crashing waves I could hear over my music. My mind and body felt amazing, being able to reconnect with nature after a long week of flying and capturing was therapeutic.

After running my routine 5km, I headed towards the nearest smoothie bar to get myself the tasty treat I deserved after doing my run and beating my previous time constraint. I walk into the shop, enjoying the feeling of the AC cooling down my body. I analysed the options on the menu and decided to go with a simple berry smoothie. Once my order had been prepared and I reached over the counter to receive my drink, I felt someone tap my shoulder. When I turned around to see who was behind what they needed, “Hey, it's been a while."

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✮chérie

[elsweetheart]

jealous girl — basketball!abby anderson au

synopsis: when the other girls on your cheer squad relentlessly show interest in your girlfriend, the captain of the basketball team — you feel the undying urge to claim her as yours and yours only.

♪ jealous girl — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: reader is a cheerleader / athletic, girl drama, alcohol, reader gets very possessive, jealousy and insecurity for no reason tbh, angst??? reader cries a bunch what’s new, smut, use of strap on, housewife kink, dom top abby, sub bottom reader, a little bit of overstim if you squint? fem reader, lmk if i missed anything!

an: omg hi! i’m so nervous to post this omg. i hope you like the route i took this down! reader can be kind of annoying but stick with it. minors you are not welcome here so don’t interact and ageless blogs you will be blocked. also please don’t ask for a part two! there will not be one! anyways hope you enjoy it bbs ! likes and reblogs welcome ♡

Winner. Scholar. First place.

And that was just the first shelf of Abby’s trophy cabinet. She’d been given the premier student accommodation. You know, the apartments they reserve for their most promising students. Sleek grey cabinets and polished floors, a kitchen to die for — it was no wonder you were barely ever at your own shitty little dorm. Every tri coloured ribbon that hung proudly beside her winnings wore a gleaming gold pendant on the end — just another display of her success. Walking around her sleek scholar apartment was so familiar to you that the glimmering display cabinet barely caught your eye anymore, but each time it did it welcomed a blossom of pride in your chest for your girlfriend, Abby Anderson.

Abby — casual rugby player, frequent at the boxing society, known for wooing her professors into raising her grades by showing up with her own engraved golf club to their country club and wowing them with her swing. But she was known for one thing and one thing only around campus, and that was being the captain of the basketball team.

She was ruthless, six feet and two inches of pure muscle and willpower on the court. The blonde braid, her trademark, swishing against her toned back — and if you’re seeing it, it’s because she’s already passed you with the ball that you had just bounced. You were no stranger to the sound of the orange ball thudding against laminate floors, and the squeaking of sneakers. Infact, it’s what brought the two of you together. No, you were not on the basketball team. You, were a cheerleader.

Not the captain, although that would have been beautifully cliche; the basketball ball team captain dating the captain of the cheerleading squad — take a shot every time you read the word captain, no seriously, quickest way to get wasted. You were happy that way, however. When you weren’t dancing, you were shy by nature. The change in your demeanour was a shock to the system every time — countless frat douches and friendly party goers stepping away wide eyed when they’d approach you, hoping for cheerleader charm and instead being met with a flustered squeak. It took a while for Abby to get through to you infact, as you can imagine — being a campus celebrity and all — approaching the shy girl was a mission she was willing to try again and again at, warming you up until you were eating right out of her big coarse palm.

The memory of your first meeting was still something that made her chuckle. She’d been crushing on you for a while before even saying a word — stealing heated glances at you whilst you were dancing or being tossed in the air — whilst you of course were convinced you had hallucinated The Abby Anderson acknowledging your existence. She was tired of stiffening up at your demure glances and flustered smiles directed at her, so all but marched over to you after winning a huge game. Pumped full of adrenaline, chest heaving as she chased her breath — you in her laser vision. You noticed the hair stuck to her forehead before she even spoke, the shape of an S.

“Hi—”

“I’m Abby.” She breathed out, like a total loser — she’d add.

“I… I know. I’m—”

“I know. Let me take you out. Please?” Don’t beg, Abby. “I asked your roommate if you liked girls.” You did not have to tell her that, jheez. Creep much?

“Oh…?” You couldn’t seem to close your mouth, trying to process what was happening and happening fast. For a moment you questioned whether you’d taken a tumble on that last cartwheel, currently blacked out on the floor in a concussion-hazed dream. Ooh, maybe Abby is carrying you to the infirmary.

“You can say no.” She rambled. She looked nervous for a moment and when you started to smile, so did she. “But… don’t.”

So you didn’t.

Abby was a dream. After you’d said yes, her confidence was slammed back into her and she was busying herself with planning ways to make you hers. She was confident and naturally dominant (Opening regular doors for you, opening car doors for you, hand on your lower back when you walked together…) without being arrogant. Humble, whilst holding herself with a presence that commanded nothing short of respect. She’d taken you for milkshakes for your first date, and you’d clicked instantly. Abby did everything right, which made your face hot and stomach clench up in nerves at the idea of doing something wrong infront of her. But that feeling melted away, the only two people in the small but admirable diner — Abby carrying the conversation for long enough until your shyness melted away, catching yourself in giggle fuelled rambles and debates.

You’d kissed her on the cheek at the end of the first date. So innocent, so sweet — she remembers thinking. She let you have that, didn’t try and go in for a kiss on the lips, stood outside your building. She was happy with her decision when you pulled back and just looked so fucking proud of yourself for taking such a leap. You exchanged some kind words, some gratitude with the small and humble bouquet Abby had showed up at your door with tucked under your arm — before you were flouncing away in your little sundress. Abby touched her hot cheek when she walked away, smiling ear to ear. Her fingertips grazed over a slightly sticky outline, and she picked up her pace to get home so that she could look in the mirror and catch the sight of your lipstick print on her face.

Current day, and you’re puffing out your cheeks — stepping into the sweaty auditorium. The humidity is a little stifling and you frown in disapproval, wondering when they’re going to be getting the fans fixed like they said they would. This time, tucked beneath your arm is Abby’s white water bottle, college logo printed along the side, that she’d left in your dorm when she’d dropped by the night before. Your eyes searched the room to spot her, and it didn’t take long as she pretty much towered over everyone — you stopped for a moment at the edge of the sports floor, chest inflamed by the sight of your squad members surrounding her, giggling.

You hate to say it, but whatever stereotype or rumour you’d heard about cheerleaders is true. Especially at your college, there was something so criminally But, I’m a Cheerleader (1999) about your squad in particular. You didn’t like to get involved in the drama, but sapphic drama was not unfamiliar to you. It was bizarre, everyone was friends — but their sporty girlfriends from outside of the team were getting passed around like peas. Abby had always been an object of their affection, but before you had started dating her she seemed out of reach — due to the fact the blonde quite literally never even glanced their way, too focused on the game, and whispers of ‘Abby doesn’t date sports team girls’ around campus. Since the two of you had been together, what — 10 months now? It seems to have refilled their confidence in being able to win her over, regardless of how you felt about it.

It was never direct. To anyone else, the group of you seemed like great friends — and you were the number one flyer, needing you as the centre piece for every dance. You were happy to get chucked in the air so long as they caught you, so as you can imagine; that element mixed with your shyness forced you into not confronting them all for flirting with Abby.

"No but if I had arms like this? Whew, no one would be safe. I'd be a slut... I mean I already am..." The cheer captain, Liv spoke, the other dancers squealing in agreement. Abby looked uncomfortable to say the least, forcing a polite smile and trying to wedge herself out the small hyena circle they had formed around her. A blossom of pride filled your chest when you saw the sheer relief in her eyes, her gaze landing on you. You surged forward into the light, smiling awkwardly at your peers as you approached your girlfriend. She bounced the orange ball on the ground once before tucking it under her arm, other bulging arm bringing you in for a quick hug. "Hi, baby." She chirped, happy to see you.

You wanted to enjoy the moment, but couldn't ignore the disapproving gazes from behind Abby's back, their faux-friendly smiles turning to not so subtle glances and snickers toward each other. Just ignore them. Abby didn't pay them any mind so why should you?

"Hi Abs." You lowered your voice, like you were hoping they'd get the hint and give you two privacy. They stuck around like flies, much to your disappointment. "You left your bottle at my dorm. Didn't want you to get dehydrated agai—"

"Awwww, you guys are so cute!" The bleach blonde base leader appeared beside your girlfriend, obnoxiously butting in and making a point to rest her hand on Abby's bicep. "I want what you have." She pout, but you couldn't help but feel that comment was directed more toward you.

"Oh—thanks." You chuckle, not quite meeting her eye. Abby took the bottle from you, shooting you a subtle ‘wtf?’ look which made you wanna giggle.

"Oh you refilled it, nice. Was so fuckin' thirsty." She smoothed a hand over your head gratefully as she brought the bottle to her lips and chugged, stepping away to address her team, their practice ending for the day, giving the cheerleaders the space to rehearse for tomorrow. "Alright team, circle up I got a few pointers." You heard her command, smiling as you watched her team members gather around her obediently. You snapped your eyes away toward the girl still stood by you, eyes slightly narrowed as she observed you. She looked away when you noticed her intense gaze.

As much as you hated to see Abby leave without you, it always brought you some kind of relief — knowing that your squad could actually focus on what you were there for, cheerleading — instead of fawning over your girlfriend, giggling, bending over in her direction to 'tie their laces'. You knew dating Abby would bring a lot of attention, and you knew that there must have been plenty of girls that were after her — but this whole thing with your own squad was getting pretty old. Sometimes you wished you weren't so shy, so you could give them a real stern talking to. You didn't wanna put it all on Abby, it wasn't fair, she didn't ask for this and plus it was your problem. You didn't wanna be that jealous and possessive girlfriend, did you?

The next day, Friday rolled around fast.

It took a lot to shake Abby’s confidence. She knew she was good at what she did, otherwise she wouldn’t be on such a prestigious scholarship, or have acquired the team captain title so fast — but she was nervous. The impending game was a big one, there was no room for fuck up’s. There had been talk of scouters for top women’s basketball leagues joining the audience, and Abby knew that if things went well it could really put her on the map, no — it was guaranteed.

Your eyes were fluttering closed, heavy after the long day you’d had perfecting your routine with the team. You were in your shabby little dorm, practically a hole in comparison to Abby’s sleek apartment. More times than not you’d stay with your girlfriend, calm eachothers nerves before a big game — but you had mutually decided that you’d both needed to ensure a perfect night’s sleep. Your phone laid beside your head on your pillow, the glow of Abby’s contact picture lighting up the small space around it. She was breathing slow and calm on the other line, clearly tired herself.

“And then you can come and stay at mine tomorrow after the game, and stuff.” She hummed, the sound of her shifting positions, her bedsheets rustling taking over the audio for just a moment.

“Mhm. ‘Can celebrate your win.” You smile, eyes now closed as you picture it all, nervous butterflies batting their wings against your stomach.

“Or mourn my loss.” She chides. “You can still come over either way.” Abby chuckles but it’s dry and humourless. She always got this way before a game, just a little pessimistic — doubting herself subtly through sly jokes and quiet comments. To anyone else, she’d still appear just as confident and carefree — but you knew Abby.

“Abs, don’t say that. Y’gonna win. Simple as.” You exhale, feeling your body sink further and further into the pillow. She was silent for a moment, considering it — probably doubting everything that had just come out your mouth, this time in her head.

“Hm.” You listened to her breathing, and it made you sleepier. “You’re tired baby. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” You wanted to protest, be there for her and soothe her nerves for a little longer until she felt ready to sleep but her voice was lulling you into a dozed state.

“You sure? I can… stay…” You could barely finish your sentence, making her chuckle tiredly.

“Yes, pretty girl. Gotta get your rest for tomorrow. Need you cheering me on up there, helps me play better.” She was smiling, you could hear it. Your heart swelled and you made a happy humming sound to after.

“Night Abby, seeyoutomorrowloveyou.” You sigh out in one breath.

“Night baby. Get some rest. I love you.”

The opening intro to Fergie’s — Fergalicious blared through the auditorium, your squad occupying half the court as you danced for the screaming crowd. Hips, hips, split jump, cartwheel — behind your bright smile you were counting steps, keeping your arms tight and straight, flickering your eyes towards the scoreboard. You looked properly as you stood on top of the pyramid, ankle by your head — burst of adrenaline and relief when your eyes landed on the numbers in glowing red, signifying that Abby’s team was still in the lead. You gracefully flipped, and were caught back on the ground, heart thundering in your chest as you continued on with the dance.

As rehearsed, the college mascot had run on, joining in on the dance. A ridiculous looking wolf with a brightly coloured t-shirt and cap on its furry head. He danced beside you, comedically shaking it’s hips in time with you. You glanced over at Abby, happy to see her looking eased, a slight smile on her face as she jogged away from the net, watching you dance. A few strands of her hair stuck to her face from sweating and it reminded you of the day she asked you out.

63-63 with three minutes to spare.

Your squad tried not to show that they were itching from the sidelines, eyes glued to the players as you were lined up by the benches, waving pom poms now and shouting your usual chants, trying not to get drowned out by the passionate yelling of the audience.

Be aggressive! B-E aggressive! I said be aggressive B-E aggressive! B-E A G G - R E S S I V E! Whooping the house down show ‘em who’s the leader — bring ya’ baby down down, go cheerleader!

You tried to keep your grin as you chant, moving your hips in time with your claps and arm movements as you watched Abby’s team mate miss the net, ball rebounding off the backboard. You caught a glimpse of the frustrated expression on Abby’s face, jogging around players and yelling directions over the crowd that seemed deafening at this point. You watched her eyes rake through the audience, looking for a talent scout shaking her head and drawing a big red cross on her clipboard or something. Her eyes then found you, a inkling of panic that was calmed by the tide that was your face staring right back at her, smile still plastered as you repeat your chants with your group. The sight of you surged something through her, she had to do it for you.

63-63 with two minutes to spare.

“Don’t worry guys, Abby’s got this.” Liv twinkled proudly, like the blonde captain even knew her name and you felt sick. Sick with nerves, sick with possessiveness, sick with irritation. You stomped your feet that little bit louder whilst you cheered, wanting to dash your pompoms at her head. You felt sweat trickling down your spine, head starting to pound from all the tension and noise. Was the crowd getting even louder? Where did you put your water bottle?

63-63 with one minute to spare, and there was no time to drink.

Even the chants stopped, the squad trailing off just to watch in awe. The sound barrier practically broke when the ball came to a thudding halt, caught mid pass by none other than Abby Anderson, basketball hero. This other team were good, frighteningly so — but they were no match for her. She dribbled with precision in and out of players until she met a wall of her opposition, closing in on her fast to snatch the ball. She turned left, turned right, looking for someone on her team she could rely on to get the ball in the net. The coach yelled from the side, the cheerleaders gripped eachother, the audience stood on their feet. Abby’s knees bent, arms extending. Everything went slow motion, like it always did as you watched with wide eyes. The ball didn’t circle round the hoop, it didn’t slide down from the backboard, it slammed straight through the net so hard you thought when it landed it might leave a dent in the ground.

63-64— and the crowd fucking exploded.

You were immediately jostled to the side by your squad jumping up and down, grabbing eachother with screams. You stumbled, jaw agape trying to catch sight of her. Where are you Abby? Let me see you.

She was suddenly there, expression mirroring yours. The world still moved slow, spotting eachother now. She took off toward you, dodging the grasp of a celebratory cheerleader, skidding past a team member that tried to pull her in, straight toward you. You met her half way, feet in control now and leapt, Abby getting the same idea and thrusting her arms around your waist, swinging you round in a circle. Then, you could both smile, and it didn’t stop growing, not even when you smashed your lips together. There was no sound anymore, no screaming crowd or cheering squad members — just your own delighted giggle against her, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, the back of her hot, sweaty neck in your palm, your teeth clashing together at the force of the kiss.

You pulled away to breathe and the sound returned like you’d just come back up from underwater, the yells, the cheers, the chanting of her name. “I did it I fucking— do you know what this— baby, i did it.” She was panting, forehead pressed to yours and hell, you couldn’t care less that it seemed the world was watching such an intimate moment.

“Your life’s gonna change Abby, i’m so proud of you.” You breathed, and before she could reply — expression of awe, and utter love struck, she was setting you down and her team was tearing her away, lifting her above their head, passing her another big golden trophy to add to her shelf. She held it in the air, and then came the flashing of cameras, the barrage of students running to celebrate with her. A cheerleader from the other team roughly brushed your shoulder as she passed you with a glare and you didn’t even stop to acknowledge her, just watching on with pride — hands clasped beneath your chin. Your Abby had won, and nothing else in that moment mattered.

8:04PM

“Is it braggy if I wear the jersey on top?” She was smirking a little, stood in front of you in all her glory in her apartment. You spun around at the vanity, eyes taking her in as you pulled your little pink dress further down your thighs.

Your girlfriend was showered, and dressed — donning her bright blue jersey over her grey hoodie and jeans. You grinned, standing up. She looked good, but she always looked good. You had to stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around her neck. “Don’t you think you deserve to brag, a little?” You flutter your eyelashes, tilting your head with a grin.

After every game that was won, a party was thrown at the house of one of the sports captains. It was tradition, and almost always it was in Abby’s honour, because she was almost always the star of every game. The one to think of a genius formation that would throw off the other team, the one to make changes last minute that would be the saving grace, the one to make the winning shot. Today was like no other, and you knew everyone was willing to go extra hard this time — after that win, Abby was like a fucking celebrity.

You felt like you were hit with a shockwave of noise as soon as you walked in. The bass from the speaker was all but vibrating the floorboards, the sticky…wet (?) floorboards. You blinked, accustoming yourself to the low lights, clinging onto Abby’s thick bicep as a swarm of people coming to greet her approached. Sometimes parties felt like survival, Abby being that buoy in a storm that you’d cling to until the tide had cleared. The music was loud as usual, familiar, what was the song playing? You recognised the familiar tune to Blame It by Jamie Foxx and T-Pain and nodded your head with a false confidence. Drink, I need a drink — you thought, detaching yourself from Abby to beeline to the makeshift bar once you’d spotted it. Not the punch, you weren’t stupid — you had no clue what people had put in there. Vodka… vodka where are you? You grabbed the clear bottle with the red lid and poured yourself a generous amount into your cup before filling the rest up with… what were your options— cranberry juice. Nice. This will get you by. You needed social skills tonight, Abby had won a huge game and you didn’t wanna drag her down with your shyness. You sipped, no — downed some of your drink with a wince, some liquid spilling down your chin. Alter ego activate, shyness be gone.

You found Abby again, and when she spotted you awkwardly trying to wedge yourself through a gap to get to her she slotted her arm through, parting the sea of people like Moses himself to pull you right up beside her, torso to her ribs. You could stay like this, right up on her— you wanted to stay like this, but you’ll be damned if your girlfriend wasn’t social.

It’s an hour later, you’re drunk, laughing at something dumb Manny had come up with, social for once — and you hear them before you see them. The gaggle. The malicious giggles, pitched just a little higher than their real laugh in an attempt to turn heads. It works, you turn, there stand your cheerleader friends. ‘Friends’.

You can tell they went hard with the pregaming because they’re clinging onto eachother, forcing their way through the party crowd like a cluster of germs. That’s mean, you think to yourself, shaking off that feeling — the ugly feeling rising in your stomach like scalding bile. Insecurity, the feeling immovable even when you’re drunk and joyous, lodged into you seemingly forever, an arrow with spikes. You push it down, push it down, push it down as they squeal and come towards you. It flares up with immense force when you catch their outfits. They’re all wearing ‘Anderson’ jerseys. Did they fucking buy personalised jerseys?

It’s like you step out of yourself for a moment because you reach out and take a hold of the jersey across the cheer captains chest, turning her around and pulling the material taut as you see ‘Anderson’ in crisp white font across her back, mocking you. Your mouth is agape, unfocused and she steadies herself, turning back around and grabbing you.

“You like ‘em?” She whoops and all the girls join her, fondling their jerseys proudly and looking around for more eyes.

“Personalised jerseys?” Is all you manage to let out, just a simple observation. Liv falters for a second, something mischievous twinkling in her eye, lip curling up ever so slightly.

“Baaabe, the manufacturer f’ed up our order, and we fell one short. But we figured you’d have your own one right?” She eyes you obviously. Her malice is hardly hidden anymore. “Abby didn’t give you her jersey?” She tilts her head, as if it were an innocent question. You bitc—

“Abby!” The copper haired girl behind her squeals and you don’t have to turn around to know your girlfriend has unknowingly made her presence clear and accessible. The troupe practically rush you, shoving past to circle Abby once more. The uncomfortable look the blonde had yesterday in the court was gone, the one drink she’d been harbouring all night loosening her up a little — which made that insecure, jealous feeling nestle itself back beneath your ribcage.

“Heeeey— ohhh, awesome!” She smiles in a friendly way when she notices their jerseys. The same friendly expression she’d give to anyone, not flirty or lusty in the slightest — but they’re grabbing at her and batting their lashes up at her like they want to jump on her there and then and you feel yourself trying to crush the red solo cup in your palm. You’re broken out of your enraged trance because your sweet, thoughtful girlfriend is pulling you through the crowd they made, grinning without a care in the world. “You see this babe? Ah, should have given you my one to wear huh?” She laughs, and they laugh, but for different reasons.

The girls leave her alone for a while, but God they’re always fucking watching. Finding ways to subtly interact with your girlfriend. Accidentally bumping into her, which she barely notices until they start profusely apologising. Dance moves becoming inherently more sexy when she turns in their direction — not even looking at them but oh do they try. You finish your drink, because you need to finish your drink— and succumb to the urge to be that girlfriend. Who gives a fuck? Maybe you are that girlfriend.

It didn’t feel like you when you impatiently tugged her away from Nora, another basketball player, mid conversation, hands clasped in Abby’s silky jersey, pulling yourself to her chest, your own tits squishing against her.

“Aaabs.” You whine, and it’s giddy, lustful because she just looks so good. She smirks down at you, letting you tug at her, letting you move her. She looks so into you in that moment and it just… somethings not enough. You’re glancing for your cheer team, and that hideous feeling of shame briefly twinges inside you. Are they watching this? Seeing me touch you? Do they know you’re mine?

“Baby.” She’s returning your giddy smile, and you have to pull away from a moment so that you could back up a little… a little more into the clearing… give them a perfect view.

“Y’look so good.” Is all you can say because it’s true, and you’re pretty sure your eyes completely glazed over— pupils shooting out wide when she grabs a handful of your ass, a little rough but in a loving way, just like the Abby you’re used to — using her grip to pull you back into her hard, a small ‘hmph!’ whimper forced out of you when you all but slam into her strong chest. You love it when she got like this. Grabby. Forgetting her own strength and manhandling you. You’d usually be giggling and shoving her away in public, but you craved the eyes now. You wanted viewers, jealous gazes, realisations — Abby is locked in.

“Oh it’s like that huh?” She’s chuckling at your expression. Forever her needy girl.

You sucked in your lower lip, eyes melting into that doe eyed expression that made her want to fuck it off your face, and she squeezes your ass a little harder. Your knees practically buckle, face burning hot because you feel your pussy spread open under your dress — as if she’s opening the floodgates by hand, wetness pouring out into your underwear. You hoped and prayed they were watching. Screw your little Anderson jerseys, she’s gonna be knuckle deep inside me in five minutes if the two of you kept this up.

“Cant wait to— mm—” You turn your head. Liv is snickering, whispering, but her expression says it all. Jealousy. You feel victorious. Abby curls a finger around your chin and your distracted gaze is back on her.

“Cant wait to what?” She glances in the direction of what you were staring at and your heart skips a beat.

“Can’t wait for you to remind me what a winner feels like.” You breathe out quickly and she’s back, smirking hard like she can’t control it. If she was packing, she’d be tilting her hips forward by now, digging her strap into the mound of your cunt through your thin dress where you stood — and it makes her wish she did pull the harness up her thick thighs beneath her jeans before the two of you left for the party.

“Yeah?” Her voice is breathy, low. “Forgotten already?” She chuckles, and she’s kind of right to— she was always winning, it wasn’t easy to forget.

“Mhm. Oops.” You shrug and you both giggle this time, her hands sliding around your waist. Each time her hands find a new spot on her you can’t help yourself from glancing over at the eyes. At Liv. At the whispers. Get a good fucking look.

Abby leans in, hot breath on your cheek and you turn back to her nearly knocking noses. Her brows are frowned a little and her cheeks rosy, lips parted in a way that made you wanna shove your tongue between them. “Give me… a little while longer to bask in this.” She chuckles, humble like she always was. She steals a kiss from your parted lips. “Can’t leave a party thrown for me so soon… just a little longer and I’ll take you home and give you a reminder, pretty girl.” her blunt finger nails rake behind your ear, scraping whatever hair was there backwards, pecking you again. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, hot and lethargic. You wanted to be obedient but something still negged at you, buzzed in your ear like a fly to ‘stay focused’.

You gripped her strong arms. An attempt at control.

“Don’t have to leave. Can just go upstairs. Right here right now.” You whined in an impatient way this time, fingers curling around her hoodie peeking from beneath her jersey. She blinked a few times and you knew she wasn’t a huge fan— Abby never liked quickies, especially not on a celebration. She wanted each time she fucked you to be memorable, like a performance — she was a love maker, and to her public quickies were usually just a little… euck.

Her soft smile remained, because the request only told her that you were desperate to have her. All the more reason to make you wait, she thought. Get you real worked up. Yeah, she could have fun with this.

“Not happening, babe. Wanna take my time on you, don’t you wanna have it out with me all night?” She tilted her head, persuading, blowing hot air over your mouth and God — yes, on one hand you wanted that badly but there you go again… eyes trailing off to the right… over to your cheer group. Show them. Drag me up the stairs Abby. Make me walk out the bathroom limping. Show them what they can’t have.

So you said “No!” and you were one quick movement from actually stomping your foot like a child. Abby looked taken aback, but she still chuckled. Not in a mean way, but was it ever? She leant back from you, trying to gauge just what was going on.

“No?”

“I need you here. You… stop denying me they’ll — they’ll see— it’s embarrassing—” The shovels in your hand and you’re digging that hole, deeper, deeper…

“Who will see? See what? Babe what’s with you?” The smile melts off and she’s frowning now. Ohhh, boy. You’ve fucked it up. You blink, like you’re trying to wake up from your petty possession. You look once more and they’re intrigued now, gossiping. Are they fighting? Will Abby be single by the end of the night? This enrages you more, but you don’t have time to react because Abby sees it now. See’s that envious look in your eye, but it’s not really envy — because Abby has never in her life given you a reason to be jealous. It’s uncharacteristic and Abby’s stomach twists a little. “Oh.” She steps back, no no no.

“Sorry.” You splutter out. “Sorry, sorry— I’m sorry Abby I don’t know what that was. I just freaked. I want you to bask in this, people are here to celebrate and you deserve that. Sorry. I don’t… know what I was thinking there.” You try and force out a chuckle at the end to lighten things but it doesn’t come out quite right. Abby watches you for a moment, a little tense and worried. Eventually she gives you a small smile, coming close to you again, a hand on your shoulder.

“S’okay. No more drinks yeah?” She’s gentle and you’re embarrassed, of everything really. This is meant to be the greatest night of Abby’s college career and you’re… doing this. Making it about you. Your shoulders slump a little before you shake yourself off physically.

“Yeah, no. Good call. Whew.” You smile and she smiles back. It’s all okay. You’re okay.

Except it’s not, and she knows that. Things are a little weird now, you’re distracted and trying too hard to please her. Eyes snapping towards her guiltily every time she catches your gaze wandering off, as if scared she’ll see you looking at those girls again fearfully. You stay right by her side, shyness creeping back in. You’re smiling in a polite, forced way, and she can tell you’re not really enjoying yourself anymore. Not after that weird moment. It gets a little later, and the party isn’t in as full of swing as it was before but still pretty lively. She can’t enjoy herself if you’re not, so why bother?

You watch her watch you, her shoulders dropping slightly when she sees how tense you look. Truthfully you were worried, you’d tried to show off — let your possessive urges control you — and now, insecurities at the surface you’d seem to make things worse. You didn’t know why you’d let this pick at you, get under your skin the way it has but the fact they’d all seen you have that weird moment? It was eating you alive. They were probably so smug, probably thought they stood a chance with Abby now. Your Abby.

“Babe let’s just go.” Your attention snaps back towards her, suddenly stood in front of you— her braid resting on her shoulder.

“What?”

“Yeah, no it’s— I can’t enjoy myself if you’re not. I’m not mad, baby I just don’t wanna force you to be here.” You feel so fucking bad.

“Abby, it’s not — I am enjoying myself. This is your party.” You express, coming close to her. Most of the alcohol had worn off by now, and you just felt sick from embarrassment— and this conversation was even more sobering. She shrugs, and looks around. It no longer seems to interest her.

“I know but… I’d rather you just be… not in this mood.” She speaks quietly but you hear her and your face falls. Did you really show yourself up that badly?

“Alright.” You match her pitch, and her back is to you again — saying goodbyes. You can’t look up, can’t look and see their disappointed faces. You wish you could close your ears, to not hear the choruses of ‘Already?’s and ‘Cmon Abby this is your party!’s. But you couldn’t keep your forlorn gaze glued to the ground for long, because you knew people would look at you, see your expression and know it’s your fault she’s leaving prematurely. You cursed yourself for caring too much about what people thought that night, and smiled politely in departure.

Abby took your hand, fingers locked into yours as she walked you toward the door, saying bye to people as she continued moving. You made the mistake of sparing your cheer team a departing look, and they were watching once more — glancing at each other curiously. Liv wiggled her eyebrows playfully as you passed her. “Ooo, someone’s in trouble.” She snickered, and your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t start crying until the car was half way down the street. You’d tried to keep it silent at first. But the car was already silent, the radio not turned on and Abby not saying anything. You didn’t know what the silence meant, you just knew you didn’t like it. Maybe she was reconsidering things. You’d ruined her night, the night that was supposed to be all hers and you took it from her — all because of your petty, jealous, insecurities. That wasn’t the kind of girlfriend she deserved, you were supposed to put all your focus into supporting her. Exist for her. She’d never given you a reason to worry about other girls but for fucks sake — those girls. You let them walk all over you every single day and now they were all talking. All coming up with schemes to take Abby from you, thinking your relationship was on the rocks and maybe it would work. After how you acted tonight, maybe it would fucking work.

You covered your face when the tears started really coming down hard, a quiet sob shuddering out of you. Abby glanced at you, jaw tensing a little. Not because she was angry, just because she was so confused about how you’d gotten here. She’d never seen you like this before and just… what had she done to get you so fucked up like this? She spoke your name, calmly — full of authority and a little detached, not cooing it gently like she would when she’s seen you cry in the past. Her tone made another sob hiccup out, and she spoke it again. “Look at me.”

You did, and you had to wipe the snot from beneath your nose so that it didn’t stick to your hands when you pulled them away. Your makeup was ruined, eyes sore and red and she glanced over you, her main focus on the road.

“Just… breathe and calm down. We are gonna talk about this when we get home.” She shakes her head a little, eyes on the road. Your heart aches and soothes a little at her calling her student apartment ‘home’ like it belonged to the both of you. You don’t have time to indulge the fantasy. “I don’t… understand this… tantrum babe.” She mutters like she’s too mature for it all and she is, which makes you all the more embarrassed. She doesn’t speak for the rest of the journey home, tear drops on her expensive leather seats. Well — she doesn’t speak if you don’t include the occasional “Breathe.” and such when she’d hear your breathing start to pick up, upsetting yourself all over again.

She walked you up to her apartment and you hugged yourself as you stood behind her, watching her unlock her door. She held the door open for you, but didn’t look at you when you walked through — unsurely looking around like you’d never been there before. You wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. Did she want to talk now?

You stood in the hallway and her warm hands gently came down onto your shoulders.

“Go sit down on the couch.”

When Abby tells you what to do, you do it. And not because she’s scary, or intimidating or aggressive. She just carries this… air to her. One that makes you want to respect her, no matter how worked up or pissed off or upset you are. It would be the same way every single time, she’ll calmly make a demand and you fucking do it. Of course, minus the mini ‘tantrum’, as she so kindly put it, you had.

She didn’t follow you, infact — she walked the other way to her bedroom, hearing the door click shut when you made your way into her living room area. The leather couch that was usually home to so much love and affection now cold against your skin when you sit down on it, the sleek material frigid from not being touched for hours on end. You bring your knees together shivering a little, and a few minutes later Abby returns. She wields a makeup wipe, and presses it into your palm silently when she lowers herself into the arm chair opposite you. You want to cry out like a baby and reach for her, ask her why she’s sitting so far away but you have to be good. You have to fix everything.

Abby’s thighs spread as she leans forward, staring you down analytically with her elbows on her knees, long fingers wringing her wrists before she looks down at them, puffing out her cheeks with a long exhale. You wait for her to speak, wiping the gooey eye makeup up from your cheeks and eyes.

“Tell me… what this is all about.” Her voice holds a quiet kindness this time, despite the line that appears between her brows as her expression becomes a little exasperated.

You suck in a quick breath, eager to explain yourself and beg for forgiveness — “Nothing I was just being —”

“The truth.” She raised her hand to speak which silenced you instantly. You press your lips together, letting two fat residual tears race down your cheeks either side, the left tear winning victoriously when it surpassed your jaw and streamed lazily along your neck. Abby watched it move.

You thought this time. No more covering it up. No more being immature. Be truthful. What was this all about again?

“I think…” You gulped, willing yourself to be brave. You knew Abby might not see you as a ‘chill’ girlfriend anymore— exposing your insecurities and jealousy — but she wanted the truth and being a liar was objectively worse. “The girls on my cheer team are… I think they’re picking on me.” You admit quietly and her brows jump up, intrigued. Not quite what she was expecting. She stays quiet and you carry on. “I’m not… I don’t wanna be toxic and jealous. I let it get the better of me tonight. They’re always… flirting with you, talkin’ about you, showing off to you, trying to get your attention and at first I didn’t care because, I have you, you know? And you’ve never given me any reason to believe your eyes have wandered but fuck it’s so hard when they’re just… relentless. And beautiful and confident and I’m… I know what people think Abby. I know I’m shy and people wonder how…” You trail off, and you’re not sure you wanna admit any more. Not after that explosive rant.

“People wonder how what?” She pushes, and she’s scooched so far onto the edge of her seat that her long legs are bunched up and she’s barely perched on it.

“Wonder how… I got you. Why you stay with me.”

The confusion just melts off her face.

She blinks a couple of times, feeling like someone just placed her heart in a panini press hearing your sad and small tone of voice. So small, and she can tell you really believe what you’re saying and it just kills her. She wants to reach out then and there and hold you and kiss you and cry for you but you’re talking again.

“And I know you’re not a trophy and I don’t see you that way, please don’t think I ever—”

“No, no no no.” Abby cuts you off as a correction, eyes shut as she scrubs a hand down her face. She gets it now. The jealousy. Clearly, you hadn’t noticed the wandering eyes of her basketball team players, smirking over at you when your little cheer skirt that was too short for everyone’s good would flip up, shaking your hips in your adorable little routines. How if she didn’t keep you on her arm at every party, frat boys would start to circle you like crows, waiting to pounce until they realise, holy shit that’s Abby’s girl, and back off. If anyone got it, it was her. “You don’t need to explain anymore I’m… sorry. Come here, please.” Her pained expression relieves you and also devastates you because now she’s blaming herself.

You listen, again, because it’s Abby and you push off the couch to stand in front of her on the arm chair. She pulls you to sit sideways on her leg, thick arms wrapping around your waist protectively. She looks up at you, brows furrowed.

“You are beautiful. I don’t… want anyone else. Ever. I love you, baby. You know I love you? You know I don’t give a fuck about any of those other girls. They’re not you they’re not… c’mon.” That gentle cooing voice has broken through and more tears slide down your raw cheeks. She’s wiping them away this time, coarse thumb swiping the moisture until it absorbs into her skin, becoming apart of her.

You sniffle, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry. This is your night and you’re comforting me. I promise I’m happy for you.” You hiccup into her neck when she pulls you in, and you feel her shake her head because her braid tickles your arm.

“I don’t care.” She chuckles honestly and cups your face to pull you back, make you look at her. She’s so beautiful you want to cry some more. “I don’t. It could be my birthday and I’d still look after you. You’re my girl, yeah? You over everything.” She exaggerates, moving her head slightly to meet your eyes when you try to shamefully drift them away.

“Kay. Love you, Abby. M’so lucky.” She feels you sigh in relief and your body relaxes just a little bit. Her hands slide around your back and press into the muscle, massaging and rubbing — trying to get you to just melt and become one with her when you cuddle her.

“I’m lucky.” She speaks into your temple, pressing kisses there. She manages to gently manoeuvre you until her lips are pressing the same quick succession of kisses onto your swollen pouty lips. She hums in satisfaction and you feel something stir in your tummy. The hum was almost primal, one that said ‘this is mine.’ You wanted to hear the noise again. Without too much thought behind it, you turn to sit on her lap fully, facing her now. You pull yourself closer with your arms around her neck and your kisses begin to dot along her jawline. Come on Abby, make the pretty noise.

She sighs, tilting her head for your access and thinks. Thinks over everything that had just happened. Maybe she hadn’t done enough, her brain had been so focused on winning the game that perhaps she’d forgotten to reassure you when you needed it, and she knew how important reassurance was in a relationship. An urge spread through her body, starting in her stomach like an icy cold lake and travelling up to her chest like molten lava. The urge to just… give you everything. Everything you wanted and needed. Everything you couldn’t ask for and everything she should have given you. Abby had always harboured a ‘spoiling’ side, and in that moment it had kicked in hard.

She pulled the strap of your dress off your shoulder, letting your head tip back this time as she sucked and nipped at the soft skin there. She loved how opposite you were to her, when she was sweaty and rough around the edges after a game you were still impossibly soft everywhere, still smelled sweet and clean and like you, like she was a wild lion coming to lay her cheek in your gentle hand after slaughtering a deer.

You squirmed on her lap and Abby jumped between your lips and your skin, feeling that beautifully familiar warmth begin to spread through your underwear again. Starting with your clit starting to throb when she’d gently buck her thighs below you — all the way to your hole that started to ache and crave the feeling of her inside. Her tongue lapped up your own, sucking obscenely as her hands pushed your lower back, bringing you higher on her lap and— oh?

You were now sitting atop a bulge. One that wasn’t there at the party. You thought back to her disappearing into her room as you sat down on the couch when you’d arrived back at the apartment and smiled at the feeling against her lips. So calculated, Abby — and she smiled back because she knew. Knew she was gonna have to fuck the attitude out of you after your talk, she just didn’t expect you to fold so easily. For it to take such an emotional direction. She could just tease you for being a cry baby, but where’s the fun in that?

You start to grind like you just can’t help yourself, your shared saliva pooling beneath your pouty bottom lip as the kisses became more sloppy and intense. You swore you could never get over how good it felt to hump against her jeans in just your panties, the combination of materials and the writhing of your hips always leaving you gasping. Abby too, the way the strap was positioned would press snugly against her clit making her breath stutter against your lips. She refocused herself, fingers tugging your dress up to your waist. Enough had been about her tonight she’d decided, now she wanted to make it all about you.

You detached for a moment to pull your dress over your head, lips meeting once more as she tossed it aside. Next came the unclasping of your bra, and then she was sliding your thong down your legs. When she balled it up to chuck aside she felt the wetness in her palm.

You stood over her now, the one time you weren’t shy — stark naked. She’d made you so comfortable over the ten months you’d been together it wasn’t even something you’d take a second worrying about anymore, Abby knowing the map of your body like the back of her hand. She made you feel so safe with her gentle-ness. Abby, big scary Abigail Anderson, Abby ‘i’ll beat your fucking face in if you step up to me outside the basketball court, no seriously repeat what the fuck you just said’ Anderson. And you’ve reduced her to this gentle, loving giant. Someone who was rubbing her big hand up your tummy as her thighs caged you in where you stood. Reaching for your breast and just rolling her thumb over your nipple making your legs quiver a little. All her stoicism that everyone else knew her for had melted away, her eyes soft and loving as she gazed at you, touching you.

She reached up and began tugging her jersey off over her head, leaving her in the grey hoodie. Where you expected her to toss it aside with the heap that was your pink dress and underwear, she brought her attention to it, bunching it up and opening up the head hole of the shirt. “C’mere.” She muttered, standing up over you, your neck suddenly craning to meet her eye. “Put it on. Fuck those other girls cheap ass jerseys. My girl gets the real deal.” She’s speaking so quietly that you feel like she’s talking to herself, that you shouldn’t intrude her stream of thoughts — even if the words made you literally clench your hole so tight you could crush a fucking walnut in there.

She slipped it over your head and pulled your arms through the arm holes, stepping back with her hands on your shoulders so she could look at you. Look down at you. See the way you stared up at her tall frame, her jersey swamping you and resting beneath the swell of the plump under-cup of your ass cheeks. “Looking good babe.” She smiles, holding you back to carry on looking at you even when you try and lurch forward, hands loose-fisted and grabby as you try and climb all up on her again where she stood. She subdued you by taking your hand, walking away and practically dragging you along behind her. “C’mon, this way. Not fucking you on the couch.” Though it wouldn’t be the first time.

She had you on her lap again in no time, her feet planted heavily on the floor as you press into her cloaked strap, legs stretched over her thighs making you ache in that delicious way that said nothing more than ‘my girlfriend is fucking huge, the gym fears her’. Impatient, you’re tugging her hand that was cupping your throat, pushing it down, down between your thighs. She pulls away, a little breathless with her mouth all red when she slides her fingers through your cunt, eyes on your hard nipples creating little mountain peaks against her jersey as you breathe heavy in her face. “Soaked, baby. Have you been needing me like this all night?” She’s whispering before her lips are on yours again, stroking your little bundle of nerves head on, making your legs flatten out and tense in the air with a quiet yelp. “I know.” She hums, and that’s all it takes to soothe you. Yes, she knows. She always knows. It was Abby for gods sake, if anyone knew exactly what you needed… well.

After torturous stroking, Abby’s middle finger curls down right to where your hole is, pressing and massaging and teasing. She knows you want her inside, you want more than her fingers, fuck — if you could you’d just consume her whole but this will definitely do the trick. “I want you,” she starts, slurred by the open mouth kiss she’s pressing to your shoulder now. “To ask me nicely. Not like you did earlier. Show me my good girl.” She whispered, like it was one last attempt at being strict before she just gave in and spoiled you. It fooled you, anyways— your mouth falling open with a whine as her thumb pressed up against your clit.

“Please Abby— ‘ll be a good girl now okay? Wanna be your good girl.” You’re blabbering against her cheek and she doesn’t fight you on it, pushing inside you and basking in the way you give her a welcoming squeeze upon entry.

“How are you still so tight? After I’ve abused that pretty pussy so many times?” She sighs, tone suggesting that she’s actually pondering it at a moment like this. You don’t have the strength to respond, fucking against her fingers. You loved foreplay with Abby, don’t ever doubt that for a second — but tonight there was something different, it just felt like preparation. The two of you knew that tonight of all nights you needed to get fucked with her cock, and that would be the main event. She could barely wait, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t loosen you up around her callous digits first so she can slip right inside of you easily.

She slips another finger inside you and you black out a little bit, like you always do. Maybe it was all the emotions finally catching up with you, but you just go limp in her lap, letting her finger fuck you the way you need. “Prettiest girl ever. Don’t know what the fuck you were worried about. Gonna fuck it out your brain tonight, yeah?” She’s cooing again and she knows that’s your sweet spot, that tone of voice doing it for you every damn time. If anything was gonna make you cum quick, it’s gonna be the sympathetic drag of her voice as she ensures you that you don’t have to think anymore.

“Yeah Abby, please! Yeah!” You sound pornagraphic and your spine flushes hot at the idea of the surrounding students in her neighbouring apartments hearing any of this — though it wouldn’t be the first time (as told by the passive aggressive post-it note left on her door reading ‘Keep it down we don’t all need to hear your girl busting a nut.’ that one time. You didn’t live down the humiliation for a week, and Abby of course only took it as a challenge to make you moan louder despite your pleas of ‘Abby! You’re going to get kicked out of your building!’ whilst her head was in your crotch. Anyway—)

She was practically vibrating her hand at this point, fingers squelching in and out of you with sounds so mortifying that if you weren’t experiencing such euphoria perhaps you’d bury your face into her cuss her out for embarrassing you. You, were slurring a made up language made of her name, curse words and just down-right vulgarity as you felt your stomach lock up in that scaldingly familiarly way. Abby chuckled, smug at your babbling, responding with “Yeah?” and “Uh-huh?” until you were clenching hard around her fingers halting their movement slightly, which gave her the green light to move onto “Thats it baby, cum for me. Just getting started with you tonight. Give it to me, pretty girl.”

You went numb, pretty much everywhere but your cunt — something high pitched and feral deafening you through the impending white noise of your orgasm — wait, was that you? You could hardly breathe, and when some feeling returned to you, you felt stickiness all along the inner sides of your thighs and seeping into the rough denim of Abby’s lap below you. Jesus… did she make you—?

“Shit babe, fucking… baptised me there.” She pants, like she was the one that just received an earth shattering orgasm and you collapse against the strong muscle of her shoulder, trying to self soothe— trying to ground yourself. You twitched, her fingers stilling within you at the tell-tale sign of overstimulation. She pulled them out, rubbing her thumb on your bare hip as she pressed her chin to her chest looking down between your bodies, admiring the gooey mess you’d left on her. “Already got a little fountain going on down there baby, we haven’t even been going at it for that long.” She teases with a grin in a way you know is meant to be praise because as soon as you lift your head she’s attacking your hot cheeks with kisses.

“S’embarrassing.” You whimper, despite your small giddy smile and she tsks a little, hand creeping up to your throat, holding your sturdily there.

“If you’re still finding things embarrassing, it’s because I haven’t fucked all those bad thoughts from today out that pretty little head yet. You still want it?” She’s speaking against your lips now, effortlessly pushing her hips up beneath you and rolling her strap into your sensitive cunt again. Is that even a question?

“Still— still want it—”

You weren’t finished speaking, and Abby is moving at the speed of light. She cups your beneath your ass with one hand, still using your delicate neck as her main grabbing point— she twists the two of you, so suddenly you’re on your back and she’s hovering over you, all in one quick succession that makes your head spin. Your back bounces against the bed, bounces you into her and her thumb soothes over your throat. “Hands still working baby?” She kisses the corner of your mouth. You flex your fingers out of her vision, testing.

“Yes.”

“Undo my belt then, pretty.” It’s clear she still needs both of her hands to caress you, so you get to work, shakily reaching for the leather tucked within the denim waistband of her jeans. It’s smooth and feels expensive beneath your fingers, and the sound of the buckle clinking makes you squeeze out more of the residual arousal you’d spewed out only minutes prior. It’s like she can tell it does something for you, because her tough pads of her fingers come and rest on your sensitive clit again, just rubbing slow lethargic circles making it harder to pull the belt out of the loops. “Thats my girl.” She helps you, taking the belt and placing it aside.

She does the rest, because you just weren’t moving efficiently enough for her liking, one hand sliding up your soft arm until she’s pinning your wrist gently to the bed, fingers intertwining with yours, and the other hand deftly unpopping the button of her jeans and sliding the zipper down. She pulls the familiar plastic cock out, adjusting her hips and resting the shaft along your tummy, tip grazing just below your belly button. “Think you’re ready for me now?” She leans forward, nudging your chin with her own to get your lips where she needed to capture them, sucking on your bottom lip barely allowing you to sigh out a pleasured “Uh-huh.” against her.

She sits up, pulling her hoodie off leaving her in just a fitted black wifebeater and the pace of everything changes all of a sudden. It’s less desperate and more purposeful, coming into her dominance and remaining control like she always did. She leant over you, reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer and leant back, drizzling it over the shaft. You reached forward without thinking and massaged it around for her, looking up at her with those big needy puppy dog eyes. She groaned, like you were actually jerking her off — greedily yanking her jersey up to sit above your plush tits for her viewing pleasure.

“Fuck… so pretty… Alright baby, deep breath in for me.”

She looked so good like this, hair stuck to her face and neck, jeans pulled just below her peachy ass being cupped by the ropey black harness. The royal blue plastic glistening as she slides it up and down your willing cunt. Her biceps bulging from holding herself up above you, making you just want to sink your teeth into her. Abby was a work of fucking art.

You follow her instructions, Abby kissing away your strained whimpers at the stretch. It only made sense that Abby Anderson, home to all BDE — was weighed down by a fucking monster of a strap, 7 and a half inches, thick and dark blue with added detail of veins and a fat tip. When you first slept together, after one very successful date, sitting on her lap in that little innocent floral dress that rode up your doughy thighs just right — she thought about calling the whole thing off until she could get her hands on a strap a little smaller and less threatening. Until, of course — your wide and blameless eyes were staring up at her, hand barely wrapping around it as you thickly muttered out a ‘I can take it Abby. Let me take you’, and the rest is obviously history.

She sighed out once she was fully seated in you, like it was a relief, like one day you might not be able to take her fully and she’d have to practise even more self restraint by thrusting in halfsies. You tensed up, suddenly aware of the situation again. A spike of sickly anxiety washed through your stomach. Did you deserve this? After the havoc you caused today? “Pretty girl. Let me in that head.” She whispers and it hypnotises you as she thrusts slowly, just grinding her hips against yours.

“Don’t — mmphm— don’t deserve this.” Your voice is high and a little panicked, and Abby’s eyes open to pin you down with her grounding gaze. She knocks your chin up gently toward her as if to say ‘look at me.’ and she rests her hand over your chest, feeling the hammering of your heart as you very suddenly become overwhelmed.

“Hey.” She drags calmly, raising her eyebrows. You try and relax, copying her breathing because you knew she was about to tell you to do that anyway. “Sweet girl.” She thumbs your cheek. “You deserve every last inch of this fucking cock.” She’s whispering again and you cry, hard. She picks up on what you need, and she presses up deeper into you, making your legs flail before wrapping tightly around her ass, your tits bouncing obscenely to the rhythm of her thrusts. “My perfect girl. Don’t have to worry about anything ever again. Yeah? Gonna fucking… go pro ball, make you my pretty little courtside wife. How’s that sound?” She starts to thrust a bit harder and you’re stunned out of your freak out session, distracted by her words and overcome by pleasure as you just listen. Interested to see where this fantasy will go.

“Yes.” Is all you manage and it’s barely audible but she hears it, and carries on.

“Gonna make it to WNBA for you baby. Not for me. So I can spoil you for the rest of my fucking life.” She grits her teeth, her big rough hands sliding around your back so she can cradle you, use your body to fuck you on and off her cock. You whine, barely aware of the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. “You wanna give me that baby? Let me buy you every pair of shoes and stupidly priced handbags so you can look pretty for me at every game? Yeah?” Her voice is higher pitched and you think she might cum at some point, but she’s too determined to fuck your lights out completely for any of that.

“W—want that Abs, want you— I want —”

She’s interrupting, not finished with stuffing this fantasy into your brain until there’s nothing there but the manifestation of those thoughts. “You won’t even remember those girls on your cheer squad. They’ll be nobodies. You think I’d ever fucking look at anyone else but you, hm? My pretty little wife?”

Just when you think things can’t get more intense, she’s decided that she’s not physically deep enough — and pushes your thighs up to your chest, knees squishing against your tits as she stretched you, grunting out a “Fuck”, a sign of her losing control for a second. “N’then after every game. Can take you.. fuck, can take you shopping, fly you out wherever you want. Slut you out, just like this. You want that life baby don’t you? You wanna give me that life?” Your brain is muddled, and you can’t tell if you’re begging her or she’s begging you. Your mouth is open, but the air is punched from you and you’re just squeaking like a dog toy and she pounds your little cunt.

She reaches for what seems to be your on button, shoving her thumb between your lifted legs and grinding your abused clit again. “Wanna— wanna be your wife Abby. Want — I wanna—” You’re rambling, and then you’re cumming, harder than you’ve cum in your life. Your throat is raw, nails clawing for something, some kind of life support as she fucks you through your orgasm, breathless and determined. You vaguely feel yourself marking up her skin with your nails, but you’re never fully aware of yourself doing it — always just as shocked and guilty when you see the red streaks across her freckled skin the next morning whilst she’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom with a towel around her waist.

“Good girl. My good fucking girl you take it all. Take what I’m giving you.”

And you do, because when she goes to slow down you’re whining and bucking against her strap— fuck drunk and obsessive, finally getting to that dumb place she needs you to be able to rid of all those negative ideas you had about yourself earlier. She lets you breathe as she thinks about it, thinks about the way you misbehaved and the way you wouldn’t use your words. Maybe there was still more in you, more room for some reinforcement.

That’s why approximately five minutes later you had your cheek to the pillow having been pressed there by the basketball captain herself, Abby’s foot up on the bed and your ass in the hair as she drilled into your weeping pussy.

She pushes your back down, against the protests and your cries and your “Can’t Abs, so deep!” muttering for you to “Just fucking take it, sweet girl. I’m not asking.”

You give in and let her, already feeling yourself close to another animalistic style orgasm which only leaves your heart aching for your peeved neighbours that were probably just trying to sleep.

“You gonna listen next time, huh?” You don’t know how she has the endurance to keep slamming into you like this, wife beater pulled up above her sweat-gleaming abs now to not obstruct her vision of her creamy strap pounding in and out your soft flushed pussy. “You tell me when you fucking need me, yeah? You tell me when you’re feeling a type of way and you need me to reassure you from now on.” She waits a beat, and you wail. “Say yes.” She adds in command.

“Yeees!” You cry.

“Say yes Abby.”

“Yes Abby!”

You’re pretty much on autopilot at this point, brain so empty that all it knows is to do exactly what Abby says at all times, chasing that lingering tight coil in your stomach that whispered ‘cum one more time for her’ in your ear in a saccharine sweet voice that just about convinced you. Adding onto the persuasion, Abby’s weight dropped a little more onto you, hot torso against your back and hips grinding feverishly into you still. “Give me one more then. One more and that’s it baby. Keep being good for me.”

So you do, again, and this one is different from the rest — it’s your last drop, your last spot of energy. You’re weeping and grabbing and you feel it ooze out of you around the punishing blue plastic, and when you’ve done it Abby gets softer, kissing your spine and pulling out, so much praise your brain can’t even register it through your submissive fog.

“Did so good baby. So perfect, angel. Love you so much, my girl.”

She was cleaning you up before you could blink with a cold wet wipe from her bed side draw, practically scooping out endless amounts of your creamy arousal as you whimper at the sensitivity.

“Cold” You whisper, and you’re not sure if it was by choice seeing as you didn’t think you had a voice at that point.

“I know.” She chuckled, voice low and hands gentle— stroking the backs of your thighs as you stay on your front, legs trembling now as the adrenaline dwindles in your body. “Did so good for me. Let’s roll you over.”

She’s kicked off her jeans and her harness, now just in her boxers and wife beater— eyes flickering to your hands tugging at the jersey.

“Want it off. Wanna feel you.” You mumble sleepily once you’re on your back, desperately craving your skin on hers. She cradles your neck as she obliges, slipping the material up and over your head and pulling you into her.

You knew she carried on doting on you after you’d fallen asleep, and truthfully you don’t remember when you fell asleep — somewhere between her wiping you down and peppering kisses across your whole body — but like usual, her strap had knocked you the fuck out, and before you knew it you were waking up, disorientated by the morning sun flooding in through the blinds. Your senses start to arrive back to your body and you note them off like a checklist in your foggy brain. Touch, Abby’s arms locked around your waist. Sight, the blinding laser beam of sun attacking your eyeballs. Smell, Abby. Hearing, Abby. And the birds tweeting.

You roll, twisting in her arms so that your head was tucking beneath her chin against her chest, breathing her in and relishing in the way her skin stayed warm through the night like an electric blanket, unlike your own — cold to the touch from kicking off your side of the duvet.

She’s still fast asleep, always the heavy sleeper and after the game and the party you decide that big girl needs her rest, even if you’re now wide awake and staring at her. She looked like a painting, pouty lips swollen from a night of kissing, honeyed hair still in its braid but totally messed up now, pale blonde baby hairs sticking up and around her face. Her dark lashes kissed beneath her eyes and her chest moved up and down like the slow rocking of a small boat on a calm tide. You smiled when the sun slid further into the sky and created a beam across her eyes, making her scrunch them in her sleep and bury her face into the pillow.

You remember peeing last night now, before you’d fallen asleep — Abby carrying your warm, dazed body to the bathroom and sitting you on the toilet, letting you lean your cheek against her tummy to hold you up as you pee’d, gently shushing your complaints about removing you from the bed.

“S’not good for you to hold your pee after sex, babe.”

“M’sleepy. ‘Don’t care if I get a UFO.”

“UTI. And I care.”

You slowly slide out the bed careful not to wake your girlfriend, on a hunt for your phone. You pull Abby’s jersey back over your head for coverage and tiptoe out the room. Where did you put your bag again? You find it tossed on the couch haphazardly where you left it and fished through it, leaning on the back of her leather couch as you scrolled through. Your thumb tapped the Instagram logo and loaded it up, automatically gravitating towards Abby’s story, displayed at the top of the screen. You pressed it, expecting to see some kind of victory shot of her holding the trophy or a picture with her team, but instead were met with a photo of you that she’d taken when you’d fallen asleep last night— your head turned the other way on the pillow, arms tucked beneath it. Bare back glowing in the dim light of the room, bed covers resting at your waist. The caption reads: ‘Future WNBA wife.’ followed by your @.

Any other day you might gasp, due to the nature of the picture being that — well — it’s clear even to the untrained eye that you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. But you grin, glowing from the inside out. She was showing you off, indirectly reassuring you even more because she knows you need it. You press a heart on the story, stepping in the direction of the bedroom to attack her sleepy face with kisses— but your eyes catch on the kitchen instead.

The perks of dating someone with such a buff body, was that they always would be stocked up on plenty of food. Not like your dorm, thinking back to the microwave meals and tins of soup stocked up in your kitchen made you grimace. You swung open her refrigerator door, gathering ingredients to whip her up a winners breakfast.

Having made everything from scratch, by the time the breakfast was nearly ready you’d heard Abby stir and climb out of bed, disturbed by the accidental clattering of pots and pans. The water ran for a while, and as you turned off the stove — removing her frying pan of eggs, you’d heard her heavy feet plodding into the room.

You nearly burnt yourself at the sight of her, sweatpants pulled up low on her waist, no shirt, red scratches from your overexcited claws the night before wrapping around her bicep and over her left shoulder, assumably trailing down onto her back, and her hair down — a little damp, falling messily across her small chest. You offered her a small smile as she took in the scene, looking very serious about it too you might add. Turning around back to the chopping board to prepare some turkey bacon for her you felt her crowd you. A shadow casted over you. You were suddenly smaller.

“Makin’ me breakfast? Was I that good?” She rasped, huge hands sliding around your waist — instantly dwarfing you some more.

“Mhm. Breakfast for a winner.” You chirped quietly, too early to be excitable.

“Really leaning into this whole housewife thing aren’t you baby?” She chuckles and your face heats up. Is it that obvious? She presses kisses to the side of your neck, hands grabbing you all over. Involuntarily, you arch your back— pressing your ass into her crotch and she winces.

You freeze up, knife clattering out of your hand onto the wooden chopping board and brows furrowing at the way her fingers tighten around your waist, lips by your temple now. You’re practically pinned to the counter, hands flexed wide on the smooth surface when you grind back against her again experimentally.

She’d never admit it, but last night had left her wanting, which she expected was selfishness considering she vowed to make it all about you. She pulled you back against her, your plush ass beneath just her jersey thumping against her clit again — nothing but that and the material of her sweatpants brushing up against her swollen button. You whimpered a little, not making it better for anyone and found your rhythm, rubbing and humping back on her, feeling her exposed tits against your back. “Like this?” You whine, and tug up the jersey so your bare ass is on display now, just a vessel for Abby to get off on.

“Just like that, pretty.”

The sight makes her push into you a little harder, bending you over the counter when there’s nowhere else to go. She continues humping you, leaning over you and kissing you, curling her toes against the tiles until she explodes into quiet, low gasps and groans— leaking into the grey material as you help her along with encouraging noises.

“Fuck babe, fuckprettygirl— my god.” She pants, leaning over you and pressing a kiss onto your back before tugging your jersey back down with a chuckle after a minute of panting and coming down. “Gonna put me back to sleep.” She gives your ass a loving slap, grabbing the flesh of it in her meaty hand before walking around you to lean against the counter top tiredly. You giggle, shaky hands getting back to food prep as she watches you with fond eyes. “How you feeling? All good?” She analyses, mind still on your series of mini freak out’s the night before.

Your eyes are on the turkey as you continue slicing shyly. “Sore. But all good.”

“Sorry baby.” Her thumb rubs your arm sympathetically.

“No I— I like it. Like feeling you the next day.” You don’t look at her, you can’t, but you know she’s grinning.

“Good.”

She disappears for a minute and reappears with her phone, scrolling, checking notifications. You begin to plate up her breakfast, feeling her hands wrap around your waist again, her phone held by your chest as her chin rests on your shoulder, leaning over you. “Your little friends saw my story of you. Think by now they get the message.” She smirks and you giggle, turning your head to kiss her on the cheek.

“I think so too.”

“If not, I’ll just have to make it clearer, yeah? ‘ll fuck you infront of ‘em if that’s what it takes.”

Your eyes widen as she backs off, going to help you plate up the big breakfast you’d made. You didn’t think that would be necessary anymore, feeling much more secure now but your achey, abused core twitched at the idea anyway— not totally against it.

You’ll pocket that for later.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

AAA I really love your alastor movie night story! Any chance you can make a part 3 ? 🥺

Absolutely! so sorry i got to you late but i wasn’t ignoring just preparing! i hope you enjoy this one too, although it’s not movie centred this time, rather a continuation of the last!

Part [1] [2] (although technically it could be read as a stand alone)

Summary: Alastor wasn’t proud of his admission during the movie night, instead he decided to treat you to a surprise date, one where he can get a better feeling on what his emotions are.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol drinking, Alastor who’s not pleased with romantic emotions, possibly ooc?, alastor mentions knowing french, homie manipulates the surroundings with his magic, no bodytype/hairtype/skin colour mentions, i think that’s it! lmk!

word count: 2.4k

Alastor wasn’t too familiar with the current feeling he was experiencing, but he knew it was related to romance. The way his heart thumped, and his mind always seemed to fall back to thought of you that night. You seemed to be highly interested in him, not only as a powerful overlord, but as his less interesting mortal self, and that made not only his ego kick start but his heart. After the stunt he pulled, telling you he loved you, and kissing you softly, he knew he was in trouble.

He thanked all the unholy that the next day you didn’t seem to spread the news like wildfire around the hotel, however he did speak to Rosie about such affairs, as she would be the one to know best. The trip was like any others he took to Rosie’s but this time he got plentiful advice concerning love, romance, dates and the other unsavoury aspects he mentioned he’d rather hear little of.

That brought him to tonight, in his room was a make up of land that was much like the foliage he had back in his home in New Orleans. Since you seemed very interested in his home life, he decided to set up a date around it, show you a little of what his home was like. It made him feel sickeningly domestic, preparing to show you something near and dear to his heart, like opening up his memories and displaying them just for you. He set up nice wood table for the two of you to eat at, with some of his favourite dishes set out, even the deserts he wasn’t a fan of he laid out just in case you wanted to try some.

Around his room sprung up some weeping willow trees, the wooden floor turned to dirt as well as grass, and the forest that was once there became a bayou, what you were so curious about during the movie. He decided to share some of his other past, voodoo artifacts he replicated from his past life, some old songs he was a big fan of, as well as one of his old dictionaries that had both French and English. Alastor made some other arrangements, his shadows were forced to play jazz, he magicked some fireflies to light up the false sky above, he essentially created an illusion of the woods near his home, aside from the bayou.

Closing the door to his bedroom he materialised his microphone tossing it up once before taking a confident stride. It was time to put on the southern charm he knew he could effortlessly woo you with. As he sauntered down the hall he began to get more nervous, after all that night was all about the movie, what if it wasn’t true what you had said?

He didn’t have time to dwell, lifting his hand he knocked rhythmically on your door, waiting patiently as you shuffled around. Opening the door, you were shocked to trail your eyes across the radio demon, you half expected to see Angel, as he’s been pestering you ever since he picked up on you eyeing Alastor more often. Fixing your posture you smiled at him, feeling a little self conscious that he caught you at a time you looked, well, not great. You were in leisure clothes, relaxed and had been laying in bed all day.

“How’re you Alastor, can I help ya?” You ask, quirking your head to the side. Alastor barged into your room pushing past you, perhaps when you first met him you’d be unsettled but you’ve come to love Alastor’s presence and the way he carried himself; even the tad bit annoying aspects like barging in uninvited. “Oh my dear I am just fantastical! And I was oh so hoping you’d join me for dinner tonight?” Your eyebrows raised as you shut the bedroom door, Alastor had been in your room before but he noted little upgrades like a record player, some photos of you and the group plastered against a mirror.

You looked down at your attire, and looked to the clock. “Uhm, like how soon is dinner? I look a mess Al.” You sighed softly not wanting to reject him but also immediately feeling pressure to be and look your best. Alastor flicked his wrist, tossing his head back in disbelief. “Please my dear don’t think of me so lowly.” Before you can respond to his random comment he snapped his fingers and suddenly you body felt hugged by new fabrics. Gazing down at yourself you were greeted by formal garments that were clearly from the late nineteen twenties.

Smiling softly at the gesture you looked up at Al who was already looking at you through lidded eyes, his hands clasped in front of him. “You look wonderful darling, truly.” Although still boisterous sounding, it was a lot more tame and meaningful than his prior theatrics. Alastor couldn’t deny the way he felt looking at you doused in clothes from his time, it made him feel something firey within him. Slowly he offered his hand to you, a charming smile upon his face. “Shall we dear?”

Now you both stood at Alastor’s bedroom door, he was tense and nervous about how you’d react. Regardless of how he presented himself with his suit and his pious demeanour, he was still that louisiana man who had a big heart for his home and the culture surrounding it and didn’t want judgement surrounding some of his favourite aspects about home like the cricket noises, swamp, and of course the food. It was a new and interesting worry since being in hell as he didn’t really worry about his past life since, but the night you two shared opened his eyes.

Finally pulling himself together Alastor pushed opened the bedroom door, stepping aside with a ‘ladies first’. It was gorgeous, the moment you walked it you were hypnotized. Obviously, Alastor grew up in the more outback of New Orleans since his entire aesthetic was mossy forests and obviously the deer hunting, however this was a beauty beyond compare. There was a mock up night sky above, firefly’s lit the way to a small table displayed with foods. There was tall and short grass all around, as well as willow trees that sagged low dusting the ground with their leaves. On the furthest side of the room, on the other side of the table, there was a bayou you could see as you walked in. On the mossy murky water there were lilipads with frogs croaking out, that paired with the crickets gave a soothing camp like ambiance.

Grinning widely, Alastor smiled, pulling your chair out for you to sit. Once seated he sat across from you, you were glad it wasn’t one of those long tables but something closer and personal, where you could still reach over and touch him. “I thought since you seemed to enjoy that movie so much, y’know, I can’t show you my home but i can show you parts of it.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely, you had no idea how he did it, and you took another sweep around the room soaking up all that you could see. “Alastor, this is amazing! I can’t express my gratitude and also excitement that you were willing to do all this.” You admit getting shyer as the sentence went on; the weight of the act dawning on you. Alastor hummed, eyes closed as well as his smile, and to you it seemed like his typical indifference he was keen on displaying, however the truth was Alastor had no clue how to properly respond to it. You had inadvertently pointed out the fact he went out of his way for you, with his magic on top of that, and that wasn’t something he was proud of.

Snapping his fingers, the shadows he’d forced into musicians began their strumming, and singing. You jumped a bit at the sound, although you did recognize the song being played, which surprised you. “So Al, can I ask what possessed you to pull this together?” Alastor, who was in the middle of serving the two of you some red wine, paused briefly, if you looked close enough at his smile and his eyes you’d be able to see the hesitancy behind them.

Closing the bottle he placed it back on the table, and took a sip, stalling his response. “My dear, we had quite the night together didn’t we? That movie opened up some interesting doors.” The non answer-answer Alastor gave you made you a tad bit nervous. Saying nothing you sipped your wine, and took in his appearance. Despite the date being a formal situation, he was dressed more relaxed, not by much this was Alastor. However he did have his suit jacket set aside, he wore a washed out looking red button up, with his red vest and he still had his tie on. It was quite the rare sight, you’ve barely seen him look normal, he’s always playing that character that’s immune to everything others aren’t; no matter if it were demons or humans.

Deciding that it was better to enjoy your time with him then pester about his intentions; you knew who Alastor was and the horrific things he could do, and you still chose to ignore it. It’s more fun that way. Digging into your food the two of you made small talk, mainly Alastor as he explained certain dishes and tid bits on his mothers version of the cooking, as well as certain voodoo topics and misconceptions. The longer the wine set in, the more you flirted, and although Alastor wasn’t as affected by the wine as you were, he still returned the gestures with a soft smile.

“I didn’t know you spoke french, what?” You leaned on the table resting the side of your head on your palm, the food that was once on the table gone. “Yes my dear! New Orleans is bilingual.” The deer laughed cheerily at the awe and wonder in your eyes, as if it was such a spectacular thing. “That’s pretty hot, y'know laddies n lads love the french language.” Taking another sip of your wine, Alastor followed in suit, sipping his wine smile relaxed. “I really only care for what you think.” With the deep hushed tone he said the sentence in, made heat crawl from your neck to the pit of your stomach. “Well I think it’s pretty hot.”

You bit your nail watching Alastor’s ears twitch at your words. “Such gamy words dear, couldn’t you express yourself through more appropriate terms?” Alastor chided playfully, wiggling his figure at you. You grinned, biting your lip with mischief in mind. Tapping your lip, you looked up, giving an exaggerated impression that you were in a contemplative state. Then, perking up, finger in the air with a ‘light bulb’ expression you sarcastically spoke. “My dearest Alastor, your ability to converse in French, seduces me. Better?”

Alastor hummed gently, shaking his head side to side. “I’m afraid that’s still rather forward of you dear.” After speaking Alastor tipped his glass finishing his wine. “I hope that wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” You say cautiously worried that he may be serious, embarrassed you leaned back in your seat distancing yourself just slightly. Alastor felt a ping of distaste hit him when you retracted your body, and he had to refrain himself from pulling or beckoning you back in. “Not at all, if i was you’d surely know.” The ominous grit he got when threatening people made an appearance, but didn’t last long before he relaxed. Deciding to push forward, he stood, ushering his shadows away from playing songs, he walked over to you offering his arm. “Would you like to see the bayou you were so enthralled with? The real deal?”

Alastor looked down at you through lidded eyes, his tone silken. As you looked up at him you could get a peek of his tail flicking back and forth methodically. Taking him by the arm you stood, and so he guided you away from the table as the room morphed with hazy black shadows into a different scene. The two of you now stood on a dock, looking out on the bayou, fireflies flickered by, crickets and cicadas made their ambient noises, the water would occasionally splash with a fish, it was beautiful. “So Al,” You start nervously, looking at the demon who still held you close via your interlocked arms.

Alastor hummed a static sounding hum looking down at you. “Uh, I, well remember what you said the night we split from the movie?” Alastor’s brow quirked, smirked down at you he strung out a yes that sounded teasing, of course he knew where this conversation was going, but at this point in the night he’d gotten more comfortable with the idea of it. “I was wondering, if you still meant it?” Alastor nodded slowly looking into the murky waters of the bayou, looking a little zoned out. “Yes, I do think so. I’m certain if you’d ask me to kill for you I would, if you needed my help I’d help, if you’d ask for my advice I’d give it. I'm not familiar with many aspects of love but I'm definitely fond enough of you to do a laundry list of things I wouldn't do for others.”

Alastor turned his body to you, gently willing your own to do the same with both his hands on your shoulders. With his head lifted high he looked down at you through his lashes, a coy smile appearing on his lips at the sight of your sudden bashfulness. With a soft hand, he lifted your chin to gaze at him. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something addictive in the way you made him feel and the way you were so responsive to him, be it his touch or his words. Oh he knew he liked you now, unfortunate state of events for him.

Watching your eyes blink up at him patiently made him solidify what he was going to do. Bending to your level, he looked into your eyes making sure you fully understood what he was planning on doing, briefly your eyes bounced around his face making sure you were reading him correctly and when you were certain your eyes fluttered he closed the window of space between you. Compared to the chaste kiss he gave you the night of the movie, this one could’ve been considered ravenous, he pulled you close almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your torso and neck. Your hands cautiously came up around his waist and up to his back pulling him nearer.

Alastor’s movements were slow and thought through, and when he pulled away from the passionate kiss, he immediately pulled you into a hug to hide the emotion he knew would be in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to be that vulnerable yet, but in due time, perhaps he’d try.

[7squidgy7]

✧.*Woo new page*.✧

Close ups and ramblings below:

Just redrew flaming june as Narinder. Its just such a cat nap pose I had to draw him as it, plus the fabric and colours are just so nice. You can see a bit of my rambling about the painting here.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

Was at a firework show other day and was thinking about how fireworks would work in the cotl universe, they've been around for a long time in our world, but how would the react to the magic of the world.

They most likely exist in the bishops domain but it's a special thing reserved for big events, so many people don't know they exist, except for a few specialists. Lambert for sure doesn't know fireworks exist, so when they accidently firing off a fireball while holding some copper and it makes a green flame they begin to experiment out of pure curiosity.

They just start burning bunch metals and materials to see how they react. The first fireworks show the cult had was just Lambert throwing a bunch of materials in the air and burning them to make pretty colours or effects, but to the cultists it's some of the most magical stuff they've seen.

Forneus was taking care of Ramya during this festival and the 2 watch from a distance at the display. Forneus probably gave Lambert a few proper fireworks with the instructions of light these and run so they got quickly upstaged by the real thing later on.

They're probably able to recruit a cultists who was a pyrotechnic at some point and learn how to make proper fireworks themselves. They use curses to get shapes and effects as well. You tend to pick up a lot of hobbies when your immortal.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

Also Knucklesbones with the baby. She got passed around like a lucky charm a lot. Not at all that the knuckle bones crew wanted to hold her.

✧.*-----------------------------------------------------------------------*.✧

[thelov3lybookworm]

Lucien who now lives full time in the Day Court knowing the truth (think white robes and cold crown and makeup omg) and who has been in love with IC reader since getting to know her while he was there.

She's now visiting on some Night Court business (research, negotiation, etc.), and he's decided to put on his full Lucien teasing charm to woo her.

Sunlight in a Bowl.

Summary: Did he just... no. Of course not.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: I didnt realise how much i loved this idea until i wrote it 😭 thank you soo much my darling anon for sending in this request, i had soo much fun writing it lol, it was like it took no effort, came to me soo easy 🥹

also, posting this an hour early for funsies 🤭

i promised no angst so theres no angst @milswrites

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

The day court was beautiful.

That was all Y/n could think of as a sentry led her towards Helion's private receiving chambers, all other adjectives having flown out of her head the moment Azriel had dropped her on the border of Day court, from where she'd winnowed herself to the palace.

The white houses, the red and gold roofs, the sunlight shining from above and reflecting from pools of water and the Palace right in the center of it all, the colourful market in the town square...

It was safe to say Y/n was ready to move to Day court, already having forgotten that she was here on a mission from Rhysand.

She was ready, bags packed, no questions asked.

So busy was she gaping at the beautiful architecture of the palace, the artwork reigning her in like some trick of hypnotism, she didn't realise the sentry had come to a stop outside two large oak doors.

Unfortunately, that meant she smacked right into his back before she realised.

Her cheeks blazing, Y/n stumbled back as she glanced up at the male, who had an amused smile on his face.

"I merely stumbled. My dress is a little long."

He nodded. "Never said you did not stumble. I believe it must be hard to walk around in your too long knee length dress."

Blood rushed into Y/n's ears as she looked down at the dress that... only reached her knees, realising he was right.

Fuck.

She cleared her throat, standing at attention, avoiding his eyes.

From her peripherals, she could see him grinning as he knocked on the door, waiting until a voice called out to let them in.

The male opened the door, holding it open for Y/n. She hurried in, resisting the urge to just die as he closed the door behind her.

So much for making a good first impression.

Y/n shook her head, trying to dislodge the lump now forming in her throat at the upcoming conversation.

Being an introvert and shy was a hard job, one Y/n was very good at.

But being introverted and shy while being an emissary? Now that was the job of someone that Y/n would consider god.

And exactly why Y/n had been so against the idea of her becoming an emissary when Rhysand suggested it, knowing she would rather live a life alone in the middle of nowhere and probably become the next Weaver than become an emissary.

Alas, she was the only researcher Rhysand had at his disposal, so now she had been sent to read through as many libraries and books in day court as possible to aid in Feyre's second pregnancy.

It hadn't been confirmed yet whether the babe was winged, but Rhysand and the inner circle thought it best to start researching in advance just in case the babe did have wings and to prevent the second pregnancy ending up the same way the first did, and this time with no one to save them.

"Y/n! Always a pleasure to see you!" Y/n met the warm honey eyes that belonged to Helion, a smile spreading on her face unprompted.

"Helion." She greeted, walking forward and directly into his open and inviting arms, squeezing him back when he wrapped his arms around her.

"I hope the journey was not too hard?"

Y/n laughed, pulling away. "All I had to do was winnow, Helion, why would it be hard?"

Helion grinned, then turned to glance at something behind him.

With horror, Y/n realised that it was not something, it was someone.

Her panicked eyes shot to Helion, remembering that Rhys said Y/n wouldn't have to interact with anyone other than the day court high lord.

"Ah Y/n, meet my son, Lucien. Though I'm sure you've met before."

Y/n swallowed, then let her eyes wander to Lucien. Which, definitely not a good idea, considering Y/n was suddenly drooling and looking away like he had burned her eyes.

She had only looked at him for a moment, but that moment was enough for Y/n to have taken note of how ravishing he looked.

Ravishing?!? Get a grip Y/n.

Y/n attempted to calm her racing heartbeat by taking deep breaths, trying not to think of all the golden skin on display that was not covered by the white robe, the gold crown adorning the head of fiery red.

Trying especially hard not to think about the way his skin glowed with happiness and the beautiful, flirtatious smile adorning those plush, soft lips.

"We- we have met before."

"That's amazing! So if introductions are not needed, I'll take my leave."

Y/n knew her eyes were bulging out of her head at this point, but she did not really care as she gaped at Helion's retreating back. She continued to stare until he reached the doors, then turned to wink at her like he was in on a secret she was not.

Bastard.

Y/n, not knowing what to do, glanced at Lucien, who, in the perfect son-of-bastard way, sent her a cocky grin.

Y/n glared at him at that, pretending like the blush on her face was because of anger and not because she was shy.

"I don't know if Rhys informed you, but I will be helping you out today with the research."

Y/n's eyes widened, staring at him like he'd claimed to have met the Mother herself.

Which, Y/n would have been less surprised to hear, but that was the talk for another day.

"I- no one told me."

Lucien shrugged, that infuriating smile still on his face. "It came up last moment when my father had to leave to handle some important matters."

Y/n nodded sadly, mentally encouraging herself that she could do this.

With a sigh, she gestured at him. "Lead the way."

•○🌑○•

"Are you hungry yet?"

Y/n reigned in her sigh of exasperation.

For the past hour, Lucien had been hovering around Y/n, bothering her with stupid questions and trying to get her to go somewhere else. Where, Y/n could not for the life of her figure out.

She glanced up at him, finding his arms crossed over his chest, a careless grin on his face as he leaned against the desk she sat at.

She also noticed how he stood a little too close to just be acting like a caring host, but she ignored it, just like she ignored the bulging, mouth watering muscles in his arms.

"I am sorry Lucien, but my stomach does not consider me worthy of food at the moment. I will let you know once it decides I deserve to eat."

He laughed at that, his head thrown back, his chest vibrating with how genuine the sound was.

Y/n's eyes dropped to the strong column of his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he glanced back down to her, grinning. Y/n noticed the dimple that made an appearance in his cheeks, but she pretended she was still mad at his constant nagging and turned back to the thick bound tomes she had open in front of her.

Y/n got a moment of reprieve before he drew her attention again.

But this time he did not ask her if she was hungry or if she was thirsty.

No, he pushed off from the table, and Y/n watched him from the corner of her eyes as he walked to the back of her chair.

She was curious, of course she was, but also glad that he would let her do her studies.

Also sad that he was leaving, but no one needed to know that.

But suddenly, two arms were caging her in against the table, and Y/n startled at the sudden heat of being caged against the wood by someone who quite literally had the heat of autumn court fire in his blood and the warmth of day court sun in his blood.

"What are you doing?!" Y/n yelped, trying to keep quiet in the library.

His breath tickled the hair at the side of her neck as he leaned in.

"I am just wanting to inquire when your stomach will deem you worthy of eating."

"Oh my god." Y/n mumbled, her blood tinting her face red. "Stop it Lucien!"

"Not until you tell me you will go out to eat with me. Tell me, will giving you the sun in a bowl convince you?"

Y/n only kept getting redder in the face, and to try to cover it up, she slapped her hands over her face.

He tsked. "That sounded like it hurt."

Y/n paused for a moment, then mumbled out- "It did."

He laughed again, and something about having him so close to her, so free and vulnerable did things to Y/n. She spread her fingers, peeking out to find his eyes closed, his teeth glinting softly in the sunlight streaming in through the stained glass windows.

She stared at him, slowly letting her hands fall into her lap, not realising she was staring.

Or maybe not caring.

His laughter slowly died down, the sound still ringing softly in Y/n's ears until it faded away.

He met her eyes, happier than Y/n had ever seen, and gave her a soft smile.

"So?"

Y/n sighed, the sound so exaggerated she would have laughed any other time.

"Fine."

For good measure, Y/n rolled her eyes at him before she turned back to the dusty tomes sitting on the rich wood desk.

She could practically feel his grin as he dipped closer, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Y/n's eyes flew wide, turning to gape at him as he straightened.

"So, a bowl of sunlight. In the receiving room before sunset?"

Y/n choked out an okay.

The bastard had the audacity to wink at her as he turned and strutted away, his careless demeanour already enchanting Y/n's malfunctioning brain.

She watched his retreating back until she couldn't anymore, then straightened to stare at the words that now made no sense to Y/n because she was so busy trying not to think about the plans she now had for the evening.

Did he just...

Y/n blinked, glancing once to the archway he'd just disappeared into.

Did he just ask me out on a date?

Y/n shook her head.

No, it was just not possible.

Lucien? Asking Y/n out on date?

Y/n wanted to laugh at herself for even thinking that. Lucien would never...

Fuck.

Despite herself, Y/n began to smile, and hope.

What have I gotten myself into?

It was going to be hurting her brain to think so much about it, but she couldn't care less about it.

Still smiling, Y/n returned to her work, now trying to stop focusing on him and start doing the thing she was actually here for.

It's going to be a long day.

•○🌑○•

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @fell-in-luvs @tele86

whore hive: @clairebear08 @readychilledwine @riddlesb1tch @berryzxx @thehighladywrites @artists-ally

[i-cant-sing]

Dabi pours water/bleach (i think) on his head to wash out the black dye and reveal his identity.

Reader: Dad… dye washes out over time when you shower… and you’ve had jet black hair this entire time.

Dabi:…

Reader: Dad… have you not showered this entire time?

Dabi:…

Reader:… Dad answer me

100% but I think ever since daughter reader came into his life, he's been taking showers because... well, he wants to set good morals for you and also not be a total embarrassment to you.

I mean, imagine it's toddler reader's first day at school and Dabi is there to drop her off because of course he can't fucking miss your first day! That's just the beginning of a very spicy traumatic childhood, and he's not gonna let you have one!

So, Dabi is all nervous on the inside because of course everyone's fucking staring at him and he thinks it's because they either recognise him or are scared of him because he's ugly looking with all his burns and staples but in reality, everyone- moms, dads, teachers- they're all staring because wowoowowow who is this fine specimen of a man in a black fitted tee with sweatpants, bulging muscles (because this is evolution towards dad bod) and messy hair. There's just something about his rugged handsomeness, with a resting bitch face, a total bad boy vibe radiating off him.

And what's more attractive than a nonchalant bad boy??? A bad boy who's soft for his daughter🥺🥺🥺🥺

I mean, almost every adult feels something carnal inside them when they see Dabi bent down to pick you up, his muscles flexing, and a soft smile that's ONLY FOR YOU on his face as you giggle and kiss his nose and he returns the kiss on your cheeks, a tender look in his eyes as he wishes you well and hands you your pink school bag that looks extra small and cute in his rough hands🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Immediately, every parent there has made it their mission to be super nice and kind to you particularly because you clearly are your father's soft spot, so yes- they will manipulate you to be liked, no- at least ACKNOWLEDGED by Dabi.

They're all looking at Dabi with hearts in their eyes while Dabi just glares at them as a warning not to mess with you. On the inside, Dabi just wants to rush home so that he's not stared because he's very conscious and a little insecure of his appearance.

And then who is it that finally woos him over???

Pre school teacher Keigo Takami.

Okay maybe not "woo". More like "wears Dabi down enough and he only dates Keigo because you said that he was your favourite teacher".

Anyways, with a child in his life, Dabi decides its time to get a more stable job and leave the villainous life because he can't endanger you. I could see Dabi doing a lot of jobs- a professional chef, a mechanic, a race car driver, also a doctor (but not in this au, we already have platonic yandere Surgeon Dabi x reader x Lawyer Hawks), a farmer, lumberjack, firefighter(only cause of his quirk, not because he likes saving people) etc.

And now that he's got a stable income coming in, he's also gotta look sharp and nice for you. After all, he does want you to get into the best schools and be well mannered and groomed (minus a few times where he does actually want you to be a menace🥺 please do something evil😟). So, he's cleans up well, keeps himself well dressed and has you well dressed, and as far hair colour goes... professionals do his hair now! Complete with $$$ skincare and shit.

If Dabi was hot before, he's irresistible now.

[jungaji]

ghostbusterヾ(ﾟДﾟ;ヾ) | k.jw

synopsis: in the week leading up to halloween, you're haunted by dreams of a faceless man who promises you'll meet soon. but things aren’t as simple as they seem, and the line between dreams and reality begin to blur when cryptic messages and strange events unfold on the night of haechan's halloween bash. you're left questioning: who—or what—is this mysterious man?

pairing: kim jungwoo x fem!reader feat. mark lee & lee haechan

genre: one-shot social media au, written portions (7 dream journal entries), supernatural, comedy

authors note: hihiii this was meant to be posted on halloween LMAO oh well ANYWAYS this smau is my baby 🥹💖 im finally getting it out of the drafts and into the world waaahh i hope you’ll enjoy!!!

also disclaimer, this is really long (i got carried away ToT) reblogs & replies are greatly appreciated <33

YN’S DREAM JOURNAL

DREAM ENTRY #560

28/10/2024

i dreamt that i worked at an ice cream shop with this guy named, woo? he didn’t have a face (kinda creepy) but he had pretty pink hair and he was really tall! we had to work together to design a new logo for the shop & we fought over making it olaf inspired or spiderman inspired (mark is corrupting my mind) we played rock, paper, scissors to decide and i obviously won!!! he told me we needed to have a rematch when we see each other again (?) anyways, the spiderman ice cream logo turned out really cute & our manager loved it. 10/10 dream

DREAM ENTRY #561

29/10/2024

dreamt of woo (the faceless guy) again today! we were playing dress to impress together & the theme was halloween. he dressed as a ghost & i dressed as a zombie! we duo-ed & hit pose 28 as a team and some kid in the server told us we had no taste & woo went crazy on them 😭 we got kicked out of the server after & we were somehow transported to some kind of harry potter universe (?) hyuck was there too & i tried talking to him but he ignored me & tried to KILL ME instead!!! woo swooped in to protect me though, he killed dream hyuck & told me he would steal me away from hyuck when we meet (?) because i deserve better friends

DREAM ENTRY #562

30/10/2024

i had the perfect life in last night’s dream!!! i had like a million friends & i was super rich 🤑 the only factor was that i was a vegetable (?) oh! & woo was in my dream again today too (third night in a row) anyways, we were both some kind of vegetable & we had to compete in a vegetable eating competition? (so basically cannibalism..) we won the competition though & we got transported to this super cute studio ghibli inspired house >.< woo mentioned how we should binge all the movies together when we meet!

DREAM ENTRY #563

31/10/2024

i dreamt that i was an idol! but i was also a mosquito (?) woo was with me once again, as well as jaehyun! (which is odd considering i haven’t seen him in a long time) anyways, the three of us just flew around and sang together, it was cute 🥹 jaehyun had a schedule after so he left first, & me and woo went to watch the sunset!!! it was so pretty, an ombre of orange & pink (my favourite colours ToT) — woo kept talking about how he would bring me to watch the sunset when we meet! usually i would wake up right after woo says something like that but i didn’t last night so i asked him what he meant by meeting (?) & he told me to look for someone dressed as olaf at hyuck’s halloween party tonight (i guess i’ll be anna then :p)

RECENTLY DELETED

DREAM ENTRY #019

31/10/2021

i dreamt that i was grocery shopping with woo! he kept talking about some guy named, yuno (?) i thought it was his boyfriend at first but he assured me that they were just good friends (also, roommates? i think.) anyways, we bought soo much halloween candy & we went back to my place to watch ghostbusters!!! before i woke up, i asked woo what he was wearing to hyuck’s party so i could spot him easily & he told me he would be dressed as rose..? from titanic 😭 (i don’t wanna be jack but when duty calls!!!)

DREAM ENTRY #119

31/10/2022

dreamt that i was cycling with woo at hundred acre woods! it was so fun >.< we talked to winnie the pooh & he even shared some honey with us !!! but after we ate the honey, the whole scenery (?) changed & it became that one winnie the pooh horror movie 😭 we got chased by him and piglet i woke up in cold swear (NO joke) also didn’t get to ask woo if i would meet him at hyuck’s party tonight or not :(

DREAM ENTRY #390

31/10/2023

i dreamt that i was baking a cake with mark! but when i turned to ask him where the sugar was, woo was standing there instead of mark Ö it was confusing at first but we just continued baking & woo kept talking about ghostface (?) ,, halfway through the conversation, we were suddenly sucked (?) into the cake 😭 we were inside of this cake house (chocolate cake!!!) & woo started eating all the funiture HAHAHA anyways, after eating we got tired so we laid on the chocolate bed & i asked if i would meet him somewhere soon and he mentioned hyuck’s party! he said to keep an eye out for that girl from twilight & then i woke up :( (guess i’ll be edward for tonight)

[respectthepetty]

PETTY HI OMG

I wanna ask, what do you mean when a character is a fake *insert colour*? Like you said wandee is a fake blue. What does that mean? And also, according to that logic, he's wearing that blue during that first kiss and I dunno how to feel about that...

@cryingoverweiying, what I mean when I state a character has a "fake color" is that I'm crazy, and I'm quickly losing my mind over fictional characters. But to give you some examples before I get into Wandee's fake blue, I will offer Vegas from KinnPorsche and Jae Young from Semantic Error.

Vegas looks green. He pretends to be a chill dude who is easy going and down-to-earth in front of the main family's bodyguards. Jae Young looks red. He pretends to be an aggressive rascal so he can work Sang Woo's nerves. But we know those are LIES!

Vegas is actually a red devil who has an affinity for torturing people, and Jae Young is really a chill green dude which is why he wasn't showing up for class in the first place. This is why I call their initial colors fake.

I've written a little bit about this in regards to characters changing their colors throughout a series.

So when I write that I believe Dee's blue is a fake color, I mean that I don't think it represents him as a character, and that Dee is pretending to be blue.

Blue Boys are calm, loyal, and passive aka all the things Dee was to Ter for eight years while being in love with him.

But I think Dee was faking it for love. I think the colors are telling us that Dee is actually a Purple Prince who is immature and emotional,

but also encouraging and compassionate.

Because the day after being rejected by Ter and sleeping with Yak, Dee showed up to work in purple.

And he just keeps getting more purple. Purpler? No that's not a word. You understand me though!

But it only happens the more he spends time with Yak.

Since Yak seems to have unleashed Dee's true nature of being childish and arrogant, which are things he never allowed Ter to see.

All these traits would seem negative (emotional, immature, arrogant, childish), but once again, this is only part of who Dee is, and he never actually showed that to the man he was in love with, for eight years! He hid parts of himself behind this fake blue to impress Ter, but with Yak, he can just be himself.

And it's because Yak was his yellow egotistical and energetic self around Dee from the start.

So his openness is contagious.

But this has caused a problem because I don't think Dee is the only one faking a color anymore in this fake relationship.

I wrote before that as much as Yak was picking up Ohm's style to impress Taem, Dee was actually the one to pick out the outfits and the color aligns with Dee's first love.

Brown Boys are wise, stable, and predictable. In fact, they are like the more solid version of Blue Boys.

So it makes sense for a Blue Boy to be with a Brown Boy.

They'd be super stable. They'd be totally truthful. They'd be really reliable. They'd be perfectly predictable. But does that sound like these two?

NO! THEY ARE CHAOTIC LYING TRASH PANDAS!

So I am praying that we see these two not only embrace their true colors once again like Vegas and Jae Young, but for them to embrace the other's color as well, and the only way to do that is through a good old fashion color exchange.

I don't want to see Yak in this fake ass blue or Dee in this light yellow or brown.

I want Yak in purple and Dee in bright yellow because even though I already know it's love since the pink keeps showing up,

I need the colors to tell me there's nothing fake about them or the love they have for each other.

*fingers crossed*

[tyunphoria]

🌪️two shots of espresso, three shots to the heart — h.hyunjin (pt.1)

- - - - -

⚠️NSFW CONTENT⚠️

- - - - -

camboy!hyunjin x barista!reader

SYPNOSIS: your best friend/co-worker worries about your sad, single, life-style. he suggested a — quote-un-quote — ‘dating site’ but it turned out to be an adult streaming website. you accidentally stumbled upon a streamer who went by the user @SnowFerret320 while trying to close the tab. SnowFerret also happened to be living next door.

INCLUDES: reader with she/her pronouns, best friend wooyoung, SMUT , SLOW-BURN, hyunjin being down bad for y/n, y/n being down bad for snow ferret and practically donating her whole bank account towards his streams, y/n having a thing for hyunjin’s hands, y/n being oblivious to the fact hyunjin’s snowferret for the sake of the plot.

eventually turns into FWB on later parts.

WARNINGS: voyeurism (obvi), alcohol intake, use of toys, reader getting off on his streams, hyunjin being somewhat of a perv?, pet names, praise, degradation, hand kink, voice kink, dirty talk, mentions of obsessive tendencies(?).

wc: 7.8k

! ! THIS IS PART 1 OF THE ‘TWO SHOTS OF ESPRESSO, THREE SHOTS TO THE HEART’ SERIES. ! !

✩

  "Woo..." you sigh, squinting down at the nearly illegible writing on the paper.

Twisting it this way and that, frustration creases your brow as the words continue to swim and blur together.  

"Your handwriting... is so ass," you mutter.

Wooyoung snatches the paper back, waving it in front of your face with a mischievous grin. "harmonymatch.com," he explains, "It's a dating site.  It'll help you get laid." 

You roll your eyes at his suggestion as you change into your work uniform and tie on your apron.  Glancing back at Wooyoung, you give him an unimpressed look. “Tinder, yubo, elitesingles… Those are all the sites you recommended. Wanna know what they all have in common?” you list, pretending to tap your cheek in thought. “oh yeah—they never worked out!” 

“Then keep digging till you find yourself a fine hunk.” Woyoung’s matchmaking efforts often caused more trouble than help. You’ve tried out multiple dating sites and in every single one of them they turned out to be a catfish or just some weirdo looking for sex.

“You’re more invested in my love life than I am.” You shook your head.

“Well,” Wooyoung starts, draping an arm across your shoulder, “that’s what cupid Woo is here for. Let your dear best friend take care of it.” His corny charisma brought a small smile to your face. As irritating as he can be, you somehow appreciate his efforts. Underneath the misguided meddling, he just wants you to be happy, and you know that.

He playfully leans all his weight on you followed by a dramatic sigh. “Like, seriously. You’re in your fossil era and yet you’re still a virgin. What’s the point in living then?”

“I’m not a virgin!” You huffed as your knees buckled under his weight, “my first time just wasn’t… ideal. And you know the people I’ve dated in the past never worked out. Whenever I think the relationship’s going great, they block and ghost me forever.”

“Maybe if you stopped being colour blind and see the red flags then maybe your relationships will work out.” He scoffed. “And your first time didn’t even count; that jackass lasted three minutes and passed out right after. Hence, making you still a virgin—“

He’s cut off by someone clearing their throat. You both turned to see a man standing there with a tight smile on his lips.

“Can I order?” His voice sounded so smooth and languid as you flushed and shoved Wooyoung off of you.

“Of course,” you stammer, “what can I get for you?”

The man—with slightly tousled dark hair that fell perfect across his forehead—his handsome gaze found lingering on yours, making your heart skip. As he paid, he flashed you another smile which caused his eyes to disappear into beautiful crescent moons. 

After he leaves, Wooyoung nudges you teasingly. “Looks like you and pretty boy were having a moment.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Wait, there’s a term for it nowadays… eye-fucking, I think?” He cackled.

You shove him one last time before making your way to the back with reddened cheeks. Even though you most likely won’t see that man ever again, had he heard you and Wooyoung’s awkward sex talk? Hell, how long was he standing there for? 

“That was so embarrassing…”

✩

You looked at your phone to check what time it was. 11:46 p.m, it read.

“I don’t have classes tomorrow,” you slumped in your seat, “might as well start on that term paper.”

Although it was pretty late, you just couldn’t find yourself sleeping anytime soon. For some reason, your mind just worked better at night. Moving over to the bed,  you took your laptop resting the device on your lap as you leaned against the headboard. 

The deadline seemed far away yet your motivation came in bursts. An hour into typing, distraction felt closer than focusing. Laying the laptop aside, you shifted to your left to turn out the lamp so you could finally ease into the stillness of the night. On the nightstand, you spotted the paper Wooyoung gave you earlier.

“He gave me a shit ton of these already,” you sighed as you took the paper, “let’s see what this one’s about.”

You typed in the website on your browser and waited for it to load. In all honesty, you just wanted to check it out to see what kind of dating site it was this time. No talking to weirdass strangers, no nothing. Just something to distract your mind at that moment. You glanced over to your right to grab an extra pillow for your sore and aching neck but when you looked back at your laptop, you were met with something unexpected.

The screen was filled with adult streamers. With their privates on full display.

“What the fuck ?!” You instinctively shut your burning eyes, trying to direct the cursor to close the damn tab.

However, much to your luck, you accidentally clicked on a random streamer, seeming as though the live had just only started.

Slowly, you fluttered your eyes open and watched as the guy came in view and sat on his chair in front of the camera. He was wearing a mask, obviously, a white mask that only shows half of his face. What caught your attention was his gaze… he was staring at the camera, almost intensely, looking relaxed as he leaned back on his chair while the nail of his thumb caught between his teeth gnawing at it. 

A calm electricity seemed to pulse from his stare, as if he were actually capturing your gaze and holding it captive. You gulped, fingers twitching and urged for you to close the tab but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

The suit he wore drew your eyes curiously—a tailored midnight blue with the blazer resting lightly on his sculpted shoulders, providing fleeting glimpses of the bare skin beneath. His only half-buttoned black shirt glistened as beads of sweat trickled down his dampened chest. 

A small smile played on his lips as he brought his hand lower. “So…” he started with such a tone of voice, one that almost made you melt, “what were we talking about in the last stream again?” 

He adjusted himself and leaned closer to the computer screen. “Ah, yeah,” a sultry laugh slips past his lips. “We were talking about if you could handle me if I fucked your brains out.” The chat went crazy at that comment he made. He didn’t bother reading them as he leaned on his seat.

He spoke with his chat for a few more minutes or so, palming the tent through his pants throughout.

A couple of them were urging him to just whip it out already and you could tell he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Okay, okay… wow, you guys are pretty desperate tonight.” 

With one tug of his pants, his dick sprung up with pre-cum already dribbling down its red tip. His slender fingers wrapped around the head of his cock, the palm of his hand circling around it boredly.

“What’s my body count?” He read one of the comments while speeding up the pace of his hand.

“I—fuck… ah…” his lip twitched, sweat trickling down his temple. He bit down on his bottom lip, swirling his thumb around his tip. “Doesn’t matter… could be five, sixty, or even none… just think about how good I can fuck you…” his moans and sharp breathing filled the space of your empty apartment. With his voice the only source of sound you could hear bouncing off the walls, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy as you succumbed to the sound of total eargasm from this guy. 

could be your new favourite asmr, who knows.

His hand started to get faster with its motion, almost like he was getting bored and just wanted to get it over with. He threw his head back, Adams apple bobbing along with each flick of his wrist.  

He drew out a long whine as he licks his lips, continuing to fuck his fist.

“I bet it’d feel better if you were here… sucking my cock like my pr—ah..—precious little slut.”

“cumming…” he gulped, “cumming just for you…” With one last stutter of his hips and his abs flexing, he came. Thick ropes of come trickled down his cock and over his fingers, coating his abs in sinful pleasure as he groaned for the camera.

He swallowed a deep sigh and grabbed a couple of tissues to clean his hand. “That’s about it for tonight.” As the chat bombarded with complaints, he only ever smiled, sending a flying kiss towards the camera. “I know, I know… usually I’d stay and chat for a few more but I feel so tired. I’ll see you the next time I go live, I’ll make it up to you. Make sure to dream about me,” he drawled out.

Without even realizing it, the live had shut off and you were left sitting there with the homepage of the website on display. You were left, thinking, ‘what in the ever living fuck did I just watch?’

And the full thing at that.

“Once I get my hands on that son of a bitch Wooyoung I’ll strangle him to death.”

✩

You didn’t get any sleep. At all.

Exhausted, you dragged yourself out of bed after a sleepless night replaying that fateful stream in your head. You had barely closed your eyes when your manager called asking you to cover a shift for a sick co-worker. Great. Just what you needed. 

You sighed and tiredly grabbed your keys, limbs feeling like lead as you trudged your way outside the door. Your thoughts drifted to visions of warm blankets and a nice cup of steaming hot coffee as you shut the door — causing you to walk straight into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You muttered, looking up to see your neighbor that just moved in and settled across the hall. He did look familiar… dark hair and nice plump lips. You know you’ve seen them before.

Then it hit you—he was the guy at the coffee shop yesterday.

He reached out instinctively and placed steadying hands on your arms as you lightly stumbled. His touch was brief yet it made you feel at ease. He placed a warm smile on his lips, releasing your arms and took a subtle step back to maintain a close yet not intrusive distance between the both of you.

“Good morning.” A quiet laugh escaped his lips. The sound resonates deep within you, stirring something in your mind you could not yet place.

God, he was so beautiful. More gorgeous than any model you’ve seen. 

You merely nodded, still caught in the warmth of his eyes and the comfort of his smile. “Good morning.” You greeted back, nearly breathless.

When the elevator doors opened, you both stepped in as you awkwardly stood next to him. You hit the button to the ground floor, trying to subtly glance at the handsome man beside you. His all-black outfit did little to conceal his athletic build. The turtleneck compression shirt hugged his torso beautifully, accentuating his broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. A duffle bag sat casually at his feet.

His eyes met yours briefly and you swore you saw the way his lips tugged up into a cocky smile. Shit, were you caught checking him out?

He took note of your slightly disheveled form. “Rough night?” He couldn’t help but say, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence that engulfed the area. “Sorry. Not in that way. You just seemed to be in a daze is all.”

Your cheeks flushed as you cleared your throat. “You have no idea…” you say, slightly embarrassed.

He laughed, running his fingers along his hair before he wore a black cap on. 

“Yeah, me too.”

- - - -

“Good morning, noona! Did you check out the site I recommended—“

“Wooyoung, you lil’ shit!” With gritted teeth, you smacked the back of his head. “You didn’t tell me it was a fucking porn site!”

“Glad you liked my surprise, noona.” He pouted. “So? How was it?”

You can’t confirm nor deny that you enjoyed it. It was… something new beyond your usual comfort. Do people actually spend their time watching that stuff? In all honesty, you get it. Some people have a weekly favourite drama, youtuber, or whatever, and some have their favourite camperson. You felt more curious than judgment if anything.

Did you stay and watch the whole thing? Yes, you did. Why did you? Mere curiosity though was increasingly uncomfortable. Did you enjoy it? Hell no.

Now, let’s play a game of two lies and a truth.

Whatever. Pretend last night never happened and focus, y/n.

✩

@SnowFerret320.

That was his username on harmonymatch. 

According to your friend, Aya, who is strangely familiar with broadcasting jockeys when it came to porn, he goes live once a week every Friday at exactly 11:40 at night.

“You’re telling me this, why?” You asked her.

“Personally, I like @Quokka940 better, I used to watch him when I was still single, but Ferret’s totally your type! Give his streams another chance.”

It’s been a busy week. you’ve been working part time at the cafe but also juggling to write the term paper.

In truth, you’ve been procrastinating.

Your upperclassman, Chan, always scolded you for having that shitty aspect but you only seemed to find motivation last minute. You just haven’t been doing so great lately and it took a huge toll on your stress levels.

You halted the way your fingers danced along the keyboard to crack your knuckles. “Okay. Thirty minute break time.” You concluded after only working for ten minutes, or even less. You glanced at the clock, 11:50.

‘It’s been ten minutes since his stream started…’

You shook your head, eyes widening.

‘Why the fuck would I care?’

“…”

You stared at your own reflection on the black screen of your laptop. 

Then you suddenly found yourself typing the name of the site. 

“I think I’m going batshit insane.” 

You’re only doing this so you could feed your curiosity, you kept reminding yourself. You finally made an account and went by the user @treasure006987.

“Oh? Is that so?” The man who went by ‘Ferret’ sat on his gaming chair, pristine white shirt unbuttoned with a light sheen of sweat on his chest. You watched him lick his lips as he unzipped his pants. “A lot of you are saying you had a bad week…” he stuck out his bottom lip as your breath hitched. “How about I take care of you?”

He dipped his hand into his pants and pulled out his pretty cock. “Just follow my lead…” he continued to roll his fist around the tip, squeezing some lube on his erect cock. “Why don’t you take that off and spread your legs for me, baby… yeah, just like that,” he gulped, squelching sounds echoing in your room as he fucked his fist. 

“So pretty… such a pretty baby… go on and suck your fingers… get them all nice and wet.” An odd feeling of a heavy weight settles in the pit of your stomach as you catch yourself rubbing your thighs together. “Rub your slick all over your hole for me—yeah, just like that.”

You tucked your lower lip between your teeth before you finally reached into your panties, fully succumbing to the growing sensation. Your fingers flicked on your swollen clit, collecting your slick before stuffing your cunt with your fingers. 

“Oh,” he groaned, his voice getting breathier, lower, sexier. “Fuck yourself on your fingers. Bet it’s still not enough, huh? Bet my fingers would stretch you out so fucking good. Too bad there’s a screen that separates us. I bet you can’t help but wish I could be there with you.” He now used both of his fists and bucked into them. He snapped his hips faster, your fingers urged to move in time with his thrusts.

You let your eyes fall shut, his moans had you spiraling. While you flicked on your sensitive bud, you heard a choked moan and as you cracked your eyes open, he hunched over the camera as he reached his orgasm, followed by the soak of your sheets.

Ferret fell silent for a few minutes, all you can hear is his labored breathing. He cleaned himself with napkins before letting out a chuckle.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

The chat explodes with nothing but positive (and horny) feedback. His eyes skimmed through the comments, but the top donors grabbed most of his attention.

@sincerely_yourstruly donated 70$: “again! again!”

“Again?” He laughed. “I don’t know if I could handle another one… you were so good for me, just thinking about you fucking yourself made me nearly cum in just two seconds.”

@badbitchnala donated 37$: “come onnnnn, pleeeaaassseee?”

@halahalamf donated 53$: “when are you finally gonna use sex toys:(“

@purpsjiminipewbs donated 90$: “would you still love us if we were all worms”

He thanked all his donors, answering their questions or comments, no matter how random they are. ‘I’m gonna regret this.’ You frowned, hesitantly reaching for your touchpad. ‘What am I doing, someone please slap some sense into me right now…’

@treasure006987 donated 150$: “glad i stumbled across your stream… you’re so pretty, can’t wait for the next time you go live.

You cringed at your own comment, exhaustion clouding your mind from such an unholy activity to think of something more original and less corny.

He could be seen squinting his eyes at his monitor. “Aww…” he smiled, “well aren’t you the sweetest thing… you new here, Treasure?”

Your heart skipped, him merely acknowledging your existence brought a giddy smile on your face. “Thanks for the donation! Hope you stick around longer, I promise I’ll be worth your while.” Bringing himself further from the camera once more, he lazily stroked his dick, thumb swirling around the leaking tip as he brought his middle and index before it slipped between his fingers. Your heart swelled in your throat at his next words.

“See this, precious? All for you… all for my Treasure.”

✩

Wooyoung recently introduced an app called Shemu. Another one of those online-shopping megastores that offers everything in such an affordable price by luring people in with the use of pyramid scheming.

“Just another Tein knock-off, they’re probably stealing my personal information as we speak.” You said as you proceeded to add more useless shit to your cart and check-out.

But somehow, your packages always get washed up on address no. 562. You’re 561.

As you ponder this oh-so frustrating predicament, a knock sounds at the door. You opened it to find your neighbor standing there with your latest Shemu package in hand. 

“Hi.” He chuckled.

You groaned, running your hand down your face as you leaned against the door frame. “God, I really am sorry about this, mister…”

“Just call me Hyunjin,” he waved his hand dismissively. “And it really is no trouble. Y/n, right?”

“How’d you know my name?”

Hyunjin fell silent for a few seconds before he cleared his throat. “Well, given that this is the fifth package of yours I’ve received this week, it'd be concerning if I hadn’t known your name by now.” He smiled as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Right! Sorry, and I tried taking care of it, I swear, but every time I rang the courier service they passed me off to different departments…”

Hyunjin hummed in understanding, chewing on his thumbnail while looking down at you as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. “Don’t worry, I know how terrible that company’s customer service is.” You nodded, gnawing nervously on your left cheek.

As Hyunjin observed you, he can’t help but play a smirk on his lips. ‘She looks so cute like this… makes me wanna pinch her cheeks..’

“How about I help you sort this out, yeah?” He offered. “I can call the courier service for you.”

You blinked, trying to process his words.

“Oh—yeah! Yeah… of course, um, come in,” you opened the door wider, kicking your jacket that was on the floor aside.

“Want anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

You both sat down as he dialed the number for the service. It only took a couple of rings for them to pick up. 

“Hello! You’ve reached customer service at LaserDeliveries Korea. How may I help you?”

“Hi!” Hyunjin started off with a charming greeting as he comfortably leaned back on the chair. “Hope I’m not taking up too much of your precious time. Anyhow, I’ll just get straight to the point,” he smiled, standing up and bringing the phone to his ear. “I am a valued customer who’s sick of your shit tactics for customer service. I’m honestly kinda fed up, you know?

“I hope you don’t mind, you’re free to end the call of course, but I am going to start screaming right in your ear.”

You looked at him, dumbfounded. Is—is he serious? “Um… Hyunjin, I think I can take over—“

“However, if you do wish for me to calm down, I suggest putting me on line with your supervisor right now.” He looked at you, mouthing: ‘I’ll be back’ before stepping out of your apartment.

You blinked. Then blinked again. Your mouth felt dry, genuinely speechless. You clutch the glass between your hands, trying not to let out a fit of chuckles.

After what felt like eternity, Hyunjin finally came back and placed the phone on the table and switched it to speaker. 

“….yes, hello, this is the department manager speaking. I’d first like to formally apologize for the inconvenience….”

- - - -

“I seriously can’t thank you enough, hyunjin.” You smiled gratefully, giving his arm a gentle pat. “I owe you one, let me make it up to you somehow.”

Hyunjin considers for a moment. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned over and lightly brushed his lips against your ear. “How about a date?”

That unexpected question caught you off guard, briefly leaving you speechless as it made your words catch in your throat. “Uh—“

“Kidding!” 

You returned his smile, laughing awkwardly yourself. Some part of you still hoped it wasn’t a joke. “How about a free iced-americano then?” He must’ve already known that you were one of the baristas in that small coffee shop nearby.

“Oh, you really don’t have to—“

“No, really, I insist.” You wanted to at least repay his thoughtfulness somehow considering he went through all that trouble screaming in someone’s ear just to fix your package issue.

Hyunjin took your hand and gave it an appreciative squeeze. “Free iced americano it is.”

You exchanged your goodbyes as he stepped back into his apartment. He plopped himself down on his bed, snatching his mask from the nightstand as he brought it up to fiddle with and observe. “Dumbass, why’d you do that?” Hyunjin groaned and rolled over to his side. “The packages were the only excuse you had to talk to her,” He exclaimed

Why should it matter? He’s getting worked up over nothing. Hyunjin thought back to your surprised and flustered reaction when he jokingly suggested you both go on a date. It was cheesy, stupid, but you were so cute he just couldn’t help it!

After he finishes his gym sessions with Changbin, he’d drop by the cafe you worked at and order the same drink over and over again. Everytime your fingers would brush against his when handing him his cup, he swore one day he may lose his composure.

Receiving your packages has given Hyunjin the first chance to speak with you personally. Of course, he just had to ruin it. 

The first time your package showed up at his doorstep, he didn’t bother reading the label and opened it. Just some milk frother and a few cups, he was pretty confused at first until he read the label. There were also a few make-up products but one item caught his attention specifically:

A lipstick vibrator.

“Ha… I didn’t think she’d turn out to be the naughty type… speaking of, do I still have it?” Yes, he stole it, and yes, it was necessary. Did he have some self-restraint, god no.

It was sitting in his dresser as he placed a battery inside and sat back down on his bed. He held it up and gulped. Hyunjin tried using toys before, it just wasn’t his thing. It didn’t feel as good as the real thing or his hands. 

“Won’t hurt to try something new once in a while…” Hyunjin muttered. He brushed his thumb over the vibrator, the thought of you using it crossed his mind which made his cock twitch inside of his tight jeans. 

He swore quietly, fingers fiddling with the button of his shirt, then his zipper, lifting his hips up to shove his jeans down over his hips. 

One hand slipped inside his boxers to free himself while the other tentatively took hold of the toy again.

“God, am I a pervert now? What am I doing…” 

He grimaced at his actions and sighed. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t — none of that mattered right now when his mind was fogged with thoughts of you.

Hyunjin spat on his palm and slid it up and down on his cock a few times, shuddering at the cold and slick feeling. 

He imagined your sweet voice calling to him as he sucked in a breath, picturing you bent over in front of him, grinding your hips against his. Hyunjin swiped his thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-cum that’s beaded there and dragging it down to mix with his spit.

He can already perfectly picture what you’d look like laid out beneath him with your legs spread out and your pretty pussy on full display, all just for him. 

He switched the toy on, pressing it up against his tip as he moaned from the sudden vibration simulating his dick. 

He scoffed out a laugh followed by a low grunt. “Y/n… I found you… I finally fucking found you.” And he doesn’t intend on losing you again either.

✩ 

Wooyoung squealed, pinching your elbow. “He so wants you.”

You smacked his hand away. “Stop feeding onto my delusions, woo.”

“No no no no—okay, yeah, but listen; why else would he offer to sort out the package thing?”

“‘Cause he’s sick of it showing up at his place?” You said as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, fool. It’s a tactic men like him use as an excuse to get in someone’s pants.”

Unamused by his bullshit, yet again. You told Wooyoung everything that happened yesterday while the both of you squealed like little high school girls.

Your manager, Jihyo, had to actually pop in a few times to tell you both to shut up.

“Stop it, Woo. Don’t make me more delulu than I already am—“

He gasped, subtly trying to slap your arm to get your attention. “Noona, noona, noona—“ he whispered frantically. 

You groaned. “God, what?”

“Pretty boy alert, pretty boy alert—“

“Shit! Where?” You said, just as frantic. You glanced outside to see him approaching the shop with someone as you grabbed onto the collar of Wooyoung’s shirt. “Oh my god, Woo—“

He quickly slapped your hand away. “Don’t touch me, don’t even look at me, and don’t breathe towards my direction. Don’t wanna bring pretty boy’s hopes down, what if he thinks we’re a thing?” 

Hyunjin and the other guy he came with both enter the shop. 

He approached the counter and rolled up the sleeves of his compression shirt. “Hi, y/n.” He leaned his forearms on the counter while looking at you and, fuck, it took all your willpower to not glance down at his toned arms with veins popping attractively against his smooth skin. 

You averted your gaze with difficulty, trying to focus on taking his order. “The usual?”

“You know me so well…” he spoke in an affectionate, almost aegyo-like tone, as he slightly stuck out his bottom lip to seem more cute and charming. He propped his elbow down and rested his chin on his palm. 

“Quit it, you flirt.” His friend shoved Hyunjin away to scan the menu. You recognize him now (mainly due to his bright pink hair) – he’s Choi San from the engineering department. “We need to get back before coach returns from his bathroom break.” San rolled his eyes.

“He sits on the toilet for two hours doing god knows what, we’ll be fine.” Hyunjin replied dismissively with a single flick of his wrist.

“Whatever. Um… I’ll have a mint frappe.” 

Wooyoung suddenly hopped in the conversation and you knew that glint in his eye all too well. The look of: I’m about to drop some shit on someone and no one can stop me.

“That’s so lame. What are you, five? Mint frappe is for virgins.”

You smacked the back of his head, looking at the both of them apologetically. “It’s fine. We go to the same college so I know him.” San scoffed, “He’s all talk but the last time he pulled a bitch was when RiverDale was still good.” Wooyoung was ready to bite back but you sent him a glare which made him hold his tongue.

“Will that be all?”

“And a strawberry shortcake. Please.”

He pulled out his card and you took it gingerly, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brushed against his. You couldn’t help but take one last glance at his hands again, admiring the veins that traced subtle patterns just beneath his smooth skin. You quickly averted your eyes, worried that he may notice you literally checking him out as you ran his card through the machine before handing it back.

After you placed the cake in a bag and Wooyoung handed them their drinks, Hyunjin turned to give you a sly wink just before San ushered him away, shaking his head in mild exasperation. 

You tried to suppress the smile that rose unbidden to your lips as you watched them leave.

“He so wants you.” Wooyoung pinched your elbow.

“Shut up.”

✩

Ferret leaned forward, viewers grabbing a glimpse of the way his loose white tank top exposed his beautifully sculpted pecs before he leaned back. With pursed lips, he hummed. “Sorry to disappoint, but I won’t be doing the usual today.” The chat immediately exploded with concerns, assuming he won’t be doing anymore streams. “I have an announcement to make that I’ve been meaning to share with you all for a while now.”

@slut4u donated 100$: “NOOOO ARE YOU GONNA ANNOUNCE YOURE QUITTING?!?!?!”

That made your eyes widen. There’s no way he was quitting. He had his hand over his mouth as he scanned the chat, drawing out a long sigh to give the viewers false hope. “I’m afraid so, my little doves…” he brought his camera higher, only showing his mask. You squint your eyes. 

@treasure006987 donated 90$: “okay, hun. you can drop the act👀 what do you have up your sleeve?”

You hadn’t missed the way his eyes turned into crescents when he brought the camera higher. Ferret lowered the camera again but this time he showcased a mischievous grin. 

“Oh, sweet intelligent Treasure…” you breathed out, relaxing your tensed shoulders before coming to a realization. ‘Why the fuck was I so relieved just now?’

“Okay, fine. You caught me. I know I’ve mentioned a few times on my streams that I can’t really get off by using toys.” His fingers danced along his chest, thumb running over his nipples. He raked a hand through his hair, propping it behind his head to give you a perfect view of his muscular arm. “I decided to bend the rules a bit.”

You heard a faint buzzing sound. He tilted the camera again, showcasing the vibrator in his hand. 

“Especially since this is the second time my Treasure’s come to watch my stream… why not leave a good second impression.”

Your heart fluttered and thumped against your ribcage as you tried not to squeal like a giddy high school girl. With a knuckle caught between your teeth, you watched him roll the tip of the vibrator around the outline of his thick cock laying snug beneath his tight boxers.

“Ohhhh fuckkk…. Treasure…” he muttered, thick with arousal. “Hope you’re—ha..—hope you’re playing with yourself while I get off on you…” shit, was him focusing on only one of his viewers even allowed?

It almost felt like it was a private show, specifically made for you.

- - - 

“Came faster than I expected…” he plastered on an awkward smile as he wiped down his torso. “Still hope that you guys enjoyed it, I’m trying to step out of my comfort zone more.” You tossed the napkins you used to clean your fingers in the nearby bin. “How about this, I’ll make it up to you by staying to chat longer than I usually do. Actually – let me show you something,”

Ferret rummaged around under his desk. “I’m sharing this to give you all false hope for my upcoming streams,” he snickered, pulling out a box full of sex toys. “A friend sent me these. I’m sure you’ve heard of him; shout-out to bbokariix. Make sure to also follow his twitter; he posts NSFW asmr if you’re into that shit. Anyways, thank you riix for – uh –” he dug his hand through and pulled out something from the box. “-- for sending me a purple 16 inch dildo.”

You spat your water out, laughing.

“Along with a note that says: ‘remember to lubricate good’ — Yeah, no. I’m not shoving this shit up my ass. Sorry to disappoint.”

“What do I usually do in my free time? Well, sometimes I do art, mainly painting…” scanning his set as he rambled, you took note of the way he preferred to keep his background pretty plain and clean. Just a normal room with a white sheeted bed at the back and black painted walls, other than that there wasn’t much to look at. You propped the laptop on your lap, bringing the screen closer to inspect what was sitting on his nightstand. 

It wasn’t that you were a creepy sasaeng trying to pinpoint where his exact location was, it just happened to grab your attention. “Wait… are those the cups from our cafe?” Has he been mother fucking Hwang Hyunjin this whole time? You’re gonna feel hella dumb if he actually was. You shook your head. No way. Slim chance, there’s a million coffee shops out there and there are millions of people who just happen to like iced americanos… 

But it wasn’t just that. From his hair to his complexion, it matched Hyunjin’s; fair and almost porcelain, hair that rippled with silk and framed his features beautifully. “Nah,” you said with obvious denial, “his voice is huskier! Right? Yeah, yeah…”

“….I enjoy doing portraits. I recently painted a huge self-portrait of myself. Buuuut… I’d enjoy painting your face white with my cum more.” He winked as you choked on your spit before he moved onto another comment. He really knew his way with words… you almost forgot that this is being streamed on an adult website and not just a casual talk between a streamer and his fans on Instagram or Twitch.

“What did I eat for dinner? Hm…

“does a strawberry shortcake count as dinner?” 

You quickly shut your laptop closed and shoved it off your lap.

“No… there’s no way, right?” You laughed and planted your feet on the floor while you stood as your legs wobbled. “But he’s like… the most innocent guy you’ll meet. Or is he? Fuck, I’m going insane.”

Your rambling was cut short by the sound of your phone ringing.

“Hello?” You spoke and waited for the other line to respond back.

“Hey, girl!” Aya beamed. “You coming to that small get together at that barbecue place tomorrow night, right?”

“No—I mean, what?” You furrowed your brows. Since when was there a get-together? “No one told me about thi—“

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7, don’t forget to wear something cute cause the hot babes from engineering are gonna be there. See you, darling!”

✩

Both you and Aya arrived at the restaurant and spotted some familiar faces waving over at you. You shuffled your way to their table and claimed a vacant seat.

Chan greeted you with a hug and a small pat on the head. “Hey! Glad you guys can make it.”

“My God, barely!” Aya cried out and plopped down on the space beside you. “Y/n called me over earlier so I can help her pick out an outfit and it took her over an hour to decide on a dress.” She explained. “I got so fed up I just grabbed the closest thing next to me and shoved this bitch in my car.” Chan threw his head back and laughed heartily. His broad shoulders shook with amusement as his dimples can’t help but bring a smile to your face as well.

Your fingers tugged at the hem of your short dress, feeling as though your thighs are too exposed. “I look like a prostitute.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Aya smacked your hand away. “Stop being so conservative like a grandma attending church on a Sunday morning. This is why you’re a virgin.” Her sense of style really clashed with your more modest preferences.

“Yeah, sorry, like, my bad that I don’t wear booty shorts that ride up my crack during winter.” You rolled your eyes.

Chan took a small swig of his drink before hopping back in the conversation. “You should stop playing league of legends with Wooyoung.. You’re starting to sound like him, Aya.” The mention of Wooyoung’s name piqued your interest. His absence was unusual for group gatherings, since usually he’d be the first one there.

“Speaking of, where’s he anyway?” The others shrugged, wondering the same thing regarding the lack of Wooyoung’s loud presence. It was unlike him to miss a get-together.

“San! Over here!”

You craned your neck to greet San but the sight of a specific someone had your heart beating thunderously.

They sat themselves across from you and Chan. Aya was the first to address it,

“Who’s this hottie you brought with you? New kid from your department?”

“Nah. He’s the rookie I met at the gym weeks ago.” San nudged him to go introduce himself. His eyes flickered to yours briefly which set your tummy in a stir.

“Hello, I’m Hyunjin. I just moved here not too long ago.”

Aya suddenly gasped and slapped your thigh which drew their attention to you. “Omg, is that the sexy neighbor you’ve been telling me about—“ she whispered in your ear. You would’ve appreciated it more if she were more subtle. You slapped her thigh back, with gritted teeth you whispered “Shut up!” Your face warmed up and you were tangled with the heat of his gaze.

You took in as much of his face before he buried his nose in the menu.

- - - -

You took another swig from the soju bottle, relishing the familiar burn as the liquid slid down your throat. You felt a slight buzz coming on, a pleasant warmth spreading through your limbs. You giggled at something your classmate said, though you hadn’t really heard them properly. Your thoughts became fuzzier by the minute.

“I think that’s enough drinking for tonight.” SnowFerret — no, Hyunjin said with amusement as you tried to grab another soju but accidentally knocked it over but he instinctively caught the bottle just in time.

Chan’s brows furrowed in concern. “Man… who knew y/n is such a heavy drinker.” He scratched his cheek in thought. “Aya, can you take her home?”

Aya suddenly stood up with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m really sorry but something came up and my girlfriend needed to be picked up from her workplace.” Chan waved a dismissive hand and told her to drive safe as she kissed your drunk state on the forehead and gave Chan a quick side-hug. Before she went to go leave, she flashed you a subtle wink

Hyunjin piped in. “I can take her,” he offered. “We’re neighbors so it’s no trouble at all.” Chan looked relieved, thanking him and turned to you who still sat there in a drunken daze.

“Well, good luck mate, I think you’ll need it.”

- - - -

The elevator doors slid open and he guided you inside, letting you lean against him for support. Your breathing was slow and heavy as the effects of the alcohol continued to weigh on you. As the elevator began its ascent, he glanced down at you who had your eyes closed. The sight tugged at his heartstrings as he wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you.

“So cute…”

When the elevator reached your floor, he gently nudged you. “We’re here.” He whispered with his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. His voice sent shivers down your spine and with hazy eyes and a drunken smile, Hyunjin patted down the pockets of your dress to look for your keys till he received a text notification from San.

Choi San🗻: ‘u left her purse at the restaurant. L stoopid beetch 🍆🍑💦’

“Shit.” He muttered and unlocked the door to his apartment instead. Hyunjin gently helped you onto his bed, propping the pillows behind your back to keep you comfortable. “Wait here, I’ll get you some clothes to change into.”

“Nooo…” you whined and grabbed his collar. “Jush stay heeereee…” pulling him towards you with surprising strength for someone so intoxicated. He lost his balance and stumbled forward, forearm instinctively braced by your head on the pillow while the other found your waist.

His breath hitched as he gazed down at you, taking in your features blurred by drunkenness but still undeniably gorgeous in his eyes. Lush lips slightly parted, eyes heavy-lidded yet full of longing. An aching tenderness welled up within him, yearning to soothe the haze of intoxication with something more lasting and true.

Your arms wound around him, breaths mingled and faces only inches apart. “No? But isn’t this,” he hooked his finger under the strap of your bra, pulled it, and let it slap back against your skin. “Uncomfortable?” You arched your body into his as his words stirred up something in your brain.

You muttered something quietly. Hyunjin leaned forward and brought his face towards your neck to hear you better. “Then take it off for me, why don’t you…” you gave a soft playful giggle then patted his cheek in a patronizing way.

“Fuck, don’t say that.” He said sternly, breathless almost. His fingertips ghosted over the plush of your thigh, trailing it up your dress.

He suddenly stopped. “Sorry, um,” you whined at the lack of his warmth.

“Why’d you stop?”

“You’re drunk.” Though is it directed at you or a reminder to him?

Your thighs clenched, and he took note of that. Hyunjin didn’t wanna take advantage of you while you were still intoxicated. You can���t recall a time you’ve been this horny and it’s over your own neighbor. Your hand landed on his chest and dropped to his abdomen. “Don’t…” you slurred, feeling his firm abs underneath your fingers felt like an electric current snapping all the way to your thighs.

The alcohol then spoke for you. “I know your secret.” He cradled your cheek in his hand and ignored the way the uncomfortable tent in his pants pressed up against your leg.

“Is that so?”

You hummed. “You’re this guy… this guy I follow. He has this, um, wackass Duolingo generated name,” you snapped your fingers, trying to remember.

“Yeah?” Before he could process what was happening, your lips were suddenly on his. He made no effort to resist nor pull away as he even tugged you insistently closer. Your mouths slanted together hungrily, your other hand running up his nape and tangling in his hair. Hyunjin could taste the remnants of the alcohol on your tongue but underneath it was the unmistakable flavour of yourself — it also intoxicated him, in an entirely different way.

Yielding to the kiss, Hyunjin shifted, so that his knee was pressed up against your heat. You made a tiny noise and moaned against his lips. “SnowFerret.” He stopped and pulled back slightly to look at you.

“What?”

“You’re SnowFerret,” You repeated.

He showed no signs of surprise or discomfort despite the cat being out of the bag. He plastered on no outward reaction but his thoughts were racing along with the fast thump of his heart. “Am I now?”

There will be time for confrontation later, for now he simply savoured the intimacy of the moment. Leaning once more, he kissed you tenderly, relishing the feel of your soft lips.

One hand tangled in your hair while the other held your waist firmly against his. You grasped his shirt as your tongues fought against each other. “You’re a fan, huh… you enjoy my content, baby? You enjoy watching me fuck my own fist?” Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly closer as he softly sucked on your lower lip.

“Wanna know another secret?

“I can never stream without having you in my thoughts like a fucking plague.” Hyunjin whispered between kisses along your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of heat wherever his lips touched, nipping softly at your pulse point which drew a gasp from your lips. “You know,” he whispered into your skin as his thumb flicked your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of dress, sending shivers down your spine.

“I hate you for leaving me.” He caught himself before going any further as he groaned in frustration and raked his nails on the bed sheets.

Hyunjin lifted himself up to gaze into your half-lidded eyes still clouded from the alcohol. He wanted to say so much, but he knew that in your current state his words might seem confusing. That was the point. He hoped that you’d forget everything by morning.

"I hate you for making me think you'd come back.”

His thumb stroked over your lips as if tracing the curve of each syllable. "I hate you for making me so insane about everything about you, that all these years I couldn’t think of anything else but to feel these lips again.

“I even hate myself for still wanting you after all this time,” he scoffed out a laugh.

“I hate you. But good luck getting rid of me.”

a.n: ok, this isnt the ceo hyun fic i promised but yk what?

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨💨

also, one scene inspired by the manhwa called full volume. not proofread.

[difficultdomains]

waking up next to gojo satoru

satoru is an avid admirer of the fine arts.

he still remembers the feeling of running his fingertips over the golden ridges of a certain vase back in the gojo compound. a rare, invaluable piece, passed down from generation to generation for several hundred years and decidedly off limits to tiny children’s hands. with every scolding it had become more irresistible to him, he was inexplicably drawn to it, the shape, the colours, the texture - so much that he still never visits his childhood home without sparing it at least a glance.

he doesn’t recall his first visit to the tokyo metropolitan art museum - he had probably been of primary school age, more interested in what the gift shop had to offer than whatever was hung up on the walls. but he remembers the first time a piece had resonated with him, shortly after graduating from jujutsu tech. he was quick to wrap one of the museum’s curators around his finger - a middle aged woman, wooed by nama chocolate and his eyes - granting him after hours access whenever he felt like it. he would go there, before or after missions, wandering through empty spaces or spending all his time in front of the same artwork until he was running late for yet another assignment.

but none of that is what he has in mind when he tells people about his love for the visual.

what he means is you, right now, sleeping in his bed.

the inward curve of the small of your back where he delicately runs his hand up and down, separated from you only by the alabaster coloured sheets you are wrapped in.

the shape of your spine that he traces all the way up to your shoulder blades, taking a detour to paint endless circles on your heated skin, his touch unhurried and light, careful not to pull you from your deep sleep.

the back of your neck where he follows the lines of your muscles, feeling the tension and stress before trying to soothe the exhaustion embedded in them with a gentle massage.

satoru can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips when he seemingly hits the right spot and you let out a deep sigh, melting further into the pillow you’re hugging to your face. his fingers brush up the nape of your neck and tangle in your sleep tousled hair that spreads out like brushstrokes against a canvas, his blunt nails steadily scratching your scalp and brushing back stray hairs that threaten to tickle you awake.

he freezes in place like a child caught in the act when all of a sudden your brows furrow and your nose wrinkles. his mother’s scolding words ring distantly in his ears again, the gentle timbre of her voice trying to make him understand that certain works of art are simply not made to be touched. only when you stir does he notice the sliver of sunlight that had crept through the windows of his bedroom right across your face.

you mumble his name like a question, voice heavy with sleep and eyes barely open to the sun-soaked sculpture of a man next to you.

“hey you,” he whispers, palm resting on your warm cheek. “finally you’re awake. i’ve been dying for some pancakes for hours now.”

you chuckle, wiggling closer to him and haphazardly pressing your cheek to his chest.

“not awake.”

“not awake?”

“mhmm.”

“and what about my pancakes?”

“yours always turn out better than mine anyways,” you grumble into his chest.

“that is so very true.”

there’s no need for you to see the faux smug expression on his face to know that it’s there when you instinctively go to pinch his side. he yelps, swiftly grabbing your wrist and holding it as far away from him as he can but you laugh like a cartoon villain, twisting out of his grasp and grabbing his wrist in turn.

he looks at you expectantly, ready for your next attack but you use your leverage on his arm to guide it to your waist. before you even manage to let go, his arm wraps around you, pulling you closer to him, open palm resting on your back.

you sigh contentedly, pushing your knee between his thighs and letting your eyes fall shut again.

“don’t you dare move your hand away for another hour.”

you miss the way he smiles to himself.

guess there’s a loophole after all.

[lovewoonahyuck]

[20:56] ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏɴɢ-ʜᴡᴀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ

PAIRING: Jung Wooyoung x F!reader

GENRE: Fluff fluff fluff!!!

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SYNOPSIS: Although your two sons were the lights of Wooyoung's life, you knew he always wanted a little girl for himself. What if his wishes finally came true..?

Jung Younghoon - 6 | Jung Min-jae - 4 | Jung Yong-hwa - fetus

It was the night, well a certainly special night - your husband's birthday. Well not just that but also, you had decided it would be perfect to have your gender reveal party just a month before your due date. And Wooyoung's birthday just seemed perfect.

You had rented out an elegant resort for the event, the whole garden was filled with beautiful different types of lights illuminating across the place. You had dressed yourself in a flexible pink dress, your huge bump popping out just like your husband loved it. All while he wore a hoodie which was the same colour as yours – pink – the reason was simple: Wooyoung was set that his third child would be a girl, due to which he had picked out and bought you a baby pink coloured dress too.

You knew Wooyoung loved your two sons more than anything in this whole world, they were the reason for his everything at this point – from waking up in the morning to make breakfast for them to going out of his way every time he was on tour to buy them disgustingly expensive clothes and toys – which he shrugged it off saying “They needed it.”

But his heart always longed for having an adorable baby girl, you knew Wooyoung always wanted a girl ever since you had first got pregnant. And after seeing one of his members – Jongho – have a girl too, his heart ached harder for a baby girl.

«“Mama! Look!”» You're pulled out of your thoughts, when your four-year old, Min-jae calls out for you. San had seated himself on the ground, a big bubble wand in his hand while his daughter and your son played with the bubbles. You smile heartwarmingly at your son when you feel a familiar hand intertwine with yours which were on your lap. «“You think it will be a girl?”»

Your head snaps towards your husband who took a seat next to you, «“Of course! You dressed us up in pink, Woo. And don't forget the amount of times you've kept telling me it's a girl during the whole pregnancy, and I believe in your gut.”» You say with a big smile on your face, chuckling as you remembered how he used to speak to your bump as if he knew it was a girl.

«“I mean, it could be a boy-”» Before he could continue his sentence you cut him off by pressing your lips over his. Just before you pull away, you feel his plumpy lips stretch in a smile. «“Stop overthinking, birthday boy, how about we cut the cake, now?”»

Wooyoung could only nod, but just as you were about to stand up from your seat, he leaned his face closer to yours, bringing your nose closer to his own. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against yours and you immediately burst out chuckling, knowing well he would do this.

Wooyoung had found odd comfort in doing that, and seeing that bright smile on his face, you had a relief every time he did that too.

Your husband held the knife in his hand, keeping it far away from your bump while his other hand held your waist. «“Ya! Jung Wooyoung, just cut the cake already, we're way too excited!”» Hongjoong's exclaim made a fit of giggles and laugh erupt through the little crowd.

«“Should we do a countdown?”» Yunho, who had dressed himself in pink from head to toe, suggested making everyone nod at the idea.

You noticed how Wooyoung's hand noticeably got shaky at every count, and immediately let your comparably small hand cover his, in order to soothe his nerves.

3! «“Ready?”»

2! «“Fuck yea!”»

1! It almost felt like time had stopped when you cut through the cake to be met with the sight of a pink coloured bread with pink cream and sparkles.

Loud cheers erupt from everyone and you are immediately pulled into Wooyoung's embrace. You look up at him to find tiny tears rolling down the corner of his eyes. «“I'm so happy, I-I can't explain it”» You tip-toe to press your lips against his skin as you kiss his tears away. «“Me too, Baby!”»

Your hug is soon joined by your toddlers, and you swiftly break-free from the hold. «“Mama! Appa! We're having a younger sister.”» Young-hoon exclaims in happiness, and Wooyoung is swiftly on his knees next to them. He immediately pulls them into a bear-hug, squishing them in his arms.

«“How about we go shopping for the baby's nursery tomorrow? We can get you your favourite toys you've wanted so badly too.”» As soon as your husband finishes his sentence, his request is replied with a loud series of ‘Yesyesyes’.

«“I can only imagine how much he's going to spoil this girl.”» Yunho speaks up behind you, while you had chosen to stand there to admire your little family. Your head perks up to look at the tall man next to you, «“You mean, Jung Yong-hwa?”»

You give him a sheepish smile as his eyes widen, «“Oh my god, you little shits have already picked out a name?”» You give him a small nod before adding, «“Keep it a secret though, I don't want anyone knowing, especially Hoon and Jae”» You say threateningly, for which Yunho winks at you, as he replied, «“I know how to keep secrets Y/n. For a fact, I knew the gender a day before.”»

You gasp in surprise at that, finally knowing why he was so confident it was a girl. «“Jeong Yunho, you-”» «“Mama!”» You look at the direction from where the sound had come from. And you find your six-year old beckoning you towards him. «“Alright, mama duty is on.”» Yunho jokes before going away, giving you your space.

«“Appa! What will we name the baby?”» «“When will we decorate her room?”» Your sons threw questions at your husband, who was gladly answering them all, while taking them back to their respective rooms in your house. You follow behind them, folding your arms over your bump while you stand at their doorway, leaning against the frame.

«“Mama! Can we say goodnight to the baby?”» Your six-year old asks, causing the other two to look back at your figure. «“Of course, my babies! Come closer.”» and soon three pairs of feet were running towards you, and little giggles filled the room.

«“Goodnight- whatever your name is, I hope you sleep well!”» You let out a snort followed by your husband's loud laugh at Min-jae's words. You did feel quite guilty for hiding the name from your precious sons, but unfortunately they had inherited their awful secret-keeping skills from their father.

Your sons were fast asleep when you and Wooyoung were back in your room. You were seated snuggly on his lap, with your head resting against his chest while your eyes stayed on the sight which was blessed to you by the huge glass windows. Wooyoung’s hand stayed Protectively on your bump. «“I love you so much, princess.”»

He whispers soothingly into your ear, his nose nuzzling against the crown of your head. «“Well you're going to have another princess, now”» You chuckle slightly, while leaning forward to peck his jaw. «“And I can't wait to see my other princess, too. I can't wait to give her the same amount of love and spoil her. Our little Jung Yong-hwa.”»

«“Woo”» after a few seconds of settled silence, you call out to him, to which he hums back softly. «“You think we're cruel for hiding the name from Hoon and Jae?”» You ask, to which he hums softly, before saying. «“But I'm sure they would love the name we picked out for their baby sister.”»

©️ lovewoonahyuck.