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trashmouth-richie · 5 months ago

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vitiosus + deliciosus [vicious + delicious🥀] || pt 2 of dulcis ut rosa

emperor geta x reader || things progress for geta + his little gnat || 4k

18+ smut, oral: female receiving, choking, slapping, biting, spanking

pt 1: dulcis ut rosa m🥀 || pt 1 ½: dulex🥀

pt iii frangere me 🥀 || 🥀 pt iv: as caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

You didn’t know what was to come of you after tonight’s rendezvous in Geta’s chambers. You could hardly sleep, your body sore in places you didn’t think were possible, but not in a discomforting way.

The pain was more of an ache, a pulsating want for the time spent in his bed. You daydreamed of his strong hands pressing bruises into your hips, of his mouth hot and wet all over your skin, the bitter tang of your own blood on his lips as he licked the bites better.

Geta was a force to be reckoned with. Dominating both outside and inside of his chambers. All of Rome feared him. A flutter filled your stomach at the mere thought of those dark eyes seamlessly devouring you when you worked up enough courage to look into them. No, you wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.

—

Caracalla carried on the next day pretending the previous night hadn’t happened. As if his miniscule brain shut out what he had done, carrying on with the daily run of nonsense. He smiled like a gleeful infant who had just discovered his toes at the first meal of the day. Gnawing on ripened fruit and leftover pork, he looked like a wild animal.

As if he had vanished with the night, Geta was nowhere to be seen.

During prandium, you asked a woman from your village as casually as you could manage if she had seen the missing Emperor.

Prisca turned up her nose at your question, questioning why you so desperately needed to know. Replying with a tone that matched her own, you very carefully articulated how Caracalla had asked you to find out. Ending the conversation with a clipped lip, reminding Prisca of your status to the Emperors, and hers with the lowest of soldiers ones missing limbs and their gift of sight.

Geta didn’t show for any of the day's events, giving Caracalla a taste of running the empire solo, a smear of greed on his protruding crooked nose. You were the only one to notice his absence and if the entire palace didn’t seem to take note, you’d act the same. Deciding to leave it alone, remembering the virtue in patience, you’d wait until tonight to catch his eyes in yours once again.

The sun seemed to taunt you all day with its beautiful rays, staying longer than it had the day before, never quite ready to go to sleep. The shimmering heat laughing at your dismay as you waited for the moon's powdery face to finally clock in for her shift.

You could hardly stand being in Caracalla’s arms as he held you close to him, his breath stinking of an ungodly amount of wine, making you promise that you would never leave Palatine Hill. Pleading that you’d stay with him forever until his dying day. Agreeing like a dutiful servant, you hoped and prayed that that day would come sooner than later.

—

Geta couldn’t pull himself out of bed the next day. Palace servants came and went, offering to move the drapes, karting in mountainous plates of food, but he had refused everything. Only barking orders to bring as much wine as they could carry.

Drowning himself in rivers of wine, he couldn’t remember a single time since infancy that he felt completely worthless. He was an Emperor for fucks sake. Others may succumb to feelings but not him, never him.

Maidens fell at his feet, begging for his attention. He called the shots, fucked them stupid then tossed them away like scraps. Not once had he let any of them get to a place inside of himself he couldn’t pinpoint.

He couldn’t get away from you. Your scent surrounded him, the jasmine perfume of your hair lingered on his sheets. A subtle hint of sugary sweet honey was still on his skin. He hated himself.

Loathed the love sick pup he had become in the twilight hours as he gazed at the ceiling, still tasting your core on his lips, his rings sticky and coated with it. Unwilling to remove them in fear that the tiny bit that belonged to you, created by him, would wipe away.

His hair was still askew in the same fashion you had rung it around your fingers. Cock hard again remembering the way your body felt in his hands, how that sweet little cunt gripped him tighter than anyone before.

The sheets blushed a crimson that neither of you had noticed that broke from your body. He smirked at the thought of his brother unable to make an untouched woman bleed. Clearly he was less than endowed, his size comparable to that of a dangling beetle.

Geta laid in the stains from the two of you, a complete and utter mess of a man unable to forget the sweet little gnat. No longer buzzing in his ear, but pulling at his mind, suffocating every other thought. The gnat wormed her way down into the cavity of his chest, laying against the pinky ventricles cozying up to the dying organ, coaxing it back to life.

“Cupid’s fool,” he spoke aloud then, as if he confirmed it to nobody but himself, “body and soul.” A small smirk on his lips as his feet swung from his bed heading to the bathing room to wash himself before the moon peaked in the onyx painted sky, and he met you in that corner corridor.

—

You traced the stones down the hall as you walked until the pads of your finger went numb. After not seeing or hearing from Geta all day, you questioned your sanity as you approached your typical spot as you always did night after night for months. Would he even show?

Caracalla was exceptionally gleeful this evening, an odd thing considering most of the time he cried like an infant throwing tantrums like a toddler.

Your heart raced at the possibility of seeing Geta. You’d never taken into account how handsome he was, and now without seeing him for a full day, you found yourself almost missing catching glimpses of him.

He had two looks that he offered to everyone else. Either sheer and utter boredom, fiddling with his rings in a lazy fashion— or his eyes narrowed into slits, nostrils flared and a twitch kissing the corner of his eyelid, that permanent scowl rising on his top lip.

When he entered a room, he demanded attention in just his body language, shoulders square and broad, chin held high and his jaw tight. Generals rose for him, servants leapt out of the way to avoid him until needed. He was a brute of the highest power.

But in the months of meeting him in the darkness, you had gotten to know how Geta operated. What made him tick, the fatigue wearing on his face after stressful days. The crease between his brows when you told him of Caracalla’s movements—studying, brooding.

It gave you a sense of power knowing that you were seeked out by him. Even if only for information and a wet mouth, you could feel it emanating from him to you when he came. It started roughly. But lately it was almost as if it could be intimate at times. And you weren’t sure what that meant. Either way— with Geta, you knew you were safe.

Darkness enveloped you on your blind approach to the infamous corridor. For a second, you thought possibly you were lost, somehow turned around until you heard a throat clear, and the handsome Emperor appeared before you, having been blocking the open window from view.

“Emperor, my apologies for keeping you waiting,” your lips fumbling as you bowed before him at the waist.

A chuckle rumbled from Geta, “you aren’t late, I am simply early,” he said, scratching at his chin, “I’ve been roaming around since the light left.”

“Oh?”

He simply nodded then, twirling a ruby ring around his finger, “…I have received word that Caracalla is becoming more and more delusional. He has increased his staff, begging our mother to supply a general outside of his door while he sleeps— you’ve probably noticed Acacius following him, yes?”

The ruggedly handsome salt and pepper haired soldier flanked the aforementioned Emperor all day, but you never gave it another thought— your mind busy on Geta’s whereabouts.

“I haven’t trusted my brother since we were young boys using sticks as swords, and the older he gets the more his brain stays in our childhood.” He spoke softly then, “it is only a matter of time before your movements after leaving his chambers are tracked… and I can’t have that. This will be our last meeting.”

You nearly shouted in his face, telling him that these nights were the only thing worth being stolen away from your village. Months you have done this and now it is gone because he was… worried? About Caracalla finding out?

Geta pushed off from the wall, standing with his usual confidence—his jaw tight, a strange look on his face. “What Caracalla does not know— is that Acacius has been loyal to me for years, and has been providing me with information about him for nearly as long.”

Your eyebrows crease as you try to unravel the thread he’s woven, and a small smile ticks at the corner of his lips as realization spreads across your face. Mischievous Geta, always a step ahead.

“Join me?”

—

Geta was approached by Acacius when leaving his chambers this evening.

“Emperor,” Acacius announced, bowing his head in honor, “I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

Geta pulled his chamber door shut waving his hand in dismissal, “nonsense General, whatever it is it must be important for you to seek me out, what is it?”

“This is not easy for me to say.. I feel like a traitor to you. to these walls—”

“Out with it,” Geta pressed, irritated.

“It’s Emperor Caracalla… your excellency, I have been summoned to be posted outside his quarters and provide security for him during the daylight hours.”

Geta rubbed at his chin, a twitch in his eye, “I know you’re not one to joke on a serious matter Acacius, however this seems quite juvenile, even for my brother.”

“I assure you, he has been increasingly suspicious over the last few months, ever since that travel wagon arrived with the Virgines from Valleventus.”

Acacius gave Geta a knowing look, one to convey that he knew what happened in these walls at night once Caracalla’s whore left his chambers.

Geta smiled then, unable to hide it, his face relaxing as he clapped the General on the shoulder, “you are a great confidant, Acacius— I will take this into great consideration.”

—

The two of you strolled the corridors in silence, his knuckles grazing yours, your heart pumping wildly in your chest. You were certain that if the two of you were caught you’d be killed on sight, tossed in a deep grave without a second thought. But with Geta… you couldn’t find yourself to care about any of that. Did he?

You knew you were walking a thin line, and it got thinner the more time you spent with him. But if he was willing to walk it as well, you’d risk it… same as he was

After a few minutes, you broke the silence, “may I…ask you something?”

Geta tilted his head towards you, “yes.”

All day he had been gone, and your curiosity finally got the better of you. “Where were you?”

He smirks and your insides melt, “were you looking for me, little dulex?”

You turn away from his gaze, fumbling with a loose thread on your tolsa, “n-no. Caracalla had asked me.”

A laugh bubbles from his chest, “I am not fond of being lied to, try again.”

Sweat drips from your hairline, “He…well, he inquired about it...”

“Ah, so you were only wondering about my whereabouts when Caracalla finally noticed I was missing?”

“Yes.”

He stopped before a large set of doors and pushed them open revealing a large room, suffocated by darkness. You felt him leave your side to cross the room, and suddenly it illuminated by a candle he had lit. Gently tipping the flame into a massive candelabra, each wick of the candle igniting like a little orb, throwing shadows across the room.

It was one of the many rooms you’d never seen before.

A single staircase wove upwards with great iron detailing to a room above, a desk as large as a wagon was centered in the room, pictures of faces you didn’t recognize flanked the walls, the floors were spread of mosaic tiles: shaped and colored to resemble a salmon colored sunset. An open area let in a small breeze that trickled out into a luscious garden where a fountain could be heard bubbling, brought in by the wind. Luxurious armchairs were tucked into corners.

This room shared the same color of draperies as a room you’ve only been to once before. The dark hues set a mood that belonged to one singular man. This was a private area that even the highest generals weren’t even allowed in. Geta’s study.

He came back towards you, grasping your wrist, his thumb pressing into your beating pulse, his eyes lit like a roaring fire, “last chance, to be honest, were you the one looking for me?”

Hesitating with your breath caught in your throat, you peered into Geta’s seemingly soulless eyes, whispering, “yes,” as a heat rose on your cheeks.

A smirk pulls on his lip, and a dimple you’ve never seen appears, “oh, my puella dulcis,” he purred, shaking his head, those dark eyes hungry as he looked you up and down, “you’re in trouble.”

He pulled you to him, his large hands on your waist leading you further into the room as he walked backwards. “Do you know the pure agony you’ve put me through?”

“Me?”

Geta nods, pushing the straps of your tolsa away from your shoulders, admiring the marks he had left on your skin.

“Yes. You.” he says, rubbing the column of your throat with his thumb. “It is nefarious the hold you have over me. I’ve never felt anything like it. Death would be easier on me. A sword between my ribs to puncture my lungs, the festering boils from a plague, an arrow through my eye— anything and everything would be better than what you do to me.”

His hand clasps tight around your neck, the gasp you let out trapped in your throat.

“So, what am I to do with you? What am I to do with someone who keeps causing me this much trouble? Who risks herself being caught by seeking me out? Who is, dare I say, worried about my well-being?”

He slides his hand up and down the length of your neck, his other stroking your cheek resting his thumb on the crease of your lips.

“I punish my soldiers for much less, and as any great warrior, I shall be fair by keeping all of my subjects to the highest of standards, you unfortunately, are not exempt.”

One minute you’re standing in front of him the next you’re being yanked by your wrist as he stomps towards one of the large chaise lounges, he sits abruptly and pulls you into his lap. He’s hard, the feel of his erection making you whine pathetically.

He holds you by your hips and twists you around, until your face is level with the ground, your ass resting over his knees.

The sound of unbinding thread pops in your ears as Geta rips your tolsa away from you, leaving you bare, your ass on display like a holiday feast.

“I’ve never gazed upon an ass as round and fat as yours, and believe me when I say this my puella dulcis, I will thoroughly enjoy watching it burn in scarlet as it bounces beneath my hand.”

You don’t have a second to comprehend his words before a large ringed hand is slapped hard across your backside, causing you to shriek in surprise and pain.

“Fuck,” Geta spit, “we’ve barely just begun, you should be pissing with glee that I don’t keep my horse whip in my study.” Two more licks rip out and you moan.

He laughs wickedly, his sultry voice shushing you as he rubs his hand over the globe of your ass. “Enjoying this are you? I’ve heard stories from soldiers and even my own father about the whores during their time, how they begged, fucking pleaded to be hit on the ass by a man.”

Geta slaps his hand down hard more and more until you’d lost count. That same scorching feeling in your lower belly and the wetness between your legs just like last night came back, and you moaned.

Humming between your lips, you relished in the ache in your back as you tried to hold yourself up. Trying to wiggle forward so maybe his hand would slip and miss your ass but touch down where you needed him most.

But you didn’t need to ask, Geta laughed through his nose before slipping his thumb through your wet cunt, groaning at the heat of your arousal on his fingers again.

“What a tight fucking cunt you have,” he grunted before rubbing your clit, “ filtjy girl—looks like those legends were true, weren’t they?”

“Please,” you begged, trying to swallow his fingers with your dripping pussy.

Your small pleads tore through him, his cock answering with a twitch as it leaked. He brought you up your throat, holding you in place and moving your hips along the stiff ridge of his length.

Geta sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder as you moaned, “can you feel what you do to me?” he whispered, “the torture you put me through, the hours I spend like this with nothing but you trapped in my head. It’s murderous.”

Purring his name he groans, licking sweat from your neck. “I haven’t had a single hour since the first night we met without having this happening without needing to release myself. Do you think I can be a leader to my people with such indecency? As if I’m a young boy discovering his own body and the feel of his hand again. You’re a snake, filled with poisonous venom to come here and kill me.”

He rips your clothes completely off, wiggling his middle finger against your clit, praising the gods at the angel like whine that whispers from your lips.

“… and like the gnat, the snake has bit me, feasting upon my flesh, constantly hungry. But it is I who is left hungry by your tormenting ways,” he whispers in your ear, licking the shell of it, “and right now, I’m starving.”

Geta hoists you up in his arms, kissing your neck and squeezing your skin wherever he can reach as he walks to the enormous desk full of scrolls. With one mighty hand holding you, he swipes the desk clean, tossing everything that was once organized onto the floor.

He lays you down on the wooden top, your bare back riddling with goosebumps from the cool hard surface. Looking up at him this was the first you’ve seen his face since first entering his study.

His eyes were black, wide and wild, the candle light throwing shadows onto his face making him look monstrous. Like a creature straight from the dark world, one from a story told to children at night to scare them enough to not leave their beds.

Anyone else would run at the sight of such a man. Scream and claw their way from him, but not you. You simply opened your knees wider, showing the dripping wetness to him, what he did to you.

Geta simply watched. Watched and breathed heavily like a predator before leaping to attack his prey. He stared as you sucked a finger into your mouth, he almost flatlined as you brought that spit soaked finger down the length of your body, your nipples pebbling.

He swore he met death when you slipped that glorious finger into your cunt, and gently pumped it in and out.

“This,” you murmured weakly, unable to contain your moans, “is what you do to me.”

He groaned, practically drooling at you laid out before him. You tipped your head back as a small gasp rippled through you. Lifting your shoulders from the desk you looked him in the eyes, “I guess we are both demented, enjoying the torture from eachother.”

“I didn’t want to admit it,” Geta blurted, his dark eyes piercing the night, scaring away the shadows. “All day I wrestled with it, how you could make me quiver like a lovesick boy. I turned away meals, laying in the darkness, surrounded by your bewitching scent.”

“If you’re so hungry,” you whisper seductively, opening your legs wider, your arousal shining in the candlelight as you remove your fingers from inside of yourself, “then by all means, eat.”

Geta didn’t wait another second before pulling you forward by the crook of knees, your welted red ass skirting across the desk. You giggled as he feverishly lowered himself and held your thighs wide, “keep these open for me.”

His tongue was like an eel.

Geta flicked his tongue at a dangerous pace against your clit, groaning into your sex as you whined his name again and again. His licked and sucked your cunt as ravenous as a truly starved man, his moans vibrating your walls, sending your nerve endings into a liquid fired frenzy.

You’d never experienced anyone’s tongue between your legs, but this was better than anything you’d ever imagined, nothing compared to the way your body electrified beneath his hands, his mouth.

Geta’s nose rubbed against your clit as he lapped up your arousal. The burn in your belly seared and unraveled as you screamed out his name, your body rigid and then uncoiling as your muscles spasmed and quaked.

Your hands wrapped in a death grip in his hair, holding him tight to your pussy as you came, Geta encouraging you through the pleasure.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said, admiring the way you leaked and dripped on his desk, “taste so fucking good, this cunt belongs to me,” he breathed.

It was lust and vicious desire emanating from him as he spoke. and you melted at the desperate way you craved him. Grabbing him by the nape of his neck you pressed your lips to his, tasting your arousal on his tongue, you felt drunk

He hauled your weak body up in his arms, murmuring something about wobbly legs. Geta kissed your forehead as he climbed the spiral steps that lead straight into his chambers. His bed was made, but the smell of sex was still lingering from the night before.

Geta laid you down on his massive bed, careful of the marks on your backside from his hand. You watched as he undressed, his arms showing protruding veins like a river in the fallen snow. A deep scar you didn’t recognize before on his torso, identical to the one on his neck. His eyes seemed to look softer, a deep honey simmering, catching the light.

When he spoke it wasn’t with malice it was with truth, “you are mine. Understand? Not Caracalla’s, not anyone else’s, I will slaughter any man who challenges that.”

Your heart races as you stare at him, rising to your knees in front of him, “promise?”

“Meus amor,” Geta speaks, holding your chin with his finger, “that is my veritas, I give you my word.”

You stroked his hair as you pulled him down to the bed on top of you. Pressing his curls back into an unruly position, you admire the handsome Emperor. Your Emperor.

Pressing your lips to his, you pull him deeper, swirling your tongue with his in a frenzied tango. His hips respond to your open legs and his cock slides in with ease, fitting like a sword in a sheath.

“You are a wicked one, my dulcis.” Geta pants in your ear as his hips pick up a butchering rhythm. Your combined breathing is ragged, choked and gasping.

Biting his ear he hisses, but you lick it better, the same as he did to you last night, only a drop of his blood on your tongue as you whisper, “then we are one in the same, destinatum ease, destined to be.”

With that he flips you both over, guiding your hips up and down, forward and back as helps you ride his cock. When you both cum it’s loud, skin slapping skin, your arousal pooling around his cock, his fucked deep inside of you.

Laying in the sweaty, sin stained sheets, you twirl a finger in Geta’s hair, his head laying on your bare chest between your tits, his hand holding your ribs. “Tomorrow I will have the servants change the sheets while I bathe you in my private pool.”

“Is my Geta turning sweet?” you tease, “what will Rome think?”

Turning his head those ravenous eyes were painted in the midnight onyx that they usually were, returning with mischief laced in the irises, a devilish smirk on his lips.

He moved like a serpent, biting your right nipple between his teeth and tugging, causing you to squeal in a pleasured pain that is snuffed out by his large hand around your throat.

“Do not be fooled pretty girl,” the villainous flames flickered again in his eyes, a feral twitch on his lips that made you wet between your legs, “malevolence coats my veins thicker than blood.”

—

latin translation:

vitiosus + deliciosus — vicious + delicious

prandium— lunch

puella dulcis— sweet girl

meus amor— my love

veritas— truth

destinatum ease— destined to be

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#emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader smut #emperor geta smut #geta x you #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta fanfic #geta fanfic #gladiator 2 fanfiction #joseph quinn

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bloomyeu · 5 months ago

Text

with or without you

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: bottling you're feelings for so long, it begins to hurt. until you mention it.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, (no) comfort, not edited

a/n: first fic :p lmk if u liked it hehe

part 2 | masterlist | requests

Love was something you always chased, yearning to feel what people experienced in the movies —the flowers, the kisses, the gifts, that meaningful connection that seems to exist only for a lucky few.

So when you met Chan, it was as if everything blossomed like flowers in spring.

It had started with little things, when chan would mention how much he missed you he on tour

ynnieeee haiiiii

hi channie!

hiiheyyy imithu smmsmsm

bfrjjd i do 2

ur back next week right?

yaya i am, we need to meet up once im back

movie night?

movie night.

You clung to these exchanges, even as you realized they might mean more to you than they did to him.

☄. *. ⋆

there were the times when you both were together, physically close yet emotionally worlds apart. You would catch glimpses of his smile, and your heart would race, but he never noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long. He would tell you stories from concerts, his voice animated and bright, while you hung onto every word, even the ones that hinted at someone else who made him smile that way.

"You know, you always manage to pull me out of a slump," Chan said with a yawn, his voice laced with gratitude.

"Well, I'm glad I can help. You could basically call me your muse," you replied with a light chuckle, the words teasing yet sincere.

"Yeah, you're definitely my muse," he agreed, a soft smile playing on his lips before he turned back to work. You watched him for a moment longer, feeling a warmth spread through you, knowing that he was your muse too.

As the days went by, your feelings only deepened, even as you tried to push them away.

You would lie awake at night, replaying every conversation, every laugh, every moment, searching for signs that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

But each time, you were met with the cold realization that his affection was platonic, kind, and distant, while yours was anything but.

“Chan, have you ever fallen in love?”

“Um, once, but it was a while back. Why?”

“No reason. I’v just always wondered what it feels like to be in that state of mind.”

“Well, it feels like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It feels like everything else fades away, and all that matters is that person. Like you’re finally complete, you know?”

“Must be nice,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied softly.

“So… no one on your mind right now?”

“Nope. You?”

You stared at him for a moment, heart pounding as you fought the urge to tell him the truth.

“Um, no… but maybe one day,” you said, forcing a smile.

☄. *. ⋆

As the months passed by, you found yourself lost in thoughts of him—his smile, his kindness, and all the love he had to give. The ache of missing him became a constant companion, a reminder of the feelings you harbored in silence.

With lunch in hand and a hopeful heart, you made your way to his studio. The anticipation of seeing him again sparked a mix of excitement and anxiety. You approached the studio’s entrance, eager to surprise him, when you nearly bumped into Felix, who was just leaving. “Hey, Lix! I haven’t seen you in forever!” you greeted, trying to mask your anxiety with a bright smile. “Hi, Yn! What are you doing here?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Oh, I’m just dropping off lunch for Chan. I haven’t seen him in so long and thought, why not surprise him, you know?” you replied, your excitement tinged with a hint of nervousness. Felix’s expression shifted subtly, his smile fading into a more thoughtful look. “Ah… maybe it’s better to save the surprise for another time,” he suggested gently. “Can you believe it? He finally has a girl in the studio! I’m actually happy for him—he’s really opening up and putting himself first for the first time since iv met him ahaha”

The words hit you like a cold wave. You tried to keep your composure, but inside, a mixture of confusion and heartache swirled. “A girl?” you echoed, struggling to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t realize…”

Felix nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “Yeah, it’s new. But I think it’s a good thing. Chan’s been so focused on work and producing, and now he’s letting someone in. It’s nice to see him happy.”

You forced a smile, your heart sinking. “That’s… really good to hear. I’m happy for him, too.”

Felix gave you a sympathetic look. “If you want to talk or need anything, I’m here. You know we all are.”

You nodded, grateful for the kindness but feeling a profound sadness. “Thanks, Felix. I appreciate that.”

With a heavy heart, you turned and left the studio, the weight of Felix’s words settling over you. The lunch you’d brought now felt like a symbol of a hope that had been dashed. As you walked away, you tried to focus on the positive—on Chan’s happiness—but the realization that your feelings might never be reciprocated made the day feel heavier than it had before.

☄. *. ⋆

Although the two couldn't have been more apart, your feelings had just continued to grow.

Winter had finally rolled around, bringing with it the warmth of the annual Christmas party Minho would host. The past few months had felt like a fever dream, with your feelings for Chan growing ever more consuming. The holidays, usually a time of cheer, now felt tinged with an undercurrent of longing.

As you walked into the party, the festive lights and laughter offered a brief distraction. You scanned the room until you spotted Chan across the crowded space. With a deep breath, you approached him, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Hiya, Channie! It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” you greeted, trying to keep your voice light despite the fluttering in your chest.

“Yeah, it has. My god, I’ve missed you,” he replied, pulling you into a warm hug. As you nestled against him, you felt your heart clench, overwhelmed by a mixture of joy and sadness.

“I’ve actually been meaning to tell you something,” you began, hesitating as you tried to steady your nerves.

“Me too, actually,” Chan said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “I hope it’s good news.”

“It always is,” you replied with a nervous laugh. “Well, tell me first.”

“No, you go first,” he insisted, a playful glint in his eye.

“Okay” you said with a soft smile. “Well I finally got tickets to the Wave to Earth concert in Seoul—that band I’ve been hooked on.”

Chan’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “Oh, that sounds amazing! I’d love to. But… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you too.”

You felt a slight tightening in your chest, hoping for a revelation that might mirror your own feelings. “What is it?”

“Well, I finally have a girlfriend,” Chan said, his voice softening with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “Or, well, I’m planning to ask her soon. I’m really excited about it.”

The words hit you like a cold wave, and you struggled to maintain your smile. “Oh,” was all you could manage, your heart sinking as you tried to process the news.

“What were you going to say before I interrupted you?” Chan asked, his gaze gentle.

“Oh, um, just that you should go to the concert with me, I know much you love music” you replied, forcing enthusiasm into your voice despite the ache in your heart. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Chan’s smile was warm but distant. “That sounds great. I’m looking forward to it too.”

As the conversation shifted and Chan’s attention drifted to others, you found yourself standing on the periphery, the failed attempt at asking him out now overshadowed by the quiet sting of rejection. The realization that Chan’s heart was set on someone else cast a shadow over the festive atmosphere, leaving you to navigate the mingling feelings of friendship and unspoken longing. The party’s warmth felt like a cruel contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside.

fin.

part 2 | masterlist | requests

#bang chan #bang chan angst #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan angst #skz x reader #skz angst #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #meimei works ౨ৎ

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nanabrainrot · 1 year ago

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IV. Gut Reaction [Kirtch] Kinktober

Day 4: Teratophilia, the sexual attraction to monsters

Warnings! size difference, monster fucking, alien fucking, facesitting, I gave him a ribbed/ridged prehensile tongue like an anteater/alien/cat crossover for horny reasons. @i-drop-level-one-loot is Kirtch’s creator so everyone say thank you to them.

Like a good pet, you wake him up with kisses. The collar isn’t on anymore (of course not at night, what if you were uncomfortable?) and you curl to his side in bed every night now. The weeks, months, years were passing and you were none the wiser: you measured time by how long Kirtch was gone now.

Your lips press kisses to the exoskeleton of his face, warmth greeting him in the morning with soft skin pawing at him clumsily. He was no awful owner by any means, but he was an indulgent one. You climbed on his chest, hands pressing with flat palms against the plates there - cold exoskeleton making you shiver slightly. No matter, he indulged you especially when he made room for you on his bed with the miscellaneous throws of plush, sherpa, faux fur, real fur, satins, and more from neighboring planets or galaxies’ animal pelts. The little sweet bralette and boy short sleep set are moist - the adverse reactions of you to the collar’s chemical seemed to stay in your system forever due to the dosage. Pressing a kiss to the pinchers on his cheeks you coo: “Work today?”

“Of course, little one. I got called in with incentive pay, I told you last night,” he chuckled lightly. Last night, per usual, you were out of your head and airheaded - bucking into the device he used to force orgasms out to tire you faster. Humans were sometimes prone to trouble falling asleep, which he noted dutifully to avoid or a human can be exhausted. One sleepless night was enough to throw off a human’s entire schedule!

You pouted, huffing at him haughtily. All this time with Kirtch had made you bratty, not that you knew. You were just a hedonist who survived off the attentions of your master, the one you initially hated. Now, the days without him were hard and agonizing. It was like leaving your dog at home on a daytrip.

His cold claws graze your skin and you nudge upwards, knees and hands carrying you as you crawl to where his face is with a mischievous grin. Your knees settle on each side of his head: you were a taker who took and took timelessly again and again. You were lucky he was a giver.

The fabric of your shorts gone, you pressed your entrance to his face - a dog in heat. Knowing his strength, you held nothing back from letting your dead weight sit on his face given his size. Slickness pressed on the opening when his mouth was as you impatiently bucked against the opening: wanton and waiting.

Kirtch was a giver. The appendages of his mouth were jarring at first, but the length of his long prehensile tongue licked up and down the slit. It wasn’t a human tongue, the ridges and texture of it stimulating the crevices of your loins with stimulations of all sorts. The gentle licks with the abrasive texture of the muscle made your stomach turn and nipples perk as his big hands went to cradle you above him. He made no effort to alleviate your weight as you squirmed and twitched on him. He was just happy to have you close like this.

The tongue, long and prehensile, stills at your entrance and prods at curiously. Despite his human knowledge, you always found it cute that like human lovers he seemed to have trouble finding that hole at first despite the numerous encounters. You buck, humming in contentment as your head lulls back and your hands stroke the cold shells by his face. Prodding, prodding, you sigh in anticipation. Patience was a virtue and patience had made you stronger than you ever imagined; you weren’t the person you were when Kirtch got you but there were virtues bestowed upon you from this… this situation turned companionship he planted you in.

Prodding, pressing, then sliding, the texture of his tongue is delicious. The movies back of earth with those scary alien tongues always left you with a weird feeling in your belly but the way his tongue felt so thick and ridged inside was a greater pleasure than any dildo you ever played with in your bed back home. Sighing, you stir your hips when his tongue stops when it hits the wall by your cervix and he knows it can go no deeper: you loved being so full, so close to him.

Bucking, your eyes roll as his tongue dips down into where his mouth is obscured by your hips, before sliding back up. The ridges scrape your insides like a ribbed condom or those textured dildos, hot and warm and wet, he fills you before withdrawing. The slow tongue dips back down and jams back up harshly, earning a choked gasp. You stutter, eyes blown wide as the tongue flattened in you: its circumference blown wider to fill you more. The ribs and ridges of the tongue thing press impossibly hard into your walls as you pant lewdly while you struggled to steady you weight by pressing your palms flat on his head. The tip of the tongue swirls around your cervix like a human licks at a nipple and your eyes see spots.

The tongue is long, in and out, flattening and widening then swirling and flicking at your cervix with the hot wet texture of it. You buck, a choked sob as you clench on it. The size of him always hurts given his impressive and inhuman stature; your little body was not made to take the ridiculous dimensions of his races’ appendages in any way. There is a will, there is a way. The way his member left your insides fragile and swollen often led you to seeking pleasure from his mouth while your pussy recovered. A flick of the tip inside, he switched gears and presses hard on your g-spot with a stiff tongue. Drool dribbles from your mouth as your vision slips away while his tongue keeps thrusting in and out, jutting up only to meet the g-spot in beating and steady bursts against the sweet spot until your body was shaking.

Back hunched as you held at his head while you babbled and drooled stupidly, Kirtch withdraws his tongue but only to nuzzle against your clit to drink up the scent of your pheromones to memorize and get him through the day. Regrouping, you still shake on where his tongue emerges from with shaky breaths. He can’t bring himself to move you.

Sometimes it’s okay to be late to work.

#alien x reader #alien smut #nana writes oc #kirtch lemme hit.#shoutout to my beloved mootie patootie for birthing kirtch #prehensile ridged tongue 😍#I mean what #kinktober 2023

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lookforsomeoneelse · 6 months ago

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sahsrau and the ways in which the game’s story changes pt. 1: Sigonia-IV

aventurine’s story made me sad. maybe this is my way of coping. got aventurine’s sister’s name from someone who talked about her on this app. also i’m making a lot of assumptions about how it went down, but there were roughly 10,000 avgins that were involved. also apparently the avgins are based on romani culture and I have no idea about that either soooooooooo cw for blood and severed limbs. and maybe gore. and definitely mentions of death. and probably my ignorance too.

Ecclesiastes 4:1-3

Again I looked and saw all the oppression that was taking place under the sun: I saw the tears of the oppressed-- and they have no comforter; power was on the side of their oppressors-- and they have no comforter. And I declared that the dead, who had already died, are happier than the living, who are still alive. But better than both is he who has not yet been, who has not seen the evil that is done under the sun.

Kezia knew she was going to die. It wasn’t the greatest way to go down at the hands of the bloodthirsty Katicans, but what was honorable about it was that she would meet her end in the rain.

“Kakavasha must have escaped by now,” she thought to herself, “and he will survive.” Kezia held faith in her brother and in the Mother Goddess, Gaiathra Triclops, the one whom she served.

It was now time for the festival- and so she tossed her Knot into the bonfire as a sort of goodbye to this cruel life she had lived in, and lamented on her brother’s fate- he will go through many hardships and sufferings, but she knows that the blessing of Fenge Biyos will remain with him all throughout his journey.

It was a shame she’ll never get to see him again.

She regrets not saying more before their departure.

She had heard that some of the other bastard clans had made a deal with the Interastral Peace Corporation- the people who had promised to protect them on this very day- to make sure that they were all wiped out.

She held her makeshift club in her shaky hands. She didn’t want to die. Not like this. She had wanted to get married and have a family of her own.

And, for the first time in her life, her faith cracked like a shattered mirror.

The Mother Goddess had always let her down-

When Dad fell into the quicksand,

When Mother was caught and slaughtered like an animal,

And now, while she was facing down death.

She remembers one of the workers that came during that first day- praising the Aeon of Guidance and all their works-

And so, under her breath, unsure of how to do it, she prayed for her safety, she prayed for her survival, and most of all, she prayed for the opportunity to see her dearest brother once again.

As the sky wept for the fate of her people, the Katicans arrived, howling laughter emerging from within the storm.

do not worry child

Finding the sudden strength within her, she let out a roar.

i shall be forever with you

Her club slammed into the skull of a Katican, pulverizing it into a bloody mess.

i shall give you strength

Another near her tried to avenge his fallen comrade, and she cratered their face, producing a sickening squelch.

and when you are trapped in the darkness

She didn’t count. How many had fallen at her hands? 100? 500? 1,000? 5,000? All she knew was that the sky wept blood.

i shall bring you into the light

All around her there were the corpses of Katicans, Not a drop of her blood was shed, and nothing to threaten her in her vicinity. She looked down at her hands. Red. Her hands were red, stained with the crimson of those who had tried to end her life.

Kezia wept tears of joy.

“The Avgin always return back their blood debts,” she had remembered saying to her little brother.

It looks like they had a new debt to pay.

(A/N: I have no idea what the hell I just made. I have no beta reader, so there’s that I guess. I don’t have a structure either. I just made stuff up and used the wiki for reference.)

#how does one improve?#is it by proxy?#you just do something a lot and then you get better at it?#idk man #actual tags tho #sahsrau #sahsr #self aware hsr #self aware au #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine’s sister #oh god what have i done

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08melancholie · 2 months ago

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Lessen your Stress. — Dutch Van der Linde/Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Post-Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), Smut, Shameless Smut, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Sex, Spoilers, dont read if you havent finished chapter 6, theres spoilers to it that youll regret, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Mildly Dubious Consent, Abuse of Authority, Authority Figures, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Spit as Lube, Lube, Come as Lube, precum still counts i hope, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: What's one way to relieve the stress of losing your family, friends and entire gang you spent decades building? Dutch assumes it's getting his best friend to fuck his other still-devoted follower with him. It's another power trip of his you will never refuse.

a/n: initially the idea was reader and micah both trying to fight over dutch but then i was like why do we have to fightttt just let them both ruin users guts..... so here we are now. disclaimer: ive literally never written a threesome, i dont know what im doing honestly.... thank you to that one user on here who inspired this.

this is my longest fic up to date... yeah okay lets go touch grass.

words: 5,043 | AO3 LINK

A heap of shouting, spilling of secrets and killing later, the three of you regroup, all alone. Death is haunting you; you almost feel their blood on your hands, for some reason. You can't pinpoint why, but you feel guilty. Might be the fact you're still following Dutch, after he got them all killed.

Dutch might have officially lost his mind, right? You sometimes really wonder how he's made it this far, with such a good gang. Well, until now anyways. It's not until now that you notice a small flip in his head; a switch turning on for the first time. He's sat across from you, only a small fire between yourselves that lights up a small fraction of the area around you; up on a mountain, a small indent into the rocks it's built of serving as a cave of sorts. You're on the other side of the fire, laying down and watching Dutch really think for the first time, in a while. Your head is supported with the satchel you carry around your torso, visibly more uncomfortable than the plush pillows inside your old tent, now left behind. Sat behind you both is none other than Micah; staying forever loyal to the black-haired man lost in his own thoughts, his own pondering whilst his eyes illuminate the fire between your bodies. Micah is quiet; in fact, everyone is. Nobody dares say a word—not you, not Micah, especially not Dutch. Dutch doesn't feel grief, oh no; that isn't what this can be. You'd think that leaving two of your sons to die even after having the choice to save them both would make a man go crazy, but Dutch is clearly too far gone for that.

The fire crackles again, and you can't stand the silence any longer, opening your mouth to speak up. "We'll be fine, Dutch. Don't stress so much."

His head perks up from the fire, the flame-ridden irises of his catch your own. "Fine?" He repeats after your reassurance—not sounding all that reassured. You swallow and nod, always feeling so small under that dark gaze of his. "I would love to have even an ounce of your optimism." He barks, and you sink even lower. Well, it was a good try, if nothing.

He and Micah share a look, and it all goes quiet again. Fire crackles; animals howl in the distance; shrubbery whistles under the small wind blowing through the area. And all is quiet.

It seems as you'll be spending the rest of the night in here, so you decide to rest your exhausted body for today. You toss over and get as comfortably as one can, making an attempt at sleeping off the sour mood and thick tension in the air.

Your slumber only lasts you a few mere hours, both the very early morning sun picking at your eyes and gloved hands on your bare skin breaking you away from the little sleep you managed yourself. You grumble, turning to lay on your back. "Get'cho ass up," Micah, standing over you, takes a step back and moves his hands off you, the leather material slipping away from your waist. You sit up and rub your knuckles into your eyes, taking your satchel from underneath where your head was and standing up. "hoping you enjoyed Colter, darlin'." Oh, Colter; if hell was an icy, snowy blizzard, you'd assume they were talking about that part of West Grizzlies.

"Don't tell me we're going back." You hold off on groaning—only briefly as Micah nods and you can't help yourself, not at all fond of going back there again. "Why West Grizzlies, anyways?" You ask, watching him kick at the burnt-out campfire from last night.

Micah stomps out the ashy, black logs, turning back over to you with a shrug. "Dutch says so." Of course he does.

You hold back on rolling your eyes. "He at least in a better mood than yesterday?" You ask, very much still remembering his bite back to your simple attempt at making the situation you three were currently in a little more bearable. Micah starts walking off while talking to you, and you follow close behind, leaving the makeshift cave.

"Wouldn't put ma' money on it," He responds, voice getting quieter the closer he leads you towards Dutch—smoking a cigar, per the usual—and your three horses. "don't test yer luck, hm?" He gives a low chuckle, and you just sigh. Snow; low temperatures; blizzards; all things you wanted to leave and forget in Colter. But, here you were.

Dutch gives an acknowledging nod to both of you, which you swiftly return. "We ready to go, then?" Micah gives him another nod, and walks up to Baylock. You follow to your own horse, petting it briefly before getting up onto the saddle, mounting up as the two of them soon do the same.

The three of you start the long journey back up towards the mountains; almost feeling that familiar deja-vu-feeling kicking in.

The ride is long and definitely not friendly; the moment your horses get you to the snow, the wind picks up and so does the snow, plowing down on all six of you. It's almost unbearably annoying, having to ride with one hand on your reins and one covering the top of your eyebrows to block out the snow from your vision. It's only a long while later that the three of you get up on the snow-covered mountain of your liking, finding an abandoned area with a cabin, definitely big enough for the three of you, for now.

The three of you hitch your horses safely into a small stable-like area, making sure they wouldn't be cold in their spots. Afterwards, one after another, you enter the cabin and inspect it; it's a medium-sized hut-type room, a few cots still stable enough to sleep in and a kitchen on the other side, most cabinets left open and empty. Mere minutes of searching left you with a few cans of fruit and vegetables, but between you three, hunting will definitely be a must for nourishment. At least theres a run-down fireplace you can use to warm up your shivering bodies. Dutch sends Micah to get firewood, instructing you to work with him and make the place look a bit less messy. And, three of you get to work.

It isn't exactly homey, but it'll do. Can't be picky now, can you? You had a home, and it was Dutch's own fault everything at 'home' went to shit.

It's been about a week since, and you've gotten used to the spot you three settled into, you could even start calling it home. Well, no—nothing will ever replace the home that the gang provided, but that's something you'll have to simply cope with. You're still following Dutch, so really, do you miss them that much? Your trail of thought is broken up by the sound of the creaky cabin door opening, raising the volume of the small blizzard going on outside briefly.

Dutch and Micah enter after another, closing the door of the small cabin and blocking out the sound of wind outside. Your head perks up from the small book you were examining at the sound, and you nod in greeting. "Hey," Your gaze goes back to the book until Dutch clicks his tongue at you.

"Eyes up here."

You don't take even a second to comply, meeting his eyes but occasionally drifting them to Micah. You're slightly confused, they're acting odd. "You need something, Dutch?"

"Stand up."

Every command sends a small shiver to your spine, that much is sure. You place the book down and rise from your seat on the creaky cot, taking a step towards them to stand before the two men. Your compliance and submissiveness always sends one side of Dutch's mouth up slightly. "Got a.. proposition for you. Well... Not exactly, anyways." Micah matches Dutch's dark chuckle after the leader speaks up again, both looking down at you. "Listen now, it's been pretty cold, hasn't it, my dear?" As Dutch speaks to you, your eyes stay glued on him; but you can see Micah taking slow steps away from the leader, and around you. You focus on Dutch again, nodding. "That's what we thought. You see," He then takes a step closer to you, gloved hands clasping together in front of you. "we can keep ourselves warm without wasting so much firewood." At Dutch's words, you can definitely feel Micah so much closer to you, from behind your back. You're starting to feel something bubble in your abdomen; was it nervousness, anxiety? Lust, arousal? You couldn't exactly tell.

"Tell me, my dear," Another two steps; one in front of you, one behind you. You feel like you're being circled by sharks in an ocean, hunters on prey, making you feel small again. "you're a smart girl; you do know what I mean, don't you?" Oh, you do. You know it all too well as you've imagined it one too many times—late at night in your tent, your hands on yourself underneath the blanket, muffling the moans of their names into your palm—so it's not an unfamiliar feeling. Your words seem to only fail you further the more he speaks, so you just nod again. His moustache follows the curve of his lips when that devilish smirk arises again. "Thought so. Now..."

His gloves glide over your shoulders, leather on leather as he stands right in front of you now. "And surely, you wouldn't mind trying this new warm-up with us, would you?"

Like a cat playing with a mouse it's caught, toying with it until it breaks. Except, it's two big cats and one meek little mouse. A hot breath glides down to you, right over your shoulder when Micah draws himself closer, and you feel stuck in your spot between them—even more so when Micah places his gloved hands down to your sides, almost kneading at your waist. Now, how could you ever say no? It's Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell. For one, you've been imagining this scenario in the comfort of your tent, late into the many nights that turned very hot, very quickly. But also, do you really have a choice? Your boss; your leader, asking such a vulgar and intimate thing of you? What would he say if you refused? Would he let you refuse? Is this all another power-trip he'll hold over your head?

No time for questions when Micah squeezes your waist to bring you back to reality. "He asked 'ya a question, doll." He purrs—its low and sultry, right next to your ear, accompanied by another knead to your body. You feel almost lightheaded by your current situation. Your hands have been unconsciously balled-up, digging into your trousers in an attempt to ground yourself. "C'mon, answer the man." And all you can manage is a nod, again. A moan would probably leave your mouth if you opened it, which.. would also be an answer. Your nod was really all it took, a silent consent more than enough for Micah's hands to travel to your hips and for Dutch's to find the sides of your neck.

"Good girl, always listening to me like this. I know you wouldn't disobey."

The feeling is indescribable, really—Micah touches you with urgency and carelessness, almost selfishly and greedily; his hands map out the contour of your body, almost as if trying to mould your curves to his liking. Dutch, however, takes it hellishly slow; thumbs brush over the front of your neck while the tips of his other fingers dig into the sides, almost as if trying to coax you to relax into whatever they have planned for you. "Oh, she's good, boss." Whenever Micah speaks, it ends up right next to your ear, and you feel that familiar shiver down your spine. An agreeing chuckle leaves Dutch's mouth, which is very close to your face; your own lips. You're clueless as to what you have to do—should you stay stiff? Touch one of them? Say anything at all to their comments and wandering touches?

Dutch's slow pace slips up when he can't hold himself back from giving himself a taste of yourself, dipping his head down to latch onto your lips. It's nice and quick, and your hands find themselves creeping up his coat and resting on his shoulders, whereas his move under your jacket and place themselves on your ribs and under your chest. Micah is pressed right up to your back now, one hand leaves your hip to move your hair away from your neck, sliding your jacket collar down as he starts to pepper the side of your neck in kisses, occasionally sucking on the skin while pressing his hips to your backside—you can already feel him through both of your clothes. Dutch takes a moment to lick your lip, coaxing you to open your mouth up for him. You comply and your lips part an opening for Dutch's tongue, hands squeezing at his shoulders.

His tongue explores around your mouth with profound efficiency; with experience. It makes the feeling in your abdomen all the more prominent, and you slowly feel a heat rushing to it. Micah isn't any worse either, the mixture of his gentle kisses, rough sucks and sometimes licks up your neck all make you more worked up than you'd ever want to imagine. He's still pressed up to your rear, hands at the very top of your outer thighs, roughly handling you like previously. Then, Dutch starts unbuttoning your jacket. Slowly, each one gets undone, and your jackets pools between yours and Micah's boots, who carefully kicks it aside, just to continue marking up your neck. His stubble and beard occasionally brushes against your sensitive neck, making you let out little sounds into Dutch's mouth. Oh, how they're enjoying this.

Dutch momentarily breaks away from you, leaving you to finally breathe in. "You know, I always liked how you followed me so blindly," Dutch's hands move up and brush over your chest, then cup both of the muscles. "it was so damn hard to not take you right then and there, in camp." You gasp and sigh when his hands start massaging and fondling you. This much foreplay has never gotten you so worked up in your life, and you can definitely feel the dampness between your legs growing with each moment. Then, Micah's hands move. They're getting impatient, seen so by the man behind you who starts groping your rear, breathing oh-so-sweetly down your neck. "I'mma have my fun with'chu, sweet thin'." His hums have goosebumps running up your body. His hands squeeze your ass a final time before moving, sliding down onto your inner thighs. You almost think that he can tell how wet you are, from the low laugh he lets out into your neck.

Impatience really overtakes both of them when they break away and start stripping. Coats, vests, undershirts, trousers; all the many layers you need to survive the coldness of West Grizzlies. Once they're almost bare, left in their underpants, they walk to one of the cots and coax you to follow, taking a seat next to each other and gesturing for you to stand in front of them. "Your turn, my dear." Dutch commands, leaning back slightly.

"Make sure to give us a good show, darlin'." Micah adds, following Dutch and also leaning back. And a good show, they shall receive. You start with your undershirt, slowly and almost teasingly unbuttoning it, exposing yourself inch by inch, moment by moment. "Oh, she's good." Micah purrs to Dutch, looking at you intently and never breaking his eyes away from your body. Dutch gives an agreeing hum, nodding to the other mans' words as you move to your jeans, shrugging your undershirt off while undoing the restraints of your jeans. You slip them off and toss both clothing articles to your jacket, standing in only your garments, now only covering your chest and mound. Their eyes are still so predatory, it's almost killing you. Then, finally, Dutch gestures with his hand for you to move closer, and you step up right in front of them. They part slightly to the side, and Micah pats the space between them on the bed. You understand instantly and comply just as quickly, sitting between them now. "Attagirl... how'd 'ya train 'er to listen so well, boss?"

Neither of them say more, as Micah leans in to get his lips onto yours himself now, kissing you with speed and want; need. Dutch's hands go to your back, fiddling with your bra to get it off of you. Oh, but the best part is Micah's hands; one reaches down between your legs instantly, swiping across your slit over your undergarments. "Oh shit, 'yer this damn wet already?" Both men laugh in sync, dark and low chuckles filling the cabin. His fingers find your clit under the fabric and start rubbing, coaxing you to moan into his mouth which you do. He loves how your meek little gasps and whimpers echo down his throat, and he rubs faster. The other hand of his tangles itself in your hair, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Dutch finally undoes your bra clasps, working it off of you without disturbing Micah and his workings on you. Your bra is tossed elsewhere, and one of Dutch's hands instantly finds your chest, fondling one while latching his mouth onto the other. Your hands grip one shoulder of theirs each, nails digging into the skin as your moans vibrate into Micahs mouth, hips already twitching into his two fingers working your bundle of nerves perfectly. Micah only breaks himself off your lips for a brief moment, "Can't wait to see this pretty cunt stretch around me." his mouth is back on yours, and the sentence alone has you grinding into his two fingers. Where's your dignity now?

Dutch's lips kiss around your nipple, teeth graze and pull oh-so-perfectly, and you already feel like you're close. They handle you with very different paces and things in mind; Micah is clearly trying to humiliate, get you to cum for him as quick as he can to give his ego a boost. Dutch however, he's now teasing; torturously slow pace on both of your tits, yet it works you up just as well as Micah's finger and mouth. And both are equally as blissful.

"Think she's ready for us?" Micah slows his fingers down and moves away from your lips to Dutch's question.

"Oh, surely, see how she's try'na fuck herself on my fingers? Poor, little thing. Bet she wants more."

"Well," Dutch leans away from your chest, standing to get his undergarments off. It's not long before Micah follows, and you can barely look at them; nude as the days they were born, with two almost equally as big cocks twitching for you, some precum at both their tips. It's a sight. "reckon she knows what she has to do—" He turns from Micah to yourself. "—doesn't she?" You swallow. Call it practice for what's to come, literally.

You shuffle off of the bed, and your knees meet the wood floors. Their grins down at you leave your panties practically leaking your own arousal. Looking between them, unsure where to start, you choose the leader—obviously. You get on-level with his hips, placing your hands on his thighs. "Oh, now don't leave my partner out, my dear." Dutch takes one of your hands by the wrist, guiding it to Micah's lower abdomen. "Show us both some love, baby." You can barely breathe at this point, and your hands might even be trembling slightly. Now, you've given maybe one blowjob/handjob in your life; but both, at the same time? This is overwhelming. Nonetheless, can't disappoint your boss, now can you? You push your thoughts down and slide your hand around Micah's shaft, running your thumb over his precum-covered tip to slicken it slightly, while simultaneously licking a stripe up the underside of Dutch's cock, collecting the leaky substance for a taste. Their faces are full of arousal and pure bliss, they almost make you feel proud. Dutch raises a hand to run through your hair, tugging on it. "We're old, impatient men, my darlin'. Get to it."

You take half of Dutch in your mouth, and start pumping your hand up and down Micah, earning a few praising groans and another tug to your hair, trying to draw you closer. You take Dutch until he hits the back of your mouth, and you barely suppress gagging on him. Don't need to inflate his ego that much. You move and bob your head, saliva slickening Dutch's dick up and painting your lips, some gathering at the corners of your mouth. Your hand works Micah in a slightly faster pace, seeing as it's easier to pump your hand over his shaft than take one in your mouth—especially one Dutch's size. You're used to average men, so this might as well even be nice. Not so much when he'll be stretching you open, but we'll get to that problem later. You continue your demonstrations, getting both of them to groan and even chuckle sometimes, looking down at you. They always looked down at you, you knew so much—but only ever figuratively. Never literally.

It's not long before Dutch grabs your head and just fucks himself into your mouth at his pace, which makes it easier to focus on your hand that's working Micah. You increase the pace of your hand, occasionally teasing the tip to see it twitch before continuing. "Wouldn't be surprised if you was a whore before 'ya joined us, so good at this." Micah's comment should make you mad, but you're definitely more turned on than anything. "Keep working dem pretty fingers around me, 'm close." And you absolutely will.

Dutch, however, doesn't give you a warning like Micah; he suddenly cums down your throat with a groan, and you have to focus on not gagging all over his dick as it empties itself out into your mouth, and you swallow every drop like if it were holy water. Unfortunately, you're not given a breather when he withdraws his hips from your mouth, as Micah pulls your hand away from his cock and brings your closer to it, grasping your jaw and squeezing so that your lips part. "Open." You don't feel like being painted all over with his cum, so you comply instantly, and he jerks himself a few times before spilling into your mouth like Dutch, your hands finding his thighs to brace yourself.

"Damn, she's good." Dutch seats himself back on the cot with a small creak, palming himself—somehow still semi-hard. Micah lets go of your jaw after he's spent, and you can't stop yourself from coughing as you swallow practically every drop, only a few around your mouth still. Micah chuckles down at you before grabbing you by the sides, his hands grasping your waist as he brings you back to your feet. "Come on then, you ain't done yet, or are 'ya, babydoll?" You're guided over to Dutch, turned to face him as both men help position you over him to straddle the leader. Micah's hands are replaced by Dutch's ones, who immediately moves your panties off and guides your folds around his shaft to slicken himself up again. "Still practically dripping. Oh, you poor thing. We won't be selfish no longer, my dear, you shall get your own, too." His tip slides to your entrance, and you have to grasp his shoulders to keep yourself steady, your lips slightly parted in pleasure. Slowly, Dutch's tip presses into you, and you squeak out a moan as you feel that small stretch you were dreading. "I'll go slow, don't wanna split our new toy in half, do we darling?" Well, that's exactly how you're feeling, oddly enough.

You're gasping and moaning as every inch of his disappears into your slick walls, the lewd noises mixing with Dutch's small praise and breathy exhales as you sink down on his cock, feeling it twitch inside you a few times. "Good girl, taking all of me like that." He gives you a moment to adjust before lifting your hips up and slamming right back down, earning a strained moan out of you, nail indents marking his shoulders up as they dig into the flesh, which just makes him laugh. "Love how tight you are, like it's sucking me right in. Your cunt loves me stretching you out, huh." His hips slowly begin to slap against you, filling the cabin with the suggestive noises of skin-on-skin and moans.

As you finally get used to his size, you feel hands on your waist from behind. You almost forgot Micah was there, seeing how quiet he was being. Then, one hand trails down to your rear, and a thumb circles your anus. "Can't leave me out again, can 'ya?" His thumb slowly draws itself into you, and you have to bite down on Dutch's shoulder. Jesus, you did not expect them to try and fuck you at the exact same time, even less from behind. He briefly extracts his thumb to spit at your entrance, circle it and then stick it right back in, trying to loosen your muscles up for his—much fucking bigger, may you add—member. They find a similar pace, Dutch is rutting you down onto his dick while Micah's thumb stretches your other hole out, readying it for his cock which is already leaking in anticipation. You brace yourself when he moves his thumb out and spits again, this time on his own cock to moisten it up again, mixing the saliva with his precum. Then, his tip slaps against your ass a few times, before it slides to your opening. Dutch has slowed his thrusts down to let Micah get in as well, and you haven't stopped biting at his shoulder since you started, almost drooling around it. Even if it's only the tip, as soon as Micah eases it in, you shudder and gasp into Dutch's flesh, biting down harder as your asshole feels every little stretch it's getting from Micah's thick cock. Thankfully, it's sliding in somewhat-easily after a few moments, Dutch's hands squeezing your hips as he shushes you to relax you, and Micah's caressing your backside as he slowly sinks into you.

The first thrust is the worst, obviously. You almost immediately shiver when Micah slowly slips out of you, to the tip, before drawing his hips right against your ass again. Dutch coos into your ear to keep you collected as Micah gets you used to his size, kissing your slightly sweaty spine briefly. "Come on, 'ya can take me, girlie." He sinks his whole length into you, almost as breathless as you. Then, they slowly find a synced pace and fuck into you from both holes as you gasp against Dutch's shoulder and shudder into him. "We'll let'cha cum too, don't worry doll." Micah slides a hand over to your abdomen, and his thumb circles your clit once more. You're on cloud nine—hell, you've never been high, but it's probably similar to this feeling. Your holes are tight around their cocks, all three now audibly gasping and moaning in sync. It's possibly the lewdest trio you've ever heard. With how they're thrusting into you, you're reduced to a goddamn mess; gasping, moaning their names, your cunt and anus tightening and squeezing, your mouth open and tongue slightly sticking out—you look like a dog, almost. Their bitch, that's for sure. From now on, anyways. You don't see how this could ever be a one-time-thing.

You can feel your orgasm building again, and you've honestly been doing pretty well, all things considered. "Can't cum in that pretty cunt, but I can back here." Micah's comment runs goosebumps over your body, and you already dread the feeling of that. His breath brushes over your skin as he kisses up your back again, reaching the nape of your neck and grazing his teeth over it, all while his hips slam into your ass. Dutch is stroking your sides, his cock twitching even more inside you. He's close—Micah's close—you're close—you might all just come at the same time.

That's exactly how it goes down. You're first to hit your orgasm, one that causes you to squeeze around their cocks once more, which is enough for both of them to hit their peaks with you, Micah staying buried deep in your guts while Dutch pulls out and jerks himself dry over your mound and his stomach, gasping for air in sync with you. Micah draws his spent member out of your asshole slowly, some of his cum leaking out and down your thigh. He takes a breather on your back and hugs around your waist, heaving into your spine. Your body relaxes over Dutch's, who can barely hold all three of you up. It takes all three of you a moment of no movement to calm down from your highs, before Micah is first to move off your back and help you off Dutch, slowly seating you next to him. "Well, goddamn, princess. Dutch was right; 'ya didn't disappoint for even a moment." He hums, getting to the nightstand and tossing a rag over your stomach. He shuts the drawer and sits down next to you, cleaning Dutch's spent off of your stomach while you gather your thoughts, before wiping his shaft and tossing it over to Dutch.

"I'm sure you know we aren't leaving you be after that performance, my dear." Dutch adds as he wipes him self clean, and you just wordlessly nod, laying back slightly. "I guessed so." He chuckles, and Micah chimes in with his own breathy laugh, standing to walk over and grab everyone's clothes, giving them out to you and Dutch before starting to get dressed himself.

And you're damn sure you won't want to stop anytime soon either.

Kudos on AO3 appreciated, as always! This fic killed me omg its my longest one up to date and its got me in a chokehold. fuck i wanna be between them so bad.

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worseforwords · 9 months ago

Text

Danger

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter IV of Marshmallow

Four minutes. That’s how long it took for Alessia to say something that made your head spin when you saw each other again for the first time after Paris. You were in the changing room, unable to stop yourself from eavesdropping on the conversation on the other side of the room after Beth asked Alessia about the weekend you spent together in the city of love. “Yeah, it was really romantic. It almost felt real in a way.”

Her words caused you to perk up in an instant, and you could hear big, dramatic gasps emanating from Beth, Vic, and Kyra. “No, not like that, you idiots,” she quickly added. Of course not. Of course, it wasn’t like that.

The next few weeks once again revolved around finding the right balance between you and Alessia which was tougher than it seemed at first. You consciously distanced yourself from Alessia, even though you valued the friendship and connection the two of you had built over the past two months.

About three weeks in, you started feeling like you finally had things under control. You saw each other in training, talked and laughed together, but you always kept it light and casual. Both of you mostly fell back into your usual friend groups, so avoiding her outside of football wasn’t that hard, although you had to come up with excuses a few times in the process.

You were really feeling more confident in your own defences, so when Leah begged you to finally join a team night out again, you said yes. After all, you had started to run out of reasons not to, and obviously, you couldn’t tell her the real one.

The night out at the bar with your teammates was exactly what you needed after a long week of training. As you entered the lively bar, the sounds of laughter and music welcomed you. The atmosphere was electric, and you could tell it was going to be a memorable evening.

Leah wasted no time in rounding everyone up for a round of drinks. “First round’s on me!” she exclaimed with a mischievous grin, already heading towards the bar as you followed closely behind.

Meanwhile, Beth and Viv found a cozy corner booth for all of you to sit. Katie, true to form, was already causing a scene, engaging in animated conversation with the bartender as she ordered a round of shots for the table. “Make ‘em strong, mate!” she called out, earning a chuckle from the rest of the group.

“Katie, you’re going to get us kicked out before we’ve even had a chance to sit down,” Beth teased, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Relax! I’m just trying to spice things up a bit,” Katie retorted with a wink, earning another round of laughter from the group.

As the night progressed and the drinks kept flowing, Katie’s suggestion of playing a drinking game was met with enthusiastic approval from the group. The game started innocently enough, with rounds of laughter and playful banter filling the air. Laura was the first to lose a round, and she accepted her fate with a grin, downing a shot with flair.

Next up was Vic, who groaned dramatically when she lost. “Alright, no more shots for me. Hit me with your best dare,” she declared, rolling her eyes playfully. After a brief debate the group decided she had to do a TikTok dance all by herself on the empty dance floor. Brave as she was she did so without much hesitation, before sprinting back to the booth and falling into a fit of giggles in embarrassment.

After a couple of rounds, the alcohol had clearly taken its effect, and the laughter grew louder with each passing moment. The first few rounds you were on top of your game, and admittedly also a bit lucky. Luck wasn’t on your side forever though, and as the alcohol started taking its effect on you too, you eventually found yourself making more mistakes and losing a round.

Having had plenty of alcohol by now, you too decided on doing a dare instead of a shot. As everyone started discussing what they could have you do, Katie’s voice cut through the chatter, “How about you tell us how good of a kisser Alessia is!”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shot a startled, somewhat angry glance at Alessia, who met your gaze with an apologetic expression. You hadn’t realised anyone beyond the two of you knew about your intimate moment in Paris.

Alessia’s eyes then darted to Vic, who was busy shooting daggers across the table at Katie, who remained grinning, awaiting your response. It dawned on you how naive you had been to think such a juicy secret could remain between just the two of you in this team, but you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed in Alessia. Though you now realised she likely saw the kiss as nothing more than a funny anecdote, and you couldn’t blame her for that. Unlike you, one sloppy kiss hadn’t left her longing for more, wanting to do it again every time you moved your lips to speak. She didn’t think about the feeling of your hands caressing the back of her neck every time she caught a whiff of your perfume, and she sure as hell didn’t imagine being trapped against a wall anytime you leaned into her before a corner. She wasn't pathetic like that. And neither were you, of course.

“I’ll take the shot instead,” you declared, tossing it back before excusing yourself and swiftly heading towards the toilet. You splashed some water on your face, and waited a while, hoping the topic of conversation would change whilst you were gone. Stepping back out after a minute, you found Alessia waiting in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her expression apologetic as she placed a hand on your arm, indicating her sincerity. “I was stupid enough to think that would spread this quickly.”

“It’s fine, really,” you replied as you turned away, intending to rejoin the team, but Alessia’s grip on your wrist stopped you. “Wait—” she said and you turned around expectantly just as she tripped over her own feet and stumbled towards you, letting herself be caught by you.

“Oh hi,” she said, her face now mere centimetres away from yours, and the familiar smell of her breath mixed with the smell of alcohol messed with your brain. “Maybe we should… you know— practice being girlfriends again, in case your parents show up or whatever,” she suggested with a grin, prompting you to steady her on her feet. She was clearly very intoxicated, more so than you and you realised there was no use in explaining to her again that your fake relationship was over. “Let’s head back inside shall we?” You suggested, avoiding her gaze as you turned away from her once more.

“Yes! Let’s dance,” she exclaimed excitedly, following behind you. By the time you arrived, your teammates were already dancing the night away, and you quickly made your way over to Leah, distancing yourself from Alessia.

“Mate, are you okay?” Leah asked, concern evident in her voice as she observed your expression. “You look proper floored.”

“Yeah, all good,” you lied, forcing a smile. “Nothing to worry about,” you tried to reassure her. Leah remained quiet for a bit, looking you up and down then scanning your face, seemingly unconvinced. “Well, great,” she replied finally, crossing her arms. “Now why the hell didn’t you tell me the two of you kissed?”

“Oh, that,” you began, trying to sound casual. “It didn’t mean anything, okay? So just drop it, please.” The annoyance in your voice caught yourself off guard and you quickly shifted your gaze to the floor, in fear of Leah’s reaction. “Jesus, all right,” she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes, mate.”

“Sorry Lee,” you groaned with an apologetic smile, although you knew she wasn’t really mad at you. She knew you were upset but she also knew you were as stubborn as a mule when it came to being vulnerable and talking about your feelings. She rolled her eyes dramatically and said, “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just have a good time and forget about it, alright?”

You danced with Leah and some other teammates for a while before some of them headed to the bar with the promise of yet another round of drinks. Alessia seized the moment, pulling you into the centre of the lively crowd. The atmosphere was charged with energy, and Alessia, unburdened by inhibitions, twirled you around with an infectious grin.

As the music intensified, Alessia’s movements grew bolder. In the dim light and pulsating music, she closed the distance between you, her hand lingering on yours, and her body moving in sync with yours. You swallowed hard as you realised your intoxicated state inhibited you from doing anything but enjoy this moment.

At one point, the music slowed, and Alessia’s hand found its way to the small of your back, her gaze locking onto yours. She leaned in, a hint of mischief in her eyes, and you tensed, any questions you had getting stuck in your throat as you anticipated her next move.

Alessia’s lips brushed against your cheek, dangerously close to a kiss, but as you looked over her shoulder, you noticed Leah raising an eyebrow at you from where she stood across the bar. The realisation of what was happening hit you like a jolt, and you instinctively pulled back, breaking the intimate moment. A wave of conflicting emotions surged within you—temptation, confusion, and the desperate need to regain control. And you ran.

Leah caught up with you after a few minutes. “Hey! Wait, Y/N,” she called, grabbing your shoulder to slow you down from behind. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lee,” you groaned.

“Fine, don’t talk. But you’re not going home alone. I’m calling us an Uber,” she declared, and you knew there was no changing her mind. “Fine,” you sighed.

As you and Leah settled into the Uber, the ride was uncomfortably quiet. Each passing streetlight cast fleeting shadows across Leah's face, highlighting the concern etched into her features and her clenched jaw. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet her gaze, opting instead to stare out of the window as the city blurred past.

When the Uber pulled up outside Leah’s apartment, you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation. Following your friend inside, you sank into the welcoming embrace of her sofa, feeling the weight of her gaze like a physical pressure.

Leah wasted no time, her voice cutting through the silence with unwavering determination. “Alright, out with it,” she demanded, her tone firm and uncompromising. “You’re not getting any sleep before you tell me what’s going on.”

At first, you scoffed at her blunt approach, your defences rising instinctively as you crossed your arms and stared at the wall. But beneath Leah’s steely exterior, you could sense the genuine concern and care in her words, and a part of you longed to unburden yourself to someone who truly understood. “I don’t know what to tell you, Lee. Nothing’s going on.” You briefly paused before quietly adding, “That’s the problem…”

“This is about Alessia,” Leah stated. Clearly, it didn’t matter how vague and distant you acted; she would always see right through you. “Y/N… that didn’t look like nothing to me.” Her voice was softer now, as she took a seat next to you.

“Well, it was,” you stated, and with a heavy sigh, you relented, the floodgates opening as you poured out anything and everything that had happened between you and Alessia in the past two months and how you felt about it. How you felt about her.

Leah listened intently, her expression softening as she absorbed your words, offering no judgment, only support. As you spoke, if only slightly, you felt a flicker of relief wash over you. And as the tears flowed freely, Leah remained by your side.

When you were done speaking, she held you as you shed a few more tears, until you felt your eyelids grow heavy. “Let’s get you to bed,” Leah softly stated as she took you to her guest bedroom.

The next morning, you woke up feeling a bit groggy but grateful for Leah’s help and care. When you entered the kitchen, she was still nowhere to be seen, so you decided to cook up a nice breakfast to thank her. You knew her kitchen like your own, as you always had to cook for her when you visited, not trusting her with it one bit. By the time Leah walked into the kitchen, you noticed her eyeing the food on the table with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“I made breakfast,” you offered with a chuckle, knowing all too well Leah’s lack of culinary skills. “Figured I’d return the favour. I can’t handle feelings without you, and you won’t have anything to eat without me.”

Leah raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to take cooking lessons,” she retorted, grabbing a slice of toast and taking a bite.

You both shared a laugh as you sat down to enjoy the delicious breakfast you had made. You ate in silence, and despite the weight of yesterday’s conversation still lingering in the air, there was a sense of peace and understanding between you.

Eventually, Leah broke the comfortable silence, her tone serious yet gentle. “Listen. I know there’s no way in hell you’re taking my advice on this,” she began, “but just for the record, I think you should tell her how you feel.”

You couldn’t help but shake your head, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “I can’t, Leah,” you admitted, the weight of your words heavy in the air. ��She’s happy with Dan, and it wouldn’t be fair to her. Besides, I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.”

Leah sighed, her expression softening with understanding. “I get that, I really do, but you’re torturing yourself by letting things go on like this,” she said, her voice laced with concern.

Leah’s words stuck with you the rest of the day as you replayed the events of last night in your mind. She wasn’t wrong; this was torture for you.

By the end of the day, the solution seemed clear to you: avoid Alessia altogether. Confessing your feelings to her was not an option, and being around her hurt you. So, really, avoiding her was the only sensible thing to do.

The following week, you did everything in your power to make your plan work. You sat opposite to wherever she was in the changing room and in meetings, and left immediately after every training session. You stopped hanging out with teammates altogether, fearing she might join in. When Lotte mentioned she was coming over to your shared apartment, you quickly made up an excuse and left for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t easy, and frankly, it was painful when you felt her trying to reach out to you. She would attempt to start a conversation, and you would suddenly make a beeline for Leah or pretend you didn’t hear her. One time, she even sent you a photo of a new type of chocolate pretzels she had found, which you ignored. When she asked if you wanted to talk, you ignored that too, and it hurt.

Nevertheless, you knew in your heart this was the only way to keep the both of you from getting hurt, and so you persevered. That was until after two more weeks of avoidance, the inevitable finally happened.

Your alarm went off early that morning after not having had much sleep. The night before, Alessia had suddenly shown up at your apartment, stating she was there to meet Lotte. She had asked if you wanted to join them for dinner, and you made up an excuse and left. You didn’t return until much later, when the only light visible through the curtains was the little nightlight in the living room, and you knew the coast was clear. You stirred for a long time before finally falling asleep, having spotted Alessia’s coat and shoes in the hallway and knowing she was lying on the other side of the wall you were staring at.

You didn’t have training until later that day, but you decided on an early alarm so you could escape the apartment before anyone else would wake up. You quickly threw on some joggers and a sweatshirt and kept your morning talk in the mirror short and to the point. You felt a sense of confidence wash over you as you realised you’d managed to prevent yet another encounter with the person you had been avoiding for weeks.

All that confidence left your body in an instant however, when you opened your bedroom door to be met with a pair of widened blue eyes already staring at you. “Hi,” said Alessia, a shy smile on her face.

“Morning,” you said dryly, “you’re up early.” You didn’t really want a conversation with her, but at this point, small talk seemed unavoidable. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep anymore,” she replied. You brushed past her to grab your shoes and sat down on the edge of the sofa to tie the laces.

“Hey, Y/N?” She started hesitantly, causing you to look up at her, dreading whatever she was about to ask you. “Do you want some coffee? I just made some.”

“Oh, no thank you. I was just about to go for a walk actually,” you answered, avoiding her gaze by focusing on your shoelaces again. “Oh right, of course,” she said quietly. The discomfort she felt was clear in the way she moved, the tension in the room palpable. You felt your eyes starting to water as your emotions overwhelmed you. The disappointment written on Alessia’s face, the way your body tensed up with every word she said, and the fact that you still had to fight the urge to kiss her right then and there, it was all too much.

“Enjoy your walk,” she said softly as you disappeared into the hallway. You grabbed your coat and keys and finally left the house.

As you were trying your best to fight the tears now brimming your eyelids from falling down your cheeks until you had at least rounded the corner, you heard a different voice calling your name from behind you: Lotte. And she didn’t sound happy. “What are you doing?” Her tone was like a shout but her volume that of a whisper, given how early it was.

“Taking a morning stroll,” you replied quietly without turning around hoping to leave it at that. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about Less. She really wants to talk to you but you’ve been avoiding her, ignoring her. I have no idea what’s going on with you but I can tell this is hurting her, and after all she’s done for you—” she stopped abruptly when you turned around to face her and she noticed the tears now rolling down your face. You saw the hesitation in her eyes. Lotte was not an angry person. In fact, this was the angriest you had ever seen her, so you knew you had really messed up. She scanned your face for a little longer before asking, “Can you please just tell me what’s going on?”

“I— I really can’t, I’m sorry.” You felt an immense sense of guilt wash over you. These past few weeks you had hardly given it any thought how your actions were affecting others. You had decided this was the best thing to do for everyone involved, but of course Alessia did not know that and she had had no say in the matter.

“Okay,” Lotte mumbled hesitantly, “okay, but will you at least talk to her later? You can’t avoid her forever, Y/N,” she stated, and you knew she was right. You took a deep breath before accepting your fate and telling her, “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

You opted to save the talk for after training, giving both of you some time to prepare. Lotte relayed the news to Alessia and assured to spend the night at her boyfriend’s place, granting the two of you some privacy.

You spent your morning trying to figure out how to tell her what was going on, struggling to come up with the right words. The day went by fast and training, albeit awkward and tense, also flew by. Before you knew it, you were back home, bracing for the dreaded conversation.

Alessia seemed unusually uncomfortable, fidgeting with her hands as you walked into the familiar living room in silence. “Tea?” You asked and she nodded as she got settled.

Returning with two cups of tea minutes later, you took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. You sat in silence, both of you playing with your teabags for a while, contemplating how to initiate the conversation.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “I, uh, have been wanting to talk about the other night, you know, at the bar” she began, her words coming out slowly and anxiously. Weeks had gone by since that night, but you had not given her a single chance to talk about it since. “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable or crossed any boundaries.”

You waved off her apology with a small smile. “It’s fine,” you reassured her, not really wanting to think or talk about that night anymore, since you knew it was just a drunken mistake to her, and so much more than that to you. “Just... caught me off guard, is all.”

Alessia’s expression softened, like she somehow knew exactly what you meant by that. She took a deep breath before blurting out three words you had never expected to hear her say.

“Dan is gay,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “His parents are... well, they’re really homophobic.” As she spoke, you could see a mixture of pain and embarrassment etched in her features, the weight of her words heavy on her shoulders.

Your confusion must have shown on your face, prompting Alessia to continue, her words tumbling out in a rush. “And, well, my parents were like yours. They kept asking when I’m going to settle down with a boyfriend,”

As Alessia spoke, the pieces started to fall into place, and you listened intently as she unraveled the complex web of her relationship with Dan. “We were really good friends, Dan and I," she explained, “And we get along well, so we came up with this... arrangement.”

She paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before continuing. “We decided to pretend to be together,” she admitted, pausing again to finally look at you. “To make everyone around us happy.”

“We just get each other so well, you know?” she added, her voice small. “And we already spent so much time together, so it wasn’t hard to pretend.”

You thought about what she said. Somehow, suddenly everything made sense but at the same time nothing did. After a moment of silence, you finally found the words to break through the heaviness in the air. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” you asked, your voice gentle yet curious.

Alessia hesitated for a moment before responding, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I was embarrassed, I guess,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And all I wanted was to focus on my career, so this seemed like an easy way to get everyone to stay off my case too.”

She paused briefly before continuing. “I love the friendship I have with him,” she explained, a hint of sadness in her voice as she looked at you. “And I never really felt the need to be more than friends with anyone anyway, so this has just always felt like it was enough for me. Well, until—” she stopped speaking abruptly, her words trailing off into silence.

“Until what?” you pressed, your curiosity piqued by her sudden pause. But Alessia shook her head, her expression guarded. “Nothing, never mind,” she replied, avoiding your gaze.

The conversation lapsed into silence again, the unanswered question hanging between you like a heavy fog. “Okay… so why are you telling me this now?” you asked, breaking the silence once more, your voice soft.

Alessia shrugged, her eyes flickering up to meet yours. “I don’t know, I guess I felt really bad about lying to you all this time,” she confessed, her voice tinged with regret. “Since we’ve gotten so close. Not many people know. In our team, it’s just Lotte actually. I really value our friendship, Y/N.”

As you sat there, letting everything she had just confessed sink in and trying to make sense of what it all meant, you suddenly noticed how uncomfortable Alessia looked. You quickly scooted over to her side of the sofa, prompting her to look up at you.

Reaching out, you placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, Less,” you said gently, offering her a reassuring smile. “You know you have nothing to be embarrassed about, right? Especially since I did the same thing with you.”

A small laugh escaped her lips, a hint of relief flickering in her eyes. “Guess we’re both experts at this fake relationship thing, huh?” she remarked, the tension in the room easing slightly.

You chuckled softly. “Yeah, now it does make a lot of sense why you came up with the idea in the first place,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Alessia smiled, the embarrassment slowly fading from her features. “Well, it seems to have worked for both of us,” she quipped, her tone lightening.

Taking a sip of her tea, Alessia seemed lost in thought for a moment before meeting your gaze once more. “Thanks, though,” she said sincerely, her eyes softening. “For understanding, and for not judging me.”

You returned her smile with a soft one of your own. “There’s nothing to judge. I think it's really nice of you to do this for Dan,” you added.

Alessia’s smile widened, a touch of warmth in her eyes. “Thanks, Y/N. Means a lot.” She paused, clearly wanting to add something else, her smile fading into a frown. “So… are we okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” you said genuinely. You didn’t exactly know why yet, but somehow you felt a sense of peace about the whole situation after the conversation you had just had.

“Good, I’m glad,” she said, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. “Cause I’ve missed hanging out with you. I was really glad we had become such good friends, and I was afraid I had ruined it all by not being honest.”

“You didn’t,” you reassured her. “I was just a little… confused,” you added, hoping to leave it at that.

She nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I hope this cleared some stuff up then.” She sent you a warm smile. As the conversation wound down, Alessia glanced at the clock, realising the lateness of the hour. “I should probably get going,” she said, rising from the sofa with a small sigh.

You nodded in understanding, standing up as well. “Yeah, no problem,” you replied, walking her to the door. Before she left, Alessia turned to. “Good night,” she whispered with a grateful smile on her face as she pulled you in for a warm hug.

“Good night, Less.”

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