#friends with benifits

[fushiguro-megloomy]

strawberry wine

[part 2] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader prompt: “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you” tags: you're jayces childhood bff, no use of y/n, alcohol, heavy kissing, drunk kissing, basically just a bunch of buildup towards a smutty fwb part two???, viktor being a menace wc: 4k notes: AU where nobody is sick or dying yay! also i think i managed to keep this pretty gn!reader but any future parts will be afab/fem art is from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah & webc00re

You never meant for things to get this far. You told yourself it was just a little fun, harmless and fleeting—nothing more. You had a career to focus on, friendships in the balance. But now, here you are, pacing the living room carpet thin, your cuticles raw from nervous chewing, and your thoughts spiraling into places you swore they’d never go.

It feels juvenile, almost laughable, like some smitten teenager waiting by the phone and sneaking kisses in shadowed corners. You were supposed to be above this, weren’t you? I mean, as a grown adult you should know how to keep it casual, uncomplicated. 

But nothing about this is simple anymore. Not the friendship. Not the secrets. And certainly not the way your heart betrays you every time his name crosses your mind.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Moving back to the city hadn’t been on the bingo card for this year, but here you were. Your life had been tucked away in the quiet of rural landscapes, where your art had room to breathe—endless skies, rolling hills, and the kind of solitude that made inspiration flow without any distractions. But your career had expanded, and with that expansion came the relentless pressure of galleries, art buyers, and a future that demanded more from you than that peaceful escape ever could. 

So, the city had called you back. Concrete towers, crowded streets, the city offered more. Shows. Opportunities. Jayce. The only thing about this cold, steel jungle that still felt like home. Jayce—your childhood friend, your constant in a world that had never stopped changing. Thrown together since you were practically in diapers, he was the one piece of your old life that had somehow survived the years and distance between you two. And now, after what felt like an eternity, here he was, sprawled across your tiny couch, looking too comfortable for someone who was just supposed to be a guest. The apartment was a bit small, as city apartments tended to be—packed between towering neighbors—but Jayce’s presence was the only thing about it that felt remotely like home.

"You know," he said, half-lounging. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You didn’t look up from your canvas, your brush already dipping into the paints like second nature. “Who?”

“Viktor” 

You paused, only long enough for your brush to hover midair before you flicked your gaze in his direction. “Ah, yes. The famous business partner.”

Jayce’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something softer behind it now. “Yeah, something like that. But seriously, he’s a good guy. Brilliant, actually. You two would get along.”

You didn’t reply at first. Instead, you let the brush finish its arc, eyes back on your work, moving with the rhythm of a familiar task. “mhm” you murmured, distracted by the way the strokes of paint were bleeding together. “If he’s anything like you, how bad can it be?”

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. His voice took on that soft  tone he reserved for moments when he really wanted to get his point across. “I’m serious, okay? I want you two to meet. You both mean a lot to me, and I think you’ll really hit it off.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt a weight behind his words, pushing against you with silent pressure. “Yeah? I’m sure it’ll happen, then.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a flash of triumph in them, like he’d just won some small but important battle. “You’ll see. I’m telling you—when you meet him, you’ll click. I know it.”

You leaned back in your chair, releasing a slow exhale, the kind that said everything without saying anything at all. A nonchalant nod was all you offered, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of saying more. “Fine. Fine. I’ll meet him. But don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

Jayce chuckled, and there was an odd note of relief in the sound, like he’d just been granted some unspoken permission. “No big deal, I swear. But you’ll see. You two are more alike than you think.”

-

When you finally did meet Viktor, Jayce was practically vibrating, his energy as unsubtle as ever. It had been after one of your gallery openings, a night you’d half-dragged yourself through on fumes and politeness. Your heels had barely cleared the threshold of his apartment before the faintest twinge of suspicion began to creep in—something about the way he hovered, grinning like a man with a secret.

“You deserve a good meal after tonight,” Jayce had said, ushering you in with the kind of charm that usually preceded one of his schemes. “Thought you’d want to celebrate somewhere that doesn’t reek of overpriced wine and small talk.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be corralled, the promise of food outweighing the odd note in his voice. His large apartment, at least, was familiar territory: warm, cluttered with bits of tech and sentimental junk from years past, the faint scent of whatever candles he refused to admit he hoarded lingering in the air.

And then you heard it—the low murmur of another voice, sharp-edged and vaguely amused, drifting from the kitchen.

Jayce froze, his grin faltering for a split second before it reappeared, brighter than ever. “Oh, right,” he said, far too casually. “Viktor’s here.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. “You conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“Come on,” he pushed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the source of the voice. “It’s no big deal. Just dinner. You’ll like him, I promise.”

And there he was, perched by the kitchen counter with a faintly perplexed look on his face. He was slimmer than you’d expected, pale and sharp-featured, with hair that looked like it hadn’t met a comb in days. His amber eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just been placed in front of him.

“Ah,” he said, his accent lilting and crisp, “so this is the infamous artist.”

You shot a glare at Jayce, who was already heading for the stove with the kind of forced cheer that made it painfully clear he’d orchestrated the whole thing. “You owe me for this,” you muttered under your breath, stepping further into the kitchen.

Viktor’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk appearing. “And here I thought I was being ambushed. Seems we’re both victims of his enthusiasm.”

Jayce turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand, his expression utterly unrepentant. “You’ll thank me later.”

The dinner was simple but undeniably good—Jayce’s doing, of course. The man couldn’t let anyone step into his apartment without insisting they be properly fed, and tonight was no exception. Roast chicken, buttery vegetables with rice, warm bread that filled the space with its yeasty aroma—it was the kind of meal that made you feel at home even when you weren’t.

Conversation flowed easily around the table, mostly carried by Jayce, but Viktor wasn’t exactly quiet, either. He had a way of chiming in at just the right moment, his dry humor landing squarely between Jayce’s more exuberant anecdotes and your own occasional contributions.

“You mean to tell me,” Viktor said at one point, leaning back slightly in his chair, “that Jayce still hasn’t learned to cook rice without burning it? After all these years?”

Jayce, halfway through explaining some disastrous culinary attempt from his youth, turned to glare at him. “Excuse me, this rice was cooked perfectly.”

“It was fine,” you agreed, though the memory of a slightly crunchy bite or two made your lips twitch in amusement.

Viktor’s amber eyes sparkled as he gestured broadly. “Oh, fine! A glowing review, truly. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Jayce groaned, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here I am. Invited to dinner. Again.”

Jayce just rolled his eyes and went back to his story, leaving you to glance at Viktor with a small smile. He caught it, of course, and gave a little shrug as if to say, what can you do? For all his sharp humor, he was easy to talk to, his wit balanced by an underlying warmth that kept him from coming off as too cutting.

Which was why you were only mildly surprised when the spoon incident happened.

Dinner was winding down, Jayce had disappeared into the kitchen to fuss over coffee, leaving you and Viktor to handle the cleanup.

He moved with a surprising ease, balancing a stack of plates in one hand, his cane steady in the other. It was a casual sort of competence, as though he’d long since adapted to whatever limitations life had handed him. You hadn’t thought much of it, impressed by how naturally he maneuvered, until the soft clatter of a spoon hitting the floor broke the quiet rhythm of tidying.

“Ah,” Viktor said, glancing down at the rogue utensil with a faint frown as he set down the plate stack. “Of course.”

You paused mid-step, glancing between him and the spoon. “Need a hand?”

He tilted his head, his expression a little too innocent. “If it’s not too much trouble. You know, the leg and all...”

“Oh, for—” Jayce’s voice floated from the kitchen, half-annoyed but not quite committed to intervening.

You sighed, setting down the napkins you’d been folding. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got it.”

But just as you crouched down, Viktor shifted. A casual tap of his cane sent the spoon skittering across the floor, its metallic clink faintly echoing as it landed farther away.

You froze, staring at the spoon in disbelief, then turned your gaze to him slowly. “You’re kidding.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. “What?”

“You just—”

“What?” he repeated, wider-eyed this time, his free hand gesturing vaguely toward his cane. “I’m handicapped.”

Jayce reappeared in the doorway, a coffee pot in hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face. “Viktor.”

“What?” Viktor said again, his voice laced with mock indignation. “I am!”

Jayce muttered something unintelligible as he poured coffee, his focus shifting between you and Viktor like he couldn’t decide which one of you deserved his scolding more. Meanwhile, you straightened, crossing your arms as a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you said, stepping across the room to retrieve the spoon—again.

“Very generous,” Viktor agreed, his tone breezy. “Honestly, it’s quite inspiring. Jayce, you should take notes.”

Jayce groaned, setting the coffee pot down with a little too much force. “You’re both ridiculous.”

But you were already laughing, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. As you returned the spoon to the table with a pointed look, Viktor gave you a small, almost triumphant smile. And maybe, you could see what Jayce meant when he’d said you’d get along.

-

The first time you realized you might feel more than just friendship for Viktor was when you noticed the way your sketches had started to change.

It had been weeks—maybe even a couple of months—since that dinner with Jayce, when you had awkwardly danced around each other, getting to know one another. The initial weirdness had faded into easy companionship, and you found yourself spending more time with Viktor than you expected. You hadn’t quite noticed it happening, but somewhere along the line, you’d become an unintentional trio. Jayce had been bursting with barely-contained glee at how easily the two of you seemed to get along, and it made your chest warm, knowing how much that mattered to him. It felt... right, this newfound ease between the three of you, a quiet sort of harmony that made you smile more than you expected.

But as the days passed, something shifted without you realizing it. You were at home one evening, flipping through your sketchbook, the soft pastel dust smudging the edges of the pages as your fingers moved. The forms you’d drawn were abstract models, capturing shapes and shadows in a fluid, organic way. It wasn’t anything new—nothing that stood out. But then, you stopped.

There, in the shadows of the page, you saw it.

The subtle arch of a jawline. The curve of lips that you knew too well. Even the moles, small and almost unremarkable, but there they were—on the page, right beneath your fingertips. You blinked and flipped to another sketch, only to see it again. A line here, a shadow there. It wasn’t him exactly, but it was.

To the untrained eye, maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious. Hell, maybe even to you on any other day, it might’ve gone unnoticed. But now, in the quiet of your studio, the shapes were almost unmistakable. The soft angle of his nose, the way his eyes looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his smile would pull up on one side when he was being particularly smug.

You frowned, setting the sketchbook down, your hands hovering above it as if it had betrayed you. Was this some kind of coincidence? Or was it something more, something you had been avoiding realizing? You’d never consciously set out to draw him, but there he was, tucked into the lines and curves of your art like an uninvited guest you hadn’t known you were entertaining.

It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Of course it was just... coincidence. But even as you tried to convince yourself, there was a small, unspoken truth sitting in your chest, heavy and undeniable, and the first time you realized Viktor might see you as more than just a friend was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit you all the same.

He mentioned a piece you’d shown him, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve been doing something different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a change. It’s...” His gaze flickered to yours, then dropped back to the floor, but the brief flash in his eyes sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “...more. More than what you usually show.”

The words themselves were harmless, even complimentary, but it was the way they hung between you that made something inside you stir—something you couldn’t name, not yet. You didn’t think much of it at first, but the way his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary made your breath catch. The way the corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, not teasing, but... fond.

It was a simple thing. A fleeting moment. And yet, it lingered in your mind as you retreated to your apartment, your thoughts whirling with the possibility that Viktor—your friend, the one you had so casually laughed and bantered with for months—might be seeing you differently, too.

The shift was subtle, but it was there. And it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

-

Everything came to a boiling point one night at your apartment. You’d ventured into town earlier that day, mostly for a change of scenery, and happened upon a small farmers market. You couldn’t resist grabbing a few bottles of strawberry wine, its sweetness and fruity undertones practically calling your name. Jayce had scoffed at it when you got back, claiming it was too sugary to have any real punch. “There’s no way I’ll even get drunk off this,” he’d muttered with a dismissive wave.

An hour later, he was sprawled out on your pullout, snoring softly with a stupid grin plastered across his face. You and Viktor stood nearby, both trying—and failing—to suppress your amusement at how quickly Jayce had succumbed to the wine’s effects. For all his size, Jayce was a surprising lightweight.

“I swear, every time,” you said, laughing quietly.

Viktor, leaning against the doorway, gave a soft chuckle. “Some people just don’t know when to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the slumbering man. “Guess we let him sleep it off.”

“Let him have his beauty rest,” Viktor teased, his voice light as he nodded toward the bottles. “We can always finish it ourselves.”

So you did, winding up on the roof with the cold night air around you. The worn-out couch up there had seen better days, but it was still enough to settle into and talk, a simple quiet comfort settling over you both. The soft glow of string lights and the silvered moonlight made the world feel like it was wrapped in a quiet hush despite the never ending sounds of the city. You both settled into the couch, the cushions sinking in the middle, which pushed you just a little closer to Viktor than you'd anticipated.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was easy, like you had spent years in it. You noticed how close you were sitting now—your thighs pressed together, and when you passed the bottle of wine, your fingers brushed his. A small spark of awareness ran through you each time, and you tried to ignore it, feeling your face warm despite the cool air.

The wine was sweet, fruity, and a little stronger than you expected, especially when you found yourself reaching for another sip and another, the soft buzz in your head gradually growing stronger.

By the time the bottle was halfway gone, you were both leaning more heavily into the couch, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how little wine was apparently needed to bring Jayce to the brink of passing out. You felt... lighter. Almost giddy, as if the laughter that came so easily was spilling out along with the alcohol. And Viktor, sitting just beside you, didn’t seem to be immune to it either. His face was flushed in the soft light, his lips curling into an easy smile.

“You know,” you said, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the couch soak into your bones, “I don’t do this enough. I’m so... wrapped up in work and life and... I just forget to relax.”

Viktor tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched you. “Relaxing can be overrated,” he said with a smirk, the words a little slower than they’d been earlier. He took another drink from the bottle, his thumb brushing against the glass in an unconscious rhythm. When he passed it to you, your fingers brushed once again, and you lingered just a bit longer than necessary.

“Well, maybe for you,” you chuckled. “But, for me, it’s like... it's like a luxury, I guess. You know? I don’t remember the last time I just sat with someone and... and didn’t feel like I had to be somewhere or do something.”

“You eh–... don’t have to worry about that here,” Viktor said quietly, his voice light, with that usual teasing edge. But something was different in his tone, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air seemed to shift, the quiet between you stretching into something almost… charged.

You took another sip, your hand a little unsteady now. The whole situation felt absurd—awkward, even, yet strangely intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Your gaze drifted toward his lips without thinking. It was brief, but enough to send a flutter through your stomach, and suddenly, your mind couldn’t focus on anything but that soft, confident curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else entirely, but you couldn’t seem to think straight anymore.

Viktor shifted closer again, and the couch beneath you groaned as it sank with the weight of it. The space between you closed, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours shoulder to shoulder, like the alcohol spreading through you, making your pulse quicken.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His presence was a solid thing beside you. His eyes were locked on yours, studying, but still so calm. You could feel the punch of his gaze on you, like it was seeping through your skin, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasn’t just the wine now—you could feel it all over, heat blooming beneath your skin, making you fidget slightly.

“Sometimes… you get caught up in what you’re doing, and you forget about everything else,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your nerves were tightening your chest. “I’ve been focused on my career and—god, I’ve probably been a little… I don’t know, closed off.” You laughed lightly, but it was nervous, unsure of where this was even coming from. But suddenly all your senses were barraged by him, his smell, his eyes.

“I just—I haven’t thought about it. Relationships, I mean. Not in a long time. I don’t know if I’m even ready for anything like that. Not now, not with everything I’m doing.” You trailed off, self-conscious, suddenly feeling like you were saying too much, rambling without stopping. The words seemed to just slip out of you, tumbling over each other.

You took another shaky breath, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to make yourself stop, but you couldn’t. It was like you were helpless.

“And, I mean, if anybody were to kiss me…” You faltered, realizing too late just how much you were giving away. Your pulse quickened, your thoughts jumbled as your mouth just kept moving. “I would want that person to be you.”

The air between you thickened, the silence stretching long and heavy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous rhythm that drowned out everything else. You waited for him to say something, to break the tension that was suffocating you. But there was nothing. Just the weight of his gaze on you, steady and searching.

When you finally dared to glance at him Viktor's expression was unreadable. One thick eyebrow was cocked slightly, and his mouth hung open just enough to suggest he was about to say something, but didn't. He was so close but somehow the distance between you felt infinite.

You opened your mouth to say something, to fill the silence, but before you could speak, his hand moved, his fingers brushing against your jaw in the gentlest touch. The sudden warmth of his palm made your breath catch, and before you could even fully process it, he was pulling you in. His lips met yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters, as if the moment itself was delicate. But that softness didn't last, between the buzz of alcohol, the closeness, the heat between you—it all blurred together. The kiss deepened, quickly turning urgent, hungry. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the bottle slipped from your grasp, its clang against the concrete floor echoing in the quiet of the rooftop

You didn't care. You were too lost in the feeling of him against you, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of need. The kiss grew messier– clumsy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. You could taste the faint sweetness of wine on him, the mix of flavors making everything feel dizzying overwhelming.

You found yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge your bodies together, desperate for the contact, for whatever it was that had been building between you two for so long. 

-

The next day was a harsh slap of hangover reality. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and every time you glanced at Viktor across the room, your stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.

Jayce, of course, was none the wiser. He chatted away over breakfast like nothing had changed, blissfully unaware of the shift that had unraveled everything you thought you’d had under control. And you? You were wholly committed to keeping it that way. It was a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fleeting, drunken thing—something you could both quietly bury and move on from.

At least, that was the plan.

Until it happened again. And then again.

Now it feels like a thread being pulled tighter and tighter, until you’re not sure if you’re going to unravel completely or snap under the weight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But here you are. And you don’t know how to stop.

©lilsworks 2024

[miss-cincaide]

The pink, the blue or the red 

Summary: You can’t decide on a piece of lingerie for your upcoming date. So what do you do? Ask your best friend for help of course. After all you don't think he'll care. And you especially don't expect this to be the beginning of your 'friends with benifits' situation..  

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Megumi Fushuguro (aged up!) Kinktober prompt 2: Lingerie  WC ~1.7K. Warnings: Unprotected sex (P in V), pulling out, cum, light dirty talk, becoming friends with benefits, 

“ I can’t decide!” You huffed from the cracked opened door to your bedroom. Your back pressed against the door, your face angled through the crack and stared down at Megumi sitting cross-legged on your couch, the bunch of homework and course books spread out all over your coffee table. “I don’t know if the blue one is better than the red one, but the red one feels too desperate so maybe the pink one?” 

There was an unmistakable pause, a silence then, an “Are you asking me to look at your underwear before your date?” Megumi’s tone held a hint of disbelief in it and you couldn’t help yourself by correcting his choice of words: “Lingerie.”

It didn’t help; Megumi sighed in exasperation. 

The kind of sound that clearly said you were acting stupid for one, and two, he was about to group you in the same category as Itadori. “ I don’t know. Ask Nobara” 

You let out a low whine, a quiet stomp of your foot against the carpeted floor “ I did. And Nobara said that ‘guys only care about tits and a hole’ so it didn’t matter which one. Then I asked Yuji and it became a whole discussion about why I should care about the color of my lingerie if it’s anyway covered by clothes and IF things go that way, it will most probably be dark so the color won’t matter anyway.”

You heard Megumi mutter something under his breath and proceeded to amp up the begging with your most pitiful puppy dog voice “Please ‘Gumi. You’re my only hope for honest to god feedback.” 

Another long pause, you were about to start bribing him, before he sighed and dropped back against the couch. “Fine.” 

Megumi didn’t sound happy, but you didn’t care as you let out a glee of joy and stepped out of your bedroom. A silky kimono with lace details which matched the lingerie set, thrown over and tied up on your hip, showing off just the very edge of the matching set underneath. 

“So I thought of something like this” You stood in front of Megumi and did a little twirl showing off the kimono that followed the line of your body. Megumi remained frustratingly impassive, his every expression carefully schooled. He wasn’t giving you anything; did he like it? Hate it? Find this bothersome? Find you bothersome? “Come on, Gumi say something” 

“You’re planning to go out to a bar like that?” His eyes ran you up and down, followed the outline of the kimono and then flickered back up to your face, his eyes never lingered. “Doubt it. Stuffing it in a bag to take with will make it look wrinkly and cheap.”  

“It wasn’t cheap” you pouted, then as the penny dropped you realized it was your cue to take it off. Seduce him if you will. You moved to undo the belt, your fingers scrambled to untie the death-knot on your hip. You hadn’t actually thought things would go this far. 

“And that’s another issue,” Megumi pointed out. You could practically hear how he rolled  his eyes. “ When are you going to learn how to tie things up in a single bow?” 

“ But they untie themselves!” 

“That’s what you want from them. Especially in this situation.” 

You didn’t bother to reply, banter-scolding a familiar routine at this point. You’d say there was nothing less sexy than to have to stop and retie the bow, Megumi would point out that at the speed you were going, you’d be ancient by the time you got it untied. “Aha!” you grinned before he could say another word as your nail finally caught the inner loop and you slowly tugged the silky belt free. 

The kimono soon followed, first opened up, then slid off your shoulders to the floor. All you were left in was a half-sheer dark blue set embezzled with small white gems. The bra worked hard to push your girls up, the lace which started just above your nipples giving a small hint of modesty. The lacy skimpy Brazilians did the opposite. 

“What do you think?” You asked, then did a slow twirl to show it off from every angle. When you turned back around to face Megumi, his eyes were firmly planted on the floor at your feet. You bit back the twitch of disappointment in your heart. 

“It looks good.” His voice sounded tense like he uttered it through gritted teeth. 

“You’re not even looking!” You moved to stand closer to him, hearing the unmistakable hitch of breath. “Does it look bad? It looks bad, right? Tell me truly and honestly so I know” 

“You want a true and honest opinion?” You nodded quickly. Megumi didn’t look up at you as he slowly moved to stand up off the couch. He was close, towered over you, definitely aware of you. You smiled a little to yourself and began doing another demonstrative twirl. He stopped you halfway with a firm grip on your arm. “You wanna know what I think? I think you’re doing this on purpose.” 

You gasped as he pushed you forward, and bent you over, your stomach made contact with the side of the couch, one hand braced over the back, the other caught yourself on the armrest.

“I think you’re doing this to rile me up and it’s working” Megumi pushed his hips forward, flush against the soft curve of your ass. His cock was unmistakably hard in his pants. He rolled his hips, and made you feel every inch of him. 

Big. Hard. Needy.    

You trembled. A pathetic whimper left you. 

“You don’t really care about those dates or men. We both know you’re going to go there, have a few drinks, then run away when things get serious.” Another roll of his hips, this time sliding himself between your ass cheeks. “ If you want something, be a big girl and say it.” 

“Don’t stop” you whimpered moving your hips in line with his. He does exactly as you asked, but not a touch more. You're ground against him, desperate for more friction, more touch, more of that delicious cock which so perfectly ground against you, scratching you with the lace of your panties and the shift of his jeans. Outlined but hidden, leaving the rest to imagination. Fuck it was torture. “Or.. you know… keep going, just don’t stop” 

Megumi took a step back from you. “On the couch. Now.” 

You scramble to shift your body over the armrest and into one of the soft cushions. Back against the couch, soles of your feet on the edge of the pillow, knees loosely to your chest. Megumi joins you a moment later, pushing up your knees closer and out of the way. He didn’t bother slipping your panties off, just pushed the damp skimpy thing to the side before thrusting right in. 

“Ah-heh..mm, What about foreplay?” Your hands wrap around his neck keeping him close and steady, there to see his every expression, so close you can hear him swallow, groan and curse as your pussy took him. 

“What about it?” Megumi raises an eyebrow, his hand reached out and brushed a sweat drop off your face. Then trailed trails down your neck, lingered at your bouncing tits then lower, down to your clit. “You’re saying you can be wetter than this?” 

 His fingers touch you; you moan, arching you back. Closer, away, you don’t know anymore. You feel him push your legs even closer to your chest, his thrusts growing rapidly. You realized he was bullying you; with his words, with his fingers and with his fucking cock that felt ten times better than you could have ever imagined. “Y-you’re mean, Megumi” 

“Am I now?” He picked up his pace, rolled his hips and you were coming, dripping, soaking him wet. You were moaning, gasping, cursing or was it him? Another scream and he was gone. Your pussy clenched over nothing.

 Empty.

 You’re whined, your hips thrusting empty air in desperation.

 “Fuckkk”  He was coming, gasping, painting your stomach and tits white with the hot thick cum. 

His sweaty head dropped down to your shoulder, and your nails let go of his back. 

The reality came crashing down on you like a sobering weight; You just had sex with Megumi.  You just fucked your best friend. And you didn't know what it meant, were you now migrating to friends-with-benifits? Something more? Something-

“Did.. did Yuji see the lingerie?” There was an unmistakable twitch of jealousy in his voice and a tone that demanded an honest answer out of you. 

You didn't quite know how to interpret it. You answered him either way. “Kinda? I showed him the pictures of them but not on me”

Megumi growled, his hand on your knee tightened slightly before he let you go. He moved off you, flopping down onto the couch beside you. “Then I need to see the other two before I can give you my honest opinion” 

Your face flushed, your brain short circuited. Your body moved seemingly on its own, awkwardly scrambled out of the couch and with shaky legs began carrying you back to your room. 

If this was what happened with the most innocent, blue set, you couldn't wait until he laid his eyes on the lacy pink one, or barely there red one…

Author note: I have to say I am not sure how I feel about this fic. I love the Megumi in this and I do kinda wanna write more Friends-With-Benifits scenarios. What do you think? Anything you'd wanna read?

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All fics are unique works by © miss-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[beautifulpeoplearoundtheworld]

[questioningmyexistence432]

'ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴɪɴɢ.'

warnings - could be taken as slightly toxic - nothing too bad. heavily implied gunplay. already established fwb relationship.

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

there was no misunderstanding it - toji had this idea in mind before you even let him into your apartment today. the sly look in his eyes had all but confirmed it as he leisurely strolled into your apartment and sat himself down on the couch. planting his feet on the wooden floor as he spread his legs. he got himself comfortable and took his time in doing so. 

“c’mere.” he demanded - patting his inner thigh as he beckoned you over to his large form. truly, he looked like a bull in a china shop in your cramped apartment. not that you were worried about that, not at all - you called toji for one reason and one reason only. you followed his lead - he’d ’conditioned’ you properly alright. follow his lead and you get what you want. but, toji could be downright cruel when you decide to catch an attitude with him. 

“gon’ try something different today with my dirty little slut.” his voice came out gruff as you finally perched yourself on his thigh - his pants providing your unclothed cunt with a small amount of friction that had you biting your lip in anticipation for the main event. you had learned early on that wearing any panties was a dangerous game if you liked the pair. nodding your head weakly until something caught your eye - the glint of the weapon in toji’s hand. how had you missed him pulling that out? now frozen in terror as he clicked his tongue in displeasure after watching your reaction carefully. 

bringing the gun to your cheek in an awful attempt at soothing your worries - toji didn’t look nor sound all that worried though. not with a smirk on his scarred lip as he muttered out. “none of tha’ worryin’ now. gonna fuck you stupid on my cock later.” he reassured you with his vulgar wording. he started speaking again but this time you couldn’t help your own growing curiosity about the situation. would it feel good? would you lose yourself in pleasure just like you did when it was toji’s cock rearranging your insides. “but i wanna watch you cream yourself on my gun first. wanna see just how dirty my girl is.”

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word count - 367

[im-not-a-l0ser]

I'm just imagining a version of the summoning where wiggly pulls back Pete’s hair and the only difference is just there's a massive hickey there.

[hunzzzzz]

Tell me sweet little lies: part 6

Summary: During a tense weekend in the Hamptons, Diane's pursuit of a story involving Kendall Roy takes a turn. Diane's journalistic detachment wavers, replaced by growing empathy. The escalating emotions of the weekend threaten to overwhelm her.

TW: smut on the beach, face sitting, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation

A/N: oooohh Kendall is so baby girl, I just want to give him a big hug

🦋🐟��🐠🧢🐳🩵👕🖌️🛋️🫂🎽🐋💦🌊💧🧊🪼🫐

Kendall watched Diane shift restlessly beside him, the moonlight from the window painting her face in stark contrasts of light and shadow. "Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Nope," she yawned, her eyes wide and dark. "You?"

He turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Same here. Just… a lot on my mind."

Diane turned to face him, her brow furrowed slightly. "What is it?"

He sighed, a sound heavy with the weight of years. "Oh, you know. Just ever shitty thing that's happened since I can remember."

Diane's lips curved into a small, sympathetic smile. "Yeah, like what?"

"Like the time when I was 7, I got a dog for my birthday. A little golden retriever puppy I named Scout. I was obsessed with him. He was my best friend, the only thing in my life that felt genuinely mine, unconditionally loving. One afternoon, I was walking him in the park, and I let him off the leash for just a second. He ran off, chasing a squirrel. I searched for hours, called his name until my voice was hoarse. I never found him. My parents didn't care. They just said, 'It's just a dog,' and got me a new one a few weeks later— but it wasn’t the same. Nothing could ever replace Scout; he was precious."

"Or sparring with my dad… he used to make me box with him, at the ripe age of, what, 10? 11? He’d put on these old, worn-out gloves, and tell me to ‘toughen up.’ He wouldn’t hold back. Not really. He’d hit me hard enough to bruise, sometimes. One time, he knocked me down, and I remember just lying there on the floor, staring up at him. He just stood over me, saying ‘You're not hurt. Get up.’ It wasn’t about teaching me to defend myself. It was about… proving something. To himself, I guess. That he was strong. That I was weak. That I was his to break." He ran a hand through his hair, a flicker of pain crossing his features. 

Diane's eyes widened, a genuine sympathy in their depths. "Oh Kendall, that's… awful."

A bitter chuckle escaped Kendall's lips. "Oh, and how could I ever forget the custody battle… they lined us up, me, Shiv, and Rome, and picked us, one by one, like we were being auctioned off. I was the last one left. The 'leftover.' My mom was so mortified—more by the optics, I think, than by my actual feelings—that she renegotiated the whole thing just to avoid taking me." He shook his head, the memory still sharp after all these years.

“I’m sorry, Kendall.” Diane whispered.

"That's just the tip of the iceberg," he said, his voice flat, almost devoid of emotion. "When I was thirteen, my first girlfriend admitted she only dated me to climb the social ladder. Dumped me the second she realized I wasn't going to get her into the 'in' crowd. It wasn't even personal, really. I was just a means to an end." He shrugged, but the gesture didn't quite mask the lingering hurt. 

"And then, a few years later, my grandfather, who was like a father to me—the only father I ever truly knew—got sick. I spent months visiting him in the hospital, watching him fade away. The day he died, I was supposed to give a presentation in class. I went anyway, thinking I could compartmentalize. I got halfway through, broke down in front of everyone, and ran out of the room. I never finished the presentation. I never even went back to that class."

"But you learned from it, right?" Diane said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. Her fingers were cool against his skin. “You wouldn’t be who you are today if you didn’t get such tough skin from all of that, right?”

Kendall gave a wry, humorless smile. "I learned that some people are users. I learned that even hard work can lead to disaster. I learned that grief can hit you at the most inconvenient times. I learned that my own father saw me as something to conquer, not to nurture. And that sometimes, even your own mother can’t bear to look at you. I don't think a kid needs to learn all that. I should have been worried about algebra, not social manipulation and the casual cruelty of the people who were supposed to protect me." He looked at Diane, his eyes searching, pleading for understanding. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"No," she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I like listening to you." She pulled her hand back, tucking it under the covers. In the dim light, Kendall couldn't see the way her fingers were twisting the fabric of the sheet.

"What about you?" he asked gently. "What's keeping you up?"

Diane hesitated, her heart pounding against her ribs. The image of the box, the tape, the crimson stain on the rough cloth, the file , flashed through her mind. I killed him. It was an accident. The words echoed in her head, a chilling mantra. She swallowed hard, forcing them back down. She glanced at Kendall, at the genuine concern in his eyes, and a wave of guilt washed over her.

"Just… a light sleeper." she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. She pulled the covers up to her chin, as if trying to shield herself from his questions. It wasn't a lie, not entirely, but the truth was buried beneath layers of fear and desperation.

"Oh, shit my bad. I’m sorry for waking you, I uh, I sometimes get night terrors.” He muttered an apology, feeling guilty. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “I was just worried about you.”

“Don't let me keep you up. You need your precious beauty sleep.” He gently brushed her hair away from her forehead, his touch lingering.

When Kendall looked at Diane, a feeling bloomed in his chest, unfamiliar and potent. Was it love? A terrifying, exhilarating possibility. He’d never known it, not from Logan Roy, a man whose billions couldn’t buy him an ounce of paternal warmth. Logan’s affection was transactional, reserved for business deals and power plays, never for his children. 

And his mother, Caroline… Caroline was a ghost in his life, a beautiful, brittle creature more concerned with her social standing than her offspring. She’d never breastfed her children, couldn't be bothered with the messy, intimate act of nurturing. From the moment they were born, they were handed off to a rotating cast of nannies and maids, their cries and needs a mere inconvenience to her perfectly manicured existence.

He’d spent his life chasing his parents’ approval, believing achievement would unlock their love. He’d excelled in school, captained the lacrosse team, pursued every venture his father suggested, hoping to finally earn a flicker of recognition, a word of praise. But their indifference had become a constant hum in the background of his life, a confirmation of his inherent unworthiness. Their eyes, when they did fall on him, held a chilling emptiness, as if they were looking through him, not at him. After the divorce, Caroline had all but vanished, choosing to settle for sprawling estates and lucrative investments rather than fight for custody. Land and property held more value to her than her own children. It was a stark, brutal message: they were disposable.

Even his marriage to Rava, a logical, expected step, had lacked a spark. It was a union born of societal pressure and a desperate attempt to create a semblance of normalcy, not love. Fatherhood, too, had failed to fill the void, overshadowed by Logan’s dismissive attitude towards his grandchildren, treating them as pawns in his ongoing power games.

Then there was Diane. At first, a welcome distraction, a brief respite from the crushing weight of his family’s legacy. Now… something more. She didn’t demand perfection or offer conditional acceptance like his family. Their shared experiences of childhood pain, though different in their specifics, resonated deeply. They understood the unspoken language of neglect, the constant ache of feeling unseen. Unlike Rava, who tried to mold him into a version of himself she found acceptable, Diane simply listened . She saw him, the real him, with all his flaws and insecurities. With Rava, he’d always worn a mask, playing the role of the successful husband and father, a performance he could never quite perfect, especially with his father’s critical gaze always in his mind.

Diane had found him in the depths of despair. The night they met, he was a wreck, a monument to self-destruction, lost in a haze of expensive whiskey, crushed pills, and a self-loathing that gnawed at him from the inside out. He’d been on the verge of oblivion, teetering on the precipice of something dark and irreversible. But instead of recoiling like everyone else—the concerned glances that quickly turned to averted eyes, the hushed whispers of “poor Kendall,” the thinly veiled disgust—she’d offered a brief respite from his agony. 

And it wasn't just that one night. It was the weeks that followed, the slow, agonizing unraveling of Vaulter, the public humiliation, the feeling of utter failure that threatened to consume him. He’d expected her to disappear, to join the chorus of disappointed voices, to add her name to the long list of people who had abandoned him. But she didn't. When he was down in the dumps, curled up in the fetal position on his couch, reeking of stale liquor and despair, she stayed. She didn't try to fix him, didn't offer empty platitudes or unsolicited advice. She simply sat with him, a silent presence in his storm. She offered comfort in small gestures: a hand on his shoulder, a gentle stroke of his hair, a massage; her touch was a welcome distraction—only she could make him feel good..

He’d never known such kindness, such unwavering acceptance. His past relationships had been built on performance, on the expectation that he would always be the strong one, the successful one, the one who had it all together. With Diane, there were no expectations, no masks to maintain. He could be his broken, flawed self, and she wouldn't flinch.

Kendall was falling in love, a sensation entirely new to him, a terrifying and exhilarating freefall. He’d never known such a profound connection, such a deep and abiding affection. The love he’d witnessed had always been conditional, transactional, a tool for manipulation or a means to an end. He’d always doubted his capacity for love, his worthiness of it, convinced that he was incapable of giving or receiving such a pure and vulnerable emotion. Yet, here he was, feeling it for the first time.

And he would do anything to keep this woman in his life. The feeling he felt was aggressive and fraught— he wanted her with panic and passion. 

————————————————————————-

Kendall woke up in the predawn hours, sleep eluding him. He watched Diane, her peaceful form curled away from him. A surge of affection washed over him, and he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Soon, he was lulled back to sleep by the warmth of her body.

The first slivers of dawn pierced the curtains, painting the room in shades of grey. Diane stirred, her eyes snapping open. She was trapped, a prisoner in Kendall’s suffocating embrace. His grip was a vise. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, a low rumble against her ear.

“Let me up,” she said, a tremor in her voice as she tried to subtly pry his fingers loose.

“You’re so warm,” he protested, his hold tightening, a possessive edge creeping into his tone. “What’s the rush?”

Panic flared in Diane’s chest. Under her pillow, hidden from view, lay the box– the box containing the evidence. She had to move it, now. Before he saw. “I just… I like to start my day early,” she stammered, forcing a lightness into her voice, desperately trying to coax him out of bed, away from the pillow.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned, pulling her even closer, his breath hot on her neck.

“You’re such a diva,” she teased, a brittle laugh escaping her lips. Inside, her mind raced, calculating, strategizing. The seconds ticked by like hammer blows.

Kendall held her captive for what felt like an eternity, a suffocating closeness that made her skin crawl. Finally, with a sigh of exaggerated reluctance, he relented, but only after she promised him a “special present” and whispered promises of making him “feel good” after his shower – a promise that tasted like ash in her mouth.

The moment he was out of sight, the bathroom door clicking shut, Diane lunged for the pillow. Her fingers closed around the box, cold and hard in her trembling hand. She shoved it deep into her bag. A wave of nausea washed over her. This trip. This charade. It was all about uncovering the truth behind the cruise scandal, a truth buried deep beneath layers of lies and deceit. The stakes were higher than she’d ever imagined. This information was crucial, not just for her article, but for something much bigger. She took a shaky breath, steeling her resolve. No matter the cost.

When Kendall emerged, freshly showered and radiating an oblivious charm, Diane was already in the kitchen, forcing herself to appear calm and collected.

“I was promised a reward?” Kendall announced, a playful grin spreading across his face. 

“Yes, you were,” Diane replied, a smirk playing on her lips. She slid a mug of steaming coffee towards him across the counter. “I made you coffee.” Of course, she knew he was expecting something more than coffee.

“You played me,” he pouted, his playful tone not quite masking a hint of disappointment.

“I never specified anything,” she giggled, her tone light and teasing.

“Maybe you just need some energy,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with a playful light. He took a sip of the coffee, then set the mug down with a decisive clink. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

It was the last thing she wanted. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to flee, to return home with the file and the box, to dissect every piece of evidence, to finally break this story wide open. The need for a breakthrough was a burning obsession. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She forced a smile, a mask of compliance. 

“Sure,” she agreed, her voice light and airy. She knew she had to play along, at least for now.

—————————————————————————

“Where are we going?” Diane asked, watching the blossoming trees blur past the window. She rolled it down, welcoming the spring breeze that tousled her hair, a fleeting moment of normalcy in the tense undercurrent between them.

Breakfast had been a strained affair. Kendall, clearly exhausted from a restless night, yawned incessantly, a stark contrast to his usual vibrant self. He pushed through it, though, his gaze fixed on Diane, as if her mere presence could ward off his fatigue. Spending time with her was paramount.

“It’s a surprise,” Kendall said, glancing at her, a look of almost unsettling adoration in his eyes. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, a flicker of suspicion igniting within her.

“Well,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “your horoscope said you were going to have a day full of nostalgia and adventures. It said you’d spend it with a special someone.” He winked, the gesture feeling strangely heavy.

“Bullshit,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re winding me up. Ha ha.” The laugh felt forced, brittle.

“I’m not,” he insisted earnestly. “That’s what it said on Elle, swear on my life.”

“But you don’t even believe in that stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes, trying to decipher if this was some elaborate joke, or something far more unsettling.

“Yeah, but you do, so it doesn’t matter what I think,” he replied, taking her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, resting their joined hands in her lap. The casual intimacy felt like a violation.

“You’re creeping me out now, seriously,” she rolled her eyes. “What is this secret location you’re taking me to?” 

The unease wasn’t just about the mystery destination. It was about his sudden, intense focus on her, the way he seemed to be cataloging her every like and dislike. It was a dangerous game he was playing, a slippery slope that would inevitably lead to probing questions, intimate inquiries that she couldn’t afford.

Diane was always on edge around Kendall, a constant state of vigilance. She could never let her guard down, every word carefully weighed, every action meticulously planned. The risk of her cover being blown was a constant, suffocating pressure. The strain was taking its toll, a stark contrast to the easy comfort Kendall seemed to radiate in her presence. He was free, open, while she was trapped in a cage of her own making.

“Relax, you’re so tense,” he said, squeezing her hand again, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Mhmm,” Diane mumbled, offering a weak, uneasy smile.

Finally, Kendall parked the car. He climbed out, then rounded the vehicle, opening Diane’s door, offering his hand to help her out. As the building came into view, her breath caught in her throat. It was an aquarium. A genuine smile touched her lips.

“I know your Pisces quirks,” he smirked, a smug satisfaction in his voice, pulling her towards the entrance. “You love water.” The casual observation, the way he’d filed away this small detail about her, sent another wave of unease through her. This wasn’t just a date. It was something else. Something she couldn’t quite define, but it felt like a trap closing around her.

The aquarium was a kaleidoscope of blues and greens, a mesmerizing underwater world teeming with life. Diane was captivated. Schools of shimmering fish darted past coral reefs, rays glided effortlessly through the water, and majestic sharks patrolled their domain. For a brief, precious moment, she forgot about the box, the lies, the constant vigilance. She was simply Diane, a woman enjoying the wonders of the ocean.

They watched playful sea otters tumble over each other, their sleek bodies twirling in the water. They stood mesmerized by the graceful ballet of jellyfish, their translucent forms pulsating with an ethereal glow. They even braved the touch tank, Diane hesitantly reaching out to stroke the rough skin of a starfish. Laughter bubbled up from her, genuine and unrestrained, a sound Kendall drank in like a man parched in a desert.

But the idyllic atmosphere began to shift as Kendall’s curiosity, previously charming, turned into something more intense. He started asking questions, probing beneath the surface, wanting to know the real Diane, the woman hidden behind the carefully constructed façade.

“What’s your favorite exhibit so far?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her, searching.

“Probably the beluga whales,” she replied, her gaze still on the massive white creatures swimming in their tank. “They’re so intelligent.”

“Like you,” he murmured, then, more pointedly, “So uh, what do you do for fun? You love the water, I know that much, but what else?”

The question hung in the air, the lightheartedness of the moment dissipating. Diane hesitated. “I… I don’t really have much time for fun,” she said, a half-truth slipping past her lips. “Work keeps me pretty busy.”

“You’re always working,” he observed, a hint of concern in his voice. “Don’t you have any friends? People you hang out with?”

“Not really,” Diane paused, considering her response. “I mean, I have friends,” she corrected herself, a slight catch in her throat. “I do. But I… I just don’t have time for them. I can’t explain it. When I’m with them, all I’m thinking about is the next project at work. I’m there, but not really there. Work alway has and will be my number one priority.”

It was the truth. Diane’s work ethic was relentless, bordering on obsessive. Late nights in the office were the norm, not the exception. She refused to leave until she was satisfied, driven by an internal engine that never seemed to run out of fuel.

This drive stemmed from her upbringing. Raised by hard working parents, she had learned the value of perseverance and dedication from a young age. Both her mother and father had worked tirelessly to provide her with the best life possible. Her mother, a dedicated nurse, often picked up extra shifts around holidays like her birthday and Christmas, sacrificing precious time to afford her the most luxurious gifts. Her father, a hardworking businessman who ran a small advertising company, had saved every penny from the day she was born to fund her college education. “You’re destined for greatness,” he would often tell her, instilling in her a deep belief in her own potential.

Driven by a potent mix of ambition and gratitude, Diane had excelled in her studies. Her near-perfect GPA had opened doors, leading her to a successful career in journalism. She poured her heart and soul into her work, striving for excellence in everything she did. This relentless drive was the reason she was so immersed in this current article, the cruise scandal. She had been promised a promotion, a reward she could almost taste. But beneath the professional ambition lay a deeper motivation: to make her parents proud. She wanted to show them that their sacrifices, their tireless efforts, hadn’t been in vain. She had to.

Kendall’s expression clouded slightly. “That’s… kind of sad,” he said softly. “Everyone needs someone.”

“My parents— my mom, she sacrificed everything for me,” she said, her voice softening. “That’s why I work so hard. I can’t let her down.”

“So that’s what drives you?” Kendall asked, his voice gentle. “The need to make them proud?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. “I guess it is.”

The conversation had taken a decidedly personal turn. Diane felt exposed, vulnerable. She had revealed more than she intended, offering glimpses into her past, half-truths woven with genuine emotion. Kendall, on the other hand, seemed satisfied, a small smile playing on his lips. He had learned something new about her, something he thought brought them closer. But for Diane, it was a dangerous game, a tightrope walk between truth and deception, and she knew she couldn’t keep it up forever.

“I… I can relate to that, Diane,” Kendall said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. “My dad… I was never good enough for him. Still amn’t.” He looked away, his gaze lost in the swirling water of a nearby tank, as if re-living a painful memory. “I spent my whole life trying to make him proud. But I always fail. Every single time.”

He recounted a harrowing memory, his voice laced with bitterness. “Even after he had the stroke… I went to see him once he woke up. He could barely speak, but he still managed to call me a ‘fucking moron.’ Even on his deathbed, he couldn’t bring himself to say he was proud.” A shudder ran through him. “I’m terrified,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “Terrified that his dying words will be that I’m a failure.”

The raw emotion in his voice was unsettling. Diane, ever the opportunist, saw a chance to delve deeper, to gather more information about Logan Roy, the man behind the monster. This wasn't about genuine empathy; it was about the story, the information she desperately needed.

“Why?” she asked, her voice soft, feigning concern. “Why did you let him treat you like that?”

Kendall hesitated, a flicker of pain crossing his face. He looked at Diane, his eyes filled with a deep, almost desperate need for understanding. “He’s holding some shit over my head, to control me,” he admitted, his voice strained. 

Diane’s pulse quickened. This was it. This was the opening she’d been waiting for. His confession he murmured in his sleep last night: “I killed him. It was an accident.” 

“What is it?” she pressed gently, her voice laced with feigned sympathy. She had to tread carefully; pushing too hard would raise suspicion.

Kendall looked away again, his expression a mixture of shame and fear. He remained silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle hum of the aquarium’s filtration system. The tension in the air was palpable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t… It’s nothing… never mind,” he said, shaking his head slowly. 

She softened her expression, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Diane pressed further, her mind racing, trying to find a new angle to extract the information she craved. She remembered Kendall’s restless night, his night terror. “Was that what your nightmare was about last night?” she asked, her voice soft and concerned, tilting her head slightly. “Your dad?”

Kendall flinched, a visible ripple of discomfort passing over his face. He looked away, his gaze darting around the aquarium, landing on nothing in particular. The playful sea otters, the graceful jellyfish, the imposing sharks – none of it seemed to register. He was lost in his own private world of pain and fear.

He hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “No,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “It wasn’t about him.”

The curt response hung in the air, a clear signal that the subject was closed. Diane could see the shutters coming down, the walls rising back up around him. He wasn’t going to offer any more information, not willingly.

She tried a different tack, softening her tone, feigning a casual interest. “Nightmares can be so strange,” she said, forcing a light chuckle. “Sometimes they’re just random images and feelings, not really about anything specific.”

Kendall remained silent, his gaze fixed on the swirling water of a nearby tank. He didn’t respond, didn’t offer any further explanation. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Kendall abruptly changed the topic, the shift in his mood almost jarring. “Let’s go play with the penguins,” he announced, a forced lightness in his voice. He reached for Diane’s hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and began walking briskly in their direction, as if trying to outpace the heavy emotions that had just hung between them.

As they walked, Diane’s mind replayed everything Kendall had just revealed. A strange feeling stirred within her, something she hadn’t anticipated. A flicker of… empathy? It was an unwelcome sensation, a crack in the carefully constructed wall she had built around herself. Kendall, the man she had pegged as powerful, perhaps even villainous, suddenly appeared different. He seemed like a little boy trapped in a man’s body, a broken soul struggling beneath a surface of wealth and privilege.

She saw him now, not as the entitled heir she had imagined, but as a victim of circumstance. He was trapped under the oppressive weight of his father, unable to break free. The image of the spoiled rich bachelor began to crumble, replaced by a more nuanced, complex picture. Perhaps his behavior, his flaws, were a direct result of his upbringing, of the tyrannical figure that loomed over his life.

Diane was slowly peeling back his layers, uncovering the pain and hurt he carried deep within. A father who was a tyrant, wielding his power like a weapon. His mother hadn’t just left; she had abandoned them. Abandoned him and his siblings in the midst of a bitter divorce, choosing material possessions, property, over her own children. A brother who had betrayed him, a wound that cut deeper than any physical injury. It was a devastating combination, a recipe for deep-seated trauma. The image of a villain that she had expected dissolved completely, replaced by the stark reality of a deeply wounded child.

Kendall hadn’t just been through a “terrible childhood”; he had endured a series of profound betrayals, wounds that had clearly never healed. It wasn’t just about being rich and privileged; it was about the absence of love, the lack of emotional support, the deep-seated feeling of being unwanted.

The penguins, with their comical waddle and playful antics, provided a temporary distraction. Diane was genuinely delighted by their antics, she pointed out their individual quirks, laughing as they slipped and slid on the ice. Kendall found himself smiling, drawn in by her infectious enthusiasm, his earlier melancholy momentarily forgotten.

But even as Diane laughed alongside him, the feeling of empathy lingered. It was a disconcerting sensation, one she struggled to reconcile with her mission. She was supposed to be objective, focused on the story, not emotionally invested in the subject. Yet, she couldn’t deny the shift in her perception of Kendall. He was no longer just a source of information, a pawn– but he was also a victim. 

The game had changed. It wasn't just about getting the story anymore; it was about something much more complicated, something she couldn't quite define.

—————————————————————————-

The afternoon was a promise of summer, a taste of the warmth to come. The Hamptons air, still carrying a hint of spring’s crispness, held the faintest whisper of salt and blooming beach roses. The sky, a brilliant, almost blinding blue, stretched endlessly overhead, the sun a benevolent presence warming their skin. From her perch on the yacht, Diane’s gaze swept across the scene: the coastline, a gentle curve of sand dunes and swaying beach grass, punctuated by the stately homes that lined the shore, their weathered shingles gleaming in the sunlight. The water, a vibrant turquoise, shimmered and danced, reflecting the sun’s rays like a thousand tiny diamonds. A few early sailboats, their white sails billowing in the gentle breeze, dotted the horizon, harbingers of the summer fleet soon to arrive.

Kendall, however, remained oblivious to the beauty surrounding him, lost in a deep, much-needed slumber. He was sprawled across a cushioned sunbed, his face turned towards the sun, absorbing its warmth like a cat basking in a sunbeam. He’d been wound tight all morning, a restless energy simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior, but the gentle rocking of the yacht and the warmth of the afternoon had finally coaxed him into a state of rare tranquility. His head rested comfortably on Diane’s bare thighs, his dark hair tousled, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw.

Diane, seated on the edge of the sunbed, a well-worn paperback resting open in her lap, sipped her Prosecco, the tiny bubbles a pleasant tickle against her lips. The sun warmed her skin, but she was mindful of Kendall’s fair complexion. Every so often, she’d squeeze a generous dollop of high-SPF sunscreen onto her hand and gently rub it into his exposed back, her touch light and careful, avoiding the faint scars that marred his skin – she wondered how he got them, was his father so cruel?

He stirred in his sleep, a soft murmur escaping his lips. “Mmm… thanks,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He shifted slightly, nuzzling his face deeper into her thigh, a small, almost childlike gesture. For the first time in his life, someone was truly taking care of him, protecting him, not from physical harm, but from the constant, gnawing anxieties that plagued his mind. It was a small, almost insignificant act of care, but in its simplicity, it felt profoundly significant.

—————————————————————————-

After the sunset, they returned to the shore, the last vestiges of daylight painting the sky in hues of fading rose and soft lavender. Fine grains of sand clung to their skin. Diane was sprawled comfortably beside him on a beach blanket, his oversized Yale sweatshirt draped over her bikini, the sleeves swallowed by her small hands. 

It was a stark contrast to her usual meticulously curated appearance— the tailored skirts that skimmed her knees, the crisp blouses buttoned just so, the subtle but perfectly applied makeup that enhanced her features. This casual, almost childlike version of Diane, with her hair tousled by the sea breeze and her face bare of makeup. 

He knew it was pathetic, this almost obsessive focus on her appearance. He was a man who commanded boardrooms, negotiated billion-dollar deals, and yet, he was utterly captivated by the way the fading light caught the curve of her cheek, by the way her bare feet ruffled in the sand. He was pathetic, he knew that, and yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. Not at this moment. Not when she looked like this.

She looked so perfect, it was bordering on painful. It was a low, simmering ache in his gut, a tightening in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He swore it was driving him clinically insane. So good that it was making his genius brain, the one that could dissect complex financial models and strategize corporate takeovers, malfunction. And, if he was being brutally honest with himself, it was also making his downstairs ‘brain’ run on overdrive.

She began to trace patterns in the sky with her finger, her voice soft and hushed, as if sharing a sacred secret. “See that bright one there?” she asked, pointing towards a star just beginning to pierce the twilight. “That’s Arcturus, one of the brightest stars in the spring sky. It’s part of the constellation Boötes, the herdsman. You can find it by following the arc of the Big Dipper’s handle.”

Kendall followed her gaze, his eyes drawn to the emerging point of light. The sky was still transitioning from day to night, a gradient of deep blues and purples, making the few visible stars seem all the more precious. “It’s just starting to come out,” he murmured, a genuine sense of wonder in his voice.

Diane smiled, her eyes reflecting the nascent starlight. “Exactly,” she said. “It’s a sign of spring, a promise of warmer nights to come. And over there,” she continued, shifting her finger slightly, “that’s Leo, the lion. See how it kind of looks like a backwards question mark? Regulus is its brightest star, marking the lion’s heart.” She traced the constellation’s shape in the sky, her finger moving with a graceful precision. “It’s a powerful image, a symbol of strength and courage.”

“Strength,” Kendall repeated, the word catching in his throat. He’d spent so much of his life trying to project an image of strength, a mask that was constantly threatening to slip. The idea of genuine inner strength, the kind that Diane seemed to possess effortlessly, felt like a distant, unattainable dream.

“Yeah,” Diane said, her gaze still fixed on the heavens. “And if you look a little further down, you can see Virgo, associated with the harvest, another sign of the coming abundance of summer. Spring is all about new beginnings, right? A time for things to grow and bloom.” She paused, taking a deep breath of the cool, fragrant air. “It makes you think about possibilities, about what could be.”

Her words, her quiet enthusiasm, had a grounding effect on Kendall. The emerging stars, the ancient stories woven into the constellations, the promise of spring’s renewal, created a space outside of his own anxieties. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt present, connected to something larger than himself, anchored to the earth beneath him. The sand beneath him felt solid, the cool spring air on his skin felt refreshing, and the woman beside him, with her quiet wisdom and gentle spirit, felt like a lifeline in the encroaching darkness.

Kendall admired Diane’s side profile, she was beautiful, not in the polished, calculated way she often presented herself to the world, but in a raw, natural way that took his breath away. Spring was in the air, and it seemed to have breathed new life into her as well. The moonlight cast long shadows across the sand, illuminating the delicate curve of Diane’s cheek, the soft curve of her lips. 

"You look so beautiful," Kendall murmured, his voice low and husky, the sound barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. He leaned in, gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly across her cheekbones. His touch was feather-light, hesitant, as if he were afraid she might shatter if he held her too tightly. And then he kissed her.

The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like a question being asked rather than a statement being made. Gentle. Nothing rushed. It wasn't the kind of kiss they'd shared before. Their previous encounters had been charged with a different kind of energy, a raw, almost desperate urgency fueled by lust, by the heat of the moment during sex. Those kisses had been demanding, possessive, frantic. 

This was different. This was tender, almost hesitant, a soft exploration rather than a passionate conquest. It was the first time they had kissed like this, fully clothed. The lines blurred in Diane’s mind; this felt dangerously close to real. 

She pulled back slightly, a flicker of confusion, perhaps even a hint of fear, in her eyes. 

Kendall, sensing her hesitation, didn't pull away. He simply stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes a silent plea, a desperate yearning for something he couldn't quite articulate. He wanted this connection, this moment, to be real, to mean something. He so desperately wanted the heavens above to answer the silent prayer in his heart, to grant him this one thing he craved above all else: genuine, unconditional love.

Diane got lost in his hazel eyes, those pools of vulnerability and longing. Against her better judgment, she leaned back in, her own hand reaching up to touch his arm. Their lips met again, this time with a greater sense of urgency, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Their lips moved in sync, it felt bizarre, wrong on so many levels. This wasn't supposed to happen. But for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to forget about her plan.

Kendall was kissing her like he was terrified. Terrified he would wake up and it would’ve all been a dream, a fleeting mirage in the desert of his loneliness. He held onto her as if she might disappear at any moment, his lips pressing against hers with a desperate, almost frantic tenderness. He rolled them over, a slow, deliberate movement that shifted their positions on the beach. Now, Diane straddled his hips, her knees sinking slightly into the cool, damp grains of sand. 

“Sit on my face,” Kendall pleaded, squeezing her ass. She frowned as he laid his head down, getting cozy with his head on the sand, still smirking, patting his mouth comically—an invitation. 

“What?” Diane asked not sure what to make of his unusual request. She knew it was a private beach but it still felt too exposed.

When she didn’t move he lifted his head back up, “Come on,” he urged her, tapping her hips to nudge her along, “let me taste you. Sit. On. My. Face.”

Kendall couldn't resist not eating her out whenever he had the chance. She slowly crawled up over him, hesitating once she was straddling his chest, unable to hold back a blush. His warm hands are quick to hook around her thighs, sliding his thumb over her hip bones as she hovered in front of his chin, “come closer.”

He lifted his head up when she finally scooted forward, still hovering. Kendall kissed her inner thigh, smirking as her hips bucked lower towards his touch. 

“Sacred I’m gonna bite?” His lips moved against her thigh, his stubble tickling her as he spoke.

“No, I don’t want to suffocate you.” She pushed her fingers through his hair, gripping at his roots.

“I wish you would, ” he groaned, pulling her lower so he didn’t have to crane his neck to taste her. He licked the wet spot on her bikini, lapping at her juices, moaning before flattening his tongue, dragging it up to her clit to suck lightly through the fabric. 

It wasn’t long before had enough of the thin material blocking his way, aggressively pulling on the strings over her hips to untie it, so he could finally lick her how he wanted. Which she quickly realized was mercilessly. He was hungry—starved for something only her pussy could satiate, drinking her in like he was dehydrated. It was intense. He ate with reverence, slurping loudly and humming in appreciation, his hot lips suctioning on her clit till she was seeing stars. 

Diane’s feedback was choppy, like her brain couldn’t sync up in time to react to his movements— to the sensations. It was all broken moans and shudders, the only thing consistent is the way she pulled his hair.

She was leaning more and more of her weight onto his face and rocking , occasionally lifting a bit when she remembered her self-control. But after she lifted one too many times, Kendall’s fingers tightened around her thighs, holding her close with an ironclad grip— making her squirm.

Kendall was delighted as he peered up at her beneath drunk lashes, eyes just as dazed as his mind as he watched her sumptuous body move on top of him. She tasted like cloyingly honey on the tip of his tongue, her essence lingering in the back of his throat every time he swallowed. He chased the slick beads as they dripped down her plump thighs, greedy mouth attacking her soft insides as she moaned on top of him, her pussy drooling and clenching around nothing as the hot coil inside of her twisted tighter. He groaned against her searing skin, his hot breath tickling her sensitive flesh as every hair on the nape of her neck stood up.

"So beautiful" Kendall muttered, voice dripping with reverence. "You look so beautiful tonight."

He etched the intimate scene into his mind as a pleasant itch tingled at the base of his skull, fingers twitching around her plump hips as he squeezed the pillowy soft skin. His tongue lapped at the dripping seam of her cunt; prying open the puffy folds as indulged in more of your slick nectar flowing from her core like a river. 

Diane almost choked on a hiccup of pleasure, her clit weakly kicking against the press of his nose as he sealed his mouth over her entrance. Her blood simmered in her veins, pulling and tugging on his raven locks, hips shaking as she tried to contain her sudden spike in arousal twisting low in the pit of her gut. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of her lashes as stars swirled in her vision, voice stinging her throat as she struggled to breathe. 

Her legs trembled, her full weight failing upon his lips and tongue—and Kendall couldn’t have been more grateful . It didn't take long for his mouth to become sloppy,  drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. 

Diane’s vision began to blur. She couldn’t tell if it was from tears welling up or the overwhelming sensation building in her core. She was dripping so, so sweetly, and Kendall beneath her hummed, hungry, ravenous, he needed more, he wanted to eat her whole. His tongue slowly circled her bud, and oh fuck, he pulled and it tugged in it, opening the floodgates. The building pressure unfurled, Diane threw her head back, whimpering. And kendall drank it all in.

But he didn’t stop there. He wasn’t done just yet.

He held her in place, still latched onto her clit as she rode out her orgasm. Because cumming once wasn’t enough for him. It didn’t matter that his chin was wet with her, that his tongue was soaked with the taste of her. Kendall wanted to wrack her body until she had nothing left to give. So he kept on sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit, until she came again and again until she was spent, until she screamed without sound, until the stars behind her eyelids faded away into black.

Her hips convulsed around him, putting him in a headlock of sorts, before she released him, her body fell back against his raised knees, he caught her, letting her body take a moment from his torturous tongue.

“Could eat you all night,” he groaned, her legs still open, inches away from his mouth, as her back rested against his thighs, her head draped over his knees. He watched her pink, puffy lips glisten with his residual spit and her own sweet juices.

Diane had gone non-verbal by that point, her body was still shaking as she looked up at the vast expanse of the sky. Kendall moved his middle finger up and down along her slit before taking his middle and index finger to spread open her sensitive lips, admiring her sex dripping for him. He loved the way it glistened. He watched as her walls clenched around nothing, practically begging him to fill her up.

“Kendall, please,” she begged him. Her voice, still raspy. He did a double take at her disheveled appearance. Her eyes bloodshot with her mascara running, smudging her under eyes.

He didn't respond as he spread her lips further apart, letting the cold breeze hit her entrance. Her face heated up while Kendall fully exposed her.  

“You have the tightest little pussy,” he commented, feeling how her entrance wanted to take in his thumb, but he didn't push it in. Not yet.

He finally slipped a finger inside her. Her walls instinctively squeezed around his thick digit. She cried out in pleasure as she squirmed more. The pad of his finger slowly rubbed and pressed firmly on that spongey spot on her walls. She arched her back letting out a strangled cry.

Kendall gently pushed another finger inside her. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he began pumping them in and out of her slowly. She felt his cock twitch under her. His fingers were knuckle deep, he continued thrusting them inside her. He curled them up and made sure to pay close attention to her g-spot, pressing on it and massaging it. Making her walls clench up, her toes curling in the sand.

“You okay, baby?” Kendall checked in, but his fingers didn’t slow.

“Y-yes… I’m okay, keep going,” she stammered out, as she tried to keep focus.

He chuckled and picked up the pace. His fingers were making her pussy create the most vulgar wet sounds she'd ever heard. Her slick soaking his hand as he fucked her. Her legs shook and he took his other hand to rub tight circles over her clit. 

Kendall didn't stop. His fingers still moved in and out of her while his other hand paid attention to her throbbing clit. He milked her pussy as she rode out her release. He finally slowed down and stilled his hands. Carefully, he removed his fingers with a loud shlick . A string of her juices still connecting to them. He brought them up to his lips, sticking them in his mouth.

Kendall hummed at the taste of her. “You’re so sweet.” She wanted to hide her face, her eyes were glossy, illuminated by the moonlight.

“You're crazy,” Diane whispered, feeling like she just had an out of body experience. He pulled her back down, their chests pressed together, his tongue dancing in her mouth. 

(*siri play champage coast by blood orange; 3:01*)

A rogue wave, emboldened by the rising tide, surged up the beach, engulfing their legs. The sudden rush of icy water sent a jolt through Kendall, a flash of annoyance tightening his features. He scowled at his soaked clothes, the sand now stubbornly clinging to the damp fabric.

But then he looked at Diane.

Her reaction was the complete opposite. She threw her head back and let out a burst of pure, unrestrained laughter—a sound so genuine and carefree, it was infectious. Before Kendall could process his irritation, Diane was running towards the water’s edge, jumping into the sea with a joyful cry, submerging herself completely. The cool water seemed to revitalize her, like a dried-up starfish returned to the ocean.

She resurfaced, her hair plastered to her face, water dripping from her eyelashes, but her smile was radiant. “It’s amazing!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the beach. “Come on in!”

Kendall watched her, a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement swirling within him. He was still annoyed about his ruined clothes, but Diane’s infectious joy was hard to resist. He couldn’t understand her carefree attitude, her ability to embrace the unexpected.

He hesitated, glancing at his expensive, now soaked shoes. But Diane’s laughter continued to beckon. He kicked off his shoes and waded into the cold water.

Suddenly, Diane splashed him, a playful wave aimed directly at his chest. Kendall gasped, feigning offense. “Oh, you’re going down!” he shouted, retaliating with a splash of his own. Playful splashes and shrieks echoed across the quiet beach, a stark contrast to Kendall’s usual heavy silence. He chased Diane through the shallows, the cold water a shocking but welcome sensation. As he lunged for her, catching her in his arms, they both tumbled into the waves with a shared cry.

For Kendall, the feeling was almost foreign. He had forgotten what it felt like to simply laugh. The last time he remembered feeling this carefree was a distant memory, a faded snapshot from a childhood that felt like it belonged to someone else. His life had become a carefully constructed performance, a constant striving for his father’s approval. There was no room for joy in the rigid structure he had built around himself. Every action was weighed against his father’s expectations, the burden of his past mistakes, the fear of his uncertain future.

But in that moment, in the cool ocean water, with Diane’s laughter ringing in his ears, the weight lifted. The years of pressure, the constant striving, the deep-seated fear – all of it seemed to wash away with the waves. He was just Kendall, a man playing in the ocean with a woman who made him feel something he couldn’t define. It was more than just attraction; it was connection, a shared moment of pure joy.

He looked at Diane, her face flushed with laughter, and a genuine smile spread across his own. He had forgotten the simple pleasure of being present, of letting go of his worries and simply enjoying another person’s company. She had somehow managed to chip away at the walls he had built around himself, revealing a part of him he thought had long since died. It was terrifying.

They continued their playful fight, splashing and chasing each other until they were both breathless and shivering. They collapsed onto the sand, their wet clothes clinging to their bodies.

“Come on,” Kendall said, extending a hand to her. “Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold.” He gently pulled her to her feet, noticing she was shivering slightly. The sand squished between her toes with every step.

He then bent down, scooping her up into his arms before she could protest. Diane gasped, a surprised laugh escaping her lips. “I can walk,” she protested, though her voice lacked conviction.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice firm but gentle, his eyes filled with concern. “And walking in this wet sand isn’t going to help. Besides,” he added with a playful grin, a hint of teasing in his tone, “I think I’ve worn you out tonight?”

Diane met his gaze, a small smile playing on her lips. She didn’t argue, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing counterpoint to the crashing waves. Then, she drifted off.

Kendall carried Diane back to the house, her small frame surprisingly light in his arms. He climbed the porch steps and entered the warm interior, noticing her breathing had become slow and even. He carried her directly to the bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. The wet fabric of her clothes clung uncomfortably to her skin, so he carefully removed his soaked sweatshirt from her, being mindful not to wake her.

He fetched a soft towel and dried her off. He didn't care about the sand that fell onto the sheets or the saltwater that clung to their hair. All that mattered was Diane, the peaceful expression on her sleeping face, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

He found a clean pair of his sweatpants and a soft t-shirt and dressed her, pulling the soft fabric over her still-damp skin. He then lay down beside her, pulling the covers over them both and tightening his hold slightly, drawing her closer. He had never felt this sense of peace, this quiet contentment. It was a feeling that defied explanation—a simple knowing that everything, in that moment, was exactly as it should be.

It was just them, in that quiet room, with the sound of the ocean as their only companion. It felt perfect—a brief escape from the complexities of their lives, a moment of respite. For Kendall, it was a glimpse of something he hadn't known he was missing: a taste of peace and connection. And for Diane, in her sleep, it was a moment of respite from her carefully constructed plan, a brief surrender to the simple comfort of being held.

[forestryprompts]

Character A: We're like the masters of this whole 'friends with benefits' thing.

Character B: We do have it down to a science, don't we?

Character A: But what if we're also experts at pretending we're not falling for each other?

[sturnstvs]

the smallest man who ever lived - matt sturniolo

warnings: super sad, no happy ending, toxic matt, mentions of drugs

summary: in which being best friends with benefits doesn't turn out they way either of you would have expected

note: also quick thing I don't know if im doing the song justice I hope you like it. this is just my take on it. also I'm bad at grammer and spelling so sorry about that

bold - lyrics

matt x reader.

was any of it true? gazing at me starry-eyed

you wernt sure when It happened. deep down you knew this would ruin you but you still went with it. you wondered if the words he muttered and they way he looked at you was real. you knew it wasn't real but you also knew you couldn't get enough

in your jehovah's witness suit

matt dressed well. everyone who came in contact with him knew that. he had a style that was like no other. even when it was lying on the floor of your room. he cared what people thought of him sometimes but being in the influencer industry he couldn't

who the fuck was that guy?

you didn't recognize him sometimes, it was like he had different personality's for different people. or maybe just everyone else and then you. one time you were at a party for some influencer and nick had invited you, being their best friend and all you accepted their invite. you being who you are didn't go to party's often especially with the boys. so when you saw matt in his natural party state lets just say it more then shocked you.

he was all over girls. dabbing people up like he was best friends with everyone there. maybe he was, you didn't know. you vividly remember you asking nick where matt got all this random confidence from. nick just brushed it off saying matt was just being himself, however to you, you couldn't recognize him.

you tried to buy some pills from a friend of friends of mine

it came back to you one day from some people that you knew that sold drugs, that matt had tried to buy something to calm his nerves. apparently he asked one of his friends not knowing you were also friends with some of them. you knew he was having some trouble however you didn't think that it had come this far.

they just ghosted you

they didnt give a reply back to matt after you told them about what had more then likely been happening. it probly wasnt your place but you did care about him and you didn't want him to spiral.

now you know what it feels like

the first time matt ghosted you, you kept wondering what you did wrong. when you confronted matt about it he shrugged it off as it was nothing. making it up to you in the only way he knew how. sex. you thought he wouldn't ghost you again but you were wrong. at this point you were used to it. he was probably balls deep into another girl for all you know. when matt came to you after he couldn't get the pills you couldn't help but feel no remorse. you had been ghosted before and it didn't feel good, and now he knew what it felt like.

and I don't even want you back I just want to know

reflecting back on what you once had was always a challenge. it brought up painful memories. he had fucked up once again and it was your last straw, you were done. a few months later though you had to go back you couldn't resist

if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal

your summer was great. hanging out with your best firends when they were in their glimmering prime. hell you where even talking to a guy. you decided that summer you were going to start taking care of yourself more. you where having the time of your life. however when you and matt slept together for the first time that summer it was like it became something bigger. something that you couldn't get enough from.

and I don't miss what we had

you knew you shouldn't. you knew you where going to regret it but you couldn't help it. his touch was mesmerizing. he made you feel safe and welcome. but at the same time when you guys were away from each other you didn't miss him. you didn't miss him completely ignoring you after the amazing sex you had the night prior.

but could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived

when nick and chris found out that you wouldn't be around for a while they where beyond confused. they didn't think any of them had done anything wrong. but after all you said was "ask your brother" and hung up the phone they knew he had done something to fuck it up.

they didn't know. they didn't know you to were hoking up, all they knew was you were best friends. they yelled at matt telling him how fucked up whatever he did to you was, it was like your words were the ones shooting daggers in to his heart. but it wasn't you, it was your message.

you hung me on your wall stabbed me with your push pins

when matt hooked up with other girls you hated to say it but it hurt. it hurt like hell because you knew that one of those girls could eventually be his, even if the sex sucked. with you the sex was great, but that's all it was.

in public showed me off

in public weather it be a party or just simply around his brothers he acted like you guys where strictly friends. you knew deep down you weren't, but that also didn't mean he felt the same

then sank in stoned oblivion

when you to weren't having sex though and were alone, he acted like you weren't there. like you meant nothing to him but then when you came home with a mark on your neck he would ask where you got it from and that only he could mark you like that.

cause once your queen had come

he found is dream girl. you knew it was never going to be you, even though you wished it was. they clicked so well, like they were matches in the missing puzzle of life

you'd treat her like an also-ran

you found out the hard way he treated her like he did with you, just as her girlfriend. which in terms was way worse. you felt bad for her but at the same time, it was matt. this shit always happens with people like him

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man

matt wasn't a man. he wasn't a gentleman you would see in disney movies. he was fully grown and had the appearance of one, but he just wasn't actually one. he treated girls like they were a piece of gum. he was still in his douche bag phase

he kept repeating the same cycle with you over and over again. it was never ending.

you guys hooked up, he treated you like shit after, said you where friends to everyone, fucked something up with you, you would say you where done telling his brothers you wouldn't be over, and they would yell the same shit to him once again. he still however didn't seem to take the message to change.

you hated to say it but you wanted more, you wanted to be something to him but all your friends told you, you were crazy and you knew they were right. he wasn't going to change.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

you always wondered if the world was against you. nothing seemed to go right in the endless void that was your life. you knew you had enemies. being attractive your whole life, getting guys peple wanted you knew you might have had enemies especially being friends with so many influences, so when matt started acting this way towards you, you thought maybe this was a clap back from someone who hated you.

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

everytime you guys finished and you fell back to bed he seemed tense like their was a monster hiden under the bed.

were you writing a book?

you always wondered why you fell into this situation. it was something that you would read in a book. you never thought that you would live it. was this research for him. was it a book?

were you a sleeper cell spy?

was he doing this because it was his job? there was no way, the matt that you grew up with would ever do this to you but here he was doing this to you.

in 50 years will all this be declassifed?

you often wondered if he would ever tell you why he was doing this to you but you soon found out that it wouldn't be for years if he ever did say something.

and you'll confess why you did it

he finally told you after about the sixth time of the back and forth that he did it for you because he loved you and he didn't want what the fans would say to ruin that.

and I'll say "good riddance"

when he finally told you this you where happy, he finally told you the one thing that had been hanging over your shoulders. but you weren't happy with the way he planned it out.

cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden

you could see it in his eyes, though you knew that he was still worried. a relationship wasn't seen in the near future and you both knew that. once he had confessed why he did what he did, it didn't make you immediately awe at him like he thought it would. he hurt you deeply and he was paying for it. and he was an idiot for thinking it would end well.

i would've died for your sins instead I just died inside

if you where to ask younger y/n if she would take the heat for matt she would've instantly said yes but if you were to ask present day y/n she would say "no he hurt me to much" her heart died with all the love she had for matt stored in it as well.

and you deserve prison but you wont get time

she thought after what he did he should be locked up for all the damage she knew he caused on her heart. unfortunately for her, however you don't go to prison for emotionally hurting someone.

you'll slide into inboxes and slip though the bars

he tried so hard to contact y/n once she ran out of his house that night but it was no use, she just left him on read. he even tired going to her house but she wouldn't answer

you crashed my party and your rental car

you had a party after your argument with matt wanting to let off some steam. nick and chris were invited but their brother was not. he was the reason you had this party, he was the reason you had changed. somehow (probably from his brothers or social media) he found out about the party and came to try and apologize but you wouldn't accept it. he left extremely annoyed at himself for causing you the pain that he did. he ended up crashing the car that he rented while his was in the shop, on the way home. and when you heard about it the next morning you just said it was karma

you said normal girls were "boring"

he always told you when you guys would have sex that you were very adventurous with the things you did. other girls before you weren't as exciting as you were.

but you were gone by the morning

he would leave instantly early the next morning. going from your house to his before his brothers woke up. leaving extremely late at night and in the early hours in the morning, he would always tell you that he did it so you wouldn't get caught but you were never 100% sure that was the reason.

you kicked out the stage lights but you're still preforming

he dropped the act he pulled when you were sleeping together but he was still trying to get you back even though that was the last thing you wanted.

and in plain sight you hid

it was hard to show his face after what he did to you but he had to put on a brave fake smile to the camera for his job. but you could tell he was trying to hide the shame he brought upon you.

but you are what you did

you could never forgive him for the pain he caused you. he wounded you so deep you had to cut off your childhood best friends because it was too much to even look at him. every time you did look at him you were just reminded of the heartbreak.

and I'll forget you but I'll never forgive

you moved on as soon as you felt ready enough to. even though it took a while to heal after the cut matt had dug deep in your chest, you were eventually able to move on. a year later you saw him again and you made eye contact, but you turned away quickly walking up to your boyfriend. you could never forgive the man that hurt you, while also hurting himself in the process.

the smallest man who ever lived.

note: some parts in here might be a little confusing and I'm so sorry about that. like taylor i dont know what you mean by some of these lyrics.

sorry this might be bad. I'm not great at writing.

make sure you check out my other one shots and my delilah series!

requests are open! so feel free to send me some! just make sure to look at my restrictions

[abiiors]

Bet

Day 5 of (write) anything that you want to! week and omg it's over so quickly. Truly I had so much fun 😭💞 Series Masterlist

Warnings - Minors dni! This is toxic, to say the least, but it is also hot so, uh, yeah, sub matty kinda??? (at least I’ve tried lmao), overstim. (Not the biggest fan of this fic, unfortunately.), oral, fwb dynamic

Friday: slutty matty

The pub is crowded tonight. Which is to be expected for a Friday night. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him chatting up a pretty blonde at the bar. She giggles at something he says, twirls her hair around her finger. He leans closer as if on cue and lets his eyes roam freely from her mouth to her very ample cleavage. 

He’s interested. Or so she thinks. 

She throws her head back, laughs loudly at his joke. And he takes the opportunity to steal a glance at you. But reading his body language has almost become second nature now so you focus your attention back on the man in front of you. 

Nate (Nick?) the financial analyst (banker?) is busy gloating about his recent luxury Cancun holiday and how he could take you places if you interest him enough. (Starting with his dingy apartment tonight, you’re sure of it.)

You hmm and nod at all the appropriate times, smile coyly at him when he suggests anything remotely sexual. 

‘So, should we leave?’ he asks in a deep, fake husky voice, ‘my place?’

In response, you place a hand on his knees and slowly drag it upward. ‘Wait for me?’ you purr, ‘I’ll be back in five.’ And you’re out before he has a chance to respond. 

The music thrums louder, bodies press together closely as they sway and stagger. An arm snakes around your waist, sending a thrill of excitement right down to your stomach and you feel yourself being pulled flush against Matty’s firm chest. 

‘A hand on his knee?’ he tuts and tries to nip at your ear. 

‘Well…’ you grind lightly on him, ‘I saw you eyeing her like that and thought I could do one better.’

Your blood turns hot and rushes straight down when you feel his fingers trailing up your thigh. Being this close to him is already a dizzying sensation but all your thoughts zero in on that one calloused finger drawing circles on the apex of your thigh. 

‘Time’s up,’ he breathes. ‘Ready to leave?’

You nod, barely concealing the excitement that blooms within you at his words. Nick (Nate?) will realise soon enough that you won’t be back tonight. So will the several others whose numbers sit safely in your phone. You’re sure there is an equally long trail of women who will wonder why he’s never gone back to them. The question is, whose is longer?

The cab ride back to his place is tense and silent, the air thick with anticipation. His fingers get tangled in the hem of your dress, yours get caught trying to undo his buttons but none of you dares speak. None of you is allowed to reveal your numbers yet. So the car fills with sounds of soft gasps and shuddered breaths and racing heartbeats. 

Matty’s place is silent and dimly lit. He goes to turn on the light but you’re quick to stop him; tonight’s activities are best kept in the dark after all. 

His hand comes to rest on your waist, another on the back of your neck as he tilts your face up. 

‘I’m going to leave you such a mess tonight,’ he murmurs cockily, fingers digging into your waist but you’re not one to submit so easily. 

‘Counting our chickens, are we?’ you smirk and step out of his grip. He almost stumbles forward, almost lets out a surprised grunt but stops himself just in time. 

‘How much?’ he asks once he has his phone out. You take a minute to take him in, faintly illuminated by the glow of his screen, looking at you with dark hungry eyes. 

‘You first,’ you challenge. 

His smirk widens but he doesn’t challenge back, instead, he holds out his phone for you to see. One after the other after the other, there are eight phone numbers in total and your grin deepens, turns feral. 

All you need to do is breathe one word.

‘Nine’

-----

The silk bedsheets on his bed are unruffled, pristine. It’s your playground for tonight and you can’t wait to see the state of them once you’re done with him. The shadows in the bedroom deepen and flicker as you make your way to the familiar drawer. “The drawer of sins” he calls it but to you, it’s the drawer of all your depraved fantasies come true. 

‘On the bed,’ you command, voice low and sultry. 

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he smiles coyly. But you know you’ll fuck the coyness out of him soon enough. 

The drawer opens almost soundlessly. It’s lined with red velvet, the same shade of your nails tonight, the same shade of the blindfold that sits within. Among an assortment of things. 

‘Are you going to be a good boy for me tonight?’ you ask and he nods eagerly. 

You step closer, close enough that you’re standing between his legs and place the satin blindfold over his eyes. 

‘Your words, love,’ you taunt, tying a knot with deft fingers, ‘I asked you a question.’

Matty hmms distractedly, too dazed to be thinking properly but he knows the rules of this game. ‘I will be good for you tonight,’ he whispers hoarsely. 

So you place a palm flush against his chest and push him onto the bed.

His head bounces slightly on the mattress and his lips part with a gasp but none of that can be compared to the sound he makes once you climb on top and straddle him. 

You grab his chin with your fingers, nails digging softly into his hard jaw, ‘tell me your safe word.’

‘Red,’ he swallows and that’s all the encouragement you need. 

You tighten your fingers around his jaw, bring your mouth so it’s almost touching his, ‘and tell me what you want,’ you command softly. Your lips ghost over his and he shivers at the featherlight touch. 

‘I want to please you.’

The thought brings the butterflies swarming to your stomach; him writhing under you, begging for you to touch him. 

You start slow, just unbuttoning his shirt, palming him through his jean. That elicits a proper groan out of him and he thrusts his hips upward almost reflexively. Matty’s chest shines in the moonlight—pale and unmarked for now. It’s practically begging to be covered in scratches and hickeys but all of that would come later. For now, you slowly trail a nail down his sternum and watch the goosebumps scatter over his body. 

‘Let’s try something new tonight, shall we?’ you ask, already looking at the small collection of toys on the nightstand. It’s such a small device really, black and like a bullet in shape but that’s what you’ve chosen for tonight. 

A faint buzzing fills the room as soon as you push the button and his eyebrows raise slightly. He’s not allowed to speak, he’s not allowed to answer back but clearly, he can’t help himself. His mouth opens, about to speak but you’re faster. 

Whatever words are about to leave his mouth turn into a soft moan as soon as the vibrator hovers over one of his nipples—just close enough to send shocks through him but not close enough to properly touch him. His back arches, his body trying to make contact with it wherever you take it. And you feel the blood rushing down south. It’s almost tempting to use the vibrator on yourself but no, not so quick. 

‘Do you want more?’ you move the buzzing device down, down, down, trailing over his navel; circling it once, then again. His gasps grow erratic as soon as it moves lower; as soon as you trace it over his happy trail and rest it just above his jeans. 

‘I want more,’ he gasps out, ‘please!’

His bulge is painfully big by now, he’s ready to do anything just to feel any kind of fiction. If it were any other day, you would simply get him out of his jeans and sink down but today is not like the other days. Today is the day he learns the consequences of losing a bet. 

‘Go on then,’ you smile sweetly, ‘take them off.’

He doesn’t need to be twice. His shaky fingers fumble with his belt, then his zipper while you watch. The vibrator buzzes in your hands still and you wonder if you could just…

‘Fuck…’ he breathes as soon as he hears it. Because you can’t help the moan that escapes you as soon as the silicon tip touches your aching, wet pussy. 

‘Shit,’ he groans, ‘are you touching yourself.’

You moan obnoxiously as the wand rests right against your clit. It’s nothing compared to his fingers, his touches. The faster he gets out of his clothes, the better it will be for him, he knows. But his hands shake and he keeps stopping to hear you, to feel the moans reverberate through his bones. It’s like he simply can’t help himself. 

‘Faster, Matthew,’ you chide, follow it up with another obscene moan. ‘Unless we want to tease each other all night?’

The jeans are off and thrown somewhere to the side quickly after that, the boxers follow suit. But that’s all he’s allowed to do for now, that’s all he was told. You wonder if you should be cruel and make him wait but wanting to see his reaction is a much stronger urge. So you begrudgingly move the bullet away from you and right at the base. The bullet gleams with your wetness, leaves a trail wherever it touches and Matty whines loudly at the first fucking contact. 

He mumbles and curses turn incoherent as soon as the buzzing wand moves toward the base of his shaft. His hips bucks, sweat making his chest glisten as beads of precum make his tip glisten. 

‘Such a pretty mess,’ you tut, enjoying the feeling of those words. Usually, it’s him using them against you, whispering them against your inner thigh as he watches you fall apart. 

So you bring your mouth down and give his tip a small lick. Matty’s grunts turn wild, his hips jerking, trying to chase more of the feeling. 

‘Please, baby,’ he begs, ‘please, I want your mouth on me.’

You hum softly in contemplation, dragging the device up and down absentmindedly while he whines. ‘Oh god, oh god, fuck—’ he screams, louder this time and you almost, almost wonder if you should put him out of his misery. 

‘My mouth around you?’ you mock, ‘but you haven’t done anything to earn it.’

‘I will earn it,’ he whines, ‘please just, I want you.’ He’s minutes away from snapping, you know he is. But this is just getting better.

You take the vibrator away from him, straddle him once again until you can feel his stiff cock pressed against your ass. Just as he can feel your went cunt on his stomach. ‘Tell me your colour.’

‘Green,’ he doesn’t hesitate, ‘Please, I’m gonna die, please let me fuck you.’

The look in his eyes when you pull the blindfold down is going to be a permanent part of your fantasies, you’re sure of it. His eyes have gone almost pitch black and unfocused. His curls plastered to his forehead and his lips swollen from how hard he bit his teeth into them.

‘Need you on my face,’ he begs, ‘I told you I will earn it.’

He doesn’t need to ask twice before you’re lowering yourself on his face. His hands come to grip your things, yours clutch the headboard as his tongue circles your already sensitive clit. 

‘Fuck,’ you ground out simultaneously—him from the taste of you and you from the jolt that goes through you.’

Your eyes roll back in pleasure as his tongue makes quick work of lapping at you. His fingers dig into your creamy thighs, and you hips grind involuntarily. He’s the one that’s supposed to be writhing yet here he is, almost desperate and feverish, making you scream out his name. 

‘Good boy,’ you encourage, ‘so good to me.’ In response he lets his teeth graze your clit.

‘I’ll let you cum if you make me cum first,’ you offer but that feeling is not far away. The room spins and spins as pleasure builds at the base of your spine. Occasionally Matty hums and sends vibrations all throughout your body. With every filthy word he utters, with every broad stroke he licks, you feel your sanity slipping away slowly. 

‘Keep going,’ you moan loudly just as his grip tightens, ‘god, I'm so close.’

‘I wanna taste you,’ he pleads, ‘please.’ And plunges his tongue inside one last time. That’s all it needs for the restraint to snap. You’re surprised that the wood doesn’t splinter under your fingers with how hard you grip it. The room tilts on its axis or maybe it’s just you, throwing your head back and screaming something incoherent. Thighs trembling and out of breath, you finally manage to bring yourself down enough to look at him. His mouth is wet with your slick, his face hungry for more. The blindfold rests somewhere around his neck having slipped off halfway through and his hands move up and down your hips. 

‘Fine,’ you murmur, still trying to sound as put together as possible even after shattering on his tongue over and over again. ‘I think you’ve earned it—’

‘Yes, yes,’ he breathes, ‘I am going crazy, please.’ And you can tell he is. He looks like he’s five minutes away from taking matters into his own hands. Quite literally. 

So you smirk down at him and pick up the small black bullet. 

‘So where were we?’ you ask innocently just as buzzing fills the room once again. 

[fushiguro-megloomy]

Strawberry Wine

Pt 2. After the Distance

[part 1] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader Tags: porn with plot, viktor is a tease (ツ), lots of buildup, smut, no use of y/n, afab!reader wc: 3.8k  notes: It’s here :’) i went over this like 25 times and got a friend to read it to make sure it was good enough so don't let it flop yall asjhashg art from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah, cafekitsune & nicodefresas

The next couple of months were… interesting. While you thought you knew Viktor—at least as well as someone could after a few months—you were quickly discovering that beneath his easy charm and quick wit lay a patient, calculated man, with a streak of something far less innocent. Slick, greedy even. And that side of him was making it increasingly difficult to keep things under wraps.

You’d laid it down early on that this thing between you—whatever it was—would stay between the two of you. Not that you thought Jayce would care, necessarily. If anything, your reasons for secrecy stemmed entirely from your own reservations. You were both workaholics, after all. Your galleries were finally gaining more traction, and Viktor had his research and the lab. Not to mention you’d promised yourself long ago that your career would come first. No distractions, no derailments—especially not for a man.

And yet, your resolve was starting to crack.

Again, you were learning Viktor to be a slick man, one with nimble fingers, skilled not just in tinkering with tech but in unraveling you entirely. Fingers that found their way under the table at dinner, brushing lightly over your thigh and leaving you fumbling for words mid-response to one of Jayce’s questions. Fingers that pinched your ass when no one was looking, the sudden assault making you glare at him—only to catch the smug tilt of his mouth.

But it wasn’t all teasing. Those same fingers smoothed your hair back from your face in the aftermath, his cool, calloused thumb tracing over your kiss-swollen lips with a tenderness that left your heart beating recklessly. His touch was addictive, and you were a hopeless addict.

Of course, like any addict, withdrawals were inevitable.

The boys had been called away—a business deal overseas that was only supposed to last a weekend instead turning into a nine day ordeal. You’d kept yourself busy with work, trying to throw yourself into painting and coordinating for another upcoming gallery showing. But your thoughts had a nasty habit of drifting, especially every time Jayce would video call with a trip update. You smiled, nodding along as he happily recounted the details of their successful presentations and the eventual closing of the deal.

It wasn’t Jayce’s enthusiasm that distracted you—it was the figure in the background. Viktor, half out of frame, often hunched over a small workspace or absently flipping through pages of a notebook. His focus, sharp as ever, made your pulse quicken despite yourself.

Once, during one of these calls, Viktor looked up. His eyes flicked toward the camera, meeting yours for just a fraction of a second. It was nothing, really—just a glance. But it felt like a spark, sending heat crawling up your neck and pooling low in your stomach.

You tried to ignore it.

“...And then Viktor had the most insane suggestion about combining thermochemical—oh, speak of the devil!” Jayce’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

Viktor leaned into frame, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “I’m sure it wasn’t that insane,” he said smoothly, his voice making your chest tighten.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Jayce replied, rolling his eyes before glancing back at you. “Anyway, the good news is we’re wrapping up here. We should be flying back the day after tomorrow. You’ll finally get some peace and quiet without me bombarding you with updates!”

“Peace and quiet? Jayce, I’d hardly call your calls a disturbance,” you replied lightly, ignoring the sudden spike of anticipation at his words.

Viktor spoke up again, his voice smoother this time. “I’m sure it’ll be good to get back. Familiar surroundings and all that.” His eyes flicked to you briefly, and something in that gaze made your breath hitch. Jayce was oblivious, grinning and nodding along, but Viktor’s yellow gold eyes lingered just long enough to make your stomach twist.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said, forcing yourself to keep your tone even. “Safe travels when the time comes.”

“Thanks! Anyway, I’ll let you go. We’re calling it an early night over here,” Jayce said, stifling a yawn.

The call ended shortly after, leaving you staring at the blank screen. You sighed, leaning back in your chair, fingernails tapping anxiously against the edge of the desk.

-

The gallery buzzed with energy, the hum of conversation weaving through the air as you moved from piece to piece, guiding potential buyers with practiced ease. Your smile was poised, your tone professional as you answered their questions and described your work, but the sting of your bitten cuticles betrayed the nerves you kept buried under layers of polished charm.

Despite your best efforts, your thoughts occasionally wandered. Viktor and Jayce were due back tonight—late, you’d told yourself more than once. You’d have time to finish the showing, decompress, and slip into something casual. It was fine. You were fine.

Still, your mind conjured flashes of Viktor's teasing smirk, the low timbre of his voice in your ear, and—

“You’ve created such movement here,” a man’s voice broke into your thoughts, gesturing at a vibrant abstract piece nearby. “It feels alive.”

You shifted, regrounding yourself. “Thank you,” you said warmly, stepping closer. “That was the intention—a sense of fluidity and life, as if it’s always in motion.”

His smile was appreciative and you slid into explanation, gesturing with your hands to emphasize the piece’s details as you settled back into your element.

The man nodded thoughtfully, offering a few more comments before excusing himself to examine another painting. You exhaled quietly, straightening your shoulders as you turned your attention back to the gallery space. 

The evening had gone smoothly so far, but then your gaze swept toward the entrance and the world seemed to narrow to a single point.

Viktor.

His posture was composed and confident as ever. The low, warm light caught the angled lines of his face, and his eyes were already fixed on you. Your pulse quickened as he began making his way across the room. He moved with deliberate grace, the tap of his cane almost rhythmic against the polished floor.

You swallowed, willing yourself to remain composed as he closed the distance between you. He looked every bit as devastating as you remembered—perhaps even more so after days of his absence.

When he reached you, he didn’t greet you with words right away. His eyes swept over you, lingering as though taking in every detail.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” you said, your voice carefully steady despite the racing of your pulse.

“Plans changed,” he replied smoothly. “We caught an earlier flight.”

“And Jayce?”

“Jetlag,” Viktor said with a shrug. “He went home. I thought I’d make better use of my time.”

His tone was calm, his words innocent enough, but the way his gaze dipped to your lips and then back to your eyes betrayed the true intent behind his presence.

“You didn’t have to come.”

His brow arched, and he tilted his head slightly. “And miss seeing you command a room like this? Never.”

Your cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, but you quickly diverted the conversation, gesturing toward the artwork nearby. “Here for the paintings, then?”

“Here for you,” he corrected, his tone sending a shiver across your skin.

Before you could respond, a passing guest offered a polite nod, drawing your attention away just long enough for Viktor to step closer, wrapping an arm around you in what seemed like a polite, casual embrace. 

To anyone watching, it was nothing out of the ordinary—a perfectly respectful greeting. But as his arm pressed against your back, his fingers slid lower, tracing a line down your spine. The movement was slow, deliberate, and his fingertips dipped just beneath the waistband of your skirt. You held your breath.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” he said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of control and amusement. 

But before he fully stepped back, his lips brushed near your ear, his breath balmy against your skin. “I missed you,” he murmured. “Malá hvězda…”

Little Star—he’d first called you that in passing, after Jayce had teased you about becoming a celebrity in your field. It had been a lighthearted comment, a playful quip that Viktor had picked up on. But over time, it stuck and became something far more intimate. 

As the evening wore on, you felt the weight of his gaze wherever you moved. Whether you were explaining a piece to a potential buyer or exchanging pleasantries with a collector, you were keenly aware of him in your peripherals. He never lingered too close, always giving you space to work, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

By the time the gallery emptied, you felt wrung out—by the crowd, by the evening, but mostly by him. The cab ride was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the driver’s radio. You sat beside Viktor, close but not touching, though the air between you felt suffocatingly warm. Every bump in the road jostled you, and every brush of his leg against yours set your nerves fraying.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression was maddeningly calm, almost unreadable. He leaned back against the seat, one hand resting on the door, the other draped casually over his knee. But his eyes—his eyes betrayed him.

Dark and glinting, they flicked to you, and the corner of his mouth twitched, the barest hint of amusement at your visible tension.

The driver spoke up, asking Viktor something about the best route, and he replied smoothly in that light, accented voice that had been driving you mad all night. You caught his profile in the dim light—sharp lines and soft lips—and you had to look away, your nails digging into the edge of your seat.

“Are you always this restless?” he murmured suddenly, his tone pitched low enough for only you to hear.

You swallowed, the flush creeping up your neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His smirk was a flash of teeth, quick and dangerous. He shifted, his leg pressing more deliberately against yours, the subtle movement enough to make your pulse skip.

“I think you do,” he said, his voice almost teasing. He let his hand drop to the seat between you, his knuckles brushing your thigh. It sent a jolt through you.

You shot him a look, your jaw tightening as you leaned slightly closer, your voice a low hiss. “Do you ever get tired of your games?”

His gaze flicked to your lips before dragging slowly back to your eyes. “Not when I’m winning.”

Before you could reply, the cab took a sharp turn, throwing you slightly off balance. His hand caught your leg to steady you, firm and sure. He didn’t let go.

Instead, in the shadows of the backseat, his fingers slid upwards, the warmth of his palm scorching through the fabric of your stockings. You sucked in a breath, barely audible over the noise of the engine, but your heart raced.

His pinky finger grazed the edge of your underwear, teasing the barest edge of lace. The movement was deliberate, slow, and utterly torturous. He kept his eyes forward, his expression calm, as if nothing were happening.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you pressed your knees together instinctively, but his hand didn’t budge. His thumb stroked a slow, lazy line against your inner thigh, just shy of the place you needed him most, and it was all you could do not to squirm.

When the cab slowed at a red light, he leaned in, his breath brushing hot against your ear. “Careful, malá hvězda,” he whispered, his voice a dark, velvet tease. “We wouldn’t want the driver to notice, would we?”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. He finally withdrew his hand, the loss both a relief and an ache.

The cab rolled to a stop in front of your apartment building, and you practically bolted out, desperate for the cool night air to calm your overheated skin. Viktor was right behind you, but you didn’t dare look back at him.

The elevator ride up felt like an eternity. Each passing floor seemed to stretch on longer than the last, the tension between you thickening with every second. Viktor didn’t help. He stood next to you, but the air around him seemed to thrum with barely contained desire. His once teasing touches were growing bolder, and his breath seemed to waver every time he ebbed closer, his body pressing into yours ever so slightly. The subtle shift in his posture was enough to let you know just how much he was also losing control, how much he wanted you.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and your apartment was only a few steps away. You barely made it to the door before he was there, crowding you against the frame. His fingers slipped from your arm to your waist, tugging you closer, pulling you in with an urgency that sent a shiver through your entire body.

The key turned in the lock, and you barely had time to step inside before Viktor followed, the door closing behind him with an almost predatory click. In one swift movement, he had you pressed against the wall, cane clacking to the floor and his lips on yours. There was no hesitation now—no games, no teasing.

His mouth was hot, claiming, and you couldn’t help but respond in tandem, body arching into his. 

“Its been too long," he practically purred against your clavicle, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your core.

"Too long," you agreed, though the words came out hoarse, breaking into a soft whimper as his teeth nipped at your skin.

The sharp edge of his bite was quickly soothed by his tongue, a slow sweep that had your knees threatening to give way. His hands slid under your shirt, fingers skimming over your bare skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He groaned softly, his breath warm against your neck when his hips pressed into yours, a deliberate grind that stole the air from your lungs. Your hands weren't idle, either, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. 

Your fingertips dragged over the expanse of his chest, and the subtle hitch in his breath sent a rush of satisfaction through you. His lips never left your skin, trailing fiery kisses along the column of your throat as his fingers tugged your shirt up and over your head, discarding it without a second thought.

He took a moment to drink you in, his amber eyes dark with desire, before his hands were on you again, possessive and unyielding. With a sudden shift, his grip tightened around your waist, and before you could react, he spun you around. The cool press of the wall against your chest was sudden as he caged you in.

His fingers traced the curve of your back, then moved to the clasp of your bra, sliding it from your shoulders.

"Viktor," you breathed, your voice shaky with anticipation as his hands roamed over your now-bare skin, pinching your nipples and mapping every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

Your hips moved instinctively, grinding back into the rigid buldge of his slacks seeking out friction. His low, guttural groan in response sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core, surely staining your panties. His touch, ever restless, slid down your sides and found its way to your thighs, the rough glide of his palms pulling your skirt up around your waist.

The cool air of the apartment prickled your skin as he moved and his fingers curled around the delicate fabric of your stockings. A sharp, audible tear filled the room as his impatience got the better of him, the fragile material giving way beneath his touch. The sound was quickly accompanied by a gasp from you, although it was too late to protest as his hand slid over the bare skin of your ass, his touch unapologetic.

“I'll buy you a new pair.”

His tone was sharp, yet quickly drowned out by the metallic clinking of his belt buckle. It was a wonder you'd made it this long, your head practically swimming, knees trembling as his slacks hit the floor. You wanted to see him, craning your neck in a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of the body you'd been craving for a week and a half, but he was quicker. 

His grip found the nape of your neck, pushing your cheek back against the drywall while his other hand snaked its way between your legs. A mewl escaped you as those same slender fingers pulled the now sticky lace to the side, wasting no time proding your entrance before pushing two digits inside. Your eyes squeezed shut and you heard him exhale, clearly satisfied with the way your greedy walls practically sucked him in. His fingers flexed, curling a few times in a weak attempt to stretch you out and earning a few muffled whimpers from your shaky form. 

“Please-” it was all you could manage, squirming under his hold, feeble hands reaching blindly for him. 

He was certainly in no place to deny you, especially not as his cock grew angrier by the second, flushed and leaking with precum. When he retracted his fingers it was audible, a squelch that made his mouth water, but there was no time. His hand left your nape, moving to the base of your spine to coax you into a deeper arch and you eagerly obliged while he lined himself up. 

That first languid roll of his hips was pure bliss, the slight burn as his cock stretched you out left you slack-jawed and all the time apart was suddenly forgotten, instantly fucked out of your brain. Viktor was no more immune, a whiney moan tumbling from his mouth as you clenched around him. It was clear neither of you would last very long when the energy quickly became feverish, all semblance of control lost with hips desperately rutting together as pleasure seared its way through every nerve in your body. 

This time when you craned your neck towards him, he relented. His body pushed impossibly closer, chest flush against your back while a possessive hand caught your jaw, reeling you in for an open mouthed kiss. It was messy and unrestrained, his hips never slowing. 

“I missed you-” It fell past your lips into his mouth before you could stop it. 

There was a tiny stutter in his rhythm, almost unnoticeable as his brows pulled together in surprise. It was out of character for you to say such things, raw and unguarded, but tonight felt different— like the time apart had stripped away your defences. 

His grip on your jaw tightened, firm but not cruel, just enough to remind you who was in control. A tiny smirk of satisfaction crept onto his mouth as he pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “I missed you.”

The sincerity of the moment cut through the heat just for a second before his lips were on yours again. This kiss felt deeper, more deliberate as his free hand skidded down your stomach before landing between your legs. You broke from the kiss with a shaky moan, head falling forward against the wall as he began smooth circles over your neglected clit. His lips trailed the crux of your jaw, down the back of your neck as his movements became rougher. He ignored the pain threatening his leg, breath heavy and uneven as he bit on the curve of your shoulder, his own wanton moans vibrating off your skin.

You could feel your orgasm creeping in, white hot and consuming in the pit of your stomach. The dual sensation of his hips grinding against yours and the quick motions of his wrist between your thighs had your vision blurring at the edges. As if he sensed it, he adjusted his angle, moving deeper and more intentional. His focus was now singular, chasing every reaction you gave him, determined to push you to your limits.

Your body contorted into his, a ragged cry escaping you as the tension coil in you tightened. He grunted lowly against your shoulder, his own voice taking on a wobble as his own orgasm loomed not far behind. 

“Let go for me”

It was all you needed to tip over the edge, toes curling and your body going rigid in his grasp as pleasure rolled over you in unrelenting waves. The sounds spilling from your lips were downright shameless, and you were certain your neighbors would despise you for it.

Viktor wasn't far behind, his rhythm faltering as he chased his release. His hips stuttered against yours, a broken groan tearing from his throat as he came, your body greedily pulling him deeper and milking him for every last bit. His body slumped against yours, both of you trembling, a tangle of shaky limbs held upright only by the support of the wall.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing before Viktor straightened up, gently slipping out of you. The absence of his touch left a lingering ache, but as you turned to face him, the sight of his disheveled hair, the sheen of sweat on his skin, and the smirk tugging at his lips had you smiling—soft, dazed, completely spent.

You laughed softly, a breathless sound, leaning against the wall for support. He chuckled in return, winded but fond, before stepping closer to cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze softening as he drew you into another kiss.

This one was different. Slower. Softer. As always. That was the first time you let him stay the night.

The next morning, you woke to a tangle of sheets and the soreness of a night well-spent. Viktor was still sleeping soundly beside you, his face half-buried in your comforter, dark lashes fanning against his cheek. He looked so peaceful that it made your chest ache. A sharp knock at the door pulled you from your leering. Groaning softly, you slipped out of bed, throwing on a robe and tying it hastily. The moment you swung the door open your heart nearly stopped.

“Morning,” Jayce greeted brightly, a fast-food bag in hand. Before you could say a word, he stepped inside as if he owned the place. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by. Thought I’d bring you breakfast.”

Your stomach flipped in panic as you quickly moved to block his path, though he was already surveying the room with his usual casual ease.

“Jayce, uh, now’s not really—”

He stopped mid-step, his brow furrowing as his gaze landed on the floor. His lips parted slightly, confusion flickering over his features.

“Is that… Viktor’s cane?”

©lilsworks 2024

Taglist: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @thatlittlered @itsjustbell @sseleniaa @theepitomeofswag @jupiteress @rattini @milwaukeeslush @catedunlapgodu @worldseer

[vi-artz5]

cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels cant cath feels

[cresent2003]

Benefits

Nate Hardy x Fem! Reader

Unedited

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

It was late as Hazel sat in bed on her phone as her nightgown did very little to cover her most vunrible areas.

She was restless after doing Zoom meetings for most of her day.

Her anxiety was suffocating her as she watched a funny animals compilation on YouTube.

She laughed at the video as she faintly heard Nate in the room next to her.

She hadn't spoken to him a lot recently as she truly never had time to.

She was constantly working and that alone left her frustrated.

Hazel and Nate had been friends since high school.

It was a friendship no one expected as they were so different but something just clicked.

Their friendship had stayed the same until a year ago after Nate and Hazel hooked up after getting high in a hot tub.

It was only supposed to be one time and one of those things you forget about but it didn't work like that.

Before Hazel knew it there was a second time and then a third and then a fourth.

They stayed friends but did things friends didn't do.

Friends shouldn't know what spots make you see stats or what you taste like.

Hazel knew that but he made her loose herself.

He was like a drug and she was addicted.

Hazel continued watching the video before freezing as she heard groans and whimpering coming from Nate's room.

She paused her video thinking he somehow hurt himself before hearing her name.

Was he...?

He couldn't be.

She continued to listen before hearing him let out a breathy moan.

She squeezed her thighs together as she played her video as she tried to ignore what he was doing.

She tried to distract herself with her video but that didn't last long.

Suddenly she caught herself walking to his room.

She knew it was wrong but she couldn't stop herself as she knocked on his door.

She waited before watching the door open revealing Nate.

He wasn't wearing anything but a towel that hung low on his hips revealing his v-line.

"What's up?" he asked as he tried not to notice how her nipples were poking from her silk nightgown.

"Nothing um im restless as I was wondering if maybe you wanted to watch a movie with me" She was horrible at lying as she noticed his dick poking out of the confines of his towel.

"A movie?" he asked.

"Yep.

Why else would I come visit you this late?" she said.

"I could think of a few reasons" he said as he licked his lips.

She blushed befyre clearing her throat.

"Why are you really here?" he asked.

She looked at him "I already told you" she said.

He caressed her face "Your body is saying something different" he said befyre kissing her as her to take a large breath.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss got more heated.

He placed his hands on her ass causing her nightgown to lift up.

He pulled her into his room and shut the door before kissing her neck.

Hazel moaned as she ripped off his towel leaving him fully exposed.

He chuckled darkly against her neck before biting down causing her to gasp.

"You like that?" he asked.

She nodded as he licked the blood oozing out of the bite.

"Nate please" she said.

"Be patient love" he said before taking off her nightgown leaving her fully naked.

"No panties.

Naughty girl" he said before lifting her up by her thighs.

Her head fell back as he left marks on her bare chest.

He had fucked her many times yet each time felt like their first time.

She pulled on his hair as his facial hair scratched against her nipples.

He threw her onto the bed before taking a second to look at her.

"Fuck.

The things you do to me baby" he said before grabbing her ankles.

He dragged her down the bed before spreading her legs revealing her soaked pussy.

He groaned "Such a pretty pussy and it's all mine" he said before kissing her inner thighs causing her back to arch.

"Please Nate.

I need you so bad" she said.

He throbbed from her words as he licked around her pussy teasing her.

Her breathing was getting heavier and heavier as he got closer to where she needed him the most.

He dragged his tongue up her pussy causing her to moan as her entire body shivered from the feeling.

"Good girl.

Keep making those pretty sounds for me" he said before licking and sucking on her clit.

Hazel grabbed his hair as her eyes rolled back.

"Nate oh my god," she said before moaning.

He looked up at her before slipping a finger inside her causing her back to arch.

No one could make her feel the way he did.

He watched her as he continued eating her out as he felt her warm walls while searching for that one spot that had her almost pass out.

Hazel tightened her grip on his hair as he added another finger before curling them causing her to moan loudly as she started to feel her release get closer.

"Nate" she moaned his name.

"I know baby.

Just let it happen" he said before licking her clit again.

She suddenly screamed out as she came on his fingers.

He rode her through her orgasm before kissing her abdomen.

"You've been oent up without me haven't you?" he asked.

"Yes," she said as she sat up.

"Want more?" he asked.

"You already know the answer to that" she said.

"Yeah but I like to hear you say it" he said as he rubbed her hips.

"Please Nate.

I want you to fuck me.

Please" she said.

"Who am I to deny you what you've been waiting for?" he said before climbing over her until they were making lustful eye contact.

He took his cock before running it up and down her folds causing her to hum with pleasure.

"I missed you" he said.

"Me too," she said as he rubbed his tip against her clit.

She moaned as he watched her closely.

He loved watching her face as he fucked her.

He loved seeing her face show how good he was making her feel.

"Please don't tease.

I need to feel you.

Nate please" she moaned.

He kissed her befyre biting her ear lobe "Anything for you" he whispered into her ear causing goosebumps to cover her skin.

He lined up to her entrance befyre pushing in causing her to moan.

She could feel all of him as there hips met.

She missed the feeling of being this close to him.

"You're so tight.

Relax love" he said before kissing her neck softly.

Hazel looked at the ceiling as her body slowly got used to having him inside her.

"Please move" she said.

Nate began to thrust as he stuffed his head into the crook of her neck as he moaned from how warm and soft she was.

She grabbed the sheets as Nate found a rhythm that left them both gasping.

"Nate" she moaned out his name before letting out a louder moan.

He looked at her before speeding up slightly causing her to let out a pleasure filled scream.

She couldn't form words as she dug her nails into his back causing him to groan as his muscles tensed above her.

He watched her face twist before looking directly into her eyes causing something to snap within him.

She kissed him before breaking from him as she screamed out.

"Right there fuck right there" she said.

Nate placed his forehead on hers as he keot hitting the same spot inside her.

"I'm gonna..." she said before moaning as talking became almost impossible.

She couldn't think straight as her abdomen git tighter and tighter before snapping.

She screamed out as she came on his cock.

He trained as she squeezed him.

He wasn't going to last long as he rode her through her orgasm.

Hazel then looked at him as his thrusts began to get sloppy.

"Cum inside" she said.

He looked at her before moaning.

Nate kept the same speed as he held her hips.

She watched him in awe as he a med into her as he shot cum deep inside her.

He then collapsed beside her as she looked at him.

"That was fun," she said before sitting up.

"Wait" he said.

"Stay here for the night" he said.

"Nate.

We shouldn't" she said as she looked at him.

"Why?

Our agreement never stopped you before" he said.

"Why are you getting mad?" she said as she looked at him with sad eyes.

"Because I've fallen in love with you ok.

I know we said we would never do that but you make me so fucking happy Hazel" he said.

She froze "When?" she asked.

"A month or two.

I thought I could brush it off and trust me I tried but every time you came to me so needy and beautiful I couldn't help but catch feelings.

We've been doing this for a year and a half Hazel.

You have to admit we stopped being just friends a while ago" he said.

She turned around as he sat up.

"I promised myself that I wouldn't fall for you because I didn't want to get just again.

I don't know what to do as a part of me shares those feelings but the other part well I don't know" she said.

He moved to her before kissing her.

She froze before melting into the kiss.

She had kissed him many times but this time it felt different.

It was full of love.

She broke from him before looking into his eyes "I think I've fallen for you as well" she said.

He smirked before kissing her again.

He then laid down with her and pulled the sheets over them.

Nate held her as she laid on his chest.

"Goodnight love" he said.

"Night," she said before smiling as she realised that tomorrow her best friend would be her boyfriend.

[badp1l0t]

Me bc me and a friend of mine just vented for like 1 and a half hours at 3 am and they actually cared abt my problems and did their best to help me (dw, i did the same and tried to help them with their mental health too <3)

<3 please dont hurt yourself in any way shape or form, u cant afford to damage the beautiful, pristine temple that your body is. We can’t lose the amazing work of art that you are. Just think of it this way: You’re a famous painting in an old, run-down museum. You are worth so much more than you actually think. <3

[im-not-a-l0ser]

I've been thinking about a FWB fic about Grace and Max. (Relax, it's Michie, I haven't suddenly changed) where Grace decides some sort of loophole, maybe that since Max isn't Christian, he isn't seen by God or some dumb shit.

But Max like... starts fantasing about Richie, because... well, he can't not have sex with her, he has a reputation to uphold! He never expected her to actually take up his advances, that was the whole point! But now, he's got to keep it up while he does, and he rabbit holes through boys.

Yeah, Max doesn't start with Richie. He goes through many of his team mates, celebrities, etc. when one day, he sees Richie getting changed or swimming or something, and he pops up first during his next meet-up with Grace.

Usually, the fantasy changes as it goes— and it still does, but... it's the same boy. It's always Richie.

Even the next time, Richie. And Richie, and Richie, and it's always Richie nowadays.

What happens when Grace finds out? Or Richie finds out? What happens when Max is forced to bond with Richie and begins to fear he could fall in love with him? After all, Richie would never go out with him with how he behaves now.

Will Max... change?

[hunzzzzz]

Tell me sweet little lies (Kendall Roy x OFC) Masterlist

Summary: Little does Kendall know that Diane, the woman he's falling for has a far more sinister purpose than just hooking up with him. Diane is a journalist, a skilled manipulator, and she is playing a dangerous game.

Her seduction was a calculated move, a carefully orchestrated plan to gain his trust and extract his deepest, darkest secrets. She is determined to expose him, to bring down the Roy empire which has wronged so many.

But amidst it all Diane gets lost in a whirlwind of lies, deceit and betrayal. Can she stay afloat or will it all catch up to her.

TW: mentions of abuse / lots of smut / angst

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

[imnotbitteranymore-imsyrupysweet]

My second attempt at a poem in russian. But i guess it's a poem in english too.

Title: Боролся, изнемогая, взял, разорвал в клочья и умер с улыбкой. - Struggling (fighting), exhausted, he took it, tore it to shreds, and died with a smile.

Простите меня, - Forgive me, за слабость, - for my weakness, судьбой, то есть. - fate, that is. Вот как идет история. - Here’s how the story goes. У вас идет кровь из носа. - Your nose is bleeding Пахнет так же сильно, как роза. - It smells as strongly as a rose. Так странно, отчаянно, люблю, - So strangely, desperately, in love, то есть, стоит стоит. - that is to say, It’s worth it. Такую дружбу не скоро забудешь. - This is friendship, one which you can’t soon forget. -- A.K.Rx

(ATM i am still using translation tools, i hope to get to the level of not needing them this year though.)