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julietsf1 · 2 days ago

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All is Fair in Love and Pastries - Kenan Yıldız x Reader

summary: She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel. (8k words)

content: serendipity, slight enemies-to-lovers, unexpected chemistry, teasing, fluff :)

AN: getting that real life inspo lmao I'm actually still going to Munich this weekend as my ticket is non refundable :') bet im gonna go shopping tho!! have a lovely day darlings <3

_______________________________________

I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, hoping—no, praying—for a notification. A single message. A carrier pigeon, even. Anything to prove that I hadn’t just imagined the last 5 months of my relationship.

Nothing.

Just the same empty screen, as quiet and indifferent as the man who swore he loved me five days ago.

I refreshed our chat anyway, like that would suddenly make a difference. Maybe my WiFi was acting up. Maybe he had texted, and the message was just... stuck in the digital abyss, waiting to be delivered.

Nope. Still nothing.

I sighed dramatically and flopped back onto my bed, holding my phone above me like it might suddenly start explaining itself.

It had been four days since my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Current ghost?—had last texted me. Four whole days. No explanation, no excuse, not even the cowardice of a half-assed breakup text.

Just... radio silence.

Besides the instagram stories of his friends, where he was seemingly having the time of his life clubbing and going to basketball matches.

The man who, less than a week ago, had been telling me he missed me so much, that he couldn’t wait to see me, had apparently decided I no longer existed.

Cool. Very cool.

I unlocked my phone and stared at my last message to him. A simple:

"What time are you picking me up from the airport <3"

Sent. Read. Ignored.

I clenched my jaw and rolled onto my stomach, glaring at my laptop screen where my non-refundable plane ticket sat in my email inbox. A round-trip flight from Nice to Munich, purchased in what I now recognized as the stupidest burst of romantic optimism I’d ever had.

What was I supposed to do now? Cancel? Waste the money and sit at home, marinating in my own heartbreak like some tragic rom-com protagonist?

Absolutely not.

He may have ghosted me, but I’d be damned if I let some spineless man ruin my weekend. If nothing else, I was going to Munich. I had been there quite often for him anyway; I can figure out town for myself. And if nothing else, I was going to eat overpriced pastries, wander through fancy boutiques, and romanticize the hell out of my heartbreak.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I packed my bags and boarded the plane with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own public execution.

…

Munich was cold, and I was hungry—a dangerous combination for my already fragile mood.

I had spent the last hour walking through Englischer Garten, trying to shake off the lingering irritation of being ghosted. Fresh air was supposed to be good for you, right? It was supposed to clear your head, restore balance, whatever.

Did it work?

Not even a little.

I even stopped by the Eisbachwelle, where wetsuit-clad lunatics flung themselves into freezing water, attempting to surf a man-made wave in the middle of the city. I lingered for a while, waiting for the sight of someone wiping out spectacularly to cheer me up. A little Schadenfreude, as the Germans call it.

But even that failed me.

A guy faceplanted so hard that his board smacked him in the ribs, and all I felt was secondhand embarrassment. Not a single drop of joy.

Which meant I had officially lost my edge.

I needed a reset. Something warm, salty, buttery, preferably in the shape of a large pretzel.

So when I spotted a small bakery stand in Marienplatz, I knew what had to be done.

There it was. The last Brezn.

Golden brown, perfectly crisp on the outside, still steaming slightly. It looked like a hug in food form. The kind of thing that could turn your entire day around, that could restore faith in humanity, that could—

A hand shot out at the same time as mine.

Before I could react, the pretzel thief had already handed over his cash, nodding a polite danke to the vendor as if he hadn't just robbed me blind in broad daylight.

I stood there, hand still hovering mid-air, fingers closing around absolutely nothing.

The guy—the criminal in question—didn’t even hesitate. He just took a bite, slow and deliberate, as if he were performing for a food commercial.

I should have just let it go. But I was cold, hungry, and, quite frankly, on the verge of snapping.

“Excuse me?” I said, my voice teetering dangerously close to customer service polite.

He finally turned toward me, mid-chew, like he hadn’t just committed culinary theft.

Up close, he was—unfortunately—pretty easy to look at. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features softened only slightly by a full head of thick, dark blonde hair. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in an expensive ad campaign, modeling watches he probably didn't even know how to read.

His gaze flicked down at me, scanning me with the casual arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for the last anything in his life.

“Problem?”

I crossed my arms. “You just stole my Brezn.”

He glanced down at it. Then, without even a hint of remorse, ripped off another piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, chewing. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You cut the line.”

He shrugged. “I don’t wait in lines.”

I squinted at him. “Oh, wow. That must be so difficult for you.”

“It is,” he replied, entirely serious, before popping another bite into his mouth.

I stared at him. He stared back.

This was a test from the universe.

“I think I deserve it more,” he said finally, still looking alarmingly relaxed about this whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” I deadpanned. “And why’s that?”

He licked a bit of salt off his thumb—unnecessarily slowly, might I add—before replying, “I’m barely ever home. Haven’t had one of these in months.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at the vendor like maybe—just maybe—there was another pretzel hiding in a secret stash somewhere. But no. This was it.

This stranger had not only taken the last Brezn but was now making a compelling case as to why he deserved it more.

I had two choices:

1. Accept defeat like a normal, functioning adult.

2. Die on this hill.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling particularly mature today.

“Well,” I said, shifting my weight onto one leg. “I actually had a really rough week. So if we’re doing the who deserves it more competition, I’m pretty sure I win.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for someone who had just ruined my day. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

“Let’s just say I’ve had a series of unfortunate events that have led me here, to this exact moment, where all I wanted—all I needed—was a Brezn.” I gestured toward the offending baked good, still clutched in his ridiculously nice hands. “And yet, here we are.”

He considered that for a moment, like he was actually entertaining the idea of handing it over.

Then, after a beat, he simply swallowed, dusted the salt from his fingers, and said, “Still not giving it to you.”

I blinked. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Probably,” he agreed, unbothered.

And then—because apparently, this interaction wasn’t infuriating enough—he shot me a quick smirk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

With my pretzel.

I watched his retreating figure, the back of his stupidly nice jacket, the annoyingly confident way he walked, and considered my life choices.

Maybe I should have just tripped him.

…

By the time I reached Jamal’s apartment, I had mostly let go of the pretzel theft.

Mostly.

Fine, not at all, but I was telling myself that because I refused to let some random bread bandit ruin my entire weekend.

I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Jamal Musiala—failed Raya date turned best mate.

We had met on the app ages ago, but within the first five minutes of real-life conversation, it was abundantly clear that we were better off as friends. No awkward tension, no will-they-won’t-they—just immediate sibling energy.

And when he heard about my spectacular disaster, he didn’t even hesitate.

"Cancel the hotel. My guest room is free. You’re staying with me."

Which was how I ended up here, standing in his doorway while he pulled me into a quick hug.

"Yo! Finally made it," he said, immediately pulling me into a hug.

"Survived another international flight," I sighed, stepping inside and already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

He grabbed my bag, tossing it near the door like it was his personal mission to make sure I did absolutely nothing for myself this weekend. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "Between the baby on the flight and some guy testing my patience on the streets of Munich, I was one bad moment away from throwing hands."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Define ‘testing your patience.’"

I waved a hand. "Eh, some random dickhead cut in front of me at a bakery. Took the last Brezn. Very tragic. Anyway, I’m over it now."

Jamal snorted. "You don’t sound over it."

"I’ve grown as a person," I said solemnly, grabbing the tea he handed me. "Anyway, enough about me. What’s new? Got any hot gossip?"

"Nothing as dramatic as your bread wars," he teased, settling into the chair across from me. "But I’m still reeling over the fact that you thought long-distance dating was a good idea."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my tea. "Alright, go on. Get it out of your system."

He smirked. "No, no, I just think it’s inspiring. You—who has approximately zero patience for time-wasters—thought dating someone five countries away was a solid plan."

I gave him a look. "It made sense at the time!"

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Did it?"

I groaned. "Yes! In theory, long-distance means built-in space. No pressure to see each other all the time, no risk of losing yourself in the relationship. You still get your own life. It’s all very mature, very evolved."

"Ah yes," he nodded seriously, "a relationship with absolutely no quality time. Revolutionary."

I ignored him. "It worked perfectly for me."

Jamal leaned forward, grinning. "I think you’re saying he just didn’t make you fall head over heels properly."

"I’m saying it was a noble experiment that failed," I corrected.

"You rationalize love like it’s a business deal," he said, shaking his head. "I bet you made a whole pros and cons list before agreeing to this relationship."

I pursed my lips.

Jamal’s eyes widened. "Oh my God. You did."

"It was a very casual list," I mumbled into my mug.

He threw his head back, cackling. "You’re mental."

I scowled. "Some of us like to make informed decisions, Jamal."

"And some of us," he grinned, "realize that love isn’t an investment portfolio. It just happens."

I squinted at him. "That sounds like something people say when they want me to shut up."

"That too," he admitted, still smirking. "Anyway, I invited a friend over for FIFA later—hope you don’t mind."

I waved a hand lazily. "No problem. I’m gonna take a long shower first anyway."

…

The shower did its job. By the time I stepped out, warm and wrapped in one of Jamal’s oversized hoodies, I felt lighter. Like maybe this weekend wasn’t a complete disaster. Maybe I could just enjoy being in Munich, enjoy my friend’s company, and ignore the nagging feeling that I had flown here for absolutely no reason.

Then I stepped into the living room.

And froze.

Because sitting on Jamal’s couch, controller in hand, was none other than the Brezn thief himself.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly slid on the hardwood floor.

He looked up at me mid-game, one hand casually flicking the joystick, the other resting against the back of the couch like he had all the time in the world. His dark blond waves were slightly damp, like he’d just showered too, and he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that looked unfairly good on him.

For a split second, I thought maybe the universe was punishing me. That this was some kind of elaborate karmic joke.

Then he grinned, slow and lazy.

“Oh,” he said, far too casually for my liking. “It’s you again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you following me?”

Jamal—completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the room—paused the game and looked between us. “Wait. You two already know each other?”

The man—who I now knew was not just some random bakery menace but an actual acquaintance of Jamal’s—stretched his arms out in front of him like he was completely at ease, shooting me a look that was somewhere between amused and smug.

“We met earlier,” he said, still grinning like he found this whole thing hilarious. “Had a little disagreement over a pretzel.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t call it a disagreement. More like an act of blatant food theft.”

Jamal let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God. You’re the Brezn guy?”

I turned to him, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“Oh, I’m on no one’s side,” Jamal said, still grinning. “I just can’t believe you’ve been ranting about this all evening, and it turns out it was Kenan.”

Kenan.

I turned back to him, my brain finally catching up. Kenan Yıldız. The name suddenly clicked into place. Juventus player. Young star. He had been on all the football news headlines lately, yet I hadn’t recognized him when we’d been too busy arguing over baked goods.

Kenan leaned back against the couch, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“If it helps,” he said, “I did think about giving it to you.”

I scoffed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Didn’t, though,” he added, eyes gleaming.

I inhaled sharply, mentally weighing the pros and cons of throwing a pillow at his head.

Jamal, meanwhile, was still thoroughly entertained. “Alright, alright. Before you two start a war in my living room, sit down. We’re playing FIFA.”

I dropped onto the couch, watching as he passed a controller to Kenan. “Oh, fantastic. I get to witness high-quality gameplay firsthand.”

Kenan barely glanced at me as he selected his team. “That sounded sarcastic.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s because it was.”

Jamal grinned. “You talk like you’ve seen him play before.”

I gestured toward the screen. "The evidence is right there. You haven’t even started playing, and I can already see the classic overconfidence."

Jamal burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I love this."

Kenan tilted his head slightly. “You think I’m bad at FIFA?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out. “I think you think you’re good, which is way worse.”

Jamal wheezed. “Mate, she’s calling you a fraud.”

Kenan finally smirked, something sharper in his expression now. “Alright then. Play me.”

I scoffed. “Why would I waste my time proving something I already know?”

Kenan handed me a controller. “Because I think you’re all talk.”

Jamal let out a low whistle. “Damn. You gonna let him say that?”

I squinted at Kenan, assessing. He looked too confident, too pleased with himself, like he had already decided I was going to lose.

Big mistake.

I stretched my arms, feigning boredom. "Fine. But when I win, you’re buying me a Brezn."

His grin widened. “Deal.”

Jamal leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, this is officially the most invested I’ve ever been in FIFA.”

The match started, and I quickly realized three things:

1. Kenan was as smug as humanly possible.

2. I was not as bad as he expected.

3. I was still losing.

“You sure you’ve played this before?” he teased, passing circles around my defense.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up.”

And then—he scored.

Jamal burst out laughing as I dramatically collapsed against the couch. “I’m going to throw this controller at your head.”

Kenan grinned. “You’re just mad because you’re losing.”

I exhaled, resetting. “Alright. I’m locked in now.”

Kenan smirked. “Oh? You weren’t trying before?”

“I was warming up.”

And then—I started to figure him out.

Kenan was good, but he was also comfortable. He played like someone who expected to win—which meant he wasn’t ready for surprises.

So I gave him one.

Instead of playing safe, I started forcing mistakes. Instead of predictable attacks, I threw reckless passes forward, sprinting onto them with zero hesitation.

And then—somehow, some way—I scored.

The room went silent.

Jamal’s eyes widened. “NO WAY.”

I shot up from the couch, genuinely thrilled, throwing my arms in the air like I had just won the World Cup. “LET’S GO!”

Kenan blinked at the screen, processing. “...Alright. That was decent.”

“DECENT?” I laughed. “That was incredible. That was a masterpiece. Someone call FIFA, that was the best goal of the year.”

Jamal was dying, doubled over in laughter. “She’s actually celebrating like she won the league.”

Kenan shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Jamal leaned toward him. “You good, man? I think she actually rattled you.”

Kenan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “One goal means nothing.”

I grinned. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You look stressed.”

Kenan didn’t even respond. He just restarted the match, jaw set, eyes focused.

And that’s when I realized—he actually cared.

I had gotten to him.

And that fact alone made my entire weekend.

The rest of the game was pure chaos. I spent the entire match talking, commentating my every move like I was a sports announcer, making Jamal cry with laughter while Kenan did his best to block me out.

And then—somehow, against all odds—I scored again.

Jamal fell to the floor. “SHE DID IT AGAIN.”

I jumped up, clapping my hands together, absolutely beaming. “Someone get the cameras! Someone call ESPN!”

Kenan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Jamal cackled. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Kenan looked at me then, properly looked, and for a split second, there was something undeniably fond in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile.

I flopped back down, grinning wildly. “Kenan, should I go pro?”

“You should retire while you’re ahead,” he muttered.

I smirked. “So you admit I’m ahead.”

Kenan sighed, picking up his drink. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Jamal wheezed. “Nah, man, you lost. Accept it.”

I stood up, stretching lazily. “I believe you owe me a Brezn, Yıldız.”

With a giggle, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a coke from the fridge, still riding the high of my victory.

Behind me, I heard Jamal got up, grabbing his phone. “Food’s almost here—I’ll go down and get it.”

The appartment was quiet now besides the sound of a controller being set down. A pause.

Then, Kenan’s voice, low and even.

“She’s unbearable.”

I grabbed a coke and turned around, only to find him already walking into the kitchen.

He moved with the kind of easy confidence that was impossible to ignore, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt slightly, like he had all the time in the world. I expected him to go for a drink himself, but he just leaned against the counter, watching me.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. You came in here to process your humiliating loss in private?”

His lips twitched. “I came in here to see if you’d finally crack and admit you got lucky.”

I scoffed, setting my drink down with dramatic emphasis. “Lucky? Oh, that’s cute. You think this was luck.”

Kenan tilted his head slightly, like he was really considering it. “Mmm. Either that, or you tricked me into underestimating you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Are you suggesting I played mind games with you?”

His eyes glinted with something just shy of admiration. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I smirked. “You’re right. I totally did. And I’d do it again.”

Kenan’s lips curled at the edges, like he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of admitting anything. But his gaze flickered—just for a second—down to my mouth before locking back onto my eyes.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but charged.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. “I’ll get you back for that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sure you will.”

Before he could respond, Jamal’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Food’s here!”

Kenan stepped back, running a hand through his hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on, winner. Let’s eat.”

I followed, my smirk still lingering.

For the first time all weekend, I felt genuinely good.

…

It had gotten late the night before. Later than expected.

Jamal had ordered food, we’d all ended up sitting around, eating, talking, and somehow, between full stomachs and heavy eyelids, Kenan had ended up crashing on the couch. It wasn’t planned—just one of those things that happened when the night stretched longer than you thought it would.

I had barely registered it at the time, already halfway asleep in Jamal’s guest room, but when I woke up the next morning and wandered into the living room, there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In all his six-foot-something, professional athlete, half-asleep glory.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, hair a mess of lazy curls, mouth slightly parted like he hadn’t fully re-entered consciousness yet.

I stared for a second too long, mostly because I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—soft around the edges, not smirking or arguing with me—before clearing my throat.

“You know, Jamal does have an actual guest room.”

Kenan didn’t move, just let out a low, sleep-roughened grumble that was probably a sentence in some language I didn’t speak.

I rolled my eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re alive in the next five minutes, feel free to come along.”

He was already pushing himself up onto his elbows, blinking like he wasn’t fully convinced the day had started yet. “Where’s Jamal?”

I grabbed my coat. “Still dead to the world.”

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Smart man.”

…

The café was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place that felt warm the second you walked in. The smell of fresh bread and espresso filled the air, and despite the morning chill outside, it was cozy, inviting, the kind of place people actually took their time in.

I relaxed a little the second I stepped inside.

Kenan scanned the space, hands in his pockets, taking it in like he was mentally scoring it. “Not bad.”

I scoffed. “Not bad? This is an elite breakfast spot.”

He smirked. “I’ll decide once I taste the food.”

I rolled my eyes but before I could continue defending my flawless café selection, I noticed a small interaction at the counter.

A barista—young, probably new—was clearly overwhelmed, trying to juggle too many things at once. She fumbled slightly with the coffee machine, hands moving fast, eyes flicking to the growing line like it was personally taunting her.

The businessman at the front, impatient and already checking his watch, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, is it always this slow?”

I didn’t mean to intervene.

It just kind of… happened.

I leaned slightly against the counter, offering a calm, easy smile.

“Take your time. It’s way too early for people to be this impatient.”

The words weren’t pointed, not really, but they carried just enough weight to cut through the tension.

The barista glanced at me, a flicker of relief in her expression before she nodded quickly and refocused on the drink in front of her.

The businessman, unimpressed, muttered something under his breath but dropped it, grabbing his coffee and stalking off.

Kenan, silent up until now, turned his head slightly toward me, like he was seeing me differently for the first time.

I ignored it, focusing back on the menu.

When we finally stepped up to order, the barista, still looking a little frazzled but better, managed a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured, adjusting her apron. “Some people are just…” She trailed off, rolling her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t quite find the right word.

“The worst?” I offered.

She laughed. “Yeah. That.”

Kenan was still watching me, but now there was something else behind it.

Something almost amused.

“So you do have the capacity to be nice,” he mused, smirking as we stepped aside to wait for our drinks. “Interesting.”

I scoffed, stirring a sugar packet between my fingers. “I am perfectly capable of being nice.”

Kenan raised a brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Mmm. Just not to me?”

“The barista never stole my pretzel.”

He let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head as if he almost respected the answer. “Fair point.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pleased with myself, but before I could gloat, the barista returned, sliding an extra croissant onto our tray.

“On the house,” she said with a grin. “For being nice.”

I shot her a bright smile, but that smile slightly fell when I turned back to Kenan, I caught him watching me.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just looking.

It wasn’t obvious, nothing overt or lingering enough to call attention to itself. But there was something there—something unreadable, like a thought passing through his mind before he could decide what to do with it.

I frowned. “What?”

Kenan blinked, shaking his head slightly like he was resetting his expression. “Nothing.”

I squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

He smirked. “And yet, you invited me to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I was feeling charitable.”

Kenan took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still flickering with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Lucky me.”

And for some reason, that sentence stayed with me longer than it should have.

…

The rest of the day, after dropping Jamal’s breakfast and Kenan went home, I was on a mission.

Enough sulking. Enough rehashing why I was even here. If I was going to spend a weekend away, I was going to make something of it—starting with the one thing that had never failed to lift my spirits.

Retail therapy.

Now, let’s be clear—I wasn’t the kind of person who regularly indulged in luxury shopping sprees. I was a firm believer in financial responsibility and splurging on sales.

But sometimes—just sometimes—a girl needed to treat herself.

I had no intention of actually buying anything.

But the moment I stepped inside Saint Laurent, something in me shifted.

Maybe it was the soft golden lighting, making everything look like it belonged in a dream. Maybe it was the quiet elegance of it all, the way the sales associates moved like they had all the secrets to life itself.

Or maybe, for the first time all week, I felt like I deserved something just for me.

I started with the handbags, lightly running my fingers over smooth leather and delicate gold clasps, trying to soak up the feeling of being in a place that felt so effortlessly put-together.

And then—I saw it.

It wasn’t a bag.

It was a dress.

Simple, timeless, and undeniably perfect.

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the fabric, wondering if I was allowed to try something this nice on.

Then a sales associate appeared, smiling warmly. “Would you like to see how it fits?”

I bit my lip, a little shy. “Oh, I was just—”

But then, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, I nodded. “Actually… yeah. Why not?”

And that was how it started.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

It hugged just right, elegant but effortless, like I’d just thrown it on and magically looked stunning. The kind of dress that didn’t need accessories or complicated styling. It just… worked.

I smoothed my hands over the fabric, twirling just slightly, inspecting every angle.

And for the first time all weekend, I actually smiled at my reflection.

The saleswoman clasped her hands together. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”

I exhaled, still staring at myself. “You’re very good at your job.”

She laughed. "You look stunning, dear."

I let out a small, giddy giggle, the kind I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. It felt nice, to like how I looked—to do something that was just for me, without a single ounce of guilt attached.

For once, I wasn’t overthinking it.

I wasn’t analyzing whether I should or shouldn’t.

I was just happy.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my chin and said, “I’ll take it.”

As I handed over my card, I thought about where I’d wear it.

Jamal’s match tonight. The VIP box.

And then, out of nowhere, another thought crept in—one I definitely didn’t mean to have.

What if Kenan sees me in this? Surely he would be there too.

The moment the thought fully registered, warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

I nearly choked on my own internal monologue.

I shook my head quickly, forcing down the blush before the saleswoman could notice.

I wasn’t buying this for him. Obviously. No. This was just for me.

…But if Kenan happened to see me in it, well.

That wasn’t my fault.

….

By the time I arrived at Allianz Arena, I felt genuinely lighter.

Maybe it was the crisp night air, the buzz of excitement in the crowd, or the fact that I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that I felt good in my new dress.

The stadium lights shone down as I made my way to the VIP section, clutching my pass. The energy inside was electric, fans already singing, the deep thrum of anticipation settling over the stands.

I stepped inside the box, scanning the seats for Jamal, when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.

Kenan stood next to me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his usual smirk firmly in place. The stadium lights did unfair things to his features, casting a warm glow over his already obnoxiously handsome face, and for a split second, I hated that he had the nerve to look like that in any setting.

His gaze flicked down ever so slightly, scanning my dress before he met my eyes again.

“You look good.”

I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Then, as if he could sense me registering the compliment too much, he added, “Unexpected, really.”

There it was.

I let out a scoff, placing a hand on my chest. “Oh my God, Kenan. That was almost a normal, genuine compliment. You must be exhausted.”

He hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Shame,” I teased. “I was really enjoying the moment.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “So, what brings you here? Finally expanding your horizons past FIFA?”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, I’m here for Jamal. Some of us support our friends.”

Kenan nodded slowly. “Mmm. And yet… you’re standing here, talking to me instead.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the stadium erupted in cheers, the players stepping onto the field.

I turned my attention to the match, trying to pretend I wasn’t slightly flustered.

Kenan, however, didn’t seem as interested in the game as he was in continuing his favorite pastime: annoying me for fun.

“So, be honest,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “You understand the rules of football, right?”

I gave him a dry look. “Wow. Incredible assumption. You see a woman at a match and immediately assume she doesn’t get it?”

Kenan grinned, unbothered. “No, I just see you at a match and assume you’re mostly here for the snacks.”

I gasped. “Excuse me, I am deeply invested in Jamal’s career.”

Kenan hummed, clearly not convinced. “Okay. What position does he play?”

I stared at him. “...Defense?”

Kenan smirked. “He’s a midfielder.”

I groaned, throwing my hands up. “Alright, whatever, I’m here for vibes and friendship. Sue me.”

Kenan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement.

For once, I didn’t feel annoyed by it.

I turned back to the field, taking in the sheer energy of the stadium, the rush of excitement that rippled through the crowd.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan watching me.

I glanced at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the match?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “I am.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in my stomach before I could stop it.

…

By the time the match ended, I was happily full of stadium energy but tragically underfed.

The VIP box had food, sure, but it was the kind of small, fancy bites that looked better than they tasted. You know, the kind that was supposed to be "elevated dining" but just made you angry and hungrier.

I popped another tiny canapé into my mouth and sighed dramatically.

Kenan, who had been watching me struggle with barely concealed amusement, finally smirked. “You’re starving.”

I turned to him, offended. “I am not starving.”

Kenan gestured lazily to the criminally small appetizer on my plate. “You just inhaled that in one bite.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I have a very refined palate.”

He snorted. “Right. That’s why you look physically betrayed after every bite.”

I sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

Kenan hummed like he was deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

“Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

He was already heading toward the exit, looking over his shoulder like it was obvious. “We’re getting food.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Kenan chuckled, his expression full of mischief. “Trust me, anything outside is an upgrade from whatever that was.”

I tilted my head. “And what if this is an elaborate scheme to lure me into a suspiciously empty street?”

His smirk deepened. “I’d like to think if I wanted you gone, I’d be more creative than that.”

I considered it. “That’s… unsettlingly fair.”

…

Kenan’s car smelled unfairly nice—not in an overwhelming, aggressively expensive way, but in that effortless ‘I have my life together’ way. It was all clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly fresh, like pine or citrus, the kind of scent that made you want to breathe a little deeper just to keep it around a second longer.

I did not breathe deeper.

Instead, I focused on the city outside, on the soft blur of streetlights streaking across the window as we drove through a quieter part of Munich. The streets were mostly empty, the chaos of match day behind us, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t feeling weighed down by my own thoughts.

I was full, I was warm, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about him.

And then, Kenan spoke.

“So.” His voice was casual, almost offhanded, like he wasn’t about to upend my peace. “You never actually said why you were in Munich.”

I blinked, looking away from the window. “What?”

He glanced at me briefly, his fingers drumming idly against the steering wheel before he turned back to the road. “You don’t seem like the type to just book a random flight for fun.”

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am very spontaneous.”

Kenan hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Right. And how many of these ‘totally random’ solo trips have you taken before?”

I opened my mouth. Paused. Frowned.

“…That’s not important.”

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re telling me you woke up one day and thought, Munich sounds nice?”

I huffed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Maybe I did.”

Kenan shot me a pointed look that said ‘I know you’re full of shit.’

I exhaled, shifting in my seat. “Fine. I was supposed to see someone.”

He didn’t react—just kept driving, waiting.

It was almost worse than if he had immediately jumped in with a question.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. “But, uh… turns out he didn’t feel like seeing me back. And I had the ticket booked already.”

The words felt… lighter now, like they didn’t hold the same weight as they did a few days ago. Maybe because I’d said them out loud before. Maybe because I wasn’t alone with them anymore.

Kenan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his jaw tightening for half a second before he spoke.

“Idiot.”

I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

His voice was even, casual, but the way he said it was too sure, too final. “The guy. He’s an idiot.”

I let out a small, surprised laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t even know him.”

Kenan didn’t hesitate. “Don’t have to.”

Something about his certainty made my stomach twist.

I licked my lips, choosing to ignore the warm feeling creeping into my chest. “You’re very confident in that assessment.”

Kenan finally glanced at me, just for a moment, then looked back at the road. “Yeah. I am.”

The air in the car felt different all of a sudden, not uncomfortable, but charged.

I opened my mouth, about to say something to break whatever this was, when—

Kenan reached into the backseat, grabbing something, and tossed a small paper bag into my lap.

I frowned down at it. “What’s this?”

Kenan kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. “Something I saw.”

I gave him a suspicious look before reaching inside.

The first thing I felt was something soft.

And when I pulled it out, I actually gasped.

It was a Jellycat plush.

But not just any Jellycat plush.

A pretzel-shaped one.

Ridiculously soft, golden brown with tiny embroidered salt flecks, its round body twisted into a perfect loop, like an adorable, carb-shaped hug.

I stared at it, completely thrown.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned to Kenan, wide-eyed. “You—” I stopped, shaking my head, too stunned to be normal about this. “You got me a Jellycat pretzel?”

Kenan shrugged, like this was completely normal behavior. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

I blinked down at my lap, still gripping the plush like it might disappear if I let go. “I—this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

Kenan smirked. “Wow. A rare moment.”

I ignored him, still reeling. “Wait. How did you—” My eyes narrowed as the realization hit. “Jamal.”

Kenan huffed a small laugh. “Jamal.”

I groaned, slumping back against my seat, embarrassed beyond belief. “I swear, he’s worse than an actual gossip column.”

“He told me the full pretzel tragedy while you were shopping this morning.” Kenan’s lips twitched. “Said you looked genuinely devastated when I took the last one.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “I was devastated.”

Kenan let out a real laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that impression. Little drama queen.”

I glanced back down at the plush, running my fingers over its ridiculously soft surface, warmth blooming in my chest for an entirely different reason now.

I swallowed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Kenan exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. “I know.”

There was a small pause, then—

“I wanted to. I like to see you smile”

I froze.

Just for a second.

It wasn’t even what he said.

It was how he said it. Like it was simple. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

I looked down at the Jellycat pretzel, tracing my thumb over one of the little embroidered salt flecks.

Kenan cleared his throat, like he wanted to move the conversation along before I got weird about it.

“I, uh—” He rubbed his jaw, focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t exactly smuggle a fresh one into the match, so I figured this would keep you warm in a different way.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening on the plush.

Somehow, slowly over the last few days, my heart stopped feeling so heavy.

I glanced at Kenan, and for once, he wasn’t watching me with his usual smirk or teasing expression.

He was just watching.

Like he was still trying to figure out why I looked so surprised.

Like he didn’t realize he had just completely disarmed me.

I turned back to the window, hiding my smile.

Kenan shifted in his seat, adjusting the air conditioning like he suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t started the drive back to Jamal’s.

Good. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.

…

I woke up earlier than expected, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, where the streets outside hummed quietly with the first stirrings of the city.

The apartment was still, save for the occasional distant sound—pipes groaning as someone used the shower, the soft buzz of an electric toothbrush in another room.

And then—

A loud "OH, COME ON!" followed by rapid button-mashing and what I could only assume was a FIFA-related disaster.

I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will myself back to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, my hand reached instinctively for something beside me, fingers brushing against—

Oh.

I cracked one eye open.

There, sitting right beside my pillow, was the Jellycat pretzel plush.

Warmth bloomed immediately in my chest, completely uninvited.

It had been exactly where I left it, tucked neatly beside me like some ridiculous comfort object. I had slept next to it. Like some sentimental idiot.

I exhaled sharply, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. “I’m losing it.”

Jamal’s distant FIFA agony continued in the other room.

I peeked at the plush again, this time reaching over to pick it up, squeezing it absently in my hands.

It was too soft. Too huggable. Too… thoughtful.

Kenan had really gone out of his way to find something like this. He had listened to Jamal’s retelling of my pretzel tragedy and then acted on it.

That thought alone did something weird to my stomach.

I needed to leave before I started reading into things.

After a long, slightly too-hot shower and a reluctant change into travel clothes, I zipped up my suitcase and walked into the living room, where Jamal was still intensely focused on FIFA.

“Morning,” I greeted, adjusting my bag strap.

Jamal barely looked up. “Yo. Ready for your flight?”

I nodded, shifting my weight. “Yeah, time to go back home. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He finally paused his game, stretching lazily. “No problem. You’re welcome to crash here whenever your love life implodes.”

I gasped, fake offended. “Excuse me, that was one time.”

Jamal smirked. “That was this time.”

I glared at him. “You’re very lucky I don’t have time to fight you about this.”

Jamal grinned, unpausing his game. “Safe flight, man. Oh—Kenan’s out front, by the way.”

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. “What?”

Jamal tilted his head toward the window. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

I blinked rapidly, my stomach flipping for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

Kenan was… waiting for me?

I didn’t even have time to process what that meant before my feet were already moving, slipping on my coat and heading for the door.

And sure enough—

When I stepped outside, there he was.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture completely at ease, like he had been there for a while and had all the time in the world.

The moment he saw me, his lips curved into a smirk, like he had been expecting me to be surprised.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if he had any reason to assume I wouldn’t be.

I scoffed, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kenan shrugged. “Driving you to the airport.”

I blinked. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, amused by my confusion. “What, you thought I’d let you navigate Munich public transport with a suitcase?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was literally just going to call an Uber.”

Kenan rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “That’s boring.”

I stared at him, the weight of this entire situation settling into my brain.

Kenan—who had no reason to be here—had woken up, driven across the city, and was now waiting for me outside, completely unbothered, like this was just something he did.

I adjusted my coat, voice quieter. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Kenan looked at me like I had just said something profoundly stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So instead of overanalyzing it to death, I just sighed, adjusting my bag.

“Fine. Let’s go.

…

When we finally pulled up to the departures area, Kenan shifted into park, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, suddenly feeling like this was weirdly… final.

Like leaving now meant returning to normal.

And for some reason, I wasn’t ready for that.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say… something.

But before I could, Kenan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A tiny bag of pretzels.

I blinked, thrown completely off guard. “You—”

Kenan smirked, holding it out toward me. “Figured you might need some snacks for the flight.”

I stared at him, something warm creeping into my chest before I could stop it.

I took the bag, shaking my head. “You’re trying to buy my goodwill?”

He leaned back against the seat. “You love it.”

I scoffed, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Debatable.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked to my carry-on, and before I could register what he was about to say, his smirk deepened slightly.

“Did you pack the Jellycat?”

My face immediately heated up.

I opened my mouth—to lie, obviously—but Kenan just let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You did.”

I huffed. “No comment.”

Kenan’s lips twitched. “Good. It means my plan worked.”

I frowned. “Plan?”

He nodded toward the plush peeking slightly from the top of my bag. “Now you have to think about me every time you see it.”

My brain short-circuited.

I had no response to that.

I huffed, adjusting my bag. “Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

Kenan nodded once, casual as ever. “See you around.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I turned back to him one last time.

And said, without thinking:

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Kenan’s smirk was slow, lazy, and way too confident.

“No promises.”

I stared at him, my brain doing at least fifteen flips, before turning on my heel and walking inside before I could make this worse for myself.

I had no idea what had just happened.

All I knew was that my face was burning, and I was smiling like an idiot.

…

Back home, everything was exactly as I had left it.

The same apartment, the same slightly-too-loud coffee machine sputtering in protest before coming to life, the same half-empty fridge reminding me that I should really start grocery shopping like an adult.

Everything had resumed as normal.

And yet—

I found myself standing in my bedroom, suitcase still half-unpacked, as if some part of me refused to fully settle back into my routine. My fingers ran absentmindedly over the plush pretzel sitting on my bed, its soft, squishy loops an absurd but strangely comforting reminder of the past weekend.

I wasn’t supposed to still be thinking about him.

I wasn’t supposed to be replaying conversations in my head, breaking apart the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, the small shifts in his expression, the casual, almost careless way he had handed me that bag with the Jellycat and the pretzel, as if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the plush against my chest like it was somehow responsible for all of this.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered at it.

Unsurprisingly, the Jellycat did not have a response.

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow, as if that would somehow smother my thoughts into submission.

This was ridiculous.

I was being ridiculous.

I had gone to Munich with a very specific reason—to see someone who had ultimately proved to be unworthy of my time. But somehow, I had left with something else entirely.

A new inside joke. A new routine. A new, completely inconvenient way my stomach flipped whenever I got a text notification.

Which was precisely why I should not have reached for my phone just now.

But I did.

And when I turned it over—

There it was.

A new message.

From Kenan.

I hesitated for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen, already knowing that whatever it said would only make things worse for me.

Then, finally, I clicked it open.

Kenan: Buy a nice winter coat.

I frowned, sitting up slightly as I typed back.

Me: Why?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to answer.

Kenan: I’m playing in the Netherlands next Wednesday.

Another message followed before I even had time to process the first.

Kenan: I need you to see how much better I am than Jamal, obviously.

I stared at my screen, my heart doing a very, very inconvenient thing, something warm and fluttery and deeply annoying settling into my chest.

I didn’t respond right away.

Because I already knew what I was going to do.

I was going.

#kenan yıldız fanfic #kenan yildiz oneshot #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yıldız #kenan yildiz x you #kenan yildiz fanfic #football oneshot

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sturniololuvz · 22 hours ago

Note

you should do a fic where the triplets haven't gone into her room for weeks so she didn't think anything of leaving (a vape, alcohol, weed. you decide!) out because she didn't think they would find it but one of the boys walks into her room to look for something and sees it. maybe an argument and she leaves??

okayyyy!

“Found Out”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : vape, yelling

Y/N had gotten comfortable—too comfortable. The triplets barely ever came into her room, so she stopped worrying about hiding things. It had been weeks, maybe even months, since any of them had just walked in unannounced. So when she tossed her vape onto her nightstand earlier, she hadn’t thought twice about it.

She should have.

Because now, standing in the doorway of her room, was Nick. And in his hand? The very thing she swore they’d never find.

His face was unreadable at first—stunned, maybe, or just processing. Then his expression hardened, and Y/N could see the anger bubbling up.

“What the hell is this?” His voice was eerily calm, and that was worse than him yelling.

Y/N’s stomach dropped, but she forced herself to stay composed. “Nothing,” she muttered, reaching for it.

Nick pulled it back before she could grab it. “No, no, this isn’t nothing, Y/N.”

Her jaw clenched. “Give it back.”

Nick scoffed, shaking his head. “Are you serious right now?” He looked down at the vape in his hand, then back at her. “Since when do you do this shit?”

“Since when do you care?” Y/N shot back, crossing her arms.

Nick’s eyes darkened. “Excuse me?”

“You guys don’t even come in here anymore,” she snapped. “I didn’t think you’d ever notice.”

Nick let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “So that makes it okay? That makes it fine?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “It’s not a big deal, Nick. Everyone does it.”

“Not in this house.” His voice was sharp now, full of anger and something else—disappointment.

Y/N hated that. She could handle him being mad. But disappointed? That stung.

“You’re not Mom or Dad,” she muttered.

Nick’s jaw tightened. “Yeah? Well, they’re not here, so someone has to give a shit.”

That was it. That was the sentence that set her off.

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t!” she snapped. “You don’t get to act all protective now when you’ve barely even talked to me for weeks!”

Nick stepped back like she had physically hit him. “That’s not fair,” he muttered.

“Neither is you acting like I’m some little kid who needs saving.”

Silence filled the room. The tension was suffocating.

Then Y/N grabbed her phone and shoved past him, ignoring the way he called after her. She didn’t care where she was going—she just needed to leave.

20 minutes later.

Chris and Matt were in the living room when Nick stormed down the stairs, looking pissed.

Chris sat up. “Uh… what’s going on?”

Nick tossed the vape onto the coffee table. “Ask Y/N.”

Matt’s face fell. “Oh shit.”

Chris groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. “Where is she?”

Nick clenched his jaw. “She left.”

Silence. Then—

Matt sighed. “Guess we’re going after her.”

Chris, Matt, and Nick were in the car within minutes, the tension thick enough to choke on. The engine hummed as Matt drove through the dark streets, all three of them scanning the sidewalks for any sign of Y/N.

Nick sat in the passenger seat, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles were white. “She’s not answering.” His voice was clipped, frustrated, but there was a layer of guilt underneath it.

“Maybe because you pissed her off,” Chris muttered from the backseat, arms crossed.

Nick shot him a glare through the rearview mirror. “Are you serious right now?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Yeah, actually, I am. You can’t just find her shit, freak out, and then act surprised when she runs off.”

“Bro, it was a vape.”

“Yeah? And you think yelling at her was gonna make her stop?”

Nick opened his mouth to argue but shut it just as fast. Because deep down, he knew Chris had a point. He had let his emotions take over, let the fear and frustration twist his words. And now Y/N was gone.

Matt, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly pointed. “There. That’s her.”

On the sidewalk, sitting on the curb with her arms wrapped around her knees, was Y/N.

Matt pulled over, and before the car had even fully stopped, Nick was already getting out.

Y/N barely glanced up when she heard footsteps approaching. “Go away,” she mumbled.

Nick sat down next to her, ignoring the cold pavement. “No.”

Chris and Matt stood back, giving them space but still close enough to step in if needed.

For a moment, neither Nick nor Y/N spoke. The only sound was the occasional whoosh of passing cars.

Then, quietly, Nick sighed. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that.”

Y/N scoffed. “Sure seemed like you did.”

Nick stared at the ground. “I was just… shocked. And scared.” He turned to look at her. “I’m not trying to control you. I just—” He let out a breath. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the fabric of her hoodie. “You wouldn’t,” she muttered, but her voice wavered.

Nick gently nudged her shoulder. “You say that, but I know what this kind of shit can lead to.” His voice was softer now, raw. “And I don’t ever want to see you go down that road. You mean too much to me. To us.”

She sniffled, wiping her sleeve across her face. “You guys haven’t even been around that much.”

Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. And that’s on us. But that doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

Chris and Matt took that as their cue to come over.

“Yeah, dumbass,” Chris said, plopping down on her other side. “You could ignore us for months, and we’d still be annoying as hell trying to check in on you.”

Matt crouched in front of her, resting his arms on his knees. “You don’t have to hide things from us, Y/N. If you’re struggling, just talk to us.”

Y/N swallowed hard, looking between them. “I don’t know how.”

Nick put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Then we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

She hesitated before finally nodding, melting into his side.

Chris sighed dramatically. “Alright, now that the emotional shit is out of the way—can we go home? It’s freezing.”

Y/N let out a quiet laugh, the first one in what felt like forever.

Nick ruffled her hair. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

And this time, she didn’t run.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #stur #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sister sturniolo #se

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maritiart · 22 days ago

Text

scarian wip

two separate images so you can’t see how much I hate rendering

#guys i have the sat and act in like. a month.#and I’m spending all my time drawing gay dudes dancing in circles #am I cooked?#scarian #hermitblr #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #desert duo #should I make grian less of a twink #gtws fanart #grian fanart

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 1 month ago

Text

women in male fields

fratboy!jaehyun x reader

summary: you’re fully aware you’re dating a reformed fuckboy/fratiest fratboy to exist but that doesn’t mean he can get away with acting like a douche without a taste of his own medicine… OR the 3 times sweetheart finds herself acting like a fuckboy and the 1 time Jaehyun calls her out

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol, Americanized college described (l'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart, sweet girl) in order to avoid using y/n, Imk if I missed anything!

a/n: there was something completely magical in my Chili’s triple dipper because I sat down and pounded this out for 4 hours with minimal breaks! I’d had this idea for a while but figured I’d get it out before everyone forgot about the #womeninmalefields TikTok trend. Feedback is appreciated!

Timeline-wise let’s say this is about 4-6 months into Jae and Sweetheart being a couple

This story is a part of my fratboy!Jaehyun universe!

dividers from cafekitsune

You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Jung Jaehyun, one of the most fratboy fratboys to ever exist. You had been around for the parties, for the handful of nights where he overdid it and got sick, countless nights of standing by to watch him play beer pong, no dates on Sunday evenings because of frat meetings, and a couple philanthropic events. You were used to a lot of it by now.

But your boyfriend had adapted himself so well to this role that you honestly kind of hated some of his behaviors. He had changed some habits, of course. He was no longer the fuckboy fratboy that slept around, no, he was committed to you and you alone. He made some effort into being romantic which took some work since his idea of romance was sending you a daily Snapchat for your streak with a red heart. Gross. Now, he got you flowers occasionally and your favorite snacks. His room used to be an absolute pigsty and now he at the very least he shoved his mess under the bed so you didn’t see.

Then there were some habits that didn’t change and you were tired of them. Beyond tired of them. You were tired of him passively listening, barely paying attention to you, being kind of an asshole, and just being a gross guy. So you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he could do all these things and you could still like him, why wouldn't he still like you?

It had started when you texted Jaehyun on a Thursday afternoon and he didn’t respond until Saturday afternoon. It had been nothing urgent, but you were still annoyed. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. In fact, it was a horrible habit of his. He started a conversation or read a text you sent and just never responded. You knew now, based on experience and the other guys telling you, that Jaehyun sucked at texting. He would still post on Instagram or Snapchat, posting various athletes like they were his friends and promoting frat activities like normal. It was almost like he forgot that the primary function of a phone was to communicate. Good thing he was pretty!

It didn’t make it any less annoying that your boyfriend didn't care to change this habit for you though, so when he finally texted you back, you decided to give him the same treatment. Saturday came to an end and you didn’t text back. Sunday was the same and so was Monday. He texted you countless times, so many questions, random updates on his day, and asking you if you were ok or if he should send help to your dorm. So when you knocked on the door Tuesday afternoon scrolling on your phone when Jaehyun opened the door. It was pretty safe to say he was pretty confused.

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer any of my texts,” Jaehyun asked while he led the two of you upstairs.

You hummed noncommittally, your eyes not leaving the screen of your phone, “oh yeah, my phone broke. My bad.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue, ready to tell you that he had seen you posting on your stories, your phone didn’t look new, and he had heard you on FaceTime with Haechan just yesterday. That you were literally scrolling through Instagram when he opened the door, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled you into his arms, and pulled up the most recent episode of one of your shows.

He couldn’t really complain if you were here with him now, right? You were in his bed, in his arms, laying on his chest. Everything was fine. A few days of no contact was normal and you both had a good enough relationship where it shouldn’t bother him, right? But it did…

The next time Jaehyun pissed you off was just a week later. He had proven to be a little extra clingy after his punishment of silence and that was good enough for you. It had been enough to hold you off with some of his, less than perfect behavior, until the next time he messed up. Sure, enough it was just 7 days later when he acted stupid again. And it was time for him to learn again. Sometimes he just had to learn to not do something by doing it and learning the consequences. Like a child… or a pet.

Jaehyun had had a stressful week. You knew that, he had told you about it the last time you saw him just yesterday, so you did feel kinda bad for deciding to pull this out of your sleeve now. How was he going to learn if you never tried to fix it though?

Jaehyun was pacing around his room, running a hand down his face and staring at the email that basically told him nothing from their partner sorority. He was social chair, so he was in charge of planning mixers. That’s exactly what he was trying to do! But the Kappa social chair was either knowingly being a pain in the ass or just naturally was a pain in the ass. How was it useful for Jaehyun to know when a handful of sisters all had an astronomy class?! Why did that matter when he was asking her to choose from a handful of dates he’d already chosen?!

Not only was this sorority social chair being annoying, Taeyong had been on his ass to plan some kind of sponsored philanthropic event, but everyone Nu Chi had worked with previously was being so difficult! No one was returning a single one of his emails, he spent his afternoons on hold or making calls, and just getting in contact with new companies and vendors just took so much effort. He currently had one sponsor, which was fine, whatever. But nothing Nu Chi Theta did while Jaehyun was social chair was ever just fine. Fine was acceptable for Alpha Sig’s but not for Nu Chi’s. He would need at least two more sponsors to reach the level of finery he was used to working with.

So that’s what Jaehyun was texting you about, his fingers tapping across the small screen of his phone while he put all his ranting and raving into words and sent off the text with a sigh of relief. You would talk him down, get him through his stress, and give him some advice for his problems. Then he’d feel like a new man, ready to tackle his problems with a clear head just like you always did for him. Just the thought of your advice had him smiling down at his phone while he added ‘sorry, about that. had to vent. how was your day sweets?’ and sent it your way.

On your end, you read through the long text ready to reply and give him some advice and offer your own help, but then you remembered… You remembered how just a few days ago you were venting to him about a small argument you and Ari, your roommate, had gotten into, and he showed no signs of actually listening. You went to him for a reason! He had at least 10 roommates, he never had complaints about any of them, so it wasn’t like you were talking just to talk! You wanted your boyfriend to give you some advice like you always gave him, but all you got was a “damn... Wanna order me some wings?” You had to physically keep jaw from dropping. God, he could be such a fucking guy sometimes! It was like talking to a fucking wall! Albeit a very good looking, handsome wall, but a wall nonetheless.

It was time for him to get yet another taste of his own medicine. Instead of taking the time to offer your advice or offer your help, you smirked, staring at your screen as you typed out, ‘that sucks’. Next text, ‘My day was chill, kinda hungry … send me door dash?’

On his end, Jaehyun stared at the screen with blatant confusion, watching as the minutes ticked by while he waited for some long paragraph with solutions and encouragement to be sent his way. After five minutes nothing came. The same after 10. No change after 20 and then he sets his phone aside feeling grumpy and pissy. Why wasn’t his girlfriend helping him? Did you even read his message?

And he couldn’t exactly call you out on it because it wasn’t an issue between the both of you. They were problems he had before you guys were together sure, but he liked having you to lean on now. He sighed tiredly, resting his chin atop his folded arms with a pout while staring at his dark screen and willing you to text him back again so all his issues would be just one step closer to being fixed.

His heart skipped a beat when the screen lit up and he saw the familiar combination of emojis used for your contact. He reached for his phone eagerly, feeling his heart soar at the anticipated text where you would help him solve his issues. But his face fell into a frown and he groaned out loudly at the words on his screen: ‘is my food on its way yet?’

The last reciprocation of his fuckboy energy was probably the worst. You honestly don’t know how you let Jaehyun get away with it practically unscathed, but karma was coming around now and she wasn’t merciful. It was your pièce de résistance, the cherry on top of your fuckboy sundae, your magnum opus, your masterpiece.

To give Jaehyun some credit, it had been a while since he had dated a woman for a long period of time, or really, dated any woman at all. Maybe he had forgotten some very basic decorum and manners as far as ways to act and things to say or not say. Just yesterday you had been complaining about your professor being very vague in the instructions for your assignment, and even more vague when you emailed him to ask for clarity. “Like the instructions make it sound so simple, but it can’t be that simple if this project accounts for 30% of our grade! Like hello, is it hard to reply to an email with words that actually fucking mean something?” You groaned, running your fingers through your hair while you texted your project group chat what your professor had replied.

Jaehyun chuckled, running a calming hand down your back, focusing his relaxing touch on your lower back as his fingers kneaded at your muscles, “chill out sweetheart, I think you’re making this a bigger deal than it actually is.”

You sent him an unamused look from the corner of your eye, “chill out? Jae, I just said this project accounts for a third of my grade. I can’t be chill about this.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, “are you… you know?”

Your fingers froze over your keyboard, waiting for his next words, giving him a chance to backtrack. He stayed silent and waited patiently. You exhaled, speaking in a voice that was all too eerily calm, “Am I what, Jaehyun?”

“Are you on your period? You just seem extra worked up about something kind of pointless.” He replied casually, his fingers continuing to work at your lower back. The exact area you had once confessed hurt you so bad you could barely stand in the first couple days of your period. This- somewhat thoughtful- little shit!

You smacked his hands away while you closed your laptop and gathered your things in a hurry, mumbling, “you’re such an asshole sometimes.”

Jaehyun stared at you in shock, an asshole? He was being an asshole for caring about his girlfriend’s well-being? “Sweetheart, it’s just that you seem to be making a bigger deal out of this than it actually is,” he tried to explain.

You held a hand up, silencing him, ”every time you open your mouth, you dig yourself into a deeper hole. No, I’m not on my period. Yes, it is a big deal and yes, I’m actually leaving. Good night and goodbye.”

This very conversation had been playing on repeat in your mind while Jaehyun vented to you about Johnny being up his ass about new recruits being low as he paced around his room. “I mean, it shouldn’t be solely on my shoulders if recruits are low. There are plenty of brothers who don’t have as many responsibilities as I do. Like, I barely figured out the whole sponsored mess with Taeyong and now Johnny decided to stick his foot up my ass too. Can I get a fucking break or something?!” He ranted passionately.

You stared at him blankly from your seated position on his bed, forcing your smirk to stay hidden. “Is it… you know?” You began to ask.

“Is it stressful? Hell yeah it is, I mean shouldn't we have any and all brothers taking turns trying to recruit. I mean that’s why I take my time to throw mixers, parties, and sponsored events that kick ass so that people want to join,” Jaehyun replied with a tired sigh.

“No,” you laughed softly, “is it like your time of the month? You seem to be making a big deal out of nothing?”

When Jaehyun turned to you with his eyes wide in astonishment, he expected to see you laughing it off playfully. He expected for you to confess that you were just kidding and kiss him sweetly. But you cocked your head to the side and raised a brow as if to ask, ‘what’s the problem?’

After that, Jaehyun was quick to rise to his feet, pinning you with a heated stare. “What the hell has been up with you? You've been acting… grimy for like the last month.”

You laughed in astonishment, “I’ve been acting grimy? Huh, then imagine how I feel on a regular basis!”

“You?! Sweets, you’ve been acting like a douche! Like when you didn’t respond to me for days even though you were posting like normal and you lied about your phone being broken! Like, hello! You were on Instagram right in front of my face with the same crack on your screen since I’ve known you!”

You raised a brow, holding back an amused smirk, “that’s all? I don’t reply for a couple days and now I’m a douche? Babe, you’re being like really emotional right now, calm down.”

“And that too!” Jaehyun exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “why are you asking me if it’s my time of the month when I’m talking about something that’s bothering me? I want you to support me. You did the same thing when I texted you looking for advice when I was handling the whole mixers and sponsors thing.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “well, I don’t know what you want me to say right now.”

Jaehyun raised his brows and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what the hell he was hearing. Was he in some kind of alternate universe? Had aliens come down and planted worms in your brain? What happened to his sweet girlfriend?! “Well, an apology would be really nice,” he replies while cocking his head at you.

“And have you ever apologized to me for any of that same behavior?” You ask in a calm voice.

“Wha- me apologize?! This isn’t about me! It’s about you!”

“Oh, so it’s only a problem when I act like this and not you? Got it.”

“When?! When have I acted like you?” Jaehyun asks in exasperation, eyes wide with shocked confusion.

“Hmmm. Let me think!” You exclaim before dramatically placing the tip of your finger on your chin, “just like everyday we’ve been together, you dummy!”

“Give me examples. I can’t believe this.”

“Alright, how about how I’ve had to train you like some kind of pet to learn some very basic texting etiquette? I let you get away with being a shitty texter for months and the one time I do it, you go crazy. I got used to not getting a response from you after days on end and I act like you did one time and you almost call campus security to my dorm to see if I’m alive,” you state, counting out a single finger.

With the next finger, “I come to you for advice regarding my single roommate considering you have like a hundred of them, and what do you do? You say, damn, buy me wings? Who the fuck does that?! So it didn’t feel very good when I did it to you, huh? Did you like looking for advice only to be hit with some bullshit response and then asked for food? Which I never got by the way!”

Third finger, “And just now. Oh no, did you not like being told your issue meant nothing? Awww, mmmm, are you sad?” You pull your face into a very sarcastic sad face, “now imagine how I feel when you asked me if I was on my fucking period?! Like, have you never been around someone with a vagina? Even Mark and Haechan who barely pull know better than to ask some shit like that! And these are just three of your douchebag behaviors! Shall I continue, Mr. so called I’m-perfect-and-can-never-make-mistakes-because-that-would-be-impossible!”

Jaehyun stood speechless. Was he really that bad? Well, clearly he was. He had to admit he didn’t think he was this bad. He had been really good about adapting to his new role as a boyfriend and thought everything else that came his way was just going to be easy to handle. Apparently, he hadn’t handled it all the right way.

“I didn’t realize I was this bad, I’m sorry. Wow,” Jaehyun sighed, sitting on the bed with his folded over his mouth, “sweetheart, I’m really sorry.”

But that was another way Jaehyun had adapted. He didn’t start arguments while being hard headed, he listened when the issue was serious, he accepted wrong doing, and made changes.

You crawled across his bed, sitting beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been petty. I should have told you these things bothered me in the moment instead of using them against you… but it was kinda fun.”

Jaehyun rested his head atop yours and chuckled softly, “I think I’m really glad you’re not one of the frat guys because we’d always have girls in here yelling about you gaslighting them. How did you handle me doing this for so long?”

“It helps that you listen when it matters. You’re sweet, you can be romantic, you care about me, you make an effort for me, I can tell you’re trying to be better for me even if it doesn’t all come easily for me,” you explain in a calm voice, “and you’re hot as hell, the abs don’t stop, and you keep that body nice and tight for mama, don't you baby boy?”

Your cackle rings out across his room while he jumps away from you with flushed cheeks. “Don’t… don’t talk like that. It’s totally freaking me out!”

“Come on, babe,” you tease while deepening your voice playfully, “bring me that ass.”

You manage to grab him while he tries, and fails, to jump away. You playfully knead his (lack of) ass while grinning up at him. You pucker your lips, to which Jaehyun playfully rolls his eyes before kissing you sweetly. “I’m so glad you’re a girl because you would be an absolute terror as a guy,” he states while shaking his head and cupping your cheeks.

“I think I should rush, baby,” you respond playfully, “you could be my big, dude! Come on, bro!”

“Enough of this!” Jaehyun jokingly hisses, “I want my sweet girl back.”

“Fine,” you drawl out with pout, “let this be your lesson though, Jae. When you go low, I can go lower. And I will go lower.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned. I’ll be better at texting, I’ll be an active listener, I’ll give you advice when you need it, and I’ll never ask you if you’re on your period again,” Jaehyun nods.

“See, you’re such a great learner. Let’s go get you a treat, baby,” you smile sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking his hand and leading him down the stairs toward the kitchen.

“I don’t know how I feel about you talking to me like I’m a dog…”

You smile at him, “you like it.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, “do I?”

You hum, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer, “yup, you have a praise kink.”

Well, if you say so…

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct blurbs #fratboy!jaehyun #frat!jaehyun #frat!nct #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff

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wonsroyalty · 1 month ago

Text

METER : ̗̀➛이희승

pairings/warnings: uni student!heeseung x reader, smut, <18 DNI,, not sure what other warnings to put here yet but i'll add more later

a/n: had this idea in the drafts for a longgg time but never wrote it so i finally got to work!!

“You could never.” your friend gasped from across you.

You could and you definitely would.

For context, you’d just announced to the table that you were planning on submitting a new entry into your collective, ‘Munch O Meter’.

Yes, you had a blog that ranked the guys and girls at your university based on how well they could eat pussy. It was a way of ‘taking feminism into your own hands’ as Yunjin liked to say.

If you weren’t all beautiful and popular, the cancellation of your friend group would’ve began a longggg time ago.

However, top of the list hadn’t been topped in over 5 months and your loyal followers were getting concerned.

Jake Sim had given Hyeju a ‘cosmic’ orgasm and she’d rated him a 97. Out of disbelief, you all took turns hooking up with him and truth be told he truly was as good as she’d said.

His average score was 90, placing him at the top of the list.

For the sake of your entertainment and theirs, you proposed an unexpected candidate.

Deep down you just wanted to see if he was a virgin but disguising your intrigue as concern for the list worked perfectly.

“Lee Heeseung..?” Yooyeon looked at you as if you’d just shit on her plate. “Seriously.”

Yunjin shook her head.

“Definitely not.”

You slouched in your chair sulking.

Whenever they put people forward, you encouraged their suggestions, thinking of their fun rather than the entertainment of the blog.

“I literally never suggest anyone.” you whined. “Just let me have this.”

“No.” Yunjin firmly shut you down.

Hyeju gave you a pat on the head, attempting to comfort you.

“But why?!” you sat up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table accidentally.

“Who even is he? If his name doesn’t ring a bell, he shouldn’t even be considered.” she doubled down.

You sighed exasperatedly.

Heeseung had come over to the table not even five minutes before, handing you the notes from music theory during your group brainstorming for the next candidate.

“He was that nerd.” Yooyeon explained to her. “The one with the baggy clothes and glasses that kept falling down his nose.”

“He’s really nice.” you frowned.

“Nice doesn’t cut it.” Yunjin shook her head. “If he’s a bad fuck you’ll just ruin his chances of getting with anyone else.”

Fed up with their resistance you swiped your bag off the table and announced that you were going to do it anyway.

Despite the protests sent your way you stormed off to find Heeseung.

There was only one place he could be - the library.

And that’s where you found him. Buried behind a pile of books while sipping on one of those cheap energy drinks.

You were just glad that you weren’t giving him a blowjob, out of fear that his sweat would reek.

Your fingers tapped his shoulder rapidly.

“Heeseung!” you sang.

“Shut up.” his friend who you knew as Jay, snapped at you.

You held your hands up, surrendering.

“Um.. Yn? What wrong?” Heeseung panicked. “Were my notes bad? Oh my Pythagoras, did I miss out anything!”

“Shut up!” Jay snapped again.

You shook your head.

“I just need to talk to you… over there.” you pointed towards the book shelves.

He didn’t even have time to respond before you were yanking him out of his seat, ignoring the books that toppled to the ground.

“I have a problem..” you started.

Now that he was up close in a tight space and you were asking for such a shameful act, the embarrassment caught up to you.

“Am I your last resort?” he asked.

“No!” you panicked. “My first….”

He held his hand awkwardly on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. What can I help you with?”

Your brain registered where you were and who you were with. The warmth of his hand felt nice but you had a reputation to uphold.

You shoved his arm off and he immediately gained composure, but not in the way that you wanted.

He wouldn’t hold eye contact with you anymore, feeling the weight of your different status’.

“I wanna enter you into the Munch O Meter.” you bashfully answered.

His head whipped towards yours.

“What the fuck.”

You covered your face with your fingers, curling into yourself.

“You stopped my studying for this joke? Are you kidding?” he glared before storming off.

Your fingers grasped at his jacket, pulling him back.

“I’m not joking.” you confess. “I don’t usually pick people but I wanna choose you.”

He scanned your eyes looking for any hint of doubt but couldn’t find any.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Yes. I’m definitely sure.” you stepped back.

He bit his fist to stop himself from squealing.

“Jay is gonna be so shocked.” he looked over at his friend. “One thing though,��

“Whatever you want.” you replied. “It’s the least I could do to be honest.”

“We need to get ramen, first.” Heeseung nodded calmly.

You smile dropped. “Fucking.. Ramen?”

“I promised Jay I’d get him some.” he shrugged, unbothered and not in a rush at all. “And i’m kinda hungry.”

You fought the urge to walk away then and there. Choosing to stick to the plan for your own pride. Going back to the lunch table would be way too embarrassing.

“Fine. I’ll pay.” you stormed off to their table.

Heeseung trailed after you packing up his things.

“What are you doing?” Jay huffed.

You yanked him out of his seat.

“Hurry up, we’ve got an errand to run.”

***

The whole way to the ramen place, you were forced to listen to their atrocious science jokes. You were smart enough to understand them but the quantity was overkill.

It was surprisingly close to your apartment so that was a bonus, you could ditch Jay as soon as they’d eaten and get on with what you wanted.

You paid and sat waiting for them to start eating.

Jay wasted no time but Heeseung looked skeptical.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked.

“Not hungry.” you shrugged.

“Eating ramen isn’t gonna make your pussy taste weird.” he deadpanned.

An old lady sat near the three of you gave you a look.

“Keep it down, will you.” you growled. “I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” Jay slurped. “If you tasted like ramen, he’d eat you out better.”

You flicked him in the head, his vulgar response had sent the old lady away.

Heeseung finally began to eat and you saw what Jay meant.

His eyes closed in pure bliss and he inhaled the food.

You hated how the noises coming from his mouth went straight to the pulsing sensation between your legs.

He didn’t even stop when he’d eaten all the noodles, gulping down the leftover soup without a care in the world. Even licking the bowl to not waste a drop.

You’d never wanted to be a bowl so badly.

“Is it good..?” you croaked out.

“Fuck, that tasted amazing.” he wiped at his face with a napkin. “You would’ve liked it.”

“Yeah..? Fuck.” you moaned out. “We’re going now. Bye Jay.”

You jumped to your feet bouncing impatiently as you watched Heeseung clean up.

“So when will I be on the list?” Jay joked.

“Idk. When we have a threesome or something.” you absentmindedly responded, pushing Heeseung’s arms into his coat.

You missed the way Jay began to choke on his spit, as you were busy shoving Heeseung out of the door.

“Someone’s needy, heh.” he rubbed the back of his head.

“No, it’s worse than that.” you sighed.

Heeseung stumbled after you as you dragged him to your apartment.

The two of you stood in silence as the elevator took you up.

"Are you okay?" Heeseung asked. " Do you still want to do this?"

You didn't respond and instead attacked his lips as soon as he’d kicked his shoes off in your apartment.

"That's not an answer." he pulled away.

"Fuck yeah. I still want this." you responded, dazed by his lips.

You bit, sucked and kissed at every piece of skin available.

He pulled you off by your hair. “Am I not here to eat you out?”

Your hands grabbed his, taking him across the apartment and into your bedroom.

He lightly pushed you onto your bed and hovered over you, placing light kisses on your lips.

His lips messily made their way down to your neck, stopping at the spot where he hear you cry out the loudest.

"Wait," you panted. "Have you done this before?"

You felt his hair brush against your cheek as he shook his head.

"Really?" you sat up.

Yes, you'd thought he was a virgin but but hearing the confirmation made your heart jump for joy.

"I've had sex before, just.. never eaten a girl out." he shrugged.

"Oh."

"Not what you thought, huh?" he squinted.

You scrambled to change your expression.

"That's not what I thought-"

Heeseung used his palm to smush your face into the mattress. Upon hearing you complain he shoved two fingers into your mouth, pushing them further down till you gagged.

"Shhh. Please just stop talking, oh my."

Your eyes widened in shock.

"Who are you talking to like that?" Is what you would've said if you didn't have fingers playing with your uvula.

He moved down to your shirt, popping each button with one hand but by his expression, you could tell he was getting frustrated. The fingers in your mouth popped out and moved to help slip you out of your shirt before unclasping your bra.

Heeseung took a second to fold the items and place them on your bedside table.

"Can you hurry up- Wait, fuck!"

He took your newly exposed breasts into his hands, twisting your tender nipples, painfully.

"What did I tell you?"

You scoffed.

"You can't actually expect me to be quiet. That's- Ow!"

He leant down and took a nipple into his mouth, biting down with his teeth, swirling his warm tongue around it before popping off.

"Shut up."

All the talk went down to where you desperately needed him the most.

Heeseung kissed down your stomach, hesitating at your skirt before unzipping it and folding it with the rest of your clothes.

You watched as his eyes widened at the sight of the wet patch on your panties as he dragged them down slowly.

"Do you always get this wet?" he asked in awe.

You shook your head feeling the embarrassment of being completely bare in front of him while he was fully clothed and composed in front of you.

"So that's your kink." he laughed. "Crazy, but I'm not surprised that you're kinda freaky."

"Shut up, Heeseung. I swear I'll-"

He sighed loudly, interrupting you once again.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth closed?"

He lowered his body down the bed so that his face was eye level with your pussy, eyes wide and curious.

Cold air blew onto your clit as he watched you clench your nothing.

"Fascinating how the female anatomy works."

You sat up, resting on your arms.

"You're gonna turn me off, stop being weird!"

He looked at you as though you'd just called his mother a bitch but didn't respond.

Two of his fingers gathered the slick dripping out of you and lathered it all over your clit, switching up the tempo randomly.

Your head fell back, legs widening in pleasure.

"Cool..." he drawled. "You know you've got more than 10,000 nerve fibers here, right?"

Your arms collapsed from underneath you as you moaned out.

"Wow. When I actually want you to speak, you don't."

He experimentally slipped two fingers into your cunt, feeling around as he kept his other hand circling.

Your legs closed around his shoulders as you gripped onto your sheets when he found the spot that usually had you screaming.

You felt Heeseung speed up the pace as you gushed all over his fingers, orgasming faster than expected.

"Are you sure that was your first time?" you gasped for air.

The boy between your legs was clearly distracted.

He licked at the release leaving your pussy, closing his eyes in pure bliss before sticking his tongue in.

You rapidly fought to push his head away.

"No. No more." you sighed.

"I know you can get another one." he rested his head against your thigh.

"I really can't." you shook your head.

"Stop lying." he frowned.

"I'm not lying!" you lip dropped in shock.

"Jake literally made you cum four times and yet you don't want me to do it again. Right."

You sighed from your gut.

"But.. I'm tired." you looked away from his piercing gaze. "And since when did you even speak to Jake?"

"Good thing you don't have to actually do anything." Heeseung scoffed before diving back in.

Your fingers curled into the duvet again as he quickly found a steady pace.

"Heeseung, I really can't." you whimpered.

He picked up the tempo in response, slurping and sticking his tongue as far into you as he could.

"Hee! Please." your weak arms attempted to push him away.

He continued to ignore you, your body setting alight as you got closer to a state of other-worldly pleasure.

"Heeseung, Jake lied!" you cried out. "I can't take it- I can't."

Heeseung seemed to reach a spot even deeper than you had ever tried, the constant stimulation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably as you got closer to your impending doom.

A loud moan left your lips as your entire body went rigid.

"Hee, fuck!"

In the midst of the best pleasure you'd ever felt you peeked an eye open to see how Heeseung was reacting.

He had his eyes closed and his tongue wide out as he tried to catch ever drop of the release you'd squirted out.

Your chest heaved as you attempted to get a breath in, causing him to open his eyes abruptly.

"Wait what." he frowned.

"Jake, he lied. I only came twice and that was because he fucking edged me for two hours. But I gave him a high score because I didn't know who told him about how I always squirt the second time." you confessed in a ramble.

Heeseung hopped off the bed shaking his head at how you picked at a thread on your duvet to avoid looking at him. He slipped off his boxers and jeans waiting for you to finish you sentence.

"I don't even recommend people for the list because my ex told me it was weird how I always squirt and since then I've just felt embarrassed so I don't fuck people, well aside from Jake because I didn't believe Hyeju, but I wanted to put you forward because, I don't know, I'm kind of admitting that I do in fact have a crush on you and this was like the only way I could get you to not be scared to talk to me outside of class and yeah I overheard you and Jay talking about it in Music Theory, truly shameless-"

Within a split second you had a dick shoved down your throat.

"Fuckk." he moaned out. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking."

He raked your hair into a makeshift ponytail for easier access to use you how he wanted.

"You just don't listen." he sighed, gagging you over and over.

If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now.

Your hands gripped onto his thighs for dear life as he ruthlessly used your mouth.

"I can't focus on the moment when you keep speaking." he looked you in the eye. "And I know it sounds mean but, fuck, I didn't think we were ever gonna do this again, so I obviously wanted to have a good memory of right now."

His fingers left your hair, head falling back onto your pillows.

You grabbed them and pulled them back.

"You're so hot." he moaned. "And your ex is a fucking imbecilic, doltish prick. He didn't deserve you."

You sure as hell weren't letting Heeseung escape your grasp after this. You used one hand to jerk off whatever you couldn't reach while the other fondled his balls. His hips thrust up into you uncontrollably as he let himself go.

He watched in surprise as you swallowed every last drop before composing himself and walking over to the pile of folded clothes.

"Hee, where are you going?"

He gestured towards the door.

You tilted your head in confusion.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I liked you, come back here!"

He laughed in disbelief, landing on your bed and pulling you into his embrace.

"You like me?"

You nodded.

"I have for a while actually."

He kissed the top of your head as you reached to get your phone.

Bitchless Bitches😩

heeseung lee - 100

yunjin🪼

YOU IM GONNA FWJOFNQ

hyeju🌺

OHHH so that's where you went

yooyeon🐰

how do we know that he's actually that good..

hyeju🌺

PREACH

if hes a 100 let me at him🥰

no. off limits.

Heeseung laughed at your messages.

"Next time we'll actually fuck." You nodded with determination as you put your phone away.

"Next time?" he gasped in shock.

"Duh. You can't leave now."

"Wow you really want that threesome with Jay."

"What threesome with Jay?"

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gravegoer · 2 months ago

Note

I saw a video of a guy blowing smoke into his gfs mouth when they kiss AHHHH THAT WITH SEVIKA HAS ME ROLLINGGGGGGG

Smokey kisses

i feel like I know exactly what video you're talking about, and 100% agree with you! i also have part 2 of the bodyguard fic coming out soon ! asks are still open, if i havent answered yours PLEASSEE resend, some get lost in the void.

masterlist

Whenever Sevika smoked cigarillos around you, she never blew the smoke in your face, assuming you never wanted to inhale the secondhand smoke.

When talking face to face with you, she blows the smoke out of the side of her thick lips (sometimes into someone else's face, not that she cares)

Even when you kiss, she feels a little self-conscious about her breath, knowing it probably tastes bitter. She tries to lessen the blow by using some cheap strawberry chapstick every so often.

Once you leaned in to kiss her while she was smoking and she pushed back on your chest with the hand that wasn't holding her cigarillo.

"Not right now sweetheart"

At first, you didn't realize why she did this, thinking maybe she was uncomfortable with your affection. But you started to realize the trend within a few months.

How she refused to smoke inside your house, and never purposely lit one up around you unless she was stressed or anxious. But not before muttering an apology.

Obviously, knowing this information you wanted to make her less insecure of her habits. If you couldn't get rid of the habit you might as well embrace it, right?

This is the part where you hatch your master plan.

When you two sat together in Sevika's private booth at the bar there was a cigarillo held between her lips as she was in the middle of a poker game. You sat on her leg, her mechanical arm holding you steady by the waist.

This was one of your guys' pastimes, she would show you off to the jealous men at the bar while you got to indulge in the warmth of her body and the heat of her touch.

Undoubtedly she was winning, a man huffed in disappointment from her left. This made her chuckle and smoke was blown out of her nostrils, she shifted her leg slightly, making you bounce in her lap.

You smiled at this, leaning back on her shoulder.

As the men shuffled out of the booth (not before handing over Sevika's winnings) you wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

"Good job baby," You kissed her on the cheek as a reward, a reward that she definetly valued more than the gold on the table infront of her.

"Dont you ever get tired of watching me win?" She said teasingly, running a hand up your thigh.

You inched closer to her face, "No, not even a little bit"

She backed up a bit as you got closer to her lips, raising an eyebrow at you. Before she could retaliate further you grabbed her face and pulled it towards yours

Your lips intertwined with hers, a gasp escaped her lips, causing smoke to be blown into your mouth. At that you inhaled, deepening the kiss.

Her eyes were open, pupils blown wide as she stared incrediously at you. This shock didnt last long as she started to kiss you back, grabbing the back of your head and running her fingers through your hair roughly.

"Fuck, that was so hot"

She muttered between heavy breaths and rough kisses.

Pulling away, she took another drag of her cigarillo and pushed her mouth back against yours, releasing a breath when you kissed her back.

She groaned at the feeling of you taking the smoke into your mouth and letting it linger, the fumes your senses as it escaped in small spurts through your lips.

Sevika smirked into the kiss, now moving her mouth down to your jaw. But you pushed her head away, giggling.

"You should have let me do that sooner." She rubs the back of your head where her hand sat.

"Yeah? Well, quit acting like I don't know you smoke when you're around me."

this was infact NOT proof read so dont come at me....

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @slut4sevika @kylorey25

#sevika arcane x reader #sevika #arcane #arcane sevika #sevika arcane #arcane netflix #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #need that #i love sevika #sevika x reader #x reader #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #fanfic #sevika fanfic

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plumso · 5 months ago

Text

pure heart (theo x reader)

pairing: theodore nott x reader warning: obsessiveness, possessiveness summary: y/n found theo’s journal. now, she doesn’t know how to act around him. masterlist song recommendation: sweet by cigarettes after sex I do not consent to the reposting of my work! reblogging, however, is fine <3

The days have been bleak for Y/N — nothing exciting, nothing new.

Obsessively self-conscious, she has limited herself. She rarely attends social events and avoids any interaction with men. She fidgets in her clothes, she avoids cameras, she overthinks everything she says - it has become too exhausting. She had given up. Now, she finds everything tedious and dull.

Until she found his journal.

Sept. 4 XXXX She looks so beautiful today. I wonder if that’s her perfume, or maybe that’s her natural scent. I wonder if her skin is usually warm or cold. I want to touch her. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 7 XXXX She laughed with some guy. I hate her. She’s too oblivious around men. But she’s too cute. I could never hate her. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 8 XXXX She looks so peaceful when she reads. Haha! She accidentally fell asleep for a bit. I love her so much. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 11 XXXX That guy came up to her again. Fuck him. She looks annoyed. Oh, she ignored him. Good girl. Y/N Nott.

Y/N gasped and shut the journal. Goosebumps were all over her arms, her breath was shaky. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and there was this tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach. It’s as if lightning shot through her, awakening every nerve in her body. After months of feeling down and exhausted, she felt truly alive.

But Y/N tried to shake off her conflicting feelings. Despite it seeming like the sweet ramblings of a boy with a crush, some were greatly disturbing. Who could have written this?

She had found the black leather journal left on a windowsill in a hall rarely passed. She looked around, thinking the owner was nearby, but no one was in sight.

Y/N then flipped through the journal. Pages and pages were all about her with each ending off with “Y/N Nott.”

‘Nott?’ Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, wondering why it sounded so familiar. ‘Theodore Nott?’

Y/N shook her head. She refused to believe that this journal was from Theo, one of the most notorious Slytherin boys of her year. He’s always so quiet and emotionless. The only interaction she had with him was from a few years ago, but it was so insignificant that it could barely be considered a real interaction.

‘There’s no way that he could have written this,’ she thought. 'But I can’t leave this here. If anybody else sees this, they would think I wrote this about myself.’

After much deliberation, Y/N stuffed the journal in her school bag and headed for her dorm where she spent the rest of the night reading each entry.

***

The next day, Y/N woke up in a daze. With three hours of sleep, Y/N got through only half of the journal. There were many, many entries with the earliest dating back to two years ago, each entry became increasingly obsessive.

Throughout the day, Y/N felt foggy and her face was a bit flushed. She would only snap out of her daze when she became aware of Theo’s presence.

Theo was in all of her classes and he sat only a few seats away from her. Y/N never thought of it much before, but now, she found it strange considering she only has one or two classes with her friends.

During class, she would keep her head down and slightly tilt her head so she could take a peek at Theo. He looked the same as always - emotionless and cold. Could someone like him write such strange and emotional entries?

Y/N considered talking to Theo to see if the journal was his. Maybe test him by asking if he lost something recently. But she was unsure if she wanted to confirm it. She didn’t know if she could face the owner’s strong, overwhelming feelings. And she was somewhat scared of what could happen next.

A few days had passed, and Y/N was becoming worried that the owner YYwill soon approach her. But she couldn’t let go of the journal yet. She was a madman obsessed. In many of the entries, the owner of the journal would describe what Y/N wore. What she ate for breakfast. Who she talked to. Some entries seemed like sweet love poems while some showed stalker tendencies.

Y/N was conflicted. She knows how deranged and disillusioned the owner was. She was scared, yes, but she also felt excited. As she continued to read, all his strange ramblings were starting to sound sweet. She didn’t know if she should be creeped out or flattered.

But Y/N knew that her time with the journal needed to end. She knew the owner was looking for their journal. She would sometimes feel goosebumps on her back as if someone was staring at her. When this happened, she would hurriedly leave the room. She thought of placing it back where she found it, but she needed to finish reading the journal first.

So, one night, Y/N went to the back of the library and made sure no one was around. She sat on the oak chair and took the journal from her bag. She then flipped to the first page. The ink was a bit smudged and the paper was a bit worn, but it had the same neat handwriting that she became familiar with.

Dec. 3 XXXX Went to Hogsmeade today, but I left the boys. I didn’t feel like socializing today. Headed to Hog’s Head to read for a bit. I assumed no one would be there, but I was wrong. That quiet girl Y/N was there. She was reading, too. Whatever, I’m sitting far anyways.

Dec. 4 XXXX How come I’ve never talked to her before? She is so beautiful. So sweet. What book was she reading? I’ll have to find it in the library when she’s done with it. Does she know who I am? I should talk to her. No, I don’t want her to be creeped out. I’ll find a better way to talk to her. I think I’m falling for her. Y/N L/N Nott.

Y/N was incredibly confused. What happened that could have caused such a big change? She doesn’t even remember going to Hog’s Head, much less what she did that day.

Y/N furrowed her brows as she thought hard about her trips to Hogsmeade in the last two years. ‘I have been to the Hog’s Head before… but I don’t remember anything spe-

“So, you had it.”

A dark, low voice spoke behind her. Y/N jumped in her seat, goosebumps all over her skin. Just by their voice, Y/N felt shivers run through her back and that tingling sensation in her stomach.

But Y/N couldn’t move. She was frozen, too anxious to turn around and confront him. But she knew who it was. His voice was one she knows all too well.

Suddenly, Y/N felt his warm body lightly pressed on her back. He was now standing behind her. He then slightly bent over her as he flipped through the pages of his journal.

“Here,” he said as he stopped to a certain page. “Read this.”

Confused, Y/N slowly looked up, only to be met with a smiling Theo.

“Come on. Read it for me. Please.”

Y/N reluctantly nodded. “February 14 XXXX. Some boys left candy on her table. Bunch of idiots. I threw it all away. I wanted her to only have mine. It’s mint chocolate, her favorite. I know everything that she likes. I-I’m the only one who can treat her right…” Y/N trailed off, unsure if she should say the next part.

“Continue.”

“S-she’s mine. I love her so much. She’ll see that one day. Y/N Nott.” Y/N’s breath was shaky and her mind was becoming a bit foggy. She knew this situation wasn’t normal. He’s too calm. Too scary. But for some reason, she was filled with anticipation.

“You were the one who gave me the mint chocolate?” Y/N asked, looking back up at Theo.

He nodded.

“And… you wrote this journal?”

He smiled.

“I was searching everywhere for the journal. My name isn’t on it, so I wasn’t worried about getting caught. But… I didn’t want any more attention on you,” Theo said as took the seat next to her. “But then you started acting strange. You would get nervous around me. It was so cute.” He chuckled and the tingling sensation in Y/N’s stomach grew more prominent.

“I’m glad you found it,” Theo said as he gently took Y/N’s hand. “Now you know how much I love you. How much I think about you.”

Y/N’s mind was going haywire. She didn’t know what to think or what to say. Goosebumps were still all over her skin, but she could only focus on his sweet words and warm hands.

“Y/N…” he trailed as he leaned closer to her. He placed her palm on his chest, purposely trying to make her feel his heartbeat. It was racing fast. “I couldn’t ask you on Valentines, but… will you be mine?”

When Y/N read through his journal, she knew he was dangerous. His feelings were too strong, too overwhelming. He was obsessive and possessive. She was anxious about what would happen if she reciprocated.

But as she looked at Theo’s handsome face with her palm on his broad chest, she felt seen and alive. His love, his sincerity - it’s hard to believe it’s all real. And it’s too intoxicating to deny.

“Y-yes. I want to be yours."

*** bonus: hog’s head interaction ***

December 3, XXXX

“Welcome!” The shopkeeper of Hog’s Head yelled as he filled up a cup of juice from behind the counter.

Theo scrapped the snow off his shoes before entering, unwrapping the scarf around his neck. “Black coffee, please,” Theo said before walking to the table farthest from the other customer.

Theo then rummages through his bag, taking out a book and his new leather journal. He received it from a teacher who recommended writing entries of gratitude or special moments. After putting it off for months, he finally set a goal for himself to write the first entry today.

As Theo wrote his first entry, the shopkeeper placed the black coffee on the table. He then went back to refill the other customer’s cup. Theo took a sip and observed the small figure of the other customer. She looked familiar.

The other customer looked up from her book to thank the shopkeeper. She set her book down and slightly stretched her back before taking a sip of her juice. She looks around the building before spotting Theo. She jumped a little, startled to see someone else there. She was too caught up in her book to notice her surroundings. She quickly composed herself before giving him a warm smile. She then turned back around and continued with her book.

In that short moment, Theo was hooked. When she smiled, something within him suddenly clicked. As if he was now complete. Something within him changed, his desires growing and morphing.

‘Y/N… what was her last name again? Ah, L/N. Y/N L/N. No… Y/N Nott.’

***

a/n: i do not condone stalking or extreme possessiveness. this is entirely unrealistic and fiction. however, it is nice to imagine that a handsome man is so in love with you that he's obsessed lol. i also named this "pure heart" for irony because he views his feelings as pure, but is it really?? also, for those into smut, you can definitely imagine this leading to an s x m dynamic, so it makes the title even more funny lol. anywho, hope you enjoyed it!

here is part two for more <3

#theo x reader #theo #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #hogwarts #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #slytherin #harry potter x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #slytherin boys

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nerdycheol · 13 days ago

Text

Hint. Hint. HINT!!!

Pairing: Lee Seokmin (DK) x Reader

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Crush

WC: ~2.5k

Lee Seokmin was either the dumbest person you had ever met or just truly, utterly clueless.

For months now, you had been dropping hints—glaring, neon-sign-worthy hints—but he still hadn’t caught on. It was ridiculous. Actually, no—it was painful.

How else were you supposed to let him know you liked him? Spell it out in the sky? Get a marching band to parade through campus?

Today, you were determined to make it even more obvious.

Hint #143: Movie Night

“You know,” you started, casually scrolling through Netflix as Seokmin sprawled out on your dorm bed beside you, “watching a movie together like this is basically a date.”

He snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Pfft, nah. Friends do this all the time.”

You shot him a look. “Yeah, but do friends do this?” You shifted closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

Your heart thumped. Any second now, he’d get it—he had to.

Seokmin, the human golden retriever that he was, just hummed happily. “You’re so comfy, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes. “Seokmin. Be honest. Are you acting dumb or are actually dumb?”

He blinked. “What?”

You sat up, exasperated. “I’ve been dropping hints left and right, and you—” You pointed at his forehead. “Are. Not. Getting. It.”

He looked genuinely confused. “Hints? What hints?”

You gaped at him. “Oh my god.”

---

Hint #157: Borrow My Hoodie

One of the surefire ways to get a guy’s attention was the classic borrow his hoodie move. So when you saw Seokmin in his oversized, soft-as-a-cloud hoodie one morning, you knew what had to be done.

You tugged at his sleeve as he sat across from you in the campus café. “Hey, can I borrow your hoodie?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Of course! Are you cold?”

Success.

You pulled it over your head, inhaling the faint scent of his detergent and something undeniably him. “Wow, this is so comfy. I might just keep it forever.”

Seokmin grinned. “That’s fine, I have others!”

You sighed. “No, Seokmin. This is where you’re supposed to say, ‘If you keep my hoodie, you have to give me something in return.’”

His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

“Like…” You leaned forward, staring into his very soul. “A kiss, maybe?”

For a moment, just a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes. Then he laughed. “Ohhh, that’s funny! You almost got me there!”

You groaned, flopping onto the table. Why is he like this?

---

Hint #200: The Almost Confession

Enough was enough. If he couldn’t figure it out on his own, you were just going to have to spell it out for him.

The two of you were sitting on the campus lawn after class, enjoying the golden sunset. Seokmin stretched, his shirt riding up slightly, and you nearly forgot your entire train of thought.

No. Focus.

You took a deep breath. “Seokmin.”

“Hm?” He turned to you, all bright eyes and sunshine.

“I like—”

RIIING.

His phone buzzed loudly, and he scrambled to answer it. “Oh! Sorry, give me a sec—hello?”

You closed your eyes, mentally counting to ten. Of course.

When he finally ended the call, he turned back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

You exhaled. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

---

Hint #250: The Breaking Point

It was getting ridiculous. Everyone in your friend group knew you liked him. Even strangers could probably tell. Everyone except Lee Seokmin himself.

You decided to try one last time.

“Seokmin.” You stopped in the middle of the campus quad, grabbing his hand.

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“Do you think I’d make a good girlfriend?”

He tilted his head. “Of course! You’d be amazing. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You squeezed his hand tighter. “What if I wanted to be your girlfriend?”

Silence.

A beat passed. Then another. You watched as his brain visibly tried to process the words.

“…Wait. What?”

You groaned, pulling your hand away. “Seokmin. Oh my god.”

And then—finally—it clicked. His eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly in realization.

“Wait. Wait. Are you saying—”

“Yes!” you practically shouted. “I’ve been saying it for months!”

His face turned red. “You like me?!”

You threw your hands up. “YES, GENIUS.”

For a second, he just stared at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Then, all at once, his face broke into the brightest, happiest smile you had ever seen.

“You like me?” he repeated, this time with so much joy that your frustration melted away.

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. “Yes, Seokmin. I like you. And I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time.”

He laughed—loud, full, and infectious—before suddenly wrapping you in a tight hug. “I like you too! I just… I didn’t know if you liked me back.”

“You—” You groaned, resting your forehead against his chest. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

Seokmin grinned, holding you tighter. “So… does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend now?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “You better.”

And finally, finally, Lee Seokmin got the hint.

Bonus:

Jeonghan sighed, watching from a distance. “Took them long enough.”

Joshua nodded. “I was starting to think we’d have to force them into a closet or something.”

Seungkwan shook his head. “Nah, even then, Seokmin would probably think it was just ‘friend bonding.’”

And honestly? They weren’t wrong.

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astupidweeb69 · 1 year ago

Text

The Roommate (Dark!Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

NSFW One-shot

Author's note: This is my first time writing smut, so sorry if this turned out bad. It's also way longer than I thought, hopefully there aren't any spelling errors. Cross posted on my AO3 account.

Warnings: Swearing. Toby being creepy, he hurts the reader, blood kink? unprotected sex, creampie, biting, it's just... a lot. (4,519 words) - Minors DNI!

___________________________________________________________

Your brother hated his new roommate.

From what you gathered from the phone calls you two had, you knew he kept to himself, was kind of creepy and left the occasional mess in the kitchen. Your brother had tried to include him when he went out with his other college friends, but he always refused. The guy was gone at odd hours during the night, and smelled like dirt and pine.

You told him it was his own fault for posting an ad for a roommate on Craigslist.

It wasn’t all bad though. He paid his rent on time, always in cash - which he slipped under your brother's bedroom door at the end of every month. Plus, he had insisted on not signing any formal documentation. The lease they had was just a last minute document drawn up for a short term stay.

Your brother would only have to put up with him for 6 months. Then he’d be gone.

But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. And your brother needed someone to pick up part of the rent last minute.

After a few months it had seemed like he’d grown accustomed to the strange ‘twitchy’ man he lived with, that is, until you told him your plans to visit.

You finally got some time off, and it was the only chance you’d get to see him. So when all the hotels in the area were fully booked you were not about to give up. And….your brother’s place had a perfectly good couch available, right?

He was reluctant at first, but after much pleading, he finally agreed.

On one condition.

Stay away from Toby.

You figured he was just being overprotective. It was kind of sweet, but he’d never been that adamant about you not talking to someone before. There must have been something seriously messed up with the guy. And to be perfectly honest, it made you second guess whether you’d actually go through with the trip out there.

But you already bought the plane ticket, and you couldn’t let that money go to waste.

So now you sat in the passenger seat of your brother's truck, the two of you making idle chit chat as he drove you back to his place from the airport.

He talked about school, the classes he was taking, what parties he’d been going to, and fraternities he’d been considering joining. That last part earned him some of your teasing about becoming a beer pong loving, “Frat Bro”.

Only after a few beats of silence, you decided to ask him something that had been bugging you since your arrival.

“Your roommate knows I’m staying at your place, right?”

It was a simple enough question. The last thing you wanted was to intrude on someone else’s living space after all.

You saw your brother grip the steering wheel harder. “Yeah. Toby should know you’re coming.” His response was curt and lacking his previous joyful tone.

“You two fighting or something?”

Your brother sighed. “No just,” He paused for a moment, and glanced at you. “He’s been acting weirder than usual.”

“Weird how?”

He didn’t say anything for a while, instead mulling over his choice of words. Not wanting to scare you, but still wanting to give you a heads up of the situation. “He’s been talking to himself. A lot.”

“That’s not that bad. Lots of people do that.” You don’t know why you felt the need to defend a person you hadn’t met yet.

Another pause. This one is longer than before.

“You haven’t heard what he’s been saying.”

______________________________________________________________

The road ahead was dark, lit up by the dim headlights of the car. The only thing out here now was trees, broken up by the occasional house. It was definitely far from campus.

The driveway was gravel, the truck rocking back and forth from the potholes and uneven terrain, finally coming to a stop in front of the house. Painted a dull plain white, one story, rather small, but it would do. It’s not like you were expecting a mansion.

After the car came to a stop, you grabbed your luggage from the backseat, following your brother to the front door where he quickly unlocked it.

The living room was sparsely decorated, with an old brown couch in the center, a small television and a coffee table littered with cans and half finished drinks.

It completely lacked a homey vibe. Definitely felt like a typical bachelor pad. You nudged his shoulder. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Hey, I’m not majoring in interior design.” Your brother shot back, beginning to walk away past the kitchen, calling out to you. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with a look of disappointment. “Already? I thought we’d, like…. watch TV or something?”

“Next time don’t get such a late flight.” His face stretched into a yawn. “There’s plenty of blankets in the closet. Try not to make too much noise.” Disappearing behind the door of his bedroom, he left you standing in the room alone with your bags.

Time for bed I guess.

You sprawled yourself out on the couch, placing a pillow on the armrest, and rolled out the fuzzy blanket you’d found over your body. You turned to face the front door. The room was pitch black, with a few beams of moonlight split up by the venetian blinds.

You picked up your phone from the coffee table by your side, figuring you could watch a few videos before you fell asleep.

The screen lit up, temporarily blinding you before your eyes adjusted. Mindlessly, you scrolled through youtube to find a thumbnail that would spark any interest.

You were about to click one, when you heard someone at the front door. Your eyes widened briefly, and you quickly shut your phone off. You don’t know why. It wasn’t like you were a kid and your mom was coming into your room to see if you were actually asleep. But it felt like you needed to shut your eyes.

So you did.

The door opened slowly, whoever it was trying to remain undetected.

However, the scent that followed gave them away immediately. You actually had to stop yourself from reacting. It was a mixture of BO, dirt, and something else. Something dead.

Without even having to look, you knew it was Toby.

Footsteps, careful and calculated. The floorboards creaking.

You waited for him to walk by, expecting him to go to his room so you could continue playing on your phone.

But he didn’t.

The movements stopped halfway through, and you heard him, on the balls of his feet, making his way over to the couch you were on.

The fuck?

You felt your throat dry up. You wanted to swallow down your nerves, but you couldn’t react. You had to continue pretending, right?

You could hear him, his voice low and soft, like velvet. A boyish tone, the occasional word being broken up by some kind of stutter, muttering things you couldn’t make out.

He stopped when he got to your side, standing right in front of your face.

If you opened your eyes right now you’d probably see him peering down. His jeans dirty and torn, honey brown stare filled with curiosity, looking at the glimpses of your curves that peaked through the blanket on top of you.

A hand reached out.

Cold, yet somehow clammy… texture rough and calloused.

He was touching you.

He was touching your face.

Don’t move. Don’t you dare even flinch.

“M-must be the ssss-sister…”

That was the first clear sentence you could understand.

He retracted his hand. But you could still hear him, the heavy breathing.

His whispering.

“Soft”

Then he left.

Only afterwards did you realize you’d been holding your breath.

______________________________________________________________

“You look awful.” Your brother commented when he saw you the next morning.

It was true that you barely slept that night, made obvious by the bags under your eyes, and the change in your complexion. The interaction with the stranger, the one you’d been warned of, had plagued your mind, stirring up thoughts that kept you awake.

You grabbed a coffee mug, pouring yourself a glass, before joining your brother at the kitchen table.

From this angle, you had a clear view of the hallway. There were three doors, one must have led to the bathroom, and the other remaining two were the bedrooms.

You only stared at one of the doors though. The one leading to Toby’s room.

You knew, at some point he’d emerge and you’d finally be able to put a face to the name. A face to the hand that touched you.

For a moment, you wondered if you should tell your brother what happened. He’d probably flip out, maybe even confront the man.

So, despite your better judgment, you decided to keep it to yourself.

He only touched your face. Sure, it was creepy as hell, but you didn’t want to cause a fight during your vacation.

Your brother clapped his hands together, getting your attention.

“So listen!” He grinned widely. “We gotta plan out the strategy for tonight.”

“Strategy?” You asked hesitantly.

“Yeah strategy. There’s a party I want to go to. Kappa Alpha is hosting it.”

You tsked, sipping your coffee. “You realize I don’t know anything about the frats here. Is that like… a popular one or?”

He nodded. “Yeah it is. I’ve been trying to get into this one for a while now, so getting the invite is a big deal.”

You frowned. You were already so tired, and the idea of going to a kegger was not exactly on your ‘to do’ list. But it was important to him. So you complied.

“Okay. What time does it-”

A door opened. You stopped talking.

Your eyes widened to look over towards the sound.

Toby was up.

The first thing you noticed was a mop of dark brown hair, unkempt, with curls that went in every direction. It was slightly greasy too, he clearly hadn’t showered in a while. There was light stubble on his jawline, and his skin was a sickly, almost gray color. A snake bite graced his lower lip, and there were a few more pieces of metal sticking out the cartilage of his ears.

He shuffled forward, looking tired, still in a pair of plaid green pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with little alien faces on them.

Once he made it into the kitchen, Toby finally glanced over. You looked away immediately, embarrassed that you were caught staring.

He was handsome. You hated to admit it. But he was. You pushed the thought out of your head, reminding yourself of who he was.

“Muh-morning….” He croaked out.

Your brother gave a little nod, just enough to acknowledge him, turning back to you while Toby started toasting a poptart.

“It starts at 9, but we should show up at 10 o'clock. I don’t want to look too eager.”

“Whuh-what starts at 9?” Toby interjected.

Both you and your brother looked at him, before nervously meeting each other's gaze.

“Oh uh!” Your brother stammered. “Just another party.” He motioned over to you with his thumb. “This is my sister, (Y/N), by the way.”

Toby’s eyes bore into yours. You swallowed, trying to give him a polite, reassuring smile.

“Nice to meet you…. Toby, right?”

You acted unsure. Like you didn’t know his name by heart. Like you hadn’t had your brother vent to you about him for hours over the phone.

“Yuh-yeah. That’s right.” He looked back at your brother. “Is the puh-party tonight?”

“Yeah it’s at a frat house. Did you…” He hesitated, before finally asking him. “Want to come?”

Toby bit his poptart, shrugging his shoulders. “I've guh-got nothing better tuh-to do.” The twitching man looked back at you, wiping some crumbs from his lip. He didn’t have emotion behind his eyes, just a weird intense focus on your face.

You pretended to be unbothered.

It didn’t work.

He noticed.

And he liked the way you squirmed.

______________________________________________________________

Toby stayed in his room the rest of the day. Occasionally going into the kitchen, grabbing a snack, usually some kind of junk food, before he’d scurry back into his little cave.

You started getting ready as soon as the sun went down. It’d been a while since you’d been to a party and you wanted to look your best. Or look like you got a full 8 hours of sleep at the very least.

Toby said he’d meet you guys there. Saying something about how he needed ‘to take care of something first’. No one questioned him. Both you and your brother glad not to have to share a car ride with him.

Loud bumping music, the kind that shook a house and pounded in your chest, enveloped you when you walked inside the frat house.

Flashing lights, a crowd in the middle of the dancefloor jumping up and down. The air was hot from too many people in a room at once. You could barely move through them all to get to the bar.

God you were going to need a drink to get through this.

Maybe even a couple.

Especially after your brother left you alone to go mingle.

One tequila shot, then two maybe three rum and cokes later. You didn’t even know how long you’d been there. Time seemed to freeze. There was only the music, only the dancing, only the bodies moving against you.

You felt hot. Your cheeks burned, and it wasn’t just from the temperature of the room anymore. The room spinned a little when you walked forward. Not enough to consider yourself completely wasted though. But enough to feel…. Friendlier.

More social.

Less inhibited.

Numb.

After a lot of struggling, you made your way to the back of the room.

You leaned against a wall, catching your breath, holding a red solo cup in your hand. You could hear people trying to hold conversations by shouting over the music.

And there were plenty of people making out. In fact, you’d say the majority of people were just straight up groping each other.

It made you a little jealous if you were being honest with yourself.

You looked around, wondering if maybe you could find someone cute. You didn’t intend on getting lucky or anything, but it would sure beat just standing there like an idiot. When was the last time you even kissed somebody?

Finally, you locked on to someone across the room. Someone with honey brown eyes. Someone familiar.

Toby.

He grinned when your eyes met. It was the first time you’d seen him do that. Large toothy canine’s, that bandage on his cheek shifting slightly.

Oh god you felt your heart flutter.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. There was something wrong with him. Your brother didn’t like him. Nobody did.

He creeped you out.

He didn’t shower.

He smelled like death.

You listed the reasons out, and damn if there weren’t a lot of them. But in the end it didn’t matter. In the end, it was painfully, woefully, obvious what was going to happen.

And you were already walking over there.

You slithered over to his side, sweating, peering up at him through your eyelashes. Trying to look cute. Desirable.

It was working.

He could’ve eaten you up if you gave him the chance.

But you didn’t know that.

You fiddled with the end of your skirt, the jacket you originally wore tied around your waist. A flush on your cheeks, you let your hand gently touch his shoulder.

“H-hey… glad to see you made it.”

He tilted his head to the side, leaning down to hear you better. It made your stomach stir with excitement, he made you feel small kneeling down like that. But you liked it. Liked that he was paying attention to you, and only you.

“Whuh-what did you say?” His breath was hot on your cheek. Using the loud music as an excuse to get closer, to touch your skin. Making the hair on your neck stick up.

You breathed heavily in his ear on purpose. “I said, I’m glad you made it.”

Toby’s lips parted, not responding at first, but not moving away either. “Oh? Yuh-yeah?” He sounded amused, voice lowering an octave. “Excited to suh-see little ole’ muh-me?”

It was kind of a stupid, cheesy thing to say. Like he didn’t really know how to flirt, but maybe saw a couple movies and memorized the lines. But it somehow worked for him.

“Oh, I’m sure nothing about you is little.”

Why did you say that?

Why?

It just came out naturally. Oh god, now your face felt flushed from embarrassment.

You felt him touch the side of your face. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, it sounded heavenly.

“Yuh-you know, I’m having trouble huh-hearing you.” He paused looking around, making sure no one was watching. You wondered why.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

That was enough to make heat travel between your thighs.

Fuck.

One meek nod from you was all he needed, before grabbing your wrist tightly.

Too tight, like he was unaware he could hurt you. Or maybe he liked causing a little pain?

He dragged you upstairs, practically lifting you with one arm, you felt like you were gliding over the steps. The muscles of his arms barely flexing under that hoodie of his, as if you were weightless.

He was strong.

You both traveled through the hallway, careful not to bump into anyone loitering in the hall. Some of the other party goers shooting you looks, but they were mostly directed towards Toby. They weren’t judging you or anything. In fact, they looked worried, maybe even a little scared. You started to wonder more about him. What was his reputation like if this was everyone’s reaction to him? Or perhaps he really just looked that scary.

So why did he turn you on?

He pushed you into an unoccupied room and flicked the light switch on.

You barely registered him locking the door behind him.

With one shove of his palm he pushed you backwards onto the bed. Your arms flailed a bit out of instinct, falling down on the mattress with an ‘oof’.

You swallowed thickly, watching him eye the way your legs had parted slightly. Your skirt hiking up dangerously on your thighs. You had to fight the urge to close them.

“Yuh-you look scared.” That velvet, sweet, voice of his was twisted by something sick.

“Are you?” His head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on his face.

“Yes.” Was your reply. You didn’t feel like you could lie to him now. Feeling too exposed to even think straight.

He licked his lips, slowly approaching you. His fingers danced across your shoulders, traveling down your arms, sending goosebumps down your spine. They were cold and calloused, just like you remembered from the night before.

“Then whuh-why did you follow me here?” He cupped the side of your face, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip. You were going to respond, but he quickly shoved his finger in your mouth, gagging you. He wanted you to suck on them, but he didn’t communicate that well. “Why duh-did you….approach me?”

You let your tongue glide over his finger. His eyes narrowed, watching your face, before he started talking to himself. “Fuckin’ stuh-stupid.”

You paused. Was he talking about you?

“Should be whuh-working tonight…” He muttered. “Target just downstairs…. Ssss-so easy…this better be worth it…..” Toby chuckled to himself like he just told a joke.

You didn’t understand what was going on. Should you just ignore him and continue?

Toby retracted his hand from your mouth.

“Sss-so pretty….” He pushed your back onto the bed, crawling over you, his broad chest heaving, face pink and eyes lidded. Pupils dilated with lust. “So…. suh-soft….(Y/N)....”

You shivered when he said your name like that, feeling your panties dampen even more than before. Especially when he started running a large hand up your inner thigh.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Yuh-you like it when I touch you…. I know you do…” Your eyes flickered down at him, letting him continue his ramblings, Toby’s face breaking into another evil looking smile. “Luh-letting me touch you last nuh-night…. Pretending to be asleep.”

Your stomach dropped. You couldn’t hide it in your face, he fucking knew.

He fucking knew the whole time.

He burst out laughing at your expression. “Yuh-you’re still not even telling me to stuh-stop now!” Toby gripped your hip with one of his hands, lifting up the hem of your shirt with the other.

Before you knew it, he tossed the fabric over to the corner.

Your bra was next.

In any other circumstances you might’ve found it cute, or funny, when he struggled with the clasp. But something told you pointing it out to him wouldn’t have been a good idea.

He groaned at the sight of your exposed torso, immediately diving into your tits. Your nipples perked at the attention.

He was right. You weren’t stopping him. Your body screamed at you to. The smell of dirt and grime, of all things dead and decaying, it permeated off of him the more he touched you.

Toby’s mouth latched on to your left breast, the other gripped tightly in his hand. You knew you’d have bruises there tomorrow. You didn’t care.

He licked and nipped at the tender flesh, the swell of your tits heaving, your head thrown back and lips parted, letting out soft moans here and there.

A noticeable bulge grinded against your leg, as he huffed, humping himself against you like a dog.

After a while, he finally lifted his head up.

Toby looked you in the eye, grinning, licking your nipple teasingly one last time, before his attention moved to your skirt.

His hands searched your sides for a zipper, he grunted out of irritation when he couldn’t find it immediately.

You took the opportunity to gently put a hand over his, guiding it to where it was. “Here.” You said softly. “Let me help you.”

His eyes snapped up to your face when you touched him.

Immediately, his lips crashed onto yours. Needy, desperate, quickly shoving his tongue down your throat. You kissed back, swirling your tongue around his, ignoring the weird taste of metal coming from his mouth. His breath was hot and heavy, kisses sloppy. You doubted he got much practice, but he seemed to be learning quickly.

He made up for it with enthusiasm.

Finally pulling away, you both unzipped your skirt together. Lifting your hips off the bed, you shimmyed them down your legs, Toby watching in fascination.

“I’m guh-gonna fuck you.” He stated matter of factly. Then he whispered something that made your blood run cold.

“...Fuck you bloody.”

Shit this guy was scary.

In a few seconds, he ripped his hoodie off, along with his shirt. His chest was heavily scarred, a noticeable slash starting from his left side over to his shoulder, and a dark happy trail rising up from the waistband of his jeans.

You didn’t comment on it, but it was worrisome. You could only imagine what would cause someone to get hurt so badly and so often.

That said, Toby was definitely toned. A bit sickly looking, but his muscles had just a hint of a six pack formed. Maybe he did more exercise than you initially thought.

He kicked off his jeans next, unceremoniously pulling his boxers down, revealing himself to you. Lazily, he stroked himself, a thick layer of precum smearing down his shaft. It was long, veiny, but not very girthy. A flushed red tip, looking painfully hard.

You pulled down your panties slowly, already soaked, and ready. The anticipation was killing you, but you wanted to make him wait for it. His Adam's apple bobbed watching you, and you liked reveling in his stares.

“Guh-gonna split you in two…” Toby murmured, to no one in particular.

He hooked his arm under one of your legs, his body shivering with need, pulling your hips against him. He glided his shaft over your cunt, rubbing your clit slowly. He noticed you tense, how you whimpered slightly, and how your slick covered him more at the action. Looking in awe like it was some revelation to him.

Toby licked his lips, before finally enveloping himself in your heat.

It was quick. Like he was slamming a drawer shut, but he immediately bottomed out. You gritted your teeth in pain, before crying out when he started viciously pounding into you.

It fucking hurt. It hurt a lot.

“Shit..! Tuh-tight!”

Obviously, your muscles had tensed around him, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden fullness of his cock stuffing you. Unable to adjust.

You whimpered when he didn’t let up, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. A dull ache between your legs as he continued thrusting. The wet sound of skin slapping together coming from where the two of you were joined, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent.

Toby inhaled sharply, before you felt his mouth open wide.

Teeth broke through your skin instantly, a warm liquid dripping down your neck.

You screamed.

You screamed louder than you ever have in your life.

You screamed bloody fucking murder.

“Toby!” Clawing at his back, trying to get him to stop, you started crying. “Toby! Please!”

Luckily for you, he released his jaw to call out “(Y-Y/N)!” Not understanding your cries weren’t from pleasure.

It egged him on, encouraged him. His pelvis slamming into yours, with no let up, your tits bouncing at the force. Itching his fingers to your clit, he rubbed it in harsh circular movements, making you tighten around him.

You babbled nonsense. Finally some of the pain subsiding for pleasure, and maybe it was the lingering effects of alcohol, or the slight blood loss, but you felt a buzzing in your head. Basically incoherent, the faster he went. The brutal, bruising speed.

The way he gripped your breast, the way his hand remained on your pearl, trying his best to get you to finish, but not quite knowing how.

Something started to build.

More and more.

Hearing him growl, pant, like an animal. It was doing something to you.

You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around him. The coil snapping, muscle spasming, pulling his cock in deeper, triggering his own climax.

His hips stuttered against you, letting out a gasp. A warmth filling you, Toby completely emptying himself inside with a deep groan, eyes rolling back in his head.

He gave a few sloppy, slow thrusts, before finally rolling off, and onto the bed next to you.

His cum leaking out of your cunt and staining the sheets.

Everything went blank for a moment, realization only just settling in. The gravity of the situation, the blood on your neck.

And an arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you close.

“I knew you’d be worth the truh-trouble.”

#creepypasta #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #my writing #ticci toby smut #creepypasta smut #fanfiction #ticci toby x you #ticci toby #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x reader smut

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baambied · 2 months ago

Text

୨୧ 𝖳𝖶𝖮'𝖲 𝖡𝖤𝖳𝖳𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖮𝖭𝖤

cw. nsfw threesome cursing. strap(reader!rec) clit play abby cums untouched masterbation(abby) abby's lowk a perv reader described to have kinky curly hair

m.list

dom!ellie × sub!reader × inexperienced!abby

ellie wasn't a stupid girl, very smart, very observant, especially when it came to things she liked..so how could she not notice how her best friend abby acted around her beloved girlfriend anytime she'd bring her over their apartment, the stuttering, the red rosy cheeks on abbys freckled face...of course ellie noticed...anyone with a brain would.

but it did confuse ellie, last time she checked, abby was straight..she was literally in a two year relationship with some guy named owen (who was an absolute dick and abby broke up with months ago but still), and it seemed like abby liked him...atleast from ellie point of view...and abby never seemed to have any attraction towards any women.

now what ellie wasn't aware of is how abby was only with owen just so she could get rid of those stupid butterflies that appeared in her stomach when she was around a pretty girl...what ellie didn't know is that anytime ellie would come to the gym with her on their days off abby's eyes couldn't leave ellie form sometimes resulting is abby's underwear getting a little to sticky though she'd never admit that to anyone.

little did ellie know owen couldn't get abby off for shit..she'd have to watch some type of lesbian porn after owen left the apartment just to feel relieved and to stop yearning sensation between her thighs.

and what ellie didn't know is that...abby REALLY wanted to fuck her girlfriend...you..

she remembers the first time she saw- well heard you with ellie at their apartment...not a moment she particularly proud of...

abby walked through the door stumbling over pairs of shoes that weren't hers as she had just got back from work, a scowl on her face as she muttered curses at her ungrateful coworkers..it wasn't a good day all she wanted to do was get her sweaty clothes off and take a warm shower than sleep her ass off.

she stopped for a moment, putting her bag down, her eyes examining the shoes on the entrance floor... Mary Jane's? when the fuck did ellie wear Mary Jane's???

she walked deeper into the apartment, frown evident on her tired face did ellie have someone over?? this thought slightly annoyed abby...ellie could have gave her a heads up.

as abby turned the corner going into the hall where her and ellie's bedroms sat, that's when she heard it.

gasping? no

loud...breathing? yes but no

this lead to abby standing in front of ellie's door, her eyes wide, cheeks a bright red and mouth slightly agaped as her ears took in the live sound of basically porn behind it, she has only heard a girl moan through her phone..not in real life..

she leaned closer, wanting to get a better listen

and oh boy, did she think whoever was moaning- having the time of their life behind this door sounded so fucking pretty...

next thing she knew, she was laying on her bed, faced down on the side of it, hips frantically moving against the corner on the bed as if she was a dog in heat, her teeth gritting as she tried her best to be quiet, low whines escaping once in awhile when she got to sensitive.. hands fisting up her white sheets eagerly..drool on the side of her cheek as her hips buckled faster, the frabic of her underwear along with the bed sheets rubbing against her wet, sticky pulsing pussy kept on by punishment,she could feel herself clenching around nothing as she went faster...she knew what she was doing was weird....probably even perverted...i mean who the fucks gets off to their best friend fucking some girl?

well, abby did - does...

this week long never ending cycle continued, abby coming home from work, stressed out...pent up...and to hear the beautiful breathy noises that escaped ellie's room seemed to make it worse for her but somehow some fucking way she'd always ended up in her bed with a hand down her pants.

she had meant you face to face one day which had only fueled her hunger for you more.

abby was sitting on the couch, leaning in it lazingly while typing in a laptop with a small frown on her face, all this work for one fucking project? not only was her job kicking her ass but her college work was too, and suddenly she heard pattering of bare feet coming from the hallway..the scowl on her face deepend at the thought of ellie coming in the living room to bother her with nonsense.

"ellie, if you're gonna show me another one of those weird colorful worms you drew that you claim looks like jesse, I'm really not in the mood for it" abby's almost annoyed but tired voice called out, slightly rolling her eyes in the process.

"uh..no..just left my waterbottle.."

abby face frowned deeper at the unfamiliar voice, she snapped her head around and looked to the hallway..her eyes widened and mouth slowly open.

when did ellie have a girl over- were you here the entire time?!?

what the fuck?

abby's eyes looked around your figure, your hair nicely styled as if it hadn't been touched since you did it, you wore what it looked like one of ellie's oversized- wait ...no...abby's hoodie that ellie basically stole from her on...you...abby's cheeks flushed at that little detail and her eyes finally land at your legs...bare...the hoodie was big enough to fit you like a dress..

"uhhhhhhhh ah uhhh" abby's awkwardly- stupidly voice came out in response

you gave her a sweet smile and walked over to the couch she was sitting at, abby's eyes widened face pink as she looked at you... her back, suddenly straightening and her mouth open, ready to stutter out a question, but all you reach at is the counter next to the couch , grabbing a light pink water bottle.

"sorry uhh abby is it? ellie told me about you...." you state all smiley as you held your pink water bottle, fingers moving over the metal as you observed abby who looked like the most awkward person ever "well...uh goodnight.." you finished yourself sounding a little awkward as abby hadn't said anything in response, who stepped away and swiftly turned around to the hallway, making your way to ellie's room once more.

abby could hear the door close, followed by the sound of ellie's faint voice asking, "Why'd you take s' long'

abby gulped hardly as her eyes stared glued at the spot you once stood, you were so.....cute...not only did abby find your moans absolutely beautiful to the point she could get off on them alone...she found you beautiful...and wanted nothing more than to get you off.

and now here abby stands once again...infront of ellie's closed door, inside her mouth gently biting off her cheek flesh.. face flushed and painted a dusty pink as her ears ate up the lude sounds that came from behind the door.

all she wanted to do was ask ellie if she was hungry - it was finally friday and abby had planned to order chinese and in her mind she recalls ellie munching on a bag of lays chips eailer complaining about no more chicken in the freezer to make for dinner eailer in the day..now it was about 9pm.

abby felt waves of different emotions taking over her body, embarrassment, nervousness....even slightly excited...but also guilt since she left the food place worker on her phone in the living room- wasn't her fault she planned to quickly ask ellie what she wanted and get back to them to order it...but now abby stood still ..almost frozen...

a shaky breath left her throat as her muscular arm raised up before fastly knocking on the door

"h-hey...ellie do you want....chinese...food" abby's voice increasingly getting lower with each word that escaped her throat...the sounds didn't stop if anything they got louder..for a second abby wondered if the phone operator could also hear from the living room table..abby gulped slowly...she could feel her knees buckling as she raised her voice again "ellie the chinese food is- i meant do you want - fuck!"

now abby was just annoyed, not because of how pent up she was beginning to feel from the sounds escaping from behind the door but also because she was fucking hungry, and she was being kind enough to pay for ellie's meal- who couldn't stop for a second to open the door.

really, how horny could she be? (as if she's one to judge)

without thinking abby's rough hand gripped the door knob and she threw it open, the sounds becoming more clear to her ears in an instant

"ellie! i- ..." abby's words were quickly stopped once she caught the sight infront of her she tried to look away but...god...

ellie and you hadn't seemed to notice abby's figure by the now opened door...you two were pre-occupied...there on ellie's bed with twisted up savage starlight blankets laid you, your face buried head first in a pillow as you hips was perched up in the air, abby could notice the sweat on your skin and your slightly shaky body...behind you ellie's hips snapping rapidly and roughly, her tattooed hand slithered between your thighs.

abby's nostrils now filled with the smell of sex and sweat..she felt like her throat would close up at any moment from the sight infront of her..her knees buckling the tingling feeling in her stomach now landing between her thighs.

abby - to caught up in her own thoughts didn't realize ellie's mouth moving..seemingly saying something to you, her own ears blocking out any sound from the room.

"abby...abby - please- abby!"

slowly as if abby's consciousness came back she heard her name...not someone calling out to her......but someone..saying her name continously almost to themselves..like a prayer...and it just so happen...to be the beautiful moans abby was obsessed with.

wide eyes and blazing cheeks, abby felt like she needed to pass out, lightheaded

why were you moaning her name?

ellie's green eyes stared at abby's figure intently her hip movements slowing down, she observed abby's shocked face with a small smirk on her face..slightly out of breath ellie leaned down to you...fingers brushing your hair out the way to catch your ear.

"look at her, you got her all shy huh?" ellie whispered into your ear but loud enough for abby to hear..you let out a soft moan as your face leaned deeper into ellie's blankets.

your body suddenly flinching as you let out a yelp when you felt ellie's palm roughly meet your ass "turn your fucking head and look at her" ellie roughly states..her words coming out as a demand you couldn't ignore..slowly you turned your head..and abby's eyes meant your face...your worn out face

god you looked a mess

a beautiful mess

your pretty kinky curls all in your face, spit coating your mouth and cheek,pretty pink swollen lips.. rough breathes, escaping your throat as your teary eyes meant her's.

abby's knees buckled at the sight of your face, the pulsating between her legs growing stronger...hunger for food disappearing and replaced with a hunger for something else.

"fucking slut ..right?" ellie's voice snaps abby's gaze towards her...abby taking in ellie's naked figure, her chest her muscular arms on your waist...toned stomach...waist...holy shit..

"huh-" abby choked out

"she has her girlfriend's cock inside her, yet she's moaning out someone else's name.." you moan out loudly at ellie's words, your own hips moving earning another slap on your ass "don't fucking move"

ellie's eyes goes to abby once more who still stared at her...well..stared at her lower region instead.

"just gonna stand there abs..? i know how much you spent your time with your hands down your pants thinking about fucking my own girlfriend" abby's eyes went wide as i sudden panic waved into her, her stuttering words coming out in "i-i dont- i" she knew ellie was right..so embarrassingly right...

"sit on the bed, abby." ellie interrupted the stuttering girl, abby could tell ellie's sentence was a demand..which caused her to breathe deeply, slowly stepping near the bed, hands sweaty and shaky at her sides.

abby didn't know how or why this happened, but what she certainly knew was that the food operator was definitely not on her phone anymore.

abby sat at the edge of the bed, she could feel her hips softly moving in an attempt to gain some sort of friction, and she could feel how shaky her legs had become...it had been probably 13 minutes...you were in a different position now...on top of ellie riding her as if she would disappear any second but yet...the words that came out your mouth had abby's named mixed into them...abby considered this as some sort of punishment for her perverted behavior for the last 2 weeks...how she had to just sit here and watch, abby swore if she laid a finger on her cunt she'd cum right on the spot.

she could feel ellie's eyes on her...ellie who leaned against the bed frame, chest breathing rapidly up and down at your movements on top of her but yet she kept her composer...or atleast tried to..

...her freckled face pink as her half lidded eyes stated at abby...she could tell how this affected abby.....her body language...she can even see abby's hips move against the bed...she looked like a sad puppy who wanted nothing more than to be touched which ellie wasn't giving her...or wasn't allowing to give her either.

and in all honesty, you did feel like a slut....you remembered when you first saw abby the time you left your waterbottle in the living room...your eyes drifting around...her buff arms...thick thighs..you thought she was pretty...and you told ellie that obviously..

and those little words you muttered about her bestfriend somehow led to this..you desperately riding your girlfriends strap while abby watched from behind.

"wanna touch her?" ellie's breathy voice called out to abby who almost looked liked she was entranced by your movements, she almost couldn't register what ellie said to her..her eyes blinking slowly as she looked to ellie, desperation in her eyes just like the desperation was fluid in your body language.

"touch her..she wants it.." ellie's voice mumbles as she looked up at you on top of her, one of her hands running up your sweaty chest gripping your breast as her thumb rubbed against you nipple causing your body to shudder "e-els - plea-"

"no baby..not my name...beg to her....not me"

you hummed as your hips buckled, you needed to be fucked...you just couldn't do it yourself..ellie knew this.

"el- abby..please i- i need it.." your words caused abby's slick cunt to clench around nothing, a soft moan even leaving her throat..almost whining...abby has never felt this turned on before and it was so fucking exhilarating.

slowly abby made her way closer, knees dipping on the bed...her eyes staring at your back as it the sight of it came closer with each movement.

abby sat on her knees in front of your back...her shaky hands - fingers slowly moving to your hips..when you felt her touch you immediately leaned back into her, your head on her shoulder..abby softly gasped as her hands froze...your head turned to her ear...she could hear the shaky breaths escaping your mouth

"ab - abby please.."

"fuck.." abby nervously breathed out, her underwear soaked and sticky as she tried to avoid the feeling.

"stop being a pussy and rub her clit - she's been a good girl" ellie's hand caressed your cheek, going to your lips, her green eyes glancing between you and abby "she deserves to cum.."

abby tried to shake her nerves as her hand from your hip slowly began to reach in between your thighs, she could feel your body tremble..were you nervous too?

lost in thought she missed how ellie buckled her hips up causing a loud moan to release from your throat...for a second abby wished she was the one with the strap to fuck you...she want to see your pretty cunt squeezing around the silicone....she wanted to make you cum so hard like she did when she got herself off from your moans weeks ago.

finally, abby's hand reaches your pulsing clit...sticky and wet as her finger pads rolled against your swollen bud gently, rubbing in tight circles.

you moved your head deeper in between abby's neck, muffling your whines at her touch, your hips buckled as you felt ellie slowly begin to thrust up into you, you were close to coming undone before but just to feel abby's hand between your thighs giving you such pleasure that felt so heavenly...you felt like you could cum in seconds...

ellie's hips grew faster, roughly snapping up... the silicone going in and out of you in a sloppy - wet pace, she could feel your juices running down your legs to her waist...some of it even creating a little puddle combined with sweat "hmm love this pretty wet cunt - doing so good for us baby" ellie's words making you even more needy, the praise going to your pretty little head as you moaned louder.

the sounds you made only made ellie go faster as soft grunts escaped her mouth, her green eyes glued to abby's fingers that circled your clit, sometimes snapping to your chest, she loved having the view of your tits moving with her rapid movements.

"you like her touching you? hm? you like it better don't you..." ellie's words asked breathlessly as she teased you.

"i- please ellie i need-"

your words cut off by a harsh slap on your thigh, you yelped in pleasure at the feeling, thighs shaking, which only caused ellie to smirk.

abby's hips twitched as the pulsating in between her legs got stronger...small whines leaving her pink lips as she moved her fingers against your bud faster , other hand reaching over your stomach holding you..she felt like she would cum in her underwear with the way your moans entered her ears.

the way your body moved due to ellie fucking you, the way she could sometimes feel your lips on the side of her upper neck when you leaned in farther...to be honest abby felt like she could pass out...her mind still had yet to accept the current situation..

now - suddenly all four of abby's fingers pressed down on your cunt, she could hear you gasp at her action.

"p-please, i wan' it - please-" your words coming out in sentences, ellie or abby couldn't quite understand... not that it mattered.

"gonna cum baby? gonna cum on my dick?"

ellie's sentence could barely finish when your sudden loud moan teared through your body, echoing against the walls of her room..abby could feel your pussy pulsating against her fingers..she let out a loud whine and buried her head in your shoulders, her cunt clenching as she could feel her underwear get more soaked within seconds, hips twitching rapidly as she held you tighter, tears even stinging her eyes..feeling all of this sent her brain into a frenzy.

"oh - oh fuck...shit"

ellie could feel your legs twitching against her's, your body falling forward out of abby's grasp, head leaning against ellie's naked chest..body shaking as ellie's hands wrapped around you...one hand softly rubbing and tangling in your hair...mumbling endless amounts of praise in your ears...saying you did so good.

abby slowly sat down on the bed, readjusting her position and laying back, shaky breaths leaving her body..she could still feel her hips twitching from her recent orgasm.

once abby's caught her breath , her mind seemed to finally register what just occured...and all the girl could think was.

what the fuck?

slightly rushed ngl

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moonlightrafe · 8 months ago

Text

Bad Idea, Right?

summary: A night of drinking with your friends lands you at your ex boyfriend’s apartment — which is ultimately a bad idea.

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Ex girlfriend!Reader

word count: 3k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, angst, brief mention of drug use, language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, Aemond is a fuckboy. 18+ MDNI

note: idk how I feel about this but Modern!Aemond is my weakness, and the grwm of Ewan ruined my life. Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send me requests!

If someone were to ask you your own personal example of girlhood your answer would be simple: getting ready for a night out with your girlfriends. While going out and partying with your friends was fun, you considered the act of getting ready together art in itself.

It was tradition, a ritual. Filled with laughter, inside jokes, excitement, and anticipation.

Glitter, hairspray, memories. It was your time to bond and let go of everyday stress.

And that’s where you found yourself right now: sat in front of your best friend’s vanity, large curlers in your hair. The sweet smell of vanilla coming from Rhaena’s birthday cake scented candle filling the room.

Six months had passed since your breakup with Aemond and the twins had declared that you had spent more than enough time moping. It was time to get you back out in the world.

“I’m so happy that us girls are going out tonight,” Baela said as she finished up applying her mascara.

You involuntarily scoffed at her comment.

“What?” She questioned, glaring at you.

“It’s not like it’s just us,” you say matter of factly.

“Oh, come on! You know Jace is basically one of us!”

She wasn’t wrong. If you had to pick a guy to be in your friend group, it would be Jace Velaryon. He was easy to talk to, kind, considerate. A breath of fresh air from what you were used to. You understood why Baela was into him. Plus, he donned a beautiful set of chocolate colored curls matched with an adorable, toothy, grin.

“Do not beat around the bush, Bae!” You admonished, “I know Cregan will be there too.”

Cregan Stark was Jace’s best friend. A rugged guy from the North. He had a thick beard and piercing gray-blue eyes. He had quiet confidence, basically a big teddy bear. There was no denying he was rather handsome. It’s not that you would be opposed to sleeping with him, per say, you just weren’t sure if you were ready yet; although Baela begged to differ.

Once the three of you were all ready to go and the Uber was on it’s way, Baela pulled you to the side.

“Look,” she began, holding each of your hands in hers, “I know you're nervous. You’ve been through a lot and it can be hard to put yourself back out there — but you deserve this. Aemond’s out living his life, you have to live yours! It’s going to be fine! You look incredible, we are going to have a great time.”

Baela, as usual, was right. You were enjoying yourself. You were now on your third drink, tapping your finger nails on the glass as you half heartedly listened to Cregan tell an embarrassing story about Jace from when the two of them were in high school when you felt your phone vibrate.

A text from an unknown number flashed against your screen, paying no mind to it you opened it immediately. Your stomach dropped.

Hey… it’s Aemond.

You swore that men had some kind of radar that would let them know when a woman was finally happy without them. When that radar went off, only then was it that they decided to try to contact you again. Not during the months where your heart was left in ruin, not when you would do anything for answers. Only once you were healing, on the brink of reaching that light at the end of the tunnel; they weaseled their way into your life once more to ruin everything — and Aemond was right on schedule.

It had been months since he last contacted you, you felt as though your stomach was gonna fall out, your nervous system in a frenzy.

You could not let him ruin your fun.

“Let’s take a shot of something,” you suggested.

And then your phone buzzed again.

I know it’s been awhile, but I wanted to see how you’re doing?

Been awhile? That’s the understatement of the year. He didn’t care how you were doing when he broke up with you over a text. He didn’t care when the rumor of him sleeping with a professor spread around campus, humiliating you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Relief washed over you once you saw Baela return with 5 shots of Tequila in hand.

“Heard this makes your clothes come off,” she said as she handed you the shot glass, shooting a wink over to Cregan. You downed the shot quickly, ignoring her comment. The liquid burned down your throat as it settled into your stomach.

Slamming the shot glass onto the table, your head spun and you could’ve sworn you felt your phone vibrate again. You needed air.

“I’ll be right back, I need a cigarette.”

“I’ll come with you!” Rhaena chirped.

“No!” You shouted, almost too enthusiastically.

“No, that’s okay. I know you hate the smell of smoke, Rhae. I’ll just be a minute.”

With that, you frantically made your way to the patio of the bar. Just as you lit your cigarette a familiar voice called out to you.

“Ohhh shit! I knew that was you!”

Now you were sure that the universe was certainly conspiring against you. It was none other than Aegon Targaryen. Aemond’s drunken, perverted, older brother. Wonderful.

Turning on your heel abruptly and puffing smoke out of your nostrils you gave him a reluctant wave.

“Hi, Aeg.”

“How are you?” He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “how have you been?”

Not sure if it was the liquid courage or the need for someone else to witness the audacity of your ex, but you just shoved your phone into his chest, eyes glued to him as he scrolled through the messages with his eyebrows raised.

“Damn, I never would have thought Aemond to be the type to beg!” he laughed as you shot him a look of disapproval.

“Listen,” he said before taking a long drag of his own cigarette, “Aemond means well. He was pretty shaken up after you guys broke up.”

Yeah, right. What was there for him to be shaken up about? He broke up with you.

“And if you ask me,” he continued through puffs of his cigarette, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Isn’t he seeing someone like, twice our age?”

“Not anymore.”

A pregnant pause filled the air between the two of you as he handed you your phone back.

The conversation was becoming awkward, so Aegon tried to comfort you the only way he knew how.

“I know you’re stressed and all… do you, uhhh, want a bump?”

His question took you by surprise.

“A bump? Um, I’m good, Aeg.. thanks.”

The blonde lifted his hands up in defeat.

“Good call, if you do go see Aemond, I doubt he would be happy about that.”

“I’m not going to see Aemond,” you answer flatly, hitting his arm lightly.

“Well, whatever or whoever you decide to do tonight I wish you luck!” he smirked, “but, I know our mom would be thrilled if you started to come around again.”

“She misses me?” you blurted out, the desperation clear in your voice.

“Yeah,” Aegon shrugged, “we all do.” He smiled as his large palm patted against your back before he made his way back inside the bar.

You stood in silence as you finished your cigarette, unsure of what to do when you received yet another text from Aemond. You responded with the first thing that came to your mind.

Have you been drinking?

No. Come over. I want to see you.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time it was a picture. A photo of his cat Vhagar. The elderly feline was sprawled out across his leather couch, the caption reading: “she misses you too.”

She did not. She only ever liked Aemond.

Well, I’ve been drinking so… can’t drive.

Where are you? I’ll come get you.

No. He couldn’t. You couldn’t risk Baela seeing, she would kill you.

Nah. That’s okay.

God, this conversation was going nowhere. Why were you entertaining him anyway?

Let me get you an Uber.

Buzz.

Please.

Gods, he was pushy.

Fine 🫠

Once you found yourself back inside the bar, you decided to use that last shot of tequila as your reason to leave. You had said something along the lines of the mixture of liquors wasn’t agreeing with you and that you were gonna head out. The girls were disappointed, but they understood. Baela’s only condition is that you were sure to text her once you were home safe. You bid Jace and Cregan goodbye, and even agreed to go out for drinks with them again in the upcoming week.

As you sat in the backseat of the Uber, your palms filled with sweat and your heart raced as you made your way to the other side of the city to Aemond’s new apartment. You couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering how he might react and if this was the right decision. Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, but you tried to stay composed as you you pulled up to the building.

Aemond was waiting outside the apartment complex for you. His expression was unreadable as he puffed on the last few drags of a cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground and stomping it out so he could make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, offering a shy smile before extending his arms out to hug you. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

His scent alone was intoxicating. A mixture of nicotine, spearmint toothpaste and musky cologne. Being in his embrace again had your head spinning, you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest. It was almost as if the two of you never parted ways, like he never left. Damn him, you thought to yourself .

“Well, this is my new place,” he said as he opened the door to the lavish apartment. It was absolutely was stunning. Beautiful, mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The living room was spacious with high ceilings and a giant window that had an incredible view of the city. It was very Aemond-esque. It felt familiar, safe.

You spotted Vhagar on the dark green velvet couch in the center of the room.

You watched carefully as one of her eyes opened, she rose from her spot almost instantly once she spotted you. Making a beeline to Aemond’s bedroom.

“I thought you said she missed me?” you asked playfully.

"I may have lied," Aemond replied, giving you a shy smile.

An hour had gone by and you had spent the majority of it arguing with Aemond about your past. You listened to him attempt to apologize, explaining that it wasn’t you, it was him. He made a mistake, he’s changed. You weren’t having it, and yet, in the midst of it all, you had found yourself sitting so close to him you were almost on top of him. Mid sentence he had crashed his lips against yours. A rude interruption, for sure — but now, all bets were off.

The kiss was rough and intoxicating, a clash of teeth and tongue. He grazed your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. Your head spun.

"More," you whispered against his lips, "I need more of you."

Aemond took no time to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom, as he placed you down on his bed gently. You feel his hands tearing off your clothes, striping you down to your underwear. Your heart raced with anticipation and desire. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine. He lowered himself on top of you, reaching his arm up over his shoulder to remove his own shirt.

As he leant back down over you, his tongue trailed from your chin to your lips. A soft moan escaped your throat as he sucked on your lips, taking control of the kiss.

Arousal stirred inside you as he nipped down at your neck, licking and sucking until you arched your back under him, desperate for his touch.

“Missed me baby?” he teased, “because I sure missed you”, his violet eye scanned over your body, blown with lust as he made his way down. His slim fingers ghosted along your stomach, then gripped harshly onto the meaty flesh of your thigh. Your legs parted, letting him know what you wanted. He didn't hesitate, pulling your underwear off with one swoop. Leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“I missed this pretty little pussy too, fuck,” he groaned before biting at your thighs just before lowering his head between them, licking a stripe up your slit. You bucked under him, pushing him harder against you, driving his face deeper into your center.

A low groan left your throat, his name falling from your lips as you tugged at his silver hair and held his face against you. His tongue circled around your clit, the small bud swollen from his attentions. His fingers found their way inside you, exploring your cunt.

His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit as he rubbed harsh figure eights against you. He continued to rub your clit harder. Your breathing quickened, and your body legs began to shake.

"Oh, there’s my girl. You gonna cum for me?"

The combination of his words and a few more thrusts of his fingers made your mind go completely blank. Your ears rang, your vision blurred so much you had to squeeze your eyes shut, eventually seeing stars. Aemond finger fucked you through your orgasm as you soaked his hand.

You laid there for a moment, total blackness surrounding you until your Aemond’s calm voice brought you back to reality.

“Holy shit. You good baby?”

You nodded your head eagerly at him, “More than okay.”

After giving you some more time to come down from your first orgasm, Aemond crawled on top of you, as he began to slowly drag his cock between your already swollen folds, swirling the tip in your wetness; almost pushing in, but not quite.

“Aem,” you moaned, “please, I need to feel you. All of you .”

“Still so needy, hm?” He teased as he buried his cock inside you to the hilt. You winced at the length of him.

“Littleeee bit of a stretch baby,” he said as he let you adjust to his size, “there we go.”

"Oh.. Gods," you moaned. You forgot just how big Aemond was. The stretch was almost unbearable and yet, you craved more. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you.

He began to rock back and forth into you, pumping his cock in and out. The louder you moaned, the harder he pounded into you. Eventually, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix.

"Please, please don't stop," you begged. He began to pound into you harder and faster, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room. You felt your second orgasm of the night building inside of you as he continued to fuck you.

"Oh, Gods! Aemond, please, you’re going to make me cum again,” you babbled as your orgasm ripped through you once more. Your cunt clenched around his length as the tip of his cock bullied the spongy spot inside you without mercy.

Your slick coated walls contracting around him was all it took for him to lose control. He let out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside you, filling you with his seed as he bit down hard on your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned as the aftermath of his own orgasm coursed through him, his cock still twitching inside of you. After placing a wet kiss on your cheek he positioned himself upright, placing a hand flat on the headboard behind you to help keep balance, he slowly pulled his cock out of you. You winced at the emptiness, a pool of warmth leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed sheets.

“Oh, shit. Here, let me help clean you up.”

As you came down from your high, you also came to your senses. No. Him cleaning you up would be too intimate of an act — as if he wasn’t just buried inside of you.

“No, Aem. It’s fine, I need to go to the bathroom anyway.”

He shrugged, “there are washcloths under the sink if you need one.”

Your heart sank as the bathroom door shut. A red lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you was slung over the door handle. Memories of your past relationship came flooding back, along with feelings of sadness and regret. You couldn’t help but wonder who the bra belongs to, your first thought was that older professor. It's a painful reminder that not only had Aemond had not changed at all, he also just took advantage of you.

This was definitely a bad idea.

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artdcnaldson · 8 months ago

Text

Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin.

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn’t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze.

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass.

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable.

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag.

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed.

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer.

How long?

You took another drink.

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking.

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly.

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn.

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse.

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out.

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up.

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace.

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one.

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone.

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in.

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down.

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway.

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side.

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably.

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression.

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled.

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him.

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed.

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare.

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser.

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely.

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later.

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt.

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat.

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands.

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip.

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him.

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave.

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core.

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation.

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit.

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back.

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place.

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge.

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly.

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair.

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then.

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled.

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh.

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle.

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins.

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours.

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies.

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever.

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest.

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room.

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying.

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.”

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. “You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all.

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise.

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind.

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room.

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded.

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes.

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne.

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat.

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out.

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod.

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever.

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs.

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist.

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?”

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance.

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy.

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need.

“Close,” you gasped.

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.”

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth.

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep.

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly. A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel.

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves.

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest.

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him.

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air.

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place.

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment.

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls.

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones.

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him.

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early.

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word.

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

#patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers 2024 #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #changeover au #my writing

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rustyironskillet · 9 months ago

Text

Day 12: Time Travel

“Sooooo Phantom, do ya have any siblings?” Kid Flash asked as he tried to make small talk with the newest recruit to the team.

A few days ago, Young Justice was called to a meeting by Batman where he introduced their new team mate, Phantom. Phantom was a tough looking dude, he was jacked and towered over them all, even Conner!

Batman didn’t give them much information about the guy but apparently John Constentine was the one who suggested him for the team since he needed “community service hours”.

The dude was currently drinking some soda next to the computer as Red Robin searched for any new info on their latest mission. He turned his attention away from the can, and stared at Wally, his red eyes piercing into his soul.

“Why?”

“Well we are all about to go on a mission together and none of us really know you so I think it’d be best if we all got to know you better,” that was half true. Mostly Wally was just being nosey, but the dude really did make everyone nervous since he was this really tough dude with blood red eyes and apparently was here because John Constentine said he needed community service hours???? Constentine typically say some wild shit, but what the fuck do you mean by community service? Wally knows you can’t use those for school, he’s tried, and what else gave you community service? Juvie and prison!!

Phantom stared at him hard for a few seconds, his eyes searing into the back of Wally’s skull before saying, “Okay fine”.

The answer surprised everyone in the room, I mean the guy had barely even spoken the last few days and had rejected every question about his personal life.

“Depending on how you see it, I have 2 to 4 siblings”

“Is your father a serial adopter too?” Tim joked.

“Yes and no”

“Huh?”

“It’s pretty complicated,” Phantom shrugged, seemingly deciding to end the conversation there and taking another swig of his drink.

However, Tim, out of annoyances of every attempt to get to know this jerk being thwarted and a bit of confidence his family was more complicated, decided to challenge Phantom’s statement.

“Ehh, it probably isn’t as complicated as my family, we got about 50 more siblings adopted each month, all with lots much trauma”

At this, Phantom narrowed his eyes at Tim.

“I see what your doing, your trying to get me to talk tell you guy more about my family by acting like yours are more insane”

“Am I?” Tim asked, trying to hide the shivers going down his spine from the way Phantom was staring at him.

Phantom to a huge swig of his soda, emptying it and throwing it into the garbage, before fully turning to Tim.

“You’re lucky I am always good for competitions, now sit down this is going to take a bit”

Tim gladly obliged and soon everyone sat around Phantom as if it were storytime in kindergarten.

“Okay, so at first I only had an older sister and my parents” Phantom began, “but then they died because of a mistake I made and I had to move in with my evil godfather”

Megan raised her hand and asked, “Isn’t a godfather someone who is very close to the family? Why would your parents choose an evil person?”

“‘Cause my dad was oblivious to this and though they were good friends even though the dudes tried to kill him multiple times”

“I see,” Megan lowered her hand, no less confused.

“There I went mad with grief and had him remove my humanity and tried to kill all of humanity”

“I think that was a bit of an overreaction,” Wally joked.

“You tried to kill all of humanity? Why weren’t we told of this when it happened?” Kaldur'ahm asked.

“That was in a different timeline, I was a big enough problem that they gods tried to kill the younger version of me to stop me, so to avoid dying, my younger version decide to try to defeat me and the only reason he did was cause I was underestimating him,” Phantom emphasized the last part because he had to stress he didn’t not lose to a 15 year old boy because he was weaker than him.

“What happened next?,” Artemis asked, completely inraptured in the story.

“I was then imprisoned for sometime before escaping, causing problems and then realizing that causing younger mean the same pain I experienced won't bring my loved ones back,” Phantom continued to explain, “so I am now going to therapy, doing community service, and got the majority of my powers taken away”.

“Is your therapist open to seeing new patients?” Konner asked.

“No, but this timelines version of my sister is and she has a lot of experience so I can give you her number instead”

“Sure, that’ll work”

“Okay,” Phantom said before writing her number down and handing it to Konner, “The thing is I can’t go back to living with my real parents because they don’t know that I am Phantom so I have to go back to living this timelines version of my godfather”

“You gotta be kidding me” Tim groans.

“Exactly what I said!!” Phantom put his arm up defensively, “Fortunately, this version is a little better, he is no longer tiring to kill my dad and has stopped chasing after my mom, he did clone the other of me and now there is a genderbent version of him but my godfather treats her like a princess and will not stop spoiling her, which I am also guilty of”

Phantoms continues to explain more and in the back of Tim's mind he remembers he was supposed to be doing something but honestly this conversation was too good to care.

“Anyways that's how I technically have 2 to 4 siblings, Jazz and Elle are permanently my sisters and I love them so much, and even though the other Jazz is technically the same as this Jazz, I still think of her as someone else, someone I miss dearly. Also if I considered this Jazz my sister, I guess I’d have to considered the other me as my brother”

“Damn bitch your family is crazy” Wally said, happy he finally managed to get through Phantom’s tough skin.

As they finished up their storytime, the Zeta-tubes activated and Red Tornado and an upset looking Batman walked to the group.

“You all were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago”

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alllgator-blood · 2 months ago

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'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'

(part 3/3)

I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.

As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january

Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.

I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.

That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."

Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you

#cult of the lamb #cotl bishops #shamura #heket #kallamar #leshy #angst #comic

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bunny-1111 · 5 months ago

Text

Did I stutter? Theo Nott x fem!reader

Description: With the Christmas ball approaching, you can’t stop daydreaming about Theo. But when Pansy reveals that he’s been quietly chasing off your suitors, you’re left questioning his true feelings. When confronted, Theo’s possessiveness comes to light—but will he finally ask you to the ball?

Genre: Angst, slow burn, romance Warnings: Slight possessiveness, mild language

Word count: 1.9k

Part 2, here

Unedited and unread

reblogs, likes and comments appreciated my loves <3

...

The Christmas ball was a yearly sensation.

When the autumn leaves were long covered by the deep snow of winter, was when you knew it was not far off.

As you sat in the great hall across from your friends in a daydream, imagining Theo all dressed up in a three-piece suit, your mind slipped into mush as you dreamed about his hand placed delicately on your waist, moving you through the steps of a waltz.

"Hello, earth calling. Are you even listening to me?!" Pansy clicked her fingers to pull you attention back into focus

"Sorry, you were saying?" you rush, flustered by your own thoughts.

"Yeah, I was asking if you want to go to Hogsmeade this afternoon?" she continued.

"Oh sure" you agree, you eyes now glued to your plate, trying to pull your mind away from him

"we'll join you, yeah" Draco casually adds

"No!" Pansy quickly exclaims

"what, why not?" replies Draco his voice high and whiney

"Because, girls day, only, we're gonna try find some dresses for the Christmas ball" inisted Pans

"we are?" you question

"we are." she states

"Oh Merlin, I hate this ball bullshit" Enzo adds, throwing his fork down

"Couldn't agree more, Enz" says Theo softly

"Yeah, Theo it must be so annoying having every girl in every house ask you to the dance, gosh you boys are insufferable" ranted Pansy

Oh, that's right, the unpleasant reminder that you and Theodore have no romantic relations and you can't do anything about the girls who swoon over him, Merlin. Why do they all have to be so desperate for him? Why can't they just leave him for you? Why can't something happen between you two why can't h-

"Come on let's go get ready for Hogs" She interrupts your self-destructive thoughts, now dragging you along back to the dorms.

As you shiver into your scarf, the cold air bites at your lips, the snow filled streets of Hogsmeade bring a sense of quickness in turns of just how soon the ball is.

"I expect someone should ask you to the dance soon" Pansy says linking her arms in your as you walk together, shopping bags in your free arms.

"Thanks, Pans, you too," you smile

You're met with unusual silence from her, so you give her a small shove, a gentle nudge, saying, spit it out.

"Well, Draco's asked me to go... I've said yes" she carefully says

"Pans! When, why didn't you tell me? This again, I thought you said you and Dray were really done this time?" You ramble, eyes wide with passionate protection for her

"I know, but like his gonna let someone else take me, I wouldn't want him to go with anyone else take me either, it's just like you and-" she starts

"Don't finish that sentence alright, you and Draco dated, Theo and I nothing" you huff

"Oh yeah, then why is he going around threatening any guy who even considers asking you." her tone

Pansy’s words hit you like a bludger to the chest, forcing the air out of your lungs. You almost stumble your steps, but she keeps her arm linked with yours, pulling you along as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell

“What are you talking about?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays you, cracking at the end.

Pansy raises a brow, glancing at you like she’s holding the world’s best secret, and you’re not in on it. “Oh, don’t play dumb. It’s been happening for months.”

Months?

Theo, your Theo, going around and threatening people from asking you to the ball? That doesn’t make sense. He barely looked at you when you weren't all together, always composed, acting as though your presence didn’t make his eyes soften as you wished they would.

But then again, you have noticed that boys, nice boys, that is, had stopped approaching you after a while. You chalked it up to bad luck. You and your friends did have a certain unapproachability. The rumors swirled about Theodore Nott being unattainable, uninterested in any romance, but he never gave any indication that he’d be willing to defend you, much less ward off potential suitors.

“yeah right, that can’t be true.” Your denial comes out weaker than you intend, the words sitting heavy on your tongue.

Pansy giggles like the school girl she is. “Sweetheart, believe what you want, but I know a possessive bloke when I see one. Trust me, Draco’s the same way, just less… subtle.” She waves her hand dismissively, but her eyes hold a knowing glimmer, irritating you. Like she has insight into your life that you aren’t aware of yourself.

You shake your head, trying to process everything. “But why wouldn’t he just—”

“Ask you himself?” Pansy finishes for you, her voice lilting, almost teasing. “Oh, come on, you know Theo. He’s about as emotionally available as a cursed lock. He probably doesn’t even realise what he’s doing half the time.”

“But pans, months?”

Pansy shrugs a nonchalant gesture that tells you she’s probably been keeping this from you for a while. “Look, I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d figure it out, and honestly, it’s kind of fun watching him sulk whenever someone gets too close. Merlin, the way he glares could melt the snow.”

You let out a breath, the cold air burning your lungs as you try to wrap your mind around it. Theodore Nott, the Theo who lives in your mind, your friend of years, the same Theo you desperately want to yourself, had been quietly chasing off any competition? It feels surreal, like a dream you’d conjured in the midst of one of your daydreams in the Great Hall.

But if that’s true… then why hasn’t he made a move? Why hasn’t he said anything to you?

As if reading your thoughts, Pansy squeezes your arm. “Don’t overthink it. Boys are complicated, especially our boys alright, even when they think they’re being clear. Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment, or maybe he’s just an idiot.”

You laugh, a short, breathy sound that fogs up the air around you. “Yeah, idiot sounds about right.”

Hogsmeade is bustling with students, all of them chattering about the upcoming ball, dresses, dates, and everything in between. You glance at shop windows, your eyes trailing over elegant gowns and shimmering accessories, but your mind is miles away, stuck on a certain brown-haired Slytherin boy who, apparently, has been harboring some very mixed signals.

By the time you make it back to the castle, your hands are full of bags, and your head is full of unanswered questions. Pansy is still chattering away, something about her dress and how Draco better match her, but you can barely focus.

You keep replaying her words over and over again. Theo’s threatening people? Why wouldn’t he just ask me? The thought sends your heart into a frenzy, and no matter how much you try to convince yourself, it’s nothing, that maybe Pansy is exaggerating; you know deep down that she’s probably right.

It isn’t until the next morning at breakfast that you catch sight of Theo, sitting at the Slytherin table with his usual quiet confidence. His hair is slightly tousled, like he couldn’t be bothered to comb it properly, and his tie is crooked, but it doesn’t matter—he still looks effortlessly good, as always.

Your heart does a little flip as you watch him, your mind racing with everything Pansy told you. Should you say something? Ask him if it’s true? Or would that be too forward? Maybe you should just wait it out, see if he says anything first…

But before you can make a decision, Theo glances up and locks eyes with you. It’s a brief moment, but it’s enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. His expression is unreadable, as usual, but there’s something in his gaze that makes your stomach twist.

You quickly look away, focusing on your plate, but your thoughts are a mess. Could he see it all on your face? Are you accidentally showing what you didn't have the courage to say?

The rest of the day passes in a blur, and by the time evening rolls around, you’re no closer to figuring out what to do. Pansy, of course, is no help—she just keeps teasing you about it, making cryptic comments about how Theo’s going to “make his move” eventually.

You’re not so sure.

It’s not until later, when you’re heading back to the common room after a long day of classes, that you run into Theo. Literally.

You’re not paying attention, too caught up in your own thoughts, and you bump right into him as you turn the corner.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t—” you start to apologize, but the words die in your throat when you look up and realize it’s him.

Theo’s standing there, hands in his pockets, his usual calm, unreadable expression in place. But there’s something different about him tonight, something that makes your heart race.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine, as his hand lays on your shoulder, steading your place in front of him

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your voice still, but it’s a losing battle.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and tension.

Before you can make a decision, Theo breaks the silence. “You’re going to the ball, right?”

The question catches you off guard, and you nod before you can stop yourself. “Yeah, I am.”

His eyes darken slightly, and he takes a step closer. “With anyone?”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you forget how to breathe. Is this it? Is he finally going to ask you?

“No,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Theo’s gaze stays locked on yours for a long moment, and then, finally, he says, “Good. Keep it that way.”

And just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your mind spinning.

You stand frozen in place, his words echoing in your mind. Good. Keep it that way. It’s a simple sentence, but the way Theo said it, with that intensity in his eyes, sends your heart into a tailspin.

What did he mean by that? Was it a warning? A request? Or something else entirely?

You shake your head, trying to clear the confusion, but it’s no use. Theo’s always been hard to read, but this feels different—like there’s something just beneath the surface that you can’t quite grasp.

"No Theo wait!" you call out before he gets too far

His body swiftly turns around waiting for you, typical Teddy, of course he makes you run after him.

When you finally reach him all you can manage is "I don't understand."

"what's not to understand, darling," he says softly almost sympathetic

"Have you stopped guys from asking me, personally?" you say so quickly you didn't even have time to realise what you had just asked

"Yes. I have" he replies immediately

"wh-what?" you mutter out

"Did I fucking stutter? Anyone asks you and you tell me" his tone stern and meaningful, inching closer and closer to you, "alright"

"alright" you agree in a small voice

"Good girl" he smiles as he tilts his head, before walking off.

well, what the fuck now.

Author Note: I've been feeling so unsure about my writing lately, I've been struggling to produce good work. I have been so flat out at work that by the time I get home, I'm writing at like 2am, so it just turns out shit... and I get too tired to finish it properly like this one, but I just wanted to get something out. Ugh, I'm sorry. anyway hope you try to enjoy this one, I will get back to my confident writing soon, I hope lol love youuuuuuu, B.

Part 2, here

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