#i had a moment a couple of weeks ago at dinner with two of my best friends

[samkerrworshipper]

movin’ out

keira walsh x reader

i wrote a fic that isn’t super depressing or smut? sorry? it’s short, it’s a little bit funky and definitely not my normal style but it’s all i could piece together atm! i don’t think it’s technically a blurb but close enough! enjoy xo

warnings: none?

It’s been too long.

It’s all you can say or think the moment you see Keira.

Between you playing in England, her in Barcelona and then you playing for Australia and her playing for England the time you two can find together is so limited. Face times, constant texts and midnight calls are good for a couple of days, sometimes weeks but after months it becomes nowhere near enough to sustain a relationship. It’s the pains and trials associated with two professional athletes being in a relationship with each other, the disconnection was hard and the added hundreds of miles between you only made it harder.

You hadn’t realised how long it had been though, and just how much of a toll that might have started to take on your partner. Between the both of you playing a mid week game and then training every day in the lead up to weekend games you both hardly had enough time to make dinner and make room for your basic needs, let alone care from each other afar.

As you look at Keira now though, you’re really having second thoughts about the lack of check ins that you’ve been having with her and the amount of interactions you’ve been having that haven’t solely revolved around football.

“Hey baby.”

Keira looks ill, and not in the sick way, just her general features. She just looks unwell, like she hasn’t been sleeping at all, like she’s on the brink of a emotional breakdown and just generally miserable. You’d offered to pick her up from the airport but she’d denied your offer and you can see why now, she looks like she’s in tatters and is about to collapse in front of you.

“Hey.”

Every syllable is deflated, like she’s struggling to piece together the energy to move her lips.

You’ve known for a while now that Keira hasn’t been happy in Barcelona. Lucy leaving had been.. it had been tough. On top of the rest of the midfield finally being in good fitness and there being a lot less familiarity for Kei it was understandable that your girlfriend would be struggling, you just hadn’t understood how much.

You push her suitcase to the side in favour of bringing her straight into your arms. The way her hands cling to your jumper makes your heart thump.

“Hey baby, I’ve got you.”

You immediately feel sick with the guilt over the fact that tomorrow you have to leave, that you have a sweet twenty four hours to try and fix whatever this problem is before you are obligated to get on a flight and fly 20 hours further away. Your stomach actually hurts at the thought, here you are with your long distance girlfriend holding onto you like you’re her lifeline and your going to be dragged away in less than 24 hours.

“Let’s go to the couch huh? Get you off your feet.”

It’s phrased as a question but really you have no intention of standing in the entryway of your house for a minute longer. You lead Keira into your living room slowly, pulling her onto your couch with you and letting the slightly shorter woman to ragdoll on top of you. You don’t mind the cllinginess, it’s a far cry from how she is with almost every other human and to know that for the most part you are the only person who gets to see this side of Keira is special.

“Arsenal put in an offer.”

It wasn’t exactly public knowledge, Leah had told you though a couple of weeks ago when it had happened, you’d been a little bit dissapointed that Keira hadn’t told you when it was happening.

“I know.”

A part of you didn’t want to hear that Keira didn’t want to come, that she’d denied the offer. It was the part of you that still felt insecure about your relationship slightly.

“They told me, management. They didn’t even think about it. Even after i’d told them I was interested in coming back, that I wanted to come back to England. A million dollars and they turned it down.”

You take a deep breath, whilst Keira had made it clear to you that she wasn’t happy in Barcelona that hadn’t directly translated in your mind to her wanting to come to England or Arsenal.

“You wnat to come, to arsenal?”

Keira looks up at you and you get a good look in her eyes for the first time since she walked through the door fifteen minutes ago.

“England first and foremost, but Arsenal with you and Leah would be ideal. Not that it seems like it’s going to happen until my contract is up.”

You smile at Keira big and wide, there hasn’t been a point in your career yet where you’ve been in the same city, she was at Manchester and you were in America, then you moved to Arsenal and there was a period of 3 months where you were finally in the same country. Then it was Barcelona and the drift had started again. The idea of having Keira in the same city as you, potentially in the same house makes you giddy. But that’s all it it, a thought, because it’s not real and you’re in the same predicament of her being in camp for the next two weeks and then flying back to Barcelona before you’re back in the country.

“That would be nice.”

You purposely murmur it as quietly as possible.

“Yeah, would be nice.”

The reality is that for both of you there is no point in dreaming about more, dreaming only leads to let downs, big soul crushing let downs.

“You’ve just gotta gold on, you’ve got Kika and Ellie and Aitana, you just need to hold onto the people you have and make the most of it. You’re winning silverware at least?”

When the sound of a sniffle falls against you, your heart only clenches more.

“I want to be here, I want to be with you, not trying to find any spare minute in my schedule so that we can see each other for a second. I’m sick of always feeling like we have to make up for lost time, I want to live with you. Get our own dog, our own home, have our things, our own lives together instead of living separately.”

You nod against your girlfriends fluff of curly orange hair, it’s not often that it’s as puffy as it is, it’s only another sign to add to the list of how Keira must be feeling.

“You know, I really like that idea.”

You focus on Kei’s hair, undoing it from the makeshift bun it’s in and tangling your hair in the roots, carding your fingers through the ends and working up to her scalp.

“Just you and me, all the time, no more constant face time, surprise visits, rewatching games, coordinating schedules. Just you and me. It’s a good dream.”

That’s the thing, it can’t be anything more than a dream for either of you, in theory it would be lovely, amazing even. But dreaming is what gives the biggest disappointments.

“Maybe more than a dream.”

You ndo to satisfy Kei, because the last thing she needs on top of her own struggles and doubt right now is yours on top of it. But in your mind it just doesn’t work out, how can you expect it to work out when realistically the both of you are always going to prioritise your careers. It’s why you’ve both worked together so well, because there hasn’t been any mistranslations about the fact that you both are always going to prioritise your careers. It’s why in your head it doesn’t make sense that Keira would leave, she’s playing at the best club in the world, she’s at the highest level she could possibly be. A part of you is slightly insecure that her priorities are shifting, and it feels good but it’s also scary. You aren’t anywhere near to shifting away from your priorities, it’s been decided since you’ve been 12 that football was going to be the one love of your life. There were never boyfriends or girlfriends or plans to have kids or go to university, it was always just football. Keira had been the one flaw in the plan, but it wasn’t a true flaw. Keira made things easier, or as easy as they could be. It was just so natural that it was just all cohesive. The distance was hard but it was what made it easier to focus on your career, there wasn’t any direct distractions in your life.

“Maybe.”

There’s a big part of you that worries that you might not be able to sustain a relationship that’s not long distance because you’ve never had to. You don’t know what it’s like to wake up next to a person and then get ready for football and prepare for a fame. Sure, over the summer you spend every waking moment with Keira, but normally there is a tournament or you’re so focused on relaxing in the little down time you have that having Keira around is just an afterthought. What you have, the love and affection from a far and occasionally for a couple of days is what’s been perfect for you, the thought of having it as a constant is terrifying.

“I invited Leah over later, I assumed you’d want to see her before camp and you’re surrounded by everyone else.”

Keira peeks up at you, her eyes wide and suddenly brimming with tears. The blue in her eyes is so much clearer when their wet, it’s like it reflects directly off of the features of her face.

“I’ll be with Leah for the next two weeks.”

The underlying tone is very clear.

“Well, I’ll never say no to a night with my favourite girl. How about thai and the love island episodes we haven’t watched on facetime together?”

You know you’ve said the right thing when Keira’s face immediately lights up, but after a few seconds it dims and all of the energy that seemed restored fades.

“I don’t want to disappoint Leah. every time I’m here it’s to see you, which I love but when she comes to Barcelona she always spends it with me.”

You lean down and plant a kiss to her forehead.

“Leah is not going to be offended that you choose to spend the little time you have with me, like I said, you have two weeks together. She will be perfectly happy with that, I’m happy to tell her that you’re overtired from the travel and I want to keep you all to myself.”

When she lifts her head up,you don’t hesitate to press what you intended to be a peck to her lips, but before you even know what’s happening Keira’s hoodie covered hands are reaching up behind your head, pulling you in.

It’s a good feeling, you like your relationship for this exact reason. You don’t know how the sparks would work, if they’d even be there if you had this all the time.

It’s supposed to be a dream to have this all the time, and yet the more you think about it, and the more the idea becomes slightly tangible the more you find yourself skeptical of the whole dream. It just doesn’t seem like something you should have.

“C’mere.”

You don’t miss the way you immediately relax as Keira completely collapses on top of you, her bones practically melting into your own. It feels so good, your body feels so much better with her around it, your head goes quiet and everything just fits into place. It’s the part of you that worries that if you have this all the time then that part, the magical part will somehow drift away and all the moments that keep you coming back will stall.

“I’ll order the thai, and I’ll text Leah. Tomorrow morning you’re going to call your agent and tell him that you want it made clear to Barca that you want to come back to England and the next offer available they should take it. Then you’ll help me pack for camp and we’ll have some really great goodbye sex and you’ll drive me to the airport and we’ll be all soppy and kiss and hug and cry. Then you’ll go on camp and tell Barca that you want a couple of days off when camp ends, and I’ll fly home as soon as my last match is over and we’ll spend whatever time we can get together. We’re going to make this work, we’re going to make something normal happen, okay?”

Whether it feels right or not, it sounds right, and as much as you aren’t sure about the future you know that right now Keira needs support. She’s not getting it at Barcelona clearly and you need to give it to her or as much as you can piece together. You need to problem solve this, you need to prove that even with all of your internal doubts that you can make whatever she needs or wnats work. She might not be your priority over football, or at least that’s what you think, but she’s pretty damn close and she’s the most stable thing you’ve had in your life for the past couple of years. You’ve put her through hell, and you need to fix the hell she’s currently living in like she would do for you.

“We’ll make it work?”

You look down at your perfect fucking girlfriend, on top of you, relaxed and smiling and it clicks, it all just clicks into place.

“Yeah baby, we’re gonna make it work.”

——————

anyways have a great day or night! love you all! maybe next time i post it’ll be a orgy 🤭

[rex3o]

Doting wife p2

Royal au! Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna sat on his throne, his face intense as his son plays around him. His advisors standing quietly in front him their heads bowed. His mind lingered on the event that was a couple weeks ago. Since then, he has not stopped.

Every dinner, he makes sure that whatever is served is to your liking, just to see your happy silent reaction when eating. He has ordered the servants to tend to the royal gardens, to plant specific flowers according to your preferences. Just to watch you walk around the garden with your son and enjoy the flowers. He made you go horse riding with him, just to talk about things you liked.

During his meetings with his advisors he would call for you and ask your opinion on certain matters in his meetings with his advisors.

Yet he knows you still hold yourself back around him, he knows you silently enjoy the effort he is putting despite getting onto him during the event. Though your silent enjoyment and appreciation is enough for him. He longs for more.

He longs for you to willing spend time with him again. He longs for your attention and care he had stupidly taken granted for.

His mind settles back into reality as one of his advisors had briefly mentioned about getting his son's portrait painted for his fourth birthday. There it struck sukuna.

-

You huffed as you stood by your mirror, as your lady in waiting examined the maids handling your gown ensuring it was perfect for the portrait. As they tended your hair, and make up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Several hours alone with Sukuna. You pondered 'why' ever since you got the news that Sukuna had requested a new royal portrait of you two. You had one which was done a couple days after your wedding and not one since. So why one now?

Lost in thought, the maids finished and you made your way mindlessly towards the main hall, with your lady in waiting behind you. As you looked up, the painter smiled at you motioning you to sit next to Sukuna, as he is ready to paint. Your lady in waiting helped you up to your seat, whilst doing some finishing touches and ensured your dress was quite fine as she walked back to the painter as he started sketching.

The first few minutes, was met with silence. You remained still, only toying with the ring on your finger, as the only thing heard in the room was the harsh streaks of the pencil against the canvas.

"You look beautiful" he utters out quietly for you both to hear. You simply nod in response.

Sukuna tries to carry the conversation by asking how your day had been, if you had eaten, or how your son was and what he did. Till he softly sighs and glances at you.

"I miss you." he says.

"I am right here husband.. no need to miss me" You say without much emotion not wanting to be vulnerable.

"you know what I mean..." as he looks back up.

"I see how your face lights up at dinner, I watch how you enjoy your time in the gardens with our son. How you only like reading a certain genre of books.. how you only like to drink tea in the evening after dinner...how you despise insects after our horse riding trip."

He hesistatess before continuing.

"I wish you would share such moments with me again.. instead of me observing it from a distance. I want to hear how much you like the food that has been served. I want to walk along with you in the gardens with our son, as you ramble on whatever it is you like.. I want to drink tea with you- I just want to be with you again..."

You sat next to him somewhat speechless. Your hand gripping on the ring on your finger tightens as you take a sharp inhale and exhale holding composure.

"Why.. why has it taken you this long." Quickly and quietly you ask not wanting your voice to break. As your eyes remain on the painter and your lady in waiting. Afraid if you lay your eyes upon your husband tears will rush out.

"I have no excuse my wife.. the best way I can put it into words for you, is watching a candle burn down to its final flicker. Once it's gone and the darkness closes in, you finally understand how much that small, steady glow meant. You were that light in my life.. and i took it for granted."

He sighs as he continues "I am sorry it has taken me to loose you to understand the importance you hold in my life"

As he rests his large hand over yours.

"I may not have given you the love you well deserved over the past four years, but let me make the most of the years we have left to make it up to you. I will take however long it takes."

His hand wraps round yours as he takes it up and gently places a kiss on your knuckles. A tear slips down your face, which you quickly wipe away.

"it won't be easy-" you try to say yet Sukuna interrupts you.

"I know my sweet wife.. I know." As you finally look at him, his deep crimson eyes resting on yours. A quiet pull to one another, urging to be met.

Yet the moment broken by the painter looking up and exclaiming.

"Yes, yes, yes, the look of love keep that look your majesties, I need exactly that! and just you wait your portrait will overshadow any other." He says happily as he starts to paint.

Sukuna face having a subtle annoyance stretched over it, you chuckle quietly.

After the tedious hours of sitting for this portrait ends. The only thing keeping you going was your small conversations with Sukuna, as he his hand remained on yours not wanting to let go. You both walk over to see the work of art. As it depicted you sat facing forward with a soft smile on your face, with Sukuna next to you his hand over yours with his eyes on you.

An arm wrap around your waist, as Sukuna praises the painter.

"You definitely did outdo yourself, look at my wife" he exclaims as he looks at you. Not used to his attention you awkwardly chuckle and avoid his look. His hand grabbing your chin pulling your face up as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"My beautiful wife... you know what let's hold a celebration." Your eyes widen at the sudden plan.

"Over a portrait- no- that's too much." you interject.

"Hush, once people set their eyes upon this portrait they will understand why I had to hold such a celebration" Sukuna smirks at you.

You try to continue, but Sukuna doesn't let you as he looks at your lady in waiting.

"Next Wednesday I want the celebration, ensure my wife glows I want it to be about her-" As you try to speak Sukuna keeps cutting in on what to do for the event.

"Next Wednesday is my birthday!'" A small angry voice is heard, you laugh as your son did what you couldn't. He runs over as Sukuna picks up him.

"Apologises brat, then let it be his birthday AND a celebration-" Sukuna orders as your son continues to whine that it is his birthday.

In that moment, everything goes silent on your mind, as your gaze fixed on your husband and son, as you anxiously anticipated the oncoming years on your relationship with your husband.

The new painting embarking a new chapter in your rekindled love.

part 1

-

Authors note: OMLLLL thank you all so much for enjoying the first part guys oml- and im so sorry this took long to come out I was kinda busy w work and shii loool also like I was kinda stumped on how to continue this from the first chapter as I really didn't think further to continue it till ppl started asking for it. So, i am sorry if it seems a bit rushed. But I do hope this chapter does some sort of justice but unfortutnately I will only be leaving it at 2 parts and nothing more.

- R

[i-appear-misssing]

I love my small ass town I know it's full of assholes but it's the place that birthed and shaped me and in my most egomaniacal moments I like to think that my dyke ass existing and causing a bit of ruckus among them has changed some people's minds. And I want to keep coming back here on occasions like these to remember that it's not all bleak out here in the suburbs. Stuff like this reminds me how much I love people despite the constant ugliness and it makes me want to burst into tears of joy

[chlorinecake]

A SUCKER FOR THE TASTE ✦— 𝐋.𝐇𝐒

▹ PAIRING — experienced husband heeseung x virgin f. reader

▹ GENRE — smut, fluff, newlyweds au

▹ SYNOPSIS — As teens, you were the uncanny duo that fell in love at first sight. Some odd years later, and you’re now a newlywed couple, spending your first night together in a fit of nerves as you navigate sex and other new feelings…

▹ WARNINGS — KINKTOBER SPECIAL, basically just pussy drunk!husband!heeseung making you squirt for hours on the night of your honeymoon, marriage themes (duh), mentions of food, dom and sub dynamics, kissing with tongue, overstimulation kink (reader cums multiple times), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, petnames (baby, angel, pretty, sweetie), that’s all

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.3k — DAY 1

YOU AND HEESEUNG were like Romeo and Juliet; two people from totally different walks of life, and honestly, no one ever would’ve guessed you two’d end up falling for each other.

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell any time had passed between the first moment you met Heeseung with a hickey on his neck in the lunch hall to now as you sit before him on a king sized bed, ring fingers clad with beautiful bands to match as you stared into each others eyes, speaking a love song of unspoken words.

“You’re fine with waiting til marriage?” You remember asking him a few weeks after you first started dating as teens, “you won’t think I’m a prude for wanting to keep things traditional?…”

“Of course not, sweetie,” you remember him answering while cupping your face in his hands, “a girl like you is worth the wait—” He whispered in between kissing your lips, “—and so much more…”

Since that moment, you and Heeseung have stuck to your guns, not even so much as showering together to keep your purity intact until the right moment…

… That fateful day when you’d say “I do” and he the same, right before venturing off into the sunset on angel’s wings to explore another country together.

Another life, might I add, as a married couple on your extravagant honeymoon…

Everything was so magical in your head, too… but regardless of that, Heeseung was too big of a fucking dork to let himself be romantic for once.

Just an hour ago, he had told the hotel receptionist “you too” after she congratulated you both on getting married—

“Grrrrrrrrr,” he pouted, scrunching his nose at you.

“Did you just… growl at me!?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you keep resisting,” Heeseung threatened playfully, pointing an accusing finger at your frame now.

Sighing, you raised your hands beside your head as a sign of compliance, parting your lips slightly as you held your head back for him.

“Alright, don't move this time, alright? We can do this!” He ordered more passionately this time, cradling a single grape between his fingers before angling his wrist backwards and launching it towards your mouth.

“Oh my gosh, I finally caught it!” You shouted with excitement, words coming out a bit slurred as you bit down into the sweet fruit, “Tastes like victory,” you continued, making Heeseung grace you with his thundering ovation.

“Brava!” He began to cheer, but the rest of his sentence was interrupted by his own burp, which only elicited a fit of embarrassed giggles from the both of you…

Two empty glasses of wine sat on the hotel nightstand beside the bed you were currently sat on, and if it wasn't obvious enough, y'all were already starting to experience the giddy effects of the alcohol dancing in your systems.

“So,” you smiled, a laugh still present in your throat as you fed him a white grape from the bowl between you two, “we're the couple that eats pie in place of dinner now?”

“Sure... but not just any pie,” Heeseung corrected, leaning closer to your ear as he whispered, “blueeeberry pieeee.”

You're not sure if it was the wine or the honeymoon high, but you can't help yourself from laughing out loud at Heeseung's behavior in this moment—

“You’re a legend for always vibing with my horrible sense of humor, y’know that?” Your husband remarked while tilting his head at you endearingly.

“Your humor is definitely one-of-a-kind, but I wouldn't want you to change a thing about it,” you returned tenderly, right before feeding him a fork-full of blueberry pie from the dish between you two, feeling your heart swell as he smiled into the bite.

The kind of smile you’d have a hard time getting out of your mind later—

“Thanks, babe,” he said, a bit of dark blue jam resting in the corner of his mouth now as his eyes sparkled with what you could bet was pure flattery.

You always liked it whenever you managed to get Heeseung all flustered before you, considering how he was usually the one to make you a blushing mess with only his words.

“You've uh...” you stammer slightly, “you've got a little something on your lip there...”

“Really?”

“Yea, just... let me get it for you real quick,” you continue, licking the pad of your thumb before leaning forward to dab at the jam on his mouth.

That's when you noticed his lips curving into a subtle smirk as he whispered in a low voice, “You got it, baby?”

“Y-yea,” you stuttered again, feeling your face heat up at his words, and if you didn't look so hot to him right now, he would've pinched your cheeks—

“Whoops,” Heeseung gasped facetiously, pouting at the streak of blueberry jam he very intentionally just smeared on your lower lip, “must be the wine making me so clumsy today...”

Your eye almost twitched at the sight of him licking his finger clean, a rush of nerves swarming in your stomach now

“I-it's okay, Heeseung,” you said while lifting your thumb to your mouth, “I've got it...”

“No you don't,” he chuckled at your shy demeanor, right before closing the space between you two, taking your face in his hand and kissing you.

And yes, you saw this coming, but it took you a few seconds to fully close your eyes, letting them flutter shut as you both sighed at the taste of each other, almost as if the contact relaxed you…

The kiss was slow at first, with you and him simply breathing against each other’s mouths as his velvety lips moved against yours.

But that pace didn't last long once Heeseung broke from the kiss to move the bowl of grapes and pie out of the way, a few of the glossy green ovals hitting the ground with light thuds as his right hand found the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.

The kiss grew more intense from there as both your heads were tilting into each other, wet smacks filling the room now as his tongue prodded against yours with every passing second.

“God, you taste so sweet,” Heeseung groaned, desperately clinging to your waist which only made you moan in response.

You and Heeseung had made out countless times in the past, but you could tell something was different this time... you never felt this worked up with him before, and you knew it wasn’t just gonna end with a kiss—

“Can’t wait to taste other parts of you, too, baby…” he hummed, kissing along your neck while pinning your delicate wrists above your head.

And that’s when you felt it…

The twitch between your legs and the heat rushing throughout your entire body…

You were wearing a plaid pajama skirt and white top that matched Heeseung’s plaid sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, as you simply expected to only eat some dessert, discuss the rest of your honeymoon plans, and head straight to sleep right after.

Now though, you knew you wouldn't be able to get much rest with your emotions like this… at least not comfortably, that is…

You’re between his lap at first until he guides you onto your back, kissing down your neck, between your breasts, and down your stomach as he lifts your top, stopping at the waist band of your skirt given the way your body tensed up suddenly.

“Is everything alright?” He asked softly, glancing back up at you with a swollen look to his pouty lips, given all the kissing they had just done.

You knew what was happening right now..

Heeseung was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and as much as your body craved it, your mind kept fighting it for some reason…

FLASHBACK —

“Just… don’t make it too… formal, okay?”

“Formal?” Heeseung repeated with a slight chuckle as you sat beside each other on the plane that morning.

“Well, yea… I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it—”

“But it is a big deal, baby,” he cut you off by placing his hand over yours. “We’ve been waiting a long time for this, y’know?… Not just to have sex but—” he leaned closer to you as he whispered this in your ear, “—to make each other feel good… in all kinds of ways…”

His breath tickled your ear in that moment… similarly to how his lips were tickling you now as you laid before him on the mattress, his head hovering over the space between your thighs.

“We don’t have to go any further until you’re ready, love—”

“I’m ready, Heeseung,” you said while nodding, but he waited to continue, knowing in his heart that there was still something you needed to get off your chest.

He backed away, pulling your shirt back over your stomach and sitting on the bed normally now.

“Heeseung,” you said again, drawing his sparkly doe eyes back to you.

“I’m listening, love,” is all he replied with, offering you a warm smile, “what’s on your mind?”

What’s in the way? You internally asked yourself right after, knowing deep down that you had no reason to feel so nervous with him right now…

Heeseung had never alienated you because of your inexperience with sex before, and was always very understanding of your moral and sexual boundaries.

But now, things were different; you were a married couple, and one of the many perks of that was being able to explore each others body in a comfortable way…

Turns out though, it was all just your own insecurities clouding your judgment, and you hated that you couldn’t shake the nerves bubbling in your stomach…

“It’s just that,” you started nervously, fidgeting with your manicured nails, “I… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Yeah, I know,” your husband nodded sarcastically, trying his best to resist the urge to kiss you again—

“And…well, you have a lot more experience than me with this kind of thing,” you continued, lowering your head.

“So what?”

“What if I don’t meet your expectations?…”

“Expectations? What do you mean, ____?”

“Well, you’ve been with a lot of other girls and what if I’m not as good as them? What if you don’t like sex with me?…”

Heeseung’s heart would’ve otherwise dropped at your words, but instead, he smiled softly, taking your chin in his hand and lifting your head towards him. “You’re nothing like those girls I was with in the past, ____, and that’s my favorite part about you,”

You looked into his eyes as he continued, “I’ll be happy with whatever happens tonight. You wanna know why? Because I did it with you, and I love you with my everything, princess…”

“I love you too, Heeseung,” you replied meekly, flashing him a soft smile as he kissed your cheek.

“No expectations tonight, then… okay, baby? I just wanna please you,” he whispered, slowly guiding your body back down against the mattress with a secure hand. “I wanna make you feel so good,” he continued, placing another kiss to the center of your lips. 

Heeseung started by letting his plush lips wander all over your body again, lifting your shirt up once more to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your stomach.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured with warm breath against your skin, caressing your inner thighs with his hands until you naturally craned them open, inviting him to your pulsing core.

Your breath hitched once you felt his nose burry between your clothed folds, but your little sounds only excited him even further, and he wasted no time in removing your panties completely now.

“Heeseung,” you whined, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he spat on your cunt, toying with the moisture there using his middle and index finger.

“Just relax for me, angel,” your husband cooed with a soothing tone, and you're not sure if it was the alcohol or the petname he just called you in his bedroom voice, but your head was starting to feel very dizzy.

And if you weren't so horny, you would've felt bashful in front of him like this... half-naked, and trembling when he's hardly even touched you yet.

The coldness of his wedding band against the warm flesh of your thigh sent shivers down your spine, and he wasted no time in inviting his fingers into your sopping hole, one at a time until your walls practically sucked him in.

He then started to leave kitten licks against your sensitive bud, complimenting the pace by pumping his wrist towards your pelvis with his digits still exploring the gummy walls of your cunt.

Admittedly, you had tried fingering yourself in the past, but it never felt as good as the way Heeseung worked wonders inside you right now, but you still needed something...

Something to hold onto… something to grab, and Heeseung could immediately tell once your nails started weakly nipping at the bed sheets, your pussy throbbing more and more—

“Hee,” you moaned, feeling his fingers curl deeper and deeper inside your tight cunt, “need to touch you so bad...”

“Yea? Wanna hold my hand, pretty?”

All you can manage to do is nod desperately, making him chuckle slightly at your neediness.

“If you hold my hands, I need you to promise to keep your legs open for me on your own... can you do that for me, love?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, and with that, Heeseung got to work on licking your slick from his fingers before finding your hands in his.

But your core was already missing the stimulation, making your hips rise up and down as if thin air would provide enough friction to ease your craving.

And that's when he licked his first stripe up the center of your pussy, and you're sure your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sensation.

It didn't take long for the pleasure to escalate from there, either.

His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked you in like a starved out man. His tongue was applying pressure in all the best ways before sinking into your hole, filling you up just enough to have you arching your back on the bed.

You felt your first orgasm wash over you, but you knew your husband had no intention of stopping so soon.

You were mewling beneath him at the overstimulation, thankful that he at least slowed down the pace of his tongue, even though he was still very earnestly slurping at your juices…

“Could eat this pussy for hours, princess… you’re just too delicious…” he groaned, and you felt the bed shaking from the way he was rutting his crotch against the mattress, furrowing his eyebrows as his kept eating you out.

“Come on baby, let me hear you,” Heeseung practically begged, his tone sounding so hoarse, so drunk as the vibrations from his voice only tantalized you even further, “tell me how good it feels...”

“F-feels s-so fucking good, baby,” you moaned, words coming out in fragments given how cloudy your brain was becoming, and you're pretty sure you had your second or third orgasm shortly after as your hands squeezed his, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

His tongue was licking between your folds so well, the textured muscle making your skin tingle all over but in the best way imaginable.

Heeseung didn't plan on any of this to happening, which is why it felt so good in the first place. It was natural, raw, and so so messy…

Your own cum was dripping all over his chin and lips, and he was loving every single second of it.

He was obsessed with it. The way your clit throbbed against his lips, the way you squirted your juices all over his face, the way your thighs squirmed while struggling to stay open, and your angelically desperate cries of pleasure as he drew out orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

He wished he could watch your face contort with need as he fucked you with his face and tongue, but he couldn't look back up at you no matter how hard he tried… He had to keep his face buried between you…

Your strength eventually gave out and your grip released his hands that soon found one of your tits, gripping the mound of flesh in a way that only drew you even further over the edge.

Your hips had even developed a mind of their own, humping against his face like a bunny in heat as he whispered filthy nothings against your cunt, as well as sweet somethings that you'd hear for the next hour or two that Heesueng spent with his pointy nose brushing against your clit.

“You're so fucking wet for me, angel...”

“Love it when you come all over my face.”

“Pull my hair, baby... harder than that...”

“So so beautiful, and just for me.”

“Keep those pretty thighs open just like that, baby…”

“You taste so fucking divine...”

“Please don't tell me to stop... just one more, baby... I know you've got it in you...”

He found just as much enjoyment being between your thighs as you did in having him there, making you cream on his tongue again and again until you finally hiccuped the words, “N-no more, Hee... p-please, I can't t-take anymore...”

But your begging only made Heeseung even greedier, letting his fingers find your clit where he applied enough pressure and stimulation to break that last orgasm out of you, leaving you a shaking mess as he kissed you down, harder than a bullet in his own pants from getting to see you like this so many times and for so long in just one evening.

A series of shaky whimpers filled the room now as your husband crawled back over you, kissing you with his swollen lips while caressing the side of your fucked-out face. “You did so good for me, baby... especially on your first night...”

“Th-thank you,” you said with a weak chuckle, still feeling your orgasms fresh in your hips and thighs as he kept soothing you with his touch, your breath shaky in your chest after hours of coming undone with him…

That's when he moved over to lay beside you, and your eyes almost immediately caught sight of the thick bulge resting behind his pants, and you couldn't help but feel a little bad now given how he didn’t get much action the whole time.

“Do you want me to...” you started timidly, moving your hand to touch him up til he stopped you.

“Not tonight... we can have fun with that tomorrow,” Heeseung smiled, making you giggle again as he changed his position to make the bulge less noticeable, “for now though, let's focus on getting you cleaned up... sound good?”

“Better than good,” you replied tenderly, kissing him on the cheek before he got up from the bed and headed toward the hotel bathroom where he planned to run you a nice warm bath.

“Wait!” Your husband called out suddenly, just as he caught you trying to get out of the bed on your own.

Running over, a confused look remained on your face as he picked you up from the mattress bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom.

“I didn't forget how to walk, Heeseung,” you giggled, keeping your hands secure at his shoulder as he cradled you into the tub.

“I know,” he laughed, helping you get your top off and over your head as the water ran in the background, “I just didn't want my precious wife accidentally stepping on any of those grapes I dropped earlier...”

It went without saying that Heeseung had always been a loser, but he was your loser, and that fact alone was the bandaid that covered up every preconceived notion of him you ever created in the back of your mind…

You didn’t see him the way other people saw him… as the former man whore, troublemaker, or hopeless goof from high school, ‘destined’ to never change…

You saw him as the adorable nerd who accepted you for the things you saw as flaws… as the guy who still wore character themed PJ’s every once in a while that you now get to call “Hubby,” “lovey,” and “mine…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who read this little fic of mine, which actually concludes DAY 1 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings

[pyrrhiccomedy]

This is my cat.

His name is Eddie Potato.

Eddie Potato came home with us from the animal shelter in January (so about 9 months ago, now). He was around five years old, and had been living on the street before he was picked up by the cops and brought to the state run shelter (my boy was arrested for loitering). When we met him, he was sick, mite-infested, and covered in matted fur, scratches, and bites: but he was also very sweet, and very friendly, and he was already fixed, so we knew he must have once had a home with some loving humans.

[Eddie at his first vet appointment, trying to hide behind a paper towel.]

We'll never know what Eddie's first family was like, of course: but within a couple of weeks of adopting him, we were able to make a few guesses. He was happy to be pet, and calm about being picked up: but the only way he had to let us know that he'd like us to stop petting him was to swat our hands away, claws out. He'd then watch us, very closely, a little tense; like he was either expecting to be scolded for scratching, or expecting us to try to touch him again.

This told us that he had an affectionate family, but maybe not one that respected his boundaries. Maybe it was a family with kids, or maybe just a loving but pushy owner.

He's a medium-to-long haired cat, so he needs a bit of grooming to stay hygienic around his, let's say, pants area. I bought some quality clippers and a pet grooming electric razor. The clippers he was completely calm about: he let me trim the mats out of his fur very calmly, even the ones behind his ears.

The razor terrified him. I mean, he knew what it was on sight. He was sitting next to me on the couch when I took it out of the box, and the moment he saw it, his ears went back; he crouched low and fearful; and then jumped down and ran out of the room.

Okay; so his first family groomed him, or took him to a groomer, that was obvious: and it was probably a 'hold him down and get it over with' kind of experience, given how frightened he was.

He was very sweet, and very gentle - except when he wanted you to stop petting him. This was a cat who expected kindness, who believed that the humans around him were his friends: but he'd learned that his friends wouldn't listen to him when he told them to stop unless he drew a little bit of blood.

We just thought: wow, this cat is a really good communicator. He is being, like, so clear.

Eddie Potato is a very stupid boy - uncommonly stupid, even for a cat - so we prepared ourselves for it to take a while for him to learn that things had changed. We paid very close attention to him while we were petting him for the signs leading up to that swat, and we got better and better at stopping before the swat ever came.

I let him get used to the razor very slowly: for the first week, I just set it next to his food bowl at dinner time, about a foot away, so he could see it while he was at his happiest. For the next week, I'd pick up the razor, and move it around while he ate. The week after that, I turned it on for a few seconds, so he could start to get used to the noise. The week after that, it went on for most of his meal time, and I moved it around his body while I pet him: so he could start to associate the razor sound with nice touching.

Then I groomed him. And he was - fine. A little bit antsy, but fine. Happily munching away at his dinner while I neatened up his pantaloons. I usually only had about a minute before he made it clear that he wanted it to stop, but that was okay: I just groomed him for a minute or so for two or three days in a row, until the job was done.

After four months, Eddie Potato wasn't scared of the razor at all anymore.

And it broke my heart a little bit, because his first family had clearly loved him. And Eddie is a cat who needs to be groomed! And it had obviously always been a scary and stressful experience for him. But it didn't have to be! He just needed patience! Surely, if the people he had lived with before had known that he could learn to not be afraid in just a few months, they would have tried.

Teaching him that he didn't need to swat didn't take much longer. It was so clear that this was not a cat who wanted to hurt us. Once we got the hang of stopping before he got tired or stressed out by petting, the swatting went away completely.

What was so sweet was what he learned to do instead: when he was done with being pet, he started placing his big paws on my hand, and gently but firmly pushing it away.

"Oh, okay!" I'd say. "We're done!" and take my hand away. And he'd watch me, for two or three seconds: and then he'd start to purr like crazy, and push under my hand again.

He wanted to be pet. He just wanted to know that he could make it stop if he wanted to!

It's been months now since the last time Eddie swiped at either of us. Sometimes, he likes to play his little push-away game for ten or twenty minutes at a time! He rolls onto his back for a belly rub, and I do for a few minutes; then he pushes my hand away, and watches to make sure I listened; then he rolls onto his back again for more belly rubs. The whole time purring, purring, purring. Eddie loves his belly rubs, and he loves being listened to just as much.

I'm just so proud of him! He's had such a hard and scary year: losing his family, living on the street, ending up in a kill shelter, going to a strange new home with strange new people. And he still extended his friendship and trust to us, and let us show him that he doesn't need to be scared anymore, of razors or hands or thunderstorms or the sound of traffic. He's so dumb and so small and he's had so much happen to him, and now he gets exactly as much petting as he likes, and he isn't afraid to get his pantaloons trimmed.

Like. That's my little guy. I get to make sure he'll be okay from now on.

[hemmingsleclerc]

It's Over┃max verstappen

summary: where they bellieve max cheated on kelly with a famous singer his age but instead of the fans reacting badly,they celebrate?

maxverstappen x fem!singer!reader

  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧ ༘✰ ༘ ˚ ˚ ༘ ‧₊˚𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧

Max has always been in the public eye, both on and off the track. His relationship with Kelly Piquet, the Brazilian ''model'', had been the talk of the paddock for years. Their 9 year age difference has been the topic of conversation and criticism everywhere, but it didn't seem to bother Max… at least not until now.

It all started at an exclusive party after the Monaco GP. The drivers mixed with celebrities of all kinds: singers, actors, models, athletes, etc. Among the crowd was Y/N, a world-wide known singer, nine-time Grammy winner, selling out full stadiums and breaking record after record. Lewis had met her a few years earlier at the Met Gala and they had become close friends so it wasn't surprising to see him listening to her music before a race.

Max was also a fan of Y/N's music and their paths had vaguely crossed at some events. But that night was a little different. They were seen together several times, sharing laughs and whispers that seemed too intimate for only being friends. The paparazzi, always being everywhere, managed to take several photos that would make the Internet go crazy for the next days.

In one particular photo, Max and Y/N were seen standing close to each other, with their faces inches apart, lost in conversation. Another photo captured the moment in which Max caressed Y/N's cheeck with a smile. The final image, which would become the most commented image on twitter the next day, showed Max with his arm casually around Y/N's shoulders as they left the party together and then got into his car holding hands.

The next morning, social media was blowing up. #MaxAndY/N was trending worldwide on twitter. Fans of both Max and Y/N couldn't contain their confusion and excitement. The most popular question was: Had Max finally left Kelly? Was Y/N the new woman in his life? Or was she the other woman?

f1_gossip

Liked by 1,593,694 others

f1_gossip WHAT THE HELL?! This morning a celebrity gossip account published these photos of Max and singer and songwriter Y/N where they are seen very close together! Did we miss something? Since when did Max leave Kelly??

username It's about time Max found someone his own age!

username I never thought that my two worlds collided

username did he cheat???

username HE DID IT!

username Y/N WHAT?!?!?!? 😭😭

Meanwhile, Kelly had been noticeably absent from the party as she was in LA on one of her many trips, which only fueled the breakup rumors; her silence on the matter was interpreted as confirmation. Fans speculated that Max had grown tired of her constant traveling and her indifference to his, and also the factor of their age difference. They believed he had found solace in Y/N, who shared her young energy and passion for her life and career.

Y/N's fans, known for their loyalty, received Max in a good way. They filled their comments on social media with messages of support and excitement.

Days turned into weeks and neither Max nor Y/N addressed the rumors directly. Instead, they continued to be seen together at various events: dinners, concerts and even a charity gala where they were photographed holding hands.

f1_gossip

Liked by 837,583 others

f1_gossip we got new photos of max and yn at the party after the monaco gp! What do you think about this? An anonymous person close to Kelly apparently said the couple had broken up months ago! but they haven't confirmed it

username kelly deserves better!!!

username I really feel that we cannot nor should we give an opinion on the matter, we do not know what happened between Max and Kelly......

username they look so hot

max_updates

Liked by ynlnupdates, f1_gossip and 947,583 others

max_updates STOP THEY'RE LITERALLY SO CUTE! Max and Y/N a few weeks ago outside a restaurant with friends!

username Is nobody address the fact he cheated and she broke a relationship?

username pls max and kelly had been already over for months really, she was only with him for fame

username they look sooo damn good

username 🥹🥹

ynlnupdates

Liked by max_updates, and 986,743 others

ynlnupdates max and y/n tonight!

username he looks so happy 😭🫶🏻

username they are so good together 😍

username PARENTS!

username fucking weird

f1_gossip

liked by 937,492 others

f1_gossip Kelly posted this story a few minutes ago finally speaking about her and max!

username lol ''remain good friend'' girl, he unfollowed u a month ago

username she's really trying to make it seem like Max is still talking to her😭😭

username god heard my prayers 🙏🏻

username max literally just said they hat they had already broken up months ago, grow up

username exactly! he didn't cheated at all!

Finally, in an interview after a race, Max broke the silence.

f1_gossip

instagram

max_updates

liked by 1,492,495 others

max_updates In case you didn't already know, this is a yn ln,singer, songwriter and director, max's new gf, we really can't blame Max for falling for this beautiful and talented woman y'all.

username mommy?

username oh my god she's beautiful

username Oh-

username new wag alert!!!!

username I can't wait to see her on tha paddock

ynlnupdates

liked by 1,583,964 others

ynlnupdates meet max verstappen, 3 times f1 world champion, redbull driver and boyfriend of our yn 🫶🏻

username OH HE'S HOT

username I can't wait to see him on a concert of her's

username❤️😭 I LITERALLY LOVE HIM AND NOW HE'S DATING YN!?!??!

ok I hope this is not messy, I literally finish writing this at 3 am yesterday😭

[buckets-and-trees]

Whining to Bucky that you're horny, but also that it's too hot and you're too sticky for sex 😫

Title: Too Hot Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 700 Summary: Standalone part of the Desperate to Devoted story. Summer in the city. Heatwave. Too hot. Boyfriend doesn't care.

Content/Warnings: established relationship, vaginal fingering, excessive heat wave, vibranium arm special features

Author Notes: IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO READ ANY OF THE REST OF THIS SERIES. True stand-alone but does take place after Big Conversation, so they're at the point of an established, committed relationship. Week six of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - the prompt was "I won't be able to stop myself." Also filling my April box for Build-a-Bucky Bingo with the "gradually moving in together" prompt.

Flat on your back on your bed, you heard the buzz of your phone on the mattress next to you, but you didn’t want to move.

You’d finally edged out of being miserably hot after laying under the ceiling fan and enough of the day’s heat wave levels of heat only just beginning to dissipate outside.

Checking the text would require moving, and your limbs still felt like too much of a burden.

Bzz.

You weren’t sure if it was another text or the reminder that you had an unopened message, so you didn’t open your eyes.

Bzz.

Bzz.

You smiled and finally reached for the phone. Only one person would be sending you multiple texts.

Bucky.

Lifting the phone and opening your eyes, you saw you were right and unlocked the screen to read the messages.

BUCKY: Just landed, will head your way as soon as we debrief.

BUCKY: I know it’s only been two days, but I missed you like crazy!

BUCKY: Should I pick up something for dinner?

BUCKY: Can’t wait to hear your laugh and feel your lips against mine you have me crazy for you…

Your smile turned into a grin, and you rolled over onto your stomach and began typing your reply.

YOU: No food, only ice cream. Too hot.

YOU: Missed you, too, but no touching. Too hot!

You sent the red, hot-faced emoji for good measure.

His reply came through a few moments later.

BUCKY: No can do, I’m dying to sink my cock into your cunt.

Your stomach instantly flipped reading those words.

“Fuck you, Bucky Barnes.”

YOU: Hot is winning over horny.

At least for now. Though your core was feeling enticed, the rest of your body rebelled against the thought of the heat of another body anywhere close to you.

BUCKY: We’ll see about that… I won’t be able to stop myself.

Your stomach flipped again.

Six months ago, Bucky was the man you begrudgingly worked with when assigned to missions for his team, and now he was your insatiable boyfriend.

YOU: When you get here you might change your mind…

An hour later, you heard Bucky’s key turning in the lock of the front door. He hasn’t moved into your place, but he’s over often enough now that you gave him a key.

“Damn,” he said, voice raised enough for you to hear him in the other room, though your place isn’t terribly large. “I had no idea it was this hot!”

“Air conditioning is out,” you replied. You heard him setting a couple of bags on the counter – likely food he picked up. “They have someone coming tomorrow to look at it.”

“You should’ve gone to my place,” he said, “even when I’m not there, you’re always wel-,” he paused when he stepped into the bedroom doorway, “-come.”

He groaned.

“Do not even touch me,” you warned in all seriousness.

“This is not fair,” he replied. “You expect me to leave you alone when I haven’t seen my girl in two days, and you’re laid out in only your underwear on the bed?”

“I do not want any skin on my skin, Barnes.”

It was a testament to how hot you were that your brain had not even come close to thinking of the key Bucky had also given to you to his place.

You didn’t open your eyes, too exhausted from the heat, but you could feel his gaze roaming over your form.

“You’re making this hard in more ways than one,” he grumbled.

“I’m resigned to my melted fate.”

The mattress dipped with Bucky’s weight, and you groaned. “No.”

But then you gasped and your eyes flew open when very cold vibranium fingers skimmed up your inner thigh.

“No?” he chuckled.

“I didn’t know you could…?” you trail off, distracted when his fingers slip beneath the gusset of your panties and begin to tease your wet folds.

“It’s not a feature I usually need.”

You gripped the cool metal of his arm, holding him firm against your pussy.

“I want one orgasm from my girl, and then we’re staying the night at my place. It’s too hot here for anything, and definitely too hot for everything I want to do with you tonight.”

You whimpered and let your legs fall open when two of his fingers entered your aching hole. “Deal, absolute fucking deal,” you agreed.

....I'm sure that was not the intention when Suri programmed his limb to be able to drastically change temperature, but certainly coming in handy at this moment. 😏

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[angelicblondie]

footballplayer!rafe x wag!reader (MDNI)

note: i dont know a lot about football so some details about that might be wrong!!

it was safe to say that your life had drastically changed over the last year.

before you met rafe, you were simply a girl working a marketing 9 to 5, with a fairly boring life. you had dinner with you parents once a month, went to work every day, you had nights out with you friends on the weekends- your life was just like any other girl approaching her mid 20s.

however, over a year ago, you were at a bar on a saturday night with a couple of your girlfriends, just trying to let loose from the week. you were only a couple shots in when you spotted the handsome stranger eyeing you from afar, and you were immediately filled with intrigue. rafe felt himself being magnetically pulled to your direction, sauntering over to where you stood with your friends by the bar.

he approached you with his sickly charming smile, wooing you instantly. the two of you got to talking and if you were honest, you were smitten instantly. about 5 minutes into the conversation you realized who you were talking to - rafe cameron, the new startup qb for your cities team. you weren't a huge football fan, but you'd have to be living under a rock not to know who rafe freaking cameron was. he had become a huge deal in the past months, reasons ranging from his killer wrist to his deadly looks.

you had seen girls thirsting over him on social media and you couldnt help but agree - the guy was smoking hot, even more so in person, making you honestly a little surprised he was even talking to you.

you look a sip of your drink, eyeing him thoughtfully. "so, whats a hot shot like you doing in this dump?" you ask, your voice teasing yet soft.

rafe let out a chuckle. "I could ask you the same question. dont you gotta boyfriend at home or somethin'?" he asked experimentally, awaiting you answer with the tilt of his head.

you bit your lip, catching his drift. "no boyfriend," you reply, twirling the straw in your drink. "how 'bout you? no groupie chasing after you?"

rafe poked his tongue into his cheek with a smile, shaking his head. "nah, on my own at the moment."

you hum, nodding along to his words before wrapping your lips around your straw, locking into his eyes as you sucked the liquid out of your glass.

thats how you ended up on his bed later that night, letting him pound into you as you screamed into his pillow - truly the best sex you had ever had at that point.

whilst your sexual chemistry was undeniable, so was your romantic chemistry. the two of you flowed into conversation easily, and could feel the early excitement of your new situation.

you spent the whole week at rafes house - only leaving his side for work, and him for training. the two of you showered in the morning, made or ordered in meals for dinner, and talked late into the night, about anything and everything (and of course, had sex. lots and lots of it). you got to know rafe, from his early childhood, to embarrassing high school stories, crazy college encounters, and all about his love for football. and rafe got to know you too, since you found yourself uncontrollably sharing things you had never uttered to another soul, wondering why it was you felt so connected to him - why you trusted and liked him so much already.

at the end of the week though, it was time for you and rafe to part ways, since the football season had started, causing rafe to need to travel.

you were inexplicably crushed, wondering if your time together had run its course, and if it was time to say bye forever - only remembering each other by the perfect week, and nothing more.

luckilly though, that wasnt the case - you and rafe just couldn't stay away from each other. he called you every night, as long as he could. you watched his games on the tv in your living room, texting him after each time to congratulate or console him, depending on the outcome. you even brushed up on your football knowledge, wanting to be more useful in conversations about the topic and to understand what was going on in the games.

your friends were of course happy for you, but also perplexed. you had just met the guy, and you two were already acting like a married couple. but once you formally introduced him to them, they understood.

the two of you just simply had a special connection, and admired each other so much. it was like you skipped all the awkward first dates and base line questions, and just jumped right into the good stuff - and it was (and still is) perfect.

that how you got here - a year after the two of you made it official only 2 month into knowing each other - in a stadium in sunny california.

your boyfriend was playing against the LA team, and you were seated in a box with the other friends and family of the players, sitting next to rafes dad and step-mom, as well as his sister sarah.

you and sarah had wine glasses in your hands as you sat in the first row, sunglasses covering you eyes as you waited for the game to start. you saw the occasional phone camera pointed your way, and you gave a small smile a wave.

you had definitely received more attention since you and rafe began your relationship - people had flooded you social media accounts with both love and hate, and had began to treat you as if you were some celebrity, which was strange, since you were just some girlfriend of a football player.

a very popular football player, but still.

with you new platform, you were able to post the cutest pics of rafe and you, (and some very hot pics of him alone), and also make a bit of money from it. you still worked in marketing, but had decided to mostly work online and remotely, making it easier to travel with rafe when needed.

a big topic of conversation between the two of you when you started dating was how you would approach that part of your relationhip - balancing your individual lives to meet in the middle.

you had made it clear that you wanted to be your own person, aside from being his girlfriend. although rafe could certainly provide for the two of you, for now, you quite liked relying on yourself for your pay, and you liked the independence that came with it. of course, rafe was supportive of this decision, but made it clear that this wouldn't stop him from spoiling you with any presents and treats that he could think of - only the very best treatment for his girl.

that being said, you still wanted to see him as much as possible, and since your job offered flexibility, you decided to take the opportunity to be able to move with him when needed and continue to work for yourself.

the game was an important one - it was the game that decided whether or not the boys would make it to the superbowl.

rafe had been jittery the whole day before, pacing around in your hotel room and cracking every bone in his body. you had tried to get him to relax, but his mind was running wild.

he kept trying to find something to do. for example, he spent a whole 3 hours in the hotel gym, working out to prepare himself. you gently scolded him once he returned though, worrying it would only make him sore.

you then ran him a bath, hopping in as well so you could try to ease his nerves.

you made the environment as relaxing as possible, lighting some candles and incense, filling the bath with bubbles and lavender essential oils, soft jazz playing in the background.

you sat behind rafe, softly massaging his back to relieve the obvious tension. you whispered reassurances in his ear, wanting him to go into the game with confidence in his abilities, and a clear head.

"the only way your going to win tomorrow is if your thinking of what your doing in the moment, not the past, and certainly not the future. you have to be present and open minded, not driven by emotions or fear," you had reminded him softly, turning him around so he could look into your eyes.

rafe nodded, a serious yet tired look on his face. he worked so hard, and he was so good at what he did. you wanted this so badly for him, but knew that the only way he would play his best tommorw was if he got out of his head.

"i know, baby. you know how i get like," rafe murmured, bringing you onto his lap and tucking his face into your neck, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his wet hair.

"if its any consolation, I'll be proud of you no matter what. you've worked so so hard this season, and everyone sees it. I truly cant think of someone more deserving of this than you, babe," you reassure, trying to make you voice as soothing as possible.

you meant your words of course, but you really did want him to win. you knew how competitive he could be, and like him, so were you.

so once the game started, you removed the sunglasses off your head and into you purse, sitting down and taking a long sip of wine.

it was a long game, rafe team managing to get the first touchdown, causing your section to jump up into the air and celebrate. the screen had shifted to your boxes reaction, zooming in on you and sarah hugging and jumping up and down in excitement, cheering louder than anyone else there.

rafe had looked up, trying not to get too excited and keep his head in the game, but seeing you jump around so happily for him caused him to break out into a large smile, blowing a large kiss your way before running to his groups huddle.

the game got a bit rough after that, the other team getting 2 touchdowns causing you to wince each time, taking long sips of you drink. any time rafe looked in your direction you sent him a proud smile regardless, wanting to keep his spirts and hopes high.

by the 4th quarter, the other team had 4 points on you guys, meaning all you needed to win was just one touchdown.

with about 5 minutes left, the two teams on the field hadn't managed to score any points, and you were starting to worry. rafe, as quarterback, was talking to the coach of his team with a serious expression nodding along to his words before running over to his team. using his hands a bit, he explained the play, looking at each of their faces to make sure they understood the plan.

once it started, you and sarah were squeezing eachother hands tightly, muttering words of encouragement as your eyes glued to the field. you could hear the voice of ward narrating to rose, explaining what he thought the play would be and what would be the smartest option. you wanted to role your eyes at his condescending tone, but decided against it, focussing your attention on the game.

you watched in focus as rafe threw the ball back to one of his teammates, and they passed the ball to another. you lost sight of the ball whilst keeping your eyes on rafe (a constant tendency), and before you knew it, you turned your head to see one of his teammates run across the end zone and hold the ball up high, celebrating his victory.

you all immediately jumped up, cheering in celebration. you face broke out into the biggest grin as you watched rafe and all of his team mates pile on top of each other on the field.

the game still had about 4 minutes left, but it didnt matter, because luckily, the other team didnt manage another touchdown, meaning rafe and his team were going into the super bowl.

you and rafes family met him out back of the stadium, instantly hugging and congratulating him. you of course held on extra long, kissing his face all over casting a red hue on his cheeks.

before going out to dinner all together, you and rafe went to congratulate other members of his team and some of his friends, talking for a bit about the events of the game.

during dinner you sat close to rafe, his hand on your thigh as you leaned on his shoulder, enjoying the high of his victory and chatting casually with his family. eventually you two parted from the other, walking the short distance back to your hotel and luckily not getting recognized.

the minute you stepped into the room you were on rafe, holding his face as you pushed your lips onto his, as he grabbed your hips in mild shock. once it wore off, he took control of the kiss, walking backwards to the bed. once his knees met the corner and he fell back, you straddle his waist, waisting no time to lift the shirt of his body, revealing his toned figure underneath.

soon the two of you were a mix of sweaty bodies under the sheets, writhing in pleasure and letting out muffled noises. rafe had you underneath him, arching your back off the sheets and letting out little whimpers, too embarrassed to be loud, fearing the thin walls of the hotel.

"let it out, baby, I want to hear you," rafe coaxed.

you whine, grabbing his tone biceps. "cant, rafe. people'll hear"

rafe laughed a bit sadistically, squeezing your waist and pounding into you hard. "don't care. want everyone t'hear how good m'making y'feel. c'mon, you can let it out, I know y'can."

you moaned a little louder this time, cursing loudly whilst you screamed. "fuck, please, rafe, m'so close."

rafe placed one of his hands on your lower stomach and watched as he pressed down, earning a high pitched gasp and moan from you, throwing your head back against the pillows.

rafe tilted his head up to look at you and his lips tilted upwards. "yeah? can y'feel me? right here in your tummy?"

you nod wordlessly, your body squirming in pure pleasure. "please, rafe, I need t'come."

rafe continued his pace, groaning gutturally as he approached his own high. "fuck, go ahead baby."

your walls clenched around his dick, and rafe watched, tranfixed as the white ringlet appeared near the base of his cock, becoming more and more definded every time he slowly moved in and out of you. the view made his reach his own organsm, cumming into the condowm as he threw his head back, his stomach clenching as he released.

the two of you spent the rest of the night cuddled in bed, watching a movie and snacking on the room service you had delivered. and you truly couldn't ask for a better way to celebrate your boyfriends accomplishment.

[chlmtsdoll]

LIKE A TRUE STAR

౨ৎ Summary: you just won your first challenger. Usually gift giving and showering you in their riches, Art & Tashi have a few more surprises for their special girl 🤍

౨ৎ Word count: 7k

౨ৎ Warnings: smut ! p in v (unprotected) sex, no use of y/n, oral (f) reviving, virgin/inexperienced reader, sugar baby!reader, age gap (reader in early 20’s), Art and Tashi dilf/milf age, innocence//corruption & size kinks, porn ? with a plot, voyeurism, brief spiritual/religious themes, Art and Tashi treat reader like their muse, Patrick is kind of (is) a dick

౨ৎ part one | three | four

Your racket hit the ground as you excitedly skipped off the tennis court, smile blaring and sweaty hair sticking to your face as you ran into Arts arms when he met you by the bleachers.

“You were amazing, baby !” he chucked, spinning you around as he held you tight in his arms, and you were too full of sensation to think anything about anything.

You’d just won your first challenger.

“I did it. I won, I won !” You expressed cheerfully as Art placed you to your feet, embracing you with a proud cheeky smile. You were a sweaty mess — tired and overwhelmed with the last few weeks of non stop training you’d been doing and your sleep schedule being all work and hardly any play (besides shopping) you could now finally rest for a moment. You’re one step even further to nationals this year.

You wanted to jump up and down, squeal even, but Arts soft hold of your hands kept you grounded and fully present. It was until Tashi had came alive in and her eyes had a rare spark in them you hadn’t seen since she first saw you play months ago.

Here it is. What did she think of your game ? Could she have been unimpressed even though you just whipped your opponents ass ? There was really never any telling with Tashi, till she spoke her mind.

You barely had time to wonder or build nerves to contemplate when Tashi had wrapped her touch gently around your face and she cupped your chin to look into your eyes dearly.

“You kicked ass out there. That’s my girl, well done.” Tashi spoke fondly and the corner of her perfect lips turned up into a smile. Your chest had loosened immediately and you couldn’t help but smile more. Her thumbs caressing your cheeks lightly as she leaned in and left a kiss there. Your eyes had closed for a moment and you didn’t want to be any place that wasn’t here with the two people you admired most, and to their enjoyment, their comfort and praise meant the whole world to you.

“I’m a finalist now. Officially.” You gripped the bottom of your skirt with a giggle. “I’m going to nationals.”

Art had smiled down at you, thinking your state was purely adorable really, “and you did it all on your own. You worked so hard, you never let up and that’s what’s important.”

“To have a clear mind.” Tashi nodded and adjusted her purse on her shoulder, a light but reassuring smile making it’s way back to her face as she peered at you. “Okay. We’ve got to freshen you up for the tournament dinner tonight and.. we have a small surprise for you.”

Your eyes lit up again almost immediately shifting between the couple with anticipation, a soft chuckle of shyness escaped your lips “it’s not another protein smoothie is it ?”

“No. It’s definitely, definitely not.” Art laughs and he shoots Tashi a look and she snickers lightly before leading you through the locker rooms.

You got all of your tennis equipment gathered while Art and Tashi had spoken to other sponsors and tried their very hardest to not run into any press. When you’d all gotten back to the hotel you’d been staying in for the time being upstate, a bath was already taken care for you by the maids. Steamy and sitting perfectly waiting for your arrival, ready with bubbles and the smell of rose water lingering through the air. There was even a warmer for your robe that you had gotten quite used to.

All your body lotions, creams and skin care were from luxury brands Tashi had unlimited access to and she would have the maids restock them for you whenever you needed. It really hadn’t even sunken in yet that you got the kind of treatment that only Tashi Duncan had gotten and well, by Tashi Duncan herself. It was like you were living in a dream.

Once you were done bathing and fresh faced, you’d entered your room to find a team of people waiting for you with makeup and hair products laid out neatly on tables. They’d gotten you all pretty and sitting with perfectly glossed pink lips in no time. Pinned curls flowed down your back. You looked ethereal. One of the makeup artists was finishing off your face when Tashi had trotted in with a garment bag hanging over her arm. You watched her place it on the bed and walk over to you, examining your face.

“Perfect.” She had told the makeup artist before dismissing the team and she gave you a likely smile, “surprise is ready.”

You noticed her eyes follow to the bed and you stood to meet her, trying not to bounce over too excitedly and ruin your curls, Art had peeked in not too soon after, he walked over to were his wife stood but his eyes had gone straight to the perfection that was you.

“I just hope she loves it,” he whispered to Tashi and you’d heard, a simper crept onto your lips and had you been a bit nervous now. You started to unzip the garment bag and what was revealed had you nearly speechless with a croaked gasp. Your mouth hung slightly agape, pulling out maybe the most exquisite dress you had ever laid eyes on.

Soft pink sequins glittering underneath the hazy light of the sunset coming through the grand windows, a cream colored top of the dress lined in diamond embroidery and a bow tied in the middle. Valentino.

You could ultimately cry, it was your dream dress.

“Oh my god. It’s my dream dress.. it’s-it’s so lovely, It’s been on runways in Paris.” You tried not to stutter as flustered as you were,

“And now it’s yours.” Art replied and a happy grin appeared across his lips as he watched your expression that held a million words you couldn’t say, excitement bubbling through you.

Sitting down on the bed in front of you as you held the stunning garment in awe, Tashi spoke tenderly, “I knew you’d win and make us proud but Art wanted to do something special… he went and bought it for you.”

You met eyes with the gorgeously fit man, and you had only put your dress down to run over and hug him. “Thank you ! Thank you ! Thank you !”

Art laughed and held you to him gently but with all the bliss intended. You weren’t gonna let up as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your girlish giggle was something that turned his heart to liquid as it felt. Pulling back to look into his eyes again with bashful lashes and a hint of your real blush behind the perfect tint that had been added to your face. Art examined your doe eyes and it took everything in him not to carry you into the other room.

“You deserve it, pretty girl.” He uttered softly, so close and so quick to taking your lips, your breathe hitched a little as you felt Tashi come up behind you as well. Too close but too far.

“We’ll give you anything… and everything.” Her voice was sultry and low. You’d known everything in this moment couldn’t had been more perfect. Tashi couldn’t have been more open to you and that was everything you needed to know. Her lips hovering against your exposed neck and lips readying your skin.

Your eyes could have closed in elation. Art was still holding you up to him and you could say you were sharing breaths from how close your mouths had been to each other, to getting that release. Having both of them at once, finally. Here now. Your mind would go on overdrive as Tashi played with the neck line of your robe, pushing it down harshly slow to expose your shoulder, she had kissed it gently to which led you to let out a satisfied sigh before her presence had been taken back to linger by your ear.

“Get dressed baby, we can’t be late.” She coaxed and you had bitten your lip with want to pout.

Art lowered you slowly and he let Tashi help you slip into the dress once your robe was fully off. Only taking half a look at your perfectly perked breast that we’re exposed to the air, To him, and you watched him watch you. You could nearly see the longing hunger in his to kiss you, dig into you.

You felt like their muse and prize. You felt like a masterpiece they’d put together.

Tashi slipped the straps over your shoulders and let art zip up the back, he took his time as eyes wondered your delicate skin till you were secured in the dazzling piece. You giggled.

“How do I look ?” You spun a bit in front of the mirror and the couple looked at you as if you were some orb shinning just for them. Art stepped back some to examine you as he pushed his hands into his pockets not to touch even as badly as he wanted to. Every second you weren’t underneath him with those wide eyes and ethreal waist was all the more painful..

“Gorgeous. I don’t even want dinner, I just want you.” He complimented honestly and you had blushed terribly.

But he really did, only holding back from the knowledge that Tashi was admit about making it to dinner on time. Their team and friends all waiting for them, but wouldn’t the gratifying feeling of just taking you right now in front of Tashi be worth it ?

He knew seeing you like this, right now, pretty and perfectly put together by him and Tashi, looking at the two of them like some gratifying figures of your worth, would be the last time he looked at you so pure. Saw the innocence and liveliness in your eyes all before they had touched you and brought you to the other end of it all.

It was like his wife could practically read his mind as he watched you.

Her own hands fidgeting with one another in a squeeze and she sighed out briefly before standing. “You look heavenly, everyone is going to adore you, now come.”

Tashi fluffed your hair as you smiled at yourself once more in the mirror facing the ideal, perfect you back to your glance. Art helped you buckle your heels before you all made way to the lobby area where a car was waiting for you just to go to another swoon worthy superb hotel.

When you’d gotten into the dinning hall there was a chandelier hanging above the grand area that had quiet literally been bigger than your old apartment.

You more-less stared at it in awe for a moment before you felt a hand grace the small of your back as Art led you to where the tennis sponsorships and all of Art and Tashi’s wealthy “friends” had been. Even Patrick was there — which was not to your surprise since he had been around quite a lot, but you’d hardly spoken more than three actual conversations with him these past couple months.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of him, but more than he just wasn’t the nicest to you. You didn’t quite understand why at first but overtime you learned that he meant a lot to Tashi and Art, they had a different kind of bond. Something otherworldly. So you’d grown accustomed to his presence around often, and you just stayed quiet really when they’d all been together — Unless he was picking on you for gods knows why. Then, because you just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make fun of him, you’d pull the ‘aren’t you like forty ?’ card against his backhanded comments.

It probably led to him disliking you more, if it even was dislike, because he also would hit on you like a pervert and it made you knowledgeably uncomfortable.

The way his eyes would scan you from his height, being an entire foot taller than you, even taller than Art. And his lips would curl into a maddening grin that made you feel all sorts of frustration… or lust ?

You couldn’t quite figure out which it had been still, or if it were both, but you’d never admit to it regardless.

He’d thought the whole get up between you, Art and Tashi was a joke. Like you’d just been their arm candy for press and Arts torments.

Sometimes you’d thought if it had been internal jealousy hindering his motives towards you.

You had basically taken his closer than close “best friends” attention fully, and they spent as much time with you as they did with their own daughter Lily these days. Leaving an even smaller share of their attention for his own — and oh, how you knew that just pissed him straight off.

Not to mention you were young, had tons of pretty privilege and a bright future ahead of you that he didn’t. It would only make sense when all the facts added up that he wouldn’t take too kindly to you.

and you were honestly content with that.

Dinner had been going for a time and as everyone really fought to talk to Art and Tashi mostly, there were a few times when you were questioned as well. About your tennis training, or what it was like being coached by Tashi, along side Art. How you’d come accustomed to your new lifestyle — to which you’d propose in small, softly spoken answers that made great for your charisma check because they honestly all just adored you.

No one could stop staring at your perfectly put state at the edge of the table with Tashi at the head, and Art directly across from you. You felt like you had the universe and the stars at your hands, a taste of what it was like to be a true star. Like them.

All night you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Art for the life of you, sitting in front of you all honorable and stature.

His perfect blonde waves, glittering eyes when he smiled or laughed, cheek bones lifting and revealing his pearly white teeth, maybe the straightest you’d ever seen. The way he spoke, with so much surety of his successes and how he played with strands of his hair in a nervously cute way after he made a joke that obviously everyone laughed at because not only it was funny, but he is the Art Donaldson.

You tried not to sigh like a swooning school girl, but you really could. Playing with your fork absentmindedly as you took in all that he was.

You really hadn’t been paying attention to any of the conversation that was happening around you, because every time Art had made eye contact with you wistfully he’d given you a soft but reassuring smile. Rolling his eyes playfully when he dodged another question about what it was like to be ad campaigning for Adidas, a question he’d answered countless times that you and him had now made up an inside joke about.

You giggled quietly from across the table at his gesture and you looked around you at the others surrounding before you brought the tip of your heel to Arts ankle.

You inched it up his leg slowly, but enough to get him tripping on words and laughing nervously so his attention would go to you. His eyes made sync with yours as he swallowed. You bit your lip softly to hold back a grin.

“Yeah, I um- I thought it would be a good way to start the season-“ Art cleared his throat slightly as he tried to catch to the conversation as your foot had now been embarking his thigh.

You only took a sip of your champagne as you watched his breathing hitch a little as he struggled. He looked at you with pleading eyes and a slight breath escaping his lips with want. You tried not to break a giggle with how satisfied you were of your small act to get an arousal out of the man, and just make him take you into the nearest bathroom and fuck all of the play out of you. But that was getting more and more difficult as time went on, so you kept teasing him.

That was until you suddenly felt a firm hand grasp your thigh from your left side. Your eyes had darted away from Art to land on Tashi gripping you from under the table. She’d laughed off a conversation with a nearby friend before leaning into you,

“Don’t be a tease.” She affirmed in a soft but demanding plea. You’d sink into your chair and tried your best to hide a mischievous smile.

You couldn’t quite explain it — but something about making the two of them feel like they’d been out of their control of you, purely coaxing out their sexual desires inch by inch turned you on greatly. What else could you do to get a reaction out of them ? And what would they do ?

Taunt you ? Punish you ?

It was all your mind could focus on the rest of the night.

When dinner had been finished off and everyone was mingling now, you’d asked to explore the hotel while Tashi and Art got away with Patrick for more drinks. When you returned, they were all in the lounge area where not to many people were at all, just a few bartenders aside them and it was quite enough to overhear their conversation.

“God, she’s fucking pretty.” You over heard Patrick sputter over a glass of whiskey you we’re assuming.

Which one of his “girlfriends” that he had been prostituting himself to was he talking about now ?

“You two have truly out done yourselves. She has a face of an angel. Literally.”

“Mmm, that’s why we wanted her.” Tashi had added with a chuckle. “Additional to her being talented and well disciplined of course.”

Oh… they had been talking about you.

“I just will never understand. If you two wanted a sugar baby so bad, why couldn’t you have asked me ?” He laughed.

“You patronized us for years, why would we give you money ?” Tashi said so casually as she took a sip of her martini and you’d have to cover your mouth not to let a chuckle escape.

“I like to call it constructive company. And I brought Art back to one of his greatest championship seasons of all time. All those people, all that press, I helped him.”

“By.. patronizing me ?” Art questioned with both sly and genuine curiosity to how high of ignorant heights Patrick would go to prove a point.

“You didn’t help him do shit unless it was up to me.” Tashi denounced, a look turned slightly cold in her eyes and Patrick had chortled, shaking his head after he took another swing of his glass.

“She’s wearing a twelve thousand dollar fucking dress.”

“That she earned.” Art defended and you’d felt your heart skip a beat briefly as you stood a little straighter to listen in, a smile on your lips now.

“By hitting a ball with a racket ?” Patrick couldn’t stop poking fun at your existence being near the couple, even starting off so sweetly — he just couldn’t help himself.

Art and Tashi were so used to his childishness they could handle conversations like this with him from the back of their hand. It amazed you how much they loved him when to outsiders it had seemed like he’d gotten on the very last spectacle of their nerves.

“Is it because I’m not cute enough ? Or wait, let me guess, not close enough in age to your daughter ?”

Tashi had shook her head as she looked away from him, standing next to their lounge chairs at the bar as she’d now been getting fed up.

“You mock and make fun of her age, yet you’re the one sitting over here complaining about not getting enough attention like a child.”

“What would she ever need to complain about ? You spoil the little shit to death!”

Both Art and Tashi had slipped up and shown the undeniable expression on both of their faces that they had been essentially over with the conversation by now, everything would go right through one of Patrick’s ears and out the other. Loving the place of confusion and frustration he had riled them into, Patrick’s lips had upturned into a smile. In his reality, he’d just won.

Half his teeth had shown as he watched Tashi’s state, already dissociative and glacial as she’d washed down another sip from her glass. “Just let me know when you’re ready to turn your little triangle with her into a square.”

Art laughed out loud, leaning onto the countertop of the bar, knowing all too well what hid in his childhood best friend, he’d really known as a shared lover’s heart.

“Envy truly rules you Patrick. Can’t stand to accept her lifestyle or what she has, yet you’d wanna fuck her.”

The brunette looked eloquently pleased as he nodded with smugness and a forced hidden smile. “Likely so.”

Tashi had rolled her eyes at the air, the conversation flowing through it, and the words of a man she’d looked at as simply an idiot she couldn’t help but be in love with in all reality. Leaving her empty glass on the counter and a tip, she had removed her chair to get in Patrick’s face.

Close and well personal. The look in her eye was dangerous but she held an uplifted expression overall,

“Mark my word when I say you will literally never touch her, Patrick. Ever.” The scolding woman left him with her daggers up and in her words.

You could feel your chest practically pound just from the way they’d all basically had a match within itself over you.

You’d gotten so wrapped in their lives in such little time, you were worth something to fight for. Literally their ball to throw and catch with ease. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the thought.

You’d made just as much a dent on Art and Tashi like they had certainly done on you.

♡

You’d both been changed into your pajamas after freshening up when it had been just you and Tashi in her and Arts shared hotel room together. Art had gone and decided to read Lily a bedtime story for the night.

Tashi was in the midst of applying lotion to her smooth defined skin, and you lie on their bed with a tennis magazine in hand as you flipped through pages of the latest issue that Art had been featured in of course.

“I’ve always wanted to model for Alo. You think they’d let me ? Or would I get rejected because I’m too short ? Most likely…“

Your voice had shifted from chipper to slight disappointment quickly as the realization settled into you, you’d always had such heightened dreams dispute your height or petite size, it had been why you’d directed your life to the ballet. Till that too was just another pipe dream.

Tashi made a quiet tiff sound when she’d recognized the heavy-heartedness in your voice, of course, she knew a thing or two when it came to the sunken feeling of failed dreams and living through if only’s.

“You can campaign for whatever and whoever you want… if you keep playing and stay on top.”

You took adjust of her words with a nod and you flipped another page, “Then so be it, I'm afraid I’d go great lengths to add model to my resume.”

Tashi had tittered softly, and it was a moment before you’d noticed a more sustainable silence and you felt like she’d had something pondering on her mind that she just had to get off the cuff, you’d known it would come — but it was just the countdown to when that kept you. You heard soft foot imprints on the hotel carpet as the woman made her way from the bath area to where you’d lay on the bedside.

“Baby, let’s talk for a second.” She ordered quietly and you’d made your way to the edge of the bed where she stood. You tried not to swallow too hard at the news she had to address.

You’re initial habit was to just pray it wasn’t a ‘get the fuck out, you’re no longer useful or wanted’ kind of talk.

“Art and I have been talking about how amazing you’ve been recently with practice, your matches and just staying on top of it all lately. We really are so proud of you.” Tashi began, and you showcased a coy smile, to which she reached out to stroke your cheek gently, her own cheek to shoulder as she ran glossy eyes over your softly faded lipstick and glowing skin in the dim light effortlessly.

She looked at you like some kind of jewel to her goddess ascension. Her touch was heaven. As gentle and rare as it was that you’d ever even got it, made it mean all the more.

It was everything.

“We think you’re ready. For that next step of pleasure,” her words washed over you briefly and your wide eyes blinked rapidly as you took in her softened face.

“I- really ?” You inquired. Tashi nodded slow,

“Really.”

You’d bitten your lip, and Tashi had brought her hand to grasp your chin as she stood above you now. Your eyes had followed her, never breaking for a second to lose her eye-line and she wanted to coo at the way you looked so open and invested in her next move, sentence, whatever she’d given you. She stared down at you,

“But you have to promise, if I let him fuck you, you’ll continue to be good. Better.”

You nodded almost too quickly. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you had forgotten to answer.

“I promise. I’ll be perfect.”

You didn’t know how to tell her you’d been waiting to be theirs in a way that was more than in the game, but physically and within since the beginning. The moment you saw them greet you that day. You’d thought about it dozens of times, Art being inside you, one with you, and Tashi watching, coaching. Instructing you.

Just how you’d been when you played for them on the courts. Perfect with every move they’d asked of you and with each hit of your racket you’d let out another euphoric noise of gratification.

It had all symboled out in your head to lead you here.

Tashi gave you a warm expression, waves gone to curls that famed her face and your elated flush was all you could muster up aside feelings, you hadn’t known what was gonna happen next but all you could do was stay relaxed and prepared.

It wasn’t too long before Art had sauntered back into the hotel room, shutting the door softly he’d made sure,

“Baby, she asked if you could turn up her lullaby,” Art called to Tashi and you’d thought it was ultimately adorable Lily had requested a lullaby still to fall asleep to, and Tashi could easily adjust the volume on her phone.

Art had walked from the door to where he’d appear from behind a wall too see you.

Spotted you lying on the bed. Soft messy curls brushing your shoulders and a pretty bashful smile on your face as you awaited him was almost all too much. He practically pranced over to you as you stood on your knees to push the comforter back for the two of you to settle into.

Art had sunk into the pillows and blankets, you immediately coming to his side as you got comfortable. His arm around you, your head against his chest. Your favorite place to be.

There wasn’t a night that passed since you’d gotten accustomed with the two, that you didn’t spend like this. Cuddled with Art. Safe in the barrier of his arms, your chin had sat delicately on his peck and you’d look up at him as he traced your tender features, a light smile showcasing his lips.

“You were so radiant today.” He chimed sweetly and your eyes wondered his pretty face, looking as if he’d give you the moon right there. “Are you happy ?”

You sat up a bit to look at him fully, your eyes synced up with his, you nodded. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt better.”

Arts smile was hazy and it was smooth when he reached and towed you to him, brushing a thumb against your soft lips and he watched them, “Can I add on to that ?”

You nodded with a light grin, then quickly but with ease, your lips melted into one another.

You’d held a hand to his neck as you took the initiative to deepen the kiss forward, letting his perfectly plump ones take you over and move as one with yours. Breathes passing between the two of you as you both went back and forth to keep mouth over the other. Arts hands glided up your backside softly to slip up under your silk nightgown and you’d adjusted yourself so you had been sitting on his lap, he pulled you tighter in so you’d been flush with his chest and his body was snug between both your thighs.

If there was one thing Art loved so dearly, it was kissing.

His ultimate and favorite way to express admiration. You’d saw it in the way he kissed Tashi’s body tenderly after any small gesture of anything, her wrist, her hips, her chin.

He’d fought for dominance over your mouth even being underneath you, your throat vibrating at the sensation of your tongue meeting his and you let out a soft noise of satisfaction as he kissed you so diligently. He only stopped for a couple seconds in between kisses, “need- - to kiss.. your sweet cunt.” He protested as you’d held his face in your hands.

You didn’t want to pull away from kissing him till he gave you the word, you giggled softly and he’d melted back into the pillows that primed you both. You’d only leaned back so his big hands could inch your hips and pull on the sides of your panties. Soft pink and lace. He and Tashi had always kept you in that color because it was just Arts favorite — seeing it on you did wonders to him and ending up coaxing a tent in his jeans often.

He let his hands linger there before he had pulled them off of you finely, he looked up at you with a pleased grin at how you were so ready for him and receptive to his small but impactful touches. Your skin started to heat up at the shift in the way he’d looked at you. Now with hunger and a million ways running his mind on how to devour you.

You settled a blushing smile as you climbed past his chest and he watched you, with ease you could feel how he’d let his tender fingertips stroke the back of your thighs. He had to push your night gown slightly more over your hips to exposed your heat to him fully.

“Fuck..” he croaked, pressing a kiss to your aching clit already, you’d been wet the whole night practically, waiting for him to have you like this. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, watching him kiss you there made a whimper fall out of you. “Such a pretty pussy, my god.”

His kisses gathering your wetness before a stripe of his tongue had coaxed your folds, it made your head fall back as the sensitivity over came you. You looked back down to watch him maneuver you open because you just couldn’t allow yourself to miss a second of it.

Your eyebrows knitting together as he dipped his tongue into you, nose rubbing up against your clit just right and a deep moan had escaped you. Your hands clawing at his hair briefly and you couldn’t help but move your hips some accordingly to the movements of his jaw.

“Oh- -please.. yes.” You whine and you felt the vibrations sparse through your body as Art had groaned into your core.

You’d fallen out of reality for a second with how his tongue explored the tightness of you, sucking and flicking all over your most vulnerable spots in pleasure. Your hair had fallen into your face as you felt him bring you back to consciousness by grabbing your shuttering hips above him and moving you gracefully against his face, the sent of you overwhelming him in a way that he practically lived for.

Tashi had trudged into the room as she pulled her robe over her arms, she took a seat on the sofa chair that was directly in front of the bed. Her eyes going venal with lust almost immediately as she observed the two of you.

Arts grip on your thighs moved to squeeze your ass, you whined out as you held on to the headboard in front of you. Your savory hips moving in ravenous ways and Art had taken in the way you moaned and whined out for him to continue. Stomach going tight with need to release.

“mmh- Art, i’m coming.. I’m coming,”

You closed your eyes as you gasped out a choked moan. Your juices were meeting Arts tongue like sap, and he’d keep licking you clean till more just dripped down his chin.

Your thighs shook terribly when your orgasm ran though and Art gripped them to keep you still, he moaned out a soft satisfied noise after sucking you to overstimulation.

His hands lifted you up from him, and he moved to level you down on the bed sheets. You smiled in bliss as your head hit the comforter and Art followed your tiny body compared to his. He leaned in to kiss your neck to jaw as he half chuckled half sighed, “you’re so good for me”

You couldn’t help but get bashful at his praise and your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he kissed up your jaw, hands coming in contact with your legs as he kept you spread for him, fingers rubbing up and down your drooling cunt to keep you aroused there. You looked up at him looking down at you, and your delicate hand moved from his shoulder to his sweats he still had on. Palming him through the fabric as your chest heaved.

He was so big. It nearly made you lightheaded from the grasps of his hardness in your hand.

Arts crystal blues followed your expression to where your hand had been active. Looking back to you, “you want it ?”

You nodded shyly, eager to just feel his length stretch you.

“Please,”

“You sure ?”

“I want it to be you.”

Art had looked up and his eyes made contact with Tashi, seeing her view right back. She’d only looked approving without having to say a word, and he was all knowing of that look. He focused back on you, “It’ll hurt first. Then you’ll feel good.. I swear I’ll take good care of you.”

“I know. You’re like ice.” You smiled while he grinned at you and began to lean up from your body to take off his shirt, exposing his bare chest to you along with his enchanting eight pack (you’d counted correctly multiple times)

Pushing his sweat pants aside, you could see the way his cock sprang out and you almost moaned at the sight. It had been everything you’d thought it would be and more truly. He was long and girthy. You struggled to picture how it would fit. But you’ve come to far to get all nervous now.

Tashi raised a brow, she’d noticed your apprehension even from across the room, “You’re thinking. Don’t over think it.”

Her voice came calming and she was right. It was the same thing she’d say to you before you would take your first serve on the court. You don’t think you just feel.

“I’m not overthinking, I’ve never done this before and he’s just- - wow.” Your breath hitched slightly and Art had chuckled at your state as flattered as he was.

“You’re fine.” He noted before pulling you by the thighs up to him again and your giggle filled the air as your locks had followed behind you. He’d been lined up against you and his fingers pushed a few strands of your hair from your face, taking in the sight of your pure beauty and vulnerability. “I’m gonna teach you so many things...”

That made you whimper softly and he hadn’t even been in yet. You bit your lip as his hands stroked your thigh softly and it relaxed you, leading up to your hips as he held you there. Your stomach had gone into knots when you felt the tip of him at your entrance, reaching out to a pillow nearby.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay ?”

You nodded, Art had used the tip of his cock to push open your folds as he slipped through your heat before finding your opening and started slowly sinking into you, his eyes found yours before your face was contorted into pain and you let go of a choked out moan.

Art held you, hands keeping you in place and his eyes locked on you as he made sure to be gentle,

“Hey, look at me.. that’s my girl.” He praised as you relaxed and did so, keeping your focus on him as he pushed on your spread legs so he could bury into you easier. You could feel every vain of him as he filled you up and it was indescribable.

The lips of your pussy starting to go feral with pulse as you took him in till he bottomed out inside of you and you’d never felt so stretched in your life, you started whimpering and trembling at the feeling.

Arts hands had found their way to your most comforting spot, on your hips, as he guided you. The feeling of your tightness gripping him was like heaven on earth.

“I’m gonna move. Remember it’ll start feeling good, yeah ?”

“Uh huh,” you couldn’t really think of words to answer with at this point but you were so glad you had his guidance to talk you through it, through the new feeling you’d never experienced before.

Art started to thrust nice and with perfect pace till your back automatically arched off of the bed, moans and whines poured from your lips as your head fell in pleasure. He was holding you in place and it felt like all you had to do was lie and take him like you’d been fantasizing every night practically. Fully sinking into the feeling of rapture.

Your body began to move with his and you felt him palm one of your breasts as he fucked into you, “mmm, yes- - yeah, fuck” your melted whines sputtered out and Art let out a deep groan at the sight of you beneath him so tight, yet spread, wetness coaxing between the two of you and he slid you up and down his dick.

“That’s it. Good girl.” He murmured, your skin slapping against his and it did feel really, really good.

Your head had fallen fuzzy and you wanted something, anything to hold on to, Art noticed and offered you his hands which you took and held with appreciation. “More- - more !.. oh,” Art had felt your cunt clutching him like a perfect fit and he wished he could hold on to this feeling of having you for the first time, all sweet and spread out for him to take, kept somewhere for him to have forever. But he knew for a fact it would certainly stick with you forever.

The way your fingers intertwined with his as you closed your eyes in bliss he knew you meant it. More — so he picked up the pace and fell to pounding into you. You cried out his name and your chest heaved.

It felt so fucking good

Tashi had ordered room service and everything, a cup of tea. But either of you had been too fucked out to notice.

Pre cum pooled at the base of Art’s cock as he rutted into you and moaned at the sight that would never leave his mind he granted. He felt by the way your walls were fluttering around him that you’d be close soon,

“You gonna cum for me, sweet girl?”

“Yeah, I wanna cum for you, make me cum” your voice had gone weak as he rutted into you and panted, but he thought it was so adorable of your effort to respond even knowing all your senses were on overdrive in the moment.

Your body had began to tremble before Art had flipped and lifted you so your back was as flush with his chest as much as possible with your height difference, and he slipped himself right back within your core which made you let out a strangled cry. He continued fucking you as he held your petite body close to his, moving your hair aside so he could lick a spot on your neck to leave a deep kiss. And you were moaning his name over and over again,

“That’s right baby, I feel you.. you’re so close, let it out.”

You whimpered with each thrust as you took his dick and it was like you had a second heart beat, because when you finally reach your climax, you could of sworn you saw stars.

Ripples of fireworks spreading throughout your body as you came hard. “Oh ! Oh fuck..”

Art panted in your ear and rubbed you through it, feeling you cum around him and the pretty noises that escaped your throat he didn’t even know you had in there. “Shit you’re gonna make me cum..”

“Don’t- - cum inside her yet,” Tashi had began, but it was too late. Art had been pumping you full — you could feel his seed coating your walls as you stilled and let it take over you, mouth completely “o” shaped as you took it and a soft groan slipped out of the both of you.

“Shit, sorry. Is she not on the pill ?” Art breathed eyes meeting Tashi across the room,

“She will be first thing tomorrow morning.” she said nonchalantly and you and Art had practically melted into limbs.

You didn’t want him to, but he had pulled out of you and all you could see was his cum spilling out from your puffy cunt, Art licked his lips at the sight and watched you watch before getting up to get a towel to clean you up.

When he came back your chest had been caving up and down, a grin stuck to his lips as he wiped the cloth between your thighs. “You did so well princess, do you feel good ?” The blonde leaned in to shower you with kisses and you had a dazed smile with glossy eyes.

“Yes… let’s do it again please,” you breathed out and Art laughed before tossing the towel and laying back on the center of the bed with you.

“You can. I’m tired.” He leaned back and closed his eyes after placing you on top of him.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you shook your head, messy curls falling every which way and your arms had hooked around Arts body dearly. Ignoring the way your body had gone limp and you were pretty sore, but you decided that could wait till tomorrow. Just wanting to be there with him without a moment wasted — you lie your head back on his chest and you could feel Art bring his arms to wrap around you sweetly, just holding you there.

A/N: TY guys for all the support on prt one of this series !! I literally love u, and I love it here. This was sm fun to write. I’m like so back <3 also ! tittle of the chapter is inspired by ‘because of you’ unreleased by Lana Del Rey so go listen to it on yt bc it’s so fucking good xoxo

[themareverine]

Designated Driver | oldman!Logan x namelessfem!OC

SYNOPSIS: “Hey driver!” Tits, yeah—counts two of 'em. What Logan can't quite shake isn't the drunk-off-her ass's $20,000 tit job, or even the way his passengers embarrass themselves with shameless come-ons, stupid amounts of money. something else, entirely—a pretty little thing all done up in makeup and curls, wishing she were anywhere but third-wheeling a drunk hen party. "Sorry about my friend, she's—" "Didn't even notice her, honey."

warnings: this is so offensively long, I'm SORRY. flirting, drunkenness, flashing, maybe some oldman!logan inappropriate thoughts, maybe a kiss, general shyness/awkardness of that girl, language, not proofread, mentions of oral sex, OC has blue eyes.

a/n: and finally, after many weeks, it's here. not entirely sure how i feel about this, it's very self indulgent. let me know what you think, and maybe there needs to be a part two?

There’s a lot of things about this fucking limo that Logan hates. 

For one, you couldn’t ask for a shittier lease agreement, and if such a hellish thing dared to exist, Satan holds the pink slip. Two years ago it had seemed like a good fucking idea, leasing some long black experimental piece of Chrysler shit that was heavy off the line and a low fatass—hot as fuck though, with chrome plated lugs. Midnight metal flake showed every piece of God’s earth, the color of sin. Washed the fucker every other day. Couldn’t make green with a dirty rig, and he was an anal retentive sonuvabitch like that to begin with. And the interior, fuck that, it would tell secrets it showed every damn piece of filth that fell into it. Paid or otherwise. 

This shitpiece had a tendency to run hot and burn crude, but, she got the groceries—brought home bacon, if that was even still a thing in this century. Toss up between this and the Navigator the color of bad ideas, he’d flipped for the Chrysler. Industry standard, turned heads, attracted the upper echelon. No intention of hauling around fucktards into the suburbs—black paint looked good under Vegas neon on the strip. 

But the biggest fucking thing he hated about this rig— fucking privacy partition. Busted worse than a fat lip and had been since the jump. Any serious driver, that would’ve been the first thing to check. Separate him from the sin—hot piece of ass that slid into the backseat looking at him like he’s dinner, a couple too deep in on the red to think straight, the fucker on business hiding his wedding ring in his dick pocket as he picks up an STD. 

The first God-awful time he’d went to use it, the damn thing had all but stood up and shrieked in his ear. Grinding gears, the knock of a seized electric motor—scared the shit out of the handsy blonde who’d been trying to get his dick wet since the moment she’d dropped into the back of the Chrysler, tits all but popping from what looked like at least a size too small black—thing. Hadn’t been a dress, he’d seen plenty of them slide in and out—she’d made a spectacle of showing off the little lace number squirreled away for the right price. And it wasn’t that he’d been preening for a look, wasn’t his style—but when it’s right there. Plain as the nose on anyone’s face, and he’s been chaste as a priest for fucking years. It taking up all the glass of his rearview, looking like a felony—the devil had all but welded his attention between her legs. 

”Looks like you’re stuck with me, hm?”  

Fucking partition. A business-only kiss landed two hundred green ones between his abs and the elastic of his Calvins. A handful of hours of rack and many shotglasses later had put him on the scent to hell, the damn dealership. Four hours from the border, four hours from any kind of work—he’d all but flown the thing into the service bay. Demanded a new partition. And, Logan had been laughed out of a lot of places the last two centuries he’d been sucking air—laughed, jeered, driven out with pitchforks. Circumstances aside, it all ended the same. Vamoose, pissed off his rocker.  

An astronomical estimate later, with the fucked-in-the-rear-end isn’t covered by warranty—his fist had collided with the service writer’s nose faster than his patience had evaporated for the blonde. All but jammed the prick’s deviated septum up into his brainspace—Logan had felt it between his knuckles. Only thing keeping his patience held together, keeping the claws in, the man’s crunching cartilage had given him a high not much removed from amphetamine—it had felt good. Feel some asshat’s blood on his hands, staining his skin. See it hit  the floor in fat, thick drops. Feel the warmth of it fade as he brushed it away, coppery scent an idea beneath his nose so familiar it may as well pay rent. 

Didn’t get his partition, though. Just a bad taste of customer service and the satisfaction of seeing a grown man cry. 

Logan isn’t a man to complain—never did change the cards dealt you at the gametable of living. Better to shut up and play, make due with what you’ve got than wish away opportunities. Sure, an almost-lemon of a leased Chrysler with a busted partition wasn’t great, but, it wasn’t that long ago that he’d have given his right nut for the chance to work, much less actual green. Put up and shut up had been the mantra since he’d all but popped out of his mother, and it had, for all intents and purposes, kept him this side of the dirt. Sucking air and feeling, if nothing more—and what was surviving, if not sucking air and feeling? 

Doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. 

Music that’s been muffled most of the ride tonight suddenly isn’t, the back door of the rig flinging open, a wide arch, revealing the world beyond. Neon bleeds across the black leather of his interior. A smack of humidity rushes in, almost immediately fogs the passenger windows— he keeps it ass-in-winter cold, A/C all but screaming full bore. Likes it that way, keeps him awake. Keeps them awake, he isn’t hauling anyone’s ass anywhere because they fell asleep in his seats. 

And while he isn’t startled—there isn’t fucking anything that could scare him, he doesn’t think—Logan’s spine pulls into a straight line against his seat at the sliver of night outside the door. Alarm bells sound off in the back of his head, eyes narrowed on the rearview—hand all but lava, hovering over the gearshift. He’s been here before, on the jump. Ready to rock and roll, ready to kill—should killing need be. He’s lived two centuries on this edge, this cliff. Walking the line between reflex and ready. It’s almost carved into his skin, alarm—comes as naturally as the crest and fall of his chest. 

Logan relaxes a little when a peek of skin slips hurriedly into the back seat, familiar stiletto heels. Air in the limo immediately snaps to an all-soldier attention, flustering—like a disturbed hen rustling her chicks. Something isn’t right, isn’t stable—nuclear, almost. Dangerous. The car shifts a little with incoming weight as one of the night’s passengers whisks into the back. Curl and makeup and the familiar whiff of peaches escorts her in as she pulls the door closed, all too quickly for this to be a normal, unbothered arrival. 

Her. Muscle in his jaw ticks off, it takes willpower not to wriggle in the front seat, shift his weight a little. Usually it helped shake off the hot weight of sex rolling around the base of his gut, desire. Carnal things he’d learned to live without, suppress. Animalistic and snapping at his spine like frothing wolves. Most times, it was easy to not notice—girls, women, came and went in their short dresses and makeup. Pretty to see, but venomous little things. Maneaters, trouble on stilts. None of them were pretty–pretty in the way that mattered, pretty souls. Ugliness shot behind their eyes like bullets, low and cold. Dimes and dozens, nameless and unnoteworthy as they slipped him tips, batted their lashes, kissed him like he was their plaything because who’s he to fight a pair of tits? Forgettable is understating it. 

But her? He hasn’t been able to unglue her piercing eyes from his brain matter. And, he’s tried—like it or not, he’s tried bailing water out of this canoe, a canoe that’s been hallowed and empty for God knew how long. But it’s like emptying water back into the ocean—it only comes back, heavier and heavier.  

No dice. Close, but no cigar–unlucky bastard. 

She’d slipped into the limo before the night had even been an idea, one of three who’d decided to split fare for a sober ride. Pharmacy, first, for little more than IVs of electrolytes and fluids—never had seen girls guzzle so fast, but, whatever. Mile-a-minute chatter he hadn’t even bothered to pace had kept them busy most of the ride into the metroplex, and Logan should’ve prayed they’d ignored him. Kept his fat trap shut and just let them guide him, but God, no. He’d asked—asked for directions. Where they were going. 

Had asked, and fuck him, that had sent things off with a bang. As if they hadn’t realized he’d been there, all three of them had locked eyes with him in the rearview, surprised thrown over the air like a stifling blanket. Heartbeats later, awkward and thick, one of them had leaned forward. Arms over the seat, showing off everything God had given her as she’d all but pumped her bedazzled phone in his face as if it were a shotgun. 

He’d clocked her noticing he wasn’t wearing a ring. Was jacked as fuck under an two-undone button shirt and jacket that fit him like sin. Deliberate choice, but–she’d all but started drooling right there on his lap, hungry like a starving man at banquet. 

Asking God for some shred of mercy had done little—the look on her face. He’d never forget it, had seen enemies look at him with more mirth and pity. Shit. Hungry, in the eyes. Desperate, like a dying woman choking on her own libidol. After rattling off the address, it would've been faster if he’d just hit the brakes and sent her flying forward through the window. Skulking back into her seat as if it were an X-rated shot, she’d eye fucked him hard until she’d been dragged back into hushed, schoolgirl conversation. Gross. 

And that was it, the beginning of the end. Eyes glued to the back of his head like some kind of anchor—Logan could’ve tasted them from here. Was hell trying not to make eye contact in the rearview, feeling their gaze hunting him like wild banshees. Spiking adrenaline, heady plumes of pheromones. Arousal, unlike anything he’d ever wanted to scent—stunk up the air like God knew. Half-starved vixens, all low and bedroom eyes, begging for trouble in all the right little ways that leave men slobbering fools. Had they been parked and out of the Chrysler, the two of them would’ve been on their knees, if not on his cock. 

He’d blasted the air again, because the air in the damn car was so thick he would’ve cut it in halves. 

Low lashes, smoky eyes. Lips the color of cherries. Tight black dresses and heels higher than heaven, they’d been dressed to kill—maybe a little less. Lobotomize, maybe. Cut out hearts, certainly—blue ball, absolutely. 

Pity the bastard who gets the taste of these tarts, pity, and probably mercy. 

Bachelorettes, he’d guessed off the gun. Correctly, too—not two blocks from CVS and out came cheap accessories. FUCK ME may as well have been written in lipstick on Stuck-In-the-Middle’s forehead, he assumed she was the future betrothed. By the look of her, much less the smell, she’d been aching for tonight. Primed and desperate, like an oil-starved pistol. Clawing for it, walking the heat of the desert for change. Something else, something new, something dangerous—cock. Dick. Be it Tom, Harry, or some other poor fool—Logan could clock it from anywhere. She’d been sitting on this for a hot minute. Maybe since she’d been born. 

And Logan’s uncertain who to pity more—her or the mediocre cock she’s about prowling for—the lopsided tiara, tacky dimestore BRIDE sash out of a CVS bag were just warning signs. Red flags, if you were smart about it. Darkness in her eyes would make any man second guess the two carats on her finger, if men weren’t animals. And they were, every one of them—and she’s far too drop-dead to not demand attention, to not homewreck and ruin some poor, unsuspecting fool’s evening. 

Watching her slip those two carats into her handbag, he’d just shook his head. 

Silence to stir the dead had followed after they’d eye fucked him into celibacy. Blissful, sweet as the Nile quiet. A creak of movement, the slip of skin on leather—her. Short brunette curls with highlights, icy blues.  Defined collarbones in a hardly-strapped dress, big earrings. Sparkles, everywhere, blended into makeup that’s been on awhile but still looks good. And she, she isn’t like the rest—not by a mile. How she moves, the way her lashes flutter. Doe-eyed and sweet. Doesn’t smell like sin, the kiss of color on her cheeks isn’t blush, either. 

Peaches, this one smells like fucking peaches. Something floral. 

She’s sweet. Saccharine, sugary. Like everything Logan’s forgotten. Pretty, in that girl-next-door kinda way—the way he’s always noticed, the way nobody else ever does. And what a pretty thing like her is doing in the back of his sinwagon, riding with Jezebels, hunting for trouble—he’ll never know. 

Hours before this, she’d leaned forward, pretty hands on the back of his seat. Done up nails that looked fake, but not cheap. This close, he could see her contact lenses replacing nine-to-five frames, the permanent little indentations on her nose were unmissable. Ocean eyes smiled at him through the glass of his rearview, as if it were a game. Good at it, she won—he blinked first. 

Offered him a little half smile, that dust of color on her nose darkening to an almost strawberry. When his eyes hit hers again from the road, icy blues ramped up like pulsing neon, unlike any he’d ever seen in two fucking centuries. Difficult to think, he’d had to realize he was holding his breath in the pocket of his cheek, hot against his molars. She’d reached across the back of the seat to gently nudge him with her elbow—hey. It should’ve sounded like something you gave to horses, but it was—considerate. 

Nearly fucking polite.

You got the address okay, sir? If his tongue hadn’t swollen to the size of his balls he’d have dared to laugh at her. Sir. If he thinks hard, Logan can’t remember the last time he’d been seriously called sir, from a place of consideration, behind the ribs. He’s been alive for hundreds of years, seen a lot of shit and blood, but has been called a professional and crisp sir all but five times in his existence on God’s planet. 

Shaking himself out of it, he tells himself she isn’t the first pretty skirt to grace the leathers of his Chrysler. To look pretty and smell good, to stir up his cold blood. Wouldn’t be the last, by far. Part of his marketing was that he was safe. Stuck around, even when the witching hour faded into bleeding colors of morning. Fair & There, as if he were a fucking marketing guru. 

She’d slipped out of the limo with her friends even though he’d wanted her to stay. Wanted to smell her and look at her all night, mull over all the things in his life he’d abandoned. Think about how, maybe, in some other world, bend of time, something that sweet could belong to him. But, she’d thanked him. Obviously the designated sober of the night, she’d arranged to text fifteen minutes before they wanted to leave in case he wanted to get a drink or took another gig. 

I’ll be here all night, and that wasn’t a lie. The flask burning a hole against his heart had enough whiskey to last him until morning, another bottle tucked under the seat for safekeeping. He was safe, he was there, and too damn tired to even try to think about driving around the city on a time schedule. 

It’d been two hours, parked under the neon at the curb. Not even midnight. Normal clients would just be breaking stride, setting paces. At the gate, snorting like stallions in heat. Rutting like animals, working the game. Nothing he didn’t know all too well, he’d lived his wild years a lifetime ago—he knew what sex and booze, a good time smelled like. Could clock it every time, wasn’t daft. Had witnessed his fair share of back-alley fucks, the straightening of a hemline. Crooked buttons and tented-out slacks. 

Tonight wouldn’t be different, he assumed—well. Had assumed. Which, as the saying went, made him an ass. 

Her heartbeat from the frontseat is almost tangible, hard and fast. Jackrabbit—as if she’d dropped it in his hands, bleeding and raw all over his fingers. Logan’s eyes fall away from the rearview for a beat, ticks back to her when she slides across the seat. Straightening the end of her dress, which hits below the knee–or would, if she were upright, but now pulls at her thighs. And the way she fiddles with it suggests it’s shorter than it was earlier in the evening, when sin was exciting and didn’t slap like a bitch. 

Tucked in against the opposite door, looking out tinted glass like it’s a skyline worth seeing, not just a lot of nothing. And something’s off, he can feel it in the little pulses of electricity of the air, the heat in her blood. Anger. The tick tick tick of frustrated fingernails on the edge of the window. Upset. It buzzes in her blood, which he can feel thumping against her bones from here. Slick scent of sweat between her thighs, swirls of alcohol and pyrotechnic smoke mixed with fairy dusting drugs. It’s enough to make him shift, crack the window. 

Long gone are the peaches and florals, now she just bleeds with heat and virility enough to stir the gods. Fucking perfect. 

How long’s it been, old boy? Dull pangs in his cock make him shift up in his seat, stir some blood into his feet. Eyerolls, gaze hitting the pavement out his window, sick fuck. Just a girl, just like the rest. Reaches inside his breast pocket for a cigar and a light. 

And as much as he wishes it isn’t true, Logan can’t quite shake that she ain’t just a girl—not by a shot, long or short. He’s seen a thousand of them, sure—seen and tasted and fucked senseless. Yeah. But—none like this. None that make him burn at the drop of a hat and a smile. None that twist his guts like a corkscrew, rip him open like he’s a fresh kill. He didn’t even know her name, anything about her. He swore to God he wasn’t this type of man, couldn’t be bought with some pretty eyes and cherry lipstick. Happened to wet-behind-the-ears boys only ever hoping their balls dropped into manhood, not guys like him. Not men that had seen a thing or two, not men who had sampled the female sex from every fucking era the last two hundred years had presented. 

Not men with demons, not men with metal bones and rust spinning through his cells like Satan’s blood. Not him. 

But it doesn’t seem to matter, because her presence in the limo upsets his sensibilities like an earthquake. Seemed to fillet him like a fat bass, pull his ribs back to watch his heart beat. Everything he didn’t know, everything she could be—choked the life out of him, those wicked blues heavy as steel. If he weren’t careful, she’d see through him, like—like memories. And she, like everyone else, wouldn’t like what she saw lurking in his bones, in the organ behind his ribs. 

All his life hiding who he is, years hiding from everything the world wanted to label him, only to—

Fuck. Yeah. Something’s off—is his leg bouncing? The fuck is that about? Fuck, fuck. His fingers card through his hair, cough aching in his bronchial tubes. Shit. 

Another glance in the glass reveals she isn’t even looking at him, thoughts out the window in the shifting low lights of the limo’s interior. Maybe a million miles from here, but nonetheless—she’s everywhere, every damn where in the space of the Chrysler, this sinwagon that’s messing with his head. Everything about her. Her scent, her pheromones playing him like a fucking game, the heat along her spine. Blood in her veins, ripping through her heart, the pull and push of arteries and cardiovascular muscle. Mesh of her lungs, rising and falling. He’s tuned into it like it’s the fucking evening news. 

And everything about this is wrong, his guts swim with it. 

Fingering the cigar between two swollen knuckles, Logan ignores pain that zings. Rips through the adamantium in his arm like it’s starving, hunting for air. And Logan is maybe considering that he’s lost his mind, that it’s somehow taken up residence in his dick, when—-a sniffle.

Good fuck. Is she crying? Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It’s magic, the little breathy thing girls do when they’ve been crying, but don’t want you to flag it. Witchraft, maybe. Men will never understand how they do it, cry without tears, but—it’s a thing. Definitely, confirmed by science somewhere, some egghead in a lab taking notes on female specimens and how they manage such emotion while still looking like she does. Vaguely his memories spin with all the girls he’s known throughout his life, and how every single one of them have this ability hardwired into their core being, mutations aside. 

Biting the cigar between his teeth in the corner of his mouth, he flicks the lighter between his thumb and index finger, holding it up in line of sight. His head angles to look up at the rearview, a rough cough rattling the mesh of his lungs enough to trigger her attention. And sure enough, she has been crying—her knuckle gently brushes at the trails of tears all but neon on her face beneath the limo’s lights, eyes flicking to the rearview to meet his. 

Coughing, he eases his back against the seat. Hot muscle burns a little as tension bleeds away, “You care if I smoke?” 

And why he asks, Logan isn’t sure—he’s never asked before. Then again, he’s never had to ask, because it’s a standing policy to not smoke on a gig. Tonight, though, he needs something to do with his hands, to calm the magma rushing through his blood, the cold sweat bubbling up on the back of his neck. Staining his white fucking shirt. Even a blush from the grave and exhausted, slowly dying away from whatever is inside of him, he isn’t an idle man. If he doesn’t do something, he won’t be able to help himself—he can barely fight back the urge to not lose whatever sanity’s buried alive and get himself off, right here and now.  

Anything to masquerade the scent of whatever’s slick between her legs. You are a sick, perverted fuck, Logan. True, probably. But it’s been years, a lot of years. And he hasn’t wanted a lot of women, hasn’t clocked many that he’d actually enjoy rousting up a fantasy over. And she smells like a good time, something he may not actually regret. That would be a first. 

Tucking a little tighter against the door, her eyes close as she gently shakes her head. Curls flick around her features as she does, and she cracks her window before reaching forward to slip off both shoes. Logan had noticed them—yellow, bright highlighter yellow so jovial they may as well have smacked him upside his head. So out of place, but they were sexy as hell—he’d always appreciated a well dressed woman, and as impractical as they were, high heels did add a punch of something that made him a little hard in the dick. 

“I do, but go ahead,” it’s a little sigh, one he’s all but five-star VIP familiar. “One of us should enjoy ourselves, anyway.” 

In zero to none he flicks the lighter to life, burns the edge of the cigar until it’s hot. Thick, it rides his throat perfectly—chases that gut-twisting urge that’s coiled around the base of his spine like a viper. Through his blood it goes, ramping up the rust and poison and years that kill, and he heaves a sigh—falls back a little rougher against the seat. That ache in his cock twitches, but she retreats. 

His eyes fall closed, heart settling down behind his bones. “You wouldn’t happen to sell those little bottles of booze in this rig, would you?” Makes him start a little, and Logan blinks. A little surprised, he angles to look over his shoulder at her, arm lifting to drape over the bench seat. Brow raised, she elaborates, obviously reading his expression. “You know, the luxury part of ‘luxury accomodations’?” 

“Not a part of the deal, honey.” 

“Ah, you don’t like money, then,” the corner of her mouth ticks up with a smirk when he shifts a little more in his seat to study her. He catches what she lays down, without thinking. “And I ain’t anyone’s ‘honey’, so don’t be an ass and assume. Please.” Blinking, Logan can’t remember the last time he felt his stomach actually lift with amusement—the little way she says her ‘o’s’ is dangerous, suggests the north–either Canada. Minnesota, Wisconsin. North Dakota maybe? Anywhere but this far on the border, the edge of the world. Interesting.

Fucking Calliban. Knew he’d regret the hard copy that albino had suggested, but, it was too little too late. Surprised, he manages a little growl of complaint before he leans forward, hand fumbling against the floorboard carpet of the passenger’s side. Knuckles nudge the bottle of Jack Daniels, and he grabs the neck of it before allowing it to dangle between his fingers. Amber liquid dances like a tornado through the bottle, sloshing against the glass like a dream. 

Unstopping it, he pulls back a sharp drink of it. “Have at it,” it’s rough, raw. Irritation peeks through the teeth of it, but it’s more resigned than anything. 

Leaning forward, her eyes hold his and she hesitates to snatch the bottle away, hand hanging in the air. She’s got lithe fingers, bigger hands—hands that look strong. His attention cocks slightly when he notices the callouses, the scars on her knuckles. They aren’t polished, nine-to-five office hands like ninety percent of the girls who pass through his service. Briefly he wonders what her fake nails would feel like curled against skin, but dismisses it when she plucks the bottle from between his fingers. 

“Thanks,” her chuckle comes from her gut, almost a growl of relief that says finally! as she puts the cool class to her lips. Guzzles back a full shot. Rights, her cherry lips part into a small smile as she hands the bottle back, passing her thumb over left behind lipstick. “Good God that burns,” managing a little cough, Logan replaces the stop and pops it between his thighs. “But it’s good. Takes the edge off.” 

I bet it does. He manages a growling mhm, settling back into his seat. Thinking that’s the last of it. Content to look out the window and smoke his cigar, not think about the heat ricocheting off the adamantium in his pelvis. How it stirs up his blood, how her voice is that perfect lilt of low and just high enough. 

Head swimming with the mental picture of her beneath him, breathless and hot, he bristles to attention when her arms drape over the front seat. Very suddenly all Logan can smell is the heady smell of woman and sweat rolling off of her like a locomotive. 

She mutters under her breath something Logan can’t quite track, bit the way she picks at a nail with her teeth, gaze anywhere but inside the low limo’s lighting, would imply negatives. And she could’ve started reciting the phone book, he wouldn’t have noticed—far too busy noticing cleavage and the valley of her collarbones to be able to think straight. 

But his stare gets heavy, she notices the thick air that’s smothering the limo like a wet dream–her eyes find his, a little smile at the corner of her mouth when his flick away. Oh, good fuck. Her eyes bore into him through the rearview. Uncapping the Jack, he takes another sharp pull of it. It chases the warmth in the back of his throat, blooming in his chest like he didn’t know what. 

More pregnant silence. She shifts against the leather, hot skin sticky against it. Reaching to put the car in accessory, Logan fiddles with the A/C. He clocks her swiping her heels from the floor, wrangling them back on her feet—hadn’t she just taken the damn things off? 

“I should go get them before either of them do something they’ll regret,” her eyes cast to the clock on the dash, which isn’t terribly far from his ID information, which is offensively just there. “It’s late.” It isn’t, not really. Logan thinks this has to be the most conservative hen party in the history of such things, but his jaw clamps shut. 

If he can bail them out of his car early, he may be able to catch a few hours of sleep before the early-hour rush. That hour when last call sends boozers into the streets, looking for rides. That’s where the money was, after all—and God knew he could use the dough. 

Her hand floating over the handle of the door, as if she’s waiting for his consent. “Paid by the hour, darlin’,” and Logan does not miss the way darlin’ hits her—sharp eyes flick down to his mouth for a fraction of a heartbeat, a little plume of color lifting to the apples of her cheeks that definitely isn’t rouge. Blush, they called it now. She has plenty of it on her face, but it darkens something pretty in a way that, usually, would amuse him. 

Instead, now, he just lifts a hand to slot through the openings on the Chrsyler’s steering wheel, ignoring the ache between his knuckles. 

He can’t have arthritis, can he? Popping the latch, he twists out of the limo. Crosses around the front through the headlights to her side. A flick of his fingers and he pulls open the door, highlighter yellow heels spilling out to the pavement in that Hollywood way. 

He doesn’t do this— he makes a habit not to touch customers. Usually his hand finds his pocket, as a rule. But for some reason, her eyes skating through the dark, panning around the street and the front of the club, lights the mesh of his lungs on fire. Offering her his hand, its appearance before her drops a rod through her spine—she straightens, blinking at it once before her fluttery lashes look up at him. 

He wonders if the little flick of muscle in her jaw actually takes muscle memory. Looking at him with a look that’s uncertain, that’s you sure? heartbeats pass and make the moment uncomfortable. Shuffling his weight on his feet, his hand falls from the door and to his pocket, palming the lighter against his thigh. Phlegm and whatever else God created in the human body rattles around the poison in his chest, a low cough echoing off his bones. 

It takes her a second to collect, looking between him and his hand. “By the hour. Right,” her eyes skate down his chest, over all of him, as if she’s making sure. Her hand slips into his too lightly to matter, as if she’s making an effort to limit contact—and that’s a good thing, because Logan is fairly sure the world had stopped spinning, the electrical pulses of his body kicking to overdrive at just how alive her skin feels. Senses heightened to infinity. He could count stars, maybe, with the way her nails deliciously press into his palm, rough and hard. Warm, the scent of peaches all but punches his lights out—he can’t even taste his cigar, body enamored with the way she smells, how her hand all but boils in his. 

The fuck, Logan. 

Stepping out, sharp eyes navigate the front of the club, and a blackhole of the universe suddenly opens between them when her hand falls away. Heels tick against the concrete as she turns to face him batting the door closed. Hands in pockets, he kicks back against the Chrysler. Waiting. 

“Thanks,” her smile is small, eyes casting down to the filth of midnight on the concrete, “It shouldn’t be long.” 

He shrugs, “‘S your money, honey,” is followed by a grunt as she nods, turns on her heel. Sashays back into the front of the club before flashing a wristband to the bouncer. Between the help eyeballing her in that dress and Logan unable to stop ogling just how it clings, highlights every curve of her, it’s a miracle either of them are still standing. 

Reappearing fifteen minutes later with girlfriends in tow, Logan folds them into the limo politely, without incident. Giggling, traces of the night have painted both of her companions—long gone is the bride sash and dimestore plastic tiara. Replaced by smudged-and-attempted-to-be-fixed makeup. Teased hair, ruffled clothes. Nobody could miss that hickey for anything, it would take stock-market shattering amounts of base to cover it up—Mars would have a better time trying to see needles in haystacks. No amount of cigar smoke clinging to his clothes, sweat hanging out as an idea under his nose could cut through that unmistakably sweet musk of sex, sweat. 

Before Logan can ask where to point the Chrysler, the other girl pops off an address from her phone to what is most definitely not their hotel, or anywhere remotely in the neighborhood of partylife. Brow raised, Logan peeks the rearview to see his companion whirl so quickly in her seat, he wonders how her head is still attached. Look on her face says everything words don’t, but she asks anyway—”Where the hell is that?” 

Trying not to overhear, but it’s impossible, he fiddles with the temperature controls again when the one lifts the hair from the back of her neck. “It’s a hotel,” no shit, it’s the most expensive district in the area. Highbrows stay here—he’d picked them up on the opposite side of the metro, in the middle class accommodations. Sour bile splashes up the back of his throat, jaw setting–he knows what’s about to happen. 

“No, really? And here I thought it was the frickin’ monastery,” lunging over her friend stuck in the middle, she plucks the phone from her friend’s hand—laughing hysterically, face flushed with alcohol and tipsy giggles, her jaw opens fully on its hinge. Rapt attention almost has his heart exploding, he nearly misses the stop sign—pops the brake a little hard. 

She studies herself against the door, eyes flicking to him for half a second. Phone flipping screen first to her friend, she nods to it. “Who the hell is Mike?” Lowering the phone to her lap, her eyes skate between the two friends, hard. Heavy. Fast. “Oh my god. Don’t tell me—” 

“It’s just a fling,” her name rolls off her friend’s tongue sourly, like cold venom. If Logan weren’t so invested in the outcome of this conversation he’d think it was almost melodic, a unique name. Fine and perfect for the sweet little thing currently erupting in his backseat. Too busy pacing traffic, his tongue skates along over his back molars, “don’t get your panties in a twist, honey. It’ll just for a few hours, to have some fun.” 

“A few hours?” The actual squeak in her tone was laughable, “You’re joking—you’re actually kidding me. You can’t just go fuck some random guy you met in a bar, you’re getting married.” Offensive hangs in the words like a hot iron, branding itself into the atmosphere with weighty judgment enough to make her chest rise and fall with rapid, uneven breaths. “I won’t let you—”

Eyeroll extreme, Logan could’ve flinched with how much it snaps like a whip. “Oh my god, would you just chill out?” Looking to the other friend, who’s phone is still held captive on her lap, Logan bites the inside of his cheek. Like black cobras their chests fan out, both of them turning to cast frigid judgment to their third, who is pressed against the door to create distance from the very idea of the two of them. For fuck’s sake, “It’s just oral, honey—” 

He snorted. All their eyes trip to him, but Logan is nothing if not suave—covering with a cough, he bites back a smile into his lower lip, looking down to his lap. Holy shit, they were actually having this conversation. In the back of his limo. If he weren’t so amused, it could be hot. Smokin’. 

But the look on his companion’s face is too horrified, too innocent for him to take any enjoyment out of the topic of conversation flitting beneath the lights of the limo. It’s scandalousm, really. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, but, it just—it didn’t fit. Without knowing anything about much, he knows this isn’t her. Neon Heels, brunette curls. Lipstick barely upset, smelling like peaches of sweat. He could feel it in the very adamantium slowly flogging life out of his body. 

Color drains out of her face, milkwhite like a ghost. He’s fairly certain she’d rather cut out her tongue and serve it to him on a silver platter than actually go through with such things. Logan knows a thing or two about life, he’s studied humanity for a lot of fucking years—he knew the good ones when he saw them. Pure, untouched. 

Or, at the very least, good. 

“Just oral?” 

“Would you just stop, ok? Nobody is asking you to come up. Don’t need to be all, all pissy just because nobody noticed you at the bar,” and it’s hot, like acid. Cutting to bone. Logan watches the words cut like knives through the mesh of her chest, and if his collar wasn’t absolutely on fire, he’d have the audacity to smack some decency into whatever the fuck this chick’s problem was. “It’s not your thing. That’s fine. It’ll be just fine,” leaning forward, the bride informs him that once he’d dropped them at the hotel, he can take her back to their hotel. We’ll just Uber back in the morning. 

“Fine by me.” 

And it makes more sense, the longer he thinks about it. Explained the tears, the fluster in the atmosphere. Pushing the Chrysler through traffic, the tension in the atmosphere snaps like a rubber band—she doesn’t even flinch. In fact, her jaw clenches. Muscles ticks off bone, and she hands back her friend’s phone before falling back into the seat, eyes cast out the window like they’ve been welded to the darkness. Wind out of her sails, her elbow props on the windows ledge, subconsciously her hand covers half of her face. Quiet as death, unmoving as a sarcophagus. 

Logan had never seen someone’s soul die while they were still alive, but he figures this was close. 

Silence enough to make the dead uncomfortable follows for a few seconds. He focuses his attention on driving the limo rather than looking in the rearview, because noticing the look on her face, actually caring, is so far out of his pay grade that it’s laughable. To her credit, he doesn’t think she’s actually crying—hell would sooner freeze over, he reckons—but her brow is set in such a hard line, that he can almost read the regret on her face in red letter clarity. 

Ensuing conversation about how the bride’s tits look in her hardly-there dress has him almost disinterested. Guiding the Chrysler up to the curb of the hotel, he almost misses "Hey driver!" that's more giggle than it is anything else. Eyes tracking to the rearview, Logan isn’t nearly as surprised as he thought he would be when she rips down the front of what was once, probably, an investment dress—tits, yeah. Nice ones, too—bought and paid for by the looks of it. Tits that size don’t just sit up at attention without a calculated surgeon’s hand. 

“Like what you see?” 

Puffing out a little nervous chuckle, his brow trips up. He shakes his head, amused. Erupting into a fit of snickers and snorts, their cheeks darken with heat. Falling against themselves, the two of them think they’re fucking hilarious as they begin to discuss the course of their adventure. May as well be full fledged pornography in the back of his rig, the things that fly—it sparks up his blood, empties his mouth of any moisture Jack Daniels may have rousted. 

God couldn’t have brought up the hotel’s curb any faster, he thinks. Dropping the Chrysler into park, he angles to pop the latch on his door. Misses completely the moan of leather, the little rock of moving bodies shifting around the backseat. 

Logan all but jumps when two hands come around him from behind. “Maybe you should come upstairs, driver—bet you could show a young bride a thing or two, huh?” Fuck, fuck fuck—hands that palm down his chest, snake under the buttons of his white shirt are hot. Hot, practiced. Soft and deliberate, one of their nails flick against his nipple, beneath his undershirt—he grunts back a sharp breath, head all but braced against the Chrysler’s hard headrest. 

Adamantium kisses the flesh of his knuckles, and it takes effort not to let loose—more brainpower than he wants to admit, fighting back the reflex. Hand shaking on his knee, he inhales an uneasy breath and presses the heel of either hands onto his knees, biting the corner of his chapped lip. Hand drifting lower, almost to his abs, he snatches her wrist with a speed he doesn’t remember. Couldn’t, hadn’t, for as long as he can think back. 

“Somethin’ tells me you know plen’y, honey,” his eyes narrow in the rearview. “Plus, I don’t do free fucks.” 

She chuckles, pleased. “Who said anything about free?” Lifting her hand away from inside his shirt, he throws her off—cackling like the little witch she is, she folds out of the limo with her friend, “Very professional of you, driver,” he couldn’t miss the darkness in her tone if he’d tried as she winks at him from his window, “drive safe. Precious cargo, back there.” 

Could’ve fooled him. 

A wiggle of her fingers goodbye to her friend in the backseat, the hotel’s thick doors swallow both of them whole. Vanishing in a twirl of hair and makeup, Logan turns in his seat to consider his last passenger. She hasn’t moved, merely has kicked off her heels—but she has allowed herself to cry. Fresh tears fall down the length of her cheeks, but she doesn’t sniffle. They’re silent, powerful. Say everything words don’t need to—it’s a deep knife, one that bleeds. Logan can see the film reel running through her brain, on repeat. As if it has subtitles. A black and white horror show of just exactly what had happened, how she’d ended up here. 

Curling a leg up under herself, Logan watches her shrink into as small of herself as she can, forehead resting against the cool glass of the limo’s window. And it’s tragic, really—someone who looks like that, reduced to a teary, smoldering shell of a person by mere words. Logan knew people were cruel, he’d seen the worst of humanity up close and personal. His own life was hell trapped in bones and flesh, his own history more horrific than anything Hollywood could dream up. 

He drives. That’s what he does, that’s who Logan is now. A driver.  

It’s another 20 minutes across town. And the ride is ominous, a mummified tomb that’s suffocating no matter how much air whisks into the limo from open windows. Trapped between wanting to say something and unsure of how to react, he relaxes a little when she finally slips earphones in—mindlessly scrolling a cell phone. Swiping at tears that ruin makeup she no longer cares about. Alone in her own little world of music and heartache, he watches the night fall away from her—her hair goes back into clips, away from her face. Earrings come off. Out come the contacts, replaced instead with glasses from the purse she’d left on the floorboards. Gum, more scrolling on her phone. Heels set on the seat beside her–finally her eyes close as she rests against the cool glass. 

Gently rolling the Chrysler to a stop at the curb, she sits up. Breathlessly, she stretches a little, lashes fluttering behind frames that accentuate the shape of her face. And Logan doesn’t remember thinking anyone has ever looked good in glasses, but she topples such ideology when she beats him to the punch—she pops the latch on the door and steps out, barefoot. Heels tucked under her arm, purse hanging off her shoulder, she meets him at his door when he slips out of the front seat. 

Handling cash had never felt so cold, bitter. She doesn’t look at him as she counts it into his hand, more than they’d agreed. Slipping the remainder of it back into her bag, she steps back, smiling at him softly. Resigned. Apologetic. Light from the overhang of the hotel sets off whatever shine is on her face, tear stains all but left behind—replaced instead with pink cheeks and sad, swollen eyes. 

“Should be square,” she nods to the cash in his hand, “you can count it again if you want, I won’t be offended.” Briefly Logan thinks to care if her friends had managed their parts of the fare, but he dismisses it when she bites the inside of her cheek, tongue skating over her bottom lips as she shifts awkwardly on her feet. “Thank you so much for tonight—you have a beautiful limousine. The whiskey was great, thank you.” 

Nodding once, he shrugs a shoulder. She’s buying time in that awkward little way people do when they’re not sure what to say, but think they have to say something. She doesn’t, wouldn’t ever—but he wants her to, strangely. Logan could stand here and listen to her come up with things to say the rest of the night, if he knew it wouldn’t deepen the color on her face, drive a little deeper the knife that’s still gutting her in the ribs. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, her eyes track up to his from her feet standing on the warm concrete. “Listen, Logan—” she remembered his name, “I’m sorry about my friend. She’s really wasted, and it totally wasn’t alright for her to proposition you like that. It was actually gross—but that’s not who she is, not really. I’m sorry. She’s just—” 

“—didn’t even notice her, honey.” He lies. What else is there to do but lie to this pretty little thing, bloodletting her own pride out at his feet? For a long set of years, Logan has believed there’s very little good left in the human species—very few people who are worth giving two fucks about. But she’s so galiant, defending some slut’s non-existent honor, drowning in her own humiliation and everything he can only imagine happened during a hen party gone sideways. 

“Oh, uh, well—” oh. How she says it, the little curve of her mouth. That accented “o”. It’s enough to make him insane, honestly. He’s been with her two hours and can hardly think past the twitch of his cock, the little ache that niggles in the back of his head. Behind his eyes. It gets a little hard to fight, the snapping air between the two of them—for a man who knows what it feels like, it’s difficult. She couldn’t be more nonplussed. Which says more than it needs too, makes it all the more sweet. “Sorry, oh my gosh. I’m just a little—I don’t do things like this.”

And that is honorable, even if there’s very little honor left among the thieves of humanity. She is honorable. So saccharine and pretty it physically hurts him, drying out the back of his throat and knocking at his ribs like a damn jackhammer. Her eyes holding his, searching for anything else, are so deep and alive, bright in the way only Polaris could ever challenge—he suddenly forgets where he is, what century it is. How he got here, what he’s doing, reaching for the thin strap of her dress. 

The back of his knuckle gently skips over her skin, the strap of the dress. And before Logan can even manage a breath, his hand moves under her chin, tips it up a little. Unmoving, her eyes widen like two bright moons, light catching them and opening them up like oceans fully unpassable to the known universe. From here he can feel her pulse flying through her blood, and couldn't miss the butterflies in her stomach if he’d been on a different planet. And maybe she’s never been appreciated like this—maybe she’s never felt seen. 

Fuck, the things he could do to her. “Quit apologizin’ for bein’ sweet,” he manages a low rasp, the corner of his mouth ticking up with a little grin, “very few pretty things left in the world that’re sweet,” tipping her chin up a little further, his lips hover over hers. “And I bet you taste as good as you look, honey.” Tucking some hair behind her ear, he rubs one of her curls between the calluses on his fingers. 

He gets back in his car, and Logan drives. Because that's what he does—he drives. 

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00 @th3mrskory @blossoming-hotch

[jeneveuxrein]

best behavior (BLACKPINK Jennie)

word count: 11.2K

(this one was fun, lol)

You have a problem. 

To some, it wouldn’t be considered a problem. Maybe more of a hassle, or an annoyance at the very least.

To you, however, this is nuclear. Talking a DEFCON level one type of situation. 

It could’ve been easily avoided. 

Almost stupidly avoided if you hadn’t been such a pushover.

You were at dinner with Rosie and Lisa two weeks ago. They invited you to join them and a couple of your other friends on a small camping trip over the coming long weekend. You considered it, but when they told you exactly who was going, the decision was easy. 

“What do you mean you’re not going?” Rosie asked after hearing your answer. 

“Chaeng,” You dropped your fork, reaching for your wine glass, suddenly wanting something stronger. “If she’s going, you know I can’t.”

“It’s been years, oppa. She doesn’t mind,” Lisa said, nodding reassuringly. 

“We literally just got to a place where we can be in the same room and not argue,” You reasoned, finishing your drink in one gulp. 

“Which is why spending a few nights with her won’t be that hard,” Rosie smiles, adding, “She already knows you’re going, and she didn’t have much to say except for cool. So I think you’ll be okay. Plus, Jisoo and my sister will be there. You won’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want to.” 

Rosie had a solid argument. It slightly irritated you that she said you were going before you were even invited. You reluctantly said yes, excited to get away from the constraints of the city with the hopes you wouldn’t have to say anything more than hello to her. 

Her being Kim Jennie, your ex-girlfriend. 

The one who got away. The one who you royally fucked things up with. Any and all cliches fit your disaster of a relationship. 

You were young at the time. And stupid. 

So very stupid. 

You knew the moment Jisoo introduced Jennie to you at a party that she’d be the one you were going to marry. 

It took groveling and nearly losing your dignity for Jennie to finally say yes after months of asking her out, that you’d do absolutely anything to make sure she knew you only had eyes for her. 

But again, you were stupid. 

Before Jennie, you had a bit of a history with women. Player seemed to fit, though you thought of it more as indulgence to spend your nights with a beautiful woman. You developed a reputation that all your friends knew of your unwillingness to commit. 

Everyone was surprised at Jennie when she said yes. The girls, mainly Nayeon and Jihyo, were vocal about their opinions on your relationship, but Jennie didn’t care. She brushed them off, saying that she trusted you anyway. 

Something you stupidly broke. 

It was even more stupid whenever you thought about it, which was more than you’d like to admit. 

You were at a party, celebrating Rosie’s promotion, when you received a message from Jennie that she wouldn’t be able to make it. Something had come up at work, and she wasn’t able to leave. You didn’t bother responding, ticked off again that work had become the priority. 

You’d been dating for over a year at that point, and there was a small shift in your relationship. It was subtle, but enough for you to notice. It had been a small point of contention at first, then slowly built-up resentment turned into a huge argument about not spending time together anymore.

Because for Jennie, her climbing the corporate ladder was number one. You were considered second—one-point five as she would say. You’d throw it in her face, but she was adamant it was only temporary.

You really should’ve checked your messages again before you and Chaewon drunkenly stumbled into your apartment. If you did, then you would’ve known Jennie was waiting for you.

You froze as soon as you saw your girlfriend sitting on your couch, wearing a black silk robe with the slightest hint of lace peeking at the top. The guilt immediately washed over you as soon as you heard Chaewon sigh, a quiet stupid falling from her lips before she walked out. The only reason why she came home with you was because of the picture you painted of a broken heart, something that was a blatant lie, but soon became an obvious truth. 

You tried to explain, words forming sentences that had no merit, no weight that could get Jennie to believe you. She remained silent the whole time, that her last words to you before she left was I trusted you and that was that. 

You technically—if you wanted to be a real asshole—didn’t cheat. Nothing happened between you and Chaewon, but it was obvious that if Jennie didn’t show up, something would’ve happened. The intention was there, but you were stupid because you were young, immature, selfish and you couldn’t be patient. She never gave you any doubt that she didn’t want to be with you, but you were just stupid.  

You still had to see her after that. You couldn’t avoid it. You had the same friends, and it didn’t help that you were close to Jisoo, Rosie, and Lisa—Jennie’s best friends. 

In the beginning, you apologized every time you saw her, pleading—borderline begging—for her to give you one more chance. She would walk away, but you’d reach out to pull her back. Your face would be sore and red every single time. 

It got to the point where you were just as petty as she was. You mocked her every time she spoke, making faces and scoffing at any word that came from her mouth. She would curse you out and you’d just smile, eliciting an even greater reaction that Lisa had to physically restrain her away before she bruised your face. 

You didn’t get a pass. Jisoo kicked you square in the gonads once she found out what happened. Rosie threatened to sue you for whatever reason she could find. Lisa just shook her head, disappointed that you did what you swore you wouldn’t.

Lisa’s reaction hurt the most, reminding you of the effort you put to be with Jennie, and that was something you couldn’t forgive yourself for, the regret weighing on your shoulders every time you were in the same room with her. 

A feeble attempt to try to move on was made, but it wasn’t fair to the women who genuinely showed interest in you to be paraded in front of Jennie as a means to make her jealous. 

Whether it worked or not, you didn’t know. What you did know was that almost a year after you broke up, Jennie introduced everyone to her boyfriend—Taehyung. 

And intentional or not, you were jealous. 

You wanted to deck him square in the jaw for some comment he made during a conversation about cheating, but Lisa was there to pull you outside, reminding you that you had every intention of cheating on Jennie because of what your relationship was at that point. 

“She’s trying, oppa. She loved you too, but it wasn’t enough for you to wait,” Lisa lit up a cigarette after watching you kick a few chairs over. 

That stuck with you, forcing you to mellow out whenever Jennie was there. You started to politely greet her, which she met with a cool indifference, unfazed by your change in attitude.

It became cordial at the very least. The walls were up and you didn’t have it in you to break them down. You helped build them up after all.   

So the problem you’re currently experiencing could’ve just been avoided if you were firm in your no. 

“Why do you look stressed out?” Rosie asks as your jaw clenches, a headache forming in between your eyebrows. 

“Count how many tents we have,” You grit out, staring at the reserved camp site. 

“One… Two… Three… What’s wrong… Oh,” Rosie’s voice falls flat when she realizes what the problem was. “Shit, let me go talk to Alice.” 

You sigh when Rosie drops the wood she was holding on the ground, hurrying over to where Alice is. You quickly hear the siblings start to argue, causing you to sigh again because the only option that you think of is if you leave and come back to pick them up. 

“Why are they arguing?” Jennie asks out of nowhere, that you drop the wood you just picked up. 

“Jesus, when the hell did you get there?” You shake your head, doing everything you can to regulate your heartbeat. 

“I just got here,” Jennie shrugs as if she didn’t scare you. “So what’s going on?” 

“There’s only three tents,” You awkwardly answer, bracing yourself for her to yell at you for forgetting to bring the tent. 

The sleeping arrangements were decided on the hike to the campsite. The Park siblings would share a tent, Lisa and Jisoo would bunk together, while you and Jennie had your own tents. When you finished putting together the third tent and went to look for the fourth, it could not be found.

“I can just sleep by the fire,” You offer, already thinking of how you’ll get sick and how your assistant will hate you for missing work. 

“It’s fine,” Jennie waves you off, placing the water jugs at her feet. “We can share.” 

“Wh-what?” You stutter out, eyes widening. “We don’t need to do that.” 

“Stop being difficult,” Jennie rolls her eyes. “We can be adult about things, and it would make me feel bad if you got sick.” 

You open and close your mouth, but no words come out. You’re rendered speechless. Jennie hasn’t said anything remotely nice to you in over three years. The fact that she’s offering to share the tent with you speaks volumes. 

“Careful,” You say with the slightest hint of teasing, “It’s like you almost care about me or something.” 

The muttered shut up you hear has you absolutely grinning. It goes away the second she ‘accidentally’ kicks your shin as she steps over to the log. 

--

“Watch out, Jendeuks,” Jisoo slurs out, the effects of the soju catching up to her. It’s catching up to all of you at this point. “Oppa doesn’t behave around drunk girls, especially if he’s drunk himself.” 

“Jisoo,” You roll your eyes, watching the women around you laugh at your expense. 

“What?” Jisoo’s eyes narrow in your direction. “I don’t need to wake up tomorrow morning with the mandu upset for you trying something with her.” 

“I’m not even going to do anything!” You raise your arms up in defense, shaking your head. 

The girls, Alice included, had a field day when Jennie told them you’d be sharing the tent with her. They relentlessly teased you, almost to the point of where you’d rather get sick and end up in the hospital than having to share the next few nights with Jennie. 

“Ah,” Lisa clicks her tongue, waving a finger at you, “We’d have to watch out for Jennie instead, since Taehyung broke things off with her.” 

What?

“Lisa,” Jennie grits out, eyes glaring at the youngest member. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“What? Who cares, he sucked anyways,” Lisa honestly answers. “He was so insecure over op–”

Jennie’s hands are over Lisa’s mouth before she could finish that sentence. It piques your interest since it sounded like their breakup had something to do with you, but you couldn’t understand how you were involved. 

“On that note,” You watch Jennie and Lisa wrestle, “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s probably best if we all call it a night,” Alice stands, nodding in agreement that it was time for sleep.

“Jen,” You say, out of habit more than anything, that it has the two women stopping to look at you. When you realize your slip up, you awkwardly scratch your head, “Err, uh, you can change in the tent first, I’m just going to head to the bathroom. Leave it unzipped when you’re done, please.” 

You don’t bother waiting for her to respond, knowing she’ll do it anyways. 

By the time you return, the tent’s unzipped. You slip your shoes off before awkwardly climbing into the tent. It’s big enough for three people, but comfortably with two people and all their belongings. Your sleeping bags are on opposite sides of the tent, which the set-up isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. 

“Hey,” You greet her quietly, unzipping your sleeping bag to add another layer of warmth since the temperature suddenly dropped as soon as the sun set. 

“Hi, do you need to change?” Jennie asks politely, head tilting towards the tent entrance. 

You shake your head, deeming your sweats and hoodie were more than enough since you had an extra blanket. “I’m good.” 

“Okay, well,” Jennie shuts off the lamp once you’re tucked in, “Good night.” 

“Good night,” You murmur, listening to the fabric rustle as she settles into her sleeping bag. 

Once it goes completely silent, except for the not-so-hushed conversation between Jisoo and Lisa from the other tent, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your eyes slowly close before sleep takes you, the tiredness from the day knocking you out.

--

You hear your name being called out, forcing you out of your slumber. It couldn’t be that early based on the small amount of light casted on the tent.

You look around before hearing your name again and realize Jennie’s the one saying it. 

“Jennie?” You whisper out, sitting up to Jennie’s sleeping bag much closer to yours than where it was before you fell asleep. 

What happens next has you sinking back into your sleeping bag when Jennie moans, a sound you’re all-too familiar with. 

Fuck is all that crosses your mind. You’re completely fucked and if there was some higher being out there, you would pray to them every day on your knees to get you out of this situation. It’s probably retribution for all the wrongs you’ve ever done in your life, and to hear your ex-girlfriend moan your name while she’s asleep is the worst kind of fate. 

You never thought you’d hear her like that ever again, but it reminds you of all the times she did. 

You wouldn’t exactly say you had a high sex drive because you are human, but when it came to sex and threw Jennie in the mix, it was hard for you to control yourself. Your relationship was physical, as expected from any healthy relationship, but there was something that could never compare to the other women you’ve known so intimately. 

When she told you she loved you, you made sure you showed her exactly how much you loved her right back.

You were into kinks and the like, but the word daddy out of her mouth had you fucking her like your life depended on it. 

Sometimes it did. She would always want more, losing herself around you that had you lost with her, but you’d find each other in the end. 

So yeah, the universe or higher being or whoever the fuck has it out for you. 

“Daddy,” Jennie moans out, louder than she probably intended that you had to get the fuck out of the tent and jump off a cliff and into the lake. 

“Fuck,” Your body’s conditioned to have a visceral response, that it starts to react to her mumblings. You feel hot as the blood rushes south, awakening your cock as her breaths get breathier. 

You nearly stumble out of the tent, the cool air hitting your lungs as you get your footing. You ignore the pit in your stomach, brushing away all thoughts of Jennie like that. You fucked up any chance to be with her the moment you showed up to your apartment with another woman. 

You let out a quiet groan before deciding that you might as well prepare breakfast. 

--

You avoid Jennie for most of the day. 

You couldn’t look her in the eye once she woke up after hearing her and whatever dream she had of you. It almost felt too personal to witness that, especially without her knowing.

It wasn’t easy though with Rosie and Lisa doing everything in their power to make sure you were paired off together. The thought of them scheming to get you back together crossed your mind, mainly because they both knew how you felt and if the chance ever arose, you’d do anything to be with Jennie again. It was a fleeting thought because hell would have to freeze over.

You could have been imagining things, but Jennie seemed to avoid you as well. She wouldn’t make eye contact with you when you spoke. She would give little to no response when you were part of a conversation. 

The day just started off weird, yet you still have this get-together with the people from a neighboring campsite after meeting them on the hike. 

Lisa wraps an arm around your neck, “Anyone catch your attention?” She asks loudly as you follow the rest of the girls. 

“No,” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you shake her hold off you. 

“It’s okay if there is, you know,” Lisa says as she falls in step with you. “Just make sure you do whatever activities at their campsite. I’m pretty sure that’s where Jennie-unnie draws the line.”

“He could do whatever the fuck he wants,” Jennie comments from in front of you. 

“Such a masochist, unnie,” Rosie drawls out. “Hearing an ex fool around would kill me.”

You’re about to tell both of them to knock it off, but Jennie’s faster, “He’s not going to fool around with anyone, right?” She stops in her tracks, causing you to bump into her, hand reflexively reaching out to steady her so she wouldn’t fall.

“Controlling,” Jisoo mutters, but everyone hears her loud and clear. 

It puts you on the spot because on one hand, you have nothing stopping you from doing anything, while on the other hand, you’re trying your best to at least get to the point where you could be friends with Jennie. 

“Right,” You concede, surprising yourself and the women around you. You quickly drop your hand, giving Jennie a tight smile as she stares at you.

Best behavior you think to yourself once the group starts walking again. 

--

Best behavior, as you so called it, applied to you. It didn’t, however, apply to others. 

You could not control the behaviors of other people, no matter how much you try. 

It’s been ‘nice’ hanging out with the girls from the nearby campsite. You use ‘nice’ loosely because it’s been hell for you having to balance the woman on your lap and the woman across the fire glaring at you everytime you look up. 

As soon as you sat down, one of the girls—Ryujin—beelined for you, taking most of your attention away from everyone else. 

Ryujin’s pretty. You have eyes, and you’d think most people would agree. She seemed shy when you met her on the hike, but something was different by the time you arrived. You chalked it up to the few empty soju bottles you saw that they had already started drinking. She was a lot more forward, throwing your whole best behavior self-talk down the drain. 

How she ended up in your lap? You have no idea. You tried to politely push her off, but you didn’t want to cause a scene. 

“Wanna hang out in my tent?” Ryujin whispers, the faint scent of alcohol lingering in her breath.

The implication was there. 

If it was any other situation where your ex-girlfriend wasn’t there, you would.

But said ex-girlfriend is there. 

From the corner of your eye, Jennie stands, whispering something in Rosie’s ear that has her standing as well. 

“I’ll walk back with you,” Your ears perk up. 

“It’s really fine, Chaengie. I’m just tired from today,” Jennie forces a smile, but you sensed something else was off. 

“Are you sure?” Which Jennie nods before bidding farewell to the others. 

Jennie, however, doesn’t say anything to you and leaves before you could ask if she was okay. 

“So…what do you say?” Ryujin’s voice tears your gaze away from Jennie’s retreating figure. 

“I’m sorry, I should go with her,” You gently tap at her shoulder, which she begrudgingly stands. 

It catches the attention of the others, prompting Lisa to ask what you’re doing when you fold the blanket, handing it to Ryujin. 

“I’m going,” You shrug as if it’s no big deal. You don’t miss the way Lisa and Rosie’s head tilt. Jisoo rolls her eyes while Alice just drinks, oblivious.  

“What a gentleman,” Yuna comments, her friends nodding in agreement. 

You tell the girls that it was nice meeting them, that maybe you’ll see them in Seoul because Lisa will definitely want to see them again. Ryujin gives you a longer-than-necessary hug, which Jisoo snickers because your friends know the exact reason why you’re leaving so abruptly. 

--

Jennie walks fast. 

For someone who’s one of the smallest in the group, she gained some distance from the campsite before you finally caught up. 

“Jennie,” You call out a couple meters away. She stops, but doesn’t turn around. It gives you enough time to meet her.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like in Ryujin’s tent?” Her voice is cold, distant, detached even. It immediately takes you back to that night.

When you don’t respond, Jennie walks away. 

You won’t make the same mistake again and if it leaves you with a black eye, it is what it is.

You don’t let her get that far, reaching for her shoulder that she shrugs you off before turning around so fast that you almost lose your balance.

“Don’t touch me,” Jennie says sharply. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You ask. She’s starting to actually piss you off. You’re sure that if you weren’t a bottle of soju in, you wouldn’t get this upset. You’d rather blame it on the alcohol than unresolved feelings. 

Jennie scoffs, rolling her eyes, “My problem? You’re seriously asking me what my problem is?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” 

Her next move has your cheek stinging. 

“Jennie, what the fuck,” You rub your face. She’s slapped you before, but there was actual force behind that one.

“You’re my fucking problem. To this fucking day, you’re still my fucking problem,” Jennie suddenly invades your space, chest against yours as she looks up at you. 

“I’m not even doing anything,” You sigh, dejected and tired. If there’s one thing you don’t want to do right now is to argue with her.

“You are. Just being around you is so fucking hard,” Loose fists hit your chest three times before she collapses into you. “Do you not understand how hard it is to watch some girl throw herself at you and you fucking entertain it?”

Her confession catches you off guard because you always wondered what she thought when you were around girls. You gently place your hands on her waist, and her body freezes. 

“Jen,” You say quietly. 

“No, I can’t do this,” Jennie’s out of your hold, walking away. 

It takes you a minute because there’s a lot for you to process, but you act quickly, following after her. 

Thankfully the fire you lit still burns bright, and you see Jennie’s near the tent. 

You call her name out before she could unzip the tent. When she doesn’t face you, you jog toward her, refusing to let this go. 

“Can you just talk to me? You’re getting mad at me for doing something I can’t control,” You almost reach for her again, but experience has taught you to tread lightly. 

“What’s there to talk about? We’re not together so if you want to fuck Ryujin, be my guest,” Jennie says lowly. 

“Did you want me to?” Your temper flares, words cutting right through you. “Did you want to hear me fuck someone? Rosie was right, you are a masochist.”

Jennie turns suddenly, her arm winding back but you’re quicker this time, grabbing her arm. 

“Let fucking go of me,” Jennie struggles in your grasp, but you’ve always been stronger. 

“No,” You pull her body flush against yours before wrapping an arm around her waist, securing her tightly. Her head falls back, eyes narrowing. “You’re being a fucking brat.” 

“And what’re you going to do about it?” You watch her expression darken, a look you haven’t seen in years. 

“This,” You slam your lips on hers, swallowing the gasp she lets out once your teeth meet. 

You feel everything. 

The way her arms try to break free from your hold. 

The way her hips fold, but can’t go anywhere. 

The way her breath hits you as you move your mouth, granting you access before her body relaxes. 

The way she presses herself against you. 

“This good enough?” You murmur in between kisses, her arms snaking around your neck as she melts into the kiss. 

“I’ve had better,” Jennie taunts, slightly panting as you gently bite her lip. 

“Then you don’t need me,” You move your tongue in her mouth swiftly before pulling away. 

“Wait, what’re you doing? Come back,” Jennie stands on her tiptoes as she tries to bring you back. 

“You said you had better,” Raising an eyebrow as you loosen your grip, but Jennie’s arms are ironclad around you. “So…” You shrug. 

“No no,” Jennie shakes her head, biting her lip as she stares at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” 

“Off Jen,” You say simply and she complies, hands at her side has you stepping back. 

It’s a dynamic you’re familiar with. 

It’s toxic at the minimum. 

Degrading at its absolute worst. 

You and Jennie hardly argued. You could count on both hands the amount of blow ups you’ve had. It would get aggressive, but with what followed after, was so much better. It might not have been the healthiest way to deal with conflict, but you’d work through it—blissed out, hormones working in overdrive.

“Please,” Jennie says quietly. 

“Please what?” You cross your arms, gaze never breaking as you watch the internal war she’s having with herself. 

It’s a bit risky to do this right here, right now, but you’re hyper-aware of the effect she’s having on your body. If she responds the way you want her to, you’ll be sent into overdrive. 

“Please,” She shakes her head, eyes casting down. 

“Say it,” You gently cup her chin, tilting her head backwards as your lips ghost against hers, “Say it, princess.” 

Jennie lets out a moan, a breathy one at that before she says what you’ve missed so much. 

“Please, daddy.” 

“Good girl,” You kiss her sweetly this time, an almost tender kiss that has her sneaking a hand underneath your hoodie. “Ah, ah, did I say you could touch me?” 

Jennie’s head shakes, her lips never leaving only to say, “No.”

“If you want to get fucked, behave,” She immediately pulls her hand out from underneath, wrinkling your clothes as she waits in anticipation. You’re at the point of no return. 

She’s the only one that could bring this side out of you. 

“Yes sir,” Jennie says, voice shaking. 

Without a word, you let her go. You smirk at the whine she lets out. 

You unzip the tent and grab her hand, fingers interlaced before dragging her inside. You ask her to sit while you rearrange the sleeping bags. She offers to help, but you shake your head since it won’t take long. It helps that the sleeping bags are a matching set, allowing you to easily make one giant sleeping bag.

When you finish, it’s obvious that Jennie’s doubting this, the etch of concern on her face says it all. It forces you to switch into the side you’ve always been when it came to her because she was the most important, her comfort was your top priority—still is. 

“Jen,” You say softly, scooting over to her before stretching your legs around her. She looks up, and something scratches at your ribcage, “We don’t have to. Swear. We can forget this happened.”

Like you could. 

The thought of asking for a transfer abroad crosses your mind so you wouldn’t have to see her. 

“I couldn’t do that,” Her voice is quiet, the slight tremble you’d hear whenever she’d whisper her fears, on top of the pillow, head tucked under your chin. “It did happen. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“Jen-” She shakes her head. 

“I… Don’t laugh okay,” Jennie swings her legs around, crossing them as she takes your hands. “It’s just confusing right now. Yes, Tae broke up with me, but not for the reason you think. It’s actually stupid.” 

“Okay I won’t laugh, so shoot.”

Jennie starts playing with your fingers, tickling the skin that has your back shivering, as she tells you what happened. They were fooling around—you really didn’t want to hear that—and Tae asked her to call him daddy. She thought he was joking because she never got the impression he was into that. She described their sex life as vanilla, not that she minded. Her desires weren’t strong enough to make him do them, and she liked him enough to let that go.

The part that had your eyes open like saucers was when she said she wouldn’t. She opened her mouth to say it, but her voice got caught in her throat. She couldn’t say it, it felt wrong to. 

“Uh so what you’re saying is—”

“Shh,” Jennie pinches your palm, “I’m not finished.” 

Taehyung took offense when she shook her head. He stood, demanding why not. She really couldn’t think of a reason. She tried to play it off like she wasn’t into that, but he didn’t believe her. 

Then he brought you into the conversation. By his logic, you were the last boyfriend so it had to be because of you. You were also Jennie’s first serious relationship. 

She denied that because there was no reason as to why it would. They argued, going back and forth about why you were still in her life. It ended with him leaving her apartment, needing to cool off. 

There were a couple days in between before they spoke again. He had his clarity, realizing he overreacted and didn’t want to push her if that wasn’t something she was into. 

On her end, Jennie was confused. It struck something in her when he said that she never got over you. In the heat of the moment, she didn’t pay it any mind. As soon as he left, it came barreling back. 

She thought it was because he was jealous. He always sighed whenever she mentioned you’d be at the same events. He would be more affectionate whenever you were around. It didn’t cross her mind, but that was the only thing that made sense.

Then the idea of calling Taehyung, her current boyfriend, daddy has her stomach in knots. It didn’t feel right at the mental image of him and that word together. Her mind drifted to yours and she shot up from the bed when she she slipped her hand underneath her shorts. 

“So again, for my understanding, is that—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jennie rolls her eyes, slapping your thigh.

When you chuckle, she glares. 

“Sorry sorry, continue.” 

Jennie couldn’t believe it. She had no way to explain the visceral response her body had at the thought of you. She admitted that she actively pushed down any thoughts of you as soon as you broke up, adding that no other guy ever made her feel the way you did. 

(That comment went straight to your head, which she must have seen the way your face lit up because she punched your inner thigh.)

When it was Jennie’s turn to speak, what she originally wanted to say was not what actually came out. She wanted to break up. In that short time apart, her attraction for him dipped and she didn’t want to be with him anymore. She called it a change of heart and that the relationship ran its course. He wasn’t expecting that, pleading that he’ll be better, but she was firm in her decision. 

She took the break-up as it was. She expected to be sad, which she was. She explains she gave herself time to think and process what she actually felt. It didn’t help that she saw you frequently, confusing her feelings. She wanted you, but at the same time, she didn’t think she could trust you. 

“Then, you fucking wrap your coat around me one night after dinner and when I asked you what the hell you were doing, you just shrugged, saying I looked cold,” You remember that night. She was running late and forgot to bring a jacket. She cursed you out in front of everyone, but you didn’t care. You were used to that. You did, however, care if she was cold. “And it was obvious you still cared about me.” 

“Well yeah,” You say pointedly. “Nothing physical happened between Chaewon and me. Yeah she might’ve been all over me, but I never kissed her.”

“But you would’ve, right? If I wasn’t there,” Jennie lets go of your hands. 

“I don’t know, probably,” You shrug. That night still haunts you, and it’s not the most pleasant thing for you to think about. She gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything else.

“So yeah, that’s why we broke up,” Jennie’s hands fold onto her lap.

“All I’m getting is that you belong to me,” You smirk as she rolls her eyes. You act as if you completely missed the point of the story. You didn’t, but it went straight to your cock finding out Jennie touched herself because of you. 

“I’m not your fucking property,” Jennie deadpans. 

“I’m not saying you are. What I am saying, however,” You scoot closer to her, moving her hands out of the way before reaching for her hips, easily lifting her on top of you, “Is that your body wants me.” 

“Not true,” Jennie’s voice shakes when your lips ghost along her neck. 

“We don’t have to decide what this is right now. You know, deep down, I want to be together. I was–still am–serious about marrying you, that hasn’t changed,” You press your lips underneath her jaw, head tilting back to give you more access,  “I’m sure you won’t make it easy for me.”

“Who said we’re getting back together?” Jennie sighs as her hands rest on your neck, hair threading through her fingers. 

“Me,” You murmur, sucking slightly on her skin. “So let me start now, okay?” 

“Fine,” You smile against her skin, tongue soothing the mark you know everyone will tease her if they see it. She tugs you off, a pout forming on your face, “Slow?” 

“Whatever you want, princess,” You tease, sucking in a breath when her body rolls, hands gripping her waist a little tighter. “Your call tonight.”

Jennie stares at you for a moment, and you don’t waver, keeping her gaze to show you’re serious. 

“Mine?” 

“Yours.” 

A double entendre.

Jennie slips her hands underneath your sweater, pulling it off you, exposing your bare torso, before bringing you in for a heated kiss. Your body quickly reacts, cock stiff as she grounds her hips over you. You’re fighting for dominance as your tongues wrestle, swallowing all the airy pants and gasps falling from her mouth. 

“Fuck,” You moan as she bites hard on your bottom lip. “I thought you wanted slow.” 

“You talk too much,” Jennie gets out in between kisses. 

“I thought you liked it when I talk,” You detach your lips, trailing them along her jawline. Sweet kisses have her body shivering. 

“I preferred it when your mouth did other things,” Jennie breathes out, head falling back as you nip on her skin. 

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it,” You say lowly as you continue your onslaught all over her neck. She’ll probably have to wear your hoodie to cover all the love bites, and she’ll definitely yell at you in the morning. 

You do not care. 

“You know what I want.”

You do, but you won’t make it this easy for her. 

“Probably,” Your hands guide her movement,  applying delicious friction over your sweats. It garners you a deep moan as she grabs your shoulders to steady herself. “But you know I like hearing you princess.”

Jennie loudly moans after a particularly hard suck, fingers pulling on your hair as her hips circle over you. She mumbles something that you can’t quite hear, sneaking a hand underneath her hoodie. Her body shivers at your touch. 

“What’d you say?” Thumb rubbing gentle circles over her back. 

“Fuck me.”

“Be more specific,” You taunt, the warmth emanating in between your bodies, and you just know she’s fucking soaked. 

“You’re being a fucking tease,” Jennie groans once your lips meet her collarbone, “We don’t have that much time.” 

She has a point. You’re not sure when the others will return, but Alice will make everyone leave if they get too much. 

“You know I can’t just fuck you,” You murmur, burying your face into her neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Jennie whimpers, grinding herself over you, the ache in your cock has you groaning. “I can take you.”

“I have to stretch you out, princess.” Not that you’re bragging, but you know you’re well above the average. The amount of shock through the years said enough. 

Jennie shakes her head as her hips lift from her position. You whine, in an attempt to pull her back, but she stands, untying her sweats before it falls down her legs. 

Your mouth waters at the site of Jennie’s pussy right above you. The dim lighting of the tent lamp shines a slick dripping down her inner thighs. She’s absolutely gushing and it turns you on that it was all because of you. You quickly slip the waistband of your sweats down, freeing your cock. It slaps against your stomach, and you notice your tip weeping leaking. 

“You want my mouth, baby?” You stare up at her, uncaring as you lick your lips. You could almost taste her. Your hand encloses around your length, slowly stroking yourself as you imagine your face in between her legs. 

Jennie shakes her head once again, gently tilting your head back to give her a better view of you touching yourself, “Lay back.” 

You don’t hesitate. You follow her command, keeping a steady pace with your hand as you watch Jennie step over you, feet falling on the outsides of your legs. 

Jennie lowers herself, shutting the lights off and keeping her gaze on yours. You sharply inhale as the apex of her thighs get closer to your cock, increasing your movement that your forearm starts to burn. 

The moment her slick touches the tip of your cock, Jennie squeals, biting her lip to muffle the sound. You groan, dropping your hand as your length slides in between her lips. 

“Jen,” You pant, hands shooting to her hips to steady her, but it ends up dragging her wetness all over your cock. “I need to prep—”

“No, no,” Jennie’s eyes roll back as her hips rock over yours. “I can handle you. I’m so fucking wet for you. Let me, please daddy please.”

It’s like a switch went off as she moans, rolling her body in a wave as she rubs herself over you. 

“Princess,” The nickname has her mewling, hips stuttering as your cock hits her clit. “Tonight’s about you.” 

“I want your cock, daddy.” She falls forward, arms resting on your chest as her hair covers your face. She kisses your neck, heavy breaths, as her hips swirl. “It’s been so long. I need to be filled.” 

Her filthy words have you blindly thrusting up, brushing through her lower lips as she moans into your skin. 

“Good ahead, baby.” 

Jennie reaches her hand backwards, fingers delicately wrapping along your girth. You buck into her hand, groaning as she rubs it around her hole. Once she guides your tip into her entrance, her hips seductively roll down to take you in. 

You swear you see stars the moment her pussy wraps around the head, her walls squeezing you tightly. Her hands press hard into your chest, pushing her body upright as you watch her head fall back. When your eyes glance down, you groan at the sight of your cock in between her legs. 

“Daddy,” Jennie’s eyes open slowly, breaking your gaze to her eyes low, lust taking over as she lowers herself more. 

“Yes princess?” You suck in a breath as her slick drips down your cock.

“Tell me I’m good,” Jennie circles her hips, knees spreading slightly as her body adjusts to your size. “I’m being good right?” 

“Good girls take all of me,” You watch, hypnotized as she continues her movement, your length gradually disappearing more and more. Her body recoils before dropping even lower that your hands tightly grip her waist. 

“Daddy,” Her nails dig into your skin, hips shaking side to side. “Please, I’ll be good. Let me be good.” She trembles in your hold, walls accommodating your size. 

Your resolve’s slipping. Fast. 

With Jennie moaning and the sight of her struggling to take you in has your hands dropping. You mutter a fuck as the pressure around your cock increases tenfold, her body tensing as nails raking down your chest. The pain is short-lived as the warmth from her walls spurs you on, causing an involuntary thrust up as gravity pushes her down. 

“Holy shit, Jen.” Your eyes snap to see your length gone, fully sheathed inside her as her pussy tightens. 

Jennie freezes, hands gripping your sides, before letting out a filthy moan. 

“Daddy, am I being good?” She leans back, her hands on your knees before slowly rolling her hips up. 

“So fucking good,” You don’t recognize your voice, eyes locked on watching your cock appear in between her legs. 

“I missed you,” Her body shivers as she takes you in again. 

It’s a confession, something she’s been holding in for a while based on how she rides you slowly, intently, purposefully—to remind you just what you’ve been missing since. 

All you can do is moan because she feels too good wrapped around you, the overstimulation of her walls hugging your cock in the best kind of way. Sex has always felt good, but with her, it just feels like more.

Your hand slips underneath her hoodie, gently palming her breasts as she moves above you. She’s always been reactive to your touch, and you couldn’t forget the spots that always have her begging for more. 

“Such a good girl,” You watch her hips gyrate into figure eights, hypnotizing you as she mewls with every roll. Her walls tighten at the praise, her slick getting slicker. 

Jennie’s mouth is suddenly on your lips, attacking with such gusto as her pace increases. Her clit brushes against your public bone and you can feel her impending orgasm from her pussy’s death-like grip. 

If this is how you go, what a way to die.

Your hands find hers, interlacing your fingers together. She never breaks away, shoving her tongue into your mouth as she pants and moans like the good girl she is. She brings your arms overhead, hips grounding on top of yours. 

“I’m gonna cum daddy,” Jennie mumbles weakly against you, her hips stutter, pace erratic as she fucks herself all over your cock. 

You snap your waist upward, leaving no spot in between her walls untouched, and she loses it. She lets go of your hands, arms wrapping tightly around your neck as she holds on.

All you can focus on is getting her to cum because time is running out. You continue thrusting, hands easily finding her hips as you guide her movements, the sound of your bodies spurring you on. 

“Baby,” You grit out, hips erratically pounding up into her. The change in nickname meant you were close, too close that you might release inside of her. 

“Do it daddy,” Jennie raises her head slightly, eyes locked onto yours. “You know you want to,” She whispers, breath ghosting over your lips as her body slams against yours. 

“Princess wants me to cum inside her?” You breathe out, hands trailing down to cup her buttocks, massaging the flesh. 

“Yes,” Jennie whines, “Please.” 

You’re getting closer and closer, and it’s helping almost too well that Jennie mumbles the dirtiest things, too explicit that if it was anyone else, they’d run away. 

It’s you though, too turned on by her body and her words that as soon as the words breed me daddy fall from her lips you lose it. Your orgasm crashes through your body. You sit up as Jennie continues working herself over your cock, feeling you release, wailing, whimpering as it floods her. 

Jennie’s body seizes in your hold, back arching as her walls suddenly spasm around your length, prolonging your orgasm. You swear her pussy’s pulsing and your vision goes white, holding her  tightly against your chest as you rut into her. 

Her teeth sink into your shoulder, the pain adding to the pleasure, as she fails miserably to muffle her scream. You pray to whatever higher beings there are that the others aren’t on their way back yet because she’s loud.

You gasp for air as her chest heaves on top of yours. 

You weren’t expecting to have sex this weekend, let alone Jennie of all people. You’ve toned down on the nights with random women, something Rosie and Lisa commend you for. It wasn’t without question, which you were honest that you wanted to at least try to have another relationship. 

You rub soothingly over Jennie’s skin, body slightly shivering at the contact as goosebumps form underneath your touch.

“Hi,” Jennie mumbles against your neck, still a bit breathy as she catches her breath. 

“Hi yourself,” You squeeze the pliable muscle, molding against your hand. “You’re okay, right?” You’re concerned because you both went a little—a lot—rough on each other’s bodies. 

“Yes,” Jennie taps your nose playfully. “I forgot how big you were.”

The thing is, her position hasn’t changed. The comment goes straight to your head and your cock throbs, already overly sensitive, along Jennie’s warm, snug walls. 

Naturally, she feels it, letting out a surprised moan that has her burying her face back into your neck. 

“Sorry,” You breathe out, the only word you could properly form. 

“You’re such a guy,” Jennie chuckles. “Immediately reacting to hearing anything related to your dick size.” 

You apologize again, which she tells you it’s okay. Casually mentioning that you’re the biggest she’s ever had anyways. You lift her off you, hissing as your cock feels like it can breathe after suffocating inside Jennie. 

“Ass,” Jennie says simply, rolling off you to perfectly slot her head on your shoulder. 

Maybe it’s the hormones. Or maybe it’s the denial. 

Reality soon sets in as you just had sex with your ex-girlfriend. You even had the nerve to play into your favorite dynamic. 

“Jen-” Two fingers are on your lips. 

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Jennie says quietly. 

“But-” You try to say something, but the gentle press stops you. 

“I know we have to talk, but I’m sore and exhausted,” Jennie sighs. The crack of twigs and leaves alerts your brain. “We’ll talk. We obviously have to, but later okay?” Rosie’s singing something off tune, and it’s louder than it was a few moments ago.

“Okay,” Is all you can say, as her fingers trail along your jawline. It’s an intimate move, turning your head the slightest to feel the gentle pressure of Jennie’s lips against yours. 

--

You wake up alone in the tent, the sound of the girls laughing disrupts your sleep. You rub your eyes as soon as you walk out, the conversation falling quiet. 

“Good morning, oppa,” Alice greets as you yawn. 

You send a lazy wave, searching for a seat, which ironically was in between Jennie and Lisa. You notice Jennie’s wearing one of the sweaters you packed. You also notice how it’s zipped to the top, completely covering her neck. 

“You missed out last night,” Rosie picks up where the conversation left off. “We were just telling Jennie how Lisa unintentionally walked away with Lia’s phone number.” 

“I didn’t know she was into girls,” Lisa defends, shaking her head. 

“It’s okay,” Jisoo pats her on the head. “The one time you don’t try to get a girl’s number, you do. Take it for what it is.”

It earns you a chuckle as Alice hands you a plate, a grateful smile sent her way as you realize how hungry you are. 

“Well, at least I can take oppa with me,” Lisa shrugs. 

“Uh what? I’m not going to be some third wheel,” You say after taking a bite. 

“No, dumb dumb,” Rosie scoffs. “Ryujin. She was totally into you.” 

From the corner of your eye, Jennie’s body tenses. 

It goes unnoticed by the others, too engrossed with the conversation, but you’ve always been acutely aware of how Jennie feels. She acts cold and distant with most people, but it’s all part of a façade. It especially breaks down when it involves you. Everyone knew when she was upset with you because she wore it on her face. 

“Oh well-”

“You seemed pretty interested,” Alice comments behind her mug. 

“I was just being nice,” You weren’t interested to an extent. Under different circumstances, the probability of something happening was high. You cared more about how Jennie, and that paid off.  

“You’re always being nice,” Lisa raises her hands, both sets of index and middle fingers bending flexing twice. 

Jennie’s standing again, which you don’t understand why this woman can’t just sit still. You sense her irritation rolling in your direction. You internally sigh as her attitude, this early in the morning, was more a nuisance than anything. 

You don’t say anything when Jennie tells the group that she’s going to take a shower at the community center. For what it’s worth, it’s like a spa with private baths and showers the size of your tiny one-bedroom apartment. She hardly glances your way, but there’s something in your gut telling you to go with her. 

After you finish eating, of course. 

--

Your head snaps back, groaning as it hits the bathroom tile. You watch how Jennie’s eyes never leave yours and it’s taking everything in you not to cum right then and there. 

Her mouth is dangerous and she knows it. 

“Daddy,” Jennie sucks in a breath, keeping her hand wrapped tightly around your cock. “I have a question for you.” 

Her innocent expression pales in comparison to what her hand’s actually doing. She languidly strokes your cock. Too lost in the sensation that you almost don’t hear her question. 

“What?” You ask. 

“Are you going to go on a date with Ryujin?” Jennie asks, leaning ever so slight to run her tongue along your length.

It clicks why Jennie suddenly appeared in your private shower. There’s a somewhat strict policy about men and women showers, but when you heard a knock on your door, you weren’t expecting her to be on the other side. 

Jennie didn’t answer why she was there when you asked, but her dropping to her knees as soon as you shut the door, it was obvious she had a plan in mind. 

“Staking your claim on me already?” You quip, hand cupping her face. It’s not the smartest move to taunt her, especially with her hand wrapped around you. 

Jennie clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes, “Like there’s anything to claim.” 

“And if I do?” You trail your finger along her jawline, watching her eyes narrow in the process. “What’re you going to do about it?” 

The thing with Jennie, that she’ll deny to you and swear up and down to anyone else, is that she gets jealous. You learned that very quickly when you started dating. She wouldn’t say anything if a girl spoke to you, but afterwards when you were alone, she’d remind you that you were hers. 

She’s naturally possessive of you, and you reaped the benefits in some sick power play she’d try to carry out. 

“You won’t,” Jennie’s mouth wraps around your cock, her tongue doing things that need to be studied because it feels too good. 

“Why is that princess?” You ask as she takes you in deeper. 

Instead of answering, Jennie goes lower, your tip hitting the back of her throat. She fucking swallows around your cock and it has your muscles tensing. You have to make sure you don’t go too far, as much as you want to, because it’s still been a while. She repeats the movement, letting off the slightest before taking more of you in. She keeps her mouth tight around your girth, hollowing out her cheeks that has you feel lightheaded. 

“I bet Ryujin could take all of me,” You goad, watching as her pace increases, fucking your cock down her throat. “She could be my princess next.”

It’s a dirty move, but an empty threat. Jennie knows at her core that only she’s deemed worthy of that name. 

But it has the best results as she takes all of you. Her lips press against your pubic bone, staring up at you and it’s a beautiful sight to see your ex-girlfriend’s face stuffed with your cock. 

Jennie holds it for what feels like a lifetime before slowly bobbing her head up. “Don’t be a fucking ass.” 

“Then prove me wrong.”

(She does, exploding on her face a minute later.)

--

“You two are being weird,” Rosie comments as you grill the meat. 

“What?” You ask distractedly to make sure the bulgogi doesn’t burn unevenly. 

“You and Jennie.”

“What are you talking about?” You set the tongs down after flipping the pieces. 

“I can’t put my finger on it yet, but there’s something different about you two.” 

You don’t respond, feigning being busy by unwrapping the other meats. 

Sure, you had sex last night. And sure, Jennie made a mess of you in the showers, but you couldn’t exactly tell your friends that. Their reaction is something you’re not prepared for yet.

“But you two aren’t fighting right? I know that you were already reluctant about this whole trip, and the sleeping arrangements were a bust, but it isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, right?”

Definitely not is what you want to say, but you know Rosie wouldn’t let you get away with saying that. 

“No, not fighting. We’re making it work,” You answer vaguely. 

It is the last night of the trip, which thankfully the group decided on having a calmer night since you have to trek back to the city in the morning. 

“Good,” Rosie nods approvingly. “Hopefully everything will still be okay when we get back.” 

--

You have a nice buzz going as you settle in your sleeping bag. Jennie slips herself next to you, slotting a leg over yours before curling into your side. You smell the alcohol from her breath as she sighs contentedly. 

She’s a bit drunk compared to you, thanks to Lisa offering shots with dinner. She practically sat on your lap in front of everyone that it surprised you, but the others even more. Rosie gave you a pointed look, realizing that something did happen between you two, but thankfully doesn’t comment. 

“I want you,” Jennie murmurs against your neck, breathing warm air against your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine, but you know now is not the time. She drives a hard bargain to not take her right then and there when she says, “I’m so wet for you. Having you cum all over me earlier left me wanting more.”

“Princess not now,” You gulp, cock stirring at the words. “There’s people here.” 

“So? You don’t want them to hear how well you fuck me?” Jennie’s hand sneaks over your crotch, palming you gently. “They always wanted to know, but I wouldn’t say. I didn’t want them to know the things you’d do to me.” 

Your cock rises at the thought. She smiles against your neck, slipping a hand underneath your sweats as the contrast of her cold hand against your throbbing length has you suck in a breath. 

“Remember how I’d beg, offering my body to you to do whatever you want?” She whispers seductively. “I’d do it again. You know how much I love the stretch of you taking what’s yours. You know how much I love when you cum in me, on me, making a fucking mess of me.”

You clear your throat, trying to keep some semblance of control. You feel lightheaded at the thought of doing all those things to her. “Jen, you’re drunk.”

“So?” Jennie’s hand wraps around you, slowly stroking your cock. “Drunk or sober. It’s never stopped us before. Drunk sex was especially good. Remember when you fucked me in the ass? The only person to ever do that. I was fucking ruined after.” 

“Jesus fuck,” You grit out as her grip gets tighter. That night was fun. She let you have her however you wanted, and you’ve always had a thing for her sweet bottom. Those little cheeks made beautiful sounds as you pounded away. “Behave.” 

“Fine,” Jennie huffs, pulling her hand away. She places her hand on your chest, curling into you more. 

“I’ll make it up to you when we get back,” You offer, kissing her forehead. 

“Promise?” 

“Yes.”

One you very much intend to keep.

--

--

Jennie squirms in your hold, hips shaking, pussy quivering along your cock as you steady her. 

“Daddy come on,” She moans out, head falling on your sheets as she tries to get you to move. “You promised you’d make it up to me.” 

You did. You will. Just not right now. You’re just taking in the moment of her wrapped oh so tightly around you that you want to enjoy it before you absolutely ruin her. 

Jennie was over your place an hour after you dropped off the siblings. Rosie grilled you on what the hell happened, but you remained strong and did not say a word. She wouldn’t drop it, which annoyed you, but you knew you wouldn’t say anything unless you spoke with Jennie first. 

And you were actually able to have a somewhat productive conversation about what you were doing. She didn’t want to be made a fool again, which you swore nothing like would happen. You’re both older, more settled into your careers, that this—whatever this was—was more stable. She saw how much the break-up affected you, but ego got in the way to want to reconcile. You understood, the thought of her walking in with someone that wasn’t you, would’ve scarred you for life. 

“I’m not going to make it easy for you,” Jennie said, standing over you, pulling you up.

“I don’t expect anything less,” You whispered, a quiet promise made to whatever higher being there was that you were absolutely not going to fuck this up.

“Good,” And she dragged you towards your room. 

Jennie’s getting antsy, but the sight of your cock in between her legs is one you could never tire of. You wish your phone was nearby, capturing this to save for later. 

But you’ll do that later. 

“Daddy,” Jennie huffs, arching her back to get you deeper, but you press your body weight into her, keeping your cock snug within her walls. “You promised.” 

“I know princess,” You trail a hand down her spine, watching her body shiver from the contact. “You just look so good,” Her pussy tightens. 

“I’ll look better once you move,” Jennie gasps as you roll your hips. “Do you want me to beg? I will if that’s what’ll get you to fuck—”

You don’t let her finish her sentence, thrusting your hips deeper that her body jolts at the sudden movement. You lean forward, just enough to kiss the top of her head, hair pressed against your lips as you murmur, “Oh princess, you’ll be begging me to stop.” 

You stand up straight, slowly pulling your hips back, and watch, entranced, as your cock slides out. It’s slick from Jennie, and you’ve never seen anything hotter. You let out a sigh as you feel her contract around the tip. She moans and something snaps inside you that you suddenly thrust back in. 

Jennie squeals at the pressure, letting out a filthy moan that has you groaning. Your body moves on its own accord, slowly pumping your cock in and out of her pussy that has you seeing stars. 

“You’re so fucking big,” Jennie moans, pants, as she starts to babble nonsense as her walls accommodate to your girth. “I need it daddy. I’ve been so fucking wet.”

Her walls rhythmically squeeze every time you bottom out. It doesn’t stop you. It makes you chase the feeling, an addiction that you wouldn’t mind having. 

You lose yourself in her body, watching her bite her lip and lose her breath as she grabs onto the sheets. Hearing your name fall from her lips wakes something up in you.The sounds she makes drive you to thrust into her, and when you hit a certain spot inside, she demands you don’t stop. You don’t break rhythm as she squirms. You grab her hips, letting out groans of your own as you feel your orgasm coming. 

Her hands grip the sheet, wrinkling the fabric as your pace quickens, hitting every single nerve inside her has your body on fire. She lets you fuck her at whatever pace you want. Slow then fast then grind before it has her hips meeting yours perfectly in sync. 

“Fucking hell, princess,” You groan, ceasing your movement as you watch Jennie’s hips roll and grind on your cock, finding every which angle to take you. “You’re being so fucking good. Are you trying to make me cum?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jennie chants like a prayer, turning her head so her cheek rests against the fabric. “I want it. Cum in me daddy, breed me like the good girl I am.” 

You’re close to the point of no return, especially with the way her pussy contracts at every thrust. She’s doing everything to suck you in and it’s working. You plant your foot on the edge of your bed, increasing your tempo tenfold as the sound of skin hitting gets louder. You’re fucking into her, nailing her onto your bed as her knees slide, opening her up as you jack hammer through her walls. 

“Oh shit, baby,” The nickname falls from her lips, “Baby, I’m going to fucking cum.”

It was a short warning because after three thrusts, Jennie’s body tenses, back wildly arching as her pussy tightens, knocking the wind out of you. Your body falls on top of hers, hips erratically snapping before you meet your end. 

Jennie growls, pushing her hips up into yours to take everything you have to offer. She does a nasty move by humping back onto your cock, short small thrusts that have you pushing your cum deeper inside her pussy. 

“More, daddy,” She keeps moving, hips never ceasing. Her words of I want you to ruin me keeps you hard.

With a sudden burst of energy, you push yourself up, pulling out of her. You ignore the small whine she lets out, flipping her body over. She’s almost too responsive with your touch by the way she spreads her legs wide, knees falling open. 

You grab your cock, aiming your tip at her opening before flicking the head on top of her clit. She mewls, eyes rolling back. You can’t wait anymore. In one swift movement, your cock enters her without warning. Her eyes shoot back to yours, letting out a scream as you pound into her.

Your hands perch on her knees, holding her open as her tits bounce with every thrust. One hand sneaks in between, rapidly rubbing her clit that her eyes shoot open wide. 

“Baby,” Her voice comes out hoarse. “I-It’s too much.”

Jennie’s all fucked out, hands gripping your forearms as her legs flail out. You’re hardly paying her any attention, too focused on your cock splitting her open. 

“Your pussy’s too good,” You don’t care how crass it sounds. Your thoughts are wild right now, and you can’t help but say all of them out loud. “I can’t get enough. How the hell did you keep this from me? I missed this.”

“I missed you,” Jennie says affectionately, scratching lightly. 

“God, keep squeezing me like that princess,” You’re thrusting wildly, applying more pressure on her clit as you rub. 

Her orgasm catches both of you off guard, her eyes widening as she screams, her walls forcing you out before a sudden gush of liquid sprays your cock. You react fast, forcing your way through your walls as the hot, tight feeling has you hitting your peak again. 

You’re greedy though so once you start to release, you pull out, quickly jerking your shaft as ropes of cum shoot out. You aim for her quivering pussy, before painting her stomach. White droplets spraying over her skin has you easing your cock back inside for a moment. Her walls milk whatever’s left before you collapse next to her. 

You’re trying to catch your breath that you don’t even feel her move, but your cock’s suddenly enveloped by something warm and wet that your head snaps back. Your hand easily threads through her hair, guiding her gently as she licks around and over your cock. 

“Princess,” You pant, the stimulation being too much even for you. “What’re you doing?” 

“Cleaning up the mess on daddy’s cock,” Jennie answers simply, tongue lapping your tip. 

Once Jennie’s satisfied, she pecks the top of your cock, humming to herself before kissing your stomach. She crawls above you, swinging a leg over your body before resting her head in the crook of your neck. 

“I’m still horny,” Jennie whines, kissing underneath your jaw. 

“Jennie,” You sigh, bone dead as your thumb gently rubs her inner thigh. 

“This is your fault, you know,” Jennie says out of the blue. 

“What did I do?” 

“If you didn’t know how to fuck me, I wouldn’t be in this position,” Jennie mumbles shyly. 

“Well, I’m sorry?” You offer, even though you’re not. 

“Whatever,” Jennie huffs as your eyes close. “I’m still not going out with you.”

“I haven’t even asked yet.” 

“You’re going to, and my answer will be no,” Jennie states matter-of-factly. 

You roll your eyes, chuckling, “I’m sure it will be, but I could probably get a yes sooner if I withhold sex—ow!” 

Jennie pinches you. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“You’re so demanding.” 

“Yeah, well,” Jennie pushes herself up, face in front of yours, “You’ll have no choice but to deal with it.”

Deal. 

--

--

--

(kinda left it at where there could be a prequel and/or sequel, but meh, we'll see.

serious thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed my previous stories. i'll see ya in the next one, whenever that may be.)

[sissyisawitch]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Relationship: Ominis Gaunt x You

Summary: Even though the two of you are not on good terms after a certain event, you and Ominis decide to go and explore Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium in order to help Sebastian. But you know what they say, danger helps to reconcile… but also to bring out the truth. Alternative : My take on the Scriptorium incident.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Author's Note: Hi! It's been a while... I haven't had much time for myself lately, so I've put writing aside. But summer's here, so I took the opportunity to finish this draft that I've had for far too long. And what better way to come back than with some Ominis fluff? Enjoy!🌞

Warnings: Major spoilers for the "In the Shadow of the Study" quest

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say ‘I love you.’”

You felt a wrench in your heart as you read those few words written by Shakespeare. It was astonishing how a few drops of ink on the page of a book, a simple garland of lines and curls drawn in different directions, could trigger disproportionate reactions. Did everyone else feel the same way, or was it just that you were too sensitive?

Or perhaps it was simply that these damn love stories reminded you that you had not had the right to your own, that the boy to whom you had offered your heart had given it back to you completely mutilated?

Another wrench in your heart.

‘It’s simple and concise for a declaration of love… but at least she had the right to one, and one that had the merit of being clear and direct to boot’, you could not help thinking as you reread your book.

Time had passed, but you still felt it all. The disappointment, the humiliation, the resentment that came with the sensation of having had your feelings played with, the hatred you felt towards yourself for having let yourself be fooled, not to mention the torrents of tears you had shed. But the most devastating feeling was undoubtedly the despair you felt when you remembered that you had absolutely ruined everything with one of the most important people in your life.

Ominis… Sweet, caring, beautiful Ominis… Your best and closest friend. And to think that three little words of love spoken a couple of weeks ago – the same ones you had just read – had been enough to destroy the strong bond between you two.

Once again, it was astonishing how a series of letters, a succession of various sounds, could trigger such a disproportionate reaction and write over months of shared moments of laughter, of little attentions to one another.

“So!”

You abruptly lifted your head from your book – which you were only skimming through – after Sebastian abruptly dropped down next to you on the sofa in the common room.

“Still moping around?”

“Nah, I’m in tip-top form, can’t you see?” You deadpanned, your voice brimming with irony.

“My, my. No need for the attitude.” Sebastian smirked at your feisty character.

Sebastian had got used pretty quickly to this new dynamic. He would have breakfast with you because you were both late risers. During the day, he would sit next to either you or Ominis depending on the class, making sure to maintain an equity. For example, he would sit with you in Defence Against the Dark Arts because he loved duelling you, and he would sit with Ominis in Potions so that he could help him. As for the evening, he would have dinner with Ominis, and then come back to see you once the blond had gone to bed.

In fact, without even exchanging a single word, you and Ominis had concocted a shared custody schedule of your best friend.

Sebastian continued, entirely oblivious to your reveries, “Anyway, I’ve got something to take your mind off things!”

You could not hold back the sigh that left your lips, “Another brilliant idea of yours, I presume?”

“And your presumptions couldn’t be more right.”

Sebastian proudly explained his latest discovery, that Salazar Slytherin had a secret Scriptorium here at Hogwarts. He was evidently determined to explore it, insisting that it might hold answers as to how to heal Anne.

So far, it seemed to be just another of Sebastian’s plans…

“…The only problem is that only a Gaunt knows where the entrance is… So we have to ask Ominis.”

You raised a dubious eyebrow at him, “This… is your brilliant idea to take my mind off things?”

“Oh, come on! It’s important to me! And if you don’t want to do it for me, then do it for Anne! You can tolerate his presence for a few minutes, can’t you?”

As you looked down and pinched the bridge of your nose, another sigh escaped you. It was becoming an unfortunate habit when you were around Sebastian.

You sighed once more, this time in capitulation, “Okay… I’m in.”

When a beaming smile started to tug at the corners of his lips, you immediately interrupted him with a menacing finger pointed at his chest.

“But! You do the talking. The less I talk to him, the better I feel.”

“Deal.” He replied with a mysterious glint in his gaze. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I’ll lead you to him.”

“What? Now?” You exclaimed with wide eyes. It had to be said that you had no desire to go, and that postponing the fateful moment until as late as possible sounded fabulous at the moment.

“Of course, now! Do you really want to do this in broad daylight and get busted by the teachers?”

“When you put it like that… Let’s go.” Without wasting another second, you got up from the sofa with a newfound determination that you had not suspected, but which Sebastian always knew how to awaken using the right words.

After climbing the spiral staircase leading out of the common room, Sebastian led you – if not dragged you – through various corridors of the castle which you were not used to venturing into, and which were very rarely frequented.

If you were reluctantly following, the boy accompanying you was as cheerful as could be. You could tell by the way he moved with haste, his steps almost bouncing. He looked like a young child who had just had one of his whims indulged (and, in a way, he had).

Sebastian suddenly stopped in his tracks and nodded his head towards Ominis who was standing on the other end of the corridor, “Go on, go convince him.”

You turned sharply towards him, giving him a disapproving look, “You said you’d do the talking!”

“Exactly, the talking, which I already did, and it didn’t work. So now, you go do the convincing.”

“Sneaky bastard.” You muttered under your breath, sending him one last murderous glare.

As you approached the mysterious blond, you could not help but analyse him from head to toe. His silky hair was as well-brushed as ever, giving him his typical elegance. He was leaning against a wall, the features of his face impassive, making you wonder what could be going on in that impenetrable, but undoubtedly fascinating, mind of his. Merlin, everything about him was so adorable…

Fuck. You could not go on thinking like that. You had to move on from him, even if it was going to take a colossal effort.

But… that did not mean you had to stop watching him categorically. No, you could continue to observe banal things about him, like the way he suddenly took a deep breath before his shoulders relaxed, while you were only a few steps away from him.

Before you could announce your presence, Ominis called your name.

“U-Um yes, hi… How… How did you know it was me?” You stammered awkwardly, still mentally unprepared to start a conversation with Ominis.

“Your perfume. I’ve got used to it. I could recognise it in a million.” He declared easily, as if it were the most banal thing to say to someone you had recently rejected.

“Oh…”

Upon hearing your long and awkward silence, his serene and composed appearance was quickly overwritten with his own discomfort, “Listen, about last time… I wanted you to know that I sincerely apologise. I should not have avoided you for so long and–”

“Let’s not talk about this, alright?” You cut him short, physically pained just by the memory of your last conversation. “I just want to forget this ever happened… Besides, that’s not what I came to talk to you about.”

“I’m listening.”

It did not take long to convince him to reveal the location of Salazar Slytherin’s secret room, just a few minutes at the most. After all, you knew Ominis like the back of your hand, so it was child’s play to find the words he needed to hear.

But that didn’t mean you kept talking to him afterwards.

Once you entered the Scriptorium, you did not utter a single word. Your demeanour, which had been warm and understanding a few minutes earlier, was now nowhere to be seen. Seeing you acting so silent, cold and detached, Ominis must certainly have thought you were unrecognisable. If that was the case, he did not show it. On the contrary, he was always trying to get as close to you as possible, all the while scratching the back of his neck, or running a hand through his hair nervously, as if he wanted to start a conversation but did not dare. For some reason that eluded you, he also insisted that you stay behind him whenever you entered a new room.

The only thing you knew for sure was that he was desperate to reweave the invisible string between the two of you that had been the source of your formerly close friendship. But there was a problem… it was still too early and too painful for you to mend it on your end.

So you simply solved the various challenges you came across, and eventually silently handed the letters you found from Noctua to Ominis, so that he could read them for himself with his wand (admittedly, you wanted to avoid him, but you still had enough compassion left to give him what was left of his late aunt). Meanwhile, you let Sebastian do the talking to lighten the mood (he had kept his promise after all). Everything was going well so far.

That is… until you entered a new room, and the stone door slammed shut behind you three, producing a loud crash that bounced off the walls.

“Merlin!” You cried out in fear.

“Yeah, I think we’re locked in.” Sebastian agreed nonchalantly.

“No! Merlin!” You repeated in panic but, this time, pointing at something on the ground with a trembling finger.

Sebastian looked down, and quietly gasped before holding his breath. Never in a million years would you have imagined that you would stumble across bones, and therefore be confronted with the fact that someone had died right in this very spot.

It was only then that you realised that the three of you were potentially next in line, that there was a possibility you might never get out of this room. At this morbid realisation, you froze entirely. You were unable to move, to think, to speak. It was impossible for you to react. It was as if, in a panic, your body had already accepted its fate and was getting used to the fact that, soon, it would no longer respond to anything.

The silence in the room lasted a second too long, and Ominis too began to panic, “Well, what is it?”

“…A skeleton.” Sebastian said coldly, although the grimace on his face betrayed him and showed that he too was in turmoil. “And Noctua’s last journal entry. She mentions being trapped here – blocked by an Unforgivable Curse.”

Because of the shock, you had not even registered that you had the remains of Ominis’s aunt in front of you.

For fear that your words would be clumsy and worsen the despair Ominis must be feeling, you decided it was better to remain silent and act instead.

Slowly but surely, you approached him. While he had his back turned to you, you wrapped your arms around his slim figure and hugged him from behind. It was not a gesture you would normally have made towards Ominis after what had happened between you two. But in view of the gloomy circumstances in which you found yourselves, you had found the strength to put your resentment aside.

And it had to be said that, underneath your unaffected exterior, you still had a huge soft spot for this boy. Letting him go through this ordeal on his own would simply have broken your own heart, as well as his.

“Ominis…” His name rolled off your tongue by itself.

You felt him stiffen at your touch, and you took in a sharp breath. In your eyes, it was just another rejection. He obviously did not want you by his side, both literally and figuratively. So, in an attempt to protect your fragile little heart, which had mistakenly let its guard down, you decided to let Ominis go.

But he stopped you.

“No. Stay.” He said firmly, though his voice sounded obviously shaken.

He held you back against him by grabbing your hand. He squeezed it, then pressed it against his chest with his own, just above his heart. His heartbeat echoed in your palm. You could feel it speeding up, matching the rhythm of yours, as if they were connected.

In response, you surrendered to the embrace by resting your head between his shoulder blades. However, once again, your touch had the effect of a painful electric shock on him, and he abruptly pulled away from you. This was just another example of how exhausting Ominis could be. He had always acted like this with you: one moment he was giving you hope that he was returning your feelings, and the next he was pushing you away.

Ominis moved away from you to get closer to Sebastian, shouting in a distraught manner, “This – is where she died. This is where we’ll die. I shouldn’t have listened to either of you!”

“Ominis, I’m truly sorry about your aunt. But I know what to do. It’s going to be difficult.” Sebastian replied in a calm, composed voice that contrasted radically with that of his friend.

Sebastian subsequently proceeded to explain his plan, that the Cruciatus Curse – the incantation for which was written on the floor – was to be used to open the next room. Knowing that Ominis categorically refused to be associated with the Dark Arts, and that you were unwilling to learn any of the Unforgivable curses, Sebastian’s last remaining option was to cast Crucio on you.

Ominis stared at him, speechless and dumbfounded, as if he had just uttered the most grotesque of abominations, “Are you out of your mind? Do you even realise what you’re saying? You want to torture your friend? Our friend!”

Sebastian raised his voice to match Ominis’s, “And you, can you think for two seconds? It’s either I hurt her temporarily, or I let her die in that shithole! And us with her! There’s no need to think about it, it’s a no-brainer!”

“And I’m telling you it’s out of the question! I won’t let you hurt her!”

“So what, then? We wait for you to come up with some wonderful solution where no Unforgivable Curse is involved? You know very well there’s no such thing! It’s Salazar Slytherin we’re talking about, you should have expected it.”

Sebastian paused, making the atmosphere even heavier. His tone had subsided, but you knew all too well that it did not mean that his anger had subsided along with it. Quite the contrary.

“You know something? For a guy who likes to control everything to the point of dictating other people’s choices, I think you’re being awfully passive right now.”

Though unseeing, Ominis’s eyes glared at Sebastian, looking daggers at him, “What exactly are you insinuating?”

“That you’re a control freak who’s got no balls.”

“Boys, stop it.” You tried to calm things down as you heard their voices escalate and their words sharpen.

But Ominis ignored you blatantly, to the point where you wondered if he had even heard you, “Oh, really? Do you want me to tell you what I think of you?”

‘‘Just you try!”

“You’ve become a complete nutter ever since Anne has been–”

“ENOUGH!”

Your outburst seemed to be just what was needed to put an end to the two boys’ cockfight. They both turned brusquely towards you, their eyes wide open. It had to be said that seeing you angry was already a rare event, so to see you furious with them was even more staggering.

“Enough.” You repeated firmly, sweeping your eyes over the two boys to make sure you had fully regained control of the situation. “Sebastian, shut up. You’ve gone too far. And you, Ominis, I don’t need you making decisions for me. It’s not your job to defend me.”

You gave Ominis a black look. It was foolish because he could not see it, but something told you that, somehow, he could still feel it. Especially with the double entendre in your words, which implicitly referred to how Ominis had rejected you, as well as all the bitterness you retained from it. It was petty, but you could not help yourself.

You then turned to the other boy, looking determined, “Do it, Sebastian. I’m ready.”

The brown-haired boy nodded and positioned himself in front of you. He raised his wand in your direction and concentrated.

“Crucio!”

A bolt of red light came out from the tip of Sebastian’s wand, and hit you square in the chest, right in the heart.

“NO!” You heard Ominis’s voice protest.

Was it really Ominis though? Maybe you had just dreamt it. You could not be sure, for every single one of your senses was overstimulated by an electric shock running through your body, and causing you to collapse to the ground on all fours. It was brutal but manageable, you thought.

Little did you know, that was only the preamble. The worst was yet to come.

Rapidly, every muscle in your body contracted, including those in your chest and throat, preventing you from breathing. The spell slowly left you suffocating, while the pain took care of absorbing what little energy remained in your body. It was as if a billion needles were sticking into every inch of your skin, sinking deeper and deeper with the aim of piercing your soul and finishing you off.

It seemed to you like this hell lasted for an entire hour, even though you were confident Sebastian would never let you endure this kind of torture for more than a couple of seconds.

And then it stopped. Though the remnants of the curse remained.

You had suspected that such a cruel curse was not going to leave you alone so easily. Still, you were not prepared for how agonising it felt.

Your ears ringing. Your vision fogged with black spots. Your anarchic breathing. Your body crumpling to the ground, inert. And all of this because of the lack of oxygen. All your senses were rendered nonfunctional, leading you to believe that you would remain in this state for the rest of your life.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked you with genuine concern in his voice, to which you nodded silently, your strength gradually returning.

Of course, Ominis was unable to see you, and began to get upset, thinking that you were still unresponding, “Of course not, Sebastian! Do you really think anyone can be alright after receiving the Cruciatus Curse?”

You wanted more than ever to say something to shut Ominis up. Or was it to reassure him? Probably a combination of both. Either way, the reality remained the same: you were still too weak to utter a single word. Your vocal cords were still paralysed from the agonised screams you had let out.

Thankfully, the door opening put an early stop to the boys’ bickering.

“It worked!” Sebastian exclaimed and immediately entered the room to explore it, leaving you alone with Ominis.

Ominis had no idea what to say to ease your pain. Unfortunately, he had already endured the Cruciatus Curse himself – and at the hands of his family to boot – so he knew how you might feel. However, no one had ever comforted him, so he had no idea what words would be likely to soothe you.

But if there was one thing his beloved Aunt Noctua used to tell him, it was that words come from the mind, and gestures from the heart. And it was always better to speak from the heart.

So Ominis let his heart guide him.

He knelt down beside you, and helped you to lie on your back, so that you would be more comfortable. But to your surprise, he did not stop there. He made you rest your head on his thighs, then stroked your hair with a hesitant hand. It was only after a moment that he spoke again.

“Can I be of any help?” He whispered, as if afraid of disturbing your repose while you were recuperating.

“H-Help–” Your weak voice got caught. You had to cough a couple of times before you could start again. “Help me stand up, will you?”

“You should take your time and lie down for a while. You just went through a lot–”

“I’ll survive.” You cut Ominis off abruptly, in a clearer but above all more irritated voice. You had had more than enough of his constant mood swings towards you, where one moment he could not be more doting on you, and the next he was acting as if he had never met you.

Ominis remained silent. You did not get the impression that he was hesitating over his next words, but rather that he was taking the time to digest how you had harshly refused his advice.

“…If you say so.”

“You know, I’m tougher than you think.” You kept the same cold, distant tone.

While he kept the same nonchalant and stoic tone, “I know.”

“Good.”

An awkward silence settled in, where you could do nothing but contemplate the ruins of your friendship. Where once stood a fortress of shared complicity and happiness, now remained only the vestiges of two acquaintances who were unwilling to rebuild what they had once known in the past.

To put an end to this heart-wrenching moment, you headed for the next room, without adding a word. Ominis followed suit, guided by his wand which pulsed red light at its tip.

“Guys? Care to lend me a hand, or do I have to explore this room all alone?” Sebastian called out without ceasing to rummage through Salazar Slytherin’s belongings.

You were about to answer when you suddenly saw Ominis stride resolutely in front of you. The frown on his face was unmistakable, as were his tense features.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve asking us for help! Not only did you just cast the Cruciatus Curse on your friend, but you didn’t even have the presence of mind to ask me if I was all right after finding my aunt’s bones!”

Ominis’s anger only seemed to have the effect of amusing Sebastian, “I thought it was stupid to ask someone if they were okay when it’s obvious they’re not.”

“It’s a question of common sense, Sebastian! If you had any, you would have realised that it would be best for you to lie low for a while and fend for yourself.”

“Excuse me for not being perfect. Not everyone can be a saint like you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sebastian.” Ominis visibly cringed upon hearing his friend’s words.

But it only made Sebastian’s smirk grow wider, “For once, you’re right. I’m being ridiculous. You’re far from being a saint, because if we’d listened to you, we’d be rotting in the previous room, and we’d be letting Anne die too, since you’ve also given up on the idea of curing her, just like everybody else.”

“Don’t start that again. You know perfectly well I haven’t given up on her, or else I wouldn’t be here having this nonsensical conversation with you.”

Sebastian’s arrogant smile fell, “Oh, stop it, Ominis! We both know you’re not here for Anne, but you’re too shitscared to admit it to yourself. Which goes to show, even when you’re already blind, you can still be blinded by fear.”

“SHUT UP!” Ominis roared in a deeply enraged way that you had never heard before, to the point where it made you recoil. “You’ve gone too far this time, Sebastian!”

Still frightened by the turn this argument was taking, you decided to intervene, “Guys, please don’t start fighting again. We’re all on edge and–”

“Come. We’re leaving.” Ominis announced sternly, holding out his hand for you to take.

“W-What?” You stammered, bewildered.

“You heard me. Are you coming, or not?”

You had never heard Ominis give you or anyone else an order in this way. Confused as to where this excess of chauvinism was coming from, your instinct advised you to go with the flow. You took his hand – not without shooting Sebastian an apologetic glance – and let the blond boy guide you out of the Scriptorium.

Except that once outside, he continued to drag you through the corridors, towards what you recognised as the direction of the common room. Holding your hand so tightly to the point where it was almost painful, he walked ahead of you at a run.

“Ominis, not so fast.” You requested, but your plea fell on deaf ears.

“How dare he speak to me like that, and insinuate things he has no knowledge of? After everything I’ve done for him! He truly deserves to be left alone; it would surely teach him a valuable lesson. Although… if he was left unsupervised, I’m afraid he’d do even more stupid things. I don’t know what more I can do to get him to listen to reason– What am I saying? It’s not my duty to keep an eye on him. He should just fend for himself for a change!” The blond Slytherin kept rambling, spiralling out of control.

At this stage, nothing and nobody could stop him from getting worked up over Sebastian. He was so consumed with his anger that he was completely oblivious to your distress at walking, your legs still suffering from the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse. You found it hard to keep up with his rapid pace without tripping over your own feet.

“Ominis–”

What was bound to happen did happen. Your legs gave out, and you found yourself on the cold, hard stone floor, which was undoubtedly going to leave several bruises on your skin. A blush of embarrassment crept up on your cheeks. The only good thing was that the sound of your fall had startled Ominis, who stopped and turned towards you.

He came dangerously close to you, “Pardon me if this is improper, but I can’t let you go on like this.”

Next thing you knew, you were off the ground, lifted by Ominis’s strong and protective arms. He held you securely against his chest, and with a newfound reflex, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Your blush intensified, but this time it was because of your racing heart. You were speechless, taken aback, and mind going blank at the realisation that one of your dreams – to be in Ominis’s arms – was coming true, but not in the right circumstances.

“I’m sorry. I was too worked up to notice you were having trouble walking. I should have paid more attention to you.” He apologised as he resumed his walk.

Once in the common room, you thought he was going to put you down at the bottom of the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitories, so that you could go and rest, but instead he went and settled himself on one of the leather sofas opposite the fireplace, the exact same one where you had been sulking a couple of hours earlier. He sat down, cradling you in his lap, while his arms tightened around you a little more, as if he feared you might suddenly decide to break free of his embrace.

Assuming you were going to stay in that position for a while, you rested your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ribcage. Your best guess was that he was still on edge after what had happened with Sebastian.

Trying to soothe him, you murmured, “Don’t be too hard on Sebastian… He’s only ready to do anything to help his sister.”

Ominis let out a long, fed-up sigh, before replying, “And can’t you see that this is precisely the problem? He’ll do anything – even hurt you – and I can’t let him.”

“He hasn’t hurt me, Ominis.”

A frown was beginning to form between his brows again, “Oh really? Because receiving Crucio was a pleasure cruise for you?”

“He had no choice.”

“We always have a choice. This time it was Crucio, but what will it be next time? How do I know he won’t cross the point of no return?” Ominis raised his voice. He got so carried away with his anger that he failed to notice that he had started stroking your thigh with his thumb.

“He told me he would never hurt me.” You answered in an unwaveringly serene tone.

“And yet he already did. He’s a hypocrite.” He snarled. “Actions speak louder than words.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “Does this apply to you as well?”

“What do you mean?”

“Here you are, caressing my thighs after carrying me in your arms, and yet you still claim to see me as nothing more than a friend.”

Caught in the act, Ominis’s hand froze, as did the rest of his body; he even seemed to be holding his breath. He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if trying to seal them shut, for fear they would say something that would put his life on the line.

“Come on, Ominis. Now’s the time to tell me what you really think, don’t you think?” You said, giving him the last little push he needed to confess everything.

“…All right. I lied. Of course I have feelings for you… How could I not? You’re so considerate and graceful… But those feelings come with fear. Fear that you’ll be disappointed in me, that you’ll realise I’m nowhere near good enough for you, that you could find a thousand men better than me. But what I’m most afraid of is being with you. Because believe me, darling, if one day I have the honour of tasting your lips and your caresses, I know that I’ll never be able to live without you ever again.”

For the umpteenth time that evening, Ominis blew your mind in ways you had never imagined. And the worst part – or rather the best part, given the circumstances – was that he had no intention of stopping there. He had so many feelings in his heart that begged to be verbalised and brought to light.

“You made me want to get up in the morning again, if only to hear your voice for a split second. Before I realised it, you hadn’t just become more than a friend, you’d become my reason to live.”

With infinite delicacy, Ominis took your dainty hand in his, feeling the warmth of your skin against his. Slowly, as if to prolong this magical moment, he brought your hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on it, full of tenderness and respect.

“You are both my greatest desire and my greatest fear. Don’t you see how illogical this is? You’ve made me lose control, and I happily let you. I hope this is proof enough of how enamoured I am of you.”

Although you had regained your composure and your vocabulary, you still kept quiet, but this time it was on purpose. You had a very specific idea in the back of your mind.

“I’m begging you, love, say something.” Ominis’s trembling voice implored.

You replied, without the slightest hint of what you were thinking in your tone, “Actions speak louder than words, Ominis. Your words, not mine.”

Ominis did not need to be told twice, although he did take his time to make sure he did things the right way. His hand, which was still resting on your thigh, was trembling from the torrent of emotions running through him. With his fingertips, that same hand skimmed the contours of your body, and moved up to cup your cheek, sending shivers down your spine at the same time. You closed your eyes to savour the contact and understand a little better what the boy in front of you was feeling.

With his thumb, he sought out your lips, before tracing them to fully appreciate their voluptuousness. He felt the smile that had just appeared on your lips. Encouraged by this sign, Ominis leant towards you, his heart beating wildly. As he drew closer, your breaths mingled.

At last, your lips met, timidly at first, then with a passion that had been held back for far too long. This kiss was a moment suspended in time. The world seemed to stop around you, giving way to the magic of that perfect moment.

And suddenly, all the Shakespearean love stories you had ever read seemed derisory. Mere words of love were not enough, were no longer enough, now that you had tasted the unctuous proof of love from the handsome, touching blond boy who electrified your skin with the slightest touch.

Who needed a trite, dull ‘I love you’, when you had the loving touch of Ominis?

[violet-eng]

f!reader reacts to Zhongli (Morax)! "apoptosis" during Rite of Descension | angst + 🔞 NSFW

So... I've always wondered how Zhongli's close friends (let's pretend he has close friends) would react to his death during the Rite of Descension...

╔══════*.·:·.☽✧  ✦  ✧☾.·:·.*════════╗

Summary: Zhongli and you are a couple, and you know he's Rex Lapis. How would you react if your beloved dragon boyfriend dies in front of your eyes during the Rite of Descension? Or worse yet, how would you react if you found out that he is actually alive?

Tw: Angst (a lot), smut, 🔞, MDNI, p i v, nipple sucking, words of hate during sex (i hate you), mentionsof death.

🎨 by: Nid417 2k words.

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The soft caress of Zhongli's fingers on your forehead woke you up in the morning, bringing you back to the earthly realm and wrenching you from the comfortable sleep you had taken as a reward for your performance the night before. Like every night, Zhongli had abused you in bed, using you until he left his empty balls in your belly. 

The light streaming through the window, the rays of sunshine heralding a new day, brighten your face as you realize that Zhongli has gotten out of bed. You watch him get dressed, the shirt covering his arms, golden marks on his dark skin, the marks of your nails on his back, crimson traces open to the passage of your passion.

"Today is going to be a long day," your ardent lover says as he adjusts his tie, "I'm sorry to have to wake you, it's never my intention to cause you any discomfort, but I'm afraid on this occasion it was absolutely necessary."

"The Rite of Descension is today, I had forgotten," you mention, leaning back on your elbows and rubbing your eyes, the locks of hair falling over the valley of your breasts, the sheet covering you sliding down to your waist, giving Zhongli a magnificent view as he adjusts his pants.

"When it's all over, we should have dinner... and then maybe try our luck at starting a family," he says, though it's hard to make out his words because of the volume of his voice. Zhongli speaks with a tinge of nostalgia, a back and forth of dark feelings and a melancholy aura, he has been in this state for several weeks now.

"I guess there's no point in me asking you again what's wrong with you today," you say, embellishing the sentence with a subtle laugh, sometimes your dear Morax is very secretive about his feelings and manages to become hermetic and unshakable as a rock, today is one of those days.

"I promise you that once the Rite culminates, all your questions will be answered," he says, sitting next to you, caressing the curve of your back and tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. One of Zhongli's favorite images is your face when you wake up...especially the morning after a good fuck. There's something about your puffy eyes that drives him crazy, or the scarlet color on your skin from his teeth the night before that makes him lose his mind, whatever it is, he finds you to be the most charming creature he's ever met in his millennia of existence.

"I only ask you," Zhongli says, continuing the conversation, keeping the cryptic tone he had a few moments ago, "I only ask you not to be afraid, no matter what you see, do not be afraid. I will come back to you no matter what happens”

"You always do," you say as you turn around, your face lit up with a smile and your breasts in full view as you reach out a hand that manages to caress his cheek, "that's our contract, darling, you always come back to me."

Zhongli fiercely fights the desire to fuck you at this moment, these words and this image you have given him.... He takes a deep breath before getting up from the bed, ignoring his instincts. There will be time to indulge your carnal desires.

You know the Rite of Descent in detail, you have witnessed it and heard it performed firsthand. This time there is nothing out of the usual, perhaps a new face or two, but nothing out of the ordinary. You find yourself looking forward to what will happen next, and perhaps during the night you will comment to Zhongli how strange it is to see him in his draconic form, and how sweet you find his empathic act of introducing himself to the....

The rumble of the lifeless body of the Lord of Liyue falling echoes through the place. The offerings table is a mess, and the ensuing uproar even more so. There is talk of murder, the Millelith rushes in pursuit of the suspects, and as the rest of the crowd disperses, you lie in place, frozen, stunned by what you have witnessed. You bring your hands to your chest in a reflex to stop the heartbeat that seems to pierce your skin, the sound of the Millelith's footsteps confused with the thumping rhythm of your heart, your lip trembling and your hands sweating, your trembling fingers clutching the fabric of your clothes, trying to bring you back to reality as you watch the body of your beloved Morax lying lifeless before your eyes.

"Tell Wangsheng Funeral Parlor what happened," Keqing orders you... or is it Ningguang's voice? " Y/n! There's no time to waste, go!"

Much to your chagrin, you find yourself running to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, your eyes on the verge of bitter tears and deep weeping, but you cannot afford to do so, not when you cannot explain your reaction to others. You walk down the stairs, wondering: Did Zhongli's recent attitude mean that he suspected that someone wanted to kill him, and if so, why didn't he trust you? The questions cloud your mind, you stumble over some people while debating with yourself, Zhongli knew it, in short, that's why he had such a mysterious attitude lately, he knew he would abandon you? No, you're cursing yourself, you can't think about him like that, especially now that he's... You can't even think of the word, Morax, Rex Lapis, your beloved Zhongli, is an immortal being who has traveled miles of life, he is a powerful being, the strongest of the gods... or he was... ....

You resign yourself to the facts, to the image of the dragon lying on the rubble, his chest motionless, his eyes lifeless... you had not even been able to say goodbye to him that morning. With regret gnawing at your heart, you burst into Wangsheng's funeral parlor and called out to Hu Tao.

"Rex Lapis," you say with a lump in your throat, as she grabs your arms and asks you to calm down, "Rex Lapis is..." you pause over your words as the figure of your lover emerges from one of the offices.

"Y/n" Hu Tao agitates you, but you are absorbed in the image coming towards you, the way Zhongli hurries to give you a drink.

"He's dead," you manage to finish the sentence without taking your eyes off Zhongli. Hu Tao is shocked by this and laments over such an unfortunate event, delving into theories that could have led to something like this happening.

"There is no reason to jump to conclusions at a time like this," Zhongli suggests, "Ninnguang must need help.

It is Hu Tao who leaves the place at his subordinate's suggestion, leaving him in charge of your welfare, your poor condition being too obvious to the average eye. It is just the two of you in the room, the sound of commotion outside is beyond reproach, but at this moment, you are oblivious to what is going on outside.

Zhongli holds out his coat to you, draping it over your shoulders and adjusting the collar over your chest, you holding the drink he offered you a few moments ago. You analyze him closely, your eyes scanning him in detail, taking in every inch of his image. 

"Y/n," he whispers as he caresses your shoulders, his hands coddling your arms, looking at you like an infant about to cry.

"Zhongli," saying his name feels like breathing out your last breath of life. You bring your hesitant hand to his face, a reflection of your desire to check if what you are observing is real. You press his skin against your palm, and he leans into the familiar touch of your caress.

"My beautiful y/n, I beg your forgiveness" he muses as he moves the cup away from your hands, to take your small limbs between his, kissing your knuckles gingerly.

The gesture causes you to burst into tears, to throw yourself into his arms and release the sea of bitterness and pain that had built up in your chest. Zhongli pulls you close to him, wrapping you in an embrace that he hopes will never break, that he hopes will prove how sorry he is for the hurt he has caused you. You ask him for explanations between sobs, you reproach him for not being clear with you, for letting you believe he was dead, you beat his chest in agony and resentment, and he allows you to do so, if it were up to him, you could actually kill him at that very moment, he deserves no less, not when he has made you shed tears for him so bitterly.

"You should have told me" you whimper, and your legs start to shake. The burning in your chest grows and you feel like you will faint at any moment. Zhongli senses it, senses every change in your organism, so he hurries to ask you to return home.

The road passes in silence, Zhongli has put his arm around your shoulder, and along the way he has showered you with pleas to redeem himself, but you ignore him, you don't even look at him, and that hurts him deeply.

You cross the door and go into the room to lie down on the bed, finally you can no longer use your legs, you have never felt so weak, so useless... You let out the rest of your cry on the pillows, leaning on your hands, your chest heaving for air, the shock hasn't completely left you...

Zhongli approaches you and puts a hand on your back, but you clearly warn him not to come near you, not to touch you, and maybe you are being too hard on him, but it is what you think he deserves. 

"Go away," you order sharply, "you're supposed to be dead... you..." you speak nonsense, it's the pain of shock that overwhelms you.

"What are you saying?" Zhongli exclaims in anguish, searching for your face, though you hide it well for him. He struggles with you, trying to bring you to your senses, "I'm here, my love, it's me... I'm alive," he says, taking your hands and pressing them to his chest, where his desperate heart beats in desperation. You look at him pitifully, your eyes drenched with tears, your lip trembling.

"This is the heart of a living man," he says, "and this is the warmth of a living man's skin," he says, bringing your hands to his neck and chest, unbuttoning his shirt in a desperate act, and as the shock of his desperation strikes your complexion, you seem to snap out of your trance.

"Zhongli..." you finally whisper.

"Here I am, beautiful, I came back for you..." he muses, pressing his forehead against yours.

"You always..." you falter, "you always come back to me," your breath mingles with his, as hot as yours. You rush to his lips, so eager to taste his breath of life, the divinity escaping his mouth like groans as you bite his lip, pressing it harder against your mouth.

"This is our contract," Zhongli says between kisses, a trickle of saliva between the two of you as he removes his shirt and your clothes.

He fucks you with anger, with desire and a burning he didn't know he was holding back. And you scream, your moans high and boisterous, not caring what is happening outside or how sacrilegious it is that you are fucking while everyone outside is suffering the death of Rex Lapis... the same Rex Lapis who is pounding on your cervix with fervor and enormous force, the same one who is massaging your clitoris while sucking on one of your nipples.

"I hate you," you spit angrily, drowning out your moans as you cling to his arms.

"It's what I deserve," he says, just as vulgar as you, sonorous and quite vocal, resting one of your legs on his shoulders, "hate me all you want, y/n, but then scream my name when you cum and when you give birth to our children."

"You bastard," you moan as your fingernails leave scarlet marks on his sculpted shoulders, "don't stop.... Zhongli, don't stop," the way he pounds you is delicious and your guts know it as they twist in a hot knot as his cock makes its way into your pussy.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he repeats, not stopping his assault, settling on top of you to look at the bulge rising in your belly where his cock is abusing you. He puts one of his hands on yours, the other massaging your thigh and the flesh on his shoulder, looking at you with a devotion that you do not recognize, as if you were a treasure, a goddess....

His hips crash mercilessly against yours, and you, as spiteful as you are horny, can't help but make the most vulgar sounds you can. You feel Zhongli's balls slapping against your skin, the frantic movement in and out of your pussy, the way something inside you seems to snap from the force of his penetration. He has you wide open for him, fully exposed, and he gives himself to you like the devotee he is when he fucks you, seeking only your pleasure.

"Zhongli..." you moan as one of your fingers gently caresses the line that divides his scarred abdomen, your digit running down the valley of his rock hard muscles....

"Let me take care of you, darling," he says, taking your hand and planting a kiss on the back of it, leaning down to capture your lips with his mouth. His tongue penetrates the roof of your mouth and you feel your throat receive the visit of such a welcome guest.

Zhongli turns you over, your body snug against the sheets, your face deep in the mattress, and he on top of you. He continues to stir your loins as he lets his chest fall on your back, his face sinking into your shoulder, and you feel that this way, so close to him, he has better access to you. His cock twists in your favorite spot, the one that makes you let out a yelp and reach out a hand for support, grasping the silk between your fingers. Zhongli intertwines his hand with yours, and there, trapped beneath his body, at the mercy of his relentless assault, he whispers a "I love you" with deep regret.

"Zhongli," you moan, completely trapped between the bed and how well he is fucking you, your hands trapped in his, "I love you...damn it...I love you," you cry out as you convulse beneath him, your orgasm erupting as he bathes your velvety walls with his white seed.

You turn your face to breathe. Zhongli doesn't let go or leave you. You stay like this for a moment, enjoying the heat the other gives off. Zhongli kisses your shoulder blade and you feel the remains of his cum leave you as he pulls his cock out of your abused hole. The empty feeling makes you moan. He doesn't let go of you at any point, clinging to you as he lies down and sets you beside him, wrapping you in his arms, securing you in an embrace as he leaves deep kisses on the back of your neck and shoulder. Your chest heaves for air, the ecstasy you feel is unlike anything you have experienced before, no previous encounter has ever been like this.

"I didn't mean it," you say, your voice hoarse, your throat scratchy from shouting, "I don't hate you...I couldn't," you turn to him, meeting amber eyes that look at you with calm and deep regret.

"Do you forgive me?" he asks in a sweet, syrupy, insistent tone. 

"My dear Morax," you whisper, taking refuge in his chest, "I forgave you the moment I felt your aching heart beat with concern for me."

These words are enough for Zhongli to ease the weight he was carrying so that he can rest his chin on your head and breathe in the scent of your hair, mixed with the smell of sex in the room.

He strokes your back, running his fingers over your small human form, downplaying the commotion outside, focusing only on you and your well-being....

[sturniqlo]

GRAMMYS- CHRIS STURN

summary: chris is singer!y/n plus one to the grammys, he can't help but be proud of her and her accomplishments.

cw: mild cursing, FLUFF

an: olivia rodrigo will be the fc for this but feel free to imagine who ever you'd like! also, i just love social media fics so much, this is also a social media fic!! it's a long one and it's officially my favorite thing i've ever written!!

masterlist

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Following the release of her second album. Y/n has been nominated for three awards at this years Grammys. She's been nominated for the following categories; Best Pop Album, Record of the Year, and Song of the Year. When Y/n had found out she was nominated for three Grammys she was over the moon. "Holy shit, Chris!" With Chris next to her, on their daily walk, they jumped up and down, Chris picked her up and spun her around and kissed her face. "I'm so proud of you!" Later that night, Y/n and the triplets went out for dinner to celebrate her nominations.

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Two years ago, she had won two Grammys for her debut album, one for Music Video of the Year, and Best New Artist. Unfortunately, Chris and her were only friends at the time so her plus one was her mom, which she was still excited to share that special moment with her, but Chris was happily watching at home with his brothers and other friends cheering her on. Luckily, this time Y/n asked Chris to be her plus one to this years Grammys. "Of course I will!" He said giddily. Later that week, Y/n's manager had called her and told her she was invited to perform. "Are you serious? I- yea!" When she hung up and squealed and ran to Chris who was brushing his teeth. "Chris, you'll never guess what happened!"

It was the night before the Grammys and Y/n's team booked her and Chris a hotel room close to the arena where the Grammys were going to be held. "Do you want to go out for dinner, baby?" Chris rubbed Y/n's shoulders as she laid on his chest, controller in hand flipping through the channels on the tv. "Please, I'm starving." She turned off the television and threw the controller somewhere on the bed.

Y/n cuddled Chris, moving on top of him to bury her face into his neck, placing a few light kisses along his skin. "You nervous for tomorrow?" She asked, lifting her head off to look at him. "No, I don't see a reason to be nervous." He giggled. "Just don't pick your nose, or do anything that will make you feel embarrassed on live, national television." She teased him. Y/n felt him tense under her. "Baby, you can say that. Now I'm starting to overthink." He whined. "I'm kidding" She laughed into his neck. "Come on, let's go to dinner." She patted his chest as she got off of him and made her way to the bathroom.

At dinner, a couple of fans went up to both Y/n and Chris. They took a picture with each one and then one together with both of them. There was also a paparazzi outside the restaurant they were at. Luckily, he was a nice guy just trying to do his job, unlike other paps they've ran into in the past who asked invasive questions, harassed them when they wouldn't stop to pose for them, and pushed them to get a picture. They stopped and had a small conversation with him, and even offered him dinner which he kindly declined.

Y/n and Chris took a stroll around downtown, surprisingly the streets were pretty empty and they could enjoy a nice walk together before a hectic day. "I've never seen LA so empty before." Chris said, swinging their intertwined hands back and forth. "I was about to say that." She looked at him with a smile. Y/n loved intimate moments like these, just the two of them with no interruptions. "You're so pretty." Chris stopped and grabbed both of her hands and brought them to his chest.

"Chris." She whines, trying to hide her face in his chest. "Don't hide from me, let me see you." He lets go of her hands to gently grab her face. Face to face, she's beat red. As much as she loved the compliments he never failed to make her blush and same with him. "See, look at you. So beautiful. Can't wait to see you all dolled up tomorrow. Walking down the red carpet. Going up on the stage to perform, to win all three Grammys." He planted a kiss on her lips. Y/n couldn't stop smiling that she cheeks hurt. "Baby, you don't know if I'll even win or not." Chris hated when she doubted herself especially when it came to her music. "I know you will. Tell me, have I ever been wrong about any other award ceremony?" Every award show Y/n has even been invited to, she always won every category she was nominated for. She shook her head.

"Exactly, this time is no different. By this time tomorrow night, I'll be able to tell the world that my girlfriend is a five time grammy award winner."

Going back to their hotel, Y/n was skipping down the streets as Chris jogged lightly behind her giggling like high school teenagers hanging out for the first time. Chris stops jogging, and pulls his phone out to capture a picture of her. "Babe, look!" He says to her. As she turns to him, he takes picture. "Let me see!" She skips to him as he goes to the picture. "Send that to me!" She gasps.

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The next morning, Y/n's alarm blared at the crack of dawn. "Turn it off." Chris mumbled his morning voice making an appearance. He rolls closer to her and tucks his face into Y/n's neck who is sleepily trying to reach for her phone to turn it off. "I'm trying." She yawns, finally grabbing her phone and shutting off the alarm. "What time is it?" Chris picks his head up and yawns, running a hand through his messy hair. "six thirty." She says, throwing her phone next to her and wrapping her arm around Chris' bare torso. "Ughh!" He groans. Y/n stifles a laugh. "I don't think I've ever been up this early since the Billboard Awards." He leans his head on hers.

"Stop being dramatic." She giggles. After few minutes pass and Chris is slowly dozing off before he feels Y/n get off the bed. "Where are you going?" He asks, shielding his eyes from the bright sun that is entering the room. "The bathroom." She slips her slippers on and stretches. "Can you bring me a robe? I want to wear it. Wait, nevermind I'll go with you." He grunts as he gets up and walks towards the door where Y/n is waiting. Exiting the bedroom, they walk through the living area, the room being lit with sunlight, considering that they're in a high rise and there's no blinds in that area. "Woah! If I wasn't awake before I am now."

They take turns using the toilet, trying to wake up fully as they waited for one another. "Do you want a robe?" Chris asks, as he ties the robe closed. Y/n nods. "Why not?" He hands the last one to her and she slips it on, feeling the soft material on the parts her sport bra and sleeping shorts don't cover. "Soft, isn't it?" He hugs himself. "It really is." She does the same. They look at each other and laugh. As routine, they brush their teeth together and Chris takes his phone and hands it to her so she can take a picture.

"Room service?" Y/n asks Chris as they sit on the dining table provided for them. "Yes, let me get the menu." Chris gets up and runs to where he saw the menus earlier. "I'll have whatever you get." He tells her. Y/n picks up the phone and dials the room service number. Chris stares at her, blurring out her voice as he just stares. When she finishes, Chris realizes something and gasps. "What?!" Y/n gets startled. "We haven't kissed at all this morning." He says. "I thought it was something serious!" She gentry swats his robe covered arm.

"This is serious! Come here." He grabs her chin and kisses her.

A knock at the door breaks their small conversation of what today will look like. "I'll get it." Chris gets up placing a kiss on her cheek before going to the door. "Hello, good morning!" Y/n hears Chris greet whoever is at the door. "I can take it from here, thank you so much. Enjoy your day." Chris comes back in the room with a tray full of food. "Breakfast is here." He carefully places the tray down. All four plates are covered with a cloche. Chris places two in front of her and uncovers them. "Ta-da!" He says, Y/n giggles. "Thank you, Chris." She leans over to grab utensils and syrup for her waffles. "Im assuming I got the same." Y/n nods at him as she digs in her food.

"What time is everyone getting here?" Chris questions. "Rudy is coming here at nine to pick us up for sound check. And then we're coming back here at around eleven. My stylist, hairstylist, makeup artist, and photographer are getting here at twelve so we can both start getting ready."

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At soundcheck, Y/n and Chris spotted all of the other artists who were performing. And they were starstruck to say the least. They saw Harry Styles, which Y/n was over the moon for although she had met him a few times and needed a minute after those interactions, Billie Eilish also sound checked and both of them took a picture sneakily and sent it to the group chat with Matt and Nick. At home Nick was going crazy. They also saw H.E.R, Jack Harlow, and Lil Nas X.

"Alright, Y/n, you're up!" Her manager, Rudy, stood up to walk her backstage so she can get mic'd up. "I'll be back." Y/n kissed Chris as she walked away. He waited patiently, excited to know what songs she was going to since. She hadn't told him yet, but all he knew is she was going to sing a mashup of two songs. He stared at the stage, seeing her band members tuning up their instruments and playing a light beat. "Guitar needs to be turned up a bit." Someone working for the production yelled. As Sage, her guitarist kept playing a light strum he heard it get louder. "That's good!" They did that with the rest of the band and their instruments.

Finally, Y/n came out on the stage and waved at Chris. "Ready?" The same guy spoke to Y/n through around mic. "Ready!" She held up a thumbs up. "Alright test the mic." Y/n cleared her throat. "Testing one two three, three, two, one." She spoke, her voice could now be heard throughout the arena. "Turn it up just a tad more." The same man spoke. "Keep going." He said to Y/n. Repeating the same words her voice got louder. "Perfect! Now, let's hear her and the band together. Band, whenever you're ready."

The band started to play a light melody Chris soon realized what the song was, Invisible String, which was one of his favorite songs by her. It was about their relationship, and how they had certain moments in their lives that connected them to one another. Y/n, who grew up in New York had family in Massachusetts where Chris was specifically from and she would frequently visit them. Her career had just started at the age of sixteen so she would get stopped by a few people in his small town. However, years later they realized just how often they were face to face at the frozen yogurt shop Chris worked at. Eventually, they met again in LA at a movie premiere.

Before she got halfway through the song, the beat changed and turned into a new song. Pov, which was also about him and was her most popular song from her new album which was also nominated for both Record of the Year and Song of the Year. After soundcheck, they stopped by a spot to pick up a quick lunch to eat back at their hotel. They had a good half hour to eat until everyone would arrive. Y/n, Chris, and Rudy all ate their lunch and had a fun conversation about certain conspiracy theories.

Forty minutes later, their hotel room was full of people running back and forth from Y/n. Chris was first to get ready since he didn't need much. He just got his hair styled and his clothes fitted. He was memorized by Y/n, she would occasionally glance at him and wink making him giddy.

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"I'm nervous!" Y/n places her gloved hand on Chris' bouncing knee. "Why? It's just like any other award show." Chris looks at her. "It's the Grammys! And there's way more people watching plus we're sitting near the front and we'll be in the shots throughout the whole night. I'm going to embarrass myself." She regrets telling him what she did last night. "Baby, I was only kidding about what I said last night. You're not going to embarrass yourself, I promise. Okay?" She places a kiss on his cheek. "Okay, okay." The car comes to a halt and the driver up front tells them they have arrived.

"Ready to head out?" Chris nods. They get out and they are met with the red carpet, there's many artist walking on and stopping for pictures. "Hello, you must be Y/n and Christopher!" A lady in a suit speaks. "Hi, that's us." Y/n giggles, grabbing Chris' hand. "It's nice to meet you, let's get you two checked in! Follow me." They get checked in and get informed what time Y/n will be pulled out to get charged into her performance outfit. "Alright, you guys are ready for the carpet. I'm pretty sure your manager went over these things but you're free to ignore any questions you don't feel comfortable answering and also you can skip interviews but it's all up to you."

During the red carpet, they took pictures alone and together. Y/n decided that she did want to do interviews. "Here, let's do some interviews." She leaded Chris towards the interview section. "Y/n! Over here!" They both looked who called her and they're met with Liza Koshy. "Liza!" Y/n squealed. "Look at you, you're gorgeous!" Liza hugged her. "And you must be Chris, it's nice to meet you, I love watching your videos with your brothers." Chris thanked her.

"Can I interview you, Chris?" Chris froze. "Oh- uh, sure." Y/n smiles, watching Chris as he does his very first interview. "Excuse me, Y/n! Can we interview you for E!" A man dressed in a suit asks. "Of course!" During the interview, Chris walks behind and her and gets out of the shot. "He looks a bit nervous." The interviewer says. Y/n giggles, "He just had his first interview."

"You did great, babe!" Y/n tells Chris as they walk inside the arena to find their table. "You think so?" He asks. "I know so!" Soon, they find their table, remembering they saw their name cards on a table yesterday as they were setting them up. "Wait, look who's sitting there!" Y/! stops. "Who?" He's confused. "It's Harry!" Chris looks and it's enough there he is. "Holy shit! I'm going to be sitting next to him." Y/n gives him a stare. "Lucky, motherfucker."

"Hey, you be sitting next to the Christopher Sturniolo." He laughs. As they get to their table, they greet the people who have been hired to be sit ins at tables. "Hello!" A british voice says next to Chris. "Oh! Hello, I'm Chris!" He greets Harry. "You're Y/n's boyfriend, correct?" Chris nods. "I thought so, I saw you two here yesterday during soundcheck. She was amazing."

"Next up, please welcome grammy award winner and nominee, Y/n." Chris quickly stands up and starts recording on his phone. "Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park, I used to think I'd meet somebody there." Y/n's voice can be heard throughout the area. Chris can hear the crowd above in the seats singing along. "And isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some, invisible string, tying you to me?" Y/n looks over at Chris and points at him and then points at her.

She keeps singing the song for a couple more seconds before switching songs. "I wanna love me, the way that you love me." Chris doesn't notice but, a cameraman pans the camera to him and everyone watching at home got a scene of Chris smiling at her.

"You did great!" Chris tells Y/n as she returns back to her seat in her dress she had in before. "Thank you, I was so nervous!" Chris hugs Y/n. "I recorded the whole thing." He kisses her temple.

Minutes go by, performances go by and awards go by until it's time for Y/n's first category she is nominated in. "You got this, babe." He grabs her gloved hand and rubs his thumb over her knuckles. "And the Grammy for Best Pop Album goes to..." Dua Lipa says into the mic before opening the envelope. She sees who the winner is and nods her head smiling. "Y/n for her album Heart Beats" Y/n freezes in her seat and Chris jumps in his seat grabbing her hand and kissing it. "Babe, you won! Holy shit!" Seconds later, Y/n turns to Chris and they both get up. "Go up there, 'M so proud of you." He hugs her tightly rocking her side to side. "Oh my god, Chris." She grabs his face and kisses him quickly before walking up to get her award.

She hears one of her songs playing throughout the arena and covers her mouth. Soon she reaches the stairs carefully going up them. Dua Lipa meets her half way and gives her, her Grammy. "Congrats!" Dua pulls her into a hug. She stands to the side, and Y/n goes up to the mic, "Oh my- I- I want to start off by saying thank you to the recording academy for this award. I would also like to thank every single person who made this album possible, from the producers to my band and the person who inspired this whole album." She looks over at Chris who is recording but his head is turned away from his phone, looking directly at her and they both blush. "And I want to take a moment to thanks my fans, my supporters, my listeners this," She holds up the Grammy. "wouldn't be possible without you guys or your support. Thank you so so much! Lastly, thank you to my family, my friends, and my boyfriend for always believing in me and showing me endless love and support. I love you guys. Thank you!" She holds up her Grammy, before walking away backstage.

Her manager, Rudy, is waiting for her backstage. "Congrats, kid! Only two more to go!" He gives her a side hug and grabs the Grammy for her to put it in a safe spot before she goes back to sit down. "You did amazing!" Chris wraps his left arm around her and rubs her shoulder. "I was so nervous, sorry if I kept weird eye contact with you." She leans her head on his shoulder. "Only two more to go!" Suddenly and ring covered fist appears in front of Y/n. She realizes the familiar cross tattoo and lifts her head off Chris' shoulder. "Congrats, Y/n" She bumps Harry Styles' fist. "Thank you so much, Harry!" All three of them keep a conversation going until it's time for that last four awards. Y/n was surprised to hear that Chris and Harry had several conversations while she was up out of her seat. She even found out they took a picture together.

"And now, the winner for this year Song of the Year is..." Jared Leto opens the envelope. Chris, once again hold her hand. "Pov, by Y/n" Y/n throws her face into Chris' neck. The crowd erupts in claps and cheers. "Holy shit." She laughs. "You did it again! Song of the fucking Year!" Chris says, kissing her lips and getting up to hug her. She wipes her eye, and walks past Harry who pulls her into a hug. Walking up to the stage, she receives the Grammy from Jared and goes up to the mic. "Wow, hello again." She giggles. "Once again thank you to everyone in the recording academy for choosing me out of all of the other great artists. I'm incredibly grateful for even being here. I want to thank my producer, Fred, who helped me add some lyrics to this song. Thank you, Fred. ."

"I would like to dedicate this award to the person who inspired this whole song, and anything and everything I write, is my boyfriend Chris, without him I really wouldn't have been able to write this song. He is my muse, my best friend, my everything, he's really made me a better version of myself. I think I'd be lost without him. He also is truly one of my biggest supporters. Chris thank you for always being proud of me, for showing me what true love really is. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She smiles bowing a kiss in Chris' direction before walking off the stage.

By this time, Chris can't stop smiling, his cheeks are completely red from how much he's blushed and his eyes are glossed over from her heartwarming words. "I love you so so much." Is the first thing he said to her as she sat back down. "I love you more."

"Now, the grammy for Record of the Year goes to, this is a big one." Trevor Noah, the hosts says before opening the envelope. "Aha, Y/n! Pov!" Y/n gasps and turns to Chris. "My five time grammy winning girlfriend! You're amazing!" Chris engulfs her in a hug. "Chris, oh my god! This is actually insane." Y/n cant believe that she won all three grammys she was nominated for.

"This- this is absolutely insane. Wow," She blows air out. "I did some research when I got nominated for this grammy and found out this is for the best sounding song, which now blows my mind that I won. Thank you, recording academy. I also want to thank my producer once again, Fred, unfortunately he couldn't be here today. Also, thank you to the engineers and mixers, Jack, Travis, and Pat for their incredible support on the song. My band, Sage, Derick, Eve, Angel for playing the instruments on this song beautifully. And my mastering engineer Delaney. My team, everyone at Columbia Records. Just, thank you, to everyone who has ever and always supported me! Thank you so much! Goodnight!" She holds her Grammy up and walks away.

Back at the hotel, Y/n and Chris were exhausted to say the least. They decided to skip on the after parties and just stay huddled up in their room before they returned to their respective home the next morning. "I can't believe I won all three Grammys." She says as she wipes off her makeup sitting on the bed. "I told you, I'm never wrong when it comes to your awards." Chris grabs one of the three Grammys off the bed and reads the engraved words.

National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences

Y/n Y/l/n- Artist/Producer

Best Pop Album

"Now you can put these next to the other two you have on your bookshelf." He says grabbing all three carefully and placing them on the dresser that was provided. "Do you want to keep one?" Y/n says out of the blue. "What?" He says shocked. "Yeah, do you want the Song of the Year one? I like to call it your song. So it's your Song of the Year." She explains tossing the dirty makeup wipes in the small trash can near the bed. "But it's your Grammy." Chris says, walking over to her. "And it's your song." She adds on. "Are you sure?" Chris asks. "I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't." She smiles. "Okay, I'll take it and put it next to my Y/n shrine." They both laugh.

"Have I told you how much I'm proud of you?" Chris teases. "You've told me once or twice." She nods, smiling. "Well, that's not enough. I really am so proud of you. Like so much I can't put into words."

"Thank you, Chris. I love you."

extras!

[russo-woso]

This isn’t a good idea || Leah Williamson

Warning smut 18+, fingering, public setting

Based on this request here. Thank you for the idea :)

Summary You and Leah decide to take a risk

You knew from the moment you woke up how the day would end.

From the minute you opened your eyes, you knew you’d wake up tomorrow morning without the ability to walk.

Leah loved milestones.

First kiss.

First date.

First anniversary.

But this one was the biggest one so far in her opinion.

Your fifth anniversary.

Five years ago, you and Leah became a couple and that was a major thing is Leah’s eyes, and yours.

For the past three weeks, Leah had been telling you that she had planned the whole day for the two of you.

From the moment you woke up, to the moment you close your eyes.

So when Leah woke you up early on the day of your anniversary, you knew it was going to be a hectic but loving day.

“Babe, wake up.” Leah whispered, pressing kisses to your exposed collarbones, which just happened to be covered in light purple bruises from a few nights ago.

“Hi, baby.” You said, quietly, a big smile appearing on your face as you saw Leah.

“Happy anniversary, love.” Leah told you, pressing her lips on yours.

“Happy anniversary, Leah.” You mumble before kissing her again.

"Are you ready for today?" Leah asked, a cheeky grin resting on her face.

"Well, I will be when you tell me what we're doing." You reply, excitedly.

You were excited because for the last three weeks, Leah kept teasing you about what you were going to be doing but then when it came to you asking, Leah would refuse to reveal it.

But this time, instead of not telling you, Leah was going to tell you.

"We're going to jump in the shower together, then we're going to the spa for the morning. After a relaxing morning, we're going to go shopping. Whatever shops you want to go to, you can buy whatever you want, on my card, including a new outfit for dinner tonight at the new Italian place that you've been wanting to try." Leah explained and you couldn't help but smile at her excitement that showed whilst telling you.

"You don't have to spoil me, baby."

"Of course I do, love. You spoil me everyday. Let me just have a day so I can spoil you." Leah told you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, gently massaging it.

"Thank you, Le." You said, before she grabbed a hold of your hips, pulling you onto her hips.

Placing her lips on your exposed chest, Leah started to rock your body back and fourth on her thighs.

You rolled your head back due to the contact, a stifled sigh leaving your mouth.

"Le, please don't start something you can't finish." You told her, coming to realisation that this would probably have to wait until later.

"It's just a warm up for later, love." Leah smirked, playfully winking at you before guiding you to your en-suite bathroom.

_______

The day had gone perfectly.

Just as Leah said, the morning was relaxing. You enjoyed your time at the spa, using it wisely to unwind.

After a nice couples massage, you and Leah drove into the centre of London, stopping off at several shops to pick up the perfect outfits for your date.

You decided to go for a simple dress that showed some cleavage whereas Leah bought a new brown suit, that you loved.

Once you'd finished shopping, you made your way home, getting ready before making your way to the restaurant.

You and Leah sat down and ordered your meals along with a bottle of red wine.

"You look gorgeous tonight, love." Leah complimented, leaning in close to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"So do you, baby." You replied back, taking a sip of red wine.

As the night went on, you couldn't help but notice Leah's wandering hand travelling up your thigh.

At first, it was an innocent hand placement, she gently squeezed it as you continued your conversation with her.

It was something she always did, but as you ate, it travelled further and further up until eventually you had to take it away and place it in its original place.

You'd already finished eating once her hand started travelling again.

After a while, her fingers laid just under your dress, slightly moving the fabric further up your thigh.

"Le, stop it. Don't start something you can't finish." You repeated your words from earlier, sending Leah a warning look.

"Who says I can't finish this?" Leah asked rhetorically and you shook your head at her.

"Leah... not here, not now."

You were lying if you said you didn't want it because, truth be told, you'd been waiting all day, but not in the middle of a busy restaurant with waiters walking past every few seconds and people surrounding you.

"Come on, babe. No one will know. Just keep quiet." Leah whispered in your ear, her fingers circling your covered clit.

She moved your underwear to the side, swiping her fingers through your folds.

"You're soaked, pretty girl." Leah muttered, taking a sip from her glass.

From a person walking by's view, it looked like a couple having dinner, but from your view, you could see Leah knuckle deep inside you.

"Fuck, Le." You breathed out, unable to make a noise due to the life surrounding you.

"You look so beautiful like this, love. When we get home, I'm gonna fuck you so good. So good that you'll be screaming my name."

Leah, teasingly, slowed down her pace to stop your orgasm from approaching.

"Please, le. Please, I want to cum. I want to cum on your fingers." You begged and Leah obliged, speeding up the pace of her fingers.

Leah continued to thrust her fingers in and out you before curling them.

You grabbed a hold of her bicep as you felt your orgasm approaching.

Leah pulled you in for a mind numbing kiss, her lips smashing into yours.

The lingering taste of red wine on her lips had you in a chokehold.

The smell of her perfume had intoxicated you.

the feeling of her fingers in your pussy had you shattering into millions of pieces.

Leah kept her lips on yours until you came. She wanted to swallow all your orgasmic sounds that escaped your lips.

"Fuck." was all you said as you broke your lips from hers, looking in her eyes to see her eyes full of lust.

Leah pulled her fingers out of your pussy, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact, and bought them to her mouth.

She let out a small hum of satisfaction as she licked her fingers clean.

"I don't think i'll be needing desert, do you?"

[rivalsispunk]

Beneath The Surface (Chapter 2 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Series summary: Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), mention of male appendages (IYKYK), more warnings added per chapter

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter summary: Declan grapples with the risk of hiring you while you grapple with whether or not you're good enough. Once the verdict is in, you both realise you may have jumped in feet first a little too hastily.

A/N: Things are heating up in more ways than one and I am soooo ready for you guys to meet the silently unhinged Declan... Oh, and in this universe, Declan did end up interviewing Margaret Thatcher. Also not entirely proofread so may be some mistakes. Happy reading!

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter Two: Beneath The Surface

“A promise of secrecy was of course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous love.”

You’ve spent the last half hour reading, then rereading, the same page of Pride and Prejudice, your creature-comfort book since you were a young teenager. Normally, you’d be able to recite the passage from memory by now, but your mind has been elsewhere than focussed on the words in front of you. It’s been over a week since your interview with Declan and you’ve heard nothing. Zilch. Nada. For days, your brain has been stuck in a constant loop of questions you’ve no answers for.

Why hasn’t he called? 

Why haven’t you heard anything? 

Did he find someone better?

That last one has been the most burning question of them all, coupled with the memory of Declan’s gravelly voice telling you, I’d be lucky to have ya.

So, why hasn’t he called?

It’s not lost on you that you sound more like a needy girl hanging out for a guy after a date than someone waiting to hear back about a job you weren’t even sure you wanted until the moment you were sat in his office. But you do want it.

The job, that is.

Taggie was none the wiser, too. She’d told you her father had barely given her an inkling of where his head was at, and that he remained suspiciously mum on the outcome of the interviews he’d had in the days succeeding yours. “I think he’s just been busy,” she countered, mentioning that Declan had been on edge in the lead up and preparation for his televised interview with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. You were well aware, and knew how much the opportunity meant to him, so you’d made a conscious effort to stay away from The Priory, as not to overwhelm Declan or put any additional pressure on him to make a decision about the assistant position. Instead, you’d met Taggie in town for afternoon tea on the days she wasn’t preparing for an event, or a meal at Bar Sinister when time called for a catch up. But the Thatcher interview was days ago now — a roaring success with both viewers and ratings — and you were getting restless for news.

Slamming your worn out copy of Pride and Prejudice shut, you reach for the phone by your bedside and dial your best friend for what feels like the fiftieth time this week. You’ve called The Priory so often in recent days that she doesn’t even say hello when she answers.

“Still no word yet,” she sighs down the line. “He’s in an awful mood tonight, though. Went straight up to his office when he got home, refused dinner. I think Mummy being away is getting to him.”

You hum in agreement, not that you have any real insight on the matter. “I’m sure he’s fine, Tag. Probably tired of putting up with that Tony Baddingam’s shit. I told you what a right arse he was to your dad when I was there, didn’t you?”

“You did. Honestly, I didn’t think about anyone else at Corinium when I suggested you work for Daddy. It’s one thing for you to be under him, but to be at the beck and call of Lord Baddingham, too?” You practically hear Tag shudder down the line. “Makes me feel ill the way he treats the women who work for him.”

You push aside any runaway thoughts elicited by Taggie’s mention of you under Declan and shrug. “It’s fine, Tag. I’ve dealt with enough Baddinghams in my time to know to tread carefully.” You pull the phone cable taut and pluck it with your finger. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve got the job anyway. I should have heard by now.”

In the room above Taggie, Declan stubs out his cigarette, reclining in his office chair as he listens to his daughter’s voice reverberate through the house. One final plume of smoke emerges from the pile of ashes and butts that have accumulated in the tray over the last twenty-four hours. He ought to be prepping for his next TV interview, a fairly benign chat with a local farmer who has grand plans for the land on the outskirts of the Cotswolds. A piece of cake, he’d told Tony earlier today when he was asked how his preparation was coming. However, he’d flicked through his notes and research God knows how many times this evening, yet couldn’t recall one lick of fact about his upcoming subject. Instead, he’d spent hours — no, days — agonising over whether he should hire you. His producer, Cameron Cook, was breathing down his neck for him to hire someone so he was spread less thin, but it’s not an easy task. On paper, you’re the perfect choice. Hell, in reality, you’re the perfect choice. Still, he prayed that one of the interviewees after you would prove better candidates (and notably male), but no one measured up to you. Sure, they were intelligent. Passionate, somewhat. But then there was you; intelligent and passionate, and looking far too delectable in that bloody skirt that belongs to his fucking wife. Yes, his wife — that’s if she still even wants to be called that — who’s been gone for weeks without as much as a phone call or letter to the house. Their son, Patrick, had mentioned that she’d phoned a couple of weeks ago to inform him she was back in the city, but spared their university-bound child the details of her whereabouts. Declan loves Maud, despite her shortcomings — of which there are many — but he couldn’t help but resent his wife for her absence, and moreover, for the constant dull ache that had been burdening his cock since seeing her skirt on you. He rationalised that if Maud was here, he wouldn’t be up at night thinking obscene thoughts about his daughter’s best friend who had showed up to his office all smiles and curves in his wife’s long-forgotten hand-me-downs. Every time Declan closes his eyes he sees the shallow dimple that adorns your left cheek. He gets random flashbacks of that black lace bra he imagines holds perfect breasts, if he just allows his mind to wander.

He flexes his hand in an attempt to rid it of the itch that’s been daring him to relieve himself ever since you left his Corinium office. There have been countless instances over the last week where he wondered if he just gave in — just a little, just a stroke, something, anything — that the ache will go away. But there’s a bigger part of him that’s afraid that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop, and then how will he ever be able to face you again? Face Taggie again, knowing the pure filth that’s taken him over in the moments when he’s alone?

Cameron had demanded that afternoon that he chooses someone to pick up his slack by the weekend so help her God or she’ll stick him with an intern with more boobs for brains, and he knows — he knows — he can’t be stuck with someone with the same level IQ as a stale loaf of bread. He’d combust. So, against his better judgement, he decides as he lights yet another cigarette, that he’ll offer you the job as his assistant.

So help him God.

The phone rang just after half seven as you took your first bite of marmite toast. “Do you want the good news or the best news first?” You wince at Taggie’s chirpiness so early in the morning.

“Umm, best ‘til last,” you option. “Good news first.”

“Well, I’m making shepherd’s pie for dinner and you’re coming over.”

“Alright,” you giggle. “And the other news?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating you making shepherd’s pie?”

“No, you nitwit! We’re celebrating you! You got the job! Daddy just told me on his way out this morning.”

Your chair whines against the floorboards of your flat as you shoot to your feet. “I got the job?”

“You got the job!” Taggie shrieks down the line. “Daddy said he was going to phone you when he gets to the office but I couldn’t wait to tell you myself. I know you’ve been anxious waiting to hear back.”

“Oh, Tag, I can’t believe it! I really thought he’d found someone more suited,” you express, cheeks pinching with a grin.

“He said he was very impressed with you,” your friend continues, voice laced with pride. “He also suggested we go shopping for some new officewear.”

“So, he hated my outfit, is what you’re saying.” Him and everybody else at that bloody station.

“No, it’s not that. I think him seeing you in Mummy’s clothes freaked him out a little, is all,” Taggie confesses. “He’s been a bit all over the shop since she’s been gone and I suppose when it comes to her, out of sight, out of mind is best.”

You think back to Declan spluttering his tea everywhere during your interview, and his little explosion afterwards. It makes sense that he doesn’t wanted be reminded of the woman who stepped out on him. You were just glad his reaction wasn’t to something you had done.

You and Taggie chat for a few minutes more about potential shopping destinations and your plans for the day before she rushes through a goodbye, eager to get to the market to pick up groceries for your celebratory meal. An hour later, Declan calls.

“Morning, it’s Declan,” he says, words stifled by the cigarette between his lips. “Declan O’Hara.”

You bite down a smile at the unnecessary clarification. You do the same to thwart your enthusiasm at finally receiving his call. “Hiya. It’s nice to hear from you. How’re you this morning, Declan?”

“Yeah, good, good. Tony’s riding my arse as per usual but other than that, good.” Silence reigns as you wait for Declan to relay the good news. After a moment, he clears his throat like he just remembered you’re on the other end of the line. “Look, I don’t have long, but I wanted to give you a bell to let you know the assistant job is yours. If you want it.”

Although you were already aware of the job offer, you do a happy jig in your kitchen. “Yes, thank you! Of course, I accept.”

“Great. Does Monday work as a start date?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be there. Thank you, Declan.”

“Welcome. Chat soon.”

The line goes dead not second later, and while you’re still overcome with excitement about the new job, your chat with your new boss seemed off. Declan seemed off. Far removed from the chatty, friendly man you sat across from at Corinium just days ago. But like he said, Tony was on his back. He’s probably just… tense.

It becomes clear to Declan as he watches you and Taggie move seamlessly around the kitchen while clearing up after dinner that you’re effervescent. Far more than he’s ever noticed, in all the times you’ve visited his daughter over the recent months, and it bothers him. He hated how his pulse quickened at the sight of you on his doorstep two hours earlier, David Bowie T-shirt peeking out from beneath your checkered coat. If you were at least the tiniest bit irksome or slow-witted or just plain dull, he’d be able to reckon with the fact that his reaction to you was purely chemical. Just another man taken by a young woman’s good looks. But then again, if he found you any of those things, he wouldn’t dare allow you anywhere near his work, near his research. Nor would he be impressed with his daughter adopting a friend as such, either. 

Your laughter trills, egged on by the celebratory champagne Taggie had provided, and Declan catches the tailend of his daughter flinging a handful of dishsoap suds in your direction. You were a good girl, a good friend, being there for Taggie in the last few months. Always willing to lend a hand, or an ear, certainly a shoulder to cry on more than Declan liked to think about or admit. But you were just that: a girl. A girl who was now his assistant. He’ll be damned if he were to become another man at Corinium taking advantage of that power imbalance, which is why he replaces his glass of bubbles with a whiskey and retires to his office after supper, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s forehead as he goes.

You decide to sleepover at The Priory after consuming a few too many glasses of champagne for it be considered safe to drive home. Although, sleepover may be too generous of a word because you’ve barely slept a wink since sinking into bed beside Taggie over an hour ago. Your friend, however, had no trouble drifting off, only to start snoring so loudly the whole bed vibrates. You’ve already tried covering your head with a pillow and the counting backwards from one hundred trick to coax yourself to sleep, but it’s no use. You slide out from under the poppy-printed covers and tip-toe downstairs in a sweater hanging on the back of Taggie’s bedroom door. You’re swimming in the woollen brown garment. It falls to mid-thigh and is sleeves are at least half an arm-length too long, but it keeps the chill at bay when you swing open The Priory’s back door. You slide on a pair of Wellington boots that sit on the doormat and step out into the biting air. In it, the inches of skin between the hem of the sweater and your long socks prickle with goosebumps, and your breath forms a fog under the soft glow of fairy lights leftover from a garden party the O’Hara’s hosted in the summer. Somewhere in the distance, a owl twoos and foxes rustle through shrubbery. When you lived in the city, the nights were overrun with sirens and drunken hooligans singing football chants down the alleyways and other racket that made it very difficult to hear yourself think. Meanwhile, out here, in the countryside, you could just be.

“Nice sweater.”

“Fuck!” The sudden verbiage shocks your shoulders to your ears. There’s no mistaking that voice, yet you have to scan the area to see where the Irish lilt is stemming from. It’s not until you hear the swish of water that you realise he’s in the hot tub that’s tucked away from the courtyard, his silhouette barely visible against the night. “Declan. You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry,” he croaks. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “Taggie’s snoring like a freight train.”

As your eyes adjust to the dark, you just catch Declan’s moustache quirk with a lazy smile. “Just like her mother.”

The comment coaxes you closer to the tub, waiting for Declan to elaborate, but whatever story he might’ve spieled evaporates with the steam from the water. The heated pool was just another of Maud’s extravagant buys, and Declan hated the addition when it showed up in a delivery van, during summer, of all seasons, because he knew it would be forgotten about in a matter of days once she’d found something new to obsess over. There was always something with Maud. If it wasn’t an extravagant purchase to distract herself with, it was a lover, and if it wasn’t a lover, it was a trip far, far away from the Cotswolds. Her recent truancy being case in point.

There’s hardly any light in this corner of the yard, aside from a small golden glimmer beneath the hot tub surface, but it’s enough for you to take in Declan’s form. He’s lax, whiskey in hand, with his head reclined against the lip of the pool. You notice the thick smattering of chest hair across the breadth of his torso, dark and unruly. The few men you’ve ever been with have been around your age, either trimmed or unable to grow body hair where its desired. But then again, they were just boys in the scheme of things. Declan has always been so fucking manly. His already dark hair black with water, pushed away from his face like he’s slicked it back with his hands. It hasn’t stopped miniscule curls frizzing to fruition at his temples. Declan takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

“If I’m being honest, I thought you’d be a tad more excited when I spoke to you this morning.” The subject change surprises you.

“Oh, trust me, I was! But–“

“But Taggie had already broken the news to you by then, hadn’t she?”

You look down at your feet, not wanting to give your friend away, but Declan knows his daughter has a hard time keeping a lid on her excitement. “It’s alright,” he chuckles. “She means well.”

“She’s a good friend. They’re hard to come by.”

You’re telling me, Declan thinks, taking a one-handed inventory of his own close companions.

The frosty air hugs you and your toes seize under its bite, even through your socks and boots. “Do you mind?” You point to the hot tub. It takes a moment for it to click in Declan’s brain that you’re asking if you can join him. It would be rude for him to say no. Stupid for him to say yes. Instead, he gives a non-commital shrug and whispers Lord, help me into his glass. Over its rim, he watches you perch on the edge of the tub to while you toe off your wellies. They land with a thud on the pavement and you giggle to yourself, oops, when one ricochets into a nearby shrub. Muscles zip up the back of your leg when you peel off your socks, and Declan has to force himself to look away when the hem of your sweater — no, his sweater, one of many Taggie had stolen away — rides dangerously high on your thighs as you swing your legs over the lip of the heated pool. He’s thankful that only one of the lights below the surface is in working order because his prick rouses when a satisfied hum seeps from you as your feet kiss the warm surface. Declan’s jaw ticks. The devil on his shoulder probes that you’re purposely torturing him and his conscious bites back that he’s a sleazy bastard for thinking as much. You’re not doing anything. You’re just here.

Get a grip on yourself, O’Hara, he scolds, and chases it with a swig of whiskey he only hopes will burn away the filthy thoughts you manage to conjure for him.

“You got another one of them?” When he faces you again, you’re pointing at the glass that’s fogged up in his sweaty palm.

“The champagne not enough for ya?”

You roll your eyes. “If you don’t want to share, just say so.”

“You can’t handle this.”

“Are you really going to sit there and tell a girl what she can and can’t handle?” you press, eyes locked in on his. “You’d be surprised what I can handle, Declan.” You don’t mean for it to sound so provocative, but challenging him has set your whole body ablaze. For good measure, you quirk an eyebrow at Declan, and the subtle move has his cock doing the same in the confines of his striped swim shorts. Without another word, Declan floats across the hot tub to where you’re seated and presses his glass into your hand. You offer a thank you in the form of a gentle smile before pressing your full, blush lips to the rim. Tilting the glass to the sky, you can feel Declan’s heavy gaze on you, watching. Waiting. You allow your eyes to fall shut as the bitter prickle of the whiskey waves over your tongue, so you don’t see him slide a hand to the back of his neck. His nails dig crecsents into the skin there, both as punishment for and distraction from the fact his mind is trekking to dark places where your lips are pressed somewhere far more sinister. He can’t keep his eyes off you while you drain what’s left of the whiskey, your eyes fluttering open when you realise there’s nothing left.

“I told you I could handle it,” you tell Declan, ignoring the slight burn that stings at the back of your throat. You both reach your hand into the small space between you, fingers grazing as you pass the glass back to Declan. 

The air between the two of you is charged. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone lit a match and the whole world went up in flames taking the pair of you with it. That same pained look that took Declan’s expression over during your interview rears its head again. Before you get the opportunity to put a name to it, a door creaks in the distance and your name echoes into the night.

“Are you out there?”

Taggie.

Taggie.

There’s a flurry of movement as Declan slides to the opposite side of the hot tub again and you all but catapult yourself onto the pavement as if you’d been caught redhanded. Doing what, you weren’t entirely sure, but you were certain it wasn’t a good look. You yank your socks over your damp feet, followed by the wellies and make a start for where the kitchen light illuminates your friend in the doorway.

“There you are!” she sighs, almost relieved, when you meet her at the step. “You alright? I thought you might’ve driven home after all.” “God, no. I’m fine! Just…” you glance over your shoulder to where the blaze of a cigarette burns in the darkness. “Just getting some air.”

Loved writing this chapter, and things are just getting started!! Reblog, share, comment: it all means the world to me!! <3

Previous chapters: Chapter 1: The Interview