#i had this song playing when i was scribbling so yeah

[ghostykapi]

chaeyoung + angst 👀

what if I (never) told you I had fallen?

chaeyoung & idol!fem!reader // angst

y'all when I said I want to scribble scribble I didn't expect to write ANGST for my biAS (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

when training for your debut since you were a teenager, all you've ever knew about everything else that wasn't school related or idol related was absolutely useless to you. even relationships with others seemed so pointless to you. amongst the teenagers who still seeked love among their goals, all you did was place that love into your training.

even in the company that you stayed in, that helped you make a debut, had more freedom regards to their artists' love lives. you were one of the few who had choose to not bother with that and threw themselves into work.

it had taken years for your members and staff to finally let you do other things aside from work. they had enough of it after seeing you walk out of the studio, finally burnt out of creative juices and work.

still you can't stray away from art, even if it's not in the form of music. so you had taken a liking to visual art, where you would walk in art galleries to simply admire the work or take pictures of nature.

this led you to her, your first taste of what it was like to fall in love. son chaeyoung

you had bumped into her when you were on your way to get a tattoo for the first time. you both were surprised to know that the tattoo parlor that she frequents is the one you're going to.

"you want to go together?" she had asked you that day, her infectious grin also making you smile "we can even get some food afterwards if your down for it!"

then your meetings with her, planned or just by pure coincidence, had become more frequent. from seeing each other at the han river to movie nights at your place. the more she came by, the more you continue to slip

it came to a realization on a chilly night, right after your practice you had requested the company driver to drop you off at your favorite ramen shop. it barely took a few steps out of the van for you to see her inside, talking to a random man.

you didn't know what the disturbing emotion was stirring up in your chest, but you had pushed it down and took a seat far away from them. hoping to sheild your eyes from seeing her acting too happy with him but still seeing them in the corner of your vision

you had already figured out that she was on a date, from the way he had been complementing her to the way her hand found his and mindlessly fidgeting with his fingers. it was all in the body language and you hated that you can still see it in the corner of your eye

it was when you finally managed to finish your meal and get out, that you realized what you felt and why you felt that way. it had made you scared to the bone, this new revelation changing your life.

it had brought you to nights where you lie down in bed, questioning if it was worth it to at least confess. it had brought you days of practice where everything is on auto-pilot, quite not trusting yourself to be there properly in the fear of messing up the steps. it brought concern from your members, questioning if you were trully ok, even if the light in your eyes was mixed with conflict, dispair and fear.

where this feeling had brought you new things, it had also left a hole in your heart. you knew you didn't have a chance with her ever since you saw the date at the ramen shop.

you had quite convinced yourself to try and move on. when you did try, she had always managed to find a way to bump into you, throwing you off track every time.

it was getting tiring, and you heart couldn't take it anymore. still, you were quite the stubborn person. so even if she came by your place, to ask for help to get a gift for her boyfriend, you couldn't say no.

"unnie" you groaned, your eyes finally giving up on you for looking at your phone for so long "please let's brainstorm later! my head hurts from thinking too much"

"please y/n/n!!" chaeyoung pouted at you, trying to get you to stay on the couch to help her search the net "this is really important to find a gift tonight"

you let out a dramatic sigh, this girl really knows your weakness huh

"fine" you couldn't help a smile take over your face as she did a small cheer "you owe me a good some son chaeyoung"

"I do y/f/n" she smiles at you. you swear this is the smile that's gonna break you "i just hope he's gonna like whatever I give him"

you barely see her this worried, so even if you dislike the man, you weren't blind to see how much she trully loves him.

"chae" you gently remind her "he's your boyfriend, your lover. he would love anything that you give him, just remember to trust your gut and make it a bit personal ok?"

she scoots over closer to you, and despite feeling your chest tighten, you give her a hug to try and ease her worries.

"you are son chaeyoung" you tell her, letting your mind say a portion of its true thoughts and a fragment of your feelings "you don't need a fancy gift to show him how much you love him, all you just have to show him something you know that's of your love and that he can chrish. he loves you chae, with gift or no gift"

she hums in appreciation for your comfort and pulls away, and even just for a silly little moment, you let your mind think that she was yours, even just like this. even just for a bit

"you always know what to say" chaeyoung says, now she's holding your hands and you know she had a hold on your heart as well, even if she doesn't know "I'm still surprised to not see anyone pursue you at all"

"what can I say" you smile, letting the words get in your head "maybe I'm just better off single"

because i can't handle it if it's not with you

"don't say that" she frowns, the softness of her voice reminding you how much you love to hear her talk "you'll find someone"

"maybe" you give her a smile and an empty promise "you'll be one of the first to know if I do, I promise"

in the next comeback, your group releases a new song, and chaeyoung questions if you were lying to her. seeing you on her phone screen, in an interview, explaining the last chorus of the song.

"what if I told you I had fallen?" (oh, nevermind.)

[lemonsprite]

𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 || 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 (𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: he’s so sorry!!

Word count:

Warnings: angst I suppose <\3 (but also comfort) and not beta read TT I have horrible grammar

A/N: needed to put a break in bc this bitch is too long!!!!!!!! I want Hugh Jackman on a primal level

Logan’s back was killing him. He was hunched over a barstool, currently nursing a Pilsner while drowning in self pity- not like he had much else to do at the moment.

“I’m cutting you off man, you look like shit.” Remarked the bartender, looking down at Logan with sickening pity. “Go home.”

“Don’t have one.” Logan bite back, his voice no louder than a grumble as he sulked. That was a lie. He had a home, with Charles, and Scott, and Ororo, and a hundred other mutants but all of that was a faraway thought for Logan. No, all he really cared for right now was how much he missed your warm bed. He missed his home, your home.

The bartender raised a disapproving eyebrow at Logan and he could tell when he wasn’t wanted.

Groggily and very drunk, Logan stood from the barstool, holding onto the counter of the bar for help as he made his way to the front door, the bright illuminated ‘open’ sign causing his eyes to squint and the already tell tale signs of a killer hangover tomorrow to kick in.

Outside was dead silent, even the crickets seemed afraid to chirp in the presence of Logan as he stumbled his way down the street to an old rain rusted payphone, covered in shitty aged graffiti.

The humid summer air stuck to Logan’s skin, and he slapped at his neck, attempting to kill a pesky mosquito as he fumbled for his wallet.

Logan’s leather wallet that was held together by a single string only contained two things.

One- a very very expired drivers license, and two- a crinkled old Polaroid of you, smiling happily five years ago when you and Logan first met. On the back, scribbled in almost illegible chicken scratch was a slew of numbers, numbers his shaking fingers began to dial on the old payphone.

Logan brought the receiver up into the ear, doing the old song and dance when it came to shitty pay phones like these before the robot operator instructed him to say his name into the phone.

“It’s Logan, sorry to bother Bub… I know it’s late.” He mumbled quietly into the receiver, playing anxiously with the long coiled line of the phone.

Patiently he waited for one second, then two before the stress relieving sound of a click could be heard from the other end.

“Is everything okay Logan?” You asked, your voice soft, half asleep, and full of worry.

Logan paused for a moment, thinking over his next words as best as his intoxicated mind could.

“Yeah… yeah there’s just a lot goin’ on right now and I dunno…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just needed to hear your voice…”

He leaned against the phone booth, the receiver tucked securely into his shoulder as he realized how utter pathetic he must’ve looked currently.

“Where are you? Do you need help?” You questioned, your voice writhe with anxiety and he could hear you throwing on your bath robe and slippers, grabbing your car keys and unlocking the front door.

Logan felt horrible for crawling to you, begging for help when he was the one to push you away in the first place but another, very drunk, selfish side of himself yearned to hold you in his arms and sleep in once more on your queen size mattress.

“Nah. I don’t need help.” Logan finally decided, his voice a mixture of gruff stoicism and… something else.

There was a small pause. A moment of reconsideration.

“I’m at the phone booth across the bar.” He admitted, voice low and slightly embarrassed.

“I’ll be there in five.” You reply sternly, the phone line going dead with a familiar disconnecting click.

Logan couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. Even though he’d never admit it, some old still hopelessly in love part of him was happy to know you’d still be willing to drop everything at two AM and hunt him down at some dingy dive bar.

True to your word, within five minutes, Logan heard the noise of your old car approaching. The headlights illuminating the cement and causing Logan to squint. You pulled over, stopping a foot from the phone booth.

The cars window rolled down revealing you, your hair still tousled from sleep and your bathrobe barely clinging to your shoulders.

“Get in Lo’… you can spend the night at my place.” You frowned, pursing your lips as you gestured with your head for Logan to get into the passenger seat.

Logan’s usual stern expression melted away upon seeing you for the first time in what felt like forever. Your anxious expression matching his as he climbed into your car, feeling himself melt back into the seat like he’d never left.

“Lead the way bub.” He hummed coarsely, the seat creaking under his weight and his muscular body taking up a large portion of the cabin.

Now thoroughly sobered up, the drive home was filled with awkward silence, the tension so thick you could cut into it like butter. The roads were dark and your eyes stay glued to the road almost as if you were ignoring Logan’s presence.

The cars headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the deserted streets as Logan tapped his fingers against the edge of the window, his heart tight with a mixture of anticipation and nostalgia.

Logan stole glances now and again at your face. Taking in the familiar lines etched into your skin and the way you pursed your lips when concentrating.

“Been awhile since I’ve been here huh?” He asked, attempting to break the awkward silence as his chair creaked in protest when he attempted to lean back.

“Missed you Lo’.” You said softly, almost quiet enough for Logan to not hear. “I think about you every day… wether your alive or dead… happy or injured and bloody…”

Logan bite his lip, taken aback by the sudden sincerity of your words, not expecting that much vulnerability from you. He glanced over, his eyes meeting yours before quickly returning to the dark pavement road.

A cold pang of guilt curled in his stomach as he swallowed.

“Bub…” he started, clearing his throat gruffly. “I… didn’t want you to worry about me… y-… you know I’m always fine…”

Logan stumbled through his words, finding it tough to even wrestled them out of his throat.

He could see you thinking over his words, biting at your lip as you gaze turned disapprovingly towards the road. You obviously disagreed with him but kept your words to yourself as the drive continued on.

Eventually your car pulled into the driveway of your small home. Pulling the keys from the ignition, the engine putter to a stop as you climbed out of your car, slamming the door shut in a way Logan could tell was venting your anger.

Logan followed, standing quietly outside the car and staring up at your house just now realizing how much he’d missed all this. The familiarity of it all.

His keen senses picked up the scent of your home. A mixture of you and old wood. Logan shove his hands in his pockets and looked up at you with a strange combination of trepidation and anticipation.

“Come in, I’ll get you something warm to drink.” You offer quietly, fidgeting with your key ring to unlock the front door.

Logan followed you inside, his steel toed boots thumping against the hardwood floor. He took in the sight of the place, the walls and shelves filled with small trinkets and photos.

His gaze lingered on a photo of the two of you. It was an old photo, taken back in the early days of your relationship and something tore at his insides that night coming back vividly to him.

He cleared his throat and looked over at you, his face a mixture of emotions he couldn’t bother to hide at the moment.

“Still like the simple stuff huh?” Logan asked, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

“I like that photo.” You respond simply with a shrug, moving to the kitchen to grab two mugs.

setting the kettle on the stove and filling it with water, you dig in a nearby pantry, pulling out two bags of camomile. Logan was touched you’d remebered it helped him sleep better at night.

“I’m renovating the guest room Lo’ so uh…” you paused nervously, leaning against the kitchen counter for better balance. “You could sleep on the couch or um… my bed if that’s okay with you… although if you remember the couch is uncomfortable at shit.”

Logan took in the slight anxious tremble of your voice and attempted a smile to ease your worries. “Are you kidding? I’ll never forget that couch and I have the back problems to prove it.”

You watched you silently for the moment before continuing quietly.

“I’ll take the bed.”

“Good choice.” You complimented with an awkward smile, grabbing the steaming kettle and filling both mugs. “Do you still like milk with yours?” You asked absentmindedly, digging around in the fridge of your kitchenette.

Logan nodded. “Yeah same way Bub.”

He leaned his back against the counter, his gaze still fixed on you. This domestic scene felt surreal- you preparing tea for him, the soft electric hum of the fridge, and the intimate simplicity of it all.

Memories of exact copies of this night came flooding back to him. Countless nights of late-night conversations and cups of tea.

Once finished, you pushed the perfectly steeped cup of tea towards Logan, his fingers brushing against yours before taking a sip and glancing at him from across the kitchen.

“I’m worried about you Lo’.” You admitted quietly, staring at him from over the rim of you cup.

Logan took a large swig of his drink, using it as an excuse to avoid looking at you for a moment. When he did, he met your eyes, the worry in your gaze mirroring his own.

“I know you are.” He grumbled, voice stoic. “But I can handle myself Bub.”

“If you can why call me at two am!?” You bite back, glancing at Logan as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

Logan sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. He knew you had a point. He knew he wouldn’t have called if everything was fine.

He took another sip of tea, the warm liquid soothing his gruff throat.

“It’s just… been a tough couple of weeks.” Logan admitted, voice suddenly quiet as his fingers traced the handle of his mug. “Just needed to hear your voice is all I guess…”

You glance at the tiled floor, thinking for a moment before speaking up.

“Why did you leave me Logan…” you asked quietly, forcing Logan to address the one question he didn’t want to consider.

The question hit Logan like a ton of bricks, the familiar shame and guild washing over him like a cold wave.

He looked away, jaw clenching as he struggled to find the words. He didn’t want to hurt you… didn’t want to bother you with all the issues that entailed loving a mutant. He didn’t- couldn’t hurt you.”

“It’s complicated.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze. “You’re better off without me, Bub.”

You frown at Logan, obviously taking offence to his words.

“Oh really?” You asked incredulously. “Am I better off tossing and turning every night worried that the next time I’d see you would be in a casket? Am I better off crying every night left wondering what I did wrong for you to leave me- to leave us?”

Tears began to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks, too preoccupied to brush them away.

Logan flinched slightly as your words struck deep. He could see the pain carved into your face and the tracks of tears caused by him.

He placed his practically finished mug of tea behind him, the soft thud of the porcelain echoing through the small kitchen. He took a moved, closing the distance between you two as he looked down at you with a mixture of sadness and regret.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispered, taking a deep breath and fighting the lump in his throat. “It’s me bub, im the problem.”

You refused to look at Logan, your eyes glued to the floor.

“I didn’t want you to leave…” you admitted quietly. “…I miss you.”

Logan let out a deep sigh, his heart feeling heavier than his weary shoulders and each syllable that escaped your mouth feeling like a swift dagger to his conscience.

His voice barely above a whisper, Logan answered. “I know you didn’t want me to leave. And I miss you too. More than you know.”

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently, very gently touching your chin, turning you face towards him.

Logan’s heart ached as he saw the tears on your face, his calloused thumb trying gently to wipe them away, a slight tremble in his hand.

“Why are you crying over a knucklehead like me Bub?” He soothed, thumb tracing your jaw. “I’m not worth these tears.”

“I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you Logan.” You admitted solemnly, leaning into Logan’s touch. “And… and you left me in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye… I thought you’d gotten hurt… o-or worse…”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw you nuzzle into his calloused palm. The raw emotion in your voice slicing through all previous walls he’d constructed around his heart.

He closed his eyes for a moment of solace, his rough hand cradling your face.

“I’m sorry.” Logan said in a broken whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The words came out like a prayer, filled with longing, guilt, and a drive for forgiveness from the only person Logan ever thought really mattered.

A moment of silence passed, Logan’s apology sinking deep into the walls of the kitchen until you spoke up.

“Can you stay till next morning Lo’?” You asked, voice scratchy from crying and shouting. “I’ll make bacon the way you like it… all crunchy n’ shit…”

A small smile tugged at Logan’s lips despite the heaviness in his chest. The mental image of you cooking breakfast for him in the early hours of morning was more comforting than he’d care to admit.

“You remember the way I like it huh?” He askedC his heavy voice tinged with the slight hint of humor.

“Never forgot.” You replied, giving Logan a sad smile as you stepped away from his close proximity.

“Anyways… it… it’s been a long night we should get some rest…” you suggested, gesturing with you head to the bedroom down the hall, a place Logan was all too familiar with.

A wave of nostalgia hit Logan like a truck as he entered your bedroom. Memories of many sleepless nights filled with you in his arms were seared into his mind.

Hi eyes flicked around, taking in all the subtle changes since he’d last been here- the new pillows, the different floral bedsheets, but beneath it all it was still the same, it was still you, it was still home.

You sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off your slippers and removing your socks, tossing the clothes somewhere on to the other side of the room like you and Logan used to do every night before having fun.

Logan shrugged off his shirt, revealing his scarred tanned chest as he climbs underneath the sheets and duvet, settling in next to you, your back facing to him.

This routine was all too familiar to him.

Logan wanted to pull you closer, to hold you against him but he hesitated, not sure what your boundaries were at the moment. Logan yearned for your touch, even though he’d been the one to walk away.

“Can… can you hold me Logan…” you asked quietly, your voice resounding in the silent bedroom.

A wave of relief washed over Logan as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest, his nose burying into your hair inhaling the familiar scent of you.

“Yeah.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “I can hold you.”

Logan could feel the tension leaving your shoulders as you melted into his touch causing him to hold you closer, his arm instinctively wrapping around your tummy.

He’d forgotten how much he missed this, the simple pleasure of having your back to his chest, your warmth in his embrace.

Logan nuzzled his face into your hair, breathing deeply. “God I missed this.” He murmured, voice filled with regret and relief.

The room was dead silent, all except for the quiet ticking of a nearby wall clock.

“Can’t you stay Logan?” You asked into the silence of the room, your voice barely above a whisper. “We can continue where we left off… I still have all your clothes in my closet.”

Logan’s heart clenched in his chest, his head and heart at war within himself. The temptation was strong, painfully so. But the guilt, the knowledge of what could befall you made him hesitate.

“It’s not that simple bub.” His voice rough as he muttered quietly into your ear. Logan’s hand, however, betrayed him as I gently caressed your hip, calloused thumb tracing patterns into your skin.

“Logan I’ll be good.” You pleaded quietly, leaning into his touch. “I won’t do anything to make you leave me again I promise.”

Your raw emotion sliced through any remaining restraint Logan had. He could feel the guilt and love for you wrestling for dominance in his chest.

“You were never the problem you understand that don’t you?” He said, voice low and deep. “It’s me- not you- always me.”

He exhaled sharply, fingers digging into your skin as he held you impossibly closer.

“You’re making it hard to resist Bub.”

Logan could feel all remaining defences crumbling as you turned in his grasp to face him, one of your hands cradling his jaw as he looked down at you.

“I love you Logan.” You whispered.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered, voice breaking. “Never did.”

“Say it back.” You pleaded, leaning your head on to his chest as sleep threatened to take you. “I need to hear it.”

Logan’s chest tightened at your request, knowing he could never deny you, could never hold back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

“I love you. Still. Always.” He said, burying his face in your hair once more.

You hummed in contentment at his answer, happy to finally hear what you’d be needing for months. Comforted by the closeness of Logan, your eyes fluttered close and before he knew it your breathing had evened out to a slow steady rhythm and you were fast asleep, nestled in Logan’s arms.

Logan stayed awake for a while longer, content to listen to your slow breathing and quiet heartbeat. He held you close, glad to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve your love after all he’d put you through. Your words ‘I love you’ echoing in his mind like a burden but also simultaneously a comfort.

But Logan couldn’t deny how good it felt to be back again, to have you in his arms again, and the sense of peace that washed over him you laid together.

He knew the sun would rise soon enough, and he knew that this time, he’d stay.

[kitten4sannie]

ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ

ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴘʟᴀʏ/ꜰʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ➠ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ/ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: enemy emperor! yunho x empress! reader x scribe! yeosang

genre: historical au, smut

summary: you have another tension filled meeting with the stubborn man that wants nothing more than to conquer and own you. your new dedicated scribe records everything.

w.c: 4k

warnings: hard dom! yunho, bratty pillow princess! reader, bricked up witness! yeosang, monster cock alerttt, cnc, light mxm, exhibitionism/voyeurism, name calling/pet names, degradation, dirty talk (this man…he’s so nasty in this i’m not even sorry…), lots of manhandling, spanking/flogging, dacryphilia, half dressed kink idk, spit, hair grabbing, threesome elements, some cucky vibes, a little dash of praise, rough wall sex, creampie, yeosang licks everything up… AHEM, oral (receiving), fingering, cum eating, squirting

a/n: i was extremely high when i wrote this and i am down bad astronomically for yuyu and yeosang so yeah something religious happened to me during the writing process !! i mostly blame it on jackson wang bc that song is sooooo…. rfhhehwh it turns me into a rabid animal ngl anywaysss i hope you enjoy lovelies xx

Now Playing:

ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ʙʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ ᴡᴀɴɢ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

As the empress of your country’s land, it’s always been up to you to partake in the anointed trivialities that required your royal attention. Aside from drawn out, traditional ceremonies to endless horse riding and archery lessons with a seasoned member of the congregation, you spent most of your time having meetings with your supposed suitors, having to listen to their boundless, self-important monologues about their days in battle, coming to know just how much knowledge they held in combat and war strategies, and fighting the urge to pull your hand away when they would hold onto it, pleading you with their eyes for your approval. It all bored you to tears. 

Though, there was a particular individual that you couldn’t seem to keep your mind off of, no matter how hard you tried. Jeong Yunho, an emperor from the land that bordered yours. A man from a bloodline that your family had gone to war with many times over the years. Despite that you were quite literally sleeping with the enemy, you couldn’t help yourself. You had never met anyone like him before. Instead of asking and pleading for your attention, time, and body, he simply took it. Took what he wanted from you without a care in the world. He wasn’t even bothered by that fact that your dear scribe still sat in the meeting room with you, hazily scribbling down everything that occurred and what was said, spilling bottles of ink onto his scrolls due to how flustered he was from witnessing the way Yunho forcefully conquered his dear empress with a domineering smirk plastered on his sweaty face, the panting emperor’s cock routinely disappearing underneath your disheveled ceremony garments and into your willing cunt. 

“Your Highness, Lord Jeong should be here any second now,” your fresh-faced scribe began from across the meeting room, setting up various sized brushes in a line, smoothing out a few creases he found embedded in the elongated sleeves of his ceremony robe. He suddenly looked up at you, concern present within his widened honey brown eyes. “Should I make more tea?” 

“That won’t be necessary, Yeosang, but your intention is very sweet, thank you,” you replied softly, making your way across the room in your heavy garbs, taking the time to run your fingers through your newest scribe’s hair, offering him a smile that made him drop one of his brushes. “Lord Jeong doesn’t drink much tea. He…prefers to get straight to business.” 

Yeosang’s smile dropped slightly when your hand left his hair, his eyes traveling your form as you sat on your knees in front of the meeting table, watching you take a sip from your steaming celadon cup and nod your head in approval of the flavor. “Have you considered his marriage requests? I’ve read some of the letters he’s sent to you…” The young scribe blushed suddenly, his eyes lowering to look at the blank spaces on his scrolls. “They’re quite intense. Does that sort of thing interest you?” 

You rested your chin inside the palm of your hand, your gold bracelets dangling from your wrist, squinting your eyes at Yeosang, your lips curling up ever so slightly. “It does, very much so. Lord Jeong is one of the most interesting men I’ve come across thus far…I’ve greatly considered his offers, despite him being the enemy.” 

Yeosang tilted his head, a few locks of his hair falling into his focused eyes. “If I may ask, your Highness…What’s stopping you from accepting?” 

You ran your finger around the rim of your celadon cup, looking at your reflection within the black tea, your smile fading. “I don’t want the excitement to end, Yeosang.” You looked back up at him, unable to keep yourself from smiling gently at his confused expression. “Marriage, as beautiful as it is, brings monotony, which brings contempt…” 

“Ahh, I see now,” Yeosang nodded slowly, giving you a sad smile back, feeling like he understood his empress a bit more in that moment. He squeezed his fingers around the intricately carved wooden brush inside his grasp.  “Your Highness, may I ask you a question?” 

Just as you were about to respond, the large, jewel-encrusted doors of your meeting room opened with a groan. A tall, handsome man dressed in an extravagant, hand-sewn traditional robe came strolling in like he owned the place, holding an expensive mahogany box within his large hands. 

“Oh, princess, I’ve brought you a present,” Yunho called out teasingly, walking up to the table. He acknowledged Yeosang’s presence with a nod, who bent over to bow. The confident emperor sat down across from you at the table, his eyes hooded, his lips quirked up perversely as if he was reminiscing about your previous meetings. “Hi. Did you miss me?” 

You rolled your eyes, pretending as if you didn’t care about the emperor’s arrival, despite your heart and core throbbing rhythmically from him simply sitting there across from you. “What did you bring me, Yunho?” 

“Something that’ll have your little scribe here pulling at his robes when I’m done using it on you…Maybe he’ll even spill his ink all over himself like your last one…” Yunho’s eyes shifted from Yeosang, who gulped, to you, who simply sipped on your tea, his long fingers rubbing along the smooth edges of the mahogany box. 

You tilted your head to the side, idly biting at the tip of your manicured nail. “Is that so? Well, get on with it. I’m a busy woman, as you know, and I don’t like when my time is being wasted with nonsense.” 

Yunho simply scoffed, shaking his head slightly, sitting there silently for a moment, the only sound in the room being Yeosang’s wet brush expertly sliding across the scroll and your nails tapping against your tea cup. 

All you registered was the sight of Yunho swiftly getting up onto his feet and heading in your direction, his feet thumping against the mat below. Before you even realized what was happening, you were laying face down on the table, watching your tea pool out onto the sleek wood, your intricately crafted tea cup now split in individual pieces. Yunho had you held down by the neck, his fingers closing around it, his warm body pressing against yours, able to feel his stiff cock against your ass, even through your thick robes. 

He chuckled at the gasp you let out, bringing his lips near your ear to purr huskily, “Am I still wasting your time, princess? Or is getting your little cunt all nice and wet for me something worthwhile?” Instead of letting you answer, Yunho simply reached past you, flipping the boxe’s lid open, bringing it closer for you to take a good look at its contents. Inside the box sat a hand-woven flog, the edges of it decorated with a silver finishing, making it glisten in the light. “Do you like your present? I got it made just for you.” He rubbed his cock along your ass, his free hand roaming over your upper thigh to the curve of your ass. “Can’t you see? I’m in love with you…” 

“Oh, please.” As you tried to get up, Yunho pushed his body weight down onto you, holding your wrists down with ease. “Do you really think I’m going to let you use your little toy on me in front of my innocent scribe, Yunho? Who do you think you are?” 

“I’m simply a man who’s head over heels for you, Y/N…Take some responsibility…” Yunho quickly reached past your neck and down to your chest to rip open your garments, tugging on them while you continued to resist until your bare body was revealed underneath the many layers.

Yeosang dipped his brush inside the bottle of ink with a shaky hand, his cheeks flushed, unsure if he should speak up, his eyes fixated on you, never having seen you in such an indecent state before. “Sh-should…I keep going, your Highness?” 

When Yunho forcefully bent you over his knee and pulled your disheveled robe up to reveal your ass, his large hands squeezing into it, you nodded your head weakly at Yeosang, feeling a bit dizzy from being treated in such a way with your lovely dedicated scribe watching on. “Please, don’t let us stop you from doing your job, Yeosang…you’re doing so well…”  

“Thank you, Your Highness…” Yeosang blushed from the praise, dipping his brush back into the ink, before pressing it to the scroll, thankful that his garments were thick enough to cover his stiffening length.

You weren’t able to reply to Yeosang when Yunho abruptly slammed his open palm against the curve of your ass, a moan leaving your lips instead of words. He smacked the other side of your ass to watch it bounce and groped along it, squeezing your sensitive flesh between his slender fingers. “That’s it…just look at that color…Wish you could see it, princess. Shall I add some pretty shades of purple and pink too? You’re my canvas, Y/N…I’m sure you’ll let me paint you with my cum next, right? Just like every time, yeah?” 

“Fuck off, Yunho,” you grumbled, attempting to climb out of his lap, throbbing at the feeling of him grabbing you by the waist and holding you still, knowing you couldn’t get away even if you tried. 

“You weren’t saying that last time, princess. You were begging me for more…” Yunho picked up the flog, running his fingers along the woven leather, before he cracked it in the air, making Yeosang and you jolt from the sudden loud noise, bringing joy to the emperor. “Take a deep breath for me, Y/N…” 

Just as you did so, Yunho brought the flog down onto your ass, watching the individual leather straps leave pretty red marks on your skin, groaning, “So pretty… you’re so pretty for me, princess…” and repeating the motion, lacking the proper self control to stop himself, even when you began to cry, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

“F-fuck…! Stop!” You kicked your legs and thrashed around until you were able to wiggle out of his grasp, just barely making it over to Yeosang’s large scribing table, before Yunho slammed you down onto it, knocking over one of the ink bottles with his rough handling of you. 

“Crying just for me, princess? You’re making me so hard,” Yunho sighed into your ear, moving closer to your face to lick one of your tears away, his hot breath hitting your cheek, your ass stinging more when he grabbed it roughly, bolts of pleasure shooting into your core. 

 “You fucking asshole…” you choked out, about to pull yourself up when the emperor pinned your hands painfully behind your back, feeling his knee press in between your thighs. 

Yunho tugged more of your garments off without a care in the world, huffing and as he shoved his hand in between your thighs from behind, rubbing two fingers along your clothed cunt, before tearing it off with ease. “Ahh, that’s what I thought…You’re so wet for me, Y/N.” He looked to Yeosang, who was blushing wildly, still just sitting there and haphazardly recording the chaos that was occurring right next to him, knowing it wasn’t his place to interact in any way unless either of you allowed him to. Yunho continued to rub at your cunt, enjoying the noises you and your gushing slit were making. “Hey, scribe, make sure you make a note about how fucking soaked your empress gets from getting manhandled by an enemy emperor. That’s an important detail, isn’t it, princess?” 

You struggled underneath the man, starting to feel ink soaking into your expensive garments, some of it staining your cheek. “Yunho, get off of me, or so help me–” You suddenly found yourself gasping for air, having been flogged again, though this time some of the leather straps reached your cunt, feeling it sting pleasurably in between your trembling thighs. 

Yunho looked over to Yeosang, who had his fingers clenched around his brush, his free hand in between his clenching thighs. “Hey, Yeosang, do you know why the previous scribe quit?” When he shook his head, Yunho grinned, admiring the pattern of bruises he left on your ass, running his fingers lightly over them. “He couldn’t handle watching his beloved empress cry and take what I so graciously gave her, but you can, can’t you, Yeosang?” 

He bit his bottom lip, feeling conflicted, not sure if he should nod or not. He instead looked to you, his eyebrows knitted together with concern. “Your Highness…” Yeosang whispered softly, hesitantly placing one hand on top of yours, holding it tightly. 

You looked up at him, smiling gently, blowing a bit of hair out of your hazy eyes, reaching your other hand over to rub the top of his knuckles. “It’s okay, Yeosang…I want this…” 

Yunho grabbed you by the hair, forcefully lifting up your head so that he could get a good look at you, practically drooling at this point, his cock throbbing against your backside. “Say that again…Let me hear it…” 

You turned your head to look at him, smiling sweetly, before you pursed your lips and sent a wad of spit onto his cheek, satisfied with the way it dripped down along his tightening jaw. “If you hurry up and fuck me instead of continuing on with this bullshit, I’ll think about it.” 

Turned on beyond measure, Yunho grabbed your own jaw, forcing it open so that he could send a wad of spit straight down your throat, chuckling darkly at the moan that escaped your parted lips. “This is why you’re my favorite, princess. You’re such a bratty little thing, just aching to be put in your place, huh? You want me to do that? Fuck you into submission in front of your sweet little scribe? Just say the word….” 

This time around, Yunho could see the desperation on your flushed face, your lips forming a pout. “Please…” you whined, surprising yourself and the two men watching you with your sudden act of obedience. 

“Oh my god, that’s fucking it right there…” Yunho groaned, pulling at the sash wrapped securely around his slim waist and pulling it loose, so that he could gain access to his undergarments, quickly tugging his stiff, leaking cock out. “Do you draw portraits too, scribe? This slut’s pretty face should be kept in the history books…” 

Yeosang nervously shook his head, starting to spread the ink across his scroll from watching the way Yunho pushed you up against the wall, so close to Yeosang that his garments spilled into his lap, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist, just as he fully sheathed himself inside you, your soaked panties pushed to the side.

“No? That’s too bad…Well, at least jot down the fact that I conquer your Highness’s tight little cunt every time I give her a visit…” Yunho huffed out, smiling at you with his canines showing, his hands cemented tightly around your bare waist, bringing himself down to one of your tits to suck it into his open mouth. 

“God, will you just–aaah–shut the fuck up and…nnngh…fuck me properly?” you asked in between pants, barely able to take the emperor’s thick, oversized cock without feeling like you were going to break, your nails digging into his straining upper back through his garments, one side of his robe starting to drape off one of his broad shoulders. 

“Yeah? You want it rough just like every other time, don’t you, whore?” Yunho groaned against your skin, dragging his tongue up over your spit-laced tit to attack your neck with his lips and teeth, leaving your skin in various shades of red and purple. “Write this down too, scribe. The people should know that this pretty princess can’t cum unless she has a horsecock ramming into her cunt. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”  

You couldn’t even speak at this point, from the way Yunho lifted one leg up onto the scribe table, using the leverage to fuck into you as deep and hard as he could, about to cream yourself from the way he kept you pinned down, just using you like a doll made for his pleasure. 

Now almost directly underneath his empress and the enemy emperor’s rapidly joining bodies, Yeosang couldn’t help but look up, fixated on the way your cunt spread open each time Yunho slammed himself inside your clenching hole, feeling a few drops of your mixed arousal drip down onto his face and roll down his warm cheek. He gingerly opened his mouth and held his tongue out, now pressing his brush directly into the soaked paper, leaning his back against the wall behind him, his hand beginning to rub at his pre-cum soaked cock that was still trapped underneath his heavy garments. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet, princess…I think I might…slip out…” Yunho sighed heavily against your ear, roughly nibbling it with the aid of one of his canine teeth, slowly sliding his cock out of you and slapping his heavy cock against your abdomen, smearing his pre cum onto your skin. 

The feeling of being completely empty just as you were about to cum almost sent you into a full-blown rage, practically ready to start another war with Yunho if he didn’t stick his cock back inside you. You abruptly grabbed him by the hair, clutching a tuft of his damp icy blond locks, leaning in so that your lips ghosted his. “Fuck me, you goddamn bastard. Make me cum.” 

This time Yunho didn’t play any games, simply rubbing his cockhead back and forth over your throbbing clit just to make you shudder against him, before he slipped back inside, immediately pounding himself into you, essentially leaving you breathless. “Look at you just taking it, princess… I know it’s big…You’re doing so well for me…taking it so good, princess…I’m so proud…” 

The sudden bout of praise coming from the enemy in such a sickly sweet tone, especially while he began to pump hot loads of cum into you, sent you barreling over the edge, not doing your dear scribe any favors when you began to babble nonsensically, tears beginning to fall from your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body. 

“Yeahhh, take it, princess…I’m gonna knock you up so you have to marry me.” Yunho chuckled darkly, his fingers squeezing into your hips, pressing a rough kiss to your lips, biting at your bottom lip before he pulled away. 

“You’re disgusting,” you huffed, grimacing at him, despite the fact that your thighs were still trembling. 

“Don’t say that, princess,” Yunho whined, leaning his forehead against yours, slowly pulling out inch by inch. “You know how hard that makes me…” He looked down to Yeosang, who was breathing heavily underneath the both of you, his mouth agape, splashes of arousal decorating his pretty, flushed face and damp hair. “Hey, scribe, you’ve been a good boy just sitting here and watching the whole time. You want a taste of your Highness’s used cunt?” 

Feeling sufficiently dizzy, Yeosang looked to you for approval, feeling his cock pulse at your slow dazed nod, bringing his hands up to your thighs to caress them, bringing his lips up to kiss and lick at the wetness around your cunt with a gentleness that would’ve had you collapsing if your legs weren’t securely hooked over Yunho’s shoulders. 

“Make sure you get it all…” Yunho murmured softly, completely pulling out of you with a wet, shlick sound, dribbles of his cum beginning to gush out of your gaping hole, allowing Yeosang to collect it inside his drooling mouth. Yunho brought a free hand to Yeosang’s head, holding him against your cunt, finding great joy in the desperate, sloppy manner in which he ate you out, like a delirious, thirsty man that had just found a hidden oasis. 

It was when Yeosang slipped his slender fingers deep inside your pulsing cunt, his hot mouth closed around your sensitive clit, that you began to whine and whimper, one arm hooked around Yunho’s neck for support, your free hand going down to grab onto Yeosang’s hair when Yunho let go, gazing down to find him already looking up at you with half closed eyes. 

“It’s so good, you’re so good for me, Yeosang, I’m going to…oh my god…”  

Yeosang clutched one side of your bruised ass with one hand, curling three of his fingers inside you and rubbing them against your clenching walls, lapping at your clit, his thighs closing together, his cheeks bright red from the praise. 

All the while, Yunho simply watched on, his chest swelling with pride, occasionally leaving kisses and licks on your straining, marked-up neck. “Cum for him, will you, princess? Won’t you soak his pretty face with your squirt?” 

Having your lovely scribe in between your legs, eating your cunt like it was his assigned job to do so, having your sworn enemy pressing his heated, sweaty body against yours, more filthy words leaving his lips for your shared pleasure was all far too much. “Yeosang…!” 

Yeosang found himself being covered in a warm spray of liquid, tasting your squirt on his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment to bask in the pleasure of it all, opening them back up just in time for you to pull him into your arms, your bare body against his half-dressed one. “Your Highness…” 

“I didn’t mean to do such a dirty thing to you, Yeosang, I’m so sorry…” You used your sleeves to wipe some of the wetness away from his face, blushing more than you had during the whole night. 

“Your Highness…” he repeated, softer this time, giving you a shy smile, pulling his robe apart until you could see what he had done to himself. 

Your eyes widened at the milky stains of cum splattered across the insides of his ceremonial garments, looking back up into his eyes, returning his shy smile. “If I had known you had such an affinity for me, I wouldn’t have looked for suitors this long. Who needs them when I have you?” 

Yeosang reached up to hold his heated cheeks, dumbfounded by the string of events, unable to believe that his beloved empress could feel such a way about him. “It’d be an honor to always be by your side…”

You giggled, reaching up to place a hand over his, your thumb brushing over his pretty birthmark. 

Yunho cleared his throat, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, his robe already wrapped ornately around his body, looking like he did when he first entered the meeting room, besides the afterglow he was now sporting. “I’d love to stay here longer and experience this beautiful moment with you both, but my job here is done.” He patted both of your heads, as if he were a proud father, before heading taking a few elegant strides towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to look at you, his tongue poking into one of his canine teeth, giving you a shit-eating smirk. “Until next time, princess.” 

“There isn’t going to be a next time,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes, your arms still around Yeosang, watching your smug enemy leave the room with a soft chuckle. 

Yeosang chuckled softly, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair, feeling confident enough to share his thoughts with you. “Now, let’s not kid ourselves, Your Highness.” 

“Heyyy,” you whined, giving him a pout, watching him pick up his drying brush up from the table. “Don’t you dare write that down.” When he motioned to dip his brush into the spilled ink, you hugged onto him from the side. “Yeosangggg, I’m still your empress!”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you rested your chin on his shoulder. “By the way, what was that question you wanted to ask me?”

Yeosang gulped, studying the ink-stained table below for a second, before turning his head to look at you, your faces just centimeters away from one another. “Will you replace me one day, Your Highness?”

Your eyes widened slightly, taking in your scribe’s vulnerability, wanting to return the same energy to him, as he was deserving of it. “Never, Yeosang. You’re here to stay.”

Yeosang blushed fervently, dropping the brush back down to hug you into his arms, nuzzling your neck gently, his hair tickling your skin, about to melt inside his empress’s grasp. “Promise?” 

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, pressing your lips to his cheek, waiting for him to look back into your eyes to whisper, “Promise.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[disciplined-cornfed]

Rome wasn't built in a day

Alex had never expected his college life to take this kind of turn. He’d moved to New York for school, planning to live on campus like most students, but when he found a better deal on an off-campus apartment that financial aid would cover, he jumped on it. The apartment was in a decent neighborhood, close to the subway, and the landlord didn’t ask too many questions. Seemed like a win.

What he hadn’t planned on, though, was Frank—his new roommate.

Frank was… something else. The guy was like a time capsule from a decade ago, straight out of Jersey Shore. From the gelled-back hair, the deep tan, ridiculous yelling at football and ufc matches every weekend, the flashy chains, to the relentless love of tank tops and gold watches. Alex wasn’t sure if Frank was for real or if this was just an elaborate, extended joke.

But here’s the thing: despite his douchey exterior, Frank was actually a pretty nice guy. Sure, he blasted club music at ungodly hours and flexed in the mirror every time he passed it, but Frank was always chill. He’d offer Alex food whenever he cooked, made sure the apartment was clean, and always gave him a heads-up when he had people over. Plus, Frank clearly knew what he was doing in the gym. The guy was shredded, and Alex had to admit, Frank’s discipline when it came to his diet and workout routine was impressive.

It didn’t take long before Alex’s curiosity got the best of him.

One day, after weeks of seeing Frank pound protein shakes and head to the gym religiously, Alex asked him for some advice. He had always been a casual gym-goer, but seeing Frank’s dedication made him wonder if he could up his own game.

“Yo, Frank,” Alex said one afternoon as they sat in the living room. “What do you usually eat for those gains, man? And how do you stay so consistent?”

Frank grinned, pausing the DJ Pauly D remix playing on his speakers. “Bro, it’s all about focus foods and the right lifts. Stick to lean meats, eggs, beans, lots of veggies. And you gotta hit the weights hard. No shortcuts.”

Alex nodded, scribbling down some notes on his phone. “Got any recommendations? Like content or something I can watch?”

Frank’s grin grew wider. “Oh, for sure. I’ll send you some stuff. There’s Dom Mazzetti, Vinny Guadagnino—some good shit, bro. But hey, I’ll send you my playlist too. Got a WAV file I use at the gym that keeps me hyped.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “A playlist?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s got some fire tracks. Also, I threw in some personal affirmations underneath it, helps me stay focused during my lifts. You probably won’t even notice them, but they help, bro. Trust me.”

Alex wasn’t really buying into the whole “subliminal affirmation” thing. It sounded like some weird self-help nonsense. But Frank was shredded, and if these little tricks worked for him, maybe they were worth a shot.

Later that evening, Alex plugged in his headphones and hit play on Frank’s WAV file. It started with “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky Me”—a male cover that felt oddly calming. The song transitioned into upbeat remixes like “Fireball” and other club tracks that seemed to pump adrenaline into his veins. Somewhere in between, Sinatra’s smooth voice made an appearance, bringing a strange, nostalgic energy to the mix.

As the playlist played, Alex caught faint whispers beneath the music—barely noticeable. “You love the gym. You crave the weights. Tanning makes you feel amazing. You rep the Italian pride with every lift.”

He chuckled to himself. This subliminal shit can’t be real, he thought. But, whatever—Frank swears by it.

The playlist ended with “Lucky, Lucky Me” again, and as Alex dozed off that night, the tune echoed faintly in his head.

The changes didn’t happen overnight, but as the days went by, Alex began to notice subtle differences. It started with his workouts. He’d always been someone who worked out occasionally, but now there was something different. One morning, as he walked past the gym on his way to class, he felt an urge—a need to lift. It wasn’t just about getting in shape anymore. Something about the weights called to him, pulling him in.

He ended up inside, grabbing a set of dumbbells and diving into a full workout. By the time he finished, he was drenched in sweat, but instead of feeling exhausted, he felt exhilarated. There was a rush—an energy that coursed through him, leaving him wanting more.

From that point on, the gym became part of his daily routine. At first, he didn’t even realize it was happening. He started following Frank’s tips—lifting heavier, focusing on compound movements, and pushing himself harder with each session. His muscles responded quickly, growing faster than they ever had before. His shirts started to fit tighter, hugging his chest and arms in ways they never had before. Every time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but flex, admiring his progress.

It wasn’t just the gym either. One afternoon, Alex caught himself in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing how pale his skin looked under the fluorescent lights. Without thinking much of it, he booked an appointment at the tanning salon down the street. After his first session, he looked at himself in the mirror, marveling at the golden glow on his skin. It made him feel good, confident—like he was stepping into a new version of himself.

Tanning became part of his routine, just like the gym. He started looking forward to that golden glow, the way it made his muscles stand out more, and how it just felt right.

One weekend, Alex found himself wandering into a clothing store, drawn to a section of tank tops with bold prints—Italian flags, American flags, vibrant colors that screamed confidence. He picked up a few without thinking twice, the fabric feeling perfect against his newly defined arms. When he got home and slipped into one of the tanks, he stood in front of the mirror, flexing his biceps. The tank hugged his body in all the right places, and as he admired his reflection, a grin spread across his face.

Damn, I look good.

It wasn’t just the clothes that made him feel this way—it was the pride, the feeling of representing his heritage with every lift, every flex. It felt right.

The most surprising change came with his voice. At first, it was barely noticeable—a slight shift in his accent, a few new words slipping into his vocabulary. But as the weeks went on, the transformation in his speech became undeniable. His voice took on a thicker Jersey inflection, and words like “bro” and “yo” started slipping out naturally, almost without him realizing it. He spoke with more confidence, more swagger, his words carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before.

He even noticed how loud he’d become, but it wasn’t obnoxious—it felt like he was owning the room. His friends started to comment on it, but Alex didn’t mind. It felt like the way he was supposed to talk, like his voice was finally matching the rest of his transformation.

One night, Alex found himself scrolling through YouTube, where he came across a Dom Mazzetti video. He clicked on it, expecting to laugh at the over-the-top persona, but something else happened. As Dom joked about gym culture, diet, and lifting, Alex found himself nodding along, relating to the lifestyle. The gym wasn’t just a place to work out anymore—it was part of who he was becoming.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Alex’s days revolved around the gym, tanning, and repping his heritage with pride. He found himself following more content creators who embodied the same mindset—guys who lived for the grind, the lifts, and the pride in who they were.

His roommate Frank noticed the changes, too. “Bro, you’re looking jacked,” Frank said one afternoon as Alex flexed in the mirror before heading out to the gym. “You flexing the gains hard now.”

Alex grinned, running a hand through his hair, which he’d started gelling back every morning. “Yeah, man. It just feels right, you know?”

Frank clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smirk on his face. “Told ya. Once you get in the groove, there’s no going back. You’re one of us now, bro. Tanning, lifting, and heritage. Welcome to the crew.”

Alex chuckled, feeling Frank’s words sink in. Wasn’t just about the workouts or the diet no more. It was the whole package—the attitude, the pride, the way he carried himself. He’d become confident, bold, and unapologetic. The gym had become his temple, and every flex in the mirror, every perfectly tanned muscle, reminded him of how far he’d come.

He spoke with more confidence now, his voice carrying a thick Jersey accent that seemed to come naturally. Words like “bro” and “yo” slipped out effortlessly, and he found himself embracing the louder, more assertive side of himself. Even his walk had changed—there was more swagger, more presence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later, Alex and Frank were sitting in the living room, scrolling through profiles of potential new roommates. Their lease was ending soon, and they needed to find someone to fill the third room. Frank leaned back in his chair, sipping a protein shake as he swiped through a list of candidates.

“Yo, check this one out,” Alex said, pausing on a profile. “Marco Ricci. Italian last name.”

Frank raised an eyebrow and leaned in, studying the screen. “Oh shit, an Italian? That’s promising.”

They opened Marco’s profile, but instead of seeing someone flexing or rocking a tan, Marco looked... pretty regular. He wasn’t out of shape, but he wasn’t exactly lifting heavy either. Pale, with a pretty average physique, he was the kind of guy who didn’t seem to spend much time at the gym. His shirt was plain, and his expression, while friendly, was far from the confident swagger Alex and Frank had come to expect in their circle.

Alex chuckled, nudging Frank. “Dude’s kinda pasty, huh?”

Frank smirked. “Yeah, bro. Definitely needs some work. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know? He’s got the Italian blood—that’s what counts. We can mold him.”

Alex nodded, his mind already racing. Marco might not be there yet, but with the right guidance, who knows? The guy had potential. He just needed some direction.

“Yeah,” Alex said, swiping right on Marco’s profile. “We’ll get him there. If he’s down to move in, I have the perfect playlist in mind."

Frank chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Bro, he won’t know what hit him.”

Alex grinned, flexing in the mirror nearby. “Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?”

Frank laughed again, raising his protein shake in a mock toast. “Damn straight, bro."

WANNA BECOME A GUIDO FOR REAL? Try this subliminal:

Guido Subliminal (Accent, Mindset, Discipline, Extreme Confidence)

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Hey there!!!

This is my first time requesting on Tumblr and I am not sure if you're accepting requests or not so if you aren't feel free to ignore it.

Can you please write a short drabble on Rodrick and the reader being neighbours and the reader liking him but not telling him because he likes Heather. And then everything happening at rodrick's party.

And all the drama can go according to your imagination!

I am sorry for my bad English.

Have a good day/night/evening/afternoon.

Thank you.

ヽ｀、☁ヽ｀─── make you mine ミ rodrick heffley

✎ ·˚ ༘ ─── reader has a crush on rodrick but his eyes seemed to be locked on heather hills, but when greg takes notice of rodrick’s lyrics, his perspective begins to change.

wc: 1,333

movie!rodrick heffley x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), the use of y/n (your name)

tw: kissing (?)

a/n: your english is wonderful :)

HEATHER HILLS. The way her name rolled off of the tongue made her seethed in ways she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t because she was jealous of her, she knew that Heather Hills was gorgeous, but she (herself) was also just as beautiful. She liked her hair, she liked her body, she liked her style, and she liked Rodrick Heffley.

But his eyes seemed to be locked on Heather Hills. He always talked about her long blonde hair and how her outfits just perfectly fit her. It was Heather Hills this and Heather Hills that… but she let him go on about her.

It was an awful thing to do to herself, but here she was, once again, sitting with him in his dining room as he explained his plan to her.

His band, Löded Diper, had somehow convinced Heather to perform at her birthday party. She didn't know how they convinced her to let them play or even why for that matter, but it was good enough for Rodrick.

Her eyes watched as Rodrick scribbled down songs for them to potentially play at her party along with some newer lyrics that would "tell her how much he loved her", which she didn't quite understand. Rodrick hadn't really known Heather for long, quite literally meeting her at school when he was picking up Greg.

"... So, what do you think?"

She looked up from Rodrick's notebook and towards him. She was so in her own mind that she hadn't realized that he'd been speaking to her.

"I'm sorry." She muttered. "What did you say?"

"I asked if the hook should be changed so it fits for the party..." He answered. "Are you listening?"

"Yeah... yeah." She answered, sitting upright in her seat. "Sorry." She apologized once more and quickly gathered her belongings.

"What's wrong?" Rodrick asked, his brows furrowed by her sudden movements. "Where are you going?"

"I should head home." She said. "My mom is expecting me soon and I have to help her with dinner tonight."

Rodrick nodded, slowly standing up and following the girl to the front door. "I'll see you at Heather's party tomorrow, right?"

She closed her eyes for a moment before turning, her hand resting on the doorknob as she looked at him. She really didn't want to go to Heather's party and had planned on it, in fact, she was pretty sure it was an invite-only party and she hadn't gotten an invitation from the girl.

But she was pretty sure that Rodrick was going to find a way for her to get inside, invite or not.

So, she took in a small breath and nodded. "See you there."

With that, she quickly shut the door behind her and headed towards her car, and sped out of the Heffley driveway.

"I can't believe some of the stuff you write in here."

Rodrick quickly turned at the sound of the voice. It was Greg. He was standing at the dining room table with his eyes locked on Rodrick's songbook.

"Is this what being in love is like for you?" Greg asked. "If so, she just went out the door without a kiss goodbye."

Rodrick quickly marched over towards him and grabbed the book before he quickly hit Greg with it. "What are you talking about, dork?"

Greg muttered something under his breath, rubbing his arm in the process. "That stuff... that stuff you call music. That's about Y/N, isn't it?"

"What?" Rodrick scoffed. "No. This is for Heather's birthday tomorrow."

"You're going to sing a love song to another girl at Heather's birthday party?" Greg chuckled. "Are you crazy?"

"You're going to be crazy dead if you don't shut up." Rodrick barked and held his book in the air once more, prepared to hit Greg with it, but the younger boy quickly ran off before anything else could happen.

Rodrick heavily sighed and sat back down at the table. He flipped his book open and tapped back and forth against the table as he went over the lyrics once more, just to make sure everything was perfect for...

But the more he looked at his lyrics, the more and more that he imagined her… he only saw her.

With a heavier sigh, he shut his songbook and slumped down into his seat, rubbing his hands over his face before stopping halfway and sitting up quickly.

He knew what he had to do.

HEATHER’S PARTY was in full swing.

People had been partying for quite some time before she arrived. She obviously wasn’t going to upstage Heather, she didn’t think that was possible with how outlandish Heather’s party had been, but still, she chose to dress up for the party and stay until Rodrick’s band called it for the night, which may take hours at the rate this party was going.

But as soon as Rodrick set eyes on her, he sat his guitar down and told his band to just go with the flow until he got back.

He took in a deep breath, and gently shook his hands to bring himself some comfort. He titled his head side to side before finally reaching her side by the punch bowl.

“You made it.” Rodrick smiled.

She turned at the sound of his voice and nodded, taking a small sip from her drink. “Yeah, of course.” She smiled. “Couldn’t miss the best band play their biggest gig.”

Rodrick smiled at her words, whether or not she meant what she said didn’t matter. She said them to make him feel good, to bring him comfort over the fact that he was about to tell Heather Hills that he liked her.

Or so she thought.

“Did I miss your love bomb to Heather?” She asked.

And she really hoped she had.

“Uh, not quite, no.”

She furrowed her brows at his response. “Everything okay?”

Rodrick's heart was racing as he looked at her. He knew he needed to tell her how he felt; he just didn't know how. But as he looked into her eyes, he found himself lost for words. All he wanted to do was kiss her.

Without warning, he leaned in and captured her lips with his own. It was a soft, gentle kiss, but it was filled with all the emotion he had been trying to hide from her.

When they pulled apart, he could see the surprise in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

She blinked. “You’re- You’re sorry? What- What-“ She stammered, her face growing red as she flustered her words. “What about Heather?”

“I don’t think- It was never Heather was into.” He said. “I mean, yeah, she’s hot, but she doesn’t make me feel the way I do when I’m with you. All those songs I was writing were never about her.”

As Rodrick spoke, she could feel her heart racing. Did he really just say what she thought he said? Could it be possible that he liked her as much as she liked him?

"Really?" she asked, her voice soft.

He nodded. "Really.”

Without hesitation, she leaned in and captured his lips with her own. It was a deep, passionate kiss, filled with all the emotions they had been holding back for so long. Her body melted into his as their lips moved in perfect harmony, each kiss taking them deeper and deeper into the moment.

When they finally pulled away, they were left breathless and dizzy with desire. She looked up at him with a shy smile, her heart beating like a drum in her chest.

"I've loved you for so long," she said softly.

"I know," he replied, cupping her face in his hands. "I've loved you too, but I didn't have the courage to tell you until now."

She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. "I'm so glad you did," she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

This would be the only time that Rodrick would be thankful of Greg.

— lucy has something to say !!

i think i’m gonna start using you and yours again lol

but regardless, my request are opened! check out my rules and such before requesting and check out my masterlist to see who i write for!

[avatar-anna]

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

April 2016

“Thank you for meeting me.”

Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”

She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later. 

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.

Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”

“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”

“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”

That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined. 

“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”

“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”

“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion. 

Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”

Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t. 

“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”

“Oh.”

Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.

So yeah, she was a little bitter.

“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you.” 

Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.

When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”

“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”

She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.

“Wait!”

Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.

Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”

I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.

“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”

“What are they paying you?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”

“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.

“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”

More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”

“Harry—”

“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”

Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was. 

It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave. 

But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.

"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."

Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.

Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - So High School

Requested: nope

Swift Series

Warnings: low-key sad at the end

Lando Norris lay comfortably on the bed, propped up on his side, his fingers gently tracing random shapes on his girlfriend Y/n’s back. The room was softly lit, creating a warm, cozy atmosphere. Y/n was sitting up, crouched over the 'bedside piano' as Lando called it. It was simply a small piano she had for quick ideas. She held a notebook and pen in hand as she sang along and scribbled down lyrics. "I feel so high school-" She paused, tapping the pen off of her notepad. "So high school, thinking we were cool- no." She mumbled, scribbling the line out, before humming again to find the right words. "No, that's not it."

Lando watched her, a soft smile playing on his lips as he admired her dedication. "What about 'thinking we ruled the school'?" He suggested, his voice low and tender. Y/n turned slightly, glancing at him with a thoughtful expression. "Hmm, maybe. That could work." She jotted down the suggestion and sang the line again. "So high school, thinking we ruled the school-" She shook her head again. "No, not that either." Y/n sighed, flipping the page to see the part she wrote before. "Get my car door, isn't that sweet? Then you pull me to the backseat. You know how to make my heartbeat, don't you?" She showed Lando. "Do you think this line would be better or this one?" He read them both, shrugging. "I don't know, babe. You're the artist."

"Well how about, 'No one's ever had me, not like you'? How's that sound?" Lando jutted his lip out. "Sing it for me." She hummed along, tapping the piano keys gently. "I like it." He smiled. Lando continued tracing shapes, now more intricate patterns as he listened to her sing. Her voice was melodic, full of passion and creativity. She sang a few more lines, occasionally stopping to tweak a word or a phrase, her brow furrowed in concentration.

After a while, she picked up her camera, ready to record a demo. She set it up on the nightstand, making sure it captured her, her 'bedside piano' and the notebook. As she began to sing, Lando slowly stopped drawing the shapes, his focus instead fixed on her with an expression of pure adoration. Y/n sang the chorus with confidence, her voice filling the room. "Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game but really, I'm betting on all three, for us two. Get my car door, isn't that sweet? So pull me to the backseat. No one's ever had me, not like you."

Lando watched in awe as she poured her heart into the song, his admiration for her evident in his eyes. He felt a rush of pride and love, unable to look away from her radiant presence. When she finished the song, she stopped the recording and reached for the camera to play it back. As the video played, she noticed Lando’s reflection in the screen, his eyes filled with affection and wonder as he watched her sing.

She turned to him, her heart swelling with emotion. "You really love watching me, don't you?" Lando smiled, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I do. Biggest fan." Y/n leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. "How about I give my biggest fan a private show, then?" He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her as they lay back on the bed. "Yes please."

--------------

Months had passed since the breakup with Lando. Their lives, once intertwined so beautifully, had drifted apart under the pressures of their respective careers and personal differences. It had been a painful decision, one that still tugged at her heart despite the passage of time.

Y/n sat at a press event, zoning in and out of thoughts as the room buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Fans and reporters filled the space, eager to ask her questions about her new album. She smiled, fielding questions with grace and enthusiasm. "So yeah, that's why I chose to name the album The Tortured Poets Department." She smiled, looking around for other question. Her eyes fell to a young girl in the front. Her hand had been up for a while, so she figured why not? "Yes, yourself?" Y/n said. The fan stood up, holding the microphone. "Hi, Y/n. I'm a huge fan, I have been looking forward to this album for months. Y/n's face beamed upon hearing her words. "Lostening to the album, one song really stuck out to me that I loved, do my question is; what inspired 'So High School'?" Y/n's smile faltered for a brief second, memories of late-night songwriting sessions with Lando flooding her mind.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before answering. "It's about reminiscing on young love and the emotions that come with it. It's a reflection of a time when everything felt so intense and real." The fan nodded, satisfied with the answer, but Y/n could see the follow-up question forming in her eyes. "Was there a specific person or moment that inspired it?" Y/n hesitated, her heart aching at the thought of Lando. She chose her words carefully, masking the sadness that threatened to surface. "There were many moments and people who inspired the song. It's a mix of different experiences from my life."

As the event continued, Y/n maintained her cheerful demeanor, but inside, she felt the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. After the last question, she excused herself and slipped backstage, needing a moment to gather herself. She found a quiet corner and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. The memory of Lando's adoring gaze as she sang the demo played in her mind, a bittersweet reminder of what they once had. She missed him, missed the way he believed in her, missed the warmth of his touch. But she also knew that their paths had seperatrd for a reason. She had grown, both as an artist and as a person, and she hoped he had found happiness too.

Y/n straightened up, taking a deep breath. She wiped away the single tear that had escaped and put on a brave face. She had a career to focus on, fans who looked up to her, and a future that still held promise. As she stepped back into the bustling event, she reminded herself of the journey ahead. The past was a part of her, but it didn't define her. She would carry the memories with her, using them to fuel her music and inspire others. And that somewhere, she hoped, Lando was watching her with that same look of awe, proud of the woman she had become.

[milksuu]

…the poly sett/reader/aphelios… ur insane for that one… i need a follow up🤭

-🎧

❥ prompt: Sharing is caring. And so is getting along. When it comes to you, Sett and Aphelios are working on it. ❥ content/warnings: mild suggestive themes, fluff, teasing, cuddling, possessive boyfriend behavior ❥ characters/pairings: poly!heartsteel!settphel x f!reader

"This one is so cute, Sett. Your mama really knows which ones to get you," you smiled, rubbing your face against a PoroKing plushie.

"Oh, yeah. When it comes to Ma', I got lucky and ended up with the best," Sett said with a grin, "but, let's be honest here. You're the cutest thing on my bed right now."

Aphelios narrowed his eyes against his computer screen. Clicking and typing away. He was working on a sample Yone had sent him to dabble with for their next song. He would need to ensemble some lyrics to go along with it at some point. Except...he slapped his hands against his desk, turning a sharp chin towards you and Sett.

"Uh-oh," you said, wrapping your arms around Sett's neck. "I don't think Phelly likes us being all lovey-dovey without him."

"Looks like it," Sett agreed with a snaggle tooth smile. "I mean, he's free to come on over when he's done being glued to his computer. He's been ignoring us for hours. What did he expect?"

Aphelios popped the cap off a marker, took up his notepad, and scribbled:

I'm actually working. Unlike someone I know. I wOndEr wHo?

You gasped, covering your mouth. "Phelly's extra sassy today."

"Extra? Nah, he can be worse than this. Believe it or not, he's in one of his better moods today." Sett chuckled, lowering his head and planting a kiss to your collarbone. "Probably because you're here. But it's got me thinkin'. Wonder how his mood will change when I take you all for myself. Right in front of him."

You shuddered at the tingling feeling. "Don't you think you're being a little mean?"

"The boss can't be nice all the time. Sometimes, he's gotta play the big bad wolf," he grumbled a purr, carefully nipping at your chest with his canines. You couldn't help the fluttering of your eyelids and hitched moans.

Aphelios almost snapped the marker in half. He jumped out of his desk chair. And launched a calculated attack while Sett had his arms filled with you.

"Woah! Buddy. What're you doing—?" Aphelios snatched Sett's chin, and planted the black marker against his nose and cheeks. With quick strokes, he painted the look of an actual dog on his face. Whiskers, snout and all. "Wait, isn't this permanent marker!?" Sett released you from his hold, jumping out of the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom.

Aphelios released a 'hmph' with a satisfied glean in his eyes. He sat down next to you, laced his arms around you, and plopped you both against the bed.

"Maybe Phelly's the real villain," you commented, snuggling his bed of hair. "But you two need to play nice. Okay? That was a mean thing to do to Setty. You should both apologize."

There was a twitch in his brow. He was the mean one!? He needed to apologize!? He brought you closer, placing his face between your neck and shoulder. He shook his head back and forth.

"Yes. Phelly. It's the nice thing to do," you said softly. "I know you two won't always get along. But I know you both love each other very much. And I love you both very much, too. And we can show that when we apologize after we hurt one another. Right?"

Aphelios buried himself deeper into the crook of your neck. Muffling his whines and groans into the heat of your skin. He didn't like admitting fault. He'd rather throw a written apology into the nearest burning trash can than give it to the actual person. It wasn't his fault he tended to hold onto grudges. It was always the other person's fault for not taking his personality into consideration. If they cared enough, they would know that about him. And in that case, they were making the conscious decision to be put on his shit list. He was the reasonable one. As far as he could tell.

"Please, Phelly," you asked sweetly, planting a kiss to the top of his head.

He exhaled one last breath of resistance. Somehow, you always had an unfair advantage over him. Slowly, he left the warmth of your body. That was a painful in itself. He almost cowered back into your arms. Needing a bit more strength, he slipped his mask down, and took your lips. Applying just enough pressure to make you both moan. Alright. That's all he needed. He could do this. He took up his notebook and marker.

Just as Aphelios was about to leave the room, Sett appeared from the door. His cheeks bruised red from all the scrubbing he had to do. Aphelios shifted his gaze away. A silent grip ensnared the two. Sett rubbed the guilty knot at the back of his neck. After a moment of silence, he grumbled under his breath. "Listen, Phel—"

Aphelios flipped his notebook around:

Sorry.

Sett stumbled against his words. He hadn't expected Aphelios to be the one to apologize first. Or honestly, apologize in the first place. Technically, it was Sett's own fault for egging him on the way he did. Sett's trouble was evident in the frown lines against his face.

"Yeah. I'm sorry too, Phel." Sett sighed, ears drooped. "I shouldn't have teased ya'h like that. But I couldn't help it. I just wanted you to take a break and cuddle with us. That's all. Hope you can forgive me."

Aphelios paused. The marker squeaked against the paper. He tossed his chin away, cheeks stained pink. He flipped the notepad:

I'll forgive you. On one condition. I'm middle.

Sett's ears perked-up. Grinning like a panting pup, he swooped Aphelio's into his love-crushing arms. You laughed when Sett dove onto the bed, causing you to bounce from the weight. Unraveling Aphelios like a long awaited package, you and Sett planted kisses against his flushed cheeks. The both of you then secured your legs across him, took up his upper-body, and rubbed against his figure in every way possible. Aphelios whined and groaned. He wanted to be cuddled—not suffocated. Of course, with his luck, things had to turn out this way.

an: poly!settphel x reader is my new crack. give me all the fics pls. also, maybe the next part will be nsfw. hmmmm! thank you for the follow req. anon!

[goblinontour]

Slow Like Honey

heavy with mood

part 4 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), fluff, smut, masturbation (m receiving), cockwarming, unprotected sex, anal (f receiving), it’s sweet i promise, feelings, he’s complicated

word count: 7.8k

The days had begun to blur together in a comforting haze. You found yourself spending more time at Alex's, Mr. Turner's home, even when he wasn't there. It had become a second home, a sanctuary where you could feel close to him, even if he was still stuck at work. The privacy of his place was a solace for you, a retreat from the prying eyes you felt, that forced your relationship into the shadows. Well technically it wasn't a relationship, since you hadn’t outright put a label to the two of you, but pretty much…Yeah. You would say you were in a relationship.

It felt a bit like intruding at first, as if you were stepping into his world, a world you didn't fully belong to. But Alex had reassured you countless times. “I want you here.” he would say, his voice firm yet gentle, trying to get you to understand and break past the insecurities, eyes soft with sincerity. You believed him, or at least you tried to, as you navigated through the maze of his home, getting more familiar with the spaces that held little pieces of him.

On this particular day, you had finished classes early and made your way to his place without giving it any thought. It was like your body led you there automatically. The silence that followed as soon as you closed the door behind you was calming, a stark contrast to the usual hustle of campus life. You much preferred it here, where everything smelled like him, where you could feel his touch enveloping you just from the abundance of him in between those walls.

Wandering through the rooms, you ended up in his office, a place that still always seemed to hold an air of mystery. You were afraid of prying too much, but you remembered his words, saying you’re more than welcome to do whatever you wished.

Papers were scattered across his desk, more proof to his chaotic genius. Your eyes fell on a small stack of pages, partially hidden under a textbook. Curiosity piqued, you reached out, hesitant. You shouldn’t, really shouldn’t. But you were unable to stop yourself. As you straightened the papers, the sharp noise of them hitting the wooden desk echoing in your ears, the familiar handwriting caught your eye. Messy, all capital letters, just like when he scribbled on the board during lectures.

And so you began to read:

Your heart pounded as you finished reading his words, the room suddenly feeling warmer, smaller. It was unmistakable. Alex had written this about you. He had to, right? The realisation washed over you in waves, each one stronger than the last. The raw, poetic intensity of his words struck, unveiling a side of him he rarely showed so openly.

The lines echoed in your mind.

“You moved like honey in my dream last night”

The imagery was vivid, almost tangible. It was as if you could feel the warmth of his dreams, the gentle, lingering sweetness of them. The way he described you, not just as a presence but as something fluid, captivating, was intimidating.

“Does that scare you?”

The question hung in your mind, almost taunting. Did it scare you? Did he scare you? Perhaps…The depth of his feelings, the intensity of them…Fuck. It was a lot to take in. Yet, amidst the uncertainty and overwhelming nature of it, there was a thrill…Knowing he thought of you this way, dreamt of you, wrote about you with such passion and vulnerability, made your heart ache for him even more, in the best possible way.

“You’ll remember me like a melody”

And you did. He could read you so well. You did remember him, always. Even when he wasn't there, his presence lingered, like a song that played on a loop in your mind. And you always would.

“Slow like honey, heavy with mood”

You sat down at his desk, the pages trembling slightly in your hands. It was intimate, this glimpse into his mind, his heart. He had told you he was writing something about you, but seeing it, reading it…it was different. It was real, and it was beautiful.

As you carefully placed the pages back where you found them, your eyes caught a small scribble in the corner of one of them. A tiny heart, hastily drawn. It made you giggle to yourself like a teenager, imagining him writing about you, smiling as he let himself be young again in a way. The simple, unplanned gesture of just doodling a heart was special to you.

Despite the secrecy and everything, the need to keep your relationship hidden from the world, there was a connection between you and Alex, one that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. You felt more at home here, more connected to him, than ever before.

You decided to wait for him in the living room, curling up on the couch with a book. His words on those pages played over and over in your mind, a soothing, melodic reminder of the man you were falling for.

The evening had stretched on longer than Alex had anticipated. By the time he finally made his way home, the sky outside was a deep blue, the stars faintly twinkling. The weight of the day clung to him, tension coiled tight in his muscles, a dull ache in his temples. All he could think about was seeing you, being with you, finding some comfort in your presence.

Entering his home, the quiet greeted him first, a stark contrast to the clamour and chaos of his day, just as you’d felt. He called your name softly, not wanting to startle you if you were engrossed in something. No response. He moved through the rooms, his heart rate picking up slightly. He couldn’t fucking wait any longer to see you.

He found you in the living room, curled up on the small sofa, fast asleep. The sight of you, so serene, made his breath catch in his throat. The book you'd been reading lay abandoned on the floor beside you. You must’ve been tired. And he’d do anything for you to feel your best, all of the time, even if he didn’t have it in his power in reality.

Alex's eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail. The way your hair fell across your face, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath. And then, his gaze was drawn to the strip of skin exposed at your waist where your shirt had ridden up. The sight of it, so soft, so intimate, ignited a sudden need in him.

Why are you sleeping? he thought, frustration and desire mixing in his mind. I need you.

The day's stress melted away, replaced by a different kind of tension. His fingers itched to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin against his. He knelt beside the sofa, his hand hovering over your exposed waist, the urge to caress you almost unbearable.

Fuck, I need you so bad.

So, so close and yet so untouchable in your slumber. It was both a torment and a comfort. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger there for a moment. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he was afraid of waking you but couldn't resist the need to feel you, to connect with you even in this small way.

“Love,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, “I’m home.”

You stirred slightly, a soft murmur escaping your lips, but you didn't wake. Alex smiled, how couldn’t he, you were just too cute. He settled himself on the floor beside the sofa, resting his head on the cushion near yours.

For now, he would stay here, close to you, drawing comfort from your presence, still captivated by your serene form. As he sat there, he removed his suit jacket, tossing it aside. He unbuttoned his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, seeking a bit more comfort after such a long day. Kicking off his shoes, he let out a soft sigh, the tension of slowly ebbing away as he watched you.

Time seemed to stretch on, the quiet of the moment enveloping him. The longer he watched you, the more he felt an overwhelming sense of possessiveness and affection. It was getting late, and he knew he couldn't leave you on the couch all night. With a gentle, practised ease, he lifted you into his arms. You fit perfectly against him, your head resting on his shoulder, your body soft and warm in his embrace.

Holding you close, Alex carried you to the bedroom, each step a reminder of how deeply he cared for you. He laid you down on the bed with the utmost care, making sure you settled comfortably on the mattress. You shifted slightly, a soft, contented sigh escaping your lips as you burrowed deeper into the comforter he draped over you.

He stood there for a moment, watching you with a tender smile. Having you here, so close and yet so unaware of his presence, felt incredibly liberating. The doubts and uncertainties that had plagued him for so long seemed to dissolve in this quiet moment. He finally came to terms with the depth of his feelings for you, the realisation washing over him.

It felt good. He finally felt good. Like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He no longer needed to question or doubt what he felt. You were here, with him, and that was all that mattered.

He climbed into bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. You squirmed and murmured in your sleep, drawing a soft chuckle from him and his need for you intensified again, suddenly taking over. You looked so peaceful, so innocent. It stirred something within him.

As he watched you, he couldn't help but let his hand drift down to his pants. His fingers gently massaged at his bulge over the material, a low groan escaping his lips as he felt himself harden. The sensation was electric. The pleasure filled his need that he just couldn't ignore anymore.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, not without you knowing, but the desire was too strong to resist. His hand moved more insistently, rubbing and pushing harder against his cock, the friction driving him wild.

Desperation overtook him, and he unbuckled his belt with shaky fingers, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down. He rubbed his hard cock through his boxers, the material already damp where his tip was leaking, the grey fabric turning dark. The sight of that alone sent another jolt of arousal through him.

He could see himself clearly, the head of his cock straining against the damp fabric. He thrust his hips into nothing, the sensation heightened by the roughness of the material. His fingers gripped the fabric intently, pulling it tight over the sensitive head of his cock, the friction almost making it hard for him to last any longer but it felt so, so good.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the pleasure building with each movement. The rough feeling against his most sensitive skin sent waves of ecstasy through him, the sensation unlike anything he'd ever felt. He was completely lost in the moment, every thought consumed by his need for release.

Alex's body tensed, the pleasure reaching a fever pitch. His thrusts became more frantic, his grip on the fabric tightening. The roughness, the heat, the sheer intensity of it all was too much to bear. With a final, shuddering gasp, he gave in, his body convulsing as he came, the orgasm washing over him, blurring his vision and other senses.

And then the room was quiet again, save for the sound of his ragged breathing. As the euphoria faded, a wave of embarrassment unexpectedly crashed over him. He looked down at himself, the darkened, damp spot on his boxers a very clear, stark reminder of his impulsive need. He shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks burning with a mix of shame and lingering desire haunting him.

With a sigh, he stood up, careful not to wake you. He walked to the bathroom, stripping off his soiled boxers and tossing them into the laundry basket. The cool air against his skin helped clear his mind, grounding him as he grabbed a fresh pair of boxers and slid them on.

Returning to the bedroom, he felt a pang of guilt. You were peacefully asleep, yet unaware of the internal struggle he had just faced. He hesitated for a moment before climbing back into bed beside you. He longed to pull you into his arms, to feel your warmth and reassurance but the embarrassment lingered, making him second-guess his every move.

Instead, he turned his back to you, curling up on his side. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Desire, shame, love, doubt…He stared into the darkness, willing himself to calm down, to let go of the guilt gnawing at him.

Just as he was beginning to settle, he felt you stir behind him. In your sleep, you turned to face him, your body naturally seeking his warmth. You nestled against him, your arm draping over his waist as you spooned him, pulling him closer.

The instant your body pressed against his, Alex felt a rush of relief. The doubts that were just plaguing him began to dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of comfort. He could feel your steady breaths against his back, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

In your unconscious embrace, he found the reassurance he needed. You didn’t even need to say a thing. The warmth of your body, the way you instinctively held him close, were enough. The level to which something so simple affected him spoke volumes. He questioned whether he should be scared by how much power you had over him…but he didn’t mind. Not at all. Just feeling you was a silent affirmation that you were there for him. Really there. That you accepted him, even in his moments of vulnerability.

His tension melted away, replaced by that same peace he felt just earlier. He allowed himself to relax into your hold, his embarrassment fading into the background of his mind. Turning his head slightly, he caught a glimpse of your peaceful face, your features soft and relaxed in sleep. A small smile tugged at his lips as he marvelled at how effortlessly you managed to calm his storm, even without knowing it. He could feel the affection swell in his chest. Physically. He knew it wasn't possible, but he did.

Alex closed his eyes at last, his breathing evening out as he let himself drift off. The doubts, confusion, everything that had clouded his mind for a brief moment was gone, replaced by a certainty that he was where he belonged. In your arms. He felt safe.

As sleep claimed him, he whispered softly into the darkness, words meant for you, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him, he was certain they’d get to you. “Thank you…” he murmured, his voice barely audible, “…For being here.”

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the whole room. You stirred awake from the feeling of the gentle pressure Alex's lips left on the side of your face. His kisses were light and tender, a sweet way to wake up. As you opened your eyes, he moved to kiss the tip of your nose, making you giggle as his stubble tickled your skin.

“You’re awake.” he murmured with a smile, his voice still rough from sleep. It had a deep, gravelly timbre that sent shivers down your spine, each word vibrating with unfiltered warmth. There was a certain rasp to it, a lazy drawl that spoke of comfort, like the gentle rumble of distant thunder. Every little sound seemed to come from deep within his chest, resonating with a sleepy overtone. You would never get used to it. Getting to hear him like that felt like a privilege.

You laughed from the ticklish sensation, and he took that as his cue to tackle you playfully, straddling your waist. His kisses became more fervent, pressing all over your face and neck. At one point, he even licked into your nostril, making you laugh harder and squirm beneath him.

“Alex!” you protested between fits of laughter.

He grinned mischievously, but, eventually, you both calmed down, his body weight a comforting presence pressing on top of you. You looked up at him and your heart swelled at seeing him so…normal, human. His hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions with a few pieces falling over his face. His eyes were still puffy from sleep, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his skin. The scent of him, so distinctly him, so Alex, that you had become so familiar with, addicted even, grounded you in the moment.

“How did I end up in bed?” you asked, the events of the previous night a bit blurry.

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I found you asleep in the living. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t have the heart to wake you. So I carried you here.”

Your heart melted at his words. It was something so simple and had a sort of cheesy quality to it, but you couldn’t help being affected. You reached up, pulling him down for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and he responded eagerly, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed your sides.

The taste of his mouth was raw and intimate, a blend of sleep and that natural musk that was so uniquely him, so comforting. As his tongue brushed against yours, breaths mingling together, you tasted the lingering sweetness of last night’s tea he must’ve had. The kiss was slow and unhurried, each movement savoured, each touch a deliberate caress.

His breath completed yours, creating a shared warmth that seemed to bind you closer. You could feel the growing stubble on his chin, a pleasant roughness on your skin, adding another layer of sensation. His hands traced slow, deliberate paths up and down your sides, moving with tender curiosity, leaving a trail of tingling awareness in their wake.

Between kisses, he murmured, “What do you want to do today? It’s Saturday, and we’re both free.”

The question was almost lost in the intimacy of the moment, his voice a gentle vibration against your lips. His fingers splayed across your back, pulling you closer, as if the physical proximity wasn’t quite enough to satisfy him. The kiss deepened, becoming slower and each move made with utmost effort, as if he was trying to pour all his love into it.

You paused your kissing to take a good look at him. His hair, his sleepy eyes, everything about him in this moment was perfect. But you had something on your mind. "

“Can I ask you something?” you said softly.

He groaned in playful protest. “Baby, keep kissing me.” he murmured, nuzzling into your neck.

You laughed, running your fingers through his messy hair. “I promise I will, just let me ask this first.”

He sighed dramatically but nodded. “Fine, but only if you keep kissing me after.”

You agreed with a smile. "I found something yesterday...in your office," you began hesitantly, “Some pages with your writing. There was a little heart scribbled on one of them…Is that about me?”

He tensed slightly at your words, his body stilling as he processed what you said. His mind raced with feelings of vulnerability and apprehension. He had never meant for you to see that, not yet anyway…maybe not ever. But now that you had, there was no going back.

“Can you tell me more about what you read?” he asked, his voice cautious.

You repeated some of the lines you had seen, the words etched in your mind. As you spoke, his expression softened, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

“Yes…” he admitted quietly. “It's about you. I wasn't finished with it yet and you-…you weren’t meant to find it.”

You watched him carefully, seeing the mix of emotions playing across his face. His thoughts were a whirlwind. On one hand, relief that you had read his feelings, but on the other, a weird anxiety over your reaction.

“Are you upset?” you asked gently, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his back.

“Me?” he shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “No, no…not upset. Just...vulnerable, I guess. And nervous. That’s how I feel about you, and having you read it before I was ready to show you is a bit daunting."

You smiled, pulling him closer. “I think it’s beautiful, Alex. I love it…It-it means a lot to me that you feel that way.”

His eyes softened further, the tension leaving his body. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “Thank you.” he whispered. “You mean a lot to me.”

You kept your promise, continuing to kiss him. As his lips moved against yours, his earlier apprehensions melted away, replaced by a sense of acceptance. He cuddled into you, his body fitting perfectly against yours. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and he sighed contentedly.

“I like having you around the house more often.” he murmured, his voice low and almost whispered. “I like sitting like this.”

You chuckled softly, a playful glint in your eyes. “You know, it's usually me sitting in your lap, not the other way around. Are you getting soft on me, Mr. Turner?”

He looked up at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe…” he admitted, his tone light but sincere as he nuzzled his face back into your chest. “It's a comfort thing.” he confessed.

“Well then, I guess I can be your pillow once in a while.” you teased, running your fingers through his hair. “I like being here too. It feels like home.”

Alex's heart swelled at your words. He moved up to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. “You made me different by taking me out of the natural order of things.” he said quietly.

His admission wrapped around you like a warm blanket, the sincerity in his tone touching you deeply. “And uhm…different is…good?” you asked shyly.

“You make everything better just by being here.” he clarified.

You felt a rush of affection, your heart beating a little faster. The intimacy of the moment, the quiet confessions and the warmth of his body against yours, it all made you feel closer to him than ever. “You’ve changed me too,” you replied, "And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

Alex's eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned in to kiss you again, gently, his lips brushing yours with a certain intention now. When he pulled back, his eyes were soft and filled with emotion. “Thank you,” he whispered, “For being here.” Those same words he said to you last night as you were sleeping, now sure you heard them.

You held him tighter, feeling the truth of his words resonate within you. “Always.” you promised.

With that, you settled into each other's arms just for a little while longer, the morning light still casting its warm glow over you.

The days started to blur together in a whirlwind of work obligations and assignments. Your schedules were both relentlessly busy, leaving little time for each other. The moments you did manage to steal were fleeting, filled with quick kisses and tired smiles.

It became a bit of a habit for Alex to touch himself while you were asleep, his way of feeling close to you when time and circumstances played to keep you apart. Most nights, he would come home late to find you already asleep, or he just couldn’t fall asleep until he relieved the tension building inside him.

Tonight was no different. Lying next to you in the dim light of the bedroom, he felt the familiar ache building inside of him, the need to have you in some way, even if you were unaware.

His fist bunched up the sheets around his cock, thrusting into the soft fabric. His other hand covered his mouth, stifling the sounds threatening to escape. He still felt like a dirty little boy doing it, the shame mingling with the pleasure in a strange way. He didn’t necessarily dislike it. It was almost like he chased it.

The friction of the sheets was relentless, rough against his sensitive skin, the sensation almost too intense but exactly what he needed, his hips moving in a rhythm that matched his growing desperation.

Physically, he was overwhelmed by the sensations. The heat, the pressure, the rawness gnawing at him from the fabric rubbed against his skin roughly.

Emotionally, he was torn. The act itself made him feel vulnerable, exposed even to himself. It was a way to have you, to feel connected, but it also left him feeling more alone, more aware of the distance that busy lives and late nights created between you.

He couldn't help his hand from moving faster, the ever-growing need for release driving him to the edge of insanity as the rustling of the sheets grew louder in the otherwise silent room.

“Fuck…” With a strained groan, he finally came, swearing under his breath. His cock throbbed in his hand, each pulse sending ropes of release onto his fingers and the sheets. The warm, sticky cum spilled mingled with the sweat from his efforts. His breath came in ragged gasps as he rode out the climax, his grip on the fabric tightening as he tried to stifle any sounds that might wake you.

Just as he was riding out the last of his orgasm, his hips bucking in broken thrusts, you stirred in your sleep. The noise beside you had pulled you from your slumber, and it took a moment for you to realise what was happening. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, spotting the tainted sheets, his hand still holding them wrapped around his cock.

“What are you doing, Alex?” you asked, your voice groggy with sleep and confusion.

His heart skipped a beat, panic flooding his system as he realised he was caught. He froze, his eyes wide, full of shock and embarrassment. The reality of the situation hit him. Hard. He was exposed, vulnerable, his most private act laid bare before you.

“I-Fuck-...l'm sorry.” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. He felt a rush of shame, cheeks burning with humiliation. “I didn't mean to wake you. I just...needed to-to- uhm…”

You blinked, the sleep clearing from your eyes as you took in the scene. You reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “It's okay, Alex. You don't have to be embarrassed.”

He searched your eyes for judgement but…he found none. Instead, there was understanding, a softness that eased his frantic heart slightly. “I feel so stupid,” he admitted, wiping his hand with a tissue he had nearby, “Like a…dirty boy. But I couldn't help it. I needed...something. I missed you.”

You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him. “Hey.” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. “If you need me, just wake me up.”

His breath hitched, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I didn't want to bother you. You're always so tired.”

“You're never a bother to me.” you assured him, your voice firm. “I don’t care how tired I am…I’ve missed it too...”

He felt a rush of gratitude, the weight of his shame lifting as he held you close. “Yeah…okay.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We should sleep now…I think.” he continued.

Instead of agreeing, you looked up at him, a shy suggestion on your lips. “Do you want to maybe…be inside me?”

He looked startled, his vulnerability still evident. “I...I can't.” he stammered, his cheeks flushing. “I just... you know.” he said pointing with his eyes in the direction of his crotch, implications clear.

“We don’t have to.” you said softly, your voice soothing. “It's just so we can feel close, if you want.”

He hesitated, but the longing in your eyes made him nod reluctantly, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. As he lay back down, you curled up next to him. You both shifted, facing each other. You placed a leg over his hips, your bodies intertwining.

He was still a bit hard, just enough to align the tip of his cock to your sopping centre and slip inside you. He entered you, pushing inside you slowly, and your slick coated him. Always ready for him. Your brims agape with a gentle moan until he bottomed out with a husky growl, elated that you were connected again. The sensation was immediate, a release of the tension you hadn't even realised you were feeling. Your body shivered at his touch, every nerve ending alive with sensitivity.

He let out a shaky breath, his voice hushed. “You feel so good.”

“So do you.” you whispered back, your eyes locked on his. The intimacy was overwhelming, a connection deeper than words could express. You both held each other, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

“Shhh baby, go back to sleep.” he whispered.

Slowly, the tension eased, and you both began to relax, still joined together. The feeling of him inside you was comforting.

As sleep began to overtake you both, he murmured, “I love you.” his voice filled with awe and contentment.

“I love you too.” you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

With that, you both drifted off, holding each other close, the intimacy of the moment lingering. The warmth of your connection soothed away any stress. In the quiet of the night, with you like that, he felt whole again, for the first time in days, he felt truly connected.

The night wore on, and as morning came, you were slowly roused by a subtle, rhythmic movement. It took a moment to register, to realise what was happening, your mind groggy and still half-asleep. Alex was thrusting inside you, his cock fully hard and deep. The unexpected sensation was overwhelming, your body still sensitive and sore from having him inside you all night.

You could feel every inch of him as he moved, his cock stretching and filling you with each thrust, your tender walls protesting yet responding to his unintentional need. His breath was heavy and uneven, a mix of deep sleep and subconscious desire. Carefully, you reached out and touched his shoulder, trying to wake him without startling him.

“Alex.” you whispered, your voice gentle. “Alex, wake up.”

He stirred, his movements slowing as he woke up, confusion clouding his eyes. “Wha-what's happening?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“You were...moving inside me.” you explained softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think you were dreaming.”

Realization dawned on his face, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh God, I'm sorry,” he stammered, starting to pull away, “I didn't mean to-“

You stopped him with a gentle hand on his cheek. “It's fine.” you reassured him. “It felt...good, actually.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Yes.”

He took a deep breath, his body relaxing against yours once more. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No, not at all.” you replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Okay.” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort you might be hiding from him. Finding none, he allowed himself to relax, his forehead resting against yours.

Alex moved slightly, his length still nestled inside you. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but gasp softly. He looked at you, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You smiled, nodding. “More than.” you assured him. “I just...it feels so good to be close to you like this. I missed it.”

He let out a sigh of relief, his own need still simmering beneath the surface. “It does…” he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don't want to let go.”

“Don't.” you whispered back, tightening your embrace around him.

He nodded, his forehead still pressed against yours as he began to move again, this time with more intention. The rhythm of his thrusts was slow and gentle, trying his best to trap the moment in his mind, how each part of you felt.

The room was silent around you, the only sounds were your shared breaths, the soft rustling of the sheets, and the bed he still hadn’t fixed.

“Missed you so much.” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and gratitude.

You replied with a kiss to his swollen lips. He moaned into it. You think you did too, but you didn’t know for sure, your focus only on the way he felt as he glided into you.

As Alex continued to move inside you, his thrusts became more urgent, his breathing more ragged. “I wanna cum inside you.” he murmured, his voice desperate and pleading.

“We can't.” you replied, trying to stay firm, but the raw need in his voice made it hard.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking with desperation, “Please…Tell me I can fill this pussy, tell me I can fill you up.”

You didn't know what to say, torn between your own desire and the practicality of your situation. His pleading continued, the vulnerability in his eyes breaking down your resolve.

A memory surfaced, unbidden, of that one time on the train. Your first time together. The way it felt to have him pulsing inside you, filling you completely. The sensation of his release, the warmth spreading through you, the closeness of it all. It had been such a special moment. You remembered the way he had clung to you, the feeling of every pulse of his orgasm inside you.

You wanted that again. You wanted to feel him release inside you, to experience that closeness once more. The thought made your doubts waver, and you suddenly felt a deep ache of longing.

“Maybe we-we could try...something else.” he suggested hesitantly, breaking you out of your thoughts, his voice barely a whisper. “Only if you want to.”

The idea of what he implied made your heart race. “I've never done that.” you admitted, your voice small as could be.

“Neither have I.” he confessed. “But we could try it if...if you want. If not, it's okay. I don't want to pressure you. Just forget I even mentioned it.”

“You've been thinking about trying it?” you asked, surprised by the revelation.

His cheeks flushed, and he looked away, suddenly shy. “Yeah...I mean, only if you wanted to. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Your heart softened at his honesty. You didn't want to deny him, so you nodded slowly.

He could see your hesitation. “You really don't have to. We can just forget about it if you're not comfortable.” he quickly added.

The idea was intriguing. You’d never given it much thought. None, to be honest. But now you wanted it. “I wanna try.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled, relief washing over his features. “Stop me anytime, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“Turn around.” he instructed gently.

You shifted, letting him slip out of you, feeling an immediate emptiness. Turning your back to him, you could feel his cock poking against your skin. He nuzzled it between your thighs, continuing to rub and spread your wetness. His hips moved slowly, rutting himself against you to feel you the best he could, the sensation both comforting and arousing. He couldn’t let himself inside you. Not yet.

Alex wet his thumb in his mouth, and you heard the popping noise as he let go of it. You braced yourself, feeling his thumb gently rub around your rim. The sensation felt foreign, sending shivers throughout your whole body as he was begging for permission. But it was him. You trusted him. You knew it would be okay.

He pushed in carefully, and you both gasped when he broke past the initial resistance. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “Does it feel okay?”

“It feels different.” you admitted, trying to find the right words. “But not bad.”

He continued to push his thumb in and out, trying to open you up. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant, just unfamiliar. He took his time, working at you with his thumb. The initial pressure gave way to a gentle rhythm as he eased in and out, moving in slow, deliberate circles. Each movement was meant to help you relax, to get you accustomed to the feeling.

He gradually switched to his middle finger, the added length making you gasp again. He kept his movements gentle, always checking to ensure you were comfortable, using his leaking precum to make everything glide easier.

“Doing great, darling,” he murmured, his voice soothing, “Just breathe.”

His fingers worked carefully, stretching you. When he felt you had loosened up enough, he added another finger, much less resistance now. The sensation was fuller, more intense, but still bearable. Alex continued to move his fingers in slow circles, spreading the slickness and making sure you were ready.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

“It feels…better.” you replied, feeling yourself gradually adjusting. “I think I’m ready.”

He removed his fingers, and you felt the temporary loss, that emptiness, again. He positioned his cock at your hole, rubbing it gently against the entrance. The sensation was unusual, and you took a deep breath, trying to relax. He spat into his hand, rubbing the saliva there to make it easier for him to slide in. The sound of it right next to your ear startled you, making you twitch in his arms.

Alex shifted slightly, adjusting his position so he could see your face. He wanted to watch your expression, to make sure you were okay with every step. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his breath warm and reassuring.

“Ready?” he whispered, his voice soft, softest you’d ever heard it.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of nerves and anticipation. “Yes.” you breathed, looking into his eyes for comfort.

He rubbed at your entrance, teasing but not quite entering, allowing you to relax. He could feel your body tense in his arms, so he moved slowly, his patience unwavering. Your hole gradually gave in, opening slightly each time his cock brushed right in the middle, but not quite letting him in.

“I'm gonna push it in now, yeah?” he whispered, seeking your consent.

“Okay.” you whispered, bracing yourself.

He pressed the tip of his cock against your opening, slowly easing it in with the help of his thumb. The sensation was odd, the tightness and pressure feeling strangely good. He moved cautiously, breaking past the resistance slowly. You both gasped loudly as he penetrated you, the mix of discomfort and pleasure making your senses reel.

The sensation on his cock intense and different from anything he'd felt before. The tightness, the resistance, and the sheer novelty of it made him gasp. For you, the feeling was overwhelming, he felt so much bigger than normally, stretching you in ways you didn’t imagine.

He held still for a moment, letting you adjust to the intrusion. Completely still and you were such a mess, your body so sensitive to his touch.

“You okay?” he asked again, his voice tender.

“Yeah.” you breathed, the fullness making you feel incredibly close to him, even if in reality he only just got the tip in. “Just go slow.”

He nodded, his movements careful and calculated. The initial resistance gave way to a strange but pleasurable fullness, and you could feel him so well. His cock felt different here, the contours of it sharper and more pronounced.

His breath was ragged, his body tense as he tried to keep his movements slow and gentle, savouring every moment of this.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his voice a mix of awe and concern.

“It's...intense,” you replied, your breath hitching, "But it feels good."

He smiled, his own pleasure evident as he continued to move slowly, cherishing the feeling of being inside you in this new way. The connection between you felt deeper, not only physically, just more intimate, as you were sharing a part of yourselves you hadn't before.

With each slow thrust, the discomfort eased, replaced by a growing pleasure. You clung to him, your bodies moving in sync, the room filled with your shared breaths and quiet moans.

As he was approached the edge, his movements became more urgent, driven by that primal need for release overtaking. You could feel the tension building within him, his breath quickening against your skin. Each thrust became more powerful, deeper, as he surrendered to the sensation building inside him, but he still tried to hold back, as much as he could.

Your own arousal heightened in response to his escalating rhythm. The motion of his body against yours was intoxicating, the noises of skin sticking together amplifying with each thrust. Your nails grazed his arm, urging him on, both your gasps and moans mingling in the air.

His arm, which had been wrapped securely around you, began to move. He snaked it down between your thighs, his fingers deftly finding their way to your cunt. He touched your clit with gentle but precise circles, knowing exactly what you needed. All you needed.

“Alex.” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

He responded by increasing the pressure, his fingers moving in perfect sync with his thrusts. The combination of his cock filling you and his fingers working your clit was overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge by the second. He knew your body so well, every touch and movement perfectly calibrated to bring you the most pleasure.

“You feel so good.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I love watching you like this.”

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, your hips rocking against his hand. The pleasure built rapidly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you neared your peak.

“Alex, I'm so close.” you moaned, your voice a desperate whisper.

“I know.” he replied, his fingers never faltering.

Your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you trembling in his arms. He continued to move, his own release approaching fast, the feeling of your body tightening and pulsing around his cock pushing him over the edge.

“God, I'm coming.” he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic.

And then, it happened. With a low groan, he buried himself inside you, his body tensing as he spilled his load into you. You felt the pulsing of his release, the warmth spreading as he emptied himself, a sensation that sent shivers down your spine, and you didn’t even realise how much you truly missed it.

He held you close, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm until, finally, he stilled, his forehead resting against yours. You both lay there, wrapped in each other, the afterglow of it enveloping you.

He kissed you tenderly, his breath warm against your lips, before he collapsed gently against you, his breath ragged against your ear, his forehead hot and wet on yours.

Words seemed unnecessary in that moment, for now at least. Your bodies spoke a language of their own, reaffirming your bond yet again. As you lay intertwined, the sensation of him inside you lingered.

When he slowly withdrew from you, a mix of emotions flooded your senses. There was a gentle ache, a reminder of him left on your body. His touch, as he moved, was tender, almost reverent. You felt his warmth still inside of you, a soft trickle following, a gentle slickness where your bodies had connected, the undeniable physical evidence of it.

Turning to him, you caught his gaze, your eyes locking in a silent understanding of how much what you’d just done meant for both of you. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, surprised by the intensity of your own reactions. Yet, there was also a sense of fulfilment, knowing it was a first for you both, putting you on the same level for once. It was special for you, being a first for him.

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tender smile. “You okay? You’re quiet…” he whispered, his voice oozing with concern and affection.

You nodded, biting your lip shyly, unsure how to articulate the mix of emotions swirling inside. “Yeah.” you finally managed, your voice barely audible. “Just feeling everything.”

He nodded understandingly, drawing you into his arms again, holding you close as if he was shielding you from any uncertainty. The feeling of having a part of him inside you still made your mind wander away. How could you go on not letting him spill inside you every time from now on.

You both lay there, still entwined, breathing heavily as the last remnants of pleasure subsided. His fingers traced soft patterns on your skin, a silent reminder of his presence and care. Eventually, he shifted slightly, propping himself up on an elbow and turning you to look at him.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice stern against the quiet of the room.

You nodded, meeting his gaze with a smile that mirrored the warmth in his eyes. “Yeah, more than okay. That was...incredible.”

He chuckled softly, a sound filled with relief. “It was.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your breathing. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a gesture that felt both familiar and comforting.

“I love being with you.” he murmured, his tone laced with sincerity.

You squeezed his hand gently, “Me too. I wish we could be ourselves all the time.”

He nodded in agreement, his expression soft but slightly saddening at the implication. “Yeah…Me too.”

With a gentle kiss, he reaffirmed his love for you, a promise that this moment, and the feelings it evoked, would be remembered. For him it was a promise that he’d make your wish come true someday.

a/n: Okay so…I feel like I use “…” too much but I can’t help it, anyway! The little thing “he wrote” are just some lyrics from “Slow Like Honey” by Fiona Apple (hence the title) and I just picked the bits I thought fit best for this. I was listening to it and randomly focused on the lyrics and thought ‘omg yeah, that’s fucking perfect!’ I feel like this part is a bit cheesy in places but I hope it’s not unbearable, he’s just a softie and needs loads of reassurance and I have to give it to him. There will be a part 5 as well if anyone would still be interested in that, I already got the ideas of what I want to happen but I thought it would be too much to fit into this part, I feel like the ending here is in a good spot. Oh and the picture of the pages is with his actual handwriting that I made into a font, thought it was cute.

tags: @4chaos @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @ohladymoon @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @menace-to-the-devil @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @feyasgotgroove @aacheinthejaw @hellcatshalalalaa @zayndrider @humbuginmybones

[the-froschamethyst4]

“My daddy can beat your daddy up”

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Father! König x Wife! Mother! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, wholesome, children, language, daddy König & mommy Y/n, fighting/arguing, badly translated German

König’s and Y/n’s 5 year old daughter had a bit of an argument with another little girl at her school

Which led to a small fight and the parents having to be called down to speak with the Principal

And König shows up to the school and the parents of the other little girl are a little frightened that HE is the father of that little girl

——————

———————

6:30AM

Y/n’s and König’s little daughter Heidi was getting her uniform on to get ready for school. Y/n made Heidi her favorite and poured her some orange juice too.

Heidi came running down the stairs and got in her spot at the table. König’s face in the newspaper but placed it down when he heard Heidi’s chair being pulled out.

“Schatz (honey) don’t forget we need bread and milk. I’ll be working late again,” he said, picking up his mug. “Or else I would get it for us.”

“No, it’s fine, yeah I’ll go stop by the store after I drop Heidi off at school,” she said as she walked over kissing his cheek and sitting next to Heidi who was stuffing her face.

—————

König was getting his clothes on and Y/n walked in changing her shirt and getting shorts on in the process.

König watched her in the mirror her body and smirked to himself, and looked down at his boots.

“I see that little bruise on your side schatz, did I do that from last night?” König teased. Y/n looked down at her hip and saw the small dark bruise.

“I guess so,” she said.

“I have to get going.” König said, coming closer to Y/n and kissing her forehead. “I’ll see ya later.”

“Bye, love you!”

“Ich liebe dich auch (I love you too),” he yells back.

“HEIDI COME ON, WE HAVE TO GO!!” Y/n’s yells for her daughter.

They left the house and Y/n buckled her daughter in her car seat. Heidi moved her head side to side, her hands tapping the arms of her car seat and humming a song that was playing on the radio.

“Mama.”

“Yes, baby?”

“When does school end?”

“Time or officially done and ready for summer?” Y/n asked, looking up in the rear view mirror to look at her daughter.

“Ummmm~ I don’t know anymore,” Heidi said as she went back to humming.

“Okay?” Y/n giggled. “Heidi, when I’m at the store, do you want me to get you anything?”

“Candy!”

“I’ll get you one bag of candy.”

“Okay,” she smiles as Y/n pull into the schools parking lot. Y/n got out and opened the back door and unbuckled her daughter. Y/n placed Heidi on the ground and grabbed her backpack and put it in Heidi’s back.

Heidi held Y/n’s hand and walked to the entrance of the school. Y/n bent down kissing Heidi’s forehead.

“I’ll see you later, baby.”

“Okay, mama, bye-bye,” Heidi smiled as she skipped into the school building after giving her Principal a fist bump.

——————

Y/n got to the store grabbing things they need at the house, she even grabbed some cleaning supplies for the house.

Y/n hummed a soft tune as she filled the cart with stuff for the house, food and even cleaning supplies. Y/n liked to clean if only you could see how CLEAN that house was.

——————

Heidi sat at her desk, a coloring sheet in front of her and a few crayons in front of her, she was coloring badly but to her, it looked like Picasso.

“I know how to color in the lines, unlike you,” Heidi looked up seeing Emma.

She was kind of bossy, Heidi didn’t like her but was always taught by Y/n to always be nice even if certain people didn’t deserve it.

“So? I’m trying and we’re in Kindergarten,” Heidi reminded her.

“And some of us still act like babies,” Emma stuck her tongue out at Heidi.

“Why are you so mean?”

“I AM NOT MEAN!”

“You are. I didn’t do anything to you,” Heidi said as she colored her picture. Emma grabbed a yellow crayon and scribbled a line all over Heidi’s picture.

Heidi stood up dropping her crayon and turned to Emma. Heidi pushed Emma to the ground.

Emma started to cry and Heidi got on Emma, pulling at her hair and threw the first punch and Emma cried and tried to push Heidi off her.

Heidi watched the blood trickle from Emma’s nose.

“HEY MÄDELS (hey girls)!!” The teacher yelled breaking up the fight between both girls.

Yeah…Heidi might have been taught to be nice by Y/n but König secretly taught her how to fight.

——————

König walked around the compound making sure everything was going smoothly till he heard his phone ring.

He looked down seeing Heidi’s school calling.

“Aww nichts (shit),” he mumbled. “Hello?” König tried to put on a fake happy tone.

“Hi, is this Heidi’s father?”

“Yes? Is everything okay?”

“I’m afraid not…your daughter Heidi had gotten into…an altercation with another female student, and I would like for you or your wife or the both of you to please come down to the school.”

“Yes. I will let my wife know. We’ll be there soon,” König hung up and rubbed his nose bridge. “Oh Baby, Mama wird verrückt sein ( oh baby, mama is gonna be mad).” He mumbled as he called Y/n.

“Hi, King, what’s going on?” He could hear the smile on her face.

“Ummm~ we have to go to the school.”

“Why?” Now he hears the smile drop.

“Heidi got into an altercation with another girl.”

“HEIDI!! She would NEVER!”

“Kleine mama (little mama), she did, they wouldn’t just call for nothing, we’ll have to go. I’ll be a minute before I get there.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Y/n grabbed her car keys and hung up her phone.

———————

Y/n walked into the school seeing her daughter sitting in a chair just outside the Principal’s office.

“Heidi,” Y/n coos as she bent down to her daughters level seeing no scratches on her daughter accept bloody knuckle.

“Heidi, did you-“

“I punched her mommy,” Heidi’s face was red with tears threatening to fall from her face. Y/n cupped her daughters face and kissed her forehead.

As she did they both heard the doors open and the girls turned to see König come towards them taking off his leather jacket.

“What happened?”

Y/n pulled König aside and whispered, “She punched her King…”

König looked at his daughter just behind his wife.

“What!”

“Her knuckle…they’re bloody…she’s so scared König, I’m scared they’ll suspend her…”

“Mamas…they might since she threw the first punch, she doesn’t know any better, she’s just a kid, they’ll probably suspend her for a day.”

“Mr and Mrs King?” Y/n and König looked at the Principal’s office. The parents of the other little girl came walking out. The little girl had an ice pack over her eye with it covered in blood.

The parents looked at König and shuttered at the fact that he was Heidi’s father. Y/n looked at Emma’s bloody ice pack and at her daughter bloody knuckles.

“Please come in,” The Principal said.

Y/n and König sat in front of the desk as the Principal came around the desk to sit in his chair.

“Now, as I think you two are aware. Heidi had punched Emma-“

“Over what situation?” König asked.

The Principal showed Heidi’s picture. “This is Heidi’s picture this yellow line…was Emma’s doing, Heidi got mad and threw a punch at Emma. Teacher said Heidi hit her and pulled her hair while Emma was on the ground defenseless.”

“Heidi just got mad because someone ruined her picture big deal. I’d be mad if someone messed up my project,” König said, leaning forward.

“What my husband is trying to say is that…Heidi doesn’t know any better and is just a child. Children always learn from their mistakes and sometimes their actions are stronger than their words…if that makes sense…she just probably thought that was the only way she could get her point across was being defensive…she probably didn’t even mean to punch Emma…she was so upset when I saw her knuckle.”

“Well…we asked her who taught her how to punch and she said,” The Principal looked at König. “That she learned fighting from you, sir.”

König’s eyes widened. He never told Y/n that he has given Heidi some fighting lessons. He slowly turned to look at his wife. He saw her jaw dropped and eyes widened.

*Oh fuck* he thought.

“What?”

“I am guessing, you were unaware?” He asked.

“Very,” she turned and glared at König. “I will be speaking to mein Mann und meine Tochter (my husband and daughter) once we get home,” she said.

“Well, in that case…Heidi King will be suspended for a day, she will come back Thursday.”

“Will do, Mr.Müller.”

Y/n and König walked out of the Principals office. König felt bad for not telling Y/n, but Heidi knew that she was definitely more in trouble then she was before. Heidi grabbed her daddy’s hand and walked behind her mother.

They got to the car König buckled Heidi in her car seat.

“Comfortable?” He asked and she nodded.

König got in the passenger side as Y/n started the car but didn’t go anywhere. She was just…pissed.

“You’ve been teaching her.”

“Oh no.”

“HOW TO FIGHT?! KÖNIG!!”

“I’m sorry okay?! She wanted me to show her some moves and they soon became into teaching lessons. I didn’t know she was gonna use them at school, it was just for fun, no one was supposed to get hurt, kleine mama (little mama).”

“WELL SOMEONE DID KING!”

“Mama…are you mad at daddy and me?”

“…no baby, I’m just…a little disappointed,” Y/n said as she drove off and headed home. “Tomorrow, Heidi. I want you to write an apology to Emma and her parents explaining you didn’t mean to let your anger to get the best of you, Thursday you’ll deliver it and you also will get no TV, no tablet, okay?”

“Yes, mama…for how long?” Heidi asked.

“…Till Sunday…”

“Okay,” Heidi looked outside as König looked at his wife.

“And me?” König asked.

“Well since you asked. You’ll be sleeping on the couch till I think you deserve to come back into the bed, no kisses, no hugs, no sort of physical affection-“

“I get it, I get it, noted,” he said.

———————

8:20PM

Heidi had pajamas on and moved her covers and got under them.

“MAMA!! I’M READY!” Heidi yelled as Y/n came into her daughters bedroom.

“Okay.” Y/n tucked in Heidi and kissed her forehead. “Baby?”

Heidi looked up at her mom.

“I want you to promise me one thing.”

“Yes mama?”

“Never, never, ever, do that again, okay?”

“Yes mama.”

“Good, thank you,” she kissed Heidi’s forehead again and stood up turning off her bedroom light and shut her door and walked to her bedroom.

“Good night, König,” Y/b turned off the living room light while König was still trying to get himself comfortable.

“Really?” König said as he plopped down and closed his eyes.

Honestly, Y/n liked having the bed to herself, she had so much room, she was spread eagle on the bed taking up her side and König’s side too.

[dilfhos]

THE FAN.

#!WHO GOJO SATORU & GETOU SUGURU

#!CC: threesome, reluctance if ya squint, o.sex (G&R), riding & backshots, eiffel tower, rockstar/band au, GOJO plays with your ass

wc.5.6k | KINKTOBER ‘23 | if u can, plz reblog. im trying to get more traction frankly and would love my fics to reach a wide audience fr. as always, minors plz don’t interact w/me.

NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet

@scariusaquarius tysm for beta-ing, your soundboard and squeals of excitement mean a whole lot sugar hehe ♡

Are you a fan of the band EYES OF DEATH? Well they’re in town for Halloween! Ten songs! One night with Hunk Gojo as lead singer and the illustrious Suguru playing lead bass. Come down to the Shadowvale Coliseum to see them in action, you may be lucky to win backstage access!

“After all, you’re our biggest fan, yeah?” Suguru asked, a smile on his face as his palm tapped your cheek affectionately.

The sound of screaming coming from (mostly) women caused a ringing in your ears. But it wasn’t much of an inconvenience because you were screaming right along with them. Your eyes zeroed in on the lead, heart stammering at the fact that you were actually here, in person before your favorite band. Your favorite idol.

Gojo Satoru.

This time you didn’t have to gush over him in the new issue of Kaisen Times magazine, or smile when you see the million posters hanging up in the walls of your bedroom. He was literally feet from you as you were blessed to have stage side seats. He was definitely sexier up close. His messy white locks whipped with every nod of his head, as his slightly sweaty face was mostly framed by stray strands of silver.

You wish you could see his eyes but they were hidden by his signature frames which didn’t make you feel too bad. You watched as his hand came down hard to deliver one final riff. The crowd went wild as did you. He rocked back on his heels, a genuine wide smile gracing his features as he scanned his fans. When he turned in your direction, you could've sworn he was looking directly at you as his gaze seemed to remain on you for a few seconds longer. While you thought it was silly, a part of you hoped he was and your heart sped up at the thought.

His smile seemed to almost widen though as he then gripped the mic.

“How about another one? Why don’t you let me hear your lovely voices one more time?” He cupped a hand to his ear, nodding as the crowd, you included, began to scream again.

“That’s what I like to hear!” He turned back to his band mates, whispering to the one closest to him which you immediately recognized as Suguru. His dark and typically flowing locks were tied back into a messy bun, a few pieces slicking to the sides of his neck. He muttered something back to the other band mates and Gojo returned to the microphone, his mouth open in a wide smile,

“You ready?” He purred.

Everyone screamed yes! and as he counted off, the building was drowned once more in an electrifying riff of another one of his songs.

…

By the end of his concert, his shirt was drenched with sweat as he spent the rest of his energy jumping around on stage.

As he bid a goodbye to the crowd, you met his gaze. Or so you thought. You just knew he looked in your direction once more before whispering something to his bandmate, Suguru, who gave you a quick look over before disappearing behind the curtain.

You remained there, looking at the very spot he stood, wishing that he was still there. You clutched a rolled up paper to your chest, your grip tightening when someone bumped into you from behind.

It was silly but you had hoped you would’ve caught him before he left to sign it. Sure the image was a couple years old but it was your favorite and with his scribbled signature in the corner of it, you knew it’d finally be perfect.

But what you also knew was how wild his concerts ended. Groupies typically tried to sneak their way back only to be stopped by heightened security. You’ve heard rumors of some succeeding and bragging that Gojo and the band definitely made their nights.

With a sigh, you turned, watching the crowd slowly grow smaller as sweaty and exhausted bodies trickled out the exits. A headache was forming and even though you didn’t get your autograph, you were still content with seeing your favorite rock idol perform. But now, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep. Maybe encounter him in your dreams as you’d done in the past.

You were trudging along with the crowd when you heard a low, ‘psst’.

You wouldn’t have paid much attention to it if it had only happened once. But when it was heard again, this time a bit more persistent, you whipped your head around only to be met with nameless faces of the crowd.

But then you heard, “Here.”

Off to the side was a man in a black leather jacket with a cap on his head. You wanted to ignore him and keep following the crowd to the exits but something about his demeanor seemed familiar. You hesitantly broke away from the horde and ducked off to the side, accidentally tripping into his chest.

“Careful darlin’” You gasped softly at his voice, recognizing it to sound like…

The man pulled you further onto the side wing, and away from the crowd until reaching a corridor. He pulled his hat back, allowing raven locks to fall around his face.

“M-Mister Suguru?”

“Getou,”He glanced down at your arms crossed over your chest, holding something rolled. He glanced back up at your face which was lit up almost innocently at the fact that you were standing in front of a member of your favorite band. He smirked. How cute.

“Poster?” He asked, turning on his heels sharply. He didn’t give a warning or any explanation, he just began walking down the hallway, silently expecting you to follow. You stuttered before your feet moved, trying to catch up to his brisk pace.

“U-Uh yeah...I um…I wanted Gojo’s autograph.”

“And not mine?” He turned his head, a smile playing loosely at his lips. His gaze made you avert yours as your face swarmed with heat. You were mainly focused on the fact that you were actually inches from him, following him and talking to him. He wasn’t Gojo Satoru sure, but Getou Suguru was just as great a musician. And an even sexier man.

You passed by a few other band members and technician crew and a part of you felt a bit nervous.

“A-Are you sure I should be back here?” You asked him after a moment of silence. He only shoved his hands into his pocket without acknowledging your question as he continued to make his way down the darkening hallway. Something about this felt a bit off but you didn’t give into your trepidation. Instead you continued to trudge nervously behind him. Still, you placed your hand into your coat pocket to feel for your phone.

After another moment or so, he rounded a corner until stopping in front of the door at the end of the hall. From behind him, you could see the name, GOJO SATORU & EYES OF DEATH ☆ in bold, white script, centered in the middle of a large star. Your stomach flipped as you read his name over and over again. Was this actually real?

“You want to meet him right?” He could practically hear you nodding excitedly before sighing. A soft rap from a knuckles later and you heard Gojo’s voice from the other end asking who it was.

“Getou,” Was what he responded with before turning the door knob. He stepped back and gestured for you to enter, and you did so, your eyes remaining on your boot clad feet. After hearing the door shut behind you however, the sound sealing you into your fate, you looked up.

The first thing you noticed was the man sitting across the room, cross-legged on the floor. In his arms was a guitar, not the bass he rocked to during the concert. Slender fingers strummed against the strings, the notes melancholic and unfamiliar. The tune carried throughout the space accompanying the soft humming you heard from him.

Gojo glanced up only briefly, a smirk on his features as you nervously made your way further into the large dressing room. He let out a few more notes, this time save for his humming.

“Erm…” You glanced back toward Suguru. What were you supposed to do? Or say? Your mind ran a mile a minute contemplating what your next choice of words would be. You couldn’t believe that you were here standing in the very dressing room of your rock idol, the Gojo Satoru and you didn't want to screw up your first impression with something stupid.

You heard shuffling from in front of you and turned to see that he was standing. Placing the guitar against the wall, he then stretched, the position drawing up his t-shirt in the process. You couldn’t keep your eyes from falling to the distinctive toning of his waist and abdomen as they flashed before you. After you heard a chuckle, you looked away, hoping that he didn’t catch your staring.

“You a fan?” His voice was like velvet, soft and alluring and even more sexier than it was when he was singing on stage. A wide smile followed his question, drawing your attention to the dazzling rows of pearly whites. A few seconds later is when you collected yourself, eyes roaming back up to his that were hidden behind his shades.

“Y-Yeah,” You start carefully, heart strumming wildly in your chest.

“A-A big fan actually! I’ve been a fan for years and have come to every single concert.” Okay, so maybe you didn’t need to disclose that last part. Gojo only smiled warmly.

“Oh yeah? And what’s your favorite track?” He leaned down in front of the vanity, inspecting something on his face. You took a moment to mentally dig through what you knew of his discography. He had plenty of amazing songs, all of which touched you one way or another.

“I would have to say...Blindfolds,” He let out a surprised noise as he turned to look at you. He was quite surprised by your response. He felt that track wasn’t his best after it was published and honestly, paid no further worry about it.

He expected you to favorite one of his more popular tracks, one of which he always heard his fans request that he sing.

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you felt heat prickling at your skin.

“I-I just really like the way it speaks to me. And your use of the clever metaphors within the lyrics give it a much greater meaning than what it was meant to be. And even though it was made clear that the song was about everyone in a way, I couldn't help but wonder whether or not…” He cocked his head, hidden, blue eyes glinting as he nodded for you to go on.

“W-Whether or not if it was really about you.” Silence enveloped the space and every second you remained under it, nervousness crept in bit by bit. Perhaps you said too much. Here was one of the top rock stars standing in front of you, listening as you picked apart one of his songs.

“I-I’m sorry if I over-” He interrupted you with laughter. It wasn’t cruel or mocking, but genuine. And coming from him, it was music to your heated ears. He moved toward you, his sudden movement causing you to stagger back some.

“Look kid, I appreciate your dedication but I think you’re reading too much into it,” He gave a small friendly ruffle to the top of your head, and you bit back a squeal. He touched you.

“She’s real cute,” He remarked behind you, toward the other man, who you honestly forgot was even still here.

“I knew you’d think so. But how about we move things along? The manager has been calling my phone like crazy wondering where you’ve run off to this time.”

“Right,” He turned back towards you, a toothy grin present on his features. His eyes then ventured down to what you were still cradling in your arms.

“What’s this?” He pointed. You glanced down at the rolled poster, your face warming immediately.

“I had wanted an autograph,” You stuttered, voice barely audible.

“S‘at so?” You nodded. He held his hand out and you hesitantly placed it. You watched as he unrolled it and the way his brows shut up in surprise.

“Is something wrong?” You were quick to question, craning your neck to what he was seeing. Oh God, did you spill something on it? Did you accidentally grab the wrong poster from your wall? Like the one with old childish writing on it with, My husband! If that was the case then you weren’t sure what you’d-

“Just surprised is all. This was actually my favorite photoshoot. Guru, you remember that one?” He turned the poster around so his friend could see. Suguru chuckled at the sight, a part of him thinking that it was only his favorite because he ended up seducing the photographer. Gojo turned, moving back to his vanity. From the plethora of makeup brushes, his fingers closed around a dark sharpie. You couldn’t see what he was scribbling as you craned your neck, but it sounded like more than just his name. With a smile, he recapped the marker and held the poster out as if to admire his penmanship and rolled it back up.

He then held it out to you and right when you were about to grab it, he pulled it away.

“You know, you’re real cute,” He muttered, a finger reaching under your chin. “And you’re my biggest fan, you said?”

He was so close, so much that you could smell the subtleness of mint and beer. You were immediately drawn in, your eyes fluttering down to the sight of his kissable lips, which were parted slightly. He nudged your chin up to refocus your attention. What was the question again?

“Y-Yes?”

“You don’t sound so sure.” He teased.

“Yes, I’m your biggest fan.” You whisper. Sitting down your rolled poster, he took off his shades, revealing a pair of lustfully blown blue eyes. Brighter than any lake during sunrise. You could get lost in them forever and it was no longer a surprise why he wore his shades all the time.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his heavy gaze, which was just as well because before you could register anything, his lips were on yours, soft and tentative. It took you a second before you began to move your lips in sync with his.

He groaned against your mouth, deepening the exchange with a suggestive swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip. Parting your lips, his tongue shoved through, wild as it thrashed against your own.

Gojo explored your mouth, taking in the way you practically melted against him. He began to walk you backwards until your knees met the back of the couch. He pulled away to watch you stumble onto its surface, panting and flustered from the kiss.

He straightened to shrug out his coat before leaning back down to recapture your lips in another heated embrace. His hands trailed down your body, paying attention to where to press and grope that caused you to whimper. He loved the sound. The sweet, sweet gasps of women beneath his touch could top any riff he played.

Eventually, his lips moved away to press open mouth kisses to the side of your jaw and neck, every now and then sucking marks into your skin. His hand pushed under your shirt, dragging the garment oup in the process until he broke away to pull it off you.

“You’re so fucking hot babe,” He muttered, cerulean eyes trailed over your body, over the hot and bothered state you were in. Gojo’s hands smoothed over your neck, trailing down to your bra-covered breasts, until stopping at the hem of your skirt. You nodded before he shoved them up your waist, hips lifting up slightly for him push them up further until it was bunched around your tummy to reveal your cute panties. He looked down, grinning at the sight of the cotton material pressed snugly against your crotch.

“Cute,” He murmured. Instinctively, you tried closing your legs, bashful at his heavy gaze and comment but he shifted down until he was on his knees, in between them.

“No need to be shy,” His voice was so compelling; you slowly relaxed, your eyes never leaving his as Gojo’s fingers curled into the waistband of your panties. Your legs tightened against each other but with an almost warning glance cast upward from his eyes, they relaxed and he proceeded to slide them down with more ease.

“That’s it. So fucking beautiful…” He tugged them against your ankles, before they were placed on the small coffee table. He moved his eyes down to the sight in between your legs, inspecting the glisten coating your puffy lips.

Seconds later, you arched your back at the sensation of his hot tongue pressing flat against your slit, as he dragged the surface of it up and down in slow and deliberate movements. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he delved in deeper, maneuvering the appendage past your slick folds and into your hole, flicking and dipping between your plush walls. His fingers then replace his tongue, curling and stretching against your insides. His lips moved to your clit where he suckled and nipped gently, drawing out a unintentionally loud moan from you.

His fingers sped up, creating a wet squelch with every thrust into your cunt. Gasping, your fingers dug into the material of the couch as you found yourself getting lost in the pleasure he created.

Suguru, seeming to have come from nowhere, then moved beside you, gripping your chin to lift your head up in his direction. Despite your hesitance, he managed to press his lips against yours roughly. After a moment you began to give in, allowing his feverish tongue to slip past your lips and into your mouth, the exchange heated between lips and teeth. He grew harder in his pants to the feel of your lips and at the sound of his friend slurping away at your cunt.

A hand crept down to your clit, taking the place of Gojo’s fingers as he began to press tight circles against the area. Your hips bucked off of the couch and against Gojo’s face, smothering him against your pussy. He released a prolonged groan at the sight of the exchange happening between you and the two men.

Pulling away, the male licked away a trail of saliva from your lips before dipping a bit lower to lick and suck against your neck.

“Suguru,” You whimpered.

“Getou,” He corrected against your skin, trailing his lips down to your breasts. His calloused hands roughly kneaded each mound. His teeth teased at your nipples, grinding gently on the hardening buds before tugging softly to release with a soft pop. Just as he pulled away, a ringing sounded throughout the space.

“Dammit,” He muttered, bringing out his phone. Gojo pulled away from your pussy, his mouth soaked in your juices as he looked up at the brunette.

‘Manager’ He mouthed, moving towards the door.

“What? Yes…” The door shut behind him, leaving you and the lead singer alone in the dressing room.

He stood, pulling off his shirt, your eyes immediately dropping to his skin. You watched with rapt focus as he then plopped down a foot or so away from you.

“Come over here,” He instructed, throwing his arms across the back of the couch. You moved closer to him, your pussy clenching in need.

Slender fingers wrapped against the nape of your neck pulling you closer toward him. His lips smashed against yours, as he wasted no time in shoving his tongue past your lips. A moan was muffled from your mouth as his grip tightened in your hair to pull you closer, the taste of your essence melting on your tongue.

He pulled away to give another soft tug at your roots, urging your head up at an angle. His lips lowered to bite and suckle marks into your skin, partly in hope to cover his friend’s. When he pulled away, his eyelids were heavy over his lust filled eyes as they ran over your face and down your body.

“You’re still my biggest fan?” A few beats passed before you nodded, eliciting a soft smile to form on his face. He then moved to undo his belt, shoving his dark jeans down to reveal his dark boxers. Through the material, you could see that he was very much excited.

“Show me then.” He urged, shifting into a more lax position with his legs spread wide open.

You swallowed thickly before partially positioning yourself over his lap, level with the prominent bulge. Your eyes the subtle trail of white that lined his abdomen and disappeared into his boxers.

With shaky hands, you moved to curl your fingers around the rim of them and pulled them down enough for his thick cock to spring free, hard and long as it kissed his abdomen. You could then feel his hand pressed up against the back of your head, urging you down toward his dick.

“Good. Now open your mouth.” He cooed. You did so, closing your eyes at what was to come.

“Wider,” He muttered, heatedly. It took a bit of effort as you felt the warmth of his cock moving past your lips. Your head lowered until the heaviness of his cock pressed against your tongue.

“Yeah, like that.” He sighed, hips hitching against your mouth. His dick was thick on your tongue and you could taste more and more saltiness melting on your tastebuds.

“Fuck, your teeth babe...Watch your teeth.” He groaned, nails digging into your scalp. You sputtered around his shaft, sending spittles of drool to drip from the corners of your mouth. Your jaw ached from the stretch as he continued to urge your head down and up against his cock. In the midst of it all, you heard the soft creak of the door opening and closing.

“I see you’ve gotten started already,” Suguru’s low hum broke the sound of your unadulterated slurping. You opened your eyes to see the dark pair of shoes a few feet away, unmoving.

“The—fuck—The manager?” Gojo asked, almost breathlessly.

“I got’er off our backs for at least an hour. Told her you wanted to rest.”

“Good. That bitch needs to learn patience anyway,” You released an unintentional moan at his harsh words, finding them to be almost uncharacteristic for the male. Your eyes closed again as you tried to focus on the task at hand as Gojo’s eyes narrowed, staring down at the sight below.

He then connected his gaze with his friend before a wide grin stretched across his face.

“She’s real good. Damn, it feels amazing.” Stomach fluttering, you moved your mouth down lower, taking another inch as you sucked in your cheeks to provide more of a suction. The change in your movements took the male by surprise because he released a strangled groan, in the process, shoving you down further, making you gag and choke around his girth. Sweat beaded along Gojo’s skin as you continued to suck him off, white strands of his hair sticking against the sides of his face.

From behind you, the feeling of the couch sinking with more weight didn’t go unnoticed. Seconds later you felt a warm hand brushing against your ass, running soothing circles against the flesh.

Suguru’s hands moved to creep to your waist, pulling away at the waistband of your skirt which was bunched around the area. You were now completely bare before both men and couldn’t help the pathetic sounding whimper that arose at the notion.

“What a good little fan. You know, you’re really doin’ me a service,” Satoru chuckled. In his words, you felt a sudden surge of validation course through you. The way he spoke to you caused a fluttering in your tummy.

At the end of the day it seemed like you just wanted to please him, your idol. When he said things about how good you were making him feel, well it caused something else to stir within you, flourishing before you could have the time to force it back.

Suguru noticed the way your thighs clenched together but it was different this time. His fingers sought out your warmth and was happy to find you practically dripping.

“I think she’s loving it,” You heard him purr as he continued to run his digits along your slit. You didn’t deny it but you wished that you hadn’t looked up into Gojo’s eyes.

He groaned at the look you gave him through your lashes. As much as he wanted this moment to last longer, he knew he needed to pull away before he busted in your mouth. He needed to save himself for the main event and that was having you crying and cumming all over his cock as he fucked you. You felt a tug on your hair as you were pulled away.

“Stand up.” You rose shakily to your feet, watching as Gojo shoved his boxers away completely as Suguru was next to you, discarding his own clothing wordlessly. Gojo shifted back onto the couch, a knee pressed onto one of the cushions and his other foot planted firmly on the floor.

“Here.” Without further protest, you moved in front of him on your hands and knees, your pussy aching for attention. Which you knew he was happy to give as you felt the swollen head of his cock teasing against your folds. His breath fanned your ear from behind as he continued to slick his cock between your lips.

You’re so wet, providing his still glistening cock with enough lubrication to push through with little resistance. You groaned at the stretch, nails digging crescents into your palm. He inched his way in, slow and deliberate for every vein to drag pleasurably against your walls. His grip on your hips tightened once he was fully seated, his pelvis flush against your plush ass.

He took a moment to gather himself before pulling out partly and thrusting in once more, ripping out a strangled cry from your throat. Tears brimmed your outer vision as he then thrusted back in, harsh and more rougher than before. His knee buckled a bit in the act causing him to lean against you as he found his ground once more.

“Fuck!” He gritted as his cock throbbed within your tightness. After a few more experimental strokes, he found his rhythm, as ironic as it seemed for the guy. He continued to grunt as his pelvis continued to slam against your ass, his cock plunging deep into your pussy. Your head lolled forward, your noises becoming louder as pleasure surged through your body.

You then feel fingers entangling in your roots as your head was tilted upwards to meet the dark eyes of Suguru. He was mere inches from you, his hand fisting languidly at his cock. His thumb swiped the bead of arousal that accumulated at the slit and you couldn’t keep yourself from licking your lips at the bothered state he seemed to be in.

“Do me a favor,” Gojo huffed from behind. Without further instruction, your mouth opened and Suguru moved forward, his cock breaching your lips to rest heavy on your tongue. You tried to work it along the length of his shaft as you bobbed your head along but with the rate of Gojo’s thrusts against you, it was a bit difficult.

Suguru noticed this and adjusted his body so that he also had a knee braced against the cushion. His hands moved to the sides of your head, stilling you as his hips surged forward in shallow movements.

“That’s it darlin,” He said softly, his eyes rolling slightly. “Be a good little fan and take it nice and deep.”

After trying to keep up some more, you eventually stilled completely— slack jawed, tongue lolled out, allowing the male to use your mouth as he pleased. Drool seeped down in thick strands at the corners as he continued to thrust into your wet hole, inching himself deeper and deeper.

You suddenly gag at the feel of a hand striking against your ass. Gojo watched as you arched your back at the sting it brought, a dark grin gracing his features as you tightened around him.

“Fuck...You like that?” Another blow was delivered as another wanton moan escaped you. His hands gripped both your ass cheeks, spreading them apart for a much clearer view of his slickened cock disappearing into your needy cunt. He eyed your tight, winking hole above that and ran his thumb along the rim, taking in the way your body practically rippled in excitement from the unfamiliar stimulation.

“I think you may be my favorite, love,” He mumbled more to himself. But you caught it and felt a new sense of pride in his words. You strained your ears for the way he sucked in his breath at your clenching walls until he leant down, hard chest pressed flush against your back.

“You like that? Being called my favorite?” You tried to nod your head the best you could with your mouth full.

“How about I bring you back after all my shows. You’ll be our little stress reliever, my little plaything I can use as I want. Fuck, I can tell you’re...Mmm, keen to the idea,” His hands pressed against your ass, spreading them apart once more as he thrusted in deeper inside of you.

You choked, pulling away from Suguru’s cock, mewling and completely overwhelmed with nothing but lust.

“After all, you’re our biggest fan, yeah?” Suguru asked, a smile on his face as his palm tapped your cheek affectionately. At his purring words, you shuddered and tightened, lowering your head to release a choked cry. Your orgasm came sudden and intense, completely overtaking your senses as your legs felt like pudding.

Gojo chuckled breathlessly, taking note of how sensitive you were to his words. He paused briefly to let you ride out your release until he pulled out. Giving a nod to his friend, he gave your ass a final smack, watching your skin ripple upon contact.

Without giving much time to catch your breath, you felt fingers in your hair, pulling your head up until your eyes met those dark pair.

“Get up.” Suguru mumbled. You shakily rose to your feet, your legs buckling seconds after. Thankfully, Gojo caught you with a tight grip on your arm, and an amused smile stretching across his face.

Suguru settled back against the couch, his hand running along his slick cock. He gestured at you with a spin of his finger and you turned around before feeling his hands on your hips to pull you flush against his body.

He positioned your body above his lap, his hands supporting you with the grip on your hips as your feet were planted on either side of his thighs. You leaned back against his chest, shuddering at the feel of his cock teasing your pussy. He pressed his lips against your shoulders feverishly as you were then lowered.

You mewled as he breached your entrance, stretching you with his girth. Suguru groaned as he took a moment basking in the feel of your fluttering walls throbbing around him. You began to sink down onto him, with little guidance of his hands, your moans growing in pitch.

“How is she?”

“So...tight and hot,” Suguru groaned, nails digging into the meat of your thighs as his heated gaze met Gojo’s. He directed your attention to the space in front of you with his hand stroking his dick.

Knowing what he wanted without further instructions, you wiggled forward to take his cock into your hot mouth, immediately hollowing your cheeks tight. His fingers grasped at your sweaty roots, tightening when you bobbed your head lower until your nose was nearly touching his pelvic bone.

Behind you, Suguru was beginning to lose his composure, his hips snapping up hastily against your ass, driving his cock deeper into your pussy. You moaned aloud, the noise being muffled by the press of Gojo’s cock down your throat. You were drowning in your pleasure as you were being pushed closer and closer to unraveling.

“Such a good little fan…” You squeal at his words the same time Suguru delivers a deep thrust into your cunt. Your eyes clenched shut as that coil within you snapped, sending your body aflame with heat and pleasure. He growled at your fluttering cunt, his hips stuttering as he approached his own high. You were nudged off of him before you felt the heat of his cum splattering against your ass.

“A-Ah…Fuck!” At the sight of this, Gojo was at his own limit, his hands shaky as he held your head down against him, the entirety of his cock in your hot mouth. He gave a few shallow thrusts until he stilled and you felt the spurt of warmth hitting the back of your throat. He held you there a couple seconds later as he rode out his high, making you swallow his cum.

When he shakily pulled away, you coughed as whatever you didn’t go down, dripped onto your chin and chest. You were a mess, but honestly, Gojo couldn’t find anything more beautiful.

He brushed his thumb over your sweaty cheek before he straightened. You shifted until you were next to Suguru, who pulled you against his side. Gojo returned with your rolled poster in hand and two beers in the other.

“How ‘bout you stay for a bit longer hm? You can tell the manager we’ll be a while for the moment.” You took your poster and unrolled it, eyes zeroing on the bottom corner which, in his neat script read, To My Biggest Fan, GOJO ☆

Beneath it was a phone number and you felt your face warmed. Looking up, you saw that he was holding out the beer to you and you took it.

Suguru beside you had a hand running teasing against your slick thighs as Gojo couldn’t keep his eyes off you as more and more of your beer disappeared.

You were blissfully aware of your senses easing slightly as you started to come to the conclusion that this was the best concert you’d gone to.

@dilfhos. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE OR REUPLOAD MY CONTENT—CURRENT OR ARCHIVAL.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

melancholia | (mechanic!harry part 3)

Summary: Part 1 Part 2 The date with Niall, and picking your car up after it's done. But it gets more complicated than that.

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing, brief mention of abuse

i will be working on your car this evening, would you like to hang out?

You had saved Niall's number as soon as you had gotten in the car with Mia, and he was really putting it to good use.

You had been in your office, a pen between your teeth as you read the agendas for the upcoming projects that had been assigned for your team. Your phone vibrated, and you saw Niall's text pop up. You immediately swiped up, opening his chat.

You smiled, in awe of how subtly he had asked you out.

sure! would love to. at what time should i come?

His response was spontaneous too.

as soon as you get off work. when do you get off work?

You calculated a bit in your head. If you got off work ealy, and reached the garage by the bus, Mia could pick you up after you were done. Or, she could drop you at the garage and then you would have to take the bus home.

The previous idea was better. That would mean you would get off work at 5, and Mia would be around 6-6:30? Perfect.

just a little before 5. can reach the garage by 5:15

Niall typed quickly, before getting back ro work so Harry wouldn't kick his ass.

that's perfect. will see you at 5:15. have a great day at work! :)

You smiled, keeping your phone down and focusing back to th me task in hand. You were going to be on a date in a garage. With Harry nearby.

He definitely wouldn't like that.

. . .

You reached the garage at a little over 5:15, and as you walked from the bus, you could feel your heart beating loudly. It had been ages since you had dated and gone on dates. Most of them would be dinner, or a coffee place, or a movie. But a garage? Never.

Niall was nowhere to be seen outside, so you went in, looking for him. Harry was sitting by the tiny reception they had, and vigorously scribbling something on a paper while his one hand was on his forehead. The computer in front of him was on, and you could see he had the brightness up too much, the light was shining on his face so prominently.

You decided to go to say hi.

You walked nervously to him, mentally preparing yourself to be scolded or cursed at by him. He was not in a good mood, and he would definitely not appreciate you troubling him, or you and NIall having a date here instead of working. You wondered if he told him that too.

You reached his table, and stood in front of him. He was still engrossed in his work.

“Hi” you murmured softly, and he shot his eyes up. His face was still the same: anger, frustration, grumpiness, that was always there.

“What?”

“Hi” you repeat yourself, but softly this time. He narrowed his eyes at you, looking at you up and down, and then got back to his paperwork.

“What?” he said a minute later.

“I-I just came by to say hi”

He looked up at you again, this time with more frustration.

“Hi. Are you done?”

Your lips frowned, and you quickly answered, “Yeah. Sorry for-for bothering you”

“You should be”

Turning around, you went back, and saw Niall sitting at a chair. 

“Hey, I was waiting for you, it’s almost 5:25”

“Yeah-I-went in to say hi to Harry”

“You didn’t say hi to me” he smiled, and you walked over to him, sitting at the other chair he had placed nearby.

“You were nowhere to be seen, and-I thought he might know and-I now regret going in in the first place”

“That’s alright, I was just doing a coffee run. Fancy some?”

You smiled, “Yeah, sure”

He made you decaf, which you insisted on after telling him that you had to be up all night doing some work. He was quite cool, talking to you about your day, even letting you rant about your work and how life had been shit lately after you had moved out.

He was a good listener. But you wanted to get to know him too.

'So, what do you do for fun besides fixing cars?' 

'Well, I love to play guitar and write songs and stuff,' Niall replied, a hint of shyness in his voice.

'Really? That's so cool! I've always wanted to learn how to play an instrument,' you exclaimed.

Niall smiled, 'I could teach you if you'd like. Maybe we could even write a song together.'

Your heart skipped a beat at his offer. You couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to him and how he didn’t judge you or immediately dislike you just because you talked more than him. He just sat there all cute, with a smile on his face listening to whatever you told him.

“You know, you're not like any other mechanic I've met. You're so kind and respectful. You really love what you do, don't you?” you asked, looking at him with admiration.

“I do. I've loved cars since I was a kid. It's my passion,” Niall replied with a smile.

It was refreshing to meet someone who truly loved their work.

As the sun began to set, you realized it was time to head home, Mia would be here to pick you up soon. 

“I had an amazing time today, Niall. Thank you for everything,” you smiled up at him.

“It was my pleasure. I had a great time too,” Niall replied, his blue eyes sparkling.

As she rode the car home, you couldn't stop smiling. You had gone on a date in a garage, were picked up by your friend like it was a playdate, and still had one of the best dates in a while. He promised you a next one too, and you were looking forward to that.

.     .      .

(A week later)

Niall had called you, telling you your car was done. You were happy, but then Mia told you her roommate was going to be back today. 

With a long face, you took a cab to the garage. You kept your checkbook,and also some spare change with you.

On the ride, your mind was a mess. You would have to move back in your car, but what if you asked Niall to let you live with him? He told you he had two roommates he lived with, and you just needed a week before your paycheck would come in, and you would pay back your previous landlord, move back into your old apartment.,

Fingers crossed, you were hoping he would say yes.

At the garage, you wrote the check waiting for one of them to come out, and when no one did, you went in to find Harry.

"I'm not having this fucking conversation. I came to you 6 months ago and settled it all, didn’t I? I did that so I don’t have to do this shit on the phone with you. You understand? You fucking moron-”

Harry stopped yelling as soon as he saw you, a shocked expression on your face at his words. Your body had gotten tense and scared, the way he just yelled, making you shiver.

“What?” he spat, still pent up and frustrated from his conversation on the phone.

You stammered, still shocked by his demeanor, “I-I, nothing” you said quickly, turning around and running away from him.

Niall caught you on your way out, just the man you were looking for. 

“Hey, Niall! What’s up?” standing in front of him, you said in a high-pitched voice, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“What’s up? Really?”

You slumped down, gulping down as you said, “Sorry. I-went inside to ask Harry where you were and he was all yelling and screaming and I-I got scared”

“Oh, he’s always like that on the phone. Don’t worry, you get used to it” he shrugged it off, but you were still pretty shaken. The way there was a nerve bulging on his forehead, his jaw clenching, the death grip he had on the phone…ooph.

“Anyways here’s my bill, and I was wondering if-you know, if you’re free, we could have dinner tomorrow”

His eyes lit up, taking the cheque from you,and he asked, “Oh yeah? What’s tomorrow”

“It’s-it’s thanksgiving” you said with a smile on your face, hoping he would say yes.

On the contrary, his smile disappeared as soon as you mentioned thanksgiving, and he put his hands on his waist.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Y/n, But-I have to go home tomorrow. Holiday with my family and all” he scratched his forehead, and the awkwardness began to grow.

“Oh-oh. It’s alright” you quickly brushed it off, not wanting to make him feel guilty for spending time with his family.

He took your hand in his, an apologetic look on his face, “I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am. I-it slipped off my mind completely. I have to book tickets now too. Or my mum will kill me” he chuckled,trying to lighten the mood, and you put a smile on your face.

“No, it’s perfectly fine. Besides, you should go home once in a while. Don’t have to be stuck with that yelling boss all day”

“Yeah”

You both fell silent, and after a minute, he spoke up.

“So, do you need anything else?” he asked.

“No, no it’s fine. You go home”

He nodded, going to pick up his stuff and change his clothes. 

“I’ll give this to Harry,” he said, mentioning the cheque. You nodded, and he left.

You sighed. Mia’s roommate was back, and you would have to move out tomorrow. Couldn’t she have just stayed there one more day?

You picked up your purse, and the car keys. If you had gone out with him tomorrow, you would’ve asked him to let you stay at his house for a week or so, after which you would get your salary, pay your landlord,, just so he would let you move in.

Now, it was all down the drain, and you were back to living in your car.

Walking to the car, you opened the driver’s seat, getting in. Your stuff was to be picked up from Mia’s, and then you would have to drive to a safe place to park your car.

Putting the keys in the ignition, you turned it, and your eyes went to the fuel indicator.

It was almost empty.

You got out of the car, hoping that Niall wouldn’t have left, so you could buy a bottle of fuel.

Sadly, he had.

His stuff was gone, and you would have to ask Harry. You didn’t even want to see him after the way he treated you before

You knocked on the tin nearby, getting his attention before you walked to his table. He looked up, and he seemed at ease. So much better than the angry bird he was before.

“What?”

“I wanted to buy a bottle of fuel.”

He sighed, closing the book he was writing on and got up. You followed him as he walked back to the shop, fetching a 3 liter bottle for you.

“This?”

“Yeah”

You paid him, taking it from him and keeping it beside you.. He didn’t seem to have any plans for thanksgiving, and you assumed his family didn’t live here. So, why wasn’t he going back home?

“So, you got any plans for thanksgiving?” you asked, and his face stiffened. He seemed angry, and you regretted asking him immediately.

“Why?” he asked with a stern voice.

“Coz-you don’t seem to have any plans for tomorrow, and-I think your family doesn’t live here, so why-”

“Just stop right there, okay?” 

His voice was harsh, and he was ready to yell at you once again.

“Why do you have to poke your nose where it doesn’t belong? Huh? What I do-” he spat, taking a step towards you, pointing at himself, “-is none of your damn business. If I go, if I don’t, if I have a family, or I don’t-that is none of your fucking business, okay? So just take your broken car, and get the hell out of here”

You were shivering by now, heavy breaths falling in small puffs as you took a step back, your legs stiffened and shivering. It had been years since you had been yelled at like this by a man.

“I’m sorry,-” you mumbled, turning around and running back as fast as you could. Tears were falling out of your eyes, and you had to practically tell your legs to move as fast as they could. Once inside, you quickly turned the keys, turning on the ignition, and speeding away as fast as you could. To your best luck, it started raining.

The rain was pouring down relentlessly, and you could barely see through the windshield. But your mind was in a frenzy, replaying the scene over and over again. You couldn’t believe that he had yelled at you like that, and the harsh words he had said stung like a knife. Why did you even bother trying to talk to him? Why did you always have to interfere in other people’s lives? You knew it would only end up hurting you in the end. 

Your heart was racing, and you could feel your chest tightening with every breath. As you drove, your mind kept going back to that moment when he had pointed at himself, telling you that his life was none of your business.

You knew that, you did very well. You thought maybe, just maybe, talking about his family would get him to be softer, sweeter, but you were wrong. He was always the pent-up asshole, and nothing was going to change him.

After a mile or two, the rain had started to slow down, and you saw where you were going. It seemed like a highway, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to get away from him.

You took a quick look at the fuel indicator, and that was when it all came crashing down once again.

The fuel had run out. 

You had dropped the bottle beside you in the garage, and in his fit of rage, he didn’t even care that you left it there. You just ran to your car, not caring about the fuel and just drove off. Now, you would have to stay inside your car, in the middle of nowhere, and then call someone tomorrow morning.

You turned off the engine and leaned back into the seat, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t know what to do now. You were stranded, alone, and afraid. 

You were so cold and wet, your teeth chattering as you huddled in the backseat. You locked all the doors and windows, hoping that would keep you safe. But deep down, you knew it probably wouldn’t. 

Tears streamed down your face, and you curled up into a ball, trying to keep warm as you fell into a fitful sleep. The rain continued to pour outside, and you could feel yourself getting sicker by the minute. It was so so cold, the cool air blowing outside, and all you were wearing was one layer of thin clothes.

Meanwhile, Harry had finished his work and realized that you had left without taking the fuel. He grabbed his hair in frustration, angry at himself for letting you go like that. He knew he should have stopped you, but his emotions had gotten the best of him. 

He couldn’t believe how out of control he had become. He had never acted like that before, and he knew he needed to find you and make things right. He quickly grabbed his keys and headed out in search of you. He didn’t know where you could have gone, but he was determined to find you. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you because of his actions.

It was about an hour later when you heard a knock on the window. You jumped, your heart racing as you saw Harry’s face peering in. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, looking concerned. 

“I-I ran out of fuel,” you stammered, wiping away your tears. Harry’s expression softened, and you quickly unlocked the door. Hehelped you out of the car. “You’re freezing,” he said, wrapping his jacket around you. “Come on, let’s get you inside and warmed up.” He led you to his car and drove you to his home. You didn’t even have the energy to protest or ask questions. You just wanted to be warm and safe. 

As you sat in front of the fireplace, Harry made you some hot tea and brought you a blanket. He sat next to you, looking at you with a mix of anger and guilt in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “I should have known better than to let you leave in that state. I’m such an idiot. I-I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, I’m sorry” 

“No, it’s not your fault,” you said, your voice weak. “I should have been more careful.” Harry shook his head. “I’m the one who fixed your car. I should have checked everything before letting you go.” The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the crackling of the fire. 

“You can stay here for the night,” Harry finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll take care of the car tomorrow and make sure it’s all fixed up. You can have it back then. This time, I’ll fill up the fuel tank too.” 

“Thank you,” you said, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Harry gave you a small smile before getting up and heading to the kitchen. You couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, you were so afraid of him, and now he was taking care of you in his own home. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just a dream. 

But, Harry’s thoughts were far from a dream. He couldn’t stop staring at your peaceful face, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. All the events of the day ran through his mind, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful that he had made the right decision in bringing you here. 

He noticed a single strand of hair resting on your cheek, and he couldn’t resist the urge to brush it away. He reached out and gently slid it off your face, careful not to wake you. But as his fingers grazed your skin, he felt a spark of electricity. He knew it was wrong, you and Niall had a thing going on, and it would be disrespectful of him to even think about you in that way. But as he looked at you, he couldn’t deny the feelings that were bubbling up inside of him. Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling guilty for his actions. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

But you were fast asleep, and didn’t hear his words. And he definitely didn’t feel wrong for what he did.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[gretavangroupie]

Errant

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Fighting, Name Calling, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Allusions to Cheating, Jealousy, Anger, Gaslighting. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Slight Masochism, Slight Humiliation Kink, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Hey! Welcome back for the third installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Josh's story! This may not be everyones cup of tea, so make sure you read the warnings! There's only one left now, and we can't wait to share Jake's story with you! See you real soon!

JOSH POV

You sit on the exam table, gently swinging your feet as the doctor scribbles on his prescription pad. The paper underneath you crinkles, your clammy hands getting stuck to it. 

“It’s looking like the perforation is healing, but I’m going to give you some antibiotics and ear drops. You’ll take the antibiotics for 10 days and the drops for 5.” He tears off the prescription and hands it to you. “Just be sure you aren’t drinking and you avoid getting any water in or around your ears.”

You scrunch up your nose when you hear the pointed reminder not to drink. 

“Thank you, doc. I’ll be on my best behavior.” You joke, hopping down from the table. Your sneakers squeak as you stick the landing. 

Navigating through the back halls of the ENT practice, you follow the signs that direct you to the check-out. It’s eerily quiet as you walk through the waiting room and out of the front doors. The sun nearly blinds you when you get outside, so you lift your hand to block it out while you search for your girlfriend’s car. 

Spotting her a few rows into the parking lot, you walk in her direction, knocking softly on the window once you’re close enough. She unlocks the door and you slip inside, the car next to her parked a little too close. She sighs, shifting from park to drive while you buckle your seatbelt.

“How was it?” she asks, her enthusiasm lacking. You look over at her as she cranes her neck to check that the way is clear before she pulls out of her parking spot.

“Well, it was fine.” You take a deep breath before continuing. “I have to take antibiotics and put in ear drops for a few days, so you might have to help me with that. I can keep taking the pain meds that the doctor I originally saw prescribed, but the pain should subside as I heal.” 

She nods, keeping the radio volume low. The only time she doesn’t sing in the car is when she’s upset, and you know the song currently playing is one of her favorites. So, you seal your fate and ask the dreaded question in every relationship.

“What’s wrong?” 

She huffs and thinks for a moment before she answers. 

“You know it’s Valentine’s day, right?” 

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.” You’ve never put much stock in the holiday and you didn’t think she did either. The last two years, you hadn’t ever done more than get her some flowers or chocolates delivered, mostly because you weren’t around.

“I just… I don’t know, it’s the first one we’ve been able to spend together and we’re spending the day going to the doctor and the pharmacy…”

“Oh, so you’re mad that you had to bring me to the doctor?” you ask, a little defensive now. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, Josh. I’m just saying I wish we were doing more than running errands.” She speaks curtly to you, and honestly, it’s a little condescending.

“It’s a made up holiday anyway. I’ve never bought into all the hearts and candy and bullshit. I didn’t think you did either.” You rest your head on your hand, looking out the window as she drives a little too fast down the freeway.

“It’s not about that. You’re not getting it.” she snaps, her tone whiny and frustrated.

“Listen. I had my assistant send you chocolate covered strawberries to your office. I don’t really know what else you want from me.” you bite back. You’ve had enough of this argument and want to be home already so you can take something for your pain and try to get some rest. 

“I didn’t even know that, seeing as I had to call out and use a sick day to take you to the doctor.” she says, and you feel your scalp get hot, your temper flaring.

“So you are mad you had to bring me to the doctor.” 

“I just don’t understand what a ruptured eardrum has to do with driving!” she says, her voice raising a bit. “You didn’t take your pain meds this morning so you technically would have been fine to drive… I just don’t appreciate that I had to use my PTO on Valentine’s day and all I’m doing is driving Miss Daisy.” 

“I don’t know if you realize this, but I’m in a lot of fucking pain.” you grit out, and she scoffs a laugh.

“Yeah. I’ve heard.” 

You know you’re about to lose it, so you close your eyes for a moment, gathering your composure. Unfortunately, she just keeps going.

“I thought I was going to spend my Valentine’s day getting bitten and scratched by your brother’s awful fucking cat, but now that you’re all home, I get to spend my evening dealing with you while you’re miserable and in pain, and I’m not sure which is worse.” 

“You act like I’m home on some vacation… I have a work function tomorrow even if I’m not out at the shows, so–”

“Are you kidding me?! You somehow have MORE obligations now that you’re home? I guess I’m the fool for thinking we would have more than a few hours to spend together.” She cuts the wheel and turns sharply into your driveway. You grab the handle of the door and grumble under your breath at the way she’s driving like a maniac.

“Look, it’s not like I asked to go. Jake and Danny did the last one, so now Sam and I are stuck going tomorrow. It’s supposed to be nice. It’s a fancy thing, dinner and drinks. I figured you would be my date.” 

You watch her turn off the car and think for a moment, the word “date” appealing to her a little bit, which is exactly what you had hoped.

“Come on. I missed you and I feel like shit and you’re… you’re all prickly. Can’t we just have a nice night in? I’ll make it up to you. I just want to take a nap.”

She seems to be thinking about it as she gets out of the car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and follow suit, walking around to her side and reaching for her hand. Tugging her closer, you wrap your other arm around her shoulders and kiss her on the side of her head with some force. 

“Okay, okay…” she relents, leaning in to you. 

“I love you. You’re still my Valentine, right?” you ask, nuzzling your nose into her hair and squeezing her tighter. It works up a little giggle out of her, which means you’re in the clear. 

“I guess so. You didn’t even ask me.” 

You squeeze her again, this time digging your fingertips into her sides to tickle another laugh out of her. 

“It was on the card that came with the strawberries, obviously.” you quip, peppering her cheek and neck in kisses while she continues to soften up. 

“Oh, get out of here. Go take your damn nap.” she says with a smile, turning you by the shoulders towards the house and pushing gently. 

—

HER POV

You hear the soft padding of feet upstairs and the whip of the flat sheet as your bed is remade, pulling your attention away from your computer screen as you send off emails. The sun is set now, the room cast in darkness, and you figure Josh has slept off the fatigue that was a result of his medications. You gently close your computer, setting it next to you on the couch as you hear his feet walking slowly down the stairs. You turn to lay eyes on him, looking a little worse for wear in his low slung joggers, but still glowing as usual. 

“Hey baby, you feel any better?” you ask, resting your chin on the back of the fluffy leather couch cushion. 

“No. Not really, but it’s fine.” he pauses, reaching the landing and walking up to the back of the couch. He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time, “You want to get ready, we can go grab dinner?” he asks, running a hand over his messy curls. 

“I would love to, but are you sure you want to?” you ask, a little surprised that he actually wants to go out. 

“Yeah, I have to eat with these antibiotics.” he says, pushing off the couch, and heading into the kitchen. “How long do you need to get ready?”

“Um, I don’t know, twenty minutes or so?” you answer, standing quickly and grabbing your phone from the coffee table. 

“Alright, I’ll be up there to change in a minute.”

You take the stairs two at a time, rounding the corner into your bedroom, and dashing into the closet. You finger through your hangers searching for the perfect outfit, the idea not occurring to you that you’d need one since he wasn’t even supposed to be home for Valentine’s day this year. 

You pull a dark burgundy top from the hanger, the thick sweater material perfect for the cold snap that has swept over Nashville this week. You pull your t-shirt over your head and put it on while reaching for a pair of dark wash jeans. After shimmying into the denim pants, you find a pair of heels, kicking off your socks and securing the buckle at your ankle. 

You make a mad dash into the bathroom, doing a quick version of your normal make up and running a curling iron through your hair. You’re spraying your wrist with his favorite perfume just as you see him walk past the bathroom door and into the closet. You can hear him changing clothes, grabbing his coat and pulling it over his arms as he steps into the bathroom and meets your gaze in the mirror. 

“Wow, uh, you know it’s freezing out, right? Actually, colder than freezing.” he says, adjusting his sleeves. 

“Yeah, I’ll grab my coat from the closet down stairs, no big deal.” you answer, walking towards him and shutting off the bathroom light. 

“You sure you want to wear heels?” he asks, as he ushers you downstairs, a lilt in his voice.

You open the coat closet, grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your arms. “Yeah, why not?”

He throws his hands up, “Just asking…”

You grab your purse from the kitchen counter, following his lead out to the car. He makes a point to open your car door, shutting it behind you before skittering across the front of the car to join you. 

With the turn of his keys, his Jeep roars to life, his fingers quickly pressing the buttons to turn on the heat. He puts the car in reverse, backing up enough to turn around in the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath his tires. He lays his hand over top of yours on your thigh, clasping your hand in his. He licks over his lips and turns to look at you. 

“Hey,” he pauses, waiting until he has your attention. You let your eyes meet his, before he refocuses on the road. “I’m sorry about earlier… I just have a short fuse when I’m in pain. Thank you for taking me today, and thanks for taking care of me.”

“Oh, it’s– it’s okay, I know you don’t feel good. Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re here now, right?” you say, offering him a lopsided smile.

He pats your thigh as he drives down the road, leading you into town as he mouths the words to the songs playing through the speakers. Your heart flutters as you look at him, your head tilting back to rest on the headrest, just happy to be with him, and happy that he changed his mind about doing something tonight. 

You’re quickly pulled from your daydreams as he whips the car into the parking lot of Phil’s Tavern, a local spot that is not exactly known for its phenomenal cuisine, sitting a whopping 5 minutes away from your home. You sit up a little straighter, making sure you’re seeing this right, and that he really is parking the car. 

“Phil’s…” you question, turning to look at him. 

“...Yeah? Did you want something else…?” he asks, as if annoyed you’d question his decision.

“You said– You– I thought we were going to dinner, not picking up sandwiches from the fucking neighborhood bar?!” you shout. 

“I’m not getting a sandwich. I’m getting soup. You can get whatever you want.” he says, pulling his keys from the ignition, and opening his door. 

A huff leaves your mouth as your jaw hangs slack, watching in shock as he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way to yours. He opens yours and offers you a hand to step down, but you’re still sitting in shock that this is his idea of a romantic Valentine’s day date. 

“Josh…” you admonish, looking down at your heels and sweater. 

“What? I asked you if you wanted to wear that and you said yes!” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah! I didn’t think we were going to fucking Phil’s, Josh! It’s Valentine’s Day! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t a lot of cars in the parking lot?!”

He clicks his tongue, and looks around. “Perfect, then we have the place to ourselves.”

Your eyes close on their own and you take a deep breath to keep yourself from having a meltdown. You grab your purse from the floorboard and grab his hand, stepping out of the car and snatching it away from him as soon as your feet hit the gravel.

He shuts the door behind you and locks the car, the two of you walking quickly into the dimly lit bar and grill. You walk up to the counter to order, watching as the bartender throws back a shot with the guys at the end of the bar. You catch his attention and he rushes over to the order counter pulling a pen out of his pocket. “What can I get ‘cha?”

“Hey man, can we uh– I’ll take the soup of the day, whatever it is is fine.” 

“It’s ahh, it’s Chicken Tortilla.” he answers. 

“Yeah, that’s great, thanks.” he answers, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “Babe?” he murmurs, wanting you to order. 

“Okay, I’ll do a Cuban, extra pickles.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He nods, “Outta Cuban bread, sorry sweets.” 

“Okay I’ll do the Italian then.” you concede, watching him scribble it down on the notepad.

“You want that hot or cold?” he asks. 

“Hot.”

“Think our press is down, but I can check.” he says, turning to shout towards the kitchen.

“It’s down, is cold fine?” he asks, him and Josh both staring at you. 

“Fuck.” you mutter under your breath. “Yes, fine.”

“$17.97.” he says, ringing the service bell for the staff. Josh swipes his card through the card reader and puts it back into his wallet, placing it back in his pocket before thanking the man at the counter. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t tell him it’s to go. You don’t care if we take it home, right? It’s a little loud in here.” he doesn't give you a chance to answer before stepping back up to the window.

You pull your phone from your purse, opening Instagram to mindlessly scroll while you wait for your food, seeing story after story of the dates your friends are on, fueling your rage all the more. You didn’t care that you weren’t at a fancy restaurant. You didn’t care that you were having a sandwich. You cared that he seemingly didn’t care about how you were feeling. That it was just any other old day to him, simply because he didn’t subscribe to the holiday. But that didn’t mean you didn’t. You tried to see the bright side, that he was home, and that you were at least together, even if he was in a sour mood.

He steps back over to you, pulling his own phone from his pocket and sending a few texts. You can’t help but notice how carefree he is, completely unbothered and oblivious to how you’re feeling as you stand right next to him.  

“You wanna watch a movie or something when we get back?” he asks, putting his phone in his jacket pocket. 

“What movie?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I don’t know, a documentary? We can find something, I’ll probably fall asleep watching it anyways.”

You huff out a laugh, “Of course. Yeah, whatever you want Josh.”

“What’s your deal tonight, Y/N, Jesus…”

You feel your blood boiling beneath your skin and just as you are about to unleash, the order bell rings and a brown paper bag is placed on the counter. Josh steps up and grabs it, pulling his car keys from his pocket and heading for the door, leaving you to follow behind him.

—

He pulls into the driveway rapidly, rocks flying as he throws the car into park. Shutting off the engine he pulls his keys from the ignition and grabs the brown paper bag from the center console. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll start the fireplace.”

You huff as you step out of the car, making your way up the walkway, pulling the sleeves of your coat over your hands. He unlocks the front door and places the to-go bag on the kitchen counter on his way to the living room.  

You take off your coat and hang it in the closet, pulling your foot up to release the buckles of your heels, letting you drop back down to your normal height. You can hear him mumbling in the living room, clearly having a hard time getting the fire lit. You walk into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of red wine off the top of the fridge, and searching around the junk drawer for the corkscrew. It’s no time at all before you’re popping the cork out of the bottle and pouring the Merlot into a bulbous green colored wine glass. 

He joins you in the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink before looking over at you, starting to take the first sip of your wine. “Really? You’re serious…”

“Serious, what? About this glass of wine? Yeah, I am.” you quip, swallowing down the first sip.

“You’re really gonna drink my favorite wine, right in front of me when you know I can’t have any? What are you playing at tonight, Y/N?” he seethes, pulling his plastic container of soup from the bag.

“What am I playing at? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that just because you can’t drink, meant that I had to follow suit! My mistake!” you shout, setting the glass down on the marble countertop maybe a little more forcefully than you should have. 

He shakes his head trying to rid the nasty thoughts you know are swirling around up there as he pulls a spoon from the utensil drawer. “Whatever, I’m gonna take this to the couch.”

You grab a plate from the cabinet in front of you, unwrapping your sandwich and placing it on the plate. You look over and see him tinkering with the TV remote, no doubt queueing up something the two of you have watched, studied, and rewatched a hundred times. You grab your wine glass and your plate and join him in the living room, setting your items on the coffee table before sitting at the opposite end of the couch. 

The tension in the air is thick, neither of you wanting to say anything for fear of it turning into yet another argument. So instead, he presses play on the remote, and as suspected, ‘Kubrick by Kubrick’ begins to play for the 77th time in this household.

“Josh, really…” you whine, your shoulders slumping in defeat. 

“I don’t want to get too invested in anything, I’m gonna pass out as soon as I finish this soup.” he answers, turning up the volume to effectively silence you.  

“Can’t we watch something, I don’t know… With a plot? With a shred of romance? That we haven’t seen a hundred times?” you barter, talking over the intro music.

“Can’t you just let me enjoy being home for once?” he snaps, pressing pause on the remote.

Your eyes dial in on his, and almost poetically, you’re positive he can see the reflection of the flames in the fireplace dancing across your infuriated eyes.

“For once…” you breathe, biting your tongue.  “Sure, sure. You uh– you just enjoy yourself, okay? I would hate to ruin your time at home with my presence.” you say, standing up from the couch with your wine glass in hand, leaving your sandwich laying there as you bound up the stairs. 

Before you even reach the top you hear the music blare back to life, and the slurping of the soup from his spoon. If you had a bedroom door you would slam it but fucking of course, you don’t.

You place your wine glass on your nightstand before walking into your closet ridding yourself of the wasted outfit. You pull a slinky black satin slip from your pajama drawer, dropping it over your bare body before padding back out to the bedroom to close the curtains. 

You draw back the fluffy flax colored duvet, thinking of nothing but positively melting into your olive green linen sheets; a Christmas splurge the two of you decided you couldn’t live without. Sinking down into the feather pillows you let out a sigh, finding yourself exactly where you expected to be tonight, before you ever knew Josh was coming home for a few days.

You settle in with your glass of wine and your kindle, reading love stories of men, who at this point, you were sure didn’t really exist. An hour or so later, when the wine was long gone, and the house had grown quiet you heard the front door lock, and the flick of the light switches downstairs. You switched off your lamp, hoping to avoid any further conversation for the night, placing your tablet on the nightstand and pulling the sheets up over your shoulders. 

His footfall is light as he pads up the wooden stairs, rounding the corner hesitantly as he catches sight of you in the bed. He slides his hand down the wall as he enters the room, walking quietly into the bathroom and shutting the door. You can hear the sink running and the sound of him tossing his clothes into the hamper as you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep.

It’s not long until you hear the door open and feel the dip in the bed as he slides in behind you, a  gentle sigh leaving his lips as he sinks into the sheets. You feel the brush of his knuckles as they glide up your spine. “I know you’re not asleep, my love…”

Knowing you’re caught, you turn softly to your back, “No, you don’t know. I could have been.”

A soft smile forms on his lips, a few misplaced curls falling over his forehead, “Not true. I know you fall asleep with your arms over your head every single night. And in the middle of the bed. You never sleep on your side of the bed.”

“Well maybe I want to tonight.” you quip, rolling back to your side and repositioning the sheets.

“Come on baby, don’t be like that.” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist. He pulls you towards him, his obviously nude body conforming to yours. You can feel him, hard against your back and you push away from him. 

“Josh…” you scold. 

“What, baby…” he asks, running his hand along the curve of your waist. “I miss you…”

“You didn’t an hour ago!” you sneer.

“Yes I did! I miss you all the time! Every single day I’m away from you. That’s why you moved in, remember? So I could spend every day with you when I’m home?” he pauses, “Every night like this?”

“Josh, I just– Tonight was… Well the entire day, really, was rough. I’m not exactly in a romantic mood at the moment.” you answer.

“Well that’s okay, you can just blow me instead.” he says, more of a demand than a question, his lips brushing against your shoulder. 

“Oh can I?! How generous of you to offer that to me! What a privilege!” you mock. “You really have earned it, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself!” you scorn, reaching for his hand and shoving it towards his dick. “Try that instead!”

“Goddamn you’re being such a bitch!” he seethes, throwing the duvet off of himself and snatching his phone from the nightstand. 

“Yeah! Happy Valentine’s day to you too, Josh!” you spit one last time as you watch him pull on a pair of boxers. He smooths his hand over his face and runs his tongue under his lips, looking at you one more time before stomping his way down the stairs. 

—

JOSH POV

It took you approximately fourteen seconds after you said it to know you fucked up. It took you two more seconds to realize there was no coming back from it, at least that’s what you deduced as you tossed and turned on the living room couch all night. You spent those sleepless hours racking your brain for ways you could fix this. You were a dick, admittedly, in pain or not, and she in no way deserved the way you treated her.

You pulled your sore body up from the couch, tossing the throw blanket over the arm as you made your way up the stairs. She was still sleeping, sprawled across the middle of the bed with your pillow hugged to her face. You wished you could take back what you said. You wished you had taken her somewhere nicer than Phil’s. You should have known that when you saw her in heels and smelled your favorite perfume. She dressed up for you. But you couldn’t see past your own selfish needs. You only cared about yourself and what you wanted. 

You kicked yourself the entire time you spent under the spray of the shower, knowing that of the three sporadic days you would spend at home with her, you’d let one go completely to shit. Then tonight, you’d spend the whole night schmoozing with label executives, where she would willingly stand in your shadow until it was time to go home. 

Unless…

A smile spread across your face as you formulated your plan, and as you shut off the water and wrapped a towel around your waist you hoped and prayed it would work. 

—

You rap your knuckles against the old wooden front door, peeking through the glass to see if there is any movement inside. It’s nearly noon and you know he’s in there, but whether or not he’s awake is the question. You shove your hands into your pockets, the cold air whipping through the porch a little too harshly for your liking. 

You hear his footsteps bounding down the stairs and you see him appear through the glass, a strange look on his face as he opens the door. 

“If you’re on my doorstep, you want something that a text wouldn’t cover.” he says, raising a brow.

“Can I not come visit my twin?” you ask, pushing past him into his warm house.

“No, I think your last words to me when we left the airport were ‘Fuck off, don’t call me, I’ll see you in three days’, but I could be mistaken.” he says, shutting the front door. 

“Listen…” you counter, flopping yourself down onto his couch with a huff.

He stands across the living room with his hands on his hips and a small smile on his lips. There’s something different about him, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Almost like a little bit of life has been breathed into him. 

“Why do you look different…” you ask, the intrusive thought pushing through.

“I don’t.” he says, putting his hands on his hips. His eyes flick up to the window behind you, before looking back at you. 

You cut your eyes at him, you can tell he’s not telling the truth but you let it go because you have more important issues to deal with. 

“I need a favor.” you say, cutting right to the chase. 

He raises his eyebrows signaling for you to continue. 

“I need you to go to this event tonight in my place, I–”

“No.” he shouts, cutting you off. 

“Jake, please. Y/N and I got in a huge fight and I have to make it up to her and I can’t if I have to go to this fucking thing tonight.” you explain, giving him the shortened version. 

“No. Actually, my answer is not only no, but fuck no.” Jake stood with his arms crossed across his chest. You let your head flop back onto his couch, a groan leaving your chest. 

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t fucking dire.” You plead. “I fucked up, and I have to make it right. Please Jake…”

“Jesus Christ, it’s Thanksgiving all over again. You know Josh, if you and Y/N didn’t fight like this every other day, I might be more willing to consider it. One day you’re gonna fuck around and lose her for good.” he says, shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his chin. “Hold on, you two fought on Valentine’s day? Fuckin’ poetic. What did you do, buy the wrong flowers? The wrong chocolates?”

“No, I… Didn’t get her flowers.” you mumble, hoping he didn’t hear you. 

“Okay, so no flowers. Did you take her out to dinner or something?” he asks, tilting his head.

“No, I mean, well, kind of.” you mumble again. “Didn’t really think about it.”

“Where did you take her Josh.” he demands, crossing his arms again. 

“We went to Phil’s…And got…To-go…” you answer, realizing again as you say it out loud how bad it sounds. 

“The fucking sandwich place Josh, you’re kidding me…” he spits, starting to pace around the room. 

“Don’t act all high and mighty Jacob, you sat home alone...” you retort, knowing this isn’t helping your case.

He lifts his finger to you, pointing at you with a scowl, “Fuck you. Also, it sounds like she was justified. Didn’t she take you to the doctor yesterday? Hasn’t she been catering to your ass since we’ve been back?”

“Yeah.” you answer. 

“And you didn’t plan a single thing at all…” he confirms. 

“Correct.” you say, over enunciating the ‘T’.

“Asshole.”

“Okay, so you agree, I fucked up and need to fix this.” you say, gesturing with your hands. “So go to the event tonight in my place and let me smooth things over with Y/N tonight.”

“Sorry, but I can’t. I have plans.” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Plans?! With who? You don’t leave your house!” you shout, seeing a blur of black fur and claws tear across the living room. “Jesus, I always forget you have that thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not keeping it.” he says, shaking his head. “And it’s none of your business. You’re going to that event. The label doesn’t care if you’re in a fight with your girlfriend. They are expecting you, and you are who they’re gonna get. Plus, Sam will be there so you don’t have to do all the talking. Take her with you, lay it on thick, and take her home. Things will blow over like they always do and you’ll be back to your 2AM facetime gushy bullshit in no time.”

“Fuck…” you sigh, laying down across his couch. “I just don’t think it’s gonna go that way. This was a bigger fight than usual.” you say, feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out to see your timer flashing, indicating it is time for your next dose of antibiotics. 

You reach into your other pocket, pulling out the loose pill, and grabbing the glass of water you assume to be Jake’s from the coffee table. You swallow down the pill as he watches in contempt, checking the time on his phone. 

“Do you need anything else?” he asks, pacing around his living room. 

“No. Guess fuckin’ not. What are you getting into today?” you ask, relaxing back into the cushions. 

“I have… some errands to run. And a few other things.” he says, dismissively. 

“Errands and a few other things? Who the fuck are you…” you ask, stretching your legs out on to the coffee table.

“I was about to take a shower, are you staying or going?” he asks, and as you lay your head back on the couch your eyes start to feel heavy.

“Just gonna rest my eyes for a minute.” you answer, getting more comfortable. 

“Goddamnit, Josh… Okay, but you’re leaving when I do.”

—

The sound of the front door closing is what wakes you, and as you come to you see Jake standing in front of you with grocery bags, clearly back from his errands. 

“Well, good morning.” he says, his tone a little snipped. 

“Shit, what time is it?” you ask, pulling your phone from your pocket and checking the time. Fuck. 

“Yeah, time for you to go the fuck home and get ready.” he says, making his way into the kitchen. 

“Alright, I’m outta here, good luck with your… plans…” you smirk, making your way to the door. 

“Don’t need luck, but sounds like you do. Fix it, Josh.” he says, pushing you out the front door and slamming it behind you. 

—

HER POV

As you leave the house, you think back on how many hours it’s been since you spoke to Josh. He popped into the bedroom when he got home and let you know that you had to leave by 6 to get to the event on time, but you don’t really count that as a conversation. You hadn’t actually exchanged words since your argument before bed. 

The two of you sit in complete silence as he drives, the radio turned down so low it’s barely audible. You hold your jacket close around you, unable to shake the chill from the awful cold snap plaguing Nashville. 

As you arrive, Josh quickly gets out of his Jeep, jogging around to your door to open it and offer you a hand to step out. You accept it, begrudgingly, and steady yourself on the asphalt. You opted for smaller heels tonight, a little scorned from the night before. You look at him and see his slightly forced smile under the streetlight. He’s in his favorite brown suit, his hair in perfect curls, three tiny, metallic dots painted on the apples of his cheeks. He looks sinfully good, and if you weren’t so upset with him, you’d kiss him square on the lips.

“I know you don’t want to be here. Just… at least try to smile in the pictures, okay?” He says, a hopeful lilt to his voice. 

You give him a little side-eye before starting to walk towards the front doors of the venue. He catches up with you after locking the car, his hand landing on your upper back as he ushers you into the front door he’s holding open for you.

The two of you wait in line for the coat check, your eyes scanning the lobby for anyone you may know. You don’t recognize anyone, so you shuffle ahead in line and keep your coat pulled tight around you. Once you’re a bit further up in line, almost to the front, you hear a familiar voice. 

“Heeeeey guys!” 

Sam’s arms wrap around both of you from behind, pulling you into a forced group hug. He unintentionally cuts the entire coat check line to stand with you and Josh.

“Hi Sammy,” you mumble, giving him a halfhearted smile. He looks to Josh, who forces a grin, his nose scrunching up in a way that makes it clear to Sam that the two of you aren’t getting along. It’s nothing new to Sam, so he shrugs it off. 

The line moves again and you’re finally at the front. A friendly young girl is standing behind the podium at the entry to the closet, a few guys running back and forth to take coats and put them in their assigned spots. She offers the three of you a smile as she looks down and tears a tab in half. 

“Can I take your coat, sir?” she asks Josh as you start to shrug your own off your shoulders.

“Ohoho, trying to get me out of my clothes, young lady? I just walked in the door!” he says, like he’s some sort of comedian. You roll your eyes so hard you think they may fall out of your head and fold your coat over your arm. She laughs, her cheeks turning pink as she accepts your coat instead. She dutifully hands the coat to the boy behind her, then offers the other half of the ticket up, between you and Josh for either to grab it.

“And now you’re trying to give me your number?” he jokes with a charismatic grin, seeing the number 107 on your ticket. She lets out a shameless giggle at that one and you can’t help but shake your head and walk away, uninterested in hearing any more of his god awful jokes. You arrived in a terrible mood and he’s already managed to make your night worse.

Passing through the entrance to the cocktail hour, you grab a glass of champagne and thank the server. Taking a big sip, you look behind you and see Sam and Josh approaching, Josh talking animatedly with his hands to Sam, but Sam is looking straight ahead. At you. 

His eyes scan over your figure- you’re in a champagne satin mini-dress. The cowl neckline is loose, but the waist pulls in due to the lace-up back. The shimmery color is brought to life under the light right above where you’re standing. Sam isn’t listening to a single word Josh is saying, just nodding and staring at you from a distance as his steps slow. 

It’s then that you cook up a terrible idea, if not the worst you’ve ever had. If Josh wants to treat you like he doesn’t care about you and put more romantic energy into the coat check girl than he’s shown you in days, you may as well give him a taste of his own medicine. Right?

Sam eventually pulls his eyes away from your body, nodding cluelessly at Josh. He can’t help it and looks back at you again, but this time, Josh’s gaze follows his. You sip your champagne, ignoring the way Josh’s eyebrows raise in surprise as his neck cranes forward slightly. You can read his lips as he says, “Jesus Christ.” and look away without giving him a reaction. 

The two of them make their way over to the high top cocktail table you’ve claimed as your own. Josh clears his throat and musters up the courage to speak to you. His voice sounds like it might crack. 

“I’ve never seen that dress. Where’d you get it?” he asks, giving you another once-over now that he’s closer.

“You sent it to me while you were in Paris for my birthday.” you answer dryly. “Or was that your assistant too?” 

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, realizing he’s just dug himself a little bit deeper. 

“Come to think of it, Josh, have you ever bought me a gift yourself? Or do you just send the people that work for you on errands to ship me fancy baubles to keep me quiet and occupied while you’re away?” 

He steps a little closer to you, lowering his voice. 

“Do we have to do this here?” he pleads. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember. You look beautiful. Okay? Let me go get you a drink. What do you want?” 

You cut your eyes to Sam, who seems to be trying to occupy himself by staring up at the ceiling. Letting out a big sigh, you mumble back a tired, “Champagne,” to Josh. 

He nods and walks off, heading for the bar. In the meantime, you look at Sam, who’s giving you a nervous smile. 

“Sorry. It’s been… a rough few days.” You confess. “This ear thing has turned him into a jackass.” 

“Oh, yeah. He complained the whole way home.” Sam says, commiserating. 

“So it’s not just me?!” You laugh, Sam joining you. 

“No no. Not just you.”

You notice Josh is on his way back and decide to test the waters. Reaching forward, you step closer to Sam and adjust the collar of his shirt under his suit jacket, your touch lingering as you let your hand brush down the front of his chest before tugging his jacket into place and pulling your hands back to yourself. You’re in close proximity, so you look up at him with a little bat of your eyelashes. 

“Oh. Thank you!” He says, a little caught off guard, but he’s Sam, and he’s friendly, and you know he’s going to let you get away with it. 

Josh appears and somehow squeezes his arm between you and Sam, placing your champagne on the table. He’s noticed the mischievous glint in your eye and it’s game on. 

The event starts to pick up, more and more people roping Josh into conversations. It’s obvious that he’s the more recognizable of the two brothers there tonight, so you find yourself left standing with Sam on more than a few occasions. 

“Did you trim your hair?” You ask him, reaching out to twirl the end of his shiny brown locks around your finger. He chuckles softly, feeling a little bashful. Josh is at your side but deep in conversation with a man you’ve never seen in your life.

“Yeeaaaaah, I did, it was getting a little unruly. Just trying to keep it healthy. I’m surprised you noticed.” 

“Of course I noticed, Sammy. Some people may not notice you. But I always do.” Your voice is syrupy sweet. You feel a nudge from the other side of you and Josh is clearly eavesdropping, his brain working overtime as he nods at the gentleman talking his ear off while also listening to you and Sam. Sam doesn’t notice and gives you a soft laugh, shrugging. His cheeks are tinted a little pink. He’s too easy. 

“Why don’t we go find our table for dinner, hm?” Josh suggests, cutting his conversation short, which is just not in his character. You finish your last sip of champagne and leave your glass on the table. 

“You heard him. C’mon, Sammy boy.” 

You reach for his arm, linking it with yours. Josh gives you a look, but you usher him forward with a dismissive gesture. He glowers at you before walking toward the seating chart to see that the three of you are at table six. Sam follows along, his hand in his pocket as you hold on to his forearm. 

You settle into the chair between Sam and Josh. You opt for the chicken when the caterers come around, and both Sam and Josh go for the fish. There are a few speeches that go on before your plates arrive, so you sit politely and listen, Josh’s back to you as the speakers present. Since Sam is behind you, there are a few points where you turn around to laugh with him about something the presenter says. Josh stays facing forward, effectively blocking the two of you out. 

As your plates are delivered, everyone starts to eat, the table occasionally chattering, but it’s mostly quiet as some music plays. 

“How’s the chicken?” Josh asks, trying to make small talk. You take a bite, nodding. 

“Really good. And the fish?” You ask politely, but you don’t really care. 

“Delicious. Do you want a bite?” He asks, gesturing to his plate with his utensils. 

“Oh, no. No thanks.” You reply, turning away. He shrugs and goes back to eating his dinner, sipping his water.

“Do you wanna try a bite of the chicken, Sammy?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. You give him a soft smile as he nods, swallowing his bite.

Cutting a piece, you lift your fork towards Sam and he instinctively opens his mouth. Your other hand comes up under his chin to make sure he doesn’t get any sauce on his jacket. He accepts the bite from your fork and chews, nodding. 

“Oh, that’s really good. I should have gotten that.” He says, talking with his mouth full. It’s then that the stranger next to Sam interjects. 

“How long have you two been together?” She says, a nosey but well meaning woman. Josh nearly chokes on his dinner, pulling his cloth napkin up to his mouth as he coughs. It’s such a distraction that you don’t hear what Sam says to her. 

Once Josh stops coughing, he looks at you with a subtle anger behind his eyes. 

“Can you stop? I get it. You made your point.” Josh grumbles through gritted teeth. You feign innocence, blinking at him with bullshit doe eyes. 

“What point, Josh?” 

“You’re flirting with my brother so blatantly that strangers think you’re dating. What the fuck am I supposed to do, just sit here and let it happen?” 

Sam, realizing tensions are high, starts to stand up. 

“I’m gonna go get some air…” he says, departing from the table like it’s on fire. 

“I’m not flirting with him. I’m just being nice to him. You remember what that is, right? Being nice?” You say with an attitude, tilting your head as you wait for an answer. 

“Cut it out.” He tenses his jaw and his mouth barely moves as he scolds you like you’re some kind of dog. 

“Fuck you, Josh.” You’re not putting up with it for another second, so you push away from the table, grab your drink, and head in the direction Sam went. 

As you sneak through the crowds and the bar lines, you check to see if Josh is following you, but he’s still seated at the table. You see Sam through the glass doors, standing under a tent that’s doing little to nothing to stop the wind, smoking a cigarette. Gently pressing against the push bar, you slip outside and approach him tentatively. 

It’s quiet between the two of you as he gives you a smile that’s more of a grimace, though you know him and know that it’s not his intention. 

“Two wrongs don’t make a right, you know that, right?” He says, giving you a knowing smirk as he exhales some smoke. You sigh, kicking at a pebble beneath your feet. You hold your glass of champagne with both hands, your thumb nervously running along the side of it. 

“I feel like I do. But sometimes I can’t help myself.” You peer up at him, a coy smile spreading across your face. He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“You two are a match made in hell,” he starts, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “But I can’t imagine him with anyone else.” 

You roll your eyes. Lately you’ve been feeling like Josh doesn’t even want to be with you anymore, but it’s not like you would have time to even discuss splitting up in person, since he’s hardly around long enough. Instead of divulging any of that to Sam, you lift your head and step closer. 

“Can I have a drag of that?” You ask, giving him a mischievous smirk. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You know how he is.” Sam says, well aware that the only thing Josh thinks it’s okay to smoke is not cigarettes. 

“Just one.” You bargain, looking out at the parking lot for a moment, then up at him with doe eyes. He can’t help but smile at you in return. 

“Don’t even touch it. He’ll smell it on your hands.” He jokes, turning it around in his fingers and holding it towards you. You tilt up your chin, smiling sweetly before he moves it closer to your pouty, glossy lips. Your eyes close gently and you start to inhale. 

Within seconds, it’s pulled from your lips, and all you hear is Sam’s thick Michigan accent as he whines, “OWWWW!” your eyes shooting open. 

“I will break every bone in your fuckin’ hand if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, Samuel.” Josh threatens, suddenly outside with the two of you on the patio. Sam grabs the cigarette from his restrained hand with his free one, dropping it to the ground and stepping on it with wide eyes. 

Josh pushes his arm towards him as he lets it go and Sam nearly trips over himself, mumbling a startled, “Jesus Christ.” before adjusting his suit jacket and heading for the door.  

“And you.” Josh is positively seething, as he steps up to you. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”

You nervously step backwards, leaning onto the railing behind you as he cages you in. “Josh, I’m–”

“Oh, it’s a little late for that, don't you think? I fucking warned you, Y/N.” His hand grips into your elbow, yanking your forward and dragging you behind him as you make your way back inside the building. “Get your fucking coat and meet me at the front door.” he says, releasing you as you enter back into the large crowd. 

You walk back over to your table, collecting your bag and your champagne before rushing over towards the coat check. You hand the same girl your ticket stub, and you anxiously sip your champagne as you wait. You may have pushed him too far this time. Seconds later she returns with your coat, and you take it with a smile, pulling it over your arms and making your way to the front door. 

Josh is waiting, chewing a piece of gum a little harsher than necessary. His jaw is hard set and his cheeks are pink and you know this does not bode well for you. As you approach him he offers a small wave and a smile to someone behind you, before letting his eyes drift back to yours, full of fury, the tension returning to his body. 

“Oh, so you can listen.” he says, yanking the large glass door open, both of you being hit with the cold outside air. You step out the door and begin the walk to the car, clutching your jacket close to your body. Your teeth chatter as the wind hits you, your whole body shivering. 

“What, are you cold in that slutty little dress?” he asks, walking a little too quickly for you to keep up with him. “Seemed just fine on the patio with Sam. Suck it up and keep walking.”

He turns his head looking back at you as you try to drink down the rest of your champagne. He reaches for the glass, ripping it from your hand and tossing it into the bushes. You hear the glass shatter and you’re a little taken aback. You’ve never seen him this mad before, and you hate that you kinda like it. 

“Josh!” you shout, you cheeks heating at his aggressiveness, and you think the alcohol in your system is to blame for that. 

“What has gotten into you, Y/N?! You think– You think you can just go around acting like a little slut at my work events? With my fucking brother? Do you know how that looks!?” he shouts, as you round the corner, steadily approaching the car. He is still chewing the gum too hard, hoping it will relieve some of the tension pulsing through his body.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Josh, I think the pain meds are making you crazy.” you scoff, completely brushing off his accusations, even though he is completely right. 

“Oh, fuck offff…It’s not the pain meds, it’s you! You’re making me fucking crazy! Running around like a little trollop just to make me irate for sport!” he yells, his midwestern accent peeking out in his anger. 

He reaches for the door handle, yanking it open to let you step in, regardless of how angry he currently is. As you position yourself in the seat you turn to look at him, ready to deliver another snarky comment but as you open your mouth he cuts his eyes and slams the car door closed. You huff and fasten your seatbelt as he joins you on the other side. 

He starts the car and peels out of the parking spot, spinning the tires as he pulls out onto the main road. Your hands grasp at the door handle for stability, his expression unwavering as he continues to blow down the backstreets of downtown Nashville. 

“Josh, I–”

“No. Silence. Don’t say another fucking word until I speak to you first. Got it?” he snaps, the fury is thick in his voice. 

You cross your arms over your chest, debating whether or not to taunt him further. As if he can hear your thoughts he turns to you, speaking through clenched teeth. 

“Not. A. Fucking. Word.”

The rest of the drive home was spent in silence, and you could tell he was compiling his list of your transgressions. You knew that the second the front door shut behind you he was going to unleash every bit of it on you, and to be quite honest, you couldn’t wait.

Once he tears recklessly up the driveway, he kills the engine and the headlights. Throwing open the door, he slams it behind him and makes his way around to the passenger side. Despite his burning anger, he’s still insistent on opening your door for you. He offers you a hand and when you take it, you feel how warm he is to the touch. Hopping down to the ground, he lets you steady yourself, then tugs your hand so you’re forced to walk in front of him. He lets go once he knows you’ve gotten the hint and start off wobbling through the gravel in your heels like a baby deer as he locks the car. 

You wait next to the front door, knowing Josh has his keys and you opted to leave yours at home to save space in your clutch. He ignores you, his jaw still working overtime on the probably stale gum in his mouth, turning the key in the lock and pushing into the house. He leaves the door open for you to follow him in, so you do, shutting it gently as you slip off your heels. 

He tosses his keys onto the dining table and you watch as they slide to a halt as he rids himself of his suit coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. You make a move towards the closet, ready to hang your own coat but as you walk he steps in front of you, snatching the thick black fabric from your hands to throw it over the same chair. He stares at you with a hardened jaw, his face and ears red as he prepares for his onslaught, and as a small grin turns up the corner of your lips you see his anger tip the scales to catastrophic. 

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up, Josh. If I didn’t know any better I would say you’re acting a bit jealous. Or threatened, maybe?” you pause, tapping your finger to your chin. “Yeah, I think threatened is the right word. Are you nervous little Sammy is gonna steal your spotlight and your girl?”

“Steal my spotlight?” he responds, scoffing. It’s clear you hit a nerve there. “You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut. Especially when it comes to things you know nothing about.”

“I know how many people were bumping elbows with him tonight, talking about his upcoming projects, barely even asking about the album. He’s got his own career now.” you double down, narrowing your eyes at him, twisting the knife. He steps closer to you, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. You know he’s about to lay into you for that.

“You should be grateful I even let you tag along to these fucking things.” he snaps, his voice raising. “You know, there’s a hell of a lot you should be grateful for, now that I think of it. Do you know how easy it would be for me to find a nice, quiet girl who waits patiently for me to come home and doesn’t spend every waking moment reminding me of my shortcomings?” 

You don’t like the direction he’s taking this, and you’re realizing you may have pushed him a little too far. 

“I could go down the line and pick any one I wanted, but I still come home to you. And this is what I have to put up with?” 

“So do it then! Go ahead and take your pick!” you shout, throwing your hands in the air. His cheeks grow red, and his eyes narrow. 

“But you won’t, will you Josh... Because you know that not a single one of them will stick around once they find out how you really are. When they find themselves home alone night after night. When you don’t speak to them for days at a time when you’re writing or on the road. When you miss their birthday… and every major holiday for that matter. When they find out that your idea of love and romance is having your assistant buy hush gifts you can’t be bothered to choose yourself. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one texting me from your phone, too!”

He slams his fist down on the dining table, his keys rattling against the wood. “That is not true, and you know it!”

“But it is, and you know who puts up with it? Me, because I love you. And I can promise that you’ll be hard pressed to find someone else who is willing to deal with all of that.”

“Dare me?” he challenges, wincing slightly as the pressure builds in his ear. 

“I don’t know Josh, is that what you want? Wouldn’t say I’d be surprised with how you’ve been acting lately.” you say, pushing away from the kitchen table and walking further into the house. 

“How I’ve been acting lately?” he scoffs, following after you, hot on your heels.

“Yeah! Like I’m such a burden to bear. Like you’d rather I wasn’t here. I’m practically your glorified assistant, or arm candy when you feel like dragging me along.”

You start to climb the stairs toward your bedroom, needing to get out of your dress and away from him. Unfortunately, Josh isn’t one to ever let you have the last word, and he starts bounding up the staircase after you.

“Is that what this is about? You’re still mad you had to bring me to the doctor? God forbid I ask you to do something besides complain and spend my money. I needed your help, because if you haven’t noticed, something pretty serious happened to me, but for some reason you won’t stop giving me a hard fucking time about it!” That comment about the money stops you in your tracks, leaving you glaring down at him on the step below you. 

“It’s not about your money and it’s not about me having to help you. It’s about you not giving a shit about how I feel and blowing me off when I try to tell you. All I want is for you to care! Have we grown so far apart that seeing me upset doesn’t even phase you anymore?”

Josh runs his tongue over his teeth as he tries to conjure up a response. He steps up so he’s on the landing with you, a little bit of silence settling over you both.

“And you thought…” he starts, looking out the window behind you for a moment, then back to your eyes. “You thought the way to get me to care… was to behave like a little slut?”

The energy suddenly shifts between you. You know that in the silence, he must have had a realization that he’s not meeting your needs. You feel your mouth go a little dry and you take a step backwards, reaching to hold on to the railing. 

“I–”

“You know what I think…” he says, moving closer, caging you in with his arms. “I think that I’ve been gone too long…” his breath is hot on your cheeks. “I think you’re due for an attitude adjustment.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you grip into the bannister. You swallow nervously, as his hand moves to meet your satin covered waist. “Yeah, I think I need to remind you just how good you have it, don’t I sweetheart?”

The words are there, swirling through your head but as his eyes peer into yours, nothing seems to come out. 

“S’matter, baby? Nothin’ to say suddenly? No smart ass remarks? I’m right, aren’t I? You need me to fuck some sense into you?” he growls, his fingers gripping into the curve of your waist. He nods his head in the direction of your bedroom, a crooked smirk on his face. 

“Go ahead and take off your earrings, baby. Get out of that unbecoming little dress and wait for me on the bed.” he says softly, rubbing a thumb over the apple of your cheek before walking off and locking himself in the bathroom. 

The cocktail of emotions your brain is floating in has you dizzy. You want to be angry at him, but you’re starting to feel a little embarrassed as you think back on how you acted at dinner. Part of you wants to cry, his harsh words hitting you where he knew it would hurt, but another is so turned on by the way he just flipped the switch on the entire emotionally charged exchange.

You shuffle into your shared bedroom, sitting gingerly at your vanity and taking off all of your jewelry. As you take off your rings, you stare at the earrings and necklace in your porcelain dish, remembering when he had gifted each piece to you. Maybe it’s not that he doesn’t care how long or how often he’s away…he just doesn’t know how to make it better. So he sends you trinkets from wherever he visits, reminding you that you’re on his mind. Your heart lurches as you realize that maybe all he wanted while he was away from home was a quiet dinner with you, his love, at Phil’s, and that’s why he didn’t take you out to an expensive steakhouse where you would undoubtedly sit awkwardly across from each other and make conversation. He wanted comfort. He wanted what he knows no other woman can give him. 

You hear the water start to run, which zaps you back into the moment. Standing from the velvet upholstered stool, you head for the walk-in closet and try to reach for the zipper on your dress. You can’t exactly get to it, stretching to try and pinch the zipper between your fingers. The bathroom door opens and you whip your head around, knowing he’s going to come looking for you. 

It’s only seconds before you feel his warm hands gliding across your hips, no doubt knowing you need his help with the zipper. Perhaps that’s why he purchased the dress to begin with. Knowing he would be the one to help you take it off. He moves your hair, laying it all to one side of your neck before pressing his lips to your skin. His fingers pinch the small zipper as he slides it down, letting the silk dress flutter down around your ankles. 

“Tell me you know that I love you.” he breathes, his lips brushing against your neck.

“I know you love me.” you answer, breathless as your chest heaves. 

His hands slide around to your bare stomach, pulling your body back until you’re flush with his own. “Now, tell me you’ll remember that.”

“I’ll remember.” you whisper, feeling him long and hard as he rests against your back. 

He grabs your hips and spins you around to face him, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

A gasp leaves your chest as your eyes meet his, dark and blown out. He drags his thumb over your lips, smearing the remnants of your pink lipstick across your chin. “Now get on the bed like I told you the first time.”

Reluctantly pulling away from him, you make your way back into the bedroom, kneeling on the bed, sitting on your heels. You nervously cover your chest with your hands, the room feeling a little cold all of the sudden. He steps into the room, his hand lingering on the doorframe. 

“Move your hands,” he says, his voice quiet but stern. “You wanted the entire dinner table to see them. Why can’t I?”

Your cheeks burn red as you lower your hands to your lap. He approaches, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he’s appraising you.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” he asks, pushing your hair behind your ear. “My brother?” 

You quickly start to shake your head. Maybe a little too quickly. You watch him with careful eyes as he lets his hand gently graze your throat, then move further down, the gears in his head turning.

“I bet you wanted him to, though…” he adds, pinching at your nipple teasingly, wanting a reaction. You take in a sharp breath between your teeth.

“No.” you say defensively.

“You like Sam because he’s so sweet. He cares. That’s what you want, right? Someone to wipe away your tears when you cry about meaningless shit? You know that’s his specialty.” 

“I don’t like Sam. I just wanted–”

“Save it.” Josh snaps, grabbing harshly at your cheeks to shut you up. He stares at you for a moment before placing a gentle kiss to your squished lips. He pulls away quickly, but doesn’t release his grip on your cheeks.

“If you want to act like a little whore, I’m going to treat you like one. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll tell you.”

He pushes you backwards as he releases his hand, landing you in the pile of soft feather pillows behind you. He stands up from the bed, shimmying off his boxers before crawling back onto the bed in front of you. His eyes meet yours and for a second there is a softness there, almost as if he is asking if you’re okay with this. You offer him a subtle nod before he lowers his head and begins to drag his nose up the length of your leg.

“Did you have fun tonight, flitting around the place, drink in hand, practically begging to be fucked in the bathroom? Hm? Is that what you wanted?” he asks, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh. 

You squirm beneath him as the filthy words leave his angelic lips. “Did you want him to take you away and fuck your stupid little brains out? Answer me.”

“No.” you reply, desperate to feel his lips on your body. “I… I wanted…” you stammer, your bravery leaving you with every shaky breath. He places an open mouthed kiss to your mound, but freezes once your words trail off.

“You never stop talking, but now you’re at a loss for words? Fucking say it, Y/N.” 

“I wanted you!” you cry out, your head falling back onto your pillow, a heavy sigh leaving your chest. He squeezes the softness of your thigh before he speaks.

“And you really thought that would work?” he asks, nipping at your soft skin, chuckling quietly. “You’re dumber than I thought.”  

You feel your skin grow hot at his words, your hips jerking upwards on their own accord.

“You like that, don’t you? You like it when I call you my stupid little girl?” he asks, sucking a mark into your thigh. “My dumb little brat?”

A whine leaves your chest as you feel his tongue slowly start to slide through your folds. 

He pulls away from you, “Ah, ah… Be quiet, remember? I know it’s hard for you to do as you’re told, but if I have to remind you again you aren’t going to like what happens.”

You stifle your moan and move your hips as his hands hold you in place, his tongue reconnecting with your core as he makes slow, languid laps against you. “Did I leave this pretty pussy too long? Does she miss me and need my attention?” 

He moves his hands to let his thumbs spread you further, swirling his tongue over your clit. “I think she misses me so bad that it’s got you acting crazy, my love.” His lips suction against you, sucking you into his mouth with a lewd slurp. His hands slide up to your hips, pulling you closer to his face. His tongue grazes your entrance, dipping in just long enough to tease you. He presses a kiss to your clit before pulling away again. 

“You must be crazy if you think my brother could do even half of what I do to you. No one, no one, treats this pussy like I do. Worships this pussy like I do.”

“Josh…” you whine, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. 

You feel a sharp flick to your clit and you cry out, your body jumping in response.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” he says, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit, as if to soothe the pain he inflicted. You feel a rush of warmth at your core, your body responding positively to his actions. 

“Oh, baby, fuck…” he groans, sliding his fingers thorough the wetness. “But you do like it. You love it.” He pauses, locking eyes with you. “Answer me.”

“I–Yes…” you breathe, feeling his smile against your core. 

“My dirty, sweet, baby likes a little pain with her pleasure.” he growls, sliding a finger inside of you. You clench around it, desperate for more. “Yeah? More? You want two or three?” he asks, his eyes flicking to yours. 

“T-Three.” you beg, breathless as you feel him slide in two more. 

His lips find your clit again, suckling the sensitive nub into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it again and again as his fingers work you from the inside. The pressure is growing and you know you’re close. He must feel you fluttering around him, so he pulls his fingers and mouth away from you quicker than you can blink. 

“Nu-uh. Not until I say so, and I do believe I’d like to get mine first tonight... You know, for my troubles.”

A huff leaves your chest as you look at him, sitting back up to rest on his heels. 

“You know baby, I think I’m feelin’ a little reckless tonight...I’m thinkin’ maybe we skip the condom, what do you say?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, Josh always having been completely adamant that you use protection. Always. Despite being on birth control. You can count the number of times you’ve gone without a condom on one hand over the three years you’ve been together. 

“Are–Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah, I think you need the full effect… need to really feel me so you can remember your place. Remember why you count down the days until I come home.” he says, fisting his base. 

“Although,” he says thoughtfully before pausing. “… if I’m going to fuck you like a whore, I’m gonna have to wear one. Standard procedure, you understand…” he mumbles, reaching over to his nightstand and pulling a silver foil package from the drawer. You feel your heart drop as he rips it out of the package and effectively rips the opportunity away from you. A quiet, disappointed whine leaves your throat.

He clicks his tongue as he watches your face drop, “Aw, what is it? Did you want my cock?” he asks, a smug grin on his face. “If you behaved yourself I probably would have given you what you wanted. It’s a shame, really.”

“Please…” you whine, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh she’s begging for it. God, you really are so sweet when you want to be.” he says, rolling the condom over his cock. 

“Josh come on, please!” it’s a pathetic whine as it leaves your mouth, but you don’t care.

His hand collides with the side of your hip, a loud smack ringing through the room. “Don’t be a little brat. You’ll take what you’re given.”

A whimper leaves your lips as the sting sets in. “That hu—”

“What? Hurt? That’s typically the point, love.” Your hips jerk up towards him, his abs peeking through as he leans towards you. “Now, do you understand?”

You nod your head as he lowers his, pressing his lips to yours. His perfect heart shaped lips capture yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth with fervor. Your hands come up to wrap around his waist, his skin soft and smooth beneath your hands. You feel his muscles tense under your touch as he ruts his hips, dragging himself against you, the sound of the latex audible as you try to angle yourself so he’ll slip inside you.

“So impatient…” he chides, sucking his teeth as he hovers his lips just above yours. He decides to take mercy on you, letting himself start to slide inside with ease. You cup his cheek, kissing him tenderly, a silent thank you. You feel the heat building in your abdomen again, half the battle won after the way he edged you previously. 

“Does that feel good, sweet thing?” he asks, pushing in to the hilt before slowly pulling out again. “You gonna settle down now that you’re feeling nice and full?” he asks, and you respond with a shake of your head. “No?” he questions, surprised. He fucks into you slowly, deeply. You feel every inch of him that you’ve missed… but it’s not the same.

“No…I wanted you to take it off…” you whine. He shakes his head, a little chuckle leaving him.

“You’re in no place to make demands. I’m gonna get mine, toss it in the trash, and leave you wishing it was dripping down your thigh. And if you’re smart, you’ll say thank you.”

You feel yourself clench around him at his cruel words, making him smirk. So he carries on, picking up his pace as he grips into the softness of your thighs.

“But you’re not, are you?” he taunts, lowering his head to kiss and suck at your collarbone. “Can’t be if you pretended to be interested in my idiot brother. You’re mine. What do I have to do to get it to stick in that little brain of yours?” 

You whisper his name, closing your eyes as your cheeks turn pink, his insults both embarrassing you and bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“I told you I’m getting mine first. Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns, his palm landing on the pillow next to your head as he rests his weight and increases his range of motion. As he moves faster, his thrusts become more brutal as he starts to knock the wind out of you. It’s getting harder to keep yourself from losing it, your thighs starting to quiver.

He feels it, because he always does, but you can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t want to stop. He curses breathlessly and pulls out, his hand leaving your hip and moving down to stroke himself, but he lets out a grunt and pushes up to sit on his heels, looking down at himself.

“...Fuck.”

He wraps his arm under your thigh and tugs you closer, urgently, and sheathes himself inside so quickly you cry out.

“Oh, baby. You feel like fucking velvet.” he moans, his head falling back, his moans bouncing off the ceiling. When he pulls back, something feels… different. “Looks like you got what you wanted after all…”

He sits back again and pulls out of you, resting his hands on his thighs as he takes a deep breath like he needs to get himself under control. Sitting up on your elbows, you look down at him between your thighs to see the condom has not just broken, but torn. It’s more than halfway down his shaft, which explains why he felt so slick and warm inside you.

“Oh…” you say softly, your lips parting. You stare at him above you, his chest rising and falling, his eyes heavy as they lock onto yours. He lifts one hand, motioning you forward with two fingers, and you know exactly what he wants. 

“On your knees.”

You don’t hesitate to roll onto your side and stand from the bed, dropping to your knees with your hands in your lap. He watches as you go, waiting until you’re in position to stand himself and approach, raking his hand through your hair almost affectionately. You keep your eyes on him, the way he’s hard and straining against the useless condom.

“Does being on your knees hurt, little slut? Or is that right where you belong?” he asks, resting the tip of his cock against your lips. “Open.” 

You stick out your tongue, dragging it against the bottom of his tip.

“More.” he demands, pushing his hips forward. You open your mouth wider as you move to reach up and touch him, but he immediately tells you, “No.”

Your eyes look up at him, brows furrowing in curiosity as you question silently whether or not he’s going to take the condom off.

It’s sudden and shocking when he answers your question, grabbing the back of your head and shoving himself in deep. You feel him against your tongue, tasting the lube and feeling the latex on the front end of your tongue. 

He starts to thrust so quickly, you reach for his thighs to try and push him back. He doesn’t seem to care, almost relishing in your struggle, his fist tightening in your hair. As a gag works its way up your throat, he pulls you off of him, gasping for air, saliva dripping down your chin and neck. 

“How’s it taste, baby?” he asks, tugging your hair, making you look up at him through bleary eyes, trying to catch your breath. As you open your mouth to answer, he fists himself, shoving himself back into your mouth. You gag immediately and he pulls out, your mouth open as you try to breathe. He doesn’t let you, though, grabbing your jaw and spitting directly into your open mouth. 

“You better think twice before you complain.” 

You snap your jaw shut, swallowing thickly, your eyes popping back open to look up at him in shock. He gives you a crooked smile, pleased with the way he’s managed to throw you off. It only encourages him as you look up at him with wide eyes and try to catch your breath. He quirks a single brow, then runs his tongue over his teeth. 

“Nothing to say?” he asks, challenging you. You shake your head once.

He pushes the head of himself back inside your mouth, then spits again, making you flinch as it lands on your cheek. You squeeze your eyes closed, intending to hollow out your cheeks and suck, but he pulls himself out with a pop and drags his cock through the spit on your face, chuckling. 

“You’re starting to smarten up.” he mumbles. “Little brat.”

He taps the tip of his cock harshly against your lips and you can see the wheels spinning in his head as he plans his next move. “Back on the bed, all fours.” he says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the center of the bed.

You immediately pull yourself from your aching knees and scramble onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, just as instructed. You feel the bed dip behind you and you turn your head, seeing the remnants of the condom still intact around him. He makes no effort to remove it, wearing it like a trophy as his hands find your hips. His left hand slides up the curve of your back before pressing a palm to your spine, a silent order to arch a little further. 

“You’re trembling. You want it so bad don’t you…” he growls, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Want to feel my nice warm cock inside you…Nothing but me and you…You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby…”

“Yes.” you breathe, almost a whisper.

“I shouldn’t…I should put a new one on right now.” he says, the clench of his jaw audible. 

He thrusts himself inside of you, the barrier of latex gone between the two of you, letting you feel every ripple and vein of his perfect cock inside of you. It nearly takes your breath away as his hips slam into you. A groan leaves his chest as his hands grip into your hips, and you can feel his hot breath on your back.

His hips crash violently into yours, his pillow soft tip grazing your cervix with every stroke. He’s struggling to keep his composure, it's evident with his erratic breathing and the stuttering of his hips. 

You clench around him, a whimper falling from his lips in response, briefly breaking the facade he’s chosen for the evening. “Fuck, Y/N… I– I fucking hate you. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

A pang shoots through your chest, you feel the tension in your stomach start to build as you flutter around him. “I hate that I can’t live without you. I hate how much I love you. You–I can’t deny you anything…Not ever…” he pauses, his chest heaving. “Can’t you see that?”

“Josh…” you beg through panting breaths. 

“Not yet, you’re gonna wait. Wait until I say, yeah? Can you wait like my good girl?” he says, struggling to stave off his own release. 

“I– I can’t…” you whine. 

“You will.” he demands, punctuating his sentence with his hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, swear to god I’m gonna– fuck…”

“Josh please, please!” you beg, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“My little slut begging to cum, oh you’re a fucking vision… My angel…” he pauses, sliding his hand around your waist and pinching your nipple between his fingers. You tighten around him and you hear him hiss in response. “Oh goddamn, you’re not a fucking angel though, are you… You’re straight from hell.”

His hips start to falter, and you can tell he’s close. You turn your head to look at him, his hair wild and sweaty against his temples, his jaw hanging slack as he watches himself fuck you. His eyes flick up to meet yours, they are dark and his pupils are wide as a slight smile turns his lips. 

“I know I said I was going to get mine first, but you’ve been such a good girl for me. Go on, cum baby. Cum right on my cock, wanna feel you give yourself to me.” he says, nodding his head. 

His permission throws you right up into the sky, your release washing over you so forcefully that your arms give out below you, sending you tumbling into the sheets. His hands hold you up as he continues to fuck you through it, curses and praise falling from his swollen pink lips. 

As if your bliss fueled his own, you feel him pull your hips back firmly against him, a groan exploding from his chest once he can’t hold on any longer. You feel his cock twitching, his release beginning to spill inside of you as your name falls from his lips. You clench around him and he rapidly pulls out of you, fisting his cock as his cum continues to spill, painting hot white streams across your back. 

The room is quiet, just the sounds of the two of you attempting to catch your breath. His hand slides up over the curve of your ass, his fingertips catching a drip of his cum before it falls to the sheets below you. His hand reaches around smearing his fingers across your lips, and you can hear him snickering as he leaves his release behind. “A much better shade on you, darling.”

With a smack of your ass you feel him step off of the bed, padding towards the bathroom. “Stay there, don’t move. I don’t want a mess on the sheets.”

You stay put, frozen as you lean down on your elbows and rest your chin in your palm. He comes back out of the bathroom a moment later in his robe and saunters to the stairs. You hear his footsteps slowly descending the steps, the occasional squeak indicating how far away he is. 

You figure he’s heading to get you a towel from the dryer, so you just sigh and bide your time, feeling the wetness on your back start to get a little cold as the air moves through the room. In the silence, you hear a cabinet opening… then a cup being placed on the counter. Your lips part in shock as you realize he’s downstairs making a drink while he leaves you here, messy and exposed. The cherry on top of the punishment he’s dealt you this evening.

It’s a good, long while before he comes back up the stairs, again, at a leisurely pace. He softly pads across the room, then steps into your line of sight, putting a mug down on the nightstand. He made himself a cup of tea? 

You sigh, looking at him flatly, a little tired of the game at this point. He steps into the bathroom again, this time reemerging with a warm, wet towel. He approaches the bed and kneels over you, gently wiping you clean as silence settles over you both.

“I made you some tea. In case I was a little rough on your throat.” he says quietly. “I figured I owe you a drink after throwing yours into the bushes.” His tone conveys that he’s remorseful, his voice back to its unique, charming timbre. “Listen, I didn’t mean to get so… worked up. You were right when you said I was threatened by Sam, and I just kind of lost control.” 

You hum softly, resting your head on the pillow and looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes soft and tired.

“I’m sorry I pushed you that far…” you say quietly, your voice hoarse. He tosses the towel towards the hamper, standing from the bed. He leans down and places a kiss to your temple as you lay all the way down, just as your back starts to hurt.

You hear him opening your dresser drawer and soon enough he’s back at your side, placing a set of silky, cream colored pajamas and a pair of underwear near your head. He kneels at your bedside, resting his head on the bed to look at you where you lay.

“I picked these out for you when we were in Glasgow. There was this little boutique near the hotel that caught my eye. It was after dinner one night and I tried to call you but the time difference was making a mess of things…I couldn’t get ahold of you and I was just feeling lonely… so I took a walk and decided to pop in. I saw them and thought of you immediately. Thought of how they’d feel when I got back home and in bed with you.” he confesses, petting your hair the whole time he speaks. There’s almost a sadness to this story that makes guilt bubble up in your chest. You accused him of never calling, rarely thinking of you, and sending his assistant off to buy you meaningless gifts. The thought of him hand picking it for you while he was feeling lonely thousands of miles away breaks your heart.  

“I’m sorry I said all that stuff. About the gifts. That was admittedly pretty awful of me.” you squeak out, feeling ashamed of the way you acted and who you painted him to be. “I’ve been really hard on you.”

“Hard on me?” he asks, a breathy laugh rumbling through him.

“I just… I haven’t been really considerate about your ear and the stress you’re under and I think I’ve been feeling neglected in a way, so instead of trying to fix it, it was just easier to put all of the blame on you and lose sight of the sacrifices you make for me every day. For us.” 

He shakes his head, unwilling to let you accept all the blame. “I haven’t exactly made things easy on you…” he says, his voice a little small. “I think–no, I know I can do more. I will do more. I fucked up yesterday baby, and I’m sorry. I should have planned something nice. You deserve that. And I’m sorry about tonight, fuck, I’m just sorry for all of it. I love you and I need you and I’m just really, really sorry.”

He stands from his place on the side of the bed, watching you as you slide into your silky pajamas. He tosses his robe to your vanity chair and joins you on the other side of the bed, pulling back the linen sheets and sliding in next to you. 

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I was a brat, and I’m sorry I used Sam to get under your skin. I just– I wanted your attention…and I know it was stupid and immature… I just needed to know you still cared, even just a little bit. I wanted to see it.” you pause, looking into his dark brown eyes. 

“And last night, you just wanted a night in and I was…less than agreeable. I wish we could do it over. You just wanted your comfort food and your favorite movie, home alone with me…but I couldn’t see that. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re doing your best and I’m sorry I was ungrateful. I’m happy that you were even home. I’m happy I can take care of you while you’re here.” you say, moving closer to him in the middle of the bed. “I missed you last night…”

He props himself up on his elbow, his cheeks still a little pink from earlier, and in the dim light of the lamp he is glowing. “I missed you too baby, I knew I fucked up before I even got out of the room. I should have never said that to you. Not ever. Can you forgive me?” he asks, letting his free hand slide across the sheets and grab yours. 

“Can you forgive me?” you ask, letting your glassy eyes meet his.

“Baby…” the word is a breath from his lips. You reach for him as he wraps his arms around you. You cradle his head in the crook of your neck as he breathes you in and you know all is forgiven between the two of you. You scratch his scalp and pet his velvety shaved sides, holding him close enough that you can feel his heart beating. 

“Can I make you that soup you like tomorrow? With the kale and the carrots…” you ask, a whisper against his temple. You feel him nod, a small hum leaving his chest. 

“And I still have that sourdough starter that Jake gave us… I can make some bread with it? Does that sound good?” you ask, feeling his grip on you tighten. 

“Oh my god, that starter. Have you been feeding it like he said!? I completely forgot!” he gasps.

You laugh hard enough that it shakes your chest, “Of course I have. He would be so sad if I let it die.”

You feel his body relax against you again, “Do you know how much I love you?” he asks, turning his head to face you. 

You feel your skin blush as he looks at you, his eyes full of adoration. “A lot?”

“More than that.” he smiles, his cheek dimple peeking out just a touch. You can hardly stop yourself from pressing your lips to it, your favorite thing. 

“I love you, alot.” you reply, peppering his face with kisses. 

“But there is something that I want to talk to you about…” he says, his voice growing a little more serious. 

“W-what?” you ask nervously, pulling away just a little. 

“I know you’ve been so excited about coming to Spain in a few weeks…And I’ve really been looking forward to it too…” he starts, and you feel your heart drop. Is it canceled? Does he not want you to come?

“Yeah…” you breathe, anxious to hear what he’s about to say.

“So, you know it’s been a long time since we’ve toured over there, and our normal coordinator isn’t able to make it, so we are using a secondary coordinator…It really throws a wrench into everything. Things are going to be really shaky those first few days with the jet lag and all of that. I just– I know that it’s gonna be super crazy, and I feel like we probably won’t be able to spend much time together while we get the tour stuff sorted out.” he pauses, and you feel your eyes well with tears. “I just don’t want you to come and feel ignored...”

“So I’m not–” 

His face softens as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, “So, I went ahead and booked us flights to go a whole week early, just me and you. Found us a quiet little place on the water right outside of Barcelona. It has a big open porch and a giant bed. It’s so beautiful and I know you’re going to love it. We can do whatever you want, just you and I.” He kisses your forehead before he continues. 

“And before you ask, yes, your boss already knows. I wanted to surprise you when we left, but I figured you would be suspicious that the rest of the guys wouldn’t be with us in the airport. I was planning to tell you tonight when we got home, but we saw what happened…” he smiles, his eyes positively sparkling. “So, how does that sound, my love? Will you come with me?”

Tears rush to your eyes. You were so prepared to be disappointed again that they were already on their way and this sealed the deal.

“That sounds so perfect,” you manage to squeak out as he wipes away an errant tear sliding down towards your pillow. When he pulls you in for a tender kiss, you can feel him smiling against your lips. “My coworkers are going to kill me for going on a two week vacation during tax season…”

“I’m sure they’ll be okay.” he says, brushing it off with a soft laugh. “They probably ate your strawberries yesterday, so you can call it even.” You suck your teeth at that, lips parting in shock.

“They better not have! I’m out for one day and the wolves descend?”

“I’m sure they’ll be there waiting for you Monday.” He soothes, pulling the sheets and comforter up higher over the both of you, pulling you in close as his little spoon. “But just in case… Maybe we can get some melting chocolate at the store tomorrow and make our own for dessert?” he mumbles softly. 

“Oh, I’d love that…” you say, pleasantly surprised at his effort already. He holds you tight, nuzzling into your hair. His hands are soft and warm as they sneak up under the silky pajamas, a comforting touch after so many nights spent in this bed alone.

“It’s a date, my love.” 

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[greynatomy]

where were you in the morning - three

alessia russo x reader

previous - next

———

Your mood instantly dropped. The girl, who you knew only by her name, disappeared. You thought - no - you knew she was special. That connection you felt with her was something you couldn’t just forget.

Rubbing a hand over your face, you swing your legs over to the side of the bed, sitting up. Taking a deep breath, you look around the room. The floor that was once littered with clothes that weren’t yours are found bare - bar the clothes belonging to you.

With a groan, you get up from the bed and walk to your closet, quickly putting on some boxers and a hoodie. Walking out of the room, any traces of Alessia is nowhere to be found.

You were in over your head. Completely clueless on how you managed to scare the girl away.

“Fuck!” You yelled out in frustration, but not loud enough for the people in the rooms next to you could hear.

Opening up the living room curtains, you grab your guitar from the corner of the room. Sitting on the couch, guitar in hand, you space out a bit, trying and failing to get the girl off your mind.

Playing a bit with a melody, one stuck to you, recording it on your phone.

“I look around and you’re not there? No, no.” You scribble in the little notepad hotels give out. “I look around but I don’t see you. Yeah, that’s good. Where were you in the morning? I didn’t get your number. Left without, uh, left without a warning.”

You place your phone on the side of the couch, angling it towards you and press record. You start playing the melody and singing all the lyrics you have.

—

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—

Two hours later, you pretty much had most of the song finished and ready to go into the studio. The sound of your phone ringing breaks you out of your zone.

“Y/LN.” You answer

“Have you seen the articles?” You recognize the voice of your manager.

“What articles?” Getting off the couch, you stand by the window, looking out.

“So many speculations on who you’re dating.” Alina points out.

“Which is nothing new.”

“That’s true.” It’s silent for a bit. “Any NDA’s I need someone to sign?”

“No, no. Uh, she left before I woke up, so it’d be no use. Just wish I knew more than her name.”

“So you don’t know who she is?”

“Nope.”

“What happens when she leaks it out there that she spent the night with you?” You could hear your manager getting antsy.

“I doubt she will, but if she does, maybe I could see her again soon.”

“You want to see her again?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? You don’t even know her?” Alina exclaims, thinking you’re out of your mind.

“Well, I wanna get to know her! She’s been all I could think about since I woke up. All I could write about.”

“Then, maybe you should just keep writing. And maybe she’d already realized the snippet you posted is about her.”

“I don’t even know if she knew who I was.”

“She’d have to be living under a rock to not know who you are.”

“We talked about getting breakfast last night, get to know each other more.”

“All you can do right now is be patient and hope she reaches out.”

“Yeah, I hope she does.”

[hobie-enthusiast]

LOVE MY LOVE !

— hobie brown x gn!reader + specified reader hcs

— tons of fluff, hobie being ur bf hcs, mentions of injury and blood, petnames, hobie being so hopelessly in love, specific hcs at the end for transmasc, cultural, and dyed hair reader, plus one for bad parents

— some classic hcs for hobie being in a relationship with you

— i have a small section on hobie’s hair, so if any info about his wicks is wrong, pls feel free to correct me! also the last 4 hcs are “if you are/have” kind of scenarios but everything before that is for everyone!

— starting off strong he definitely writes songs about you. he keeps his whole punk scene with his band, but these songs are written to himself. he keeps them in a notebook, with random lyrics scribbled in and chords to match them. his songwriting process is messier than most, so sometimes you can barely understand the order of the music or how it sounds. but this works in his favour; because then he’ll play it for you, gauging for your reaction and maybe that embarrassment you may show when he pours out his feelings.

— i mentioned this one in two fics before but i will do it again; he’s so for matching stickers and pins. both of your interests are smacked on his clothes, guitar, and whatever you chose to sport them on. he doesn’t care if they clash with his “punk persona”, after all, being punk means not conforming to societal expectations. so yeah matching stuff is definitely a thing for him. he’ll also match bracelets and rings with you if you’re down for that

— he is such a petnames person. his faves to use on you are sweetheart, darling, love, when it comes to the standard ones (with those he varies between throwing in a “my” in front of it and not just depends). he also likes referring to you as his “partner in crime” and “his/my star” (since he insists he doesn’t like labels ofc). he would also really like if you use petnames on him, or even a nickname. if you ever call him using “hobie”, he knows you’re upset and will fix things. now, if you call him “hobart”.. he’s running.

— okay please please hear me out on this; he’s such a flower boy. loves getting and giving flowers. picking them while he’s out swinging just to bring them back to you is one of his main love languages. and he loves receiving them back. please give him flowers please. surprise him with them. put them in his hair. FLOWER CROWNS TOO FLOWER CROWNS! he just loves flowers, all kinds of flowers.

— his love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. he loves being in contact with you. hobie loves holding your hand, putting his hand on the small of your back, or patting your head. but his all time favourite? intertwining fingers. he loves the small and intimate feeling it provides, as well as comfort. hobie will praise you a ton. always congratulating you, telling you how amazing you are, that sort of thing

— hobie is very protective of the things he loves, including you. he would never take it lightly if say one of his enemies threatened him with you. he tries his best to keep you out of his spider-man work, but sometimes that just doesn’t happen. but trust, he will pull out all the stops to protect you. if you’re threatened, he’s with you 24/7, eyes always watching for the enemy who had the audacity to say they were going to hurt you

— he’s actually so smitten about you it’s insane. will never stop talking about you and how you make him feel. he loves it. loves seeing the way his friends roll their eyes whenever he says “s’ [Name] said-”. everyone who knows him knows he’s crazy about you. there was a time where he felt so alone in his life, but now that he has you, he remembers he isn’t alone. he remembers what he’s fighting for after your pep-talks to him whenever he feels down. you’re his pick-me-up, so ofc he’s gonna brag about you to his friends.

— hobie hates making you his “guy-in-the-chair.” ofc he’s hella grateful for you helping and supporting his cause, fighting for what’s right. but, one of the parts of that is fixing him up when he’s hurt. he hates seeing your face so worried when he swings into your window, blood pooling at his side as you grab a first aid kit. hobie never wants you to worry, he feels terribly bad about it. but he forever appreciates how you always help him, always welcome him home, always manage to make him feel better

— hobie brown said it himself; he is not a morning person. he gets up everyday like after 10, and so he likes to have you in bed when he wakes up. on the weekends, he’ll beg you to stay in bed and sleep more, holding your body close to him and coaxing you with soft neck kisses and raspy whispers (his morning voice btw its gotta be- oh my god). on the days he does manage to keep you to himself, he wakes up in a better mood with a small pep in his step a good amount of the day

— okay so his hair. he’s very very picky on who touches his hair. i wanna say that he would trust you to touch it, but it would take a while. the way hobie grew up and has ideals that makes it kinda hard to trust people. so it truly does take a while. but once he starts trusting you, he realizes how much he loves when you take care of his hair. he loves feeling your fingers mess with his wicks, combing at his scalp. i wrote a whole fic about this but he also loves when you decorate his hair, especially flowers (fic found here!). and once he truly trusts you, he’ll ask for your help when he washes his hair, since it could be time consuming.

— okay so politics and ideals; it’s very important to hobie you hold the same beliefs as him. i really can’t see him with someone who won’t fight and protest like he does tbh. because he needs that support. sometimes things like that just don’t go right, so he wants his partner there next to him to help him fight for what’s right and what they deserve. this is really important to him, hence why i just can’t see him with someone who won’t support him like that. so yea definitely gotta agree like that, and fight for the cause with him

— THIS ONES FOR ALL MY FELLOW TRANS BOYS ive been needing some of this. okay he takes no shit from anyone about your identity or his own. he’s very supportive of you and anything you need. no surgery and no t? he’ll help you bind and assures you you don’t have to conform to any trans agenda anyone sets for you. if you got surgery, he’s constantly helping you, making sure you take care of yourself afterwards. his favourite affirmations are “you’re so handsome.” and “you’re my pre’ty boy, y’know that?” god he’s so-

— now this one is for all my fellow cultural people. he would love to be taught all about your culture. make the food for him. show him the traditional clothing. tell him the history. he wants to know it all! hobie fights everyday for minorities who aren’t heard, and he always wants to know more about who he’s fighting for. he genuinely finds this stuff interesting, especially considering the different types of people he met during his youth. so please, immerse him in that side of you! he’s all ears!

— here’s one for my homies with bad parents (we matchin fr i see you). oh man hobie will not let your parents treat you like that, ever. if he sees them, it’s not good for them. he’s going to ensure you know that you never deserved that treatment from your own parents. he reminds you that you deserve love and affection, and he will be the one to give that to you. he’s very good at helping you through anything you need, with affirmations and his physical presence, he will always remind you that you are safe and that your parents truly are a joke

— this one for all my fellow dyed hair besties. hobie is so down to help you dye your hair 1000%. get the supplies and invite him over and he’s going go help you out. and trust, he knows what he’s doing. i feel like hobie definitely experimented with his own hair in the past, which includes having crazy colours. so he’s got your back, and will also recommend any colour he thinks is gonna look absolutely sick on you

[ladylilith]

(Play the song when the orange letter appears or just have it in the loop while you read)

Paper Moon

9:07 p.m.

Fifth day without hearing from him.

Since your last argument, silence had settled between you two, impenetrable. Neither of you dared to break it.

You couldn’t even remember how you got to that point. You never argued... at least, not until now.

It all started when you went to his room, needing to rid yourself of the lump in your throat. Another disappointment in love. Another failed attempt at connecting with someone.

You were exhausted from stumbling around, searching for someone who made you feel understood and loved. Was it really that complicated? Everyone else seemed to have found it, except you.

Although, deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. You had found it... it just wasn’t mutual.

“Don’t you think you should take a break? Stop meeting new people?” he said as he hugged you.

But this time, he seemed tired of the cycle you were trapped in.

“If I stop, I’ll never move forward,” you replied, feeling yourself spiral deeper into negativity.

You had never told Chan how you felt about him. Your friendship meant too much to risk it over feelings you knew weren’t mutual.

“Move forward from what? What’s holding you back?” he asked, his tone harder than usual.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you answered, tired of feeling this way.

Chan must have taken that last comment badly. After that, he dropped you off at home, and you hadn’t heard from him since that day.

Until now.

You entered the JYP building with a bag of food and drinks, showed your ID, and headed up in the elevator. Your hands trembled with uncertainty as you pressed the button for the studio, hoping, as always, that you’d find him there.

Stepping out of the elevator, you saw a sliver of light escaping from under the door. You took a deep breath, relieved that you hadn’t been mistaken.

Carefully, you opened the door without making a sound, hearing the melody of a guitar you didn’t recognize, accompanied by Chan’s voice.

We were talking in the dark skies

About how people change

You told me that you’ve never found a love

That stayed the same

Quietly, you placed the bag of food on the table next to the sofa and turned your attention to the figure inside the booth, focusing on the lyrics of the song.

You asked me what I was thinking

What I was holding in

I told you that I never wanted to end up like they did

A shiver ran down your spine, and you realized just how much you had missed his voice.

They say looking in the stars when they last saw the moon

Well that’s just a little too far or a little untrue

I hope it’s enough, it’s the best I can do

I can’t reach the real one so I’ll make you

A paper moon

A paper moon? Was he singing about your last conversation?

“Am I asking for too much? I don’t need someone to give me the moon, just someone I can trust,” you had said through tears.

"You deserve the whole universe,” Chan replied, kissing your forehead.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you approached the door to the booth, feeling your heart race with every step.

Chan noticed your presence and looked in your direction, surprised, as he took off his headphones, the melody still playing in the background.

“Uh-hey, what are you doing here? Did something happen?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“I came because we haven’t talked in days,” you replied, your hands tingling with the urge to reach out to him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been a bit busy lately,” he said, glancing at the sheet full of scribbles in front of him.

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” you asked, taking a step closer.

Chan gripped the stand beside him, and you noticed how his hands trembled slightly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked, avoiding your gaze.

“I miss you, Chan,” you said, taking another step forward.

“I’m right here,” he replied, this time meeting your eyes.

“I know, you always are, always,” you said, looking down and smiling. “Is the song new?” you asked, trying to read the scribbles on the paper.

Chan looked at the sheet in front of him, and you noticed doubt flicker in his eyes.

“Yes… well, it’s something I’m working on.”

“Can I listen to it?” you asked nervously, afraid he might say no.

“Sure, go outside and play the track again.”

You walked out to the room with his computer, sat down in front of it, and pressed the button to play the track again.

You listened intently to the part of the song he was singing when you arrived, absorbing every detail of the lyrics.

You can hang it on your ceiling

Or keep it by the door

I know it doesn’t shine as bright at night

But it’s all yours

Your heart ached as you thought about how the lyrics mirrored your feelings for him, how he had always had your heart, to do with it as he pleased.

I promise that I’ll love you

And it’s a promise I can keep

I hope you always feel the most at home

When you’re with me

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought about how he had always been your refuge, the place you went to when the world felt like too much.

The song continued until the last notes played out.

Chan left the recording booth and approached your table. You watched him as he slowly walked toward you, trying to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

"Are you okay?” he asked, crouching down to be at your level. “I guess you liked it,” he added, trying to dry your cheeks with his hands.

“What were you thinking about when you wrote it?”you whispered, your voice breaking.

“Our last conversation,” he said, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It kills me to think you feel like you don’t deserve someone to give you the moon just because you ask for it,” he sighed. “You deserve that and so much more.”

You looked into Chan’s eyes, finding a gaze filled with everything you had been feeling for years.

Without fear of what might happen after saying the words, you decided to be honest, ready to risk everything.

“I think I already have someone who would do that for me,” you said, looking directly into his eyes. “And for whom I’d do the same.”

Chan stared at you, absorbing the weight of your words.

You felt his hand gently caress your cheek, slowly tracing the line of your jaw.

You leaned closer to him, feeling his breath against yours.

“Chan…” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. “It’s always been you,” you said, raising your trembling hand to his neck, feeling his pulse quicken with every touch.

“I thought you didn’t feel the same, that I could never have you, and that I’d have to settle for watching you from afar,” he said, his voice filled with sadness. “Our last conversation made me decide to distance myself, afraid I couldn’t hold it back any longer.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the dampness left by his tears.

“I was just trying to find someone to help me get over the fact that you would never feel the same,” you said, sighing. “I’m sorry for hurting you, Chan…”

“Don’t be,” he said, and you watched a smile form on his face. “I’m just glad you didn’t find them.”

“I did, you were always by my side.”