#i love the street lights reflecting on the wet street

[ippokampos]

didn't think i'd say it but i love november gloom so much🍂☕

[ohproserpine]

vi. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder, heated scene (making out)

˚୨୧₊♱

You never really liked cars.

The first time you had ridden in one was in the 1930s.

It was after one of your shifts, the wet streets illuminated only by the flickering glow of the rusting lampposts. There you stood, still in your glad rags and wrapped in a coat, the misty drizzle kissing your face. Alastor arrived a few minutes later with a honk of his horn, surprising you with a ride home in his latest purchase—a stunning red car with a sleek roof that gleamed in the dim light, its long, sweeping fenders and rounded body cutting a striking figure against the darkness of the night.

As you got into the car, excitement tingled in your veins, eager to experience the wonders of modern transportation. However, the thrill quickly turned to fear as the speeds increased, and your husband, the ass he was, seemed to enjoy nothing more than pushing the accelerator and hearing your horrified screams. Each time the car accelerated, you found yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rush of wind slamming against your flushed face, your heart racing in your chest.

Since then, you swore never to get into a car again, preferring the safety of solid ground beneath your feet, the memory of that terrifying ride haunting your thoughts whenever you heard the roar of an engine.

Now, standing outside and shivering in the cold, you watched as a long royal blue limo pulled up before you. The sleek vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding city. The doors, adorned with gold accents, were automated and opened up for you, revealing a plush interior illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Small steps extended gracefully from below, inviting you to step inside.

Velvette wasted no time and went in first, her stiletto heels clicking against the polished floor as she settled into one of the luxurious seats. Already engrossed in a phone call, her voice echoed faintly through the open doorway, mingling with the low hum of the engine.

Meanwhile, Vox stood by your side, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the pavement. You knew he was making sure you wouldn't attempt to escape, although the thought barely crossed your mind.

After all, where could you possibly run to now? Any endeavor in that direction would likely prove futile and possibly even fatal. The evidence of your soul being sold was clear, evident in the now black color of your sclera.

"Well," Vox drawled, his voice carrying a subtle edge of impatience as he gestured towards the open limousine door. "Aren't you going to go in?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you reluctantly took a step back. Vox eyed your actions warily.

"Is it safe?" you found yourself blurting out, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Is it safe?" Vox repeated with a scoff, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Of course it's safe! I made it!"

He pointed to the VoxTek logo on the car—as though he were a seasoned salesman promoting a product. The metal emblem gleamed under the faint streetlights. Yet, rather than assuring you, the sight of the branding only heightened your unease.

Vox noticed the lack of change in your expression and sighed, deciding to take a different approach. With a faint glimmer of empathy, he motioned toward a nearby building which had a large billboard featuring his face and image.

"See there?" he gestured, his tone adopting a persuasive edge. "See what that billboard says? VoxTek is a symbol of power and security. You're in the safest hands possible. This limousine is equipped with state-of-the-art safety features."

His attempt to reassure you only rang hollow in your ears, and despite his words, a sense of unease continued to gnaw at you. Yet, Vox still persisted, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you. You had to crane your head up to look at him while he stared down at you, his figure casting a shadow over your form.

"I assure you," he pressed, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to fear."

With no other choice but to comply, you reluctantly stepped forward, your movements stiff and hesitant. Vox held your hand as he guided you towards the waiting limousine. As you entered the luxurious interior, the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing your fate as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.

Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the limousine sped through the streets. With each passing moment, the distance between you and Mimzy's torn-down lounge grew.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when the limousine finally came to a stop, the sudden silence jolting you back to reality. As the door opened with a soft hiss, you gazed out to behold the imposing V Tower looming before you.

Its grandeur was undeniable, with its towering floors and striking red windows gleaming in the night. At the very top, a massive antenna sat, reaching towards the sky like a beacon, while a studio sign was plastered along the building's front, featuring red lips nestled within the arches of the middle V, an iconic symbol of the entertainment empire housed within.

Vox and Velvette emerged from the limousine, their presence causing a few loiterers on the street to scurry away in fear.

Oh, how you wished you could do the same.

Inside the car, you hesitated, nerves coiling in your stomach as you fidgeted with your hands. Then, unexpectedly, Vox turned to you, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand.

Surprised, you paused for a moment before accepting his hand, allowing him to guide you down the steps. The chilly night air enveloped you as your feet touched the pavement, the distant sound of the limo's engine fading away as it drove off.

Seconds passed, and Vox still maintained his grip on your hand, his hold firm. Confusion flickered in your mind as you turned to him, noticing the irritation in his gaze as he eyed your wedding ring.

"Is there a problem, mister?" you asked as you followed his gaze to your ring.

Vox's expression remained inscrutable for a moment before he finally responded, his tone cool and detached.

"I suggest you ditch that," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a liability now. Doesn't do any favors for your image, doll."

"But I'm awfully attached. It's…" you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find a good enough excuse.

You knew all too well the consequences of revealing your connection, especially in your current vulnerable state. The mere mention of Alastor's name could unravel everything, plunging you deeper into this mess. With two powerful overlords and a soul contract hanging over your head like a guillotine, caution was not just a choice but a necessity.

"It's a symbol of your past life," Vox interjected, his voice cutting through your hesitation.

"And we're leaving that behind now." He extended his hand, the glint of his metal claws catching the dim light, mirroring the uncertainty in your expression. "Hand it over."

With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly slipped the ring off your finger, a pang of loss gripping your heart as you handed it to the overlord. Vox accepted it with a dismissive nod before tucking it into his pocket, his attention already turning back to the looming entrance of the V Tower.

As you entered the building flanked by both Vox and Velvette, you were immediately struck by the brash, modern atmosphere that engulfed you. The walls were painted in bold hues of pink and red, illuminated by the glare of oversized LED screens that flashed with images and advertisements for upcoming events. The floor beneath your feet was polished to a sterile sheen, reflecting the harsh neon lights that bathed the space.

Velvette, with her usual air of haughty superiority, led the way to your room, her steps brisk and impatient. She barely spared you a glance as she gestured towards the metal door that stood before you, its surface cold and unwelcoming.

With a swish of her fingers, she conjured an obtrusively bright star decoration on the wall, reminiscent of celebrity door decorations found in Hollywood, with your name scrawled in cursive on its surface.

"Right, if there's anything you need, you just go down to the lobby and find someone named Shalom," Velvette barked, her tone sharp and impatient, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Say, is there a chance I could lay my mitts on a radio?" you asked, hoping to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity in this alien environment, your eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.

But instead of a response, Vox began to buffer, his screen flashing with bright neon glitches, while Velvette's lips curled into a sneer, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt and amusement at your request.

"Guess I'll take that as a no then?" you smiled tensely, your attempt falling flat.

To your surprise, Vox shook his head, and his screen flashed back to his face, the glitches disappearing as quickly as they had come.

The TV demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone. Without a word, he plopped it into your hand, and you turned it over, confusion evident on your face.

"A phone?" you said, flabbergasted, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. You blinked in astonishment, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. You were more surprised by the fact that it came from his pocket. Does he keep random smartphones on him at all times?

"Yes, a phone," Vox confirmed with a smirk, a hint of pride dancing in his eyes. "Consider it a courtesy from VoxTek. No need for a radio when we have such sleek products. This is the future! You don't need old shit from the past. Those radios barely pick up anything worth listening to, just crappy, barely audible broadcasts."

"Oh," you said, the air deflating from your lungs as a pang of disappointment settled in your chest. The phone was a thoughtful gesture, but it wasn't going to fix your longing to speak to Alastor. "Well. I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't mention it," Vox replied casually, his demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness, his tone devoid of any genuine warmth or concern.

With a resigned sigh, you turned and stepped into your new room. You looked around the décor curiously, taking in the sleek modern furniture and it's peculiar design.

Velvette followed closely behind you, her eyes, framed with smoky eyeshadow, narrowing as she regarded you with disgust. The glint of her perfectly manicured nails caught the harsh overhead lights as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Really? A hooverette dress?" Velvette sneered, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You're like a relic from the '40s. Outdated."

You felt a surge of anger at the comment. Sure, you died near the 1940s, but that didn't mean you were outdated. Before you could even muster a response, Velvette raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, she effortlessly transformed the fabric of your dress. It rippled and shifted, morphing before your eyes into a pink silk pajama robe, trimmed with a cream-colored fur. She stepped back, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she admired her handiwork.

"Much better," she declared with a clap. "Listen, you're representing VoxTek now. Even when sleeping, we can't have you looking like a washed-up has-been, can we?"

Swallowing your pride, you forced a tight-lipped nod, suppressing the urge to lash out in defiance.

"Yes, ma'am," you managed to grit out, your voice strained. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've got a lot of work to do, and you've got a long way to go before I can get you stage ready."

With that, Velvette stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each brisk step. As she disappeared from view, Vox leaned in, his shadow casting a long silhouette against the wall. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gliding over the cool metal.

"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning. With a gentle pull, he closed the door with a thud, sealing you in with your thoughts and fears. The latch clicked shut, and you were left alone, enveloped in the eerie silence of the unfamiliar space.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to survey your room even closer.

Your eyes swept over the tall walls adorned with abstract artwork, bursts of vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the subdued hues of the furniture. The wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, with skyscrapers twinkling in the distance like distant constellations.

Approaching the plush king-sized bed, you sank into its cloud-like mattress, feeling its comforting embrace envelop you. It was definitely an improvement from Mimzy's lounge. And yet, despite the luxurious trappings, a sense of confinement lingered. After all, a gilded cage remains a cage.

As you assessed your situation, it became clear that you were going to be the star attraction in Velvette's upcoming fashion extravaganza. Her shows were always a hit, and this year's circus-themed spectacle had her buzzing with excitement. The lead model was a singer-actress you'd heard of; you'd seen her the day Mimzy dragged her into the lounge. Pity the poor girl died.

Given the circus motif, it was apparent why Velvette had chosen you. Your background as a singer, coupled with your doll-like appearance, made you the perfect fit for the role.

The best course of action now was to play it safe. Going along with her plan was sure to draw attention, from the lowest imps to Lucifer Morningstar himself. Your face was bound to be plastered on every screen in the infernal realm, broadcasted to demons and damned souls alike. Even with his hatred for the picture shows, Alastor would have to be both blind and deaf to miss this.

He would come for you, you knew it deep in your bones, and yet a pessimistic voice in the back of your head whispered doubts.

Did you even deserve to be taken back after all of this?

With these thoughts weighing heavily on your mind like an anchor dragging you into the depths, you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind your lids. But sleep remained elusive, evading your grasp.

As the night wore on, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy fog, its tendrils enveloping you in a suffocating embrace. Despite the turmoil raging within, your body succumbed to weariness, and gradually, you slipped into your dreams.

˚୨୧₊♱

Both you and Alastor embarked on a slow journey through the darkened streets of Louisiana, the car's headlights cutting through the enveloping gloom like beacons. Carefully navigating the labyrinthine city, you avoided the occasional patrol car with its blinding flashlights, skirting through shadowed alleys and side streets to evade detection.

Finally reaching the outskirts of town, where the forest awaited, Alastor brought the car to a halt, the engine's low hum fading into silence. Turning to you, he noticed the fear etched on your face, your wide eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

With a tender touch, Alastor took your face in his hands, calling for you. "Cher?"

You turned to him, your lips parting slightly as tears welled in your eyes. Alastor's touch was feather-light as his fingertips traced a delicate path along the curve of your cheek. With a gentle brush of his thumb, he coaxed your eyelids closed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving a trail in their wake. As you blinked your eyes open again, you were met with the tender press of his lips against yours.

"We did what we had to do," Alastor murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin.

With his eyes closed, he leaned in closer, his kiss growing more urgent, almost desperate. You responded in kind, the roughness of the kiss igniting a fire within you.

Feeling his fingers threading through the back of your hair, you whimpered and melted into his embrace, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his button-up shirt. Alastor groaned in response as he lifted you effortlessly from the passenger seat and settled you onto his lap. Your chest pressed flat against his, the rhythm of your heartbeat syncing with his own.

As the sky grew darker, the moon mingling with the fading hues of sunset, the wind whispered through the open windows of the car, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning.

Alastor eventually pulled away, his gaze lingering on your tousled hair and puffy lips as he leaned back in his seat, taking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing you in such a ruined state stirred something within him.

"Are you ready?" he asked. You nodded meekly in response, your heart racing.

Truth be told, you didn't think you could ever truly be ready for what you were about to do.

Your husband hummed in acknowledgment, allowing you to slip off his lap as he straightened his brown coat, the fabric rustling softly with each movement.

Guiding you out of the car, he then reached into the backseat, retrieving his hunting gun. The metallic click of the firearm being loaded echoed in the quiet night. And you damn near fainted when he handed it to you, the weight of it feeling heavier than you could bear. The metal surface was icy against your palm, and you fought the urge to recoil, but Alastor pressed it firmly into your hand, his touch reassuring yet commanding.

"You'll need this," Alastor spoke lowly, bending down to your height, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. "Use it for safety. There might be wild animals out."

You hesitated, the weight of the weapon heavy in your hand, but the urgency in his tone spurred you to nod in agreement.

"Do you remember when I taught you how to hunt?" he questioned, slipping on a pair of dark leather gloves he had pulled out of his pocket. His voice was low and smooth, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "You remember how to shoot, no?"

You nodded, eyes still glued to the gun, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Words, cher. Use your words."

"Yes, love," you whispered, finding your voice. Alastor smiled, the rough texture of his glove grazing gently against your cheek as he pressed his hand to your face one last time before stepping away.

Your husband made his way to the trunk of the car, the soft glow of the taillights casting long shadows across the forest floor. With strong pull, he opened it, revealing its contents. Your breath caught in your throat as he retrieved a shovel and a black body bag, the sight sending a sickening feeling through your stomach.

Alastor slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, his steps confident, as if he knew exactly where he was going. The weight of the bag seemed inconsequential to him, swinging lightly with each stride. There was an odd, almost unsettling look in his eyes as he whistled a tune, the sound echoing eerily through the silent woods. A glint of something primal and untamed flickered within their depths.

Nonetheless, you followed him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.

Trudging deeper, the shadows seemed to grow darker, more menacing. The silence pressed in on you from all sides, broken only by Alastor's whistling and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Each step felt like a descent into madness, the unknown lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight's beam.

Suddenly, Alastor halted in a secluded corner, where the trees were decaying, their long branches resembling gnarled fingers reaching out for you in the darkness. He turned to you, the dim light of your flashlight reflecting off his glasses, giving his brown eyes an otherworldly glint.

In that moment, illuminated by the pale beam, he looked almost demonic, his features twisted by the play of light and shadow.

"I'll be back shortly, cher," he hummed with a smile, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. You couldn't help but notice a darkened spot on his brown coat, the collar of his white button-up now stained with crimson. "Stay here."

With that, he disappeared into the darkness, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone amidst the looming trees.

Time stretched on endlessly, each minute feeling like an eternity as you stood alone. Faintly, you could hear the distant sound of Alastor's shovel breaking through the earth's surface, its metallic scrape and the muffled thud as it struck the soil sending another wave of nausea curling in your gut, each noise a grim reminder of the task at hand.

All you wanted was to escape, to return to the safety of your quaint house in the city.

More than anything, you longed to open a bottle of whiskey, to drown your fears and sorrows in its comforting embrace. Maybe have a second, or a third, and just forget.

Forget about all of this. Forget it all ever happened. But deep down, you knew that no amount of alcohol could erase the memories of tonight, each image now etched into your mind like scars on your soul.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound behind you sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins, followed by the distant but unmistakable bark of dogs. The sound seemed to come from all directions, surrounding you in a menacing chorus.

With a sharp gasp, you spun round and round in a whirl, your vision tunneling with fear as you scanned the darkness, eyes wide and frantic. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to magnify the sense of dread that gripped you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning in your lungs as you struggled to keep your composure.

And then, without warning, something lunged from the darkness, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing even faster. Instinct took over, and without thinking, you raised the gun and fired, the deafening sound reverberating through the silent forest.

You gasped for air, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you found yourself sitting on the damp, muddy ground. The recoil of the gun had sent you sprawling backward, leaving you disoriented and breathless.

With trembling hands, you clutched the gun closer to your chest, the cold metal providing a shaky sense of security in the darkness. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, a surge of determination propelled you forward, your muscles tensed and ready for whatever danger lay ahead. Scrambling to your feet, you pushed yourself onward.

Each step was punctuated by the crunch of underbrush beneath your boots, the sound amplifying in the stillness of the forest. Amidst the shadows and foliage, you caught a blur of brown, relief flooding through you like a wave crashing against the shore.

Oh, heavens, it was just a deer.

As you trudged towards the poor animal, your foot caught on a branch, and you stumbled, the unforgiving forest floor meeting your body with a painful thud. In the fall, your gun slipped from your grasp, skidding off into the shadows.

Wincing, you pushed yourself up to your knees, the earthy scent of decay mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You looked toward the fallen creature, its form now visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees. But as you crawled over, dread crept into your heart.

There, lying face down on the dirt, was Alastor, his once-immaculate brown coat now dirtied, blending seamlessly with mud. His glasses lay shattered and discarded in front of him, glinting faintly in the dim moonlight that danced across the forest floor. A pool of crimson blood seeped from his head, staining the earth beneath him.

Your eyes widened with renewed horror as the truth dawned upon you, and you fell onto your back, scrambling away from the corpse of your husband, the damp earth sticking to your palms as you clawed at the ground in your panic.

The bark of the dogs were louder now, closer. Ignoring the dizzy vertigo in your head, you pushed yourself to your feet, your senses on high alert.

You choked out a broken apology but found that you could not hear it, that you could not make any sound at all.

You breathed, it was all you could do, all you could manage at the moment, and with the terrible weight on your chest, even that was made difficult.

What have you done?

˚୨୧₊♱

"Salutations! It's Tom back on the airwaves! Hold onto your hats because we've got some news that'll knock your socks off! Alastor Caron, the big shot radio host and husband of underground singer Dolly, also known as Y/N Caron, has been found pushing up daisies out in the sticks of Louisiana!

That's right, folks, he's dead!

Word on the street is, ol' Alastor met our maker with a bullet to the head in what can only be described as a real tragic whodunit. Sources close to the case are whispering in the wind, suggesting that Dolly herself might be mixed up in this spicy little affair. The coppers found her fingerprints on the gun! Can you believe it?! Stay tuned as we peel back the curtain and spill the tea on this sto—"

You shut the radio off with a frustrated slam of your fist, the sound echoing through the desolate living room.

Eviction papers and newspapers, crumpled and worn from countless readings, are strewn haphazardly across the table.

"Gone Girl," "Husband-killer," "Missing Marionette," "A Doll's Vanishing Act," "Manhunt underway for Suspected Murderer," "Louisiana Radio Host dead; Wife blamed."

The headlines scream, each word a painful reminder of the nightmare engulfing your life.

Empty bottles litter around you, their contents spilled and forgotten, the sharp scent of alcohol mingling with the drowning feeling of grief that permeates the room. Sirens wail in the distance while red and blue lights dance along the walls, cast by the dim light filtering through tightly shut curtains.

As you reach for another bottle, the drinks blur into one another, their labels indistinguishable in the dark room. The burning sensation as the liquid courses down your throat offers temporary relief from the turmoil raging inside your mind, numbing the pain and grief threatening to consume you. Each sip takes you further into a haze.

The room spins around you, items warping and dancing in a twisted mockery of your predicament. There are whispers now, soft and insidious, slithering into your ears like serpents. You try to push away the accusing voices echoing in your mind, drowning them out with your bottle's numbing embrace. But with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations grows heavier, dragging you deeper into despair.

Nausea churns in the pit of your stomach, and you finally stop moving, the dizziness overwhelming you. A deathly coldness settles over you, seeping into your bones like icy tendrils, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers lose their grip on the bottle, and it crashes to the ground with a shattering sound that echoes in the stillness of the room, shards of glass scattering across the floor like stars falling from the sky. You follow suit, collapsing onto the floor, limbs heavy and muscles twitching.

You stare vacantly ahead, unable to move, your eyes glazed over with a hollow emptiness as a sense of dread washes over you, suffusing the air with an oppressive weight. Each breath feels like a battle, your chest tightening with every inhalation, as if your lungs were filled with water.

Your breaths grow more labored, each one shallower than the last, until they eventually cease altogether, leaving you gasping for air that refuses to come.

The world around you fades into darkness, the edges of your vision blurring as consciousness slips away, leaving you engulfed in a silence broken only by the faint echo of your last heartbeat.

˚୨୧₊♱

There was screaming.

Footsteps thudded along a path nearby, accompanied by the fluttering of wings as creatures soared overhead.

You awaken with a startle, disoriented and groggy.

Slowly sitting up, you find yourself surrounded by a crimson landscape, a pentagram shimmering ominously in the air above you. As you move, your hand sinks into something cold and wet, a sickening squelch accompanying the sensation.

Horror grips you as you realize your hand is touching a corpse, its monstrous form adorned with twisted horns, jagged tails, and rows of sharp teeth. The pair of lifeless eyes shift and stare into you, devoid of any trace of humanity.

Frozen with terror and panic, you scramble away from the grotesque sight, the ground slick with crimson ichor, each step leaving bloody handprints and footprints in your wake.

The evening light of this place reveals a grim environment surrounding you – a lumpy, uneven field of corpses and bones, a mass grave unlike any you've ever seen. But these corpses are not human; they are demonic, twisted and contorted in death.

Before you can even make sense of this grotesque scene, a spear slices through the air, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. With a thud, it embeds itself into the ground beside you. A sharp, stinging sensation follows as your cheeks burn, crimson liquid trailing down your skin.

Gasping for breath, you look up and catch sight of a figure soaring overhead, its massive wings spread wide against the crimson sky. Each beat sends a gust of wind rushing past you, whipping your hair around your face. The figure's single eye fixates on you, its gaze piercing through the darkness, the other obscured by a large 'X' mark.

Adrenaline surges through your veins as you run away, the cold sweat of fear prickling your skin.

Your surroundings blur into a chaotic whirlwind as you race through the labyrinthine alleys of Hell. With every stride, your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. Each footfall echoes in the narrow passageways, the walls closing in around you like a vice, but the chase of the angel behind you drives you forward, your muscles burning with exertion as you push yourself to your limits.

Suddenly, you're yanked to a stop, your body colliding with a stone floor as you're pulled into a hidden doorway. Pain shoots through your arm, and you wince, clutching it tightly against your chest. It throbs with a dull ache, bruised from the fall.

As you cautiously lift your gaze, you find yourself in a familiar setting—a speakeasy, though more rugged and rundown than you were used to. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Mismatched furniture and a barely held-together bar give the place a sense of makeshift charm.

"Well, look who it is."

The voice freezes you in place, and your eyes nervously move upward to see a familiar blonde woman before you, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, her eyes dark and intense.

"Mimzy?" you whisper, disbelief coloring your voice.

"It's me!" she cheers, swinging her legs and jazzing her arms up in the air. With a jump, she plops onto the ground, circling your hunched-over form with a mischievous grin. "How you doin', Dolly?"

"How?" your mind scrambles. "You-You…"

"I know! You thought I was dead?" she snickers before knocking you upside the head playfully. "Welcome to the afterlife, you ditz!"

"What?" you rasp, eyes frantically darting from her to your surroundings. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like that?!"

"Look what? Adorable~?" Mimzy hums and waltzes over to a gramophone, inserting a disk and starting a scratching melody that fills the speakeasy.

Hello, Dolly! Well, hello, Dolly! It's so nice to have you back where you belong~

"Come on, Dolly," Mimzy says, her voice low and melodic as she sways to the music. The bedazzled fringes of her dress sparkle in the dim light as she twirls, her heels dragging along the floorboards. "You haven't been living under a rock, have you? Or did'ja just arrive?"

You're lookin' swell, Dolly I can tell, Dolly You're still glowin', you're still crowin' You're still goin' strong

"I don't understand," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like a dream—a nightmare, more accurately. "Where am I? What's going on?"

"We're both dead," Mimzy chuckles, tapping her heels along to the beat.

We feel the room swayin' While the band's playin' One of your old favourite songs from way back when

"What do you mean?" you manage to croak out, the words barely audible over the music.

Mimzy pauses mid-twirl. "Oh, Dolly," she sighs, shaking her head. "Hell, darling. We're in Hell."

Your blood runs cold at her words, the reality of your situation sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest. The memories of that fateful night flood your mind, filling you with a sense of guilt and despair.

Before you can voice your thoughts, Mimzy grabs your hand and pulls you into a dance, the gramophone's melody swirling around you like a sinister lullaby.

"So, take her wrap, fellas," Mimzy sings along, her laughter echoing off the walls. Her eyes gleam with a mischievous light as she leads you through the steps of the choreography you once knew so well. She twirls you around and drops you into a dip. "Find her an empty lap, fellas!"

"Dolly'll never go away again~"

You feel a surge of frustration building within you, the absurdity of overwhelming your senses. With a shout of anger, you push Mimzy away, a scowl etched deep on your face. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her smile fading into a look of annoyance.

"Will you cut it out!" you snap, your voice echoing in the empty speakeasy. "Tell me what's going on!"

"Killjoy." Mimzy rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She moves over to the gramophone and turns it off, the melody abruptly silenced.

"I just told you what was going on, you doof!" Mimzy retorts, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The speakeasy falls into an uneasy silence, the air thick with tension, broken only by the faint sound of distant screams echoing outside the building. You gesture toward the source of the noise with a look of shock.

"Alright, I know well enough why I'm here, but what is that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"An extermination. Angels come here to rid of sinners and such," Mimzy shrugs, her expression nonchalant despite the gravity of her words.

"Well, what about Alastor?" you press, the worry evident in your voice.

Mimzy's expression darkens, a flicker of anger crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, you mean your darling husband? He's probably causing chaos somewhere, as usual. He'll be fine."

"I don't think he even knows you're here," she adds on with a yawn. "He probably thinks you're up in the shiny gates of heaven with his momma or something."

"Al knows I'm already dead?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yup!" Mimzy chirps, her grin widening. "Your death came out in the news months ago. But only Lord knows why it took 'em so long to get you through purgatory."

The barrage of new information leaves you dizzy, your head spinning with the implications. "Wait—my death? The news?"

Mimzy moves over to the bar, kneeling down the worn floorboards as she digs through the bottom drawers.

"Didja know there's this little killin' business in Hell? I.M.P.—the Immediate Murder Professionals. And there's this cute little fella named Blitzo who does deliveries for me. I was his first costumer and poor guy needs the extra money so—"

"Mimzy, why are you telling me this?" you interject, confusion evident in your tone.

Mimzy's grin widens as she peeks at you from over the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, sweetcheeks," she purrs, continuing to leaf through piles of paper, "if you paid attention to their name, they do murder. Murder in the human world, to be exact. And I hired them to go snuff you out!"

"But lo and behold, to my surprise," Mimzy continues, her tone laced with amusement, "you did their job for 'em! And this is what they brought back as proof."

With a flourish, Mimzy procures a newspaper from the depths of the cabident, her hands waving it around in excitement. She throws it to you, and you catch it, fumbling to see the headline. Your stomach churns as you take in the bold letters.

'LAST SWING: Speakeasy Star Suspected of Husband's Murder Dies in Alcohol Overdose.'

"Hi-larious!" Mimzy snorts as she presses a finger against the title, her expression gleeful. You hold the paper up, your hands trembling as you read through the article detailing your own death.

With a cackle, Mimzy jumps onto a nearby table, her movements lithe and energetic as she snatches the paper away from you.

"So, did'ja do it?" she taunts, leaning in close to your face with a devilish grin. "Didn't take you as the type. What was it? Poison? Housewife classic, I tell ya. Maybe a knife? Good ole push him down the stairs? Or was it a gun?"

You tense up at her last words, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Mimzy smirks, her snicker ringing out like a sinister melody. Curls bounce around her face as she leans in closer, her lips practically ghosting against your cut.

"You shot him?"

"I—" you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as you run a hand through your frazzled hair, the disheveled strands tangling under your trembling fingers. "I didn't mean to! Heavens. I thought he was a deer!"

At that, Mimzy bursts out in loud laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach, doubling over with mirth. The sound echoes off the grimy walls of the speakeasy.

"Is that right?" she wheezes between fits of laughter, slapping her knee while still shaking with amusement. "No wonder he looks like a deer! Oh! The irony!"

"Deer?" you whisper out in confusion, your mind struggling to grasp the implications of her words amidst the chaos of her laughter. She laughs even harder at your response, kicking her feet in the air with unrestrained glee.

After a few minutes, she finally calms down. With a skip in her step and a glint in her eyes, she saunters over to you. Humming a tune, Mimzy twirls around you again, her movements fluid and graceful despite her earlier outburst.

"I know something you don't know~" she sings.

"What do you mean?" you frown, your voice trembling as you gaze at her, searching for any hint of what she's hiding.

"All in good time. I've told you a lot already, didn't I?" Mimzy replies cryptically, her tone snappy. "Let's see—I graciously saved you from that angel that was ready to spill your guts out, I've given you a wonderful welcome, helped you learn about your death, and, well, you were involved in my murder. I'd say the scales aren't balanced! You owe me. A lot."

Guilt churns in your gut as you nervously wring your hands. "Mimzy, no words can express how much guilt I feel about your—"

"Oh, cut the weeping dame bullshit. I don't care about that," Mimzy interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. Her eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she leans in closer.

"I'm feeling generous today," she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "So, I'll make you a deal."

You eye her warily, the guilt in your gut twisting into a knot of apprehension. Despite your unease, you nod, silently urging her to continue, bracing yourself for whatever devil's bargain she has in store.

"In exchange for absolving your involvement in my murder and providing information on your husband," she whispers, her voice dripping with malice, "you'll owe me a favor. A big one. I want you to work for me again."

You tense, your mind racing as you process her proposition, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "What?"

Mimzy's smirk widens at your reaction, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she relishes in your discomfort. "That's right, sugar. I want you back on the job, working for me just like old times."

"Well I… I don't have much of a choice, do I?" you reply, clenching your fists in frustration.

Mimzy's laughter reverberates through the speakeasy, each chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

"Of course not! Would you prefer to go running to Alastor instead? Oh, dear hubby, please shield me from the consequences of my sins! My apologies for putting a bullet in your skull!" she mocks your voice, drawling the syllables out as she clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at you.

A surge of humiliation and guilt washes over you, weighing heavy on your shoulders as you struggle to come to terms with the choices before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Despite the overwhelming guilt and shame swirling within you, you know that you're cornered. Mimzy has you right where she wants you, and the only way out is to play her game.

"Fine," you say through gritted teeth, your voice tinged with resignation. "I'll work for you again."

Mimzy's grin widens, her sharp teeth flashed at you. "Excellent choice, darling. You won't regret it."

With a snap of her fingers, a contract materializes in her hand. She hands it over to you, and you read through it. Funnily enough, it looks almost identical to your previous employment contract in the living with her, but one detail catches your eye.

"To settle the debt incurred due to the aforementioned act, Y/N Caron, acknowledging the gravity of her transgressions, agrees to become a singer for Mimzy's Lounge for a duration of ten decades," you read the line in shock. Turning to Mimzy, you clutch the contract tightly, your nails threatening to break the paper. "Ten decades?!"

"What?" Mimzy scoffs, her voice dripping with derision. "You stuck here for all of eternity anyways, and so is your husband. Might as well do something."

With a theatrical flourish, Mimzy reaches into her chest and pulls out a pen, waggling it teasingly in your face. "So? What will it be? Are ya gonna sign the contract? Or am I gonna have to throw you out where those angels can tear you to pieces?"

You read through the contract again, your eyes frantically scanning the paper for any loophole or escape route, but you come up empty-handed. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you're in this for the long haul.

"But what about Alastor?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your voice.

Mimzy's laughter filled the speakeasy, bouncing off the walls like mocking echoes. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed with faux sympathy, "haven't you read the fine print? Your dear Alastor is strictly off-limits. Can't have him interfering with our little arrangement, now can we?"

"But… I need to see him," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

Mimzy's smirk widened into a wicked grin as she leaned in closer, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "And I need to make sure my end of the deal is fulfilled," she countered firmly.

Glancing down at the contract, you saw her pointing to a specific section. "Y/N Caron's husband, Alastor Caron, is strictly forbidden from being physically present around her in any way, shape, or form for the safety and integrity of this agreement."

"But… can't we find some middle ground?" you asked, a sliver of hope lingering in your voice.

"Ah, I've got an idea," Mimzy grinned , reaching into her drawer and pulling out an old radio. She extended it towards you. "You can talk with him as much as you like. This little radio will be your hotline to him. But there's a catch: he stays far, far away from you and this joint. How's that sound?"

Twisting the radio in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. The device seemed ancient, its surface worn and its knobs slightly rusted, yet it held the power to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between you and Alastor. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly brought the pen to the paper, the ink blotting the sheet as you signed your name away, sealing your fate.

"It's a deal."

[ronearoundblindly]

Some Steve for you to enjoy 🥰🫶🏻

Gurl, this f***ed me up! I wanted to try to make it a snippet of Item 107 or The Cinder King, but the muses were just like "you know what you need? emotional damage." So now here we have my first semi-legit period piece (which has zero useful era detail eh) and truly is just the carrier for skinny!Steve love. Hint: It's thirsty, smutty love with hardly any plot ANGST.

Hello and welcome to Lexi's most self-indulgent fic ever. It's got everything: crippling insecurities about my real-life stuff, horniness unmatched even if there were sex pollen shot directly into their faces, and everyone is touch-starved. \o/ Enjoy! WC probably close to 3k but idk because I'm too afraid to look back at it. *slams post button*

Turned away again, Steve "4F" Rogers steps out of the recruitment center to see you standing there, staring up at the posters promising glory.

People hustle around you, several even knocking into you, but you remain transfixed, invisible. You're clutching your purse like a lifeline.

Down one step, worn-through shoes barely hiding every seam in the cobblestone, Steve has to get closer because that's the direction of home and a lonely, empty apartment he can hardly afford. He has to pass by. He has to, but then he sees the amber light reflect on trails of tears down your cheeks.

He has to stop.

"Miss?" Steve clears his throat, his own arm smacked by a rowdy man who then swats at your ass just as Steve tries to get your attention again.

You jolt and turn to him in surprise, hand flying up to cover a sob, sweeping to wipe the evidence of emotion from your face.

Fast--faster than Steve really processes--he's shouting for the guy to apologize before the guy makes to advance, Steve presses himself between you and the asshole still laughing at disrespecting you, and then he--Steve--is getting shoved into the alley with you still at his back.

It's dusk. The alley is nearly black. Steve can hear you crying but he's slipped on the stones wet from an afternoon rain. He scrambles to right himself.

Amidst the cries, he hears grunts of anger and resistance, terror creeping into his chest as Steve thinks you're being assaulted.

"Piece of shit," you bite out. The silhouette of you hurling your bag at the man's face repeatedly is clear from where Steve crouches, backlit as you are by the movie theater marquee.

Then the guy is down on the ground, too, being stomped on by your two-inch heel. "Piece of fucking shit."

"Woah," Steve jumps forward to hold you back. "Woah, language, ma'am. Let's go. Just leave him."

He has a weak arm around your waist, but you kick at the man one more time for good measure, hissing "liar" before turning to follow.

Your hand in his, Steve hurries through the streets, picking the ones he knows are busier but maneuverable to make sure you're not being pursued. Each time he looks back, he sees your sinking face, more tears, more exhaustion, and he makes a flash decision.

He doesn't stop until he locks the door of his apartment behind you both, and you break down on the bare wood floor.

"You hurt? Did he hurt you?" Steve's boney knees land a few inches from yours and he leans over, his long fingers brushing over your pinned hair and stiff curls that dislodged in the commotion. "You're alright. You're safe here."

Where your legs crumple underneath you, your slip lays over your thigh, uncovered by the skirt pooling on the other side of your hip. He can see the outline of a garter strap and the top of your stocking beneath the silky material. Steve's always loved pretty, delicate things. He also loves the faint bulge of flesh around the restraints.

There's meat on your bones, something to hold onto, and he shakes his head, chastising himself for noticing all the wrong things about the crying woman in his home. His lonely, empty home.

Steve attempts to think of anything other than your body.

"Do you know him? What'd you call him a liar for?"

You sigh in defeat, hands flopping into your lap, and confess that it wasn't about him so much as a man not here anymore. Gone. To war. You tell Steve a rambling tale of excuses and snide comments, of a parting that left you wondering why that man--any man--bothered to be with you in the first place, of a surety that you weren't ever wanted.

"I thought he loved me but he lied."

Steve sits cross-legged in front of you now, enthralled and utterly confused. Why would anyone...?

"That's the worst part," you exclaim, voice cracking. "I don't know. I'll never know." Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt. "I heard today that he died. Don't know where. Don't know when. And I hate that I still care."

"But he wasn't good to you," Steve soothes and wraps his hand around yours, "and he wasn't good for you."

All you do is shrug and hide your face. Tears falls to the fabric below your eyes and seep through in dark patches.

He scoots forward and lifts your chin with a gentle nudge. When your puffy red eyes meet his, he's struck by how lucky he feels to see you like this. It's odd to think someone who knew you more and for so much longer couldn't feel infinitely more attached and protective. You're so vulnerable, so open, so...

"You're beautiful." Steve's tongue swipes over his dry lips. "You're so beautiful."

The words are loaded heavier than tanks and pack the punch of a bomb. He can tell you don't truly hear him by the way you shrink and shake your head out of his hold.

"Don't do that," he pleads. "Please don't hide from me."

"You don't know me."

"No, but I--"

"You don't even know my name!"

He sits back and offers his hand.

"Hi, I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you, and I think you're beautiful."

"That's stupid," you lash out, bitterly spitting the half-hearted, heart-breaking words. "You must be an idiot, Steve."

It's not the first time he's heard it, but it is the first time he's not mad at hearing it. He believed those things, too, long ago, before his mom convinced him to see the possibilities in one's struggles. If you perceive it as an obstacle, it is an obstacle. Perceive it as an opportunity instead and use it. Those aren't her exact words, but Sarah Rogers has so many different ways of teaching the same fundamental lessons that Steve can't remember the phrases anymore.

He can remember the feeling. He remembers seeing both obstacles and opportunities.

"Is it stupid to want to touch you?" he whispers. "Because I would love to touch you."

The question is purposefully leading since he knows from your story that's exactly what you long for. It'll be more impactful if he shows you he longs for that too.

Slowly--so slowly--his hand comes up to your cheek again, his fingers tucking behind your neck.

"I don't want your pity." There's still bitterness but no power behind it. You gently shift closer and meet him halfway.

He's kissed girls before, he's fooled around, and he has, in fact, slept with one girl. They went all the way--twice--which means Steve knows what it is to be pitied intimately. He knows what it's like to want something so badly you don't care what the motivation is.

You deserve to know his motives.

"I don't pity you." His focus falls to your quivering lip. "I want to make you happy." He's close. He's so close his breath rolls warm over your face. "I want to make you smile."

A soft whimper leaves you just as his mouth arrives.

"I want you," he says into the kiss.

Instead of fighting, you grab at his jacket, pulling him until you're both falling into the stand lamp. You taste of salt and something sweet he can't put his finger on. Steve resolves to put that on the list of things to find out about you.

He keeps kissing you as you both fall, the lamp now wedged at an angle by the side table. Despite the tangle of tongues, Steve keeps his hands to himself. He doesn't quite have enough answers.

"What do you want, beautiful?"

Hesitant as he pulls away, gripping worn leather like your purse in the street, your eyes dart between his. You're a dream beneath him, but that sounds too selfish to voice.

"May I..." Steve is already panting "...get you off the floor? More comfortable?"

Maybe you haven't been able to say the words, but Steve doesn't need more convincing to know you want him.

He could tell from the way you pawed at him. He could tell from the multiple times you crashed him into the walls along the hall to makeout more. He could tell from the way you melted like hot butter at his every returned touch, but finally, you two made it to his bed.

He'd be embarrassed by the lumpy old thing if there weren't a curvy, luscious dame standing with wide legs at the foot of it, letting his tie slip through your hands as he sits stunned.

Steve swallows thickly.

"Let me see you." It comes out as more of an order than the hopeful question he intended, but when he sees the command shiver through you, he feels six-foot-six and powerful as all hell.

You two share the burden of unbuttoning all of your layers, spinning you a few times to release front and back and side to side. His hands spread and roam to relish each garment, each moment, until you're top half is naked.

He stares, fierce blue irises muted by the dim light on his bedside table, 'beautiful' on his lips every second you spend with your finger yanking the knot of his tie and sliding off the bond. When you lean to pop his shirt buttons, your breasts hang in his face.

Steve stops you by your wrists, peaking up at you through his long lashes as he takes a nipple in his mouth. He keeps thinking it--beautiful--while his tongue sweeps flat across pebbling flesh. Each subsequent swirl has you melting again, pressing more of you to his face, dragging nails up his chest, sighing long and deep. When he switches to the other side, your fingers bury in his hair. He takes his time to worship you, tracing his own fingertips around the hem of your slip and garters.

He doesn't get impatient, if anything Steve feels greedy for wanting more, for praying this lasts forever, for needing all you're willing to give.

His teeth graze your skin in wanton lust, and you flinch in surprise, knocking you off-balance.

You fall to your knees on the mattress, straddling Steve's slender body beneath your hot core.

"Sorry," you mutter, wriggling to stand, forcing Steve to wrap his arms around you and halt your retreat. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"You can sit on me morning, noon, and night," he rasps. "I won't complain. I'll thank you, beautiful."

He groans pathetically when you relax, the grind of your ass making his slacks pinch tighter and tighter. Steve lets his head fall back on the sheets, eyes fluttering shut. The army might not want him, the world outside may forget he ever existed, but you see. He could get addicted to this feeling. He might get lonely without it.

Steve isn't strong enough to keep hold of you, but your weight never leaves, his erection still slotted between your cheeks. His mouth drops wide when your hips roll. Steve whines when you rise up enough to resume unbuttoning him. His lungs and heart go into overdrive, but even so, Steve doesn't want you doing all the work.

He flips you--using the sum total of his strength--and shuffles backward to stand, ripping the tails of his shirt from beneath his belt and shucking off his trousers. That part he could have been more patient for, but Steve smirks and brushes away the hair falling in his eyes, chest heaving from exertion.

He's pleased to see you watching him, ogling his body without judgment. You look like you want to eat him alive, and he is perfectly fine with that.

His palm lands on your knee to sneak higher beneath your slip, nimble fingers popping the clasps along your stockings and hooking through the band of your underwear. You lifting for him is all the permission he needs. Steve leaves your slip, garter belt, and stockings in place, and in a cheeky twist, he lets your underwear hang off one of your ankles, kissing your inner thigh, pushing your knees wider for him to fit.

He throbs in his boxers at the sight of your sex.

Nerves roil in his belly at the idea he is solely responsible for your pleasure. As he glances up to you, propped up on your elbows with a fearful and expectant gaze, he sees a poster promising honor and glory, a service to be proud of, and for the first time, he has doubts.

You see it in his eyes.

"Steve?"

He wants to participate and show that he's worthy of you.

This isn't about him though, and Steve Rogers is nothing if not dedicated anyone other than himself.

"Right here." He snaps back to reality, laying his hand to your thatch of hair and gently teasing his thumb along your folds. "I'm right here, beautiful."

It's an honor to touch you. He's proud of the moan elicited because he strokes over your clit rhythmically. The glory of watching you writhe is all his.

Steve's breath stays rapid as yours picks up. You're fisting the sheets, slick pooling beneath the pad of his thumb, helping him pick up speed. He dips into you, tests the breach while pushing his boxers down, and crawls over the edge of the bed. Like magnets, you guide each other higher till the pillows cradle you.

You're a broken record, repeating a desperate loop.

"Steve," you whimper.

"Won't ever lie to you." He captures your lips again. "Want you so badly. I'll want you all the time."

Steve doesn't understand why you won't talk to him, so he slows, eyes questioning and brow furrowed. You have to see. The light is right there.

Bottom lip trapped, you still say nothing, but your arms raise to his smooth face and plead in the silence.

He wants the same thing. He wants to feel. Not just the sting of rejection. Not just the slippery, rough stones through his shoes. Not just the empty ache inside. He wants to feel like someone cares whether he lives or dies.

You care even when you don't want to, but Steve can earn you, your care, your smile and your tears. He'll get up and come home to you every time. He needs you to come home to.

Otherwise, this is a lonely, empty apartment. Otherwise, he is a lonely, empty man.

Your hands bring him close, lips pausing just before contact while Steve sinks two fingers into you.

You gasp. His fingers curl. His thumb goes back to work. You kiss him with what little breath you can hold between muted cries until Steve notices your roving hands tug at his waist.

He wants the same thing.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve drapes your thighs over his, his slick fingers spreading you. He's mesmerized watching his cock disappear inch by inch, and the caress of your walls shuts down all other brain function. All he can do is slide against you, bent into your soft body, your breasts padding his jerky thrusts, the base of him perfectly laving the hood of your clit in the growing mess.

You're wet, and he's driven wild by the need to make you come. He tries to sit up again, to play with you properly, but he's stopped by the weight of your legs crossed behind his ass, the strength of your thighs anchoring him in place.

Steve takes huge, deep breaths through his nose because he won't last concentrating on how your body bounces and ripples, plush beneath his boney form.

You get wetter, looser in a welcoming way that spurs him to drive himself home faster. He sucks in air, though it's futile once his heavy balls start to seize.

Suddenly, you shout, stretching to push yourself completely flush with his pelvis, and he has to pull out, keeping aligned with the cut of you as aftershocks make you mindlessly hump him. Steve's cum shoots all over his belly and your chest, some drops dampening what clothes he didn't discard, stains of joy replacing stains of sadness.

His chest might explode. He's gasping, taxed beyond his naughtiest dreams, head lolling toward the ceiling with his throat high.

He feels your legs fall away, and Steve hopes for an instant that you embrace him even though he might suffocate in the process.

The envelopment never comes. The world is fuzzy and too warm beyond him.

He hears the sink in his bathroom turn on just as he lands palms-down on sweaty sheets. He tries every trick he knows to calm down. The water still runs after all the time it takes for him to recover and stand. The closer he gets to the doorway, the clearer the sound really is.

Sobbing.

"Beautiful? What's wrong? Did I--"

The faucet squeaks off, and you barrel out, nearly running him over, your arms covering your chest and your disheveled hair hiding your face.

"What are you doing? Are you cold?" Steve tries.

"I'm disgusting," you hiss in a mad dash for the pile of clothes on the floor.

He trips over his feet to stop you, corralling you as best he can, but you're quick. You certainly have fight in you. Steve only want to show you you do not have to fight him.

"Come back to bed," he commands hopefully, grabbing your wrist as you scoop up your wrinkled dress. "I should clean up, but please, please, come back to bed."

There is something broken and fearful in the way you finally meet his eye. He's torn apart, shredded down to nothing in a single look. That's not how a feral animal sees the world; that's how an animal, abused and betrayed, locks the world out.

Your protection is what you really took off for him. Your thick armor is what Steve got past.

"I didn't lie." He lets go of you and steps back as calm as his rasping breaths can manage. "I want you. I want you to stay." He wonders whether he ought to cover himself, too, because perhaps total vulnerability makes you more nervous.

So he presents himself as an opportunity, not an obstacle.

Steve finds his boxers a foot away and says one more time, "I hope you stay."

Unmoving, your eyes follow his walk to the bathroom, and in the split second he's looking down to turn the tap, you're gone.

Disappointment floods his system, but like all the other stamped failures in his record, Steve goes through the motions of caring for a body that thwarts his desire to live at every turn. In fact, it tries to die so often, he's always surprised to find himself here, staring at this mirror again, wondering why he gets back up.

He's also surprised to find you here, in the bed with the sheet pulled up to your chin, nodding to the side table where you've placed a cup of water.

The tiniest of genuine smiles curves your lips.

Steve's home is neither lonely nor empty anymore. He could cry.

A/N: this got so incredibly out of hand... I'm so sorry. But also, thank you for reading!

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

[chaossturns]

𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 | 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

⋆⑅˚₊ — synopsis: Matt has been shutting you out due to his personal problems, which is causing problems in your relationship.

“girl , you mean the world to me , yes , you do , ooh” - givēon

⋆⑅˚₊ — pairing: matt sturniolo x poc!reader

⋆⑅˚₊ — warnings: fighting, crying , swearing, angst, and a somewhat happy ending

a/n: i honestly kind of hate this but it’s wtv 😭 , also this is my first time writing angst so it may be a bit rough

a/n 2: @luverboychris saw this first 👀

⋆⑅˚₊ — word count: 0.6k

proofread

The sound of your foot tapping against the car floor and the rain pattering around you filled the silenced car.

Matt was now driving you home after you guys had gotten into a heated argument.

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

“Matt, you can’t keep shutting me out like this!” You yell to him, your hands hitting the side of your legs.

“I don’t need to tell you every fucking thing that’s happening right now. I just don’t okay!” He screamed back, turning his gaze from the floor to you.

“Well Matt, this relationship won’t last then will it?” You ask him, letting your anger get to you. “Just please talk to me, I promise we’ll be on the same page if you just open up.” your tone getting a bit quieter as you try to calm down.

“It’s not like you’re a fucking saint either.” He murmurs out, “You've done this before and I left you alone, but when it comes to me it seems like I can’t have that space can I?”

“I just wish you would vanish Matt,” you start. “then we wouldn’t have these fucking problems and arguments.” you say, your voice breaking towards the end, tears beginning to fall from you eyes. Matt’s face drops, his hands reaching towards you.

“Bab-“ Matt begins to say, but you cut him off. “No Matt, just take me home.” you say, slightly brushing his shoulder as you went out his bedroom door, and stomped your way to the car.

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

You turn your body and stare at the window, your mind clouded with thoughts. You loved Matt with your whole life, but he would just get so stressful sometimes, to the point where you thought this wouldn’t work out any longer.

Your eyes begin to water, thinking about all the times you and Matt were happy, laughing, and talking about total nonsense. Tears are now falling against your cheeks, small sobs being heard throughout the car.

Matt glances over at you, regretting his past decisions. He looks back towards the road, the windshield wipers hastily moving as the rain poured harder. His mind was racing with thoughts, not wanting to lose you due to his poor choices.

You put your arm against the car door, resting your head against. The car pulls into your neighborhood, the water covered ground reflecting the lights planted on the sides.

Matt slowly cruises the car down the streets, your house approaching soon. You feel the car come to a complete halt, now looking out the window, and seeing your house. You take your seatbelt off, not saying anything to Matt as you open the passenger door.

The rain comes pouring down against your body as you exit, slamming the car door behind you. You hear Matt’s door open and shut, now picking up your pace, just wanting to get inside.

Matt runs up to you, wanting to get some pressure off of his chest. You feel his cold hand grip onto your upper arm, securing you so you don’t get free.

“Matt let me go!” You yell to him, more tears wanting to break free from your eyes. Matt ignores your plea, pulling you flush upon his chest. You fully break down, not caring about how wet you’re getting from the heavy downpour. He engulfs you in a deep hug, kissing the top of your head while you sob into him.

“I fucking hate you.” You mumble, ragged and shaky breaths leaving your lips.

“I, I know,” he begins, “I’m so sorry.” an exhale of breath following after. You sniffle, gazing up at Matt’s dripping face.

“I got stuff to work on, you got stuff to work on.” Matt says, staring deeply into your eyes, his eyes filled with regret and sadness.

“But, we’re gonna, we’re gonna make it work.” He continues, lifting your chin slightly with his index finger.

“I love you , okay.” He reassures, placing his cold, soft lips against yours. Your lips dance with his as the rain overtakes your bodies, hoping things will work out for the both of you.

tags: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @sturnsslut @bigbeefybitch @rileysturniolo @itsnotmariahh @summerssover @l0ver-i @thenickgirl @mattssluttygf @hoesformatt

[vanteguccir]

can you make a blurb of chris with his gf that's been feeling very down and has an anxiety attack? (if ur comfy w that)

── ୨୧ !　 a blurb where you wake up feeling bad and on the verge of an anxiety attack, but chris is there for you - as he always is

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

The morning light filtered softly through the gap under the door, casting a gentle glow across the floor room. Y/N lay in bed, her eyes wide open as she stared at the ceiling. The soft hum of someone - provably Matt - moving gently upstairs did nothing to calm the unease that had settled deep in her chest.

There was no reason for it, no particular trigger she could pinpoint, yet the anxiety was there, creeping into her thoughts and wrapping around her heart like a vice. Her breathing was shallow, her heart racing with a sense of dread she couldn’t quite shake. Her eyes were tired and slightly red from the little to nothing hours of sleep.

Today was supposed to be a good day. She and Chris had planned it out earlier in the week; breakfast at their favorite little café, a stroll through the city streets, maybe a bit of shopping. It was a day they both looked forward to, a chance to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But as she lay there, tangled in the cotton sheets, the excitement that usually accompanied such plans was overshadowed by a heavy, unexplainable weight.

Chris stirred beside her, his arm draped over her waist, pulling her closer. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, anything to ground herself. But it wasn’t enough. The anxiety continued to gnaw at her, relentless and unforgiving.

"I should get up." She whispered to herself, carefully slipping out from under Chris’s arm. She moved quietly, not wanting to wake him just yet. He deserved to sleep in a little longer; he had been working so hard lately, filming a lot of different videos with his brothers and creating the new collection of Fresh Love. Maybe if she just kept moving, kept herself busy, she could push the anxiety away.

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would wake her up, snap her out of this spiral. But as she looked at herself in the mirror, all she saw was the fear and tension reflected back at her. Her hands trembled as she reached for the towel to dry her face, her breath coming in short, rapid gasps. It seemed like her lungs never got full enough.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, to calm the storm brewing inside her, but it was no use. The more she tried to suppress it, the more overwhelming it became. Still, she had a day planned with Chris. She couldn’t let this ruin it. She just needed to keep it together, at least until they were out and about, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of the city. Maybe then, the anxiety would fade into the background.

She took her time in the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her in the hopes that it would soothe her. But when she stepped out, wrapping a towel around her body, her nerves were just as frayed as before.

She could hear Chris moving around in the bedroom now, probably getting dressed, and she knew she had to put on a brave face.

Y/N took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. As she stepped into the room, the cool air hit her wet skin, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Her hair dripped onto the white towel, and she kept her gaze low, not trusting herself to look at Chris just yet. She could feel the frown etched on her face, the way her chest kept moving too fast, and she prayed that he wouldn’t notice.

But Chris knew her too well. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a pair of socks when he looked up and saw her, ready to say his first good morning in that day, but suddenly stopping. His brow furrowed immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her as she moved slowly to the closet, her movements stiff and uncoordinated.

"Baby?" He called softly, but she didn’t respond, too focused on trying to steady her breathing, to keep the tears that were threatening to spill at bay.

Y/N felt the weight of Chris’s gaze as he gently turned her to face him, his hands firm yet comforting on her shoulders. Her breath hitched, and she tried to muster a reassuring smile, but Chris wasn’t having any of it.

"What’s going on, babe?" His voice was soft, filled with worry. "Hey, you’re shaking."

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. The trembling in her hands worsened as if her body was betraying her attempt to appear calm. Her breath began to quicken, each inhale growing more shallow than the last. She clenched the towel tighter around her, feeling the edges of panic creeping in.

"It’s nothing, Chris. I’m fine, really. Let’s just get ready and go." She forced out, her voice strained, refusing to look into his eyes.

But Chris’s eyes searched hers, seeing the truth behind her words. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped without her realizing.

"You’re not fine." He said gently, concern deepening in his gaze. "Talk to me."

Y/N tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it only grew larger.

"I woke up feeling so anxious." She finally admitted, her voice trembling. "I don’t know why, but it’s like… it’s like there’s this weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe properly. My heart’s racing, and I can’t… I can’t make it stop."

As she spoke, the feelings she had been trying to suppress began to overwhelm her. Her chest tightened painfully, each breath now coming in rapid, uneven gasps. The room started to spin, her vision narrowing as her hands shook uncontrollably. Her legs felt like they might give out any second, the numbness creeping up from her feet, making her feel disconnected from her own body.

Chris’s eyes widened in alarm as he watched the familiar signs of an impending anxiety attack take hold of her. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, his hands moving to cradle her face, anchoring her in the present.

"Y/N, look at me." He said firmly, his voice steady but soothing. "Focus on my voice, yeah? Just focus on me."

Her eyes darted around, panic rising as the room seemed to close in on her.

"I-I can’t… I can’t breathe." She gasped, her chest burning with the effort, her hands closing into tight fists against her chest, the towel fabric brushing against her skin making her feel suffocating. It was all too much.

"Yes, you can." Chris insisted, his voice calm and reassuring. "You’re safe. I’m right here with you. Just try to match your breathing with mine, okay? In… and out. You know how to do it, yeah?"

He exaggerated his own breaths, taking slow, deep inhales and long exhales, hoping she would follow his lead. Y/N tried to mimic his breathing, but her body resisted, her lungs refusing to cooperate as her mind spiraled further into panic, shaking her head as if telling him that it wasn't working.

"It’s okay, petal." Chris continued, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks. "I’ve got you. You’re not alone. Just keep trying, focus on the sound of my voice. You're my smart girl, I know you can do it."

His words were a lifeline in the chaos, something tangible to cling to as her world seemed to tilt on its axis. She fixed her eyes on his ocean blue ones, trying desperately to ground herself in his presence. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she began to force her breaths to deepen, following the rhythm he set.

In... out.

In... out.

"That’s it." Chris murmured, his hands never leaving her face. "You’re doing great. Just keep going."

The numbness in her legs started to recede as her breathing began to slow, the tightness in her chest easing slightly. She focused on the warmth of Chris’s hands, the steadiness of his gaze, and the calm that radiated from him like a soothing balm.

After what felt like an eternity, her breathing finally evened out, the sharp edges of panic dulling into a manageable hum. The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, but this time, they were tears of relief, not fear.

Chris pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him as if to shield her from any lingering remnants of the attack.

"You’re okay." He whispered into her hair, his hand rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back. "You’re safe, Y/N. I’m here."

She clung to him, her face buried in his chest, drawing strength from his presence. The remnants of the anxiety attack left her feeling drained and shaky, but Chris’s embrace was a refuge, a place where she could let go of the fear and simply be.

"I’m sorry." She mumbled into his shirt, her voice thick with exhaustion and emotion.

Chris shook his head, pulling back just enough to look at her, his expression tender.

"Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for." He said softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from her damp forehead. "I’m just glad you’re okay."

Y/N nodded, wiping at her tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You don’t have to worry about that." Chris replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

They stood there in silence for a few moments longer, the intensity of the situation gradually fading into the background as the warmth of their connection took its place. Chris kept his arms around her, his presence a solid and comforting weight that grounded her in the here and now.

When she finally felt steady enough to stand on her own, Chris gave her a reassuring smile.

"Why don’t we take it easy today?" He suggested. "We don’t have to go out if you’re not feeling up to it. We can stay in, watch movies, whatever you want."

Y/N considered his offer, the thought of staying in and cocooning herself in the safety of their home tempting. But she knew that sometimes it helped to get out, to distract herself with the world outside.

"No, I think I still want to go." She said, her voice stronger now, though still soft. "I think… I think it might help."

Chris nodded, his expression understanding.

"Okay. But if at any point you need to come back, just say the word. We’ll take it slow."

"I will." She promised, feeling a bit more like herself as she managed a small smile, grateful for his understanding. He always knew exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t know it herself. "Thank you." She whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"Always." He replied, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead before stepping back to give her space. "I’ll be right here if you need me."

As Y/N watched him move back to the bed, resuming his task of getting dressed, she felt a sense of calm beginning to replace the anxiety. It wasn’t gone completely, but with Chris there, she knew she could handle it. She took another deep breath, this one more steady, and turned back to the closet to finish getting ready.

I know, I write too much and too long, sorry yall 🙏🏻🤞🏻

I would post as a usual fic, but I feel like yall like it more when it's blurbs 😭

[barcaatthemoon]

seeing is believing || patri guijarro x reader ||

patri makes you watch yourself getting fucked.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

"i have a surprise for you."

all you had been able to think about for the past week was patri's surprise. you knew from the way she had grabbed your arm and tugged you in close that it had to be a sexual one. there had been a lot of talking back and forth about trying out new things, and your mind couldn't pick just one that you hoped patri was surprising you with.

the walk to her place was a short one from the coffee shop patri asked you to meet her at. your body was practically buzzing from being so close to her. you hadn't realized how much you had missed patri while she was at camp. between the texts, phone calls, and facetimes, you almost felt like she was right next to you.

"you're so pretty. i love looking at you. i wish that you could see yourself the way that i do," patri mumbled as she pressed multiple kisses to the side of your neck. you let out a small sigh as her lips moved across your throat and up towards your face. patri tilted your head up a bit as she stole a kiss from your lips.

you loved it when patri slowed down and took her time with you. the adrenaline from the games always caused her to rush through things before she crashed. today, neither of you had done anything , so patri could really take her time in making you fall apart in her arms.

"come with me," patri mumbled as she broke the kiss. your lips were a little bruised from the kiss, and patri thought her head was going to explode if she had to keep waiting for a moment longer.

at first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary about patri's room. it wasn't until you were laid out on her bed that you realized what had changed. above patri's bed, where that previously just been ceiling, was a mirror. you weren't sure what to think about it. the idea of it was absolutely ridiculous, and you were sure it had to be a safety hazard, but this was also very obviously patri's present for you.

"what do you think? now you can watch when i fuck you," patri said. her words pushed all of your nerves away. in their place was arousal at the thought of seeing what patri saw. you had always been a bit insecure about yourself, as you assumed everybody was, but patri was boderline obsessed with you in the bedroom. she was always telling you how gorgeous you were, and maybe this point of view would make it easier to believe. "if it's too much, we can go into a different room."

"no! no, i want to try this," you told her. patri smiled as she pulled you to settle on her lap. she kissed you again and again, quick pecks eventually turning into deeper and more passionate kisses.

patri used the kisses like a distraction to make it easier to get you out of your clothes. undressing was usually something that you preferred in dim lighting, not the middle of the afternoon with patri's curtains open. luckily, her apartment was on a high enough floor that people from the streets wouldn't be able to just look in on what you were doing.

"look up and keep your eyes on yourself, not me," patri instructed. she knew that you'd listen to her. it wasn't often that patri gave you orders or instructions in bed, and you had never once faltered in following them perfectly.

she could definitely tell that you wanted to just watch her. you had always been fascinated by the way that patri touched you. you loved the way her face would rest on your body as her fingers lazily trailed back and forth through your folds, teasing you and spreading the wetness all over your cunt.

your eyes rolled back when patri's thumb began to rub light circles over your clit. patri was quick to remind you to keep your eyes on your reflection as she pinched the inside of your thigh. you yelped and jumped a little, landing back in patri's arms. it was a quick flash of time when patri wasn't touching you, but it was long enough for you to whine and buck your hips.

"relax, mi amor. i am right here," patri said as she leaned her face down. you felt ridiculously desperate for patri's mouth, enough to shamelessly buck into her mouth. patri hummed in approval and moaned in pleasure at the taste of you on her tongue.

you didn't last long grinding yourself against patri's tongue, and the midfielder made no moves to stop you. she let you have your fun and get yourself off. patri stayed between your legs even after you had hit your first peak, but she waited for you to pull her back in for more.

the second time around, patri held your hips down and watched to make sure that you were watching yourself. it was odd, seeing the way your face contorted with pleasure. you wanted so badly to squeeze your eyes shut and ride patri's fingers until you had cum again, but patri was serious about making you watch yourself this time.

"just a little longer, i know you can keep watching," patri cooed gently. it was almost patronizing, but you were visibly struggling to keep your focus on yourself. you tried to find different ways to make it easier, but it felt a little too much like an out of body experience.

"patri, i can't," you whimpered. patri wasn't frowning when you looked at her, and the gentle smile that she sent you was more than enough to dampen your guilt. this wasn't nearly as serious as you were making it out to be, and patri would try this again with you in different positions.

"it's okay, just relax for me, vale? relax, and let go. i just want to see my pretty girl cum," patri told you. she sat up on her knees and pushed her hips forward to add a bit of force behind the thrusts of her fingers in and out of you. patri always seemed to know what you needed, and the mix of rougher thrusts and softness of her cradling your face made your head spin deliciously. you couldn't focus on anything other than patri, and that made it easier for you to cum the second time.

you laid back on the bed as you tried to catch your breath. patri was in no rush to make you get up. the two of you laid there for at least a good 20 minutes before patri was pulling you into the shower. she was much quicker to clean herself up, and it was as you finished getting yourself dressed that she came back to you with takeout and some cool bottles of water.

"i was thinking that we could eat in here and hang out while the sheets dry." patri was sitting cross-legged on the couch in a pair of your national team shorts and a sports bra. you couldn't call her out on the shorts, however, because you had stolen various parts to different barcelona things that patri had acquired throughout her tenure with the team.

"sit right, and we're fine," you told her. patri rolled her eyes as she moved her legs so that you could sit on her lap while the two of you ate dinner together.

[whereforarthur]

The Two Arthur’s

Requested by @xrubi-hillx: soft smut with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill with a virgin!reader where she’s upset after an argument with her boyfriend bc he called her a prude or smth and they try to help her and make her feel better??

Pairing: ArthurTv x Virgin!Reader x Arthur Hill

Category: Fluff and Smut

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: ArthurTv and Arthur Hill will be labeled as such to avoid confusing the two Arthur’s

*****

The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others. -Mahatma Gandhi

"You're just a prude," he spat, the venom in his words slicing through the quiet London evening.

Her cheeks burned with a mix of anger and embarrassment as she clutched her jacket closer to her body. The cobblestone streets of the bustling city felt cold and unforgiving under her trembling feet. The neon lights from the nearby pubs and shops painted the wet pavement in a sickly glow, a stark contrast to the warmth she had once felt in his arms. The argument had been a surprise, but the accusation had stung. It wasn't the first time he'd called her that, but she had hoped it would be the last.

Y/n hurried home, the chilly November air biting at her eyes as she tried to hold back the tears. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. The door to her flat swung open, revealing the welcoming embrace of ArthurTv and Arthur Hill, her two best friends, sitting on the couch with mournful expressions. They had heard the news from her frantic text message and had dropped everything to be there for her. The smell of freshly brewed tea filled the room, a beacon of comfort in the storm of her emotions.

"Hey," ArthurTv said gently, patting the couch cushion next to him. "What happened?"

Her eyes watered as she recounted the harsh words, her voice shaking with each painful syllable. Arthur Hill listened intently, his brows furrowed in concern. The silence in the room was thick with unspoken support, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city outside.

"It's not right," Arthur Hill murmured, reaching for her hand. "You don't deserve to be talked to like that."

ArthurTv nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting the hurt he felt for her. "Exactly. You're amazing just the way you are. He's the one with the problem."

They sat there for a while, the warmth of the tea seeping into her bones and the kindness of their words soothing her soul. She took a deep breath, feeling a weight lifting from her chest. "Thanks, guys. I just don't know what to do."

ArthurTv leaned in closer, his eyes filled with understanding. "Look, you know we're here for you, right?"

"Of course," she whispered, sniffling.

"Good," Arthur Hill said firmly. "Because if he can't wait for you to be ready, then he doesn't deserve to be with you. Sex is about love and trust, not about pushing boundaries you're not comfortable with."

Her eyes searched their faces, finding the validation she desperately needed. She nodded, taking another sip of tea, the warm liquid soothing her raw throat. "You're right," she murmured. "I don't know why I let it get to me so much."

"It's because you care," ArthurTv said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But you deserve someone who worships you, not someone who belittles you."

A small smile graced her lips, the first one since the argument. She felt a spark of defiance ignite within her. "You know what? You're both right. I'm worth more than that."

Arthur Hill gave her hand a squeeze. "We're going to help you through this. You're not alone."

The boys looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. "How about we do something to take your mind off things?" ArthurTv suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Like what?" she asked, hopeful for a distraction from the pain.

ArthurTv's grin grew wider. "Leave it to us. We'll show you a night you'll never forget."

*****

The two Arthur's set to work, transforming the flat into a sanctuary of pampering. They lit candles, filling the air with the sweet scent of vanilla and lavender. Soft music played in the background, a soothing melody that seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket. They led her to the couch, where a mountain of fluffy pillows and blankets awaited. The care in their eyes was like a balm to her bruised heart.

Arthur Hill took charge, guiding her to lay down. He began to gently massage her shoulders, his strong hands working out the tension that had built up. "Just relax," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through her. The warmth of his touch was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. She closed her eyes, letting out a contented sigh.

ArthurTv emerged from the kitchen and sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch, setting to work on her feet. His gentle touch sent waves of comfort through her body. "We're going to make you feel like a queen," he said, smiling up at her.

The warmth of Arthur Hill's hands continued to spread down her back, kneading the knots that had formed from weeks of stress and doubt. She could feel the tension in her body begin to melt away, her muscles loosening like a tightly wound spring.

"Mm, that feels so good," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Arthur Hill's hands stilled for a moment before he resumed the massage, his touch lingering slightly longer on the nape of her neck. She shivered, feeling a tingle of something unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting. ArthurTv's eyes met hers, and she saw the same understanding reflected there. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the air thickening with a new tension, one that was no longer just about her heartache.

Her breath hitched as Arthur Hill's thumbs traced slow circles along her collarbone, his fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin just above her shirt. She looked down to see ArthurTv's hands moving up her legs, his gaze never leaving hers. The candlelight danced across their faces, casting shadows that seemed to deepen the intensity of the moment.

Without a word, ArthurTv leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her ankle, his eyes never leaving hers. A jolt of heat shot through her, and she felt a flush spread from her toes to her cheeks. Arthur Hill's massage grew more intimate, his hands gliding over the fabric of her shirt, his thumbs tracing the line of her spine, sending shivers down her back.

Her heart raced as she realized the shift in their intentions. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. This was new territory, but with her two best friends, she felt safe. They had always been there for her, and she knew they would never push her further than she was willing to go.

"Are you okay with this?" ArthurTv asked, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet room. His hand paused on her calf, giving her the space to process the sudden turn of events.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she searched their faces, the candlelight flickering in their eyes. "I... I think so," she replied, her voice tentative. "But I've never..."

Arthur Hill's hands stilled on her shoulders, his eyes filled with understanding. "We know, and we'll take it slow. We just want to make you feel good, show you that you're desired and cherished."

ArthurTv nodded in agreement. "We're not here to replace him, or to take advantage. We just want to help you heal, and if that means showing you a different kind of love tonight, then we're all for it."

*****

Their words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and she found herself nodding, the nervousness giving way to a growing sense of excitement. They had been her confidants, her protectors, and now they offered her something she hadn't even considered. The thought of exploring intimacy with them was both thrilling and terrifying, but she knew she could trust them implicitly.

Arthur Hill's hands began to move again, more deliberately this time, unbuttoning her shirt with a tender touch. She sat up, allowing him to slip the material off her shoulders, exposing her lacy bra. ArthurTv's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her, but the look was tinged with the same care and respect that had always been there. She watched as they both leaned in, their breaths mingling with hers, and she felt a warmth pool in her belly that had nothing to do with the tea.

"So beautiful," ArthurTv murmured, his voice a soft caress that sent goosebumps across her skin.

Her eyes searched his, finding a tenderness that made her breath catch in her throat. Arthur Hill's hands paused on her shoulders, his gaze following the same path as ArthurTv's, both sets of eyes lingering on the delicate lace of her bra. The room grew hotter, the candlelight playing across their faces, casting shadows that danced with the desire that had begun to unfurl within her.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice a shaky mess of nerves and hope. She felt their love, their friendship, in every touch, and it was that which gave her the courage to take this uncharted step.

ArthurTv's fingers traced the edges of her bra, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her collarbone, the touch sending a rush of sensation through her. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as Arthur Hill's mouth found hers, his kiss gentle but insistent. The softness of his lips was a stark contrast to the firmness of ArthurTv's hands as he unclasped her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her bare skin.

Their kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as Arthur Hill's hands slid up her body to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed against her sensitive nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. ArthurTv's kisses traveled down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he took one of her breasts into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh. She arched her back, a moan escaping her lips, the sensation overwhelming and new.

"That's it, love," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her body. His hands slid down to her hips, his thumbs tracing the waistband of her jeans. She nodded, giving him the silent permission to proceed, her body singing with anticipation. He unbuttoned her jeans, and ArthurTv helped her to shimmy out of them, leaving her in just her panties. She felt exposed but safe, surrounded by the warmth of their love.

Their eyes traveled over her body, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of power in their hungry gazes. "You handsome boys are wearing too much clothes," she said with a shy smile, the words slipping out before she could second-guess herself.

They both chuckled, the sound a sweet relief in the heavy silence. ArthurTv stood and began to strip, revealing a lean, muscular torso that made her heart race. Arthur Hill followed suit, his movements slower but no less captivating. As they both settled back on the couch, their bare chests rising and falling with anticipation, she felt a thrill of excitement. This was really happening, and she was ready.

They took their time, exploring her body with gentle kisses and tender touches, making sure she was comfortable with every step. ArthurTv kissed her deeply, his hands cupping her face as Arthur Hill's lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She felt her body respond, her breaths growing shorter, her skin flushing with heat.

*****

Their touch grew bolder as they worked in tandem, each movement calculated to drive her closer to the edge. Arthur Hill's fingers slid under the elastic of her panties, teasing the sensitive skin just above her mound. She gasped into ArthurTv's mouth, her hips involuntarily bucking upward, seeking more. He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Patience," he whispered against her lips.

ArthurTv broke their kiss, his eyes smoldering with passion. He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. "Did your boyfriend ever eat you out, darling?"

Her eyes widened, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "N-no," she stuttered, the mere thought of it making her tremble.

"Well, he's a selfish prick," ArthurTv murmured, his voice filled with a possessive growl. "We're going to show you what it's like to be truly worshiped."

Her heart raced as Arthur Hill's thumbs hooked into the sides of her panties, slowly pulling them down her legs. She watched, breathless, as ArthurTv leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers, and took off his own trousers, revealing his hard length. The sight of him made her mouth go dry, and she felt a thrill of excitement mingled with nerves.

With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch him, her fingertips brushing lightly against his chest. "Can I?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

ArthurTv's eyes flashed with approval, and he nodded, his hand guiding hers down to wrap around his erection. He groaned softly as she tentatively began to stroke him, her movements clumsy but earnest. Arthur Hill's mouth was back on her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making her gasp. His hands were on her thighs, urging them apart, and she complied, feeling a rush of excitement and vulnerability.

ArthurTv took over, his hands guiding her, showing her the right amount of pressure and speed to elicit the deepest moans from him. She watched, mesmerized, as he threw his head back, his eyes rolling back in his head. The power she had over him was exhilarating, a stark contrast to the powerlessness she had felt earlier in the night.

Arthur Hill's mouth found hers again, his tongue dancing with hers in a rhythm that mirrored the movements of ArthurTv's hips. His hand traveled down her body, his fingers sliding through the slickness of her arousal. He teased her entrance, and she tensed, her breath hitching in her throat. He pulled away, his eyes searching hers for permission. She nodded, and he slid a single digit inside her, his touch so gentle it brought tears to her eyes.

The sensation was foreign yet oddly comforting, a stark contrast to the pain she had always associated with the word "virginity." They took it slow, each touch and kiss a promise of pleasure to come. ArthurTv's hand on hers, guiding her strokes, his breaths growing more ragged with every passing second. The tension grew, a tight coil in her belly, until she felt like she might burst.

"Ready for more?" Arthur Hill murmured against her mouth, his hand still moving between her legs, his fingers teasing her entrance. She nodded, the anticipation too much to bear. He kissed her deeply, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hand, and she felt herself being drawn into a vortex of desire.

Slowly, so slowly, Arthur Hill's mouth trailed down her body, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nips in its wake. She could feel his warm breath against her skin, her heart pounding in her chest as he reached the apex of her thighs. He paused, looking up at her, and she nodded again, her breath shallow. He positioned himself between her legs, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above her.

With the softest of touches, his tongue met her folds, and she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was indescribable, a gentle yet insistent pressure that had her hips lifting off the couch. He took his time, tasting her, exploring her with a reverence that she had never felt before. Her hands found his hair, tangling in the soft strands as she tried to guide him, to show him what felt good, but he already seemed to know. His tongue circled her clit, the pressure building with every pass, and she felt the coil in her belly tighten.

"You taste so sweet," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice muffled against her. "So perfect."

The words were like a balm to her soul, erasing the harshness of the evening's earlier events. Her body was alive with sensation, her nerves singing under Arthur Hill's skilled ministrations. ArthurTv's hand never left hers, their fingers entwined in a silent promise of support. She felt cherished, desired in a way she never had before.

"You're so beautiful," ArthurTv whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Your body is a work of art." His words were a sweet symphony, each note resonating deep within her, filling her with a sense of worth she hadn't felt in so long.

*****

Their hands moved in concert, caressing and exploring, each touch sending waves of pleasure through her. Arthur Hill's tongue swirled around her clit, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive flesh. The sensations grew more intense, and she felt herself spiraling closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and the soft whispers of encouragement.

"Come undone for us, darling," ArthurTv murmured in her ear, his voice a seductive command that sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes snapped open, meeting his, and she could see the fierce love and passion in his gaze. It was all the encouragement she needed. She let go of her inhibitions, her body arching off the couch as the first spasm of orgasm took her. Arthur Hill's mouth never left her, his tongue lapping at her sweetness as she trembled beneath him.

The wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her gasping for air. She felt a warm hand slide up her stomach to cup her breast, ArthurTv's thumb flicking her nipple in time with Arthur Hill's strokes. It was too much, and yet she wanted more. "Please," she managed to say, the word a desperate plea.

Arthur Hill's eyes lit up with understanding, and he added another finger, pumping into her slowly, letting her adjust to the feeling. She watched ArthurTv's hand work his own length, his eyes on her face, the love and desire in his gaze making her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

Her breath grew ragged as Arthur Hill's tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, her body responding in ways she never knew possible. The sensations grew more intense, the pleasure building to a crescendo. "I'm going to... I'm going to..." she stuttered, unable to find the words.

"Let go, baby," ArthurTv whispered, his voice a gentle encouragement. "We've got you."

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she gave in to the pleasure, her body shaking with the force of her release. Arthur Hill's mouth and hands never stopped moving, drawing out every last tremor until she was boneless and panting. She collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving, feeling as if she had been reborn.

ArthurTv leaned over her, his face flushed with desire. He kissed her softly, tasting the sweetness of Arthur Hill's kisses on her lips. "You're incredible," he murmured, his eyes filled with love and admiration.

Her eyes searched Arthur Hill's, finding the same love reflected back at her. She nodded, her voice a whisper. "Thank you," she said, the words filled with emotion. "Thank you both."

They shared a moment of quiet understanding, the air thick with the scent of candles and the aftermath of passion. Arthur Hill kissed her inner thigh, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt a warmth spread through her. "You're welcome, love," he said, his voice filled with a gentle intensity that made her heart flutter.

ArthurTv leaned in, his eyes searching hers. "Ready for the next step?" His hand slid down her body, his fingers playing with the trimmed hair above her mound.

Her heart raced, but she nodded, feeling a newfound confidence. "Yes," she breathed, her voice trembling with excitement. "I trust you."

*****

ArthurTv reached over to the coffee table, where a box of condoms lay, a silent reminder of their intentions. He ripped one open with his teeth, the sound making her pulse quicken. He rolled it on with a practiced ease, his eyes never leaving hers, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. She had never been with anyone else, and the thought of losing her virginity to someone who knew her so well, who cared for her so deeply, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You ready, love?" ArthurTv asked, his voice thick with desire. She took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of Arthur Hill's body against her side, his hand resting comfortingly on her hip.

"Yes," she whispered, her heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. ArthurTv's hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "This is going to hurt at first," he said gently, his eyes filled with understanding. "But we're here with you, and we'll make it as good as we can."

Her nod was all the encouragement he needed. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. She took a deep breath, feeling the anticipation coil tightly in her stomach. With a gentle push, he entered her, and she gasped at the sudden pressure. "Breathe," Arthur Hill murmured, his hand stroking her hair. "You're doing so well."

The pain was sharp, but she focused on their eyes, the love and care in their expressions giving her the strength to push through it. They both watched her intently, waiting for any sign of distress. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but it was quickly kissed away by ArthurTv. "You're so brave," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm.

"You are doing so good, love," Arthur Hill said, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear. His hand slid down her body, finding her clit and beginning to stroke it with a familiarity that sent another wave of heat through her. The pain began to recede, replaced by the growing pressure of ArthurTv inside her. She took deep, shuddering breaths, her eyes never leaving ArthurTv's as he inched deeper.

"Almost there," he murmured, his eyes filled with concern and love. "Just a bit more." With one final push, he was fully seated within her, and she felt a pop as her barrier gave way. She gasped, the pain a sudden, sharp sting, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth that filled her.

ArthurTv held still, giving her time to adjust to the new sensation. "You okay?" he asked, his voice tight with restrained passion. She nodded, feeling a sense of accomplishment mingled with the lingering discomfort.

"Ready for me to move?" he whispered, his eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt. She nodded again, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he began to pull out, only to push back in. She gasped, the pain now a distant memory as pleasure began to replace it.

Their rhythm grew steadier, ArthurTv's movements slow and gentle, his eyes never leaving hers. Arthur Hill's hand continued to tease her clit, the sensation heightening with every stroke of ArthurTv's cock. "Oh, God," she moaned, her voice a sweet symphony of passion. They watched her face, reading her reactions, adjusting their movements to bring her the most pleasure.

"How does that feel?" Arthur Hill asked, his voice a low rumble of concern and desire.

Y/n bit her bottom lip, the sensation of ArthurTv inside her both strange and exhilarating. "It's... different," she managed to say, her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to process the feeling.

"Different good?" Arthur Hill's voice was gentle, his eyes searching hers for any sign of pain.

"So good," she murmured, the words slipping out of her mouth like a sweet secret. The pleasure grew with every movement, ArthurTv's cock filling her up in a way she had never experienced before. The two of them together, the perfect symphony of care and desire, had her body singing with sensation.

Arthur Hill leaned in, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he continued to work her clit with skilled fingers. "Music to our ears, love," he said with a smile, his voice a soothing melody that had her hips moving in time with ArthurTv's rhythm. "We want to hear you scream our names."

Their movements grew more urgent, their bodies moving in a dance of passion that had been years in the making. ArthurTv's cock slid in and out of her with a gentle ease, the pain long forgotten, replaced by a building pressure that threatened to consume her. She felt Arthur Hill's thumb press down on her clit, the sensation so intense she thought she might shatter.

"Open your eyes, love," Arthur Hill murmured. "I want to see you when you come."

Her eyes fluttered open to meet Arthur Hill's, his gaze intense and hungry. She felt a twinge of guilt for focusing so much on ArthurTv, but she knew that Arthur Hill understood, that he was as much a part of this as the two of them. She nodded, her eyes locking onto his as ArthurTv's thrusts grew deeper, more insistent.

"I want to taste you too," she whispered, her voice raw with need. Arthur Hill's eyes lit up, and he leaned in, kissing her with a passion that made her toes curl. She felt ArthurTv's hand on the back of Arthur Hill's head, urging him closer, the three of them now connected in a way that was more than just friendship.

Gently, Arthur Hill pulled away from her, his eyes never leaving hers. He took her hand and guided it to his erection, her grip tightening around him. He groaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. "Take your time," he murmured, his voice a sweet, seductive melody.

Her hand grew bolder, her strokes more sure as ArthurTv's hips began to move faster, his breaths growing more ragged. She watched as Arthur Hill's hand moved to join hers, their fingers interlocking as they worked in tandem. The sight of them together, the intimacy of their shared touch, was almost too much to bear. Her orgasm was building again, the sensation so intense she could feel it in every nerve ending.

"Fuck, you feel so tight," ArthurTv groaned, his eyes never leaving hers. The words sent a shiver down her spine, the raw desire in his voice making her wetter. "You're going to make me come, love."

Her eyes grew wide, the realization that she had the power to bring him pleasure sending a thrill through her. She tightened her grip on Arthur Hill's cock, matching the rhythm of ArthurTv's thrusts. The two men watched her, their eyes dark with passion, and she felt a newfound sense of confidence.

ArthurTv leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fiery kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he pushed into her deeper, faster. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a heady mix of pain and pleasure that had her body tightening around him. Arthur Hill's hand slid from her hair to her hip, his grip firm as he encouraged her to move with them, to lose herself in the moment.

Her orgasm grew closer with every stroke, the pressure building until she couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry, she shattered, her body convulsing around ArthurTv's cock. He groaned into her mouth, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge, filling her with warmth. They held each other tightly, their breaths mingling as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared release.

As the world slowly came back into focus, she felt Arthur Hill's hand on her cheek, guiding her face towards his erection. She took him in her mouth, the salty taste of his arousal mingling with the sweetness of their kisses. His gasp of pleasure was all the encouragement she needed, and she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the head. The power of making both men feel this way was intoxicating, and she reveled in it.

"That's it, love," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice tight with need. "Just like that." His hand gently cradled the back of her head, his hips moving in time with her mouth. ArthurTv's strokes grew slower, his body taut with the effort to hold back, not wanting to overwhelm her.

The praise washed over her like a warm wave, filling her with a sense of pride and power. She had never felt so desired, so cherished. She took Arthur Hill deeper, her tongue swirling around his length, eager to taste his release. "You're doing so good, baby," ArthurTv whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "So fucking good."

ArthurTv slowly pulled out of her, his cock glistening with her arousal. The feeling of emptiness was almost too much, but she knew this was only the beginning. He leaned back, watching her with a mix of awe and love. "Keep going," he urged, his voice low and needy. "Make him come for you."

Her eyes never left Arthur Hill's as she took him deeper into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his shaft. His hand tightened in her hair, his breathing becoming more erratic. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, and she knew he was close. She increased her pace, her hand moving in time with her mouth.

"Fuck, yes," Arthur Hill groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. "You're going to make me come." The words sent a fresh wave of excitement through her, and she sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing with the effort. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire, and she felt a surge of pride at the effect she had on him.

"You look so pretty like that," ArthurTv murmured, his voice a low rumble of appreciation. She could feel his eyes on her, drinking in the sight of her mouth wrapped around Arthur Hill's cock, her cheeks flushed with arousal. She looked up, meeting ArthurTv's gaze, and the love and admiration in his eyes had her pussy clenching around the emptiness left by his withdrawal.

Arthur Hill's hips began to buck, his movements growing more erratic as she brought him closer to climax. She felt a thrill of excitement at the power she wielded, her inexperience forgotten in the heat of the moment. His eyes snapped open, locking onto hers, and she knew he was close. "Swallow it," he whispered, his voice a desperate plea, and she nodded, eager to please.

With a strangled cry, Arthur Hill came, his warmth flooding her mouth. She took it all, swallowing with a greedy moan that had ArthurTv's eyes darkening with desire. She sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling a sense of accomplishment that was almost as overwhelming as the pleasure that had just washed over her.

*****

"How was that for a first time?" ArthurTv asked, his voice hoarse with passion. She looked at him, her eyes glazed with desire, and smiled. "It was... amazing," she whispered, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions.

The three of them lay tangled together on the couch, their limbs entwined as they caught their breaths. The room was filled with the lingering scent of their love-making, a sweet and musky perfume that seemed to cling to the air. Arthur Hill leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "We're so proud of you," he murmured.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt in a long time. She had never imagined that losing her virginity could be like this, with two men who loved her so fiercely. She looked from Arthur Hill to ArthurTv, their faces a blur of sweat and passion, and felt a tear slip down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

They shared a knowing smile, the intimacy of the moment palpable. "You're welcome, love," ArthurTv murmured, his hand caressing her cheek. "We're always here for you."

The thought of her boyfriend's harsh words seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the warmth and tenderness of her friends' touches. She knew that what they had just shared was more than friendship, and she couldn't help but feel that her relationship with him was a mere shadow of what she had just experienced.

"It might be time soon to break up with your boyfriend, though," Arthur Hill said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "You deserve to be with someone who appreciates you, who doesn't make you feel like that."

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears. "I know," she whispered. The weight of her decision was heavy, but in that moment, with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill surrounding her, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

"We'll be with you every step of the way," ArthurTv assured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "And who knows," he added with a wicked grin, "maybe you'll find someone who really knows how to make you feel good."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at the thought. The idea of moving on from her ex-boyfriend was both exhilarating and terrifying. But with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill by her side, she felt like she could conquer the world. They had shown her a side of herself she never knew existed, a sexual being capable of intense pleasure and passion. "I think I already had," she murmured, her voice filled with a newfound confidence.

The two men exchanged a knowing glance, their smiles widening. "We're just getting started," Arthur Hill said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "There's so much more to explore, love."

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect, her body already craving more of their touch. ArthurTv leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. "We'll take it slow," he assured her. "We're in no rush."

Arthur Hill chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But we do have plans for you," he said, his hand sliding down her body to cup her ass. "So many plans."

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement at the promise in his voice, the idea of more nights like this one stretching out before her. "Whatever you want," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. "I'm all yours."

The three of them lay there, their hearts beating in sync, their bodies still humming with the aftermath of passion. The silence was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that their friendship had evolved into something more. It was the start of a new chapter, one filled with experiences and emotions she had only ever dreamed of.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23 @xxkatxgracexx

[bambikisss]

Dream Ride :  C. Seung Cheol

🎶:: HOT - Seventeen, Bark like you want it- SirMixAlot

🖤 :: Strangers to lovers, blonde SeungCheol, motorcycle! SeungCheol, nonidol! SeungCheol

📙:: You haven't been able to sleep much lately, so you've been driving around at night to help ease your mind. However, you keep passing by the same jet black colored motorcycle every night, which then keeps showing up in your dreams. So when you stop one night to get gas and see the same motorcycle stopped nearby, you decide to meet the man under the helmet.

❤️ :: Unprotected Sex (always wrap it up), slight biting, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving),slight size kink (I mean SeungCheol is big soo-) nicknames used (baby, babygirl, princess, angel), slight mix of soft dom/ hard dom, fucking till "dumb", SeungCheol's big di-

Bambi's note: Hello everyone! I recently took a bit of a break as I had some things that I just had to take care of. But, while I was gone, I kept thinking about SeungCheol so here is what was in my mind all this time while I was gone. It is a bit longer than usual, but trust me, it's worth it.

REBLOGS / COMMENTS ARE ENCOURAGED | NOT PROOFREAD

You used to love the night. Now, you hated it more than anything.

You worked hard all day at an office job that had you thinking often if it was worth quitting it or not before always deciding that in today's economy, you needed this job.

So getting home after work should be what you look forward to, right?

You wished.

You would often return home from work in a daze, kicking off your shoes before you fell face first into your sofa, screaming your heart out into the cushions before you would finally go about your night routine: take a shower, cook dinner, clean up, mentally prepare yourself for work tomorrow, and finally sleep. But, as of recently, that last part didn't seem to come to you so easily. You would seemingly toss and turn for hours on end, your body not wanting to give in and let you rest like you ever so desperately wanted.

You would eventually sit up, put on a hoodie and shorts, grab your car keys, and go for a drive. You don't know why you often went for a drive to clear your head before you slept, the idea coming to your head after watching a random late night show and a celebrity talked about doing it. You then became instantly influenced and now it became a habit.

You felt at ease as you passed the street lights at a leisurely pace, some random R&B playing through your car's speakers as you admired the night scenery. You had to hand it to that celebrity; you did feel much calmer than before. You felt like you were in a movie. You often wondered why life couldn't be like this often, why your mind couldn't just let you rest without having to drive around the empty streets. It was as if your mind was searching for something that the empty night roads could only answer.

As you pulled up to a red light, preparing to go home before your thoughts became even deeper, you heard the sound of a familiar rumble of a motorcycle. You turned your head to the side to see a beautiful black motorcycle pull up beside you, the city lights reflecting off of it's surface as a man sat perched on it. You always saw that same motorcycle out during your nightly drives, offering the man a friendly wave before going your separate ways when the light turns green. It somehow comforted you knowing that someone else was up so late, needing a night drive too.

Once you arrived home, you tossed away your keys before dragging your finally tired body back to your bed, getting comfortable back in your sheets before closing your eyes with a small smile on your face as you finally fall asleep.

~.~

"Fuck"

Your voice was just above a whisper as you felt his hands move up your legs, pressing your hips back down against the mattress as his long tongue moves along your wet slit before dipping into you, curling the tip of his tongue as you arch your back. It felt so good, your eyes closing as you feel the man moaning against you, his deep voice praising you as he confidently eats you out. You can't help but grab his hair, your eyes still closed as your legs tighten around his head, your hips rutting against his face as you felt your orgsam approaching quickly.

"Yes, Yes"

Right before your orgsam can fully wash over you, though, your eyes snap open to the sound of your alarm clock letting you know that it's time to get ready for work. You sigh before tossing your head back in frustration against your pillow, your body slowly calming down from the heat of your dream before you sit up again. As you ran your hands through your hair, your mind flashes back to the dream you were ripped from. It all felt so real, yet not.

"I can't keep having this dream"

You've been having the same dream with the same mystery man for a while now. All you could remember seeing was his muscular arms and his muscular chest and legs, but never his face. You could even remember his blonde hair, but that's it. You often wondered why you never saw his face, but knew that whoever your mind had conjured up was good with his tongue and hands, always driving you so close to an orgsam right before you woke up.

You sighed as you finished getting ready for work, your mind (and body) thinking about that man and the night dream you were going to have again.

~.~

"Maybe he was someone I had seen in a movie before?"

You sat in your car once more as you tried to figure out who that man was. You didn't even try to sleep tonight, deciding to go straight for the night drive so that you could get more sleep. You bit your lip as the sunset slowly turned into night as you drove, your mind busy as you tried to piece together the man in your mind from the parts of him you did see; his muscular arm and biceps, his veiny hands, his blonde hair, his strong body...

"Shit, really?" You cursed softly as you noticed your fuel light come on, letting you know that you need to stop and get fuel soon. You sigh, turning into a nearby gas station. Maybe you were just over thinking it, maybe he was just some wet fantasy your mind thought of out of thin air. You move out of your car, going inside to pay before returning outside.

As you walk outside, you suddenly notice the same jet black motorcycle you always see out on the road at night parked in front of your own car at a different pump. This was your first time seeing it so up close and in an actual light other than the faint street lights and moonlight. You couldn't help but admire it as you walked closer, noticing how clean yet sleek it looked. You didn't understand why you were so suddenly interested in the motorcycle, but you couldn't look away. You slowly reached out to touch it, the tip of your finger moving along the seat as you felt a shiver move through you.

"Do you like it?" You jump at the sound of a deep male voice, turning to face the man, an apology already half way out of your lips when your eyes meet the face of the nightrider.

You couldn't help but pause when you met his face, softly cursing under your breath as your mind pieced together where you mind was getting the random man in your dreams from. You admired his tight white tshirt, his muscular arms and biceps on display along with his tight jeans. Your eyes moved around him, noticing his gloved hands, one hand holding his black leather wallet while the other held his matching black helmet. When your eyes soon moved back up to meet his eyes again, you noticed his blonde hair blowing in the wind, one of his eyebrows raised at your silence and lack of response.

He was the man your mind had kept putting into your dreams.

You jumped again when he cleared his throat, another apology leaving your lips as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the memories of your wet night dreams, your mind now placing his face on the figure that was often in between your legs.

You needed help.

While you apologized, the man chuckled, shaking his head before he walked closer to you, placing his helmet down onto his bike handle before placing both of his hands onto your shoulder, waiting till you opened your eyes before he spoke, his voice deep as he says "It's alright. You can admire it all you'd like, princess."

You felt your knees almost buckle at not only his voice, but the way he called you princess. Your mind then flashed back to a dream where you faintly heard his voice as he kissed up your thighs, whispering "you look so pretty for me, Princess. It's time to feel good." You originally thought your mind was just choosing a voice it knew you found sexy, but after hearing it from his mouth, it made you wonder not only when you heard his voice, but how your mind knew to add it to the dream.

"So, you're the woman I keep passing by late at night when I go on my nightly rides, huh?" You snapped out of your thoughts as you nodded, noticing how he was now admiring you car. It wasn't anything too special, but was a pretty white, shinning compared to his dark motorcycle. "Yeah, you must be the guy who always stops at the same stoplight as me right before I go home." You chose to hold back mentioning how he was also the man in your dreams getting your near your orgsam right before you woke up. You didn't want to deal with that embarrassment.

He nodded, his mind flashing back to the many nights he's pulled up by your car, looking over to see you give him a tired yet friendly wave before the light turned green. He always appreciated your kindness, even though you were always so tired. He often felt worried about you, though, sometimes thinking about getting off his bike to check on you, but never doing so. But, now that you were right in front of him, he couldn't help but admire you. You looked so different in the brighter lights than in your dim car and street lights, no, you looked much happier.

You suddenly held out your hand, not wanting this moment to be wasted as you introduced yourself to him. He smiled at you before his larger hand gently cupped yours, shaking it as he said "Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I'm SeungCheol." You smiled at his own smile, both of your hands still holding each others for a bit longer before you slowly removed it from his, laughing softly as SeungCheol let out a small "ah" in embarrassment before chuckling. He seemed so sweet despite what you may have thought due to his choice of vehicle. You needed to learn to not judge a book by it's cover, you guessed.

As you both began to pump gas, you both made small talk, getting to know one another and enjoying each other's company. It felt nice, almost natural as you both spoke. Soon SeungCheol finished pumping gas into his motorcycle, moving to lean against the pump as you both continued talking. He felt no need to speed off as no one else was there and he wanted to get to know you more. He smiled as you laughed at something he said before he decided it was time to ask the question that was on his mind since he first saw you out driving at night.

"So, Y/N, if you don't mind me asking, why do you drive around so late at night?" You hummed at his question before you shrugged, turning to face him as you put your gas pump back. "As of lately, I haven't really been able to sleep well, so I just started driving. It helped me clear my head, so I guess I just kept doing it I guess."

"Is it because of your dreams?" At SeungCheol's question, you instantly shake your head, making him laugh. If only he knew, you thought.

"So you're just trying to get tired? Ah, well you must have some great dreams then" SeungCheol watched your face at his words, noticing how your cheeks seem to heat up at his comment. He couldn't help but feel more interested, a playful smile moving onto his lips as he asks "what are you dreaming about anyways, Y/N?" You at first don't respond, not wanting to give away that you had been dreaming about him for the past couple of weeks.

"What about you? Why do you ride so late at night?" You shake off his question with one of your own, making him chuckle. He obliges, though, saying "Well, I like how empty the roads are at that time. I sometimes get a bit anxious about riding around so many people or high traffic areas, so I just ride then." You nod, meeting his eyes again with a smile before he walks closer to you, a small smirk on his face as he notices your eyes moving to once again look over his body. There was something about you that he couldn't shake, it made him feel excited, hot, wanted.

"So, are you going to tell me what you've been dreaming about or do I have to guess, Y/N?" You couldn't help but bite you lip as SeungCheol continued to walk closer to you, making you back up against your car. You suddenly felt your back become pressed against your car as his strong chest pressed against yours, his gloved hands moving to press against your hips, pressing you fully against the car as his eyes met yours, slowly darkening as he repeated his question, this time slower. You felt your body heat up due to the contact and the way his eyes met yours, your mind constantly thinking back to your dreams. With how forward he was being and with how good his hands felt on your hips, your mind felt all too cloudy to even think about what you said next.

"How about I show you?"

~.~

The front door swung open as your lips once again locked with SeungCheol's, his helmet and riding jacket becoming discarded somewhere on the floor as your hands grip his face, pulling him into you as he kicks the door to your house closed. You felt like you were in one of your nightly wet dreams, your mind feeling light headed as his hands roughly gripped your thighs before picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his tongue meets yours, the kiss becoming loud and wet as he gruffly asks against your lips "bedroom. Where, angel?"

You pointed in the direction of your bedroom, not even bothering to remove your lips from his as he chuckles, carrying you in the direction of the bedroom, kicking the door open before placing you against the wall. SeungCheol felt like he had to feel more of you, not even bothering to carry you to the bed, beginning to strip you against the wall as his lips moved down your neck. You gasp as his teeth meets your neck before his dreamy tongue moved to soothe the bite, his hands moving to toss away your top and sweats, leaving your pressed against him wearing nothing but your underwear.

"Damn, baby, you should've just told me you were just dreaming about me like this. I would've pleased you right there in your car" You moaned at his words, his kisses moving across your neck before he pulled back, pulling you up higher against the wall with a deep grunt before diving back in to press kisses against the tops of your breasts. "I wouldn't have made you wait till you fell asleep to feel so good, baby"

"Fuck, SeungCheol" you gasp as he carried you finally over to your bed, placing your back in the middle of the bed before his lips met yours again, his hands busy with removing your underwear. He took his time kissing down your body, moving to lay his stomach against the bed as his hands moved up your bare legs, spreading out your legs for him before he pressed a small kiss against your clit, making you hum. "Tell me, princess, did I make you feel good in your dream?" His voice sounded so deep as he hooked his arms underneath your legs, keeping you open for him as he blew onto your wet pussy. You squirmed at the feeling making him chuckle deeply before he began to press kisses and bites to the inside of your thighs, slowly moving up your thigh before switching to the other. He wanted to make you wait and enjoy every moment of this. He wanted to make all your dreams come true and make new ones too.

"Did I lick and bite your thighs just like this baby?" he asked against your legs, waiting for you to give him a nod before he whispers "good girl" against your thighs before he moved closer to your pussy once more, taking in a moment to admire how you look before he says "I'm about to make you feel so much better than in that dream, baby"

You have no chance at reacting as his tongue moves up your pussy slowly before he moans at your taste, his tongue soon moving in-between your lips as he takes his time tasting you, getting to know your wet pussy to make sure he made you feel so good. He moaned as he felt your hands moving into his hair, gripping his blonde locks as your hips try to move, trying to feel more of his tongue in you as you moaned loudly. He was right, this did feel so much better than in your dreams. You gasped as his tongue slowly pushed into you, curling the tip of his tongue as his thumb moved to play with your clit, your louder moan of his name echoing in the bedroom loudly as he fucked you with tongue.

"That's it, princess, feel good on my tongue. Use my fucking tongue and face" Your back arched a bit as his tongue moved faster before allowing you to ride his tongue until he felt your moans become slightly higher pitched, showing him that you were close. He chose to speed up, his thumb that was on his clit moving faster as you came. SeungCheol watched as your back arched, his tongue leaving you for a moment before his tongue moved to clean you up, not wanting to leave anything behind. Your hand grip his hair tighter as your eyes closed, your legs still shaking due to the force of the orgsam before your felt one of his hands moving slowly up your stomach, pressing down against your body. Your eyes opened as you felt his hand keeping your body firmly against the bed while his now messy hair and face resting against your shaking thighs, a small smirk on his wet lips.

"I need you to stay still for me, babygirl. I gotta prep you for me, okay?" He smirked, pressing another kiss to your clit, chuckling as he heard you whimper his name. "Angel, if you can't handle that, what makes you think that you can handle more than that, even my cock?" He smirked more, his free hand moving slowly along the outside of your thighs, enjoying how your legs seem to shake more at his touch. "So shaky, baby"

He chuckled before pushing his middle finger slowly into you, watching as your back arched at the feeling. He gently cooed you before he leaned down to press another kiss to your lips, giving you the opportunity to taste yourself on your lips. "I gotta stretch you out for me. If you can't handle my fingers, what makes you think you can handle my cock?"

"I can handle it, SeungCheol. I know I can" Your voice came out so desperate, so whinny, so hot

How could SeungCheol not think you could take it after you did all of that.

"Oh my fucking god, SeungCheol" You gasped, your hips raising slightly under his arm as he adds another finger into you, both of his fingers curling immediately in you as he begins to fuck you with his fingers, his mouth wrapping around your clit. "You're doing so good, angel, just take some more, ok?" He doesn't wait for you to respond, though, adding one more finger before he picks up his pace, his mouth busy with licking and sucking on your clit. He knew you could take it all. You had been dreaming about him all this time, so surely your body was willing to adjust to him, especially when he's hitting your spot so good.

As your hands gripped the sheets, his eyes moved up to watch your chest rise and fall at a fast pace, your next orgsam about to wash over you as he continues to hit your spot, giving your clit a harsher suck before he sits up, diving his fingers into you repeatedly as you cum. As you grip his broad shoulders, he watches you face as you slowly come down from your high, his fingers slowly leaving your wet pussy as some of your juices leak from inside you, pooling underneath you on the sheets.

You felt like you were on a cloud that was past cloud 9, your mind completely fuzzy as SeungCheol placed a kiss onto your cheek before standing up from the bed. Before you could whine at his body leaving yours, you notice him slowly removing his top, showing off his large peck and toned body before he removes his bottoms, tossing them away somewhere in the room before he removed his boxers, finally letting you see the object of all of your dreams.

"Is it just as good as you dreamed about, baby?" He asks with a charming smile, climbing on the bed in between your legs before he flips you over. You nod, feeling drunk as your cheek rests against a nearby pillow. You couldn't even form words at this point, feeling as if you could drift away, which SeungCheol chuckles at. His hand moves up your back slowly, feeling every curve of your back before he reaches your head, cupping your jaw from behind as you feel him press his hard cock against your ass. "No falling asleep baby. I still need to make your dreams come true." You nodded, SeungCheol chuckling at your distant look in your eyes.

"Did I already fuck you dumb, angel? Maybe I need to fuck you to you have no choice but to sleep, huh?" He presses as few kisses to your back before he grabs your hips, helping you move onto your knees before his hand move back to your back, pushing your upper body back against the bed as he says "Gotta fuck this pussy just right baby. Gotta show you that this is all not a dream, baby no" You can tell he's no longer even talking to you, slowly pushing into you. As he does, you moan loudly into the pillow, SeungCheol's next words coming out in a mixture of a moan and growl.

"Gotta fuck you better than dream me did. Dream me doesn't got shit on me, baby"

Your mind barely had time to put together SeungCheol's words as he began to move his hips, starting off slow so that you could feel every single inch of him before he sped up, his hand moving to press against your back. Your moans were muffled into the pillow as you tried to for words and thoughts, but with how he was fucking you, there was no way you could. Heck, you didn't even want to know what you would even say to him.

SeungCheol was more concerned with fucking you just right, his grunts and moans mixing with yours as he wrapped his hand around your hair, tugging your head to the side so more of your moans could be heard and not hidden in the pillow. At the sight of your dreamy look in your eyes and your mouth open as your pleasured moans slip from your mouth, he chuckles before cooing "That's it, baby. Am I fucking you dumb? You seem to like how I got you right now. Am I better in real life than in your dream?"

At your louder moans and how your cunt fluttered around his cock, he can't help but let out a strained chuckle before a louder moan, smashing his lips into yours as he begins to speed up. He could tell you were getting close, but he wanted to make you feel so good.

He pulled out for a moment, flipping you over to your stomach so he could see your face before pushing back into you before he kept moving faster, his hand moving to grip your jaw before he met your eyes with a dark eye before he says "that's it, Y/N, come on. Cum for me, cum all over this cock" As you came, your back arched as his lips moved to kiss your cheek and stomach before his own pleasure washes over him, stuffing his face into your neck as he cums. As SeungCheol presses himself against you, he kisses your neck before he whispers "that felt so good."

He soon pulls back to see your face, chuckling when he sees your dazed look and how satisfied you look. He smiles before kissing you again, rubbing your arms before he slowly pulled out, going to grab a rag before cleaning you up. You felt your body react to every movement or touch, your body super sensitive yet buzzing with the afterglow. You never felt so good.

SeungCheol soon returned to your side, laying down next to you as you immediately move to cuddle against him. After a few moments of silence, he soon clears his throat before saying "I, uh, don't know if you're asleep or not, but I'd love to take you out sometime."

"I'd love to" you hummed, pressing a kiss to his chest peck before falling back against his body, feeling sleep slowly move over you as you feel SeungCheol's lips press against your forehead before whispering "Goodnight, Y/N. Dream about me."

[ohmytyong]

[00:21]

PAIRING: boyfriend!jaehyun x female!reader

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: pet names, kissing

WC: 0,5k

A/N: this is proof that i'm the biggest hopeless romantic to ever exist

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

with the city night life spread ahead of you and under the clear starry night, you rested your elbows on the window frame of your apartment, looking down at the people waiting for the midnight bus that would take them home.

the crispy november breeze flew through your entire body, causing the little hairs on your arms to raise up and your jaw was now clenched. winter was slowly but steadily making its appearance and this made you hug yourself as a protective reaction to its presence.

the cold sensation did not last long, however, as you felt a piece of fabric wrapping around your shoulders and the heat of another body radiating behind you.

you turned your head to meet eyes with your boyfriend jaehyun, his arms on either side of you, hands resting on the window pane. you smiled at him and he leaned his head downwards, reaching for the side of your neck to leave a set of soft wet kisses on the cold surface of you skin.

"you looked cold, so I brought you my jacket" his voice smooth and warm sounded like a mumble between each kiss. you touched the top of his both hands and squeezed them dearly. "thank you, handsome" you said, placing a kiss on his cheek.

jaehyun detached his lips from your neck, only to rest his chin in the crook between your neck and shoulder, moving his hands around your waist so as to hold you tighter and closer to his body.

you tried to turn your head to the side, so much so that you could study his expression. his chiseled features, moon-kissed and casted with a veil of calmness, faced the outside world in front of him, the lights of the city street reflecting on the irises of his bright eyes.

jaehyun felt your stare on him and fixed his gaze towards you, smiling with a smirk. "what are you looking at, love?" he asked with a low voice that hinted a teasing tone.

"nothing" you muttered with a bright smile spread across your face.

jaehyun chuckled and brushed his lips against your cool cheek in an attempt to plant a kiss, then turned his head to the front and averted his gaze to the busy nightlife.

the two of you sat there looking at the city lights and trying to listen to people's conversations, but the distance was too long and you could only recognize a few words here and there by the people who spoke more loudly.

the sound of the bus wheels creaking on the road was heard and everyone stepped inside the old vehicle to go home. and as you stood there and looked at them, you smiled at yourself because you already knew that, at that exact moment, right between the arms of the man you most loved, you were, in fact, home.

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @matchahyuck @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @doieslefttoe @uwuheeseungie @thoughtfulqueenlady @markleefuckme

join the taglist here !!

[newtsniffles]

BETWEEN YOUR EYES

the jackal x oc

chapter one

WARNING: this fanfiction will contain mature scenes, violence, and coarse language.

word count: 1.6k, a short set-up chapter. enjoy!

if you enjoy this fanfiction, please don't forget to interact.

CHAPTER ONE: ONE SHOT, ONE KILL.

Grace McCarron loved the smell of coffee. Especially in the early mornings when the sun hadn’t risen and the streets were still wet with last night’s rain. It irked her though, how people could be so loud at such an early hour. Couldn’t people just be quiet? Talk at a normal volume, it was only the hour of six. 

The blonde’s fingers rap against the counter in a steady rhythm. Her expression reads neutral as she watches the customers enjoying their breakfasts, discussing work projects and gossip. It was all so mundane, every word they said was capable of drawing a yawn from her lips. Nobody is interesting this morning.

With a sigh, Grace reaches under the counter for the remote, flicking on the television in the corner. Her head tilts, blue eyes sparkling with intense focus at the headline written across the lower third of the screen. 

Manfred Fest assassinated.

Grace’s eyes narrow, something interesting. Her attention is only being drawn away by the sound of a customer waiting to order. A young woman, brunette, she’d be mid-twenties. 

‘It’s horrible isn’t it?’ The woman says.

‘I’m on the fence,’ Grace admits. ‘What can I get for you?’

‘A latte, please… You don’t think it’s bad?’

‘That a fascist offended somebody and got himself killed? Not really.’ Grace presses the coffee, clicking it into the machine before foaming the milk. With practised expertise, she fills a takeaway cup with the espresso and milk, creating lines of art on the top. 

‘I don’t know much about foreign politics,’ the woman taps her card.

‘Take it from me, be glad he won’t be the new German Chancellor.’

Grace’s attention is brought back to the screen as the customer walks away with her latte. A single sniper shot from a distance of over three kilometres. Impressive. More than. The corners of her lips tilt into a small grin, leaning back onto the counter with crossed arms, she watches the news report.

It had started raining again, like it usually did in London. The sound of tires driving over the slick roads was comforting to Grace. Red brake lights reflected in the puddles by the footpath, headlights and street lamps casting a warm hue despite the darkening sky. She loved the rain, the sound of it pattering against whatever surface. However, it did make it hard to get a decent line of sight. Her lips quirked slightly, a lover of challenge. One blue eye closed, a glint of thrill in the other as it stared through the scope of a personalised sniper rifle. 

Sleeping with the blinds open, Grace could never understand it, but it certainly helped her in this case. The target laid across his bed, his thumb scrolling across the screen of his phone. The lights in his apartment were on, everything visible. He was so stupidly vulnerable. She could’ve shot six times over by now, but would there be any fun in that? Her finger taps against the trigger as she recalls the deviance of the sleazy man. The world would be better off without him.

BANG. One shot, one kill.

Grace pulls her head back from the sniper, standing up, she starts to pack down the rifle. Her eyes don’t leave the window of the now-deceased target as she unscrews the barrel, packing it all into a case. She hurries downstairs, unlocking her car and driving off swiftly. Chances are nobody would find him until morning, but it is still safer to get away as quickly as possible.

The internet cafe was practically dead at this hour, a lone stranger or two.  It had started to rain outside again, Grace could hear it on the roof, see it on the windows. It was also a Wednesday, unlikely that it would be busy. She plugs a USB into one of the many PCs, accessing Dark Core.

Access Chatroom:

Username: xxxfOxTROT22971x$

Password: ************

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___ job complete.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___he will not bother you anymore.

FPOxENT779X___thank you.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___yes.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908 one new message.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Big admirers of your work. Have project we think will interest you. Superlative remuneration.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i don’t work for money.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___What do you work for?

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___enforcement of consequence.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___There is a man who needs to face consequences.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Can’t talk here.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Will you meet in person?

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___where?

Grace sits back in her seat, her finger traces her bottom lip as she waits for a response. This was an odd one, but they seem insistent. For them to know of her work, they had to have communication with sources she had helped in the past.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Will make a transfer of good will. Location attached.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___tomorrow morning.

Logout.

A sum of $10,000 has been transferred to your account.

A transfer message has been left.

Grace shuts down the computer, taking out the USB, she packs it into her handbag. Her lips quirk as she exits the internet cafe. Something new, something interesting, a potential challenge. This calls for a stop at that delicious dessert bar down the road from her apartment, a nice meringue or maybe some ice cream would do.

For once the sun was out in London, albeit only slightly, but it did still make Grace look less ridiculous for wearing a cap and sunglasses. She notices a woman sitting on the park bench, must be her. Her black coat flutters behind her in the wind as she sits beside the other woman.

‘Who are you?’ Grace asks.

‘Irish?’ The woman responds with a question.

‘And you’re American.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why am I here?’ Grace leans back against the park bench, crossing her legs. ‘What did he do? Was it assault, did he hurt the kids…?’

‘Ulle Dag Charles.’

‘UDC… the River man?’ 

‘Yes,’ She answers.

‘I don’t see how exposing the rich is a crime,’ Grace grins. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve wasted my time.’

‘If he releases River, it’s not just the rich who fall. All secret networks will be exposed, you’ll be discovered.’ The woman turns to face Grace, trying to get a look at her expression. She quickly realises it’s impossible with the cap and the darkly tinted glasses. ‘You’ll go to prison for a long time.’

‘If that’s the case, hidden networks of paedophiles, rapists… it will all be exposed. You think they’ll go after little old me?’

‘I think even after exposing the rich, they’ll still have the power, and they’ll still be protected.’

‘You’re very insistent,’ Grace observes. ‘Why me?’

‘Because you always get the job done.’

Sighing, Grace looks up at the cloudy sky, the sun peaking out slightly. She sucks in a breath of the fresh park air before responding. ‘This job is a bit harder than the others…’

‘Which is why we’ve hired a second… professional, such as yourself.’

‘First, you ask me to eliminate a man for wanting to expose the rich, and now you tell me I’d have to work with another person?’

There is a silence that passes momentarily between the two women as they stare each other down.

‘River is good for nobody. You will go to prison.’

‘No, I won’t.’ Grace smirks knowingly. ‘Who is the other person?’

‘He is one of the best, alongside yourself.’

‘Who is he?’

‘I don’t know his identity…’ She answers. ‘He took out Fest.’

‘Ah.’ Grace’s lips immediately quick upwards, a grin taking over her expression. She stands up, hands in pockets, she stares down at the woman still sitting. ‘And what do they call you?’

‘Zina.’

‘Zina… I don’t kill innocent men. Give me one good reason to take this job, and not because of River.’

‘...’ The American woman sits there contemplating for a moment, her mind working a million miles an hour. ‘You don’t have to take the shot. We need you to… babysit.’

Grace lets out a loud chuckle, ‘babysit?’

‘It seems our other hire is caught up in a few… troubles after the fest situation. We need you to ensure he gets the job done, and if he fails to, you step in and finish it.’

‘Well… let’s hope he doesn’t fail.’

‘Is that a yes to the job?’ Zina sits up straight.

‘He is aware, I assume?’

‘He will be made aware.’

‘Get me in contact,’ Grace turns around and walks away, her coat once again billowing behind her.

It was another early morning, three days after Grace’s meeting with Zina. She sat behind the counter at the cafe, it was a very quiet morning. A Sunday morning, not many were up and about. She opened her laptop, plugging in her USB.

Access Chatroom:

Username: xxxfOxTROT22971x$

Password: ************

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___who are you?

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___should i not be asking you?

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i do not need babysitting.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___ah.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___the other ‘professional’

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___nice shot.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___refuse the job.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i don’t think i will.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i get bored sometimes.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___then stay out of the way.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i do the job i’m hired for.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___don’t get into trouble, and i won’t have to step in and clean it up.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i don’t need anybody to clean up.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___a little birdy told me otherwise.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i am not the enemy.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i don’t work in teams.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___there is a first time for everything.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i’m not here to steal your job.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i’m here to cover your ass so you can get it done.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___you said you don’t work in teams, that means you have no connections.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___you will fuck up, you will go to jail.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___Munich.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i will send the hotel details.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___see you there.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

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taglist: @ysabay @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm @fawkes5050 @our-future-is-up-to-us-2 @itszara-theurbanwitch @wintercrows @rosie-read-that @kpopgirlbtssvt

[jobean12-blog]

In It for the Long Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 1,656

Summary: Joel is out for the night and when he returns early and wants you to leave work and come home you know something isn't right.

Author's Note: Just because I love him and missed him and this seems like something that could really happen when you're with a biker. PS our sweet little black kitten Ink is here too- she's getting big and just loves Joel of course! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, little angst sprinkled in here and there, mentions of blood but very light

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Joel just text me that he’s here.”

You look at your friend Jade with worried eyes.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t he going to come in?” she asks.

“He said he can’t come in. He wants to know if I can leave now.”

“Of course you can babe,” Jade says quickly. “Dan and I will be fine tonight.”

“Are you sure…I don’t know what’s goin…”

“Don’t worry,” Jade assures you. “Just go to him. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You nod with a hard swallow and rush to the back to gather your things, texting Joel as you go that you’ll be right out.

Your legs are slightly shaky as you approach the door, a feeling of dread weighing you down with each step.

At first you don’t see him but then you hear the rev of his engine and your gaze is drawn to his bike. He’s parked across the street with his headlights off.

“Joel?” you question when you reach his bike.

He holds his arms out for you and you rush into them, burying your face in his neck.

“What’s going on?” you mumble into his skin.

“Let’s go home,” he says quietly.

You pull back to look at him and let out a gasp.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine darlin.’ Really I am. Just need a little help gettin’ cleaned up.”

Your eyes instantly well with tears and you lift your finger to gently brush it across his bruised cheek.

“Aw angel, no tears. I promise it’s nothin’.”

“But Joel…you’re bleeding and bruised…”

The tears roll down your cheeks, hot and wet, and his hands cup your face, thumbs sweeping across your skin to wipe them away.

“Are you ok to drive? Should we take the car? Do you need a doctor?”

Your questions come out in a rush and your voice is high pitched with worry.

He shakes his head no and the side of his mouth twitches with a smile.

“No. Just need you.”

You study him, your eyes lingering on his face until you whisper, “ok, let’s go home.”

He takes his helmet from the handlebars and secures it on your head before unzipping his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Let’s zip this up. It’s chilly tonight,” he says.

“Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?”

“You always do darlin’.”

He kisses you softly on the side of the mouth and then helps you onto the back of his bike.

The ride home is short, less than ten minutes, but in that time the wind picks up and sky opens up with rain.

As you near the house the headlights from his bike reflect off the growing puddles on the street and you shiver against his back.

He pulls over and kills the engine, holding out his hand for you to hop off. He tucks you protectively under his arm and walks you to the door.

“I hope you didn’t get too wet angel,” he says.

“I’m fine,” you say as you walk in and turn on the light.

You turn to him and fresh tears fill your eyes.

“Let me just get us towels and the first aid kit. Don’t move.”

You rush off to the bathroom just as Ink hops off the ledge of the front window. She meows at Joel and then starts to rub between his legs.

“Hey, you,” he says as he picks up the small black cat.

Her tiny pink nose delicately explores his chin before she reaches up with a paw and softly presses it to his cheek.

“Don’t be worried like your mama. I’m fine,” he tells the cat.

“She knows you’re hurt,” you say when you return and find the two of them standing by the door staring at each other.

You take his free hand and walk him toward the couch.

“You might have to set her down for a minute. I want to get your wet shirt off.”

He puts the cat down on the couch and then grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Wait,” you say quietly. “Let me. Please.”

He drops the material and looks at you with big brown eyes.

“Ok angel. Whatever you want.”

“Lift your arms,” you instruct him as you start to peel his shirt up and off.

Inch by inch his wet skin is revealed, his tattoos along with it and you find yourself inspecting every inch of him for more injuries before gently pressing the towel to his chest. You do nothing to hide your shameless perusal of him and he’s clearly enjoying it, his eyes sparkling and his lips turned up into a boyish smirk.

“Anything else hurt?”

“Nah, but you can keep checkin’ all ya want.”

He winks at you when you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Ok sit and tell me what happened.”

He sits with a plop and extends his arm to pet Ink while you start to work off his boots.

“I can do that angel, it’s no…”

When your eyes meet his he clamps his mouth shut, only opening it again to explain that some out of town biker gang had started some trouble with him and the boys. No of the boys were hurt more than some bumps, scrapes and bruises but the other guys weren’t as lucky.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t any worse,” you sigh. “I got so scared when you said you wanted me to come home and all. I figured you would come in and have a drink…”

“I know darlin.’ I’m sorry I scared you. I knew I couldn’t go in the bar lookin’ like this though.”

“It’s ok. Just promise me you’ll always be careful.”

“Always,” he whispers.

After you have his boots off and dry socks on you stand and straddle his lap, settling your knees on either side of his waist and taking a smaller towel to run through his hair.

You then comb your fingers through the wet strands and give it a slicked back style. He raises a brow when you smirk and drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

“What?” he asks.

“Looks really good.”

“Yeah angel? Even with the blood?”

“Somehow it makes it even hotter…but I’m still so upset you’re hurt.”

“I’m ok.”

“You keep saying that.”

“But I am darlin.’ Honestly, couldn’t be better at the moment.”

His hands slide along your thighs and then settle on your waist. He pulls you closer and runs his nose along the column of you neck to breathe you in.

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp. “I have to patch you up first.”

“Mm hm,” he murmurs as his lips press to your skin and his fingers dance higher.

You flatten your palms on his chest and give him a light shove, giggling when he looks at you with pouty lips.

After a soft kiss you get the first aid kit and start to clean the cut above his eye and the one on his lip. When you press the antiseptic to the wound he winces, leaving his eyes closed as you continue to carefully wipe each spot.

You inspect every area of his face, especially focusing on the skin beneath his beard, lovingly caressing the gray spots as you go. He relaxes into your touch and you let your fingers gently trace his features.

“All clean,” you whisper.

You hand him the small ice pack you got from the freezer. “Hold this on your cheek.”

“But my hands are busy,” he sighs.

His hands graze the skin beneath your shirt, calloused thumbs caressing the softness before they inch higher.

“You only need one hand for this,” you lightly chide.

His eyes pop open and he gives you a stern look. “Fine.”

You bat your lashes at him and wait until he has the ice pack pressed to his cheek.

“Just until I finish up.”

You put medicine on the cut above his eye and one butterfly stitch then clean up the dried blood on his knuckles.

“You must have gotten a pretty good punch in.”

You can see his muscles tense when you press the pad to his bruised knuckles.

“You bet I did angel,” he boasts. “And that’d be plural…punches.”

When you meet his eyes he winks again and throws you a smug grin.

You kiss it right off his lips then smudge some medicine on his knuckles. He immediately puts down the ice pack and places his hands back on your body.

“That could probably stay on a bit longer,” you tsk.

“Later,” he murmurs.

Ink walks along the back of the couch and sits herself down right behind Joel. She blinks at you several times then starts to swat at the curls of hair at the back of his neck.

“She likes them almost as much as I do,” you tease.

“She’s just wantin’ attention,” he grumbles. “Gets that from you too.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare and then give him one more once over.

“Think I did a pretty good job,” you state.

“I feel brand new,” he says as he drags you closer and smooths his hands along the curve of your back.

When your lips meet you’re mindful of his cut but he doesn’t seem to care at all and dances one hand higher until he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you harder.

He moans into your mouth and tugs at the hem of your shirt. Your hands delve into his damp hair and then slide down to his shoulders. His bare skin is warm and when you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers you ease away and battle with the reminder of what happened, your eyes glassy.

His large hand cradles your cheek and he smooths his nose along your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Darlin’,” he coos. “It’s all right. I’m fine…let me prove it to you.”  

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

[eilaafterhours]

HEATED [Xavier]

Content: Smut, Misuse of Evols, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/Sub Undertones, Mating Press, Xavier has a Big Dick, Penis in Vagina Sex, Breeding Kink, Coming Inside, Come Eating, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Creampie, Lactation Kink, AFAB Reader, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity! 2130 blocked and counting :)

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

You thought that the situation with the cats would stop at the ears, tail and slight change of mannerisms. However, despite this being a sudden yet common occurrence, your Evol resonated with the cat’s, and now you had a grown man in heat ready to bend you over in the streets. 

You struggled to get him home, but managed. The moment you closed the door, he dragged you into the the living room and threw you on the couch. Dropping to his knees, he shoved the skirt of your dress away, revealing the wet patch of your panties and stockings. 

“Can I? Please?” He asked as he nuzzled against your thigh, hands fumbling with his belt. 

You wanted to move to the bedroom, to give him more room to move, but seeing his dick already hard and red as pre-cum drooled from the tip. 

“Okay, sure. Lemme just—” The second you gave him consent, a quick flash of light blinded you, and your heated lower half suddenly felt a lot cooler. “Xavier—fuck!” He had already thrown your legs over his shoulder before shoving his tongue in your cunt. 

“You’re so wet. All for me…” Whispered to your glistening folds, followed by the filthy symphony of your folds conducted by his tongue.

You couldn’t hold back from singing for him. “Mmmh…fuc—ah…” 

The heated haze that clouded his mind was not indulgent. He was not eating you out as a means of foreplay, but because he needed to get you off. He needed his cum to mix with yours, be he knew that he would not last in your tight heat. 

So when you did come, he wasted no time in adjusting your position. Though, he still had enough sense to ask for your permission (despite having you on your back, with your thighs pressed against your chest). 

“Can I come inside?” He was already rubbing against your folds, quickly gathering enough of your slick to easily glide against it. “Please, Master?”

His thick tail was thumping against the edge of the couch. His cat ears were flat against his head, while his human ones were a burning red along with the rest of his face. He was pouting, and you could have sworn that the moonlight had reflected against the tears lining his waterline. 

How could you ever say no to him, when you were oh so very willing?

You beckoned him closer with a finger, “Come closer, Xavier.” Once he was in reach, you snatched him by the tie, licking the shell of his red ear before commanding him. “Please your master well, Xavier.”

He whimpered, his bucking against you, and it took everything in you to not ruin your moment and moan. That all fell apart the moment he entered, however. You understood why Xavier threw his head back and groaned—that was his heat working on him. 

You, on the other hand, did not expect the change in size. Not that you were complaining—of course not—but how could something so big slide in so easily. 

There was no rhythm or reason to the movement of his hips. He was simply racing to reach his peak. It wasn’t a far race, since he had patiently taken care of you before himself.  

The snap of his hips were pounding sloppily into when he asked, “I wanna come inside—can I? Please, Master?” 

“Ah—Are you asking to breed your master, Xavier?” Your hands found his cat ears, smirking as they fluttered between your fingertips. “Shouldn’t I, as your master, be breeding you?” His words became incoherent, but you’re sure you heard a “yes, please” in there somewhere. 

You shelved the thought for now, instead granting him mercy. 

“Fill me ‘til I’m dripping.”

Finally, with your permission, did he come. Pushing himself as deep as he could, he pressed against the spot that had you breathless. Even after you had calmed from your high, he was still coming, and coming, and coming. His body made sure to follow your command to as instructed. 

But neither of you were done yet.

Far from it. 

While partaking in your combined ambrosia, his fingers played you for more. 

“Does Master’s pussy love me?” He pulled away, then pulled your folds open, watching your cunt pulse around nothing. He groaned, diving back in. Despite him coming in you, both of you were ready for him to do it again. 

But he wanted more of your juices before he filled you to the brim again.  

Shoving three fingers into your cunt, he curled them, making sure to assault that spongy spot. You didn’t have enough time to realize what exactly he had pulled from you until his mouth had clamped back on your cunt. 

“Xavier, what the fuck—” Your eyes widen. Despite his face being dripping in your slick, his blue eyes were glazed with that heat.

He was not yet satisfied, and you were becoming more sure that you were being influenced by his heat because you weren’t either.

He didn’t even bother wiping the slick from his chin as he aligned himself, but then he paused and blinked.

“...milk…”

Another flash of light and you were completely exposed to him, your dress split in two on the floor (the stockings were staying on, however). Now, he was sitting up against the couch with you on his dick (when the hell had that happened).

One hand groped one breast while his mouth worked the other, and his hips thrusting into you. 

You were a mess,

but not as much as him.

“If you’re pregnant, you’ll have milk, won’t you, Master?” He sucked hard on your nipple, trying to pull the nonexistent milk from it. “If you get pregnant, can I drink your milk, please?”

You knew you didn’t want kids now in your life, but the way he was talking seriously had you thinking about it. 

Unconsciously, you clench around him. 

And that was your reckoning. 

There was only one thing on his mind:

Feel the heat of your cunt around his dick, let its vice grip milk him for everything he’s got and more.

One good snap of his hips had you coming, and him rambling, damn near praying to you. 

“Yes, fuck! Yes, Master! Milk me for everything! It’s all yours, everything I’ve fucken—fuck! Let me fill you—I’ll make sure my Master is filled up so good…” 

A prayer so deprived that you were sure it was one-of-a-kind.

“Can—shit—can I come in you again? Right after this? I…I wanna see how it looks. Your puffy pussy still wanting more even after I’ve got you leaking out my cum—Fuck! Fuck—Y’ll let me clean you up, right? Let me go done on you one last time?” At the end of that deprived man’s prayer, his gaze met yours.

You closed your eyes, resigned. Who were you to deny your kitten’s deepest desires.

“I want them to hear me beyond the Deepspace, Xavier.”

“Yes, Master.”

Breeding Kink with no uterus? More likely than you think!

Now that my uterus is gone, you'll probably be reading more from me from now on (not my own uterus being my ovaries fucking inhibitor LMAO (FUCK THAT UTERUS THO IT WAS TRYING TO KILL ME, THAT BITCH).

Anyway, shout out @/javacat person on Twitter for making me insane. Let's also thank my usual possession for the Master shit to come out, that shit blindsided me (a lot of this fic blindsided me tbfh).

I might try to do something with the other three but DO NOT HOLD ME TO IT.

Anyway, oh wait chile, I just realized I was supposed to quote the last thing he says in his kindled. SEE, SEE! THIS IS HOW BAD THE POSSESSION GETS. Head in fucking hands.

Edit: I'd like to thank my bestie for reminding me to add "Come Eating" tag SKSKSKSKSKSKSK

Masterlist

[nanamis-bigtie]

autumnal walk

↬ ino x afab!reader | lucid love ↬ lucid love masterlist // jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (no excessive body descriptions), piv sex, creampie, exhibitionism, public sex (and yes, you get caught), outdoor sex, sub & bottom reader summary: wearing nothing but a trench coat, you're strolling around the park with your boyfriend word count: 2k a/n: i'm sorry for the long break in posting 😭 i promise i'll catch up as soon as possible. i quite enjoyed writing more pervy approach to ino, i already put a few more kinky ideas with him on a list to eventually try 👀 tag list: @thesacredfanfics

Your boyfriend stares at you intently through his reflection in the window of the vending machine.

The image is dim and a bit blurred, a street lantern behind your backs diffusing it with its orange light, but you can feel its weight, nevertheless. You're scanned inside out, stripped with the gaze only, the trench coat you're wearing already but a laughable barrier. There's nothing underneath, not even underwear, and even if your own reflection appears properly dressed and modest, Takuma's eyes skim along your figure right along his favorite lines, his precision making you feel uneasy in the most delicious, lust-soaked way. 

For him, you're completely naked, and you trust him more than your own eyes.

You tremble, yourself not sure if in excitement, anxiety, or from the cold, inexorably soaking through the light coat. Under other circumstances, it would be perfect for a serene fall evening and a lazy walk through the park, but with nothing else on you bar your boots, you're a one, thin step away from the area where the conditions become uncomfortable. Maybe you're already there but the heat blowing you apart plays into your hands and helps you power through. It's not like it's your first rodeo either, it's become one of your favorite outdoor dates, and you've been impatiently looking forward to them through warm months, when attire necessary for this kind of a play would only raise suspicions instead of blending with surroundings.

"Need a warmup?" Takuma approaches even closer, now nearly glued to your back. As his hips slot flush against your ass, you can feel his own excitement poking at you with great interest. Like your innocent trench coat, his baggy clothes hide all the dirty secrets away from sticky eyes, reserving the delicious bulge for you only.

He's still far from full mast, any extra 'fold' in his pants with ease passing as loose fabric, but he leaves you no doubt that the stop for your favorite instant hot chocolate is the last he allows.

"Maybe a little," your voice is calm and smooth and beaming with a smile, but on the inside you're burning. His arms wrapped around you, warm breath skimming along the side of your jaw and neck, Takuma pours gallons of gasoline into this crazy flame. You're grateful that he's cradling you from behind, you can focus on your drink and on keeping your face straight without worrying about your legs just giving in.

God only knows how badly your knees shake. And there's still quite a distance to do until you reach 'your' bench.

Hot chocolate fixes your morale. It's overly sweet, artificial and warm, exactly as you need right now. You cradle it in your hands right after taking a sip, and take a turn, now facing Takuma and pleasing your eye with his real appearance. From up close, he looks much younger than he is—and so, so innocent, unfitting such a pervert, a man who's fucked you already in dozens of public spaces in your neighborhood.

Well, you're no better, with all that eagerness between wide open legs and nails digging in his back when he's taking you a meter or two away from unsuspecting bystanders.

"Is it good?" Takuma leans close, feigning a kiss, his lips brush against yours when he adds the real question: "Are you as wet as I think you are?"

"Yeah." Sweetness on your tongue and wet trails on the inner side of your thighs don't need any second thoughts.

"Don't make me check." His hand slots below your hip, having your heart skip a beat, but he only pulls you close to steal a sip from the cup. 

He stains your nose with chocolate a second later, such an innocent peck, befitting the middle of the park and company of an elderly couple enjoying their drinks on a bench nearby.

Holding hands, you slowly head towards your spot. Even if lanterns are already on, it's still naturally bright and it's not hard to pass someone on the pavement. The area gradually thins down though, the more you venture into the maze of alleys, the less you run across joggers, dog owners on their last walk of the day, and unlucky salarymen heading home from the overtime, taking a shortcut to the railway station on the other side of park. By the time you finally make it there, the voices and steps you can still hear are just a distant hum.

It's a small playground, an older type, rather secluded even during the rush hours, as the majority of kids prefer the fancy one closer to the entrance from the side of the main street. Here, with only two lanterns supporting the fading sunset, the night has already settled, providing you two comfortable shadows. 'Your' bench is handily placed at the back, almost hidden among the shrubs. They give more privacy during summer, but so early in the fall they still have enough leaves to shield you in case of unwanted company.

There's still a good third of chocolate left in the cup but you toss it into the trash can without a second thought. You crash into each other, nearly tripping over your legs as you take the last few steps together, entangled in limbs and kisses. The bench is hard and cold, uncomfortable with only one fine layer protecting you from the wood, but soon you find a better seat: Takuma pulls you into his lap and hastily unbuttons your coat.

As always, he's far from patient, his hunger for you too great to waste any second now. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your chest, sucks and teases your nipples until they're perky and sensitive, and a simple brush of his thumb against one of them has you mewling, your voice echoing around the empty playground.

"Shhh," he guides your face to slot against the crook of his neck and keeps you there, until you collect yourself. "We don't want to be caught, don't we?"

The way he scolds you, more like an older brother than a lover, would have you soaking through your undies, if only you were wearing them. Instead, a trail of your arousal falls straight into his lap; he inhales sharply through clenched teeth, himself on the brink of a moan, and collects your moisture with a thumb. A simple swipe across your slit makes your thighs shake but you keep your position, just enough to paw him through his pants and to fight with the zipper. Takuma doesn't help you, instead busying himself with marking your neck and chest. He supports you only with one arm pulled around your back, just to maintain the balance and veneer of an appropriate situation. 

We're just a young couple making out on a secluded bench, please don't mind us and just pass by, there's really nothing to look at.

There are indeed people somewhere in the direction you're facing, little you care now whether they're approaching or not. Your senses are full of your boyfriend, of his taste and smell, of his teeth nipping teasingly around your nipples and his strong arm enveloping you close. He lets out a little groan, muffled by your skin, when you finally peel his clothes out of your way and stroke his cock. He's decently hard already and reaches his prime fast, with just a few strokes.

"You have cold hands," he complains and bites you harder , trying to leave a decent hickey, but lacking time and patience to do so. "C'mere, we need to warm you up."

You're guided to wrap your arms around him and lean against his chest as Takuma takes over. His fingers aren't any better, when he slides them between your folds, you have to hide your face against his neck again to stifle the whine. He laughs and uses your own heat to defeat the unexpected temperature play; they're still cool when he slots them deep in you and you grind against them, desperate for more once you've found the long-awaited friction.

"I have something better to ride, you know?" He teases but doesn't allow you to shift your weight and slide off his hand. He stretches you patiently as he listens for possible intruders, his gaze focused over your shoulders. Once you're connected, it will be harder to play innocent, so he awaits a perfect moment, until then deaf to your barely held back cries. Meanwhile, his dick twitches in inattention against your abdomen, precum threatening to stain the skirts of your coat and betraying the real thoughts racing through his head.

He's better at hiding it but he's as pumped as you, maybe even more so with the way his moves change once he's sure no one is going to interrupt you any soon.

"Alright," he breathes into your ear and bites on its shell, until he forces you to make a louder noise. "It's clear. I'm yours."

Seated comfortably and leaning to the back, Takuma spreads his legs to give you the best base. Hooking your calves comfortably under his knees, you straighten and, hands rested against his chest, lift yourself right above his cock. He holds it for you, the other hand sneaking under your coat to grab your hip, and you lose no time, impaling yourself with one smooth move.

Takuma throws his head back, his beanie sliding off his forehead a little and his Adam's apple bobbing as the tries to swallow a groan, "Fuck. How are you always so tight?"

You take one last look around and roll your coat up to your ass, for freedom of movement. Cool air sneaks against your wet thighs and your union when you test the angle and lift yourself a little, so you quickly slot yourself back down, deciding a shallow rhythm is better for today. Takuma's chest shakes with laughter as he helps you make up for the lost inches with upwards thrusts.

"You wanted to do it outside," he teases, his voice husky. "We could go somewhere where wind wouldn't get in our way."

Rolling your eyes, you silence him with a deep kiss. He lets you have the upper hand here but from the shape of his lips you can tell he's still smiling.

Luckily, with the tension building up for hours as you were strolling, naked under your coat, through the city, you don't need much for your pleasure to reach satisfying levels. Being so close, you relentlessly rub your clit against his pubes, a great addition to the race for orgasm against the everlasting risk of getting caught. Just the thought of a possibility sends a new dose of sparks through your nerves, your hole clenching around his cock.

Takuma groans, face half-buried in the crook of your neck, as always following you close. He's right behind when you're reaching your peak, fingers digging sharp into your hip and his thrusts stuttering—just to suddenly freeze.

"Fuck, Y/N, there's— Wait." He tries to force you still, his eyes fixed on something—someone—behind your back.

It's too late for you to stop. If someone is staring, then it's only better; the thought of being watched finally drags you towards the high and you cream around Takuma's cock, a moan sneaking past your hand plastered to your mouth.

You hear someone's steps quickly withdrawing and your boyfriend cursing under his breath right before he fills you up. His hold eases, he lets you slop against him as you both catch your breath—but there's no time for a proper rest, not when you've already been caught once. Your hearts racing and limbs trembling, you both adjust your clothes in hurry.

Before you leave the scene of the crime, you reach for a pocket for tissue, wanting to clean yourself at least a little, but Takuma's hand suddenly catches yours midway.

"Nu-uh, you're walking back home like this," he catches your bottom lip between teeth, nibbling playfully before he leans in for a short but heated kiss. "Let it be a punishment for making me cum in front of that guy."

[whereforarthur]

It's Been Way Too Long

Request: id love a george smut, perhaps one of us have been rlly busy like all summer and barely had any time to see each other so when it gets to september time (ish) we havent realised how much we miss each other

Pairing: George Clarke x Reader

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

*****

“I think I'd miss you even if we never met.” — The Wedding Date

The London skies were a canvas of soft grays and muted blues, hinting at the promise of rain. The bustling streets below were a blur of umbrellas and rushing footsteps. Amidst the thrum of the city, a solitary figure sat on a bench in a small, overlooked park, a patch of green nestled between concrete giants. George Clarke, known to the internet as "The Clarke Cut", was a man of sharp contrasts. His online persona was vibrant, full of life and humor, but in this quiet moment, he was lost in thought, his eyes reflecting the weight of the world.

For months, George had thrown himself into his work, leaving little room for anything else. His YouTube channel had grown exponentially, the demands of content creation an ever-hungry beast that consumed his days and nights. The price of success had been steep, and he felt the cost keenly as he stared at the empty space next to him, where you, or y/n as he liked to call you, should have been. The vividness of your laughter and the warmth of your smile had been replaced by the cold metal of the bench, and the echoes of the city's cacophony.

The first leaves of autumn began to dance around him, a sad ballet of nature's end and rebirth. The chill in the air seemed to mirror the chill in his heart, a stark reminder of the seasons passing and the time lost. You had been his anchor, a steady presence that kept him grounded amidst the chaos. Without you, the city felt like an alien landscape, one he was navigating for the first time without a map.

George pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. The urge to hear your voice washed over him like a wave, but fear held him back. Would you be upset? Would you even have time to talk? With a sigh, he sent a text, keeping it light, hoping it didn't betray the tumult in his soul. "Missing you," it read, with a simple heart emoji. It was all he could manage.

Minutes ticked by, the silence stretching into a symphony of unspoken words. His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It was you. "Miss you too, George," it said, followed by a smiling face with a tear. His heart clenched at the sight. You had felt it too, the distance that had grown between them like an invisible wall.

The rain finally made its appearance, lightly kissing the leaves before turning into a steady rhythm against the pavement. George didn't bother moving, the cool drops a soothing balm on his heated skin. The scent of wet earth and the faint smell of rain-soaked flowers filled the air, a familiar comfort that only heightened his longing for your presence.

As the drops grew heavier, his thoughts grew clearer. He knew what he had to do. Success meant nothing if he couldn't share it with the one who truly mattered. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the path ahead. He had to make time for you, to prioritize what truly made him happy. The rain grew into a crescendo, each drop a beat in the rhythm of his newfound resolve.

Standing up, George tucked his phone away and took a deep breath, the rain soaking his clothes and hair. He'd rearrange his schedule, make the calls, and do whatever it took to bridge the gap that had formed. With a renewed sense of purpose, he stepped into the storm, the cold water mixing with the warmth of his determination. The city around him blurred as he set off in the direction of your flat, eager to feel the warmth of your embrace and to apologize for his neglect. The rain washed away the dust of the summer, leaving behind the promise of a fresh start, a chance to rekindle the flame that had been smoldering between them.

By the time he arrived, the rain had become a downpour, turning the streets into rivers and the air into a thick mist. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing in anticipation. The door to your flat stood before him, a symbol of the comfort and love that waited within. He took a moment to compose himself, wiping the rain from his face before knocking softly, his breath hitching in his chest.

When the door opened, the sight of you took his breath away. You looked tired, your eyes a bit sad, but the moment they met his, a spark ignited, lighting up the room. The silence stretched between them, filled with the unspoken words of regret and longing. Without a word, George stepped inside, closing the door behind him, the sound echoing through the small space like a declaration of intent.

You stood before him, rain-soaked and beautiful, your hair clinging to your face like a veil. The air was charged with tension, the kind that comes from months of missed moments and unspoken truths. He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek, the touch sending a jolt through both of you. Your eyes searched his, looking for reassurance, for a sign that he truly meant it. And in that moment, George knew that he had made the right choice. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both desperate and gentle, a silent promise to never let you go again.

The kiss grew in intensity, a conflagration of passion that had been smoldering for too long. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, as if trying to erase the space that had grown between you. The world outside the flat disappeared, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a dance of love and apology. The rain outside was now a mere backdrop to the symphony of your hearts beating in unison, a testament to the fact that no matter how busy life got, you two were destined to find your way back to each other.

Breaking the kiss, George whispered, "I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in work, I forgot what's truly important."

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, your voice a soft melody that soothed his soul. "I understand. But I missed you. So much."

He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the stray teardrops. "I missed you too. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'd like that."

With the storm outside mirroring the tumult in their hearts, George took your hand and led you to the couch. You sat down together, the fabric warm and welcoming against your cold, wet clothes. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

The sound of the rain grew softer as you talked, sharing stories of the summer's escapades and the moments you'd wished you could have shared. Each word was a thread weaving the fabric of your relationship back together, stronger than before. The warmth of the room began to seep into your bones, chasing away the chill of the rain and the months of separation.

As the conversation lulled, George reached over to the coffee table, picking up a notebook and a pen. He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the words and doodles that chronicled your life together. "Look," he said, pointing to a page filled with sketches of the two of you in various stages of laughter and love. "I want to fill this book with more memories. Starting now."

A blush crept up your cheeks as you took the notebook from him. The promise in his eyes was more than you could have hoped for. With a shaky hand, you wrote, "September 15th - The day George realized what truly matters."

Underneath, he scribbled, "And the day I came home to you."

*****

The moment was filled with the quiet understanding that sometimes life gets in the way, but true love always finds a path back. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle patter, as if it too knew that the storm had passed and that now was the time for growth and renewal.

George's hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that had been building for months. Your bodies pressed closer, the warmth of your skin a stark contrast to the cold fabric that separated you. The rain had made the air thick with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from George's body, his need for you palpable.

Your hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the dampness of his skin and the tautness of his muscles. The sensation sent waves of electricity through you, and you realized just how much you'd missed the simple act of touching him, of feeling his heart race in response to your touch. His hands roamed your body, exploring the curves and valleys that he knew so well, yet somehow felt new and exciting. The rain outside had become a soft, rhythmic backdrop to your reunion, a natural metronome setting the pace of your passion.

As you kissed, you both began to peel away the layers of clothing that had kept you apart, revealing the warmth and desire that had been trapped beneath. Your skin met with a sigh of relief, like two long-lost friends finally reunited. The couch cushions grew soggy with rainwater, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the connection that surged between you, a current more powerful than any storm.

The smell of damp fabric and the gentle scent of your perfume mixed with the musk of passion as you became lost in each other. The storm outside had brought you back together, and now, you were determined to make the most of every moment. The sound of the rain grew fainter as you became more attuned to the sound of your breaths mingling, the beat of your hearts syncing up as one.

George lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The floorboards creaked underfoot, a gentle reminder of the history you shared in this space. You knew every inch of this room, every crevice and corner, but it had never felt more intimate than it did in that moment.

Laying you down on the bed, he hovered over you, his gaze intense and filled with love. The soft light from the streetlamp painted shadows on the wall, playing across your bodies as you moved together in a dance of passion. The thunder outside rumbled in the distance, punctuating the silent promises made between kisses and caresses.

Your bodies intertwined, the coldness of the rain forgotten in the warmth of your love. The room was filled with the sound of the rain, the sighs of pleasure, and the whispers of sweet nothings that meant everything. The storm outside mirrored the intensity of your reunion, each flash of lightning illuminating the passion in your eyes, as if the very sky was celebrating your reconciliation.

The rain grew softer, the thunder a gentle reminder of the tempest you had weathered. As your bodies found their rhythm, the storm outside seemed to mimic your own, building to a crescendo before subsiding into a gentle lull. You lay there, tangled in the warmth of each other's arms, the city of London a silent witness to your love.

In the aftermath of your passion, you both lay still, listening to the fading patter of rain and the steady thrum of each other's hearts. The world outside had continued to turn, but for a brief moment, it had stopped for you both. You knew that from now on, no matter how busy life got, you would always find time for each other, because you had just survived the storm, and the calm that followed was more beautiful than any summer's day.

You leaned up to kiss him softly, tasting the salt of the rain and the sweetness of your shared love. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice a mere breath against his skin.

George smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "For what?"

"For reminding me what's important," you said, your eyes searching his. "For coming back to me."

He kissed you again, his arms tightening around you. "Always," he murmured, his voice a solemn vow. "I'll always come back to you."

The room was a cocoon of warmth and love, the storm outside a gentle lullaby, as you both drifted off to sleep, the sound of the rain a soothing serenade. Hours passed, the city's heartbeat growing quieter as the night deepened. When you awoke, the rain had stopped, leaving a freshness in the air that seemed to cleanse the very essence of the world. The scent of wet earth and the faint sound of distant cars washed over you, bringing with it a sense of peace.

******

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[kxxkiecxre]

・❥・ Trapped Hearts || Jeon Jungkook ・❥・

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: Jungkook is a good guy, you know that… he’s just stuck on you and won’t leave you alone. Maybe you should be concerned, maybe even run. Deep down however, you know you love this.

WARNINGS: 18+, stalker au, stalker!jk, stalker descriptions.

Part two: a life that’s so carefree

It’s been weeks, months even, since you broke you with him. Yet he still feels so close to you. So personal. It’s haunting the way you can feel his soft touch lingering on your skin as if he’s still around you. Maybe he is? You’ve been suspicious of this for awhile, every time you walk anywhere you feel him around. Or more like someone’s watching you. Every step you take, even in the comfort of your own home.

It’s gotten to a point where you slept with all your windows closed, blinds too. You loved having the window cracked open during the night for fresh air, but ever since you broke up with Jungkook you’ve had this eerie feeling of being watched. Your friends told you multiple times it wouldn’t be surprising if someone did stalk you, just because a lot of the men you were with before would become overly obsessed. You weren’t sure what it was that made them insane when you’d break up with them, but then again, men are truly just creatures of habit. Weak, shy and frail despite their stereotype or image. They’re emotional. Like little puppies who need constant care.

You walked home alone, the night dark and silent as you walked the familiar path towards your apartment complex. Large fluffy trees surrounding you either side of the pathway. The grass around you was wet and freshly cut, providing that that comforting smell. The street lights hued your figure in an orange cast, your features extenuated under the shade of deep amber. You looked behind your shoulder, that unsettling feeling of being watched present once again.

Your hair got caught in your reflective lipgloss, your red manicured fingers brushing them off your face. Your brows furrowed before you quickly turned to face the road ahead of you again. You wore a much simpler outfit tonight, black fishnet tights, studded with little crystals that could never outshine the sparkle In your eyes, your dress was a deep burgundy color, it looked like the velvet dress he bought you. The valley of your breasts lightly covered with the black lace hem. Your body was covered with a black leather bomber jacket, hair flowing effortlessly over your body.

You looked beautiful as always and it made him throw his head softly against the tree. Sighing to himself. Has he gone insane? He’s never been like this over anyone but you. Watching your every move, making sure you’re safe. You’re okay. It was freaky. He was freaky. It wasn’t cute, to be this obsessed with you. He was drooling just at the distant sight of you. God he was pathetic.

When you got within safe distance for him to follow you again, he wasted no time to catch up with you. He was dressed in his washed out baggy jeans, blue hoodie covering his face and posture perfectly. He still kept a good distance away from you. Still, seeing a man walking in dark clothing behind a woman who’s vulnerable, it spooked you. You walked faster, as fast as your legs could take you in your black heels. Out of instinct sharing your location with not only your friend Laura, but with Jungkook too, you knew he’d protect you if it came to it.

You: someone’s following me, a man. Call me in ten minutes. If I don’t answer after the third ring, call the police.

SEEN

Jungkook: got you b

You continue walking as fast as you could, practically breaking your ankles as you ran up the stairs of your porch. You locked the doors behind you, quickly running around the house to close all the blinds. You sat on your bed now, head in your hands. You’re too paranoid. The ringing of your phone is what makes you jump. Jungkook.

You answer the phone, his voice was low like he was whispering, “hello?”

“Hi”

“Are you okay? Did the creep stop following you?” He asks, standing directly across your bedroom window. Leaned up against the far wall, one foot up against it behind him, his hoodie still covering up most of his face as he held the phone to his ear. Eyes never leaving the silhouette of your figure pacing your room behind the blinds.

“Yeah,” you sounded panicked, “I mean I didn’t look back I just went home straight.”

Fuck, he’s such a prick.

She sat across you brows furrowed and eyes concerned, “did you report it to the police?”.

“Come on now Yuna, you know well the police don’t give a shit unless I know who the person is or have evidence.”

She nodded, stirring her cappuccino as you held your own between your palms, “so what are you going to do?”.

Your eyes frantically scanned the room, full of anxiety, “I’ll share my location with you and Laura and Jk, at all times.”

He stood leaned up against the black marbled wall holding up the tall building, away from your vision still he could see you perfectly. You were inside your favourite little cafe, with Yuna of course. You talked fast, your eyes skittish as they danced around the room every few seconds, probably spooked from last night. He watched as you raised the white mug to your lips, your tongue darting out to lick the foam of your lips.

He watched you with pride, with so much love even though what he was doing right now was far beyond creepy and disgusting.

Yuna decided to walk you back to your workplace, “you need to invest in a car y/n, if worst comes to worst, you can run the creep over.”

“If only I could afford one” you chuckled lightly.

You threw yourself into work immediately upon coming to your cubicle, spending hours calculating numbers and statistics, percentages and such that one major company may need. It was exhausting, but it also stopped your brain from overthinking. Stopped you from thinking about your potential stalker, whoever it may be.

If only you could see him, know who it is. You’d kill him with your bare hands. That’s a lie, but you’d still like to believe you’d fight against the creep. Your manic working was interrupted by your co-worker tapping you on the shoulder,

“I’m sorry, there’s some guy waiting for you outside? More like demanding to speak with you.”

You frowned, a guy? The only guy you know is Jungkook. A bit afraid it might be your stalker waiting for you, to kidnap or maybe even kill you or something.

You turned to your co worker, “tae? Would you mind going down with me?”

Taehyung doesn’t question, he simply nods with sincere eyes.

The walk down to the bottom floor had your stomach doing flips, nerves running rampant as if you were willingly walking into a trap. Your heart settles down a little when you see Jungkook, leaning against a shiny white Mercedes. A new car?

“Kook? What you doing here?” You asked, voice still so sweet and soft.

“I came to bring you your new weapon.”

He holds the keys in the air, your eyes close to popping out of their sockets. You meant well when you told Jungkook you’d remain only friendly with him after the breakup, but this man must not know what friendly is.

“Thought you’d benefit better from it, if worst comes to worst you can run the creep over.”

The sentence he says is exactly, word for word, like Yunas from earlier today. It sends a little shiver down your spine but you ignore it and smile at him, “kook-“

“Shut up and take it Y/N, I owe it to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Clearly I must have done something wrong to lose a woman like you..”

“Jungkook, I broke up with you because of personal reasons. Nothing to do with you.” A lie… it was everything to do with him. His mother to be precise.

He was loaded. So were his parents and you were just a middle class girl living in your mums old home working a job that pays well.. at least for interns. Still it didn’t sit right with his mother, she kept accusing you of leeching off of him. Which was now where near the truth.

“I won’t leave until you take the keys Y/N.”

Shaking your head you take the keys, “I’m only borrowing it.”

“Sure” he laughs.

You came home early once again, only this time all the lights are on in your house. What the fuck? With a fastening heart rate you press the accelerator down, going thrice the speed limit but you couldn’t care. Not when you were two seconds away from breaking down. Doing a loop around your village you finally end up at your destination.

You knock wildly on the door, tears forming in your eyes, the door doesn’t open. No one answers, he must be asleep. The rain starts lashing, soaking the cotton dress on you printed with little lilacs. Your hair drenched in the rain. You pull the top of the vase of the little flower off, finding the key to his fancy apartment. You waste no time entering his home without his permission. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind anyway.

The place is dark, not a single light on. You turned the hallway lights on, “Jungkook? It’s me Y/N”.

You run around the apartment, turning on every light on your way. Nothing. Finally, you enter his room. You turn the light on, nobody’s there once again. You take a look at the room, it was messy, some type of pictures laying scattered all over the floor. You bend down, sniffling they’re just selfies of him. You smiled softly at the picture of him with his head against a tree in the dark of night “weirdo”.

You sniffled again, you’re definitely getting sick. You raised yourself back onto your feet. Walking around his room and cleaning up the scattered papers and pictures until you find his opened laptop. Your breath hitches, eyes widening and jaw slacking as you scroll through the pictures. It was you. The pictures of all the times you felt you were being watched, you in front of your mirror in your room, you walking through the little park on the night you texted him about someone following you. You were looking behind your shoulder. You in the cafe. You in your work place. You, you, you. Every picture was you. As you closed the tab, his wallpaper was you in the pub dancing. That same night he was following you through the park.

You felt sick the more you looked through his stuff. The selfies, they were all of him taking pictures of himself outside of the places you were. What the fuck. You were going to get sick, holy shit. You rushed out of his apartment, dizzy and nauseated. Holy fuck.

As you run down the stairs he walks up around the corner, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N?”

You got stuck, you mumbled something incoherent before you finally spat it out, “I was just gonna come up but nobody was answering the door.”

“Sorry I was out with Jin, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, “I have to go though, Yuna got drunk again so I have to pick her up.” You chuckled nervously.

“Okay… stay safe? Call me when you’re home.”

“Yeah absolutely.” You smile quickly at him before you rushed back to the car.

The car he gave you … incase of the creep. The more you struggled to breathe the more you became nauseated. Quickly, you pulled out of his driveway. Heading straight back to your place.

The first thing you do after locking your door was throwing up in your toilet. Your breathing was harsh as you slid down the wall of your bathroom. He was right there, all along. He was the one who was your stalker. Right under your nose. It made you feel another wave of nausea. Trying your hardest to not breakdown.

Why would he do that though? Why would he make you so scared, so anxious about going out living your day to day life became a nightmare. Because of him. Fucking hell.

You took a couple deep breathes before you got back up. Pulling your hair into a ponytail, you stripped yourself off of your soaked dress. Slipping on your leggings and sweatshirt. You were about to press the call button, to ring Yuna. Until a series of knocks echoed through your house. A shiver ran down your body, that dreadful nauseating feeling taking over your body once again.

You entered your living room, watching the door as he continued knocking.

“Baby, cmon, let me in.” He called out in his innocent voice.

“It’s not at all what it looks like, I promise.”

The thunder rolled right after his sentence, lighting up your rather dark living room in a shade of blue.

What do you do now?

A/N: hope yall enjoyed this little Drabble :).

I DO NOT ALLOW ANY TRANSLATION OR COPYING OF MY WORK.

masterlist

[virgoilluminati]

Match Made in England

Following the success of the women's world cup and the ongoing struggles of juggling both fame, football and their relationship, Jude and Y/N set up a tv series.

A/N: ok so i kinda had this idea for a little while but this is kinda like a little spoof spinoff of the World Class series and each "episode" is like a little update into their life, with snippets as if they are hosting a tv reality show. If you have any requests on what episodes you would like to have posted on here pls let me know :)

A tv show created by two lovers that happen to both play for the england football team 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

You sit next to your window in your two-bedroom apartment, a cup of coffee steaming up over the rainy exterior. The sound of raindrops tapping against the glass creates a soothing rhythm, blending with the soft hum of the city outside. Your mind drifts as you watch the rain cascade down, each droplet carrying with it a piece of your thoughts.

Lost in the tranquility of the moment, you reflect on the past week, the challenges at work, and the unexpected encounter with an old friend. The city lights blur in the distance, their reflection shimmering on the wet streets below.

You take a slow sip of your coffee, savoring the warmth that spreads through your body.The apartment, though small, feels like a sanctuary. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with stories waiting to be explored. A faint aroma of vanilla and cinnamon from a nearby candle mingles with the rich scent of coffee, creating a comforting atmosphere.

As the rain continues to fall, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. Despite the hustle and bustle of life, these quiet moments remind you of the simple joys that make each day worth living. With a contented sigh, you lean back, ready to embrace whatever the evening brings.It had been six months since winning the World Cup and your world had been an absolute spin. TV interview after TV interview, magazine photoshoots, ongoing pestering rumors about your relationship with Jude—everything had felt like a whirlwind, one which never stopped. And now, the BBC had asked to start a reality TV show about your and Jude's life.

At first, you were hesitant, preferring the shielded safety of your private life together. But then, as reminded by your new PA, Emily, people had never been more interested in the women's game, and this was a huge step forward, likening it to other docu-series like Beckham.You let out a deep sigh, watching the rain continue to blur the cityscape outside your window. The idea of opening up your life to the public felt both thrilling and terrifying.

You and Jude had always valued your privacy, cherishing the quiet moments away from the prying eyes of the media. But Emily's words echoed in your mind—this could be a pivotal moment for women's sports, an opportunity to inspire and connect with fans on a deeper level.

With your coffee cup now empty, you stand and stretch, feeling the weight of the decision pressing on your shoulders. You walk over to the kitchen, placing the cup in the sink, and then glance at the clock. Jude would be home soon. The thought brings a smile to your face, a reminder of the support and love that had carried you both through the chaos of the past months.As you prepare dinner, your mind races with possibilities.

The show could highlight the dedication and hard work that goes into being a professional athlete, the balance between your careers and personal lives, and the love story that had captivated so many. But it could also bring unwanted scrutiny and pressure.

The sound of the front door opening pulls you from your thoughts. Jude walks in, shaking off the rain from his jacket. His smile is warm and reassuring, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you."Hey," he says, coming over to give you a kiss. "How was your day?"You take a deep breath, ready to share the latest development.

"Busy, as usual. You?"

"Trent being his usual annoying self." You let out a laugh, your heart warmed from the unlikely England duo.

"You spoke to Em today?" Jude asks, his head rested on your shoulder as he pulls you in for a hug.

"Uh yeah, theres something we need to talk about."Jude raises an eyebrow, curious. "What's up?"

"The BBC wants to do a reality show about us. Emily thinks it's a great idea, a big step forward for the women's game. I'm just... not sure."Jude listens intently, then takes your hand.

"It's a big decision, no doubt. I'm hesitant too, honestly. But it could also be quite fun. Imagine sharing our journey, the highs and lows, with everyone. It could be something really special."

You chuckle. “Yeah, special like that time you tried to cook dinner and almost set the kitchen on fire?"Jude laughs.

"Hey, it was only a small fire. And I learned a valuable lesson: never leave pasta boiling while watching a football game.”

You grin. “Exactly. We can show people the real us, kitchen disasters and all. But seriously, we should set some boundaries. Like, no cameras before I’ve had my morning coffee.”

Jude nods. “Agreed. And no filming me when I’m singing in the shower. Nobody needs to hear that.”

You burst out laughing. “Deal. And if it ever gets too much, we can always take a break. No pressure.”

Jude grins, pulling you into a hug. “Alright then, let’s get this show on the road. We’ll need to find a good production team and start planning out the details. Think they’ll let us film in the Birmingham pub?”

You laugh. “I’m sure we can work something out. This is going to be hilarious. I can’t wait to see what crazy moments we capture.”

Jude’s expression turns thoughtful. “And we’ll need a team that can travel with us, especially since I’ll be in Madrid a lot for games. Filming in different locations could add a cool dynamic, don’t you think?”

You nod. “Absolutely! We can show different cultures, cities, and maybe even some behind-the-scenes at your matches. Plus, it gives us an excuse to travel together more.”

Jude’s eyes light up. “True, and maybe I can even get some of my teammates to make cameo appearances. Imagine the chaos!”You laugh again. “Oh god, what have I gotten myself into..."

Episodes:

Ep 1: Just two kids from England: the ups and downs of football.

Ep 2: New Beginnings: All Things Madrid