#i still dream about that fucking match lol

[livelaughlovepedri]

7, 15 and 21 for the football ask game 🫶🏼💗

hi there lovee 🥰

7. Most underrated player of the year

I’ll give you two. i feel like caro graham hansen is heavily underrated in the football world and among her peers too. she deserved a lot more recognition due to her sensational last season. second, cubarsí bc sometimes we take him for granted and forget that he is 17!! playing at an insane level and saving our asses every match (also robbed of a better place in the kopa trophy)

15. Most dramatic match of the year

barça vs psg second leg. bro araujo’s red card. rat dembele goal then xavi’s red card and the european dream going away. yeah i went through hell and back lmao

21. Biggest “what if” moment of the year

WHAT IF araujo didn’t get that red card 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[nutelloona]

it's honestly so toxic that I'm still single even though my hair looks breathtakingly good

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE HUSBAND x GN CELEBRITY!READER

— based off of a dream i had of a childhood friend/crush. hiatus not over tho lol.

— morally bankrupt reader. clingy husband. the usual yandere stuff.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who was your childhood best friend. Your parents shipped you two since you could speak.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who had a crush on you since forever. He doesn’t even remember a time where he didn’t get butterflies and an aching need to be the only one close to you

YANDERE! HUSBAND who’s the biggest flirt. He knows you the best. Although you were completely oblivious. He’d always try to be around you, compliment you, tease you.

He’d give you matching keychains, and would beg his parents to buy whatever gift he’d think you’d like.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who sadly had to move away for a while. He comes back during high school. And the first thing he asks while he’s there? To be put in the same class as you.

Now that you two are older, you finally started to notice how much of a tease he was. Always grappling unto a piece of your attention.

You acquiesce and begin to date him. Not necessarily feeling anything for the guy but thought it was high time that you finally settle down. It was the perfect storyline you could share once your ambitions were fulfilled.

That and cause your parents would only let you go to acting school if he married you.

Which you two eventually did before college. Was it rushed? Definitely. Did you even love the guy? Nuh uh. But you had places you had your sights set on. And he was the only path.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who drops out to be your full time househubby. His parents could always give him a job at their corporation anyways. There was no real pressure for him to study and get a job.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who almost always supports your acting career. Watching all your shows, movies, and interviews. Basically buying out all the merch you featured in. And paying advertisers across the globe to have your face plastered everywhere.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who unfortunately stops you from having any romantic or sexual scenes. Essentially blocking you from any roles that could be your breakthrough just cause it could have a tiny kiss or so.

Your anger at his blatant attempt to have control over you began simmering. Ever so slowly reaching the surface. Not improving at all when you found out he’d been trying out a job that his mother gave him.

Fuck the gifts. Fuck the yachts and cars he’d swarm you with. Why did he get to do what he wanted and you didn’t?

So you follow him to work once, only to catch him in a compromising position with a coworker.

You didn’t care about him or his business beneath the sheets really. So you had to thank the gods above that you knew exactly what and how to do the following act.

Cry. Scream. Throw things at them.

The coworker already left. Shuffling as they tried to hide from your anger.

Your husband is unresponsive. Catatonic. Even more of an excuse to hurt him.

You call him filthy, uncaring, the worst man to ever exist. Hell, even some of your true feelings come out as you yelled about how you regretted ever being with him.

You find out later from his mom that he had been framed. That this coworker was just trying to get money out of the heir.

Still, you wanted out. He had already served his purpose and you needed to expand your horizons.

A week later of radio silence from him as you prepared the divorce papers he walks in.

Covered in red his hands caressed your face,

“You called me filthy did you not? So I cleansed myself with their blood.”

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send” before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

[s-4pphics]

soul ties. part I (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: a product of brokenness. WORD COUNT: 13.4K WARNINGS: ellie’s a painter/art dealer, heavy angst[oc is suicidal and has dissociative episodes + abusive parents/SEXUAL ABUSE(nothing explicitly written but aluded to) + patriarchy/men being predatory/traditionalist households + mentions of cheating + alcoholism + disordered eating/self-harm(cuticle picking) + thoughts of murder + mommy issues/daddy issues + parental grief + homophobia + more patriarchy but with dykes + unhealthy relationships with sex(coping) + brief mention of masturbation + sexual tension + making out + fondling + slapping + DUBCON + just matching freaks to avoid trauma], miscommunication, just 2 socially inept crash outs lol  A/N: hellloo lol. fixed plot bc im venting… s been a very rough few months. i was convinced i lost my very acute skill so uhhh consider this a test. uhh what else… idk when i’ll be back bc im now a piano player #NEWFOUNDESCAPISM LOL.  suggestion: this technically could b read alone but if u care ab context read this first. then this. that is all LOL byeee :p hi taggies we back: @dyk3ang3l @acidblum @mellifluousgirll @elliesatchel @callmewhenyoukan @natgf123 @elliesstella @spaceforescape @floridaopal @lonelyfooryouonly @ellies-converse @amiorca @darkerstarsstuff

fuck the bitch that made this game.  dont buy his shit.

aid links from my inbox: one, two, three, four

What to do, what to do… 

Ellie is a wreck. An agitated, craving, mess. 

What to do… Love your wife, fuck the daylights out of your wife, kill your wife before she kills you… What to do… 

It can’t be that hard to hide a body. Is it still murder if it’s self-defense? Ellie’s sure the next bath you run for her will either be filled with bleach or result in her being forced underwater until she’s lifeless. There are lots of people willing to get their hands dirty for her if that’s the case. Not a trace of you or her would be left and she’d finally be able to escape with only the clothes on her back. The weightlessness in her pockets wouldn’t move her in any way. Nothing compares to freedom. What a suffocating life she lives. 

The guest room mattress becomes less and less plush every time she lays in it. The sheets are itchier and cold and she’s stuck pondering with each swirl of the ceiling fan, wet hair wrapped in a bath towel; restless, fidgety, and honey-like ache in the pit of her stomach, mind warped with lecherous thoughts of her wife that she despises but not as much, her supposed life partner and fuck, how did you two get here…

Stuck with a tension so thick it permeates your home; if you’d even call it that. You’re both successfully trapped between your own walls; Elegant windows take the place of rusted, metal bars that confine you from the life you both dreamed of before all this; one soft and doting and colorful, one where your light isn’t dulled. 

Why does she feel so guilty, suddenly? You’re not lovers, and neither in love, so why does her chest ache with every glance she steals when you’re unassuming? The pain that’s always etched on your face, and if not, in your eyes — fills her with regret. She would abandon you for days — weeks at a time, not at all concerned about what you might be experiencing to rid herself of shame. And to think that you were merely a younger version of your mother; villainous and cruel and greedy when… when you’ve barely spoken. She finds herself, unfortunately, reminiscing on how bushy-tailed you were after marriage. So eager to please and prick her mind and annoyingly mechanical. You cooked at the same time everyday. Cleaned, did both your laundry, sunbathed, swam in your pool. She hated how rehearsed your lifestyle was; it reminds her of the worst parts of her childhood. When her mother was alive. So, Ellie chose to step out on you the second you took her last name; ravaged other women, released her anger and desires on strangers when she should’ve had you beneath, above, on your knees for her. Where has that craving to harm you gone? For months, she’s ached for your suffering to mirror hers, but now… What’s happening to her? What’s happened to you? 

Ellie believes you’ve lost it, and somehow she’s found herself chasing that unforeseen part of you; unfiltered and angry and wild. This manufactured doll your mother molded you into is shattering at the core and Ellie craves to see more of you. Guilty. As hurt as you were, that night was the most alive she’s seen you be. You shouted and cried and tore at the seams, desperate for someone to hear you, and Ellie did. Loud and clear. She saw you for what you are. Mangled from the inside out, entirely hopeless. Just like she is. An unspeakable link that binds the two of you.

Soul ties. 

She shook and pleaded for you to enter the bathroom and see her battered against the shower wall with a hand between her legs and your name dripping from her lips, but the knob never twisted. Her orgasms were unsatisfactory, and she accepted with irritation that it was because you weren’t there. She ignored the throbbing between her legs and vacated the bathroom. Ellie, with legs that trembled, found you wrapped in satin and snoring. They sounded like whistles. 

She stood for a while, just watching you twitch and wiggle in your rest, eyes glazing to the space beside you that could easily fit another body. The sheets are already warm from where you lay. The two of you have never slept in the same room, let alone bed. 

Her feet carried her out. Silently left the room with an unfamiliar ache in her chest. 

Her mind made an enemy out of you because that’s what you are. When she thought her life couldn’t get any worse, you appeared and destroyed everything in her path. Left her world in ruins. Disrupted her pattern. You’re an enemy and deserve to hurt. 

Aren’t you? Don’t you? 

Everything is unclear. Ellie hasn’t been this conflicted since she was 15. She wishes she could sleep forever so she wouldn’t be forced to think. 

If she had any sense left, she would paint her agony away. In the past, her mind would shut down with every splash of color on a canvas to compensate for the darkness that conjured in her mind. She refrains from that now, though. She’s horny; scared she’ll start imagining what your pussy looks like and sketch it all over the bedroom walls. That’d be too much; a boundary that will remain untouched.

But her brain knows she’s not a good person; she can’t help but imagine how gorgeous your pussy is because you are and she’s known that since the beginning, the second she saw you drenched in white. Drenched in sorrow. 

She clutches your wedding band in her palm. 

What to do… what to do… 

Birds are artists. 

They never fail to sing every morning; sonnets aimed to awaken life as sun rays spill from behind mountains. You've always appreciated their tunes whenever you were pulled from a hollow rest, no longer surrounded by darkness. 

Maybe it was the routine your mother set for you from young. You were 9 when she first coddled your drowsiness as she shook you awake at five in the morning; the early bird catches the worm, a saying you naively assumed as preparation for the day, for your homeschooling. An energy booster, possibly. Motivation. Something to get you through. 

How stupid could a child be? 

You were 12 when your cycle started. You were 12 when you realized that your mother never envisioned actual birds and worms like you had. Your mother has games she plays and she cheats. She’s had you on a leash for the past decade; the scars around your neck are forever a reminder of the hell you’ve endured under her hand. It took no effort on her part to be uncaring of your suffering, and somehow that aches more than anything else. 

Even more than the existence of him. A demon walking.

Animals aren’t like your family. Birds aren’t. The minute specks of sunlight begin, their job starts, and they complete it happily without compensation or praise or the slightest acknowledgment. Everyone wakes, and they fly to anywhere to wake the next. 

But wealth is dirty. Wealth makes people dirty. They swindler and lie and experience life with a vacancy that’ll never be filled with anything but greed. Your mother trained you for years to accept whatever was given as long as you were taken care of. Play your part, she’d say. It took you years to learn her strategy — and unlearn yourself — but you’re here. Married. Successful by association. Rich. Unhappy. Unloved. 

Birds guided you. They never shy from their duty, and you hadn’t either… 

But you’re human. You crack and cry and scream and you hate. You despise so strongly that you lash out and everything in your path becomes victimized. Sometimes it gets to a point where you crave blood. You want to drown in it, drink it until you’re sick. Your soul is dead. Everyones’ should die with yours. 

You don’t know who should go first. Your mother, your stepfather, or your wife. 

You want to swallow Ellie whole—

“Good morning.” 

You’ve never seen Ellie not dolled up. She clearly just awakened with her wrinkled MILFS ONLY shirt and sporadic hair. Timidity doesn’t suit Ellie. You're so used to seeing her exasperated. Her weary eyes don’t meet yours. You should tell her your plans to adopt a hummingbird. Or maybe you shouldn’t. She might laugh at you.

“Hello.” 

“… Hi.” She seems like she wants to say something. You sip your coffee. 

“My dad called.” 

You hum around the rim of your mug. “Woke you up?” 

She merely shrugs. “I uh… did anyone tell you about tomorrow?” 

“Of course not.” 

You don’t expect Ellie to flinch at your tone. You weren’t that sharp, were you?

You might’ve been because she slows her speech. Like she’s approaching a wounded animal, “Dad’s hosting a dinner. Corporate bullshit but we have to go.” 

“Why.” 

She squints at you. “Why what.” 

“Why do we have to go.” Your mug lands on the table harder than expected. 

“To make mommy and daddy look good.” She sneers while approaching her seat, “Did you forget?” 

“I just thought they wouldn’t want two dykes contaminating their spaces anymore.” 

Ellie snorts. “They don’t. Companies do. Gets their cocks hard. Two gay daughters, how progressive!” She mocks and plops on the chair directly across from you, wiping at her eyes. Your throat dries when you notice her wedding band. She hardly ever wears it. You don’t know where you left yours. Since when does she care to wear it? “They’ll do anything they can to get on their good side. They’re… merging organizations or whatever the fuck he said.” 

She swallows. Shrugs uncaringly, “We going?” Her eyes watch your hands squeeze your mug. 

“Are we.” 

She regards your cup with caution. Does she think you’ll throw it? The thought nearly makes you laugh. 

“Yes.” She answers. 

“Okay.” 

Your wife finally looks up and stands, nose upturned, “Okay? That’s all you got?” 

“Yes. Okay.” You sip silently. Your foot taps on hardwood. 

“Excited to see your family? You like ‘em now?” 

Excited is laughable. 

“No, I don’t.” 

The sudden calamity from your wife confuses you. She tugs at the strands that flop on her head in agitation. They look soft as they bounce with her pacing. You’ll never feel them. Or you might later. Who knows with her. Who knows with you. 

Ellie’s still talking. Her arms flail like she’s annoyed by you. You’re not sure why. You’re following. You’re allowing her to guide. To control. That’s the entire point of this. That’s why you’re going to dinner with her. She told you to go and that’s it. 

Play your part play your part play yo—

You don’t remember much of anything; the past, the present, but you recall what Ellie sounds like when she’s angry, whether it’s at you, her father, the woman her father is fucking or married to or whatever. If you’d listen, you’ll discover what ticked her off, but your ears ring too loud. Much louder than her screaming. 

You sip your coffee silently. Ellie leaves you at the dining table with a slam of a door. 

You think it’s the first floor’s guest room. 

The sun sets. Ellie can’t remember the last time she’s been home this long. 

She hates the weekends. The gallery is never open and she can’t drown herself in deals. She hates being home when you are. Why the fuck are you always here? You don’t have friends, a job, a life outside of this goddamn house? There’s a sinking in her stomach at the thought of your isolation, but she ignores it. Tries to ignore it.

… Can’t really ignore it. How pestering. You’re a pest. 

She knows nothing about you, only bits of your past expressed through photographs at your mother’s or outbursts in your bedroom. Your stepfather is fucking creepy and your mother’s glare is killer, but that’s about it. Still, she doesn’t think she can hate your parents more than you. 

You’re so fucking weird. Just like them. Unforgiving and unchaste one day then apathetic the next. How the fuck can one communicate with a person like that? 

That feeling in her chest again. Sharp and annoying. Try try try, it says. Begs from her. 

Try and do what? Do fucking what—

It took Ellie 3 seconds to unlock the guest room door and fly down the stairs when a crash rings from the first floor. Glass clatters and you sound in pain and oh fuck did someone break in

There’s red all over the kitchen floor but it’s not blood it’s red wine. Red wine red wine it’s not blood— 

You’re on the kitchen floor surrounded by green shards and dressed so pretty. Hair coiled and free and your face is done up and you’re wearing flowers. There’s flowers all over and your skin shines and why do you have heels on like a play doll?

Ellie palms at the scattered racing of her heart. Everything’s fine, her brain blares, She tripped, that’s it. Clears her throat. Rustles her hair to appear normal. 

She’s not dead. 

“… You good?” 

An unsteady hand rises to throw her a thumbs up. Your body wobbles when you attempt to stand. Ellie ushers to the counter to slide on her slippers, tells you to stop when your palm nearly plants on a shard. 

“Move back before you hurt yourself.” Ellie takes a quick lap around the kitchen for the broom and dustpan. Finds you just as quickly so you don’t accidentally slice an artery. 

Your lashes flutter and her heart follows suit, taking in the mess. “I think I fucked up.” You croak.

Hearing you curse is always odd. She huffs, “It’s fine. Can you stand?” 

Your head shakes and your bottom lip juts. “My… my shoes…”

You slowly plop onto your bottom and rest your back against the dishwasher. You struggle to grip your buckles to pull and slide the strap and Ellie remembers why she hates heels. She sweeps the glass away from you and realizes she should’ve mopped first because the bristles are soaked and streaking the clean parts of the crystal porcelain. When was the last time she cleaned? The maids always do. Sometimes you help. 

You look stunned when Ellie moves to squat in front of you. Jumps back when she adjusts your ankle. 

Her palms hang in surrender, “I’m gonna help you. Relax. Do your knees hurt?” 

You landed right on them. They should. You don’t disarm, eyes guarded and body locked tight, but you shrug. It’s good enough for Ellie. 

She unravels the buckles around both your ankles and tosses them next to you and you just watch. Ellie’s glances are quick and flitting, but she follows the traces of her hands; the sharp inhales whenever her fingers brush against the skin of your leg. You’re not as close as you were last night but she can smell you. Her chest is throbbing. You look like you’re about to cry but you’re drunk. It’s meaningless. Drunk people cry. 

Try try try try 

“Can you stand now?” She croaks. 

It takes a second for you to register her inquiry, but you shrug, and she sighs. When Ellie stands, both her hands extend out to you, but you don’t accept them; She gets jittery under your scrutinizing gaze after nearly a minute passes. Her throat dries and her face burns when you brush her hands away; standing on your own is an unstable journey, but you do, back against the counter to stabilize yourself. You look ill. Your brain must be jumbled. 

“Can you get upstairs on your own?” 

“You talk a fucking lot. Shut up.”  

The corner of Ellie’s mouth rises, but she says nothing. Gives you space to move. 

You take one step, then two more, then your eyes shut and your throat jumps. Uh oh.

“Oh shit, come—“

Ellie guides you to the garbage can near the front of the counter, away from the glass, and you dry heave. Liquid splatters inside the can and Ellie hates this so fucking much. The sounds are enough to make her own stomach lurch. It’s been a while since she’s been around someone this drunk. 

But she holds your waist so you don’t faceplant into your own vomit. 

“Get it out,” She hums with a grimace, “You’re fine.” An I gotcha almost rolls off her tongue but she catches it. She glides a comforting hand over your curved spine because you’re drunk and you won’t remember such gestures in the morning. She prefers it that way. 

You’re not gagging anymore so Ellie removes herself from you. Until she hears a whimper. And a sob so quiet she assumes you’re trying to mask it. Drunk people cry; she’s seen it countless times. Why does that seering feeling spark in her chest for what felt like the billionth time today? Fucking try, for fucks sake! 

“Let’s… let’s get you—“

“I wish I was dead.” 

Your prayer is hollow. Not even sad despite your tears. So, so empty. Ellie’s seen this before, experienced that nothingness countless times, but despite it all, she never learned how to console. Hell, she barely knows how to self-soothe without falling victim to her dark temptations. Even her paint brushes can’t eliminate the constant ache she feels. She just watches the tremble of your shoulders from behind. 

“I really don’t wanna go tomorrow.” You whisper. 

Ellie sighs. There’s no other choice. You know the stakes; follow your families’ commands or lose everything at the drop of a hat. They’ll leave you both on the streets to rot with no remorse if they please, replace the two of you with two normal children. Het children that won’t deviate. You’re both on thin ice as it is. Mainly because of Ellie. She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble.

“I…” 

I’ll be with you the entire time. I don’t like being around those cunts either. 

“It’ll go by quickly.” She settles. 

“I hate when p-people look at me.” 

“Me too.” 

“I wish my family loved me.” 

Ellie’s softer now. Only slightly. 

“Yeah…” 

A tug in her ribcage. Try. Please, try. 

“Me too.” 

The pounding beneath your skull wakes you quicker than the birds. You shove your face in the pillow you rest on. 

The devil tells you to check the time so you do. The bedside clock says noon, meaning a new day, meaning it’s Saturday meaning you’ll die. Maybe not physically but mentally. You’re so drained and you’ve barely opened your eyes; the idea of leaving bed alone is enough to exhaust you. Your wrists and legs ache like fucking hell on top of that. 

You make fists with both hands. Repeatedly clench and unclench. The weight is different on your wedding finger. Heavier. You haven’t seen your ring since yesterday… or a few days ago — you’re not really sure. You must’ve found it in your drunken stupor. Just when you hoped to never see it again. 

The universe will always remind you who you are. 

If you stand you’ll vomit but your phone is ringing from the drawer you stuck it in weeks ago. How is it not dead? You know your mom’s calling. You hate that she is… 

The ringing stops and you thank the heavens. 

You curse them when it starts up again. 

The drawer slides open with reluctance. The ringing sounds 20 times louder. You retrieve your device blindly and your throat snaps shut when you speak. 

“You rang.” 

“Did your… partner tell you about tonight.” 

Hard and distant. That’s how she speaks to you. Your heart cracks. 

Your mom already knows Ellie did. She loves to bother you with nonsense. You don’t think she’s ever called Ellie your wife. 

“Yes.” 

“You’re attending.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

“Is that all.” 

“Your gown was delivered here. Come by well before 8 to get ready.” 

And she hangs up. Just like that. Always. She’s never told you to have a nice day, or to rest well, or that she loves you, at the minimum. And if she had, you don’t remember any of it. There’s a lot you force yourself to forget. 

The selfish part of you disregards the burning of your eyes to stare at your phone — low battery and… no messages. No texts, no phone calls from anyone except your mother, no likes on Instagram because your mom scared you into not making one when you were a teenager. No one cares about you. People care about your wife, though. Maybe because she’s talented; she’s certainly not nice. 

Your darkest memories are always the most prominent. 

Your phone drops to the floor and you don’t reach for it. You just pray to sleep again. 

Tonight will be interesting. 

The ride to your mother’s is silent. 

At least she chauffeured the two of you. Ellie can be scary when she drives. You’ve never been in a car with her, but she did ram into a lamppost on the sidewalk a few nights after your wedding. 

Your wife is already dressed despite the party being hours away. She sits right next to you in all black; in a trenchie and turtleneck and slacks and loafers with fur and gold jewelry. When she descended the staircase, you gawked when she wasn’t looking. So simple, but she had your heart fluttering when she’d asked, ready? You’re still in your sleep shorts, teeth unbrushed and starving. When was the last time you ate? 

What an embarrassment — you’re an embarrassment, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. If only newly wed you could see herself now. 

You swallow a lump when you feel eyes on the side of your face, but yours remain glued out the window. The closer you get to your mom’s, the faster your mind starts to shut down. Everything passes you by in a blur. 

By the time the gates with your father’s initials come into view, your thoughts go silent, only filled with the calming images of nature and the song of birds. Your only escapism. 

The only way you’ll make it out of here in one piece. 

Ellie! Darling! We’ve missed you! Give us a smile! 

Ellie! Ellie, look this way! 

Ellie, where’s your wife? 

She wishes she knew. You’d barely made it into your mother’s home before getting swept down the hall by 4 other people who poked at your appearance. Ellie didn’t even get to give your mom the passive, spine-chilling hi, mom like old times before another SUV came to whisk her away from that hell hole. Her dad always knows somehow. 

She hates being at your mom’s; it’s stifling and quiet and the aura is dark. Like mother, like house or whatever the fuck. 

She scowls when the bombarding questions redirect to you. Some concerning, some sarcastic, some raunchy — those get under her skin in particular — and she can’t stop fiddling with her ring. Her chest tugs tugs tugs. 

Trouble in paradise? 

You were caught leaving the bar with another woman on your arm a few weeks ago! How’d your wife react to that? 

She doesn’t know. She’s never home to see you break. 

Guilt ate at her when the door of your mother’s mansion shut behind her, but she disregards it now. You shouldn’t be forced to listen to their guised jabs; You get enough of that from everyone in your life. She hopes you’ll go through the back entrance when you arrive. 

When will you get here? 

Ellie’s never made an event appearance without you. You’d pose and fidget and display awkward affection so that they’d buy your love a little bit, then enter the gathering as two separate hearts, riddled and torn, never to cross paths until the bustle is over and it’s time to go home. 

Finally, security moves and barricades her until she gets past the 20 foot gate and treads the steps. The flashing cameras are still blinding from behind. 

The tended garden is the first thing she notices. Wide and green. The daisy and rose bushes are no longer tangled with weeds and surrounded by dead grass and gnats. How could Joelene not see that and be vengeful? Ellie and her dad may not be close anymore, but she knows him; maybe even more than he knows himself. He still misses her mom after everything, and chooses to express it through her favorite hiding spot. Keeps the flowers that bloom and trims the ones that don’t so she lives through them. Ellie hardly remembers a time when her mother wasn’t covered in dirty overalls and sunburnt. 

She manages to hold it together when the large double doors open. The violins suddenly sound like nails on wood. 

Voices fade into nothing. People are outside your car. Light hurts so terribly. 

One second you’re here, the next you’re not. Your mom and her husband sit across with twined arms and the lace from your dress is itchy and you wanna disappear. When you blink, you’re gone. You only exist on this plain if your eyes are open. 

Something hard and leather brushes against your ankle, scratches against your stockings, slow and snake-like. You know what it is, who it is, and you freeze, eyes locked onto your mother. No matter your hopelessness, there’s still a young girl in you that wishes your mother would defend, act on anger, be disgusted at minimum. At least when his crimes are done in secret you can’t blame her for not knowing. 

But you’re here and she’s here and he’s here. A shared secret between the three of you. 

His shoe doesn’t halt on your leg. Your mother never looks at you. 

Birds and songs and sonnets. You’re a bird and you can fly against the strongest winds. Music is your guide and you follow the clouds. 

Your fingers twist together in your lap and the black interior of the car glows red. If only… he’s not the only one with sick intentions. If only. 

You’re flying you’re flying you can fly and there’s someone who’ll love you gently. They’re out there somewhere and you’ll find them and they’ll find you like every trial was worth it. 

Patience. That’s all you need. Just be patient. 

The rest of the car ride is unbeknownst to you. Next thing you know, your door is being opened and two men await your entry at the glass door. 

Champagne is good. Tequila is better. The two mixed is hell. 

Ellie’s throat burns and her mind swirls but she plays it off well enough. Mingles with pensive, old bastards while their daughters’ gawk at her with bright-eyed curiosity and you haven’t arrived yet. 

She lost her dad somewhere in the night. He greeted her briefly upon her arrival, pointed out the important men of the night, called your mother a selfish bitch, then walked off with his mistress by his side. Ellie’s eyes keep meeting the back door from the living room. 

Where are you? 

“Ellie!”

She downs the rest of her chute and guards her agitation with a grin. Shakes the hand of… 

What the fuck was this dude’s name? 

“It’s an honor! Your art is incredible! I’ve truly—“

—Fucking Ronald? Reginald? … Ronald might be it—

“—Your father, ya know, he’s an interesting man, incredibly smart! I’ve never—“

Her dad gave her a run-down of the … merging or whatever the fuck but what the fuck did he say and holy shit, is she sweating? The man’s handshake threw her off, frankly; almost snapped her wrist in two. Fucking old piece of shit. More business jargon that she pretends to understand and care so much about because it’s a show after all. All cheers and stiff laughter. 

“And your wife! By God, what a looker!”

Her jaw clenches. Where are you where are you where are you

“What we’d give, I mean, c’mon!” Men that pass laugh with him and it’s taking everything in Ellie not to smash this glass over his head. One quick swing and it’s over. For him and her. How promising.

“Where is she anyway? You two didn’t come together?” 

“She um, she’s with her parents right now. They’ll be here.” She jerks her chin toward the entrance. 

“How lucky are you. Treat her like the star she is!” It looks like the shithead’s leaving, but not before taunting, “Holler when she arrives, will ya?” 

And just like that, he leaves Ellie to simmer. Three deep breaths. A man in a suit and tray filled with champagne waltzes passed her and she snags two glasses. Downs the first in one thick swallow before another clinks with hers. 

Why does everyone keep fucking with her? 

“Cheers.” 

Ellie doesn’t need to look to know who it is. She scoffs. “Sounds like you’re having fun.” 

Jolene stands next to her, shoulders slouched and dress glowing under the chandelier. She arches a dark brow, “Who wouldn’t? Men are the most entertaining when they’re on ego trips.” 

“Same goes for my dad?” She snips, and Jolene shocks her with a smile. 

“Meh.” 

“Why are you here.” 

“I just told you—“

“No, where are you here.” Ellie gestures between them, “Why’re you talking to me right now?” 

Jolene downs her drink and shrugs, “My attempts at bonding. On a scale of 1 to 10, how shit were they?” 

“900. Leave me the fuck alone.” Before Ellie can run, a hand clamps down on her wrist. 

“I know—“ The woman rushes, “I know we don’t have the best relationship, but I’m not—“

Ellie almost corrects her out of pettiness; They don’t have a relationship, period. There’s no best or worst. But her sudden desperation halts her. 

“—the enemy. There’s not a lot for us in these spaces. I just wanted to try and establish something. Anything. Between us. It can be so lonely without a real support system.”

Ellie hates the direction her heart turns her mind. Suddenly you’re there and you’re crying and clawing at your chest and Ellie just watches like she did that night. So powerless. So empty. 

But Jolene isn’t you. She chooses to be selfish. Yours comes from self preservation and nothing else. 

Ellie snatches her hand back and throws her the deadliest stare. “You don’t know shit about being lonely. You’re the one who gave up everything you had to fuck my dad when my mom wasn’t looking. How much did you care about her loneliness then? Hm?” 

The timing was perfect, really. 15 year old Ellie watched her parents get into one of their most abhorrent arguments; her dad leaves first, then her mom, then only one of them returns, and it was not her mother. Imagine her shock when a news reporter confirmed that her mother’s body had been thrown in a garbage bag and left in a dumpster to rot. It only took two weeks to mourn before he was marrying another woman. 

Nobody cared that her mother had been shot or stabbed or gutted. She was just a woman married to a successor who raised a deviant child. 

Ellie forces herself to not point fingers, though. Anyone could’ve killed her, she always reminds herself; to keep her from going fucking crazy. But timing… 

How telling is time. 

Jolene’s eyes widen and her grip weakens. Ellie takes that as an escape before she has a breakdown in front of the caviar platter. 

She barely takes a step before she collides with a body. 

Funny. 

She bumped right into a star that shines a royal blue. The woman of the hour, for sure. In her mind, at least.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“You’re fine. All me.” Ellie says lowly as she takes you in, and you do the same to her. Shy, but yearnful glances. Glossed lips tightly sealed and brows tense. Your dress shimmers and holds you snug and she feels guilty for staring at your curvature. She’s suddenly hyper aware of the vultures that disguise themselves as men and she has an instinct to hide you. And your ring is on. The thumping in her chest picks up. Only slightly. 

“It’s great to see you again.” Jolene says shakily from beside Ellie and she almost loses it before a grating voice interrupts. 

“You, as well. And your husband is…?” 

Your mother. And her lap dog wagging his tail beside her. What a bitch. Both of them. 

Your stepdad says something and you inhale sharply and no one notices but Ellie. She studies you carefully. You look like a frightened cat with a frilled tail as he speaks. Claws out, not because you’re ferocious, but so, so scared. She glances at your stepdad; greasy smile while he ogles at Jolene; what a nasty son of a bitch. 

Ellie whispers to you, “Is everything o—“

“Joel! Man of the hour! How are—“

“Where’s the bathroom again?” You whisper back. 

Ellie takes your hand in hers and flees while the family’s distracted, leading you down a hallway that’s way too long with lights too bright. 

She gestures towards the door. “It’s… This is it. One of ‘em at least.” 

“… Thank—“

“What’s the matt—“ 

“I’m fine.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Did that piece of shit say something to you?” Ellie glances to make sure no listeners are hiding in the shadows. 

The widest smile grows on your face as you laugh, hearty and loud with your head thrown back. Ellie stares in confusion. 

“Oh, Ellie! You’re so silly,” She jumps when your hands hold her cheeks. You’re fucking freezing and they tremble. Your eyes are a dark void. 

You lean in closer, lips right against her mouth and they part slightly on instinct. She’s concerned and should ask more questions, but your skin is so soft. Are you gonna kiss her, she wonders? You haven’t kissed since your wedding; your breath hits her mouth and her tongue swipes her lips. Her eyes flutter shut and she aches to touch you—

“Save a seat for me, love? Please?” 

It happens so fast; the frost of you is gone and the bathroom door slams shut while an elderly woman fondly whispers, “young love,” as she walks by. Ellie only nods with a rigid curl of her lips, throat cinched too tightly to swallow. 

You puzzle her. She’s tempted to wait for you, to ensure you make it back safely without bombardment, but then 

“Ellie! Why didn’t you call me! Your wife made it safely, I see!” 

A hand claps on her shoulder while men laugh from the side, boisterous and predatory and so wide their fangs show. Ellie’s sick and a war rages within her. 

“Your father sent me to find you! It’s time to eat!” 

She sends them a weak smile. She rushes away from the door and they follow close behind. 

Anything to lure them away from you. 

Attendees have dwindled, only Ellie and her family and you and yours and some CEOs that are really getting on her fucking nerves. But you’ve eaten, thank God. She can breathe a little. 

Only a bit, though. You’re putting on a fucking show and it’s scaring her; Even her dad seems impressed. Charmed by you. Clinking glasses and telling jokes and smiling. Did your mom hold you at gunpoint before you got here? How much did you drink? Not much from what she’s seen. 

That one fucker from earlier — Raymon or Robert or whatever the fuck — keeps leaning over the table whenever you do. Peeping at your chest, probably. She wishes these steak knives were sharper. 

“So! Our young couple,” says Old Bitch with a Combover and wiggly brows, “When are we getting those heirs?” 

You cough uncomfortably and Ellie squirms in her seat. Your mother scoffs, “Two women can’t have children—“

Said Old Bitch shrugs, “Well, not biologically—“

“My point exactl—“

Ellie’s father cuts in with a tense grin, “When they get to that point, we’ll discuss their options. There’s… many nowadays, evidently.” 

Neither you or Ellie interrupt, but she notices you’ve moved closer to her. Inched your seat a bit. You squeeze your hands so hard in your lap she’s scared they’ll shatter where they lay. You’re not smiling anymore. 

Her dad and your mom are subtle with their blows at one another; snarky with brutal stares, unremarkable to strangers, but you and Ellie know. When dinner ends, you’ll both be caught in their crossfire. 

“There’s no shame in me wanting my grandchildren to be by blood. I shouldn’t have to go shopping for an heir.” Your mother hisses. 

“Sh—“ Joel huffs with disgust, “Shopping for an heir? That’s what you think adoption entails?” 

“Does it not?” Your mother’s tone rises. 

Reggie, Rory, or Russell interjects with a dismissive wave, “C’mon, you too! No need to argue. I’m sure girls like them will be fine with obtaining children! It might be more… complicated, I will say!” 

“May I be excused?” You croak, and Ellie straightens. 

“Why? So you can wallow about dying childless?” 

The table silences. No laughter, no wittiness. Completely still. That wasn’t from your mother. Ellie doesn’t remember the last time she’s heard your stepdad speak so clearly. Her blood thrashes beneath her skin so harshly that her tongue unties. There’s a darkness in her that whispers, “grab that steak knife”. Brutalize him. Just for a second. Do it for you. 

Do it for her. 

“Go fuck yourself.” She spits. 

Your neck almost cracks with the speed you turn to her, eyes wide as the moon. Her father condemns, “Watch your mouth, Ellie.” 

“Or what, you old fuck?” 

Her heart rattles noisily in her chest; her hands shake where they rest on her lap, her cells trembling with the instinct to harm. The gaze of her father is distant and filled with inadequacy for his only line. Nothing unbeknownst to her, but there's a flash of something so deep, so forbidden for them, but she sees it every time they hold contact. Beneath all the loathing and lesions left to drain, there’s longing. An inkling of gratitude that she knows he’ll suppress until he’s buried underground. He’ll never look the same to her, and she imagines the same for him. Too many bridges burned. 

“How’d I do?” Ellie rasps to him, “Hm? The night went how you hoped?” 

Look at what you’ve done, she hopes her eyes say. Tears welt against her will. When was the last time she cried in front of him? She hadn’t even given him that honor at her mother’s funeral years ago. 

Ellie’s stiff stature nearly cracks at the light brush atop her knee. A wind catches in her throat when a pinky turns into three fingers, then five, then a palm that squeezes comfortingly, desperately. Maybe partly to keep her glued to this chair. She gulps the dryness down and a flame lights in the pit of her stomach. 

Her glance to you is brief, barely out of the corner of her eye, but you’re watching her. Intensely, and it scorches her cheeks, all the way down to her neck. Scared cat. Scared cat. Shrilled and cold and frightened to hell and she despises it. 

What changed? She’ll always wonder. That look hardly shook her a week ago and now it makes her teeth ache. 

Suddenly, it’s too warm here. 

“Get up,” Ellie rushes you. Grabs your arm and yanks you from your seat, “Not dealing with this fuckin’ bullshit tonight. We’re leaving.” 

There’s suddenly shouting from all directions of the dinner table with each step Ellie takes for you, but you never drop her hand. She clenches it tighter when you finally reach the back door. 

The door slams shut on the wreckage behind you. 

Consider plan MERGE a bust. 

Ellie’s a thief. You think. Maybe. 

Is it stealing if the car belongs to a family member? Where she snagged the keys from? You don’t remember. One second you’re at dinner, then watching the city pass you by the next. It’s silent in here. 

“Stop.” 

You slam back into your body. Still in the car. You wish you were asleep. 

“Huh?” 

Her eyes watch the road, but a hand rests on both of yours to pry them apart. 

“Stop. I hate that sound.” 

“… Wha—“

“You’re gonna rip your skin off if you don’t stop.” 

… Oh. Yeah. Bloody cuticles. It was all accidental, you swear. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes shut briefly and she sighs, sounding so worn. Exhaustion is her white flag. “Just stop.” 

“Alright.” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s quiet again. The red from the stop light reflects in the car and you’re instantly reminded of your stepfather. 

“Ellie.” 

“Hm.” 

“We should get a bird.” 

“… And do what with it.” 

You shrug, “Pet it. Feed it, too.” Sing with it, you wanted to add. Ellie would’ve probably laughed at you. 

She snickers dryly, “That’s usually what you do with a pet.” 

“I never had one.” 

The light turns green and the car revs. Your wife hums, “I had a fish once or twice.” 

“Lucky.” 

A small — very, very minuscule grin quirks Ellie’s lips and your heart hollers. For joy? In warning? 

“Not really. They kept dying so I gave up.” She snickers to herself, and you can’t help but stare. She starts talking then. Eyes gone, tension gone. She’s suddenly relaxed. 

“My mom… she, uh… loved water. Was always in it or… watching it on TV or something. She always bought fish from fucking… PetCo—“

“PetCo?” You laugh, then Ellie does. 

“Right? She’d take me and be like, “get one”. And I went home with a new fish every time.” 

“I thought you only went once or twice?” 

“… Times 100,” She giggles, “My mom lived there. She would always talk to the cats through the glass.” 

You don’t hesitate, “I wanna go.” 

“To PetCo?” 

“Yeah.” Why not? 

Everything is almost over. So, why not? 

“… K.” 

“So we’ll go?” 

“Mhm.” 

And the conversation ends. The car is silent. Suddenly tense again when you ask, 

“Do you think we’re cut off?” 

Ellie’s jaw clenches and the car is suddenly tense. Back to square one. “Possibly. Tonight was a shit show. It went by fast, at least.” 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m…”

Alone. You’re fucking alone and know nothing about life outside of what was built around you. Without it, you’ll spiral and fail and face a dreadful reality. No more rose colored glasses even if they’re browned and wilted as is. You’ll be eaten alive by the creatures in the night without a protective border. 

But the curse will end. You won’t inherit or be forced to lie or play a game that ends in fire. Decades of legacy down the drain just like that, and by your own hand. It fascinates you, that power. A force you’ve been withheld from. 

“I don’t know.”

“Still thinking about divorce?” A void in Ellie’s tone. 

“I don’t know.” 

“They’ll never allow it, you know that, right?” 

“What if I just leave?” 

“And do what?” Her voice raises. 

“Who knows. Who cares.” 

“Please,” Ellie exasperates, “Your mom will get fucking SWAT to bring you back.” 

“What good will a corpse do for her?” 

You’ll be dead but you’ll have a bird. A colorful one. That’ll be your legacy. That’s all you need, really. Ellie doesn’t say anything. Neither do you. 

More buildings flash by and suddenly you’re home. Parked in the garage with Ellie beside you, gazing off into opaque walls. You wonder what she’s thinking. If she sees everything in black and white like you do. Maybe she’s the opposite, vision bright and full of suppressed color. She is a painter after all. 

“What’re your plans?” Ellie suddenly whispers. 

“For?” 

“Life. The future. Anything,” She pries and digs for something, “There has to be something that interests you! That gets you excited! There’s so much shit to do.” 

You shrug. Not much. Not anything. 

“I used to be excited for my wedding,” You mumble, “Like… as a kid. White dress and flowers and everyone’s just excited to be there. For love, and whatever, you know? That’s how it was in movies, at least.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s off your chest. The unhealthy romanticization of the happiest day of your life ended up being just another day to honor the greed of your families. Everyone was so lifeless when they watched you and Ellie kiss. It hadn’t even lasted 3 seconds before she shoved the band on your finger with teary cheeks. Such beautiful scenery was wasted on misery. 

You look over and Ellie’s eyes are roaring, palms squeezing together in her lap while her wedding ring twists around her finger. You watch it cycle. 

“Now I…” You chuckle sadly, “I just want a bird, to be honest.” 

With your heels and purse in hand, the car door opens and you exit, forcing yourself not to peek through the windshield at Ellie again. 

The second floor, your bedroom, your bathroom, are all quiet. Did Ellie not follow you inside? For a while, you envision what it would be like if you weren’t married. If you weren’t born as you, would your world be this still? 

It haunts you in the shower. Wolffish eyes and dry hands grasping at your shoulders and waist but everything’s quiet. 

You wash your face, brush your teeth, wrap your hair alone. You wonder if anyone is actually in the house. Was Ellie a figment of your imagination? Is this one of the nights that proves she doesn’t exist and that your brain is your greatest enemy? You shove your face into the mattress before your thoughts venture. Silence rocks you to sleep, but not forgetting the taunting desire to know 

Is death this quiet? 

Your mom’s calling. 

Vibrations rattle in your bedside dresser. The sun isn’t up yet. The birds are still resting. She never calls this early… or late. Something bad must’ve happened. It takes 17 seconds for your drawer to stop shaking before it starts again. 

You can’t move to answer, though. Your body isn’t yours at the moment. Your soul will reclaim its shell soon enough. Or maybe it won’t. 

Your drawer shakes shakes shakes. Your heartbeat eventually matches the pace of its vibrations. You think it’s been 20 minutes. Maybe longer. When will the birds wake? 

Finally, the calls stop. Your eyes shut again. Instantly taken by darkness. 

You never wear normal clothes. 

Ellie’s only ever seen you in thousand dollar dresses and high heel shoes that scrape your achilles and cloth that squeezes you so tight she thinks she might explode by just looking at you. No matter how fucking good you look in them. 

So what the fuck is that? Moreso, why does she like it so much? Her cheeks are on fucking fire and her heart is trying to flee its enclosing. 

You have a t-shirt on. A simple, non-Gucci white tee that says LAS VEGAS and black shorts and a scarf on your head and socks with squirrels on them. Is this the fucking matrix? 

You never wake up this late, either. It’s 20 till 10. 

“Did my mom call you at all?” 

No… no she didn’t… Why can’t Ellie speak? She’s sitting there gaping like a fish and taking guilty glances at your nipples through your shirt. She shakes her head. You nod yours. 

“I uh…” She mumbles with a cotton mouth when you step into the kitchen, “I made coffee.” 

“I smelled it.” You serve yourself at the counter. 2 Splenda packs, no cream.

“Did your mom call you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“I didn’t answer.” 

… Interesting. Odd. Her calls are never missed by you. 

“I hope it’s something bad.” 

Ellie swallows her sip thickly. “… Damn. Why?” 

“She deserves it.” You say calmly while stirring. “He does, too.” 

“Your dad?” 

“My stepfather,” You hiss and slam your mug on the table. Ellie flinches, “Yes.” 

Her palms raise in surrender, “Sorry.” 

“Where do you go at night?” The chair across from her scrapes on hardwood when you sit. 

Nowhere, recently. Ellie shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, “Anywhere. Wherever I want.” 

“Take me next time.” 

She pauses her sip to ogle. “Hm?” 

“Take me. I wanna see what’s fun for you.” 

Ellie huffs a shocked laugh, “No, you don’t.” 

You squint, “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking to see.” 

“It’s not your scene, dude, trust m—“

She jolts where she sits when a hand — your hand, soft and agile and cold, slams down on the table, rattling both your mugs and the vase that holds dead flowers, nearly shattering the glass with an accusatory finger. 

“You dunno know shit about me! I’m fucking going whether you like it or not! Whether she likes it or not, and if I have to do it myself, I fucking will, you fucking psychotic fucking bitch!” 

You rise and stomp to where she sits with a pounding heart and a lecherous swirl in her gut. You look about ready to slice her open with a blunt butter knife. 

“You treat me like fucking trash just like everyone else,” You whisper venomously, and Ellie shakes, “The least you could do is listen for once. Scared to take me to the place you cheat on me at? Don’t want me to see it? That’d be too real, huh?” 

Ellie exhales a shaky breath of your name, but your nails, cut and manicured to perfection, sink into her cheeks so tightly that she winces and blushes and her tummy twists with heat. You don’t flinch when her fingers delicately entangle around your wrist; doesn’t want you to think she’s holding you there even though she is. 

“You’re gonna show me a good time tonight. If it’s as fun as you say, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?” 

Her eyes must read yes, yes, it’s not a problem; Your grin is wild like a hyena; pretty lips swelled around pretty teeth and you always smell good. Caramelized sugar and nectar.  

“Who knows,” You purr and Ellie feels goosebumps forming, “Maybe I can meet one of your little friends.” 

She chokes around a gasp before her lips curl into a conniving grin, cheeks plush around your fingers, “Aren’t you a little hussy.” 

“Fuck you.” You shove her so hard her back collides with the seat but her eyes glow pink. She watches you leave the kitchen and stomp up the steps with a burning chest until a door slams from upstairs. She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, wracked and desperate. 

-

-

-

Ellie will never admit — or maybe she will, but she purposefully uses your shared bathroom to catch glimpses at you. She always expects to find you out cold and wrapped in warm blankets, chest fluttering with each twitch of your socked feet that peek from below the blankets. 

What she doesn’t expect to see, though, is your phone shattered to pieces and left to drown in the clogged sink. Right next to a weighted rubber mallet; Where’d you find that? All your pent up emotions were taken out on your device… and the counter, apparently. The marble is chipped. 

She can only laugh in astonishment. Amazement. Fear when she realizes… 

Your mom.

Did you ever answer the phone?

Another day you’ve slept away. Either you were dreaming or someone was holding you suffocatingly tight; you enjoyed it, strangely. The sun is completely gone and there’s rustling and music echoing from the bathroom. Ellie’s in there. 

All the blood rushes to your head with how quickly you sit up, but your feet carry you past your closets until the light from the room sizzles your vision. 

Your wife stands by the mirror, drying her hair with a towel with a cigarette between her fingers. The guitar synths coming from her phone are grinding in your ears. 

Is she really keeping her promise? 

Did she promise to take you? You don’t remember. 

“Hi.” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and your spine twitches. You say nothing, so she chuffs with a teasing lift of her lips, “Chickenin’ out?”

“No.” 

“K.” 

“What do I wear?” 

She shrugs, “Whatever you want to.” She speaks around smoke and her timbre’s dry. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Whatever I want to.” 

She must sense your skepticism because she’s suddenly reassuring, voice crackly, “You’re not under any expectations tonight. You wanted me to show you what I do for fun, and I’m gonna. You just have to do your part and enjoy it.” 

Your nails dig into your thighs while you watch her. She has her ring on and her body wash coats the room in cinnamon. With a pounding heart, your hands slowly drag up your sides, fingers dragging at the hem of your shirt. She’s not looking. 

Enjoy it…

“Did you eat today?” 

“No.” 

She gives you a look. Stern. What is she mad about? Your tummy flutters, “There’s leftovers downstairs, you can have ‘em,” She shakes her wet hair and puts on her glasses, checks her watch, checks her phone, hits her cigarette. “We’re kinda behind so you should get read—“

Enjoy it. 

Her eyes meet where your shirt drops to the floor, breasts on display while your hands inch up your legs to drag your shorts down, all while you watch her. And she watches you. It’s overwhelming, your wife as an audience while you undress. But she told you to enjoy it. Enjoy the night. Enjoy the stares. Enjoy the attention. Enjoy her, for once. It all seeps into your pores. You step out of your bottoms and peel your socks off. 

Ellie drinks you in slowly. Says nothing. Simply takes her time memorizing every line, curve, dip, scar of you. You like how ravenous she looks. The sin in her pupils only darkens when your thumbs hook in your underwear to shed them. They dangle from your index finger when you walk; You smile when her throat jumps. 

She watches your filled hand travel to her pant pocket to shove the flimsy cloth in. The muscles in her back twitch when your finger traces her spine. Ellie’s pretty, littered in cute, red and brown spots. 

“I’m gonna shower.” Your lips brush her ear, and goosebumps rise all over her arms. Her eyes flutter in a pleasant blink, nodding in understanding. 

Your wife takes her lighter and reignites your favorite candle while your water warms. How sweet of her to set the mood for you. 

Ellie finishes her cigarette while you lather, watching her through the fogged glass of the shower walls, massaging soapy hands into your breasts and your legs and everywhere. She lights another at some point, bent over the counter while she smokes, ogling you through the mirror shamelessly. You smile when it settles in your chest.

You’re gonna fuck your wife tonight. 

What a fucking oddball you are. It’s cute. A little sexy, too. Only a little, she swears. 

… Fuck. 

She waits for you on the bed, dressed and jewelried, fiddling with her watch out of nerves because what the fuck are you playing at? Whiplash; that’s what she’s had all fucking day because of you. She works in the morning, for fucks sake. 

Still…

Does she deserve this sudden… What the fuck even is this? Certainly not affection; you nearly strangled her at the dining table. Attention, possibly? Seduction? She’s wired to hell, she wants you so bad. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She could act on her attraction, sure. She’s positive you’d allow her to take whatever she wanted because that’s what you’re trained to do; to satisfy your partner — husband, she imagines your mother grating — in any way he desires. But Ellie’s not a man, and she doesn’t want that. She needs you to love it, to crave it as much as she does. To take from her like she dreams of taking from you. Ellie needs you to batter her, and if you’d like, she’ll do the same to you. 

If only you’d give her something tangible. Teasing isn’t enough. She’s desperate to get a grasp on your headspace; she wishes she could prick and prod at your brain for a second. What an experience that would be. 

You enter the bedroom like a ghost; hair still wet and coily, dressed in all black like she is, only decorated with gloss and earrings. No heels either. Just very shimmery looking flip-flops. Ellie bites down a smile. 

“Where are we going?” 

She shrugs at your inquiry, “Somewhere really, really loud.” 

“Will people find us?” Paps, you mean. Ellie denies. 

“Not where I’m taking you.” 

“Must be secretive.” 

She tuts, “Not… well, maybe. It’s fun though. I think you’ll like it.” 

“Okay.” 

Ellie stands with her wallet and keys and kiddingly offers you an arm to hold onto. “M’lady.”

But you don’t accept it; back turned, halfway out of the room towards the stairs.

Pleasant. She doesn’t mean to smile. 

She makes sure to grab the to-go box from earlier before locking the front door behind her. 

It is very loud here. And hot. And raunchy. 

… You like that. Your mom would have a heart attack if she were to ever walk in here. 

The trip to this whatever, wherever place was pretty far. You counted every second of the nearly hour ride, mainly because Ellie’s jittery knee made you nervous. It’s smaller than you assumed, but not quaint. Not at all. There's a ruckus from the entrance to the back exit, people your age and older, screaming and shouting words that you don’t know while people pound on drums and shred on guitar. They sweat through their clothes while their makeup streaks down their faces as they make love to microphone stands. 

… Better than tea time, you suppose. How exhilarating. Your heart’s pounding like crazy.

Not much can be said between you and Ellie. You can’t hear over the bass and rumbles from the floor but she holds your hand and small purse. Guides you to a small section in the back with a bar. She hands the tender her card and… that’s it. Four clear, questionably large shots are poured and slid to her like nothing. You want all of them. 

Ellie seems so at home as she guides you, already a burning shot down, into the crowd. You’re shoved instantly by party goers, but she catches you, holds you strongly. You look at her, puzzled with shock, but she uncaringly lifts her shoulders, downs a shot, and starts thrashing. 

Your jaw slacks and lights beam and flicker at a rapid pace but you’re smiling. Your wife meshes with the scene so nicely. You wanna be like that. So you follow. You drink and jump and flail and scream your head off. 

You and your wife are synched for once. Terrible dancers. No rhythm whatsoever. Who cares who cares who cares.

You wish your mom was here to see you like this. You hope your mom’s dead so she never has to see you like this. A thought so dark shouldn’t bring you this much joy. You laugh and holler at the imagery. Blood all over the marble. Blood all over the doors of your childhood home. Blood blood blood everywhere because they deserve it. Look at what they’ve done to you. Sick evil people.

You wanna kill your stepfather. This music makes you wanna kill your stepfather. It’s gorey in itself, almost. Abborherent verbiage. You think Ellie wants to kill your stepfather, too. You should ask her later. Maybe when you're both sober. Maybe you should make your mom watch you skin him alive. Him dying would damage her more than you ever could. 

When your eyes open, Ellie’s gawking at you, seemingly surprised. Impressed? She holds your cheeks to get your attention, gesturing, asking if you want another drink. You nod and shout in her face and she laughs. Ellie holds you by the waist and guides you to the bar. The bartender must like Ellie. You leave with a full bottle this time. 

You and Ellie pass it between yourselves, the night becoming more and more broken. Touchy. Feely. Ellie rubs all over you while you pour liquor into her mouth. A bit dribbles down the sides but she doesn’t care. You don’t either. So you lick the drops from her neck like a cat with milk. Ellie stops and you stop and everything stops. It’s just the two of you, suddenly; all other patrons evaporate to nothingness. Her eyes are blown and heavy as she searches your face, and they halt their wandering at your lips. She’s thinking about it; You want her to see how bad you crave it. Even if it’s just for a second. She smiles, pleased. You shudder. 

But she doesn’t do it. She spins you so your back is against her chest, lips at your neck while she pushes her hips into your ass. She’s messy, drenching your already sweaty neck in spit. Her nails dig into the fabric of your dress, guiding your hips, swaying you on her. You follow. You follow so blindly because you like her hands on you a little too much. You drink and drink and drink. Everything feels light. Good. 

You think Ellie’s speaking to you. Or singing words in your ear. Or maybe she isn't speaking at all. You’re not sure, but your face is burning hot. She tongues at your ear and you make a noise that you can’t hear but hope she can. You need this. 

Her hands are suddenly slow where they crawl up your sides until they rest on your breasts. Your empty hand lands on one of hers to squeeze so that she can squeeze you. You feel her smiling on your skin when your jaw slacks. 

Your head turns to chase her mouth, but she does you one better. Whisks you once more so your chests smash together. She snatches the bottle from your hand, takes one last swig before passing it to eager, drunk hands that wave from behind. You gasp when her thumb catches your bottom lip, pulls it down to get your mouth open enough for her to dribble liquor into. You moan loud enough for Ellie to hear over those booming drums, swallowing down everything she gives, nails sank into her waist while her hips push into yours. When you swallow the last drops, she kisses you. Messy and hot, tongue and teeth; it gets your heart singing. Her pink muscle swirls inside of your mouth and your arms wrap around her neck, yanking her into you so no space is left. Her hands are everywhere; tangled in your hair, grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs. Everywhere everywhere everywhere like she can’t get enough of you. You’re overwhelmed and high out of your mind but you follow her guide. Anywhere she wants you, you are. 

Maybe you’re just as bad as she is. After everything she’s done, you should hate her. You think you do. You hate her for leaving you. You hate her for embarrassing you. Abandonment. Her only gift to you. Maybe that’s why you kiss her with such conviction. 

Her touch is passionate; strong but not forceful. She breathes you in like a rarity, something she treasures, all while she licks and tugs at you like a slut. There’s a pulse deep within you when her lips enclose around your tongue to suck it. Your thighs squeeze and she grins madly, giving you one last innocent peck before she grabs your hand to spin you. You laugh and twirl with her. 

You understand why people fall in love so fast. You hate that you’re one of them. 

Or are you simply as delusional as they come? 

You’re even more enthralling when free of restraint. 

Ellie’s drunk and sweaty and exhausted but she uses every last bit of strength to stare at you. She sits at the bar as the crowd dwindles, artist after artist, established or aspiring, all go on to perform, and you haven’t taken a break once. You simply twirl and spin and mouth incorrect lyrics with the widest smile on your face, all while Ellie brings you her drinks to finish. 

You’ve been here for hours it seems, but Ellie can’t drive. But the night is young. You certainly don’t look ready to go home. 

What more can she show you?

“Thank you all for comin’ out! Tonight was a dream—“

You’re a dream, Her chest screams. You you you you fuck—

You clap like the happiest seal on the planet before spinning around to face Ellie. It happens in flashes: you come closer and closer until you’re in front of her, warm hands on her cheeks, ears tingling when you whisper, 

���I didn’t get to meet your sluts.” 

You sound upset about it. Ellie stumbles about how they didn’t come, how they’re not here. How she doesn’t wanna see them right now and she means it all, but you don’t believe her, and her chest hurts. Guilty guilty guilty. 

“Get up.” You step away and Ellie pains to pull you back, savor the night a second longer. But she signs the receipt before following you towards the exit. The cold air feels so good. She needs water now. 

She gives you a little yank when you start wandering the opposing direction, “Come… come here. This way.” 

You grin and slur, “Where to?” 

Ellie’s brows wiggle playfully, “Gas station. You hungry?”

“…Yes.”

Ellie extends her hand for you to hold, and surprisingly, you accept. Her heart jolts to life. 

The walk is quiet. Your eyes are glued to the sky, wide and innocent; the large moon entrances you, surrounded by glittery stars. You both wobble down the sidewalk, trying to avoid bumping into pedestrians and other drunkards. She thought the rowdiness of nightlife would frighten you, but you seem drawn to the chaos.  

Soon enough, you’re both surrounded by aisles filled with chips and sodas and a fuck ton of candy. Ellie cringes at the fond stares she gives you holding 4 packs of watermelon sour patches. You’re cute as hell right now. Have you never been to a convenience store? What the fuck. 

“El! El, what the fuck! Where ya been!” 

Her sluggish brain is trying — really trying to figure out who the hell just left the staff room and is walking towards the two of you. It’s someone that knows her name or whatever shortened version they’ve created and the closer this person gets the more you shield yourself behind her fuck fuck fuck

Arms latch around her neck in a strong hug. Muscular, nice voice, smells like cherries. 

Abigail Anderson. Shoulda known. Great. 

“Jesus fuck, you smell like my dad’s liquor cabinet! We fucking missed you! We haven’t seen you in…” 

When Abby pulls back, her eyes immediately find you. Ellie steals a glance; eyes wide, soft with curiosity. They darken slightly when they lock onto Abby’s shoulders, all the way down to her arms and Ellie… why the fuck does that annoy her? 

“Who’s that,” Abby whispers suggestively and Ellie sighs. Scratches at her eye in irritation. 

“I’m her wife.” You say causally, and it shocks both of them. Abby moreso. Did Ellie never tell her? She’s sure she did. Everyone knows she’s married… right?

“Wh— wife?” Her eyes shift onto Ellie, “Bitch, you got married? What the fuc— when—“

“3 months ago.” You answer.

“Fucking — holy shit. Congrats? Uhh… sorry! Nice to meet you! You’re gorgeous, by the way,” She stutters to shake your hand, but you accept it, “I’m Abby!” 

“Hi.” You smile in delight and your shoulders relax. Abby smiles just as gently and Ellie thinks it’s time to go because you’re both getting on her nerves. 

“Alright, well, we're gonna pay, so… yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow or something. We’re tired.” 

“Mhmm,” Abby hums cockily, eyes glued to the mess Ellie made of your neck, “Looks like y’all had a great time.” 

“We did,” She confirms with pointed eyes, “See ya.” 

“Byeee.” Abby sing-songs with a chuckle before Ellie leads you towards the service counter to dump your snacks. Ellie gives the cashier a familiar nod. 

“Is she who you fuck?” 

Ellie chokes on her water and the cashier gawks at you from behind their reading glasses. You couldn’t have been any fucking louder in that moment, what the fuck.

“What—“

“Do you fuck Abby? I hope not in that bathroom,” You clumsily point to the gender neutral sign near the entrance. “I heard they’re filthy—“

Ellie whispers even though there’s no point, “Dude, are you fucking crazy—“

“… It's just a question—“

“Have a nice night.” 

The cashier rigidly hands Ellie the stuffed baggie and receipt. She snatches them before snatching you to leave. She drops your hand the second briskness surrounds you, “The fuck was that about?” Her chips are calling her. She needs a stress reliever. 

“What—“

She squeezes the bag and the pop rings like a gunshot, “Why the fuck are you asking if I fucked Abby? What the fuck—“

“She’s hot and you kinda are… to a certain degree, I guess. I just assumed.” 

Ellie’s appalled, but doesn’t have the energy to look offended. “Stop assuming, it’s… that’s fucking weird—“

You simply shove tiny watermelon slices in your mouth and steal her water to chug it. She watches you impatiently before you hand the crumpled, half-empty plastic back to her. She downs the rest and discards it some-fucking-where. 

Her thoughts are clouded. Did she fuck Abby? Are you forreal—

“I don’t care, you know.”

“About what?” 

You shrug, “If you fuck her.” 

“Please be quiet.”

“Okay.” 

You both do for a while, dead grass and Dorritos crunching around you. 

Until Ellie speaks again. 

“You’re quiet.” 

“Mhm.”

“Sleepy?”

“Nmhm.” 

Wide awake, actually. The world passes you by with each step the two of you take, swirling with bright lights and laughter. You follow Ellie closely, handfuls of candy shoved in your mouth while she munches on her chips. You never had those orange triangles before. Neither of you are in a rush to make it back to the car. Can Ellie drive in this state?

“Do you, uh, like places like that? Concerts?” 

“Yes.” You break out in a grin. 

“What else do you like?” 

“I dunno. I haven’t… experienced much.” You shrug, accidentally brushing against your wife’s shoulder. Electricity sparks near the end of your spine where a steadying hand rests. “Your friend… does she go with you? To concerts?” 

“Who?”

“Aaabby.” You tease, mocking the blonde girl from earlier, and Ellie’s expressions flattens. She's unsure why. 

“Oh, uh… yeah,” Her chip bag is suddenly very interesting. “Sometimes. I met her at one a few years back after a showcase I hosted.” 

“I like her.” She’s nice and smells nicer. You regret not shaking her seemingly strong hand a few seconds longer. Strong all over, actually. 

“… Uh huh.” 

Your brow arches at that, “Does that bother you?” 

“Why the fuck would it bother me? You can like whoever.”  

“Exactly how you like whoever, huh?” You sneer lazily, and Ellie goes stoic. And just like that, the conversation dies once more. You’re glad for it; selfishly, you’d rather refrain from telling your wife about how attractive you found her friend. She’s left you guessing under too many circumstances. Consider this a sliver of revenge. 

You both make it back to the parking lot in silence, minus Ellie’s agitated crunching. You lean against the passenger door while you watch her dig around for the keys. 

“Where to?” 

“It's almost 4 in the morning.” She hisses. 

“So?” You came home later than that for weeks. You wanna say it. You should say it. Grind your thumb deeper into that open wound, but you save it. Another day, maybe. Maybe not. 

“So we’re going home. I’m tired.” 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Okay? Whatever, I’ll drop you off somewhere.” 

“You wouldn’t leave your poor, defenseless wife unattended, would you?” You whisper slowly, and Ellie tenses when you plant a soft hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge you, just stares through the window behind you. You scoff and drop it by your side. Cross your arms stubbornly. 

“You’re mad because I like Abby.”

“There’s nothing for you to like! You just met her.” Her voice raises, and annoyance flares in you. 

“Exactly! I just met her, and I like her! The fuck did you think I was gonna do? Flash her right in front of the gummy worms?” 

“I don’t know! Fucking maybe!”

“So you can fuck other people but I can’t?” 

Ellie’s very close to you suddenly. Your heart jumps, “Oh, now you wanna fuck Abby? She’s the first person you’ve interacted with besides me since we got fucking married!” 

“SO?” You holler. 

“SO YOU’RE NOT FUCKING MY FRIEND! ARE YOU INSANE!” Speckles of spit land on your face and it sizzles into your pores. You might be. You fucking are. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Ellie’s forcing herself into your space, so why do you fight? Why are you hungry? 

Your palms crash into her chest and she nearly loses her balance, “I DON’T NEED PERMISSION FROM YOU! WE’LL FINALLY BE EVEN, YOU FUCKING WHORE!” 

“Yeah? Think Imma fucking whore?” Her grin is sinister, and excitement coils in your belly. Gets your fingers twitching from how hard they’re clenched. 

“Maybe I do.” Vehemence scathed your tongue. 

“You know what I think?” 

“I don’t care—“

“I think you do.” She mumbles against your cheek, “I think you’re jealous.” 

You still. Ellie’s eyes pierce through yours, burning and hot, nostrils flared: she looks like she could snap you in half. Your spine tingles with delirium. 

“You’re mad because I get to be. I can exist and fuck and party and come and go as I please and you hate it. You wish you could do what I do.” She stares like you killed her mother yourself. Strangled her with your bare hands. “I don’t have mommy and daddy breathing down my neck every 2 seconds. You want that so bad it makes you sick.” 

“So why stay?” 

It shocks her. You don’t waver; passive as usual. 

“You’re free and can do whatever you want, right? Why are you here? Go and be that. Be whoever you wanna be because you can.”

Everything will be over soon. Might as well. Ellie simply glares through you. 

Curiosity is your worst enemy. Might as well ask. 

“Why’d you defend me at dinner?” 

What does she know what does she know what does she know what

She rubs her eyes stubbornly, “Oh my fucking god, who gives a fuck!” 

“Me! I give a fuck! Why’d you do it! Why! You’ve never done it before!” 

She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows

“BECAUSE FUCK HIM! FUCK EVERYBODY THAT DID THIS TO US! FUCK YOU, TOO!” 

You might cry, you might not. You’re unsure of everything and you’re angry and hurting. Ellie’s a reflection of you, and vise-versa. You hate her hate her hate her. 

Hatred. It might be the reason why kissing her feels so good. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Ellie shouldn’t have you trapped between her and her car, grinding so harshly into you that your spine bends. You shouldn’t tug at her hair to expose her neck to lick and suck and bite her neck red while she curses in your ear. 

This is the distraction you’ve been desperately searching for. To think you’d find it in your wife after all this time. 

“I’d be a whore for you,” She shamelessly seers against your throat, hands wandering to unbutton her own pants, “You know that, right?” 

… That’s cute. Makes you blush. 

“Yeah?” Her laugh is thick like syrup, “Gets you hot? Knowing how easily I’d give it up for you?” 

That sideways grin makes you tick. Your hand closes tight around her throat and she nearly bloodies her bottom lip with her fangs. Your wife looks pathetic; thumbs hooked into her pants, so ready to drop them for you in the middle of the parking lot. People are wandering about; she’s willing to fuck in front of them? 

How pretty would she look trying to be quiet for you? Nervous eyes searching for privacy, praying no one walks by and sees her on the edge with your hand down her underwear. Hopefully no one recognizes her, pulls out their phone, records the two of you. Blasts you both on social media while Ellie moans in your mouth. What would people think? Your families? How ashamed would they be? Their two girls making a mess of themselves in public. 

The thought makes you smile. Scares you. Makes you choke her harder. Her pained whine vibrates in your palm. 

“Get the fuck in the car.” 

The windows fog with the heat of your bodies; her body trapped beneath yours in the back seat that’s roomier than you anticipated. She rolls your hips on top of her, desperate and eager to rip your fucking clothes off and feel you for real. Your dress rests around your hips, your panties on display and she wishes she could see them. She only has her hands for reference, tracing over each thin seam littered with lace and patterns she tries to memorize. Your tongue belongs in her mouth. You feel so fucking good; you’re not close enough. She needs you closer. 

Her mouth chases yours when you finally separate, only connected by a thin string of saliva, but a stern hand collides with her chest to keep her flat. Her hands tickle your waist. Rests your dress even higher until she can see your belly button. 

“Wanna know a secret?” You whisper down at her, and she smirks. 

“I know you’re a virgin, baby.” She whispers giddily, and your teeth grit. A flame coils in your chest. You ignore her.

“You could’ve had me after our wedding, you know? With my face buried in the pillows and my ass in your face. I would’ve let you do whatever you wanted that night.” 

Your sudden vulgarity stuns her silent. Your wife looks like she’s imagining it; lip bruised from both your and her teeth, mind racing with filth of you in every position she can think of. She wouldn’t have been able to separate from you if that was the case. It’s one of the reasons she kept her distance; those pretty brown eyes rolled back would’ve put her underground. She’d never tell you that. 

“But no,” You say like it aches, “You wanted to go and bend over all those girls that follow you around like fucking dogs. You wanted a bitch, not a wife. Right or wrong?” 

She can barely breathe and your hand pressing on her chest isn’t helping; reduces her to sharp gasps that make her lightheaded. The more ragged they become, the harder you press. Your brow arches when she innocently bares her teeth. 

Her palms squeeze at your ass, “I thought about you the entire time—“

Your hand cracks and her head flies to the side. Right on her left cheek is the already reddening imprint of your hand. The crackles in your palm are numbed by the alcohol and your core burns at the shock on her face. She gawks off to the side, that meddling smile dropped completely, chest ragged with her breaths. 

“Ellie, put your hands down.” You spit, and they drop from you completely, palms flat on the seat beneath her. 

“You had every chance to do right by me and you wasted every single one.” You sound like you’re about to cry; Ellie’s too scared to look at you. Not the good scared that she’s felt around you this entire time, but a hollow scared. The one that freezes you. Her fight or flight is triggered. 

“I think you owe me an apology.” You whisper against her burning face before you kiss it gently. A pained groan escapes her, and you laugh. Loud, in her face. Even louder when she tries to grind her hips up into you. 

“Take us home, wife.” 

[justmeinadaze]

November Rain (Boxer!Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I dreamed about this idea and my time of the month fueled it.

Please Enjoy <3

Warnings: Older (Early to Mid 30s) Dominate Boxer Eddie X Plus Size Fem younger (early to mid 20s) sub Y/N, SMUT, Daddy kink (because Im me), light spanking, big dick Eddie Munson :P, etc.

ANGST, reader meets the boxer while on a date with someone else, mentions of pain from the ring but nothing too dramatic, reader and Eddie mentions just getting out of relationships, nothing negative is mentioned about Y/N size <3. All positive and Eddie thinks she's perfect :). CLIFFHANGER ENDING 😈

Word Count: 4753

Other Eddie Stories here/ Donate to Me

"When I look into your eyes

I can see a love restrained

But darlin' when I hold you

Don't you know I feel the same?"

“Paige, I hate you. This guy is the worst.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad! Lol. Where did he take you?”

“A boxing match.”

“NO! Lol. Oh my god. I hate boxing and how the fuck are you supposed to talk there?”

“He’s taking me to a bar after.”

“Text me when you get home so I know you’re not dead :P.”

“Love you to, dork.”

“Who are you talking to?”, your blind date asks as he lightly nudges you with his shoulder. 

“Paige. I’m just telling her how nice you are and that you haven’t murdered me yet.”

“Ha! Well, the night’s still young.”, he laughed causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion, not out of fear but annoyance that he thought that was the appropriate thing to say to someone he only met an hour ago.

When your friend and roommate suggested you go on this blind date you originally declined. You had just gotten out of a 2-year relationship and wasn’t in the mood to dive back in. After a couple of lonely (and needy) nights, you changed your tune. 

She insisted he was a nice guy she knew from work and he absolutely was but it didn’t overshadow his awkward personality. When he suggested coming to a boxing match, you were actually intrigued thinking it was an out of the box idea instead of going to the movies or dinner. As the small arena began to fill, you found yourself more fascinated by the people around you casually talking about one of the fighters. 

Eddie Munson was a “veteran” in the field, being a bit older than most boxers in the ring. He had won multiple matches but for whatever reason managers and venues didn’t take him seriously. The kid he was fighting had many accolades and higher stats but his wins matched his opponents from the pamphlet you skimmed through while you two waited. 

As the lights lowered and both men were introduced into the ring, you couldn’t help but focus on the older boxer. He was extremely handsome with his sharp jaw and intense, piercing eyes that commanded attention. His chest and muscular arms were littered with tattoos that accented his physique perfectly.  

With all the cheering and commotion around the ring, you were surprised when his eyes landed on you. He tried to look away but you noticed his gaze kept lingering back to where you were sitting. Trying not to appear intimidated, you smirked his way and leaned back in your seat where your date’s arm was strewn along the back. The boxer slowly took you in, scanning along the short sleeve black dress that clung tightly to your busty chest and large curves. Your high heeled shoe absently tapped the air as he glanced down your legs and back up to your face. 

Someone you assumed was his coach, tapped his shoulder and forced him to focus as he screamed instruction into his ear. Rising to his feet, the person took his robe before he headed for the middle of the ring. On his short stride, his gaze shifted towards you again making your smile grow as you silently mouth the words “Good Luck.”

Eddie jumps slightly as the announcer’s voice flows loudly near him startling him as you giggle and he shakes his head.

***

“Yeah so I do contracting at this firm and it’s so stupid but…”

You don’t know if your date notices but your eyes had begun to glaze over as he spoke. Your date seemed like a nice enough guy but was definitely not your cup of tea. The one thing you feared about dating again was mundane shit that came with casual conversation. You always wished you could skip over this part and get to the moment where you were comfortable again. 

“I feel like I’m droning on and on. Tell me about you.”

“Oh…um…there’s not much to tell really.”

“Of course there is. Tell me about your job, your family, everything!”, he chuckles a bit too enthusiastically as you try to hide your cringe behind your smile. 

“Excuse me, miss. Telephone for you.”, the bartender interrupts as he points at his phone near the end of the counter.

“Oh, thank you. Excuse me.”

After hopping down from your stool, you make your way to the telephone and put it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“I thought maybe I’d give you a minute of peace from chatty Cathy.”, the smooth voice on the other end laughs. 

“Hm. How do you know I wasn’t enjoying the chat?”, you ask as your eyes fleet around the bar.

“Well first off, you were way too eager to get away. I mean you didn’t even ask who was calling. Add in the fact that your face is worth a thousand words, sweetheart.”

It takes you another few seconds before you find your mystery caller leaning against the wall by the front door on his cell phone. The long-haired boxer’s grin grew when your eyes met his as his subtly waved his fingers in your direction. 

“Wanna get out of here?”

“I’m in the middle of date. I can’t just leave.”, you tease knowing full well you’d let him kidnap you if that meant leaving this date behind.

“There’s only so long you can keep up this rouse before he starts getting suspicious so I would make a decision quickly.”

“Pfft, his brain doesn’t move that fast.”

The man’s laugh echoed into your ear straight to your heart as you blushed, glad that you had the ability to make someone laugh like he just had. 

“Honey, a woman as beautiful as you in that sexy dress shouldn’t be bored out of her mind. She should be having her mind blown.”

“And you’re the man to do that?”

“I’d like to try if you give me the chance. I have a feeling you’re not easy to please like all these other giggly girls and I like a challenge.”

“Smooth, Mr. Munson.”, you giggle.

“Ah, so you were there to see me fight.”

“No, sir. It was just a happy accident.”

“Ooooo sir. I like that. You can just call me Eddie for right now though.”

“I prefer the term Daddy.”

It was no longer subtle that the two of you were staring at each other from across the bar. His breathing stutter slightly and you bit your bottom lip to force them to remain still even though you wanted to smirk his way. 

“Y/N? Everything alright?”, your date asked as he placed himself in the chair next to where you were standing. 

“Y/N.”, Eddie repeated as if he was trying to familiarize himself with your name. When you didn’t reply, your date’s palm reaches out to slide down your arm and take your hand in his. “I’m counting every second he touches you. That’s how many times I’m going spank you for allowing it.”

A tear runs down your cheek and you see regret flash through his eyes, worried he may have gone too far before he sees you hang up the phone and pull your hand from your date’s grasp. 

“I have to go. My brother was in-in an accident.”, you cry as you make a beeline to where the boxer was standing near the coat check desk. “Excuse me.”, you murmur as your arm brushes chest, the contact sending a little electricity through you both. 

“No problem.”, he mumbles as he turns to leave, making sure the back of his hand grazes yours as he does. 

“Do you want me to drive you—”

“No, no its ok. My sister lives close by so she’s going to pick me up. She’s the one that called.”

“Ok, well, let me at least wait with you.”

“Alright. You pay and I’ll wait outside.”

After he nods, you sprint outside to find Eddie sitting on a motorcycle offering you a helmet. 

“Really?”, you sass as you take it from his hand and slide it onto your head. 

“Psh like you don’t like it.”

Revving the engine, you cling to his waist as he drives off into the night.

***

Your eyebrow raises as pulls up to a gym and sifts through his pockets to search for his keys. 

“Yeah, um, welcome to my humble abode for the time being.”

“You live in a gym?”

“I live in the back of a gym. Big difference.”

“Oh absolutely.”, you jest as you allow him to lead you inside. “I would figure with how good of a fighter you are, you’d have Rocky 4 levels of riches.”

Again, he cackles as he throws his head back and in that moment, you started to realize you would do anything to continue hearing that sound. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone from your generation mention such an old movie.”

“It’s not that old and neither are you.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet.”, he smiles as he opens another door in the back and gestures you inside. “I kind of started boxing a bit late in the game compared to everyone else around me. Some of these kids have been doing it their whole lives and I only started training 10 years ago.”

As you take in his little room, Eddie heads to his mini fridge to grab a couple of beers. You could tell, he hadn’t been here long, living out of a suitcase for the time being. 

“How long are you stuck here?”

“I actually just got an apartment so I move in, in about a month.”

“What happened to your last place?”

Eddie smiles as he hands you one of the bottles in his hand. 

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m inquisitive.”, you smirk back as tilt the beer to clink with his before taking a sip. “I need to know if this is where you take your hookups to hide from your wife.”

“What makes you think I’m married?”

“Huh.”, you muse as you take a seat on his couch/bed. “Most men would immediately deny. ‘Oh, no, baby! I’m not married. I swear.’”

The boxer rushes forward as you speak to hastily move his sheets and pillow on to another chair before taking a seat beside you. 

“I’m, um, no I’m not married.”, he chuckles nervously. “Full transparency, I actually just got out of relationship so if I seem…awkward…that’s why.”

“I think you’re doing alright.”, you smile as you turn to face him getting more comfortable and he does the same. “Better than chatty Cathy.”

Again, he laughs and again you swoon. 

“If it makes you feel better I just got out of a two-year relationship myself.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. How long has it been?”

“A few months.”

“Geez and you’re already dating?” When you don’t laugh like he does, Eddie panics as you sip your beverage. “No, that came out wrong. I just meant that you’re doing better than me. It’s been a year since I’ve even seen my ex and dating hadn’t even crossed my mind. Fuck, I sound like an idiot.”

Your giggle pierces his heart and he melts in relief. 

“No, you don’t. May I ask what made you find the confidence to ask me over?”

“I saw you from the ring and thought you were a fucking angel I’d never see again. When I walked into the bar and saw you, I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity slip away.”

“Wow. Smooth again, Mr. Munson.”

“I thought you preferred Daddy.” You blushed as your head dipped, trying to hide your eyes but his callused fingers quickly reached out to grab your chin forcing you to look at him again. “This…This goes without saying but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just talk or—”

Your lips on his interrupted his gentlemanly speech before tilting back slightly so your mouth wasn’t far but you could still see his face. 

“Do I make you nervous, Daddy?”

“Fuuuuuuuck.”, Eddie whispers as both palms cup your cheeks. “I don’t want t-to disappoint you.”

Slowly, you crawl over him till your straddling his lap and take hold of his hands to guide them to your wide hips.

“You won’t, baby, but if this isn’t something you’re into—”

“No, no, no. I’m into it.”, he rushes making you giggle as his face flushes with embarrassment at his earnestness. “My ex wasn’t… she tried for me a couple of times but...”

“You never really fully got to take control?”

“I told you it’s been a while since I’ve dated but it’s been even longer since I was able to be Daddy.”

“Sounds lonely.” His head tilts to the side at your statement as his brows furrow. “People don’t understand it but when I’m in my little girl headspace I feel safe when I’m with the right partner. It’s natural for me sometimes when I’m intimate to slip into that mode and if I was with someone who couldn’t satisfy that… I would feel lonely…like I did something wrong.”

When your eyes meet his again, Eddie’s smiling up at you with a softness you appreciate. 

“Thank you for coming to my TED talk.”

His body shakes as he laughs and you feel the energy in the room lighten. 

Comfortable.

Bringing your lips to his, he reciprocates with more confidence.

“Take your time and ease back into it.”, you whisper. 

You continue to grind against him as you murmur soft words in his ear and his hands roam your back. Gripping the bottom of your dress, he lifts it up your body and groans as his eyes hungrily take you in. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” Smirking, you slide off him, your eyes never leaving his as you remove your panties and toss them at his chest. “Leave your shoes on and crawl to Daddy, baby.”

Your pussy clenches at his words, his confidence in the title starting to return. Sinking to your knees, you do as he says making him groan as he unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants to his ankles allowing his cock to spring free. 

As he spits into his hand and strokes himself, you pause. 

“Jesus. You’re so fucking big.”

“Hey.”, Eddie growls causing your head to snap at attention. “Watch your mouth.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ve just…” You continue to crawl forward till your hands balance on his knees. “…never had a dick as big as yours inside me. I-I don’t know if it will fit.”

“Shit. It’ll fit, pretty girl. We’ll make it fit. You just have to get it nice and wet.”

After nodding in agreement, he hisses as your hand wraps around him and the tip of your tongue darts out to lick the little beads of precum that had begun to leak out.

“Goddamn it, Y/N.”

Opening your mouth wide, you test the waters and bob your head taking half of him as you allow your tongue to swirl around his head along his slit. 

“T-That’s it, baby.”, Eddie pants as he pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail to get a better look at you’re doing. “Good girl. Your mouth feels so…so good. Try and take more, sweetheart.”

You do as he asks and promptly gag as your throat constricts around him. 

“Fuck! That’s it. Take it, baby. Choke on Daddy’s cock. Let m-me help.” Holding you tightly, you allow him to use you as he thrusts his hips and his dick hits the back of your throat. “There we go. Mouth open, flat tongue. So fucking beautiful taking my dick like this.”

Tears spill, smearing your make up as he lets you go and you take in big gulps of air. Grasping your cheeks, he kisses your lips as his thumbs wipe away the stains under your eyes. 

“Such a good girl… so good for me. I should have asked but do you have a safe word? Is Red still a good one?”

Eddie smiles as you breathily laugh and give him a peck before climbing up his lap to straddle him again. 

“Red is still good.”

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

After doing what he says, your whole body melts into his slightly sweaty chest as his arms wrap around you. Gripping the base of his shaft, you shutter as he slides his cock between your folds, teasing your clit with his tip. 

“You’re so wet, little girl, fuck. Are you ready for Daddy, baby?”

“Yes. Please.” Lifting your hips to help guide him, the boxer begins to gradually push himself inside of you. “Oh…f-fuck…”

“Are you ok?”, he whispers in your ear as you fully fall back against him. 

“Yeah, yeah. It…feels so good…so big. Mmnah!”, you whine as he slowly thrusts in another inch stretching you open. 

“You’re doing so good for me, Y/N. Take your time.  We have all night, honey.” 

Your half lidded eyes watch as he runs his tongue along his fingers before bringing them down to massage circles against your clit, feeling your pussy flutter and allowing him more leeway as you both groan feeling your lap finally connect with his. 

“You’re—mmph—so fucking tight.”

Experimentally, you roll your hips and the moan that leaves his lips has your eyes rolling as you do it again. You know his fingers gripping your love handles will leave bruises as he starts to guide you but you don’t care as you suck hickies into his neck, smiling at the vibration as he groans. 

“Bounce, pretty girl. Fuck me hard.”

Balancing your hands on his knees, your head lulls forward as you bounce on top of him, mewling repetitive ahs as he slams into that sensitive spot inside you. His palm comes down hard on your ass as he continues to knead his fingers into the plump flesh. 

“God, I can’t get over how fucking sexy you are. Cum for Daddy, sweetheart. Make—fuck—make yourself cum on my cock.”

Falling back against him, his wide lust filled eyes watch as one of your arms comes around to cling to the back of his neck as your other brings your hand to massage your breast. Eddie had never met a woman like you before and was pretty sure he would never meet again. 

Even with his ex, she used to be pretty open minded but never seemed to carry the kind of confidence you did. He knew when he saw you from the ring that you were different but he had promised himself he would focus on his career for the time being before jumping into anything new relationship wise. 

But how could he let you walk out that door tomorrow morning and let you go?

Your body trembled against him and he grunted as your cunt gripped his cock as you came. You rode out your high and the feeling made him almost feral as he picked you up to move you both the floor.

With his hand firmly holding the back of your neck smushing your cheek into the floor, Eddie thrust into you with rough abandon as you fell apart beneath him. 

“Oh my Goooooood. So fucking deep.”

Twisting his hand to curl his fingers in your hair, he yanked you closer to his chest and slowed his pace but not his intensity as his skin slapped obscenely into yours.

“Does my dick feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yeeeeesss—mmmah!”

“Tell me. Tell Daddy how much this tight little pussy loves my cock.”

“Y-Your cock feels so good, Daddy. My pussy was made for you.” As you spoke, his forehead rested against your cheek as his eyes shut and he found his rhythm again. “I want to feel you cum inside me, baby please.”

His eyes snapped open as he scanned your face realizing immediately you were telling the truth. 

“Don’t—Don’t say shit like that, little girl, unless you mean it.”

“P-P-Please, Daddy. I promise I’m safe. I need you to fill me up. I need to feel how good my pussy made you feel.”

“Goddamn it.”, Eddie grunted, pulling out and aggressively flipping you over onto your back before guiding himself back inside you. 

Your legs promptly wrapped around his waist and he pounded into you knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“Just like that, Daddy. I’m—fuck—M’gonna cum again. Cum with me.”

Balancing on his palms, his chocolate irises took in all of your beautiful features as they contorted in pleasure. It had been so long since he made a woman feel this good and he desperately wanted to please you. Your palms massaged along his slightly sore arms and his chest, gliding effortlessly over his bruises that were beginning to form from his fight earlier that night. 

None of that mattered. 

Every ache and pain he carried from the ring, disappeared as soon as you touched him and all he could focus on was the warmth that was you. 

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want.”

Circling your arms around him, you pulled him against your body, needing to absorb him as he rolled his hips, grunting in your ear till you felt his release warm you deeper than any man you had before. The whine Eddie made as his fingers clung to your hair was enough to have the coil snap for the final time that night as your pussy tried to milk everything he had to give. 

You both laid there together silently intertwined for a good long while as you tried to catch your breaths. 

“Are you ok?”, you whisper.

Pushing up onto his elbows, his hand moves some stray hairs away from your sweaty face as he softly smiles down at you. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m good. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, a little sore.”, you answer as your eyes gesture between your bodies. 

“Shit, ok, um, I’ll go slow. Ready?” When you nodded, as gently as he could, he pulled out of your aching cunt, cooing praise at you as you winced. “Good. Good girl. We, um, I don’t have a shower in here but there are locker rooms with showers if you want or we can stay here of course.”

“I’d like to shower, please.”

The way you said please told him you were still coming down from that headspace causing your words to echo in his brain about how lonely it can be being stuck there and not being taken care of properly. 

Rising to his feet, he hastily helped you to yours before taking you in his arms and caring you to the locker room. 

“Thank you. I’m not too heavy?”

“Not at all, princess.”

You watch his face as he turns on the water and makes cute little faces as the cold water hits his hand first before steaming up the area. As he cleaned your skin, his tongue poked out the side of his mouth making a little giggle fall from yours. 

“What are you laughing at?”

“You.”, you smile. “You’re just really adorable.”

“Thank you? I think.”, he grins as he comes up to kiss your forehead.

After you’re both clean and back in his room, he pulls out the couch to turn it into a bed and places you on it before you notice him pause. 

“I, um, I just assumed you’d be falling asleep here. I’m sorry. Did…did you need to get home?”

“Um…” You meant what you said when it came to relationships. You weren’t ready to jump into a new one and when you let him bring you home you told yourself this was just going to be a onetime thing but you couldn’t deny there was something about this man that made you feel safe. Maybe you could just take things slow and see where it led. “No, I can stay.”

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned down to kiss your lips. Throwing one his shirts over your frame, you laughed as he pulled on his boxers and obnoxiously jumped into bed.

With your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you, the two of you talked till the sun slowly began to rise outside his window. 

##################

“I thought you were dead!”, Paige shouted as she lightly pushed your arm before getting up to hug you when she saw you walk into the restaurant you two were supposed to be meeting at. “You didn’t text me or anything and when I woke up you weren’t home.”

“I know! I’m so sorry. I got caught up with someone…”, you grin as your eyes bashfully meet hers.

“Oh, tell me everything.”

The two of you giggle as you regale her with the story of the previous night’s events as you swoon over the older boxer you met. 

“Ugh, well I’m glad something good came from boxing.”, she sassed, sticking out her tongue for emphasis. 

“Good lord, what is it with you and boxing? Were you once a fighter who lost her dream when another fighter broke your neck?”

“No, you movie nerd.”, she laughs. “My dad’s a boxer. I mean I guess you can call him that. He’s a mechanic but decided randomly to start training to fight.”

“Your dad the deadbeat?”

“Yeah. He went training 24/7 and it killed my mother. They stopped spending time together and when they were together they fought constantly. One day a few months ago, he was just gone and next thing I know they are getting a divorce.”

“I’m so sorry, Paige. I know how hard divorce is on a family.”

“He’s supposed to meet me today to get some more of his things. He doesn’t have a place right now and begged my mom to hold his stuff till he found something. I guess he’s won a good amount of matches because he told her the other day he’d saved enough money to finally move. My mom refuses to see him so I’m the messenger I guess.”

“Do you want me to lag behind so I can be your reason to leave? ‘Oh here’s my roommate. We have to go.’”, you joke.

“My saint. Would you please? Op, speak of the goddamn devil.”, she sighs as she flashes you her phone screen. “I’ll meet you outside.”

As she walks outside, you hurry to pay so she’s not alone for too long. Paige was a wonderful roommate and an even better friend. When you met her, you had just had your breakup and nowhere to go. She was sympathetic to your plight and helped you at your absolutely lowest. She got you get back on your feet and now after meeting Eddie, maybe things were finally on the right track again. 

“You don’t have to do this, sweetheart. I can drive down there and get my things myself. She shouldn’t be asking you to be the ‘middleman’. This is between me and your mother.”

“I don’t mind doing it after what you did to her. Imagine how she’d feel if you showed up covered in hickeys. Hide that shit better.”, Paige shouted as she slammed her trunk closed and her father lifted the collar of his jacket. “Whatever doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters to you now is yourself and your dreams, you fucking asshole.”

“Paige, please. Can we just talk so I can explain some things—”

“No, we can’t. My roommates here and we need to go home. Right, Y/N?”, she growls as she turns to face you. 

Your eyes widen as you come face to face with Paige’s “deadbeat” father. Eddie seems equally as surprised as his jaw falls open. 

“Th-This is the girl you moved in with?”, he whispered.

“What do you care? She’s my friend and mom loves her. Come on, Y/N.”

As your roommate, grips your arm and pulls you to her car, you struggle to take your eyes off the older man as his own irises sullenly follow.

Of course. How could I be so stupid to think things would get better? I should have refused the blind like I wanted to. If I had this would never have happened. I’m a fucking idiot. 

As Eddie watches his daughter speed away with the angel he met last night, he pulled the piece of paper you left by his nightstand with your phone number and a note saying you needed to meet your roommate for lunch but you would talk to him later. 

His heart fell into his stomach as the notion ran through his head that you may never want to speak with him again. 

################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @micheledawn1975 @hardladyheart @chelebelletx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paleidiot

[astrow0rldx]

pac 18+ their sexual desires for you

one

"In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day. Fuckin' and fightin' on It's our paradise and it's our war zone It's our paradise and it's our war zone". could be in a relationship already, or they desire to court you, take you on a date, outside walking, living together, cutesy romantic things. someone could have hurt someone, now they want to fight you back sexually. or just hurt you in the bedroom, mentally and physically. they could desire you to be this siren coquette person, where your mysterious and don't show to much affection or care for them. play mind games on them. which may be your reaction to getting hurt, or what's hurting them. but at the end of the day they want to feel tied to you, committed to you and your where home is. a lot of people have that taste in relationships, where they don't want all of them unconsciously, but they want them to be theirs. but this fight in the bedroom, is going to be chaotic, and may want to use handcuffs, ropes, etc. even risky sex where it's so much fire passion you have a baby, now you are trapped. they could want to keep this relationship professional, or surface level in a sense, take it as it resonates. they want to fuck and argue like married couples though, but them being the one you come to too fuck on a bad day and you come to them about all your problems. any type of psychological problems you have, they want to fuck it out of you, they want to see it come out while your fucking, they want to fuck you in the state of being so hurt and broken you don't even want to fuck. but whats coming through strongly is the surface level, mysteriousness, detachment, & professionalism of the connection, the conflict and heartbreak of it, and realizations that is prominent in their sexual desires.

two

they could be dreaming about you, delusional, fantasizing. trying to control and tame themself because you are so fucking sexy. they could be thinking about undressing you and exploring your body. they could desire foreplay, going out to eat, or making food for you. kissing, making out, hugging, on top, bodies together then he gets to slowly undress you. you could be kind of perfect to them, or like they met their match. because they have a lot of ideas, and imaginary energy when it comes to you. in an animalistic, passionate way. they desire to uncover your mystery, see your wild side. exchange kinks. see how you would look with their dick in you mouth. see what it would be like if y'all started a competitive, bratty game and fucked till both of you guys was timed out, but the sex be so playful, expressing, fun, and bright. they want to balance their emotional side with their sexual side. after care, dates, making food for you, helping you with your clothes. even making family stuff, mom/dad/kid involved. them being the daddy. my advice, that outside of the question, make them wait lol. be more teasing till the finish line.

three

im getting a vibe of we about to get some shit straight type of sex. you don't know what i'm going to do to you when i see you. maybe for some they are proving their loyalty and how much they are standing on business for you. when you get inside the bed they are going to be persistent, long lasting, stamina. very excited to see you, celebratory sex. the adrenaline of like sneaky link type of sex "this shit feel like teenage fever". "who came to make sweet love..not me. when we... fuck". they say but they desire to transform something with this sex, maybe they desire to come back into contact with you and kind of hesitant, but they desire you. for most of you they kind of want to be in and out of your life, coming and going when they please and you still being (one) of their girls. but they want both parties to be chill on their own in their own life. but for some it is an energy of being no contact, or at a distance. maybe needing some type of travel, or time and building to get to a certain place. and they kind of desire the ability to be at peace with you. they could desire helping you in a certain way, financially, sexually, or just with love when your feeling a lack of it and be each other peace of mind/sex. bring peace and material abundance so you can be good on your own feeling satisfied.

[ihavethedreamies]

Good Enough | Jisung [NSFW]

Park Jisung - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~6.1k [more than half is smut btw]

Pairing: Jisung x AFAB!Older!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Friends/Roommates-to-Lovers, Absolute Filth

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Summary: Jisung is tired of his noona treating him like her little sweet baby.

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Noona, Sweetheart), Swearing, Very Dirty Talk, Kissing, Lots of Tongue, One Spank, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Rimming (Just a tad), Size Difference, Size Kink, Soft-Dom! Jisung (oof), Sub! Reader, Breeding/Creampie Kink, Overstimulation, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! Reader is on the pill)

Author's Note: I had a mental breakdown while writing this lol. This might not acutally be the filthiest thing I have written, but it feels like it because of who it's for…for some reason. It's hard for me to believe that Jisung got so fucking hot, because I remember him sitting on Taeyong's lap, but he's a MAN now. i'll sit on his lap

P.S. FUCK

Revised (1/31/25) - I forgot to change the name to (Y/N), so I fixed it!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

“He’s my precious.”

“Your roommate…is your precious?” Jisung hears voices creeping in from the living room. Groggily, he glances at the clock on his nightstand, head peeking out of his blanket cocoon. He’s still jet lagged after getting back from Korea, so it’s about 3 pm.

“Yes. And he’s not just my roommate-“

“He’s your precious?”

“Yes. But! I was going to say he’s my best friend… and my precious baby boy.

“Seriously? Isn’t he only like two or three years younger?”

“My precious baby Jisung.” He huffs at your coo, dropping his head back on his pillow in annoyance. For some reason his summer trip back home to see his parents triggered something in him. He missed you horribly and you were pretty much the only thing he talked about. Once he was informed by his mother that he’s likely fallen in love with you, he’s…upset. More with himself at first for not realizing it, but then looking at how you two interact, he got cranky. He is not your precious baby Jisung, he’s a man dammit, has been for nearly four years. Do you see him that way though? Not even remotely. He’s a step above a puppy, at least you accept he’s human. But you constantly go on about how cute he is, and sweet, and ‘a bean’; whatever that means. You’d even called him your son on a few occasions, and ever though they’re mostly in jest and unserious, now they really piss him off. Jisung doesn’t want you to see him as your son (maybe give you one) but what really is bugging him barely makes sense. He’s only heard you say it once, but it sticks in his mind…

“You realize half of the people on campus want to fuck him, right?”

He’s in his final year of college, and the only reason you’re still in college is because you stuck around to work for the IT department. Your friend’s question is not news to him, but he’s much too shy to go for any of the advances he’s received. He’s also much too in love with you, but he hadn’t known that till literally last month, but it makes sense.

“Not allowed.”

“Why?”

“Precious baby.”

“He’s not a baby, (Y/N). Not even close.” You don’t reply for a bit, and he can vividly picture your distasteful expression.

“He might not actually be one, but he’s my baby. My baby Jisung.”

“(Y/N).”

Your friend’s annoyed tone is not nearly strong enough to match the level he’s feeling. Definitely not able to continue his nap, he sits up aggressively from his bed, kicking at his blankets before wrangling his comforter and throwing it to the floor. Resting his elbow on his knee, he then rests his forehead on his hand, trying to breathe out his ire so he can leave his room without being visibly grumpy.

“My sister wants to ask him out.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“No one is good enough.”

“No one?”

“Nope, not even me.”

That’s it. You said it. That simple thought is what really sets him over the edge. You’re the only one good enough, no one else can even be close to you in his eyes. Finally, the anger boils over and he climbs off his bed, putting a sweatshirt on so quickly that he has to wrestle it in his haste. You keep the apartment so freaking cold… You must hear him wrench his door open because your conversation immediately stops. He storms down the hall, even his socked feet are heavy on the laminate wood floor, so much so that when he comes to the mouth of the hallway, you’re looking at him with a shocked expression. You’re sitting at the coffee table with your friend Yuna, various papers spread on the surface while your friend studies for her graduate classes. Your green snake Squishmallow sits on your lap, and he wants to grab it and throw it across the room, suddenly jealous with how close it’s pressed to your chest.

“Ji?” It’s clear you don’t think he heard your conversation, but Yuna immediately realizes, starting to gather her homework.

“I’m gonna go.” She nearly shoves the papers into her folder and throws everything else in her bag.

“What? Why?” You turn back to her, and he then realizes what you’re wearing. Your slightly damp hair has moved out of the way, revealing the design on the back of your baggy t-shirt. It’s his.

“Wait, Yuna?!” You try to get up and go after her as she dashes from your apartment, shooting Jisung a look as she shuts the door. You have to shove the table to get up quicker, and even as you stand, you still clutch the plushie to you. Jisung exhales harshly, storming forward and grabbing your Squishmallow and yeeting her onto the floor.

“Woah?! What’d she do to you?” You motion to her with your hand, giving him a questioning look. You start to bend to pick her up, but his hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back up and toward him, making your balance falter. Your bewildered eyes scan over his face, but you still have no anger in them; not even annoyance. You can’t get mad at your baby boy.

“Ji?” His big hand easily holds your wrist, and you squeak when he drags you even closer to him, so much that you can feel his breath flutter your hair over your forehead. His brow is furrowed, lips pressed tight to each other, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” Your other hand comes up to brush some of your hair away from your face, only leaving it down so it can dry. Your fingers then move to his face, trying to brush his bangs out of his eyes. Having you so close and seeing how far you have to reach makes him realize just how small you are. He’s well over half a foot taller than you and he wonders how small you’d look under him… When your fingers brush his cheek, his other hand grabs yours, easily swallowing it in his grip. Jisung holds your hand, pulling closer, and lays your linked hands over his heart. With his other, he yanks you the last little bit closer, so you’re pressed to him, wide eyes rapidly scanning his face. Your head’s tilted back, almost painfully so, still not recognizing what’s happening. The hand around your wrist moves so his thumb can rub your skin till it presses against your palm. Your gaze goes to your hand then, shocked at how small it is compared to his, and you seem to be registering how small you are compared to him in general. Had he really grown so much since you’d met him four years before? Your gaze goes back to his face, finally seeming to notice that his face has changed as well. Yes, he’s still cute, but he’s become devastatingly handsome, maturing into a…man. No, he isn’t a baby anymore, but you’re in denial. Even now, pressed against him, even able to feel his toned muscles through his sweatshirt, you keep trying to convince yourself he's still your baby Jisung.

“Jisung?” You exhale his name, so quiet that if he wasn’t so close, he wouldn’t have heard. Your eyes follow his when they flick down to watch your lips move when you whisper his name.

“What makes you think you’re not good enough for me?” His voice rumbles through you, its deepness shocking you for some reason. When did that happen? You’re so thrown off by the pitch of his voice, you barely register his question.

“Huh?”

“No one else is good enough for me…because they’re not you.” His hand drops your wrist so his arm can wrap around you, and he presses his cheek to the side of your head. He nuzzles your soft hair, the familiar scent of your shampoo soothing his anger some.

“What?” You stand still, stiff even, trying to process what’s happening.

“I don’t want to be your baby Jisung anymore, noona. I just want to be yours.” He’s a bit surprised with his sudden eloquence, but he just chocks it up to all his upset burning away any shyness he as in the moment. The anger’s faded, and he’s just upset, tired again, praying in his head that you’ll get the fucking hint. Your hand, the one he lets go, has rested on his chest for balance, then he feels your fingers clutch the fabric of his sweatshirt. With his fingers wrapped around your right hand still, he can feel that your pulse has quickened, and you’re minutely shaking.

“Y-you…?” You swallow hard, tongue running over your lips, mouth feeling dry.

“I thought I just had a crush on you. I don’t. I love you.” His softened voice floats right into your ear with how his head rests on yours. The back of your nose and throat burn as you swallow hard, tears sparking in the corners of your eyes. When you hiccup, snigging, he flinches, pulling back from you. It’s only just enough that he can see your face, his arm still around you, hand still in his over his heart.

“Noona.” He sighs softly, dipping and kissing the corner of your eye where a tear has slipped down your cheek. Nope, that makes it worse. You burst into tears, chest heaving, and he pulls you back into him. You’re…dramatic sometimes, cry easily…too easily, even. Jisung loves to tease you for crying at a commercial where a little girl brings a quilt out to her sheep in the barn close to Christmas. You also tend to cry around puppies.

“I-I…I-!” Your breath is heaving too much for you to really talk. His nose nuzzles your hair, and he kisses the crown of your head. You sniff, taking a few deep breaths.

“I love you too…” You whisper, if you were to speak any loud, your sobs would take back over. He doesn’t know, but while he was gone you had been in a much similar situation. You went to visit your parents as well, but it’s just an hour or so drive, not practically across the world. You missed him so much, and wouldn’t shut up about him, but your mother knows you well enough to read between the lines. Because it startled you, having romantic feelings for Jisung, you became even more dramatic with the ‘baby Jisung’ talk. He is your best friend, and so of course you love him, but you can’t admit you’re in love with him. You’re so worried about ruining your friendship that you just ignore your logical thoughts and pretend you haven’t fallen for him. Nearly fighting him when he pulls back from the hug again, you stay pressed to him, not wanting him to see your face. Not only is it red from your blush, but it’s also blotchy from your crying and your nose is close to running.

“Noona.” He huffs a laugh, trying to get you off of him. You grip his sweatshirt tighter.

“(Y/N).” Jisung is fully laughing at that point, partially from your actions and partially from how ecstatic he is that you love him back.

“No.”

“Noona.”

“No.” Finally, with a bit more force, he pulls back so you can see each other’s faces. The warmest smile you’ve ever seen is on his face and you freeze when he leans in closer. His forehead bumps your and his nose crinkles, cringing a bit at his own actions, but it makes you giggle; which makes it all worth it.

“Since when?” you ask. He laughs bashfully, lips pursing.

“I didn’t realize how bad it is till a few weeks ago when I was still in Korea. But…I knew before that. Something made me realize…”

“What?” You’re shocked when his giddy but shy face falls into one of panic.

“W-what?” His face blooms red, all the way to the tips of his ears and he tries to bow his head to avoid your gaze, but you can just look up into his eyes.

“Uh, well…” He clears his throat, trying to pull back further but he doesn’t let your hand go.

“Jisung?” You press with a fake stern tone.

“I…had a dream.” He fakes a cough to try and hide his voice crack.

“Yeah?” You’re clearly not understanding that he’s so reluctant to say what it was, because it was filthy. It even had made Jaemin blush. The extreme embarrassment in his eyes when they finally meet yours clues you in better. You step closer, a coy look spreading over your own face, and he takes a step back. His hand is still holding yours though, so he isn’t that desperate to get away. He clenches his other hand into a fist, bringing it up and pressing his mouth to his forearm to hide his face.

“Was it something bad?”

“No! Uh…” With each step you try to get closer, he backs up, till his back hits the wall.

“Was it naughty?” You tease, and he sneers at the cringey word. Your eyes, still a bit puffy from crying, are creased with amusement.

“Uh, I mean…”

“Did we do something dirty?” Your head tilts up to look at his face as he tries to hide, fingers clenching yours jerkily, the digits desperate to wiggle.

“M-maybe.”

“What?” You smirk, trying not to giggle. You’re always more open about sex stuff, not quite like Jaemin or even Donghyuck, but still more than him.

“No.” He’s throwing your method of deflection back at you.

“You know,” you get up on your tip toes so you can whisper into his ear, “if you tell me, we can do it~?” Your suggestion makes his whole body freeze, blood turning to ice. He nearly gasps when his blood then rapidly heats, the sound of his pulse whooshing in his ears.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, needing to make sure because even just the slightest detail would reveal too much if you aren’t. You nod with a hum, then gasp when he switches your places, hand cupping the back of your head, so it doesn’t thud into the wall as he pins you to it, his other forearm holding him up over you’re your head. You can only blink in response, looking at the conflicted expression on his face.

"I don’t want to hurt you.” What the hell had he dreamt? You’re dying to know…

“You won’t.” Jisung’s eyes meet yours, brow furrowed in worry.

“I could.”

“You could, but you won’t. Plus…” Your hands come up to mess with the strings of his hoodie.

"Sometimes a little pain can feel good." Jisung searches your face and sees the determination in your eyes. The hand on the back of your head buries harshly into your hair, tugging at your scalp as you gasp when his mouth seals against yours. Your teeth clack against his with the force of the kiss and you whine, trying to match his fervor. You can’t. His leg nestles between yours, pressing close and against your core, and you have to rise up onto your tip toes. The fingers in your hair twist the strands around them and he tugs harder, tipping your head back more, compensating for him looming over you. His knee hits the wall, his leg literally hitching you up an inch and you moan at the pressure. Jisung sneaks his tongue into your mouth then and your breath is rough out of your nose, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth. Panting hard, he pulls back, eyes searching yours. His arm against the wall moves down to your side, still holding him up but also pressing into your waist. The hand in your hair leaves, the tips of his fingers soothing the slight sting he left on your scalp, then cups your jaw. Your face looks so small cupped in his palm and something carnal -feral- rises in him.

“You’re so little, noona.” Jisung’s tone is nothing like you’d even heard from him. His hooded gaze focuses on your mouth when his thumb easily reaches to press against your lips, his fingers still stroking the back of your head. You watch his brow quick up when you take his thumb between your lips, sucking on it. You expect a blush to erupt, for his voice to sputter, or for him to pull back. No. He smirks.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?” Your head has to tilt up once again when he presses even closer, chest to chest, leg still wedged between yours. You wonder if you’d soaked through your panties and thin shorts, and if he could feel it. Then again, he’s in sweatpants, but you can feel the fabric clinging to your folds and he’s only kissed you. Yes, his thigh is pressing against your covered cunt, be he isn’t moving you on it.

“Tell me?” you whisper when he removes his thumb, eyes focusing on the shine of drool left on it. If you didn’t know him better, you would take his intense expression for anger, but even with knowing him so well, you can’t read his face. Jisung slips his hand off your jaw, fingers pressing to the back of your neck, thumb resting under your chin. His face comes close once more, so close his lips brush slightly over yours as he speaks.

“I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk for the next three days. I want to fuck you so stupid you can’t even speak, just whine, and beg for more. I want to make you cum so much that your cute little pussy stings. I want you to swallow my cock and I want to cum down your throat.” You’re going to pass out, you’re sure of it. With how quickly the blood rushes to your core, your head swims. Where’s your sweet little Jisung gone? How long has he been thinking like that? He can’t even meet anyone’s eyes if sex stuff gets brought up around friends. But his words are thick with lust, and they swim into your ears and fog your brain like a drug. Your thighs twitch, body shuddering when a devilish grin spreads over his gorgeous face. He isn’t cute right now; he’s destructively sexy, and it takes your breath away. You don’t think you can ever see him as your sweet little friend again…

“What do you want, noona?” The pet-name even comes out different, he says it with near reverence, the single word a one-eighty from the four words preceding it.

“I want… I need you to do anything you want to me.” His grin falls, he groans, and his tongue is back in your mouth. He can taste the candy you’d been eating while you spoke those fateful words, eagerly circling your tongue with his. You keen a whining moan when the hand at your neck tightens slightly, his thumb pressing into your windpipe. Your breath hitches, somehow where he grips it gives the same heady feeling without actually restricting your breathing. What steals your air is the pleasure you’re feeling just from his kiss. Your hips jump, desperate for some friction, grinding your covered pussy against his thigh. Helpfully he presses into you more, lifting you against the wall more, the weight of gravity pulling you onto him harder. The arm at your side that’s been holding him up moves -he's just using his knee now for balance- and his fingers tease along the waistband of your shorts. You whimper when his hand continues, sneaking its way into the back of your shorts and panties, the hot pads of his fingers meeting your slick folds. You shiver and take heaving breaths when he removes himself from the kiss. His other hand’s still at your throat, but he releases the light pressure, making your heavy breaths easier to control.

“You’re soaked, noona. For me?”

“Fuck, yes, Jisung.” Expecting a kiss when he moves closer once more, he grips your jaw, tilting your head back, thumb hooking your bottom lip. You let him move your jaw, holding your mouth open, waiting for his next move. His grin breaks when he lets a glob of spit fall from his lip and into your awaiting mouth. Without needing a prompt, when his thumb leaves your mouth, you swallow.

“Good girl, noona.” Slowly, he pulls away from you and the wall, stepping back only enough that he can take his hoodie off. He goes ahead and lets his shirt underneath go along with it and your heart leaps.

“Fucking hell.” You gasp, reaching forward to eagerly run your fingers over him. While he isn’t necessarily to the level of Jeno or even Jaemin, for having a dancer’s body he still has muscle. When had that gotten there? He barely wears anything tight, let alone without sleeves, so you had no idea. He feels a wave of bashfulness rising, so he takes control once again, pulling your small hands from his skin.

“Off.” He prompts and you grab the hem of his shirt you’re wearing, and he finishes the job, tossing it down the hall. Clicking his tongue at your bra, you start to reach around your back to undo it, but he beats you to it. With an easy flick, it snaps open, and you let it drop, wide eyes staring at him. Where the fucking hell had he learned to do that?

“Jaemin.” He must’ve read your mind and that makes plenty of sense. Not able to even process your next move, he scoops you up easily, pressing you back into the wall. You squeak, wrapping your mostly bare legs around his waist, fingers digging into his shoulders. He’s more or less eye-level with you now. He drops you a bit, preferring you under him more, and his nose nuzzles under your ear. He feels the goose bumps rising on your skin against his, his top just as bare as yours. His hands once again bury under the waist band of your shorts, fingers so long that the tips slip out of the leg holes of your panties, cupping your ass perfectly.

“God, Jisung~!” Your body twitches when his light nuzzles immediately turn into open mouth kisses, then he sucks hard, working the skin with his lips and teeth. Popping off of your neck, his tongue runs over the flesh, blood rising and pooling at the surface. The fingers on his shoulder tighten, the blunt edges of your nails digging into his skin, and his own hips jump then. You’ve been trying to ignore the tent in his pants, but he grinds his hardened cock against your cunt, only a few layers of fabric between. Jisung seems to be big in every way…

“You still on the pill?”

“Yes, why?” You shudder once more as he licks at the third hickey he’s left, this one on your collarbone.

“I need to fuck you raw.” He groans as your cunt throbs, easily feeling it against his cock even with the clothing barrier.

“Want to pump you so full, my cums dripping out of you for hours.” Your eyes roll back as you whine, throwing your head back. You squeak when he jostles you up higher, those beautiful and surprisingly sinful lips sucking in a nipple. Sighing at the feeling, he isn’t pleased with the gentle noise, and so he nibbles your peak instead. You yipe like a dog -ironic since he’s planning on fucking you like one- a little dazed by how high up the wall he has you. Despite the altitude, he seems to be easily holding you up, though he’s able to use the wall for help. When his mouth moves to your other breast, he smirks at the red and swollen nipple he leaves. Your body feels like it’s on fire and you both still have your pants on.

“Can I fuck you raw, noona? Feel your pussy cling to my cock?” His mouth is at your ear again, having dropped you back down to an easier level. His dick hasn’t even entered you and you feel too stupid to talk.

“Please~” You mewl, and your submissive tone makes him groan. Jisung’s hands leave your shorts, shoving them down off of you as he partially lets you go. Your feet dangle slightly as you toe off the last of your clothes, then you yelp as he slings you over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

“J-Jisung-?!” You yelp as his hand smacks your ass, most likely leaving a big red print on your skin. The sting of the spank sends tendrils of fire right to your cunt as he storms down the hall toward your room, your bed is bigger than his. You flinch at the slam of your door as he closes it, huffing as he practically drops you.

“Knees.” He prompts -orders- and your body easily obeys. Going down the rest of the way to the floor, you sit with your knees in an ‘M’, gazing up at him with big glossy eyes. You’re trying hard not to gape at the bulge in his sweatpants, or to run your gaze hungrily over his bare torso.

“Go ahead, noona.” He nearly laughs at your eagerness, quickly reaching for the waistband of his pants and pull them off, his hard cock bobbing in the air before you. Your wide, enraptured state on his dick gives him a rush of nerves and pride all at once. While you come to terms with your fate, he shoves his sweatpants to the side, and you shuffle forward. Whimpering, your hand wraps around the base of his cock, big and pretty like him. Swallowing, your eyes meet his.

“C-Can I get something?” Your request throws him off, but he nods, and you scramble up and to your nightstand. Trotting back over, you stand demurely before him, holding the item out with both palms up. He takes the little bottle from you, looking at it.

“Throat numbing spray?” His brow crooks and he looks at you, biting your lip with a giddy glaze over your eyes. It still has plastic wrap on the nozzle. Nodding once, you sink back to your knees, and he groans low when you open your mouth wide, tongue out.

“Why do you have this, noona?” His tone is slightly patronizing as he tears the plastic off, then spritzes the watermelon flavored spray into your mouth. Swallowing a few times, the dull sensation you could even register before fades, leaving a very minute feeling in your throat.

“Guess.” You giggle, hand wrapping back around his cock. Jisung buries his hand in your hair again, tugging hard to make you look back up at him.

“You’ve used it before?”

“I’m not a virgin, Ji.” Your normal, casual tone doesn’t sit right with him in the moment, and he twists your hair again, the stinging twinge makes you moan softly.

“One for me now?”

“Yes~” You nod to further emphasize your point, and his grip loosens. With a much softer hold on your head, he presses you closer, letting you take over. Swallowing a buildup of saliva, your tongue swirls around the head of his dick, eagerly lapping at the salty taste of his precum. He’s barely half-way in your mouth when the head hits your numbed throat, your jaw protesting some already. His eyes shut as he groans, only fluttering open to watch you take his cock even deeper down your throat. The spray helps you not to gag, and you swallow over and over, holding your breath, your nose pressing to his groin. Your hand falls, landing next to your other one as you press your hands to the floor. Pulling back enough that you can breathe, you twist your head like a curious dog, eyes searing into his.

“Ready?” You moan and his hands are back in your hair, hips jumping, burying his cock back inside your throat. Despite the numbing, tears spring to your eyes, a slight gag leaving you. Holding still like a good girl, Jisung pumps his fat cock into your mouth and down your throat, breathing harshly through your nose when you can.

“Fuck, you feel so good, noona~” He sighs, head thrown back, making sure not to use full force as he rolls his hips. Even with him holding back, you can feel the strength of his movements and you feel a puddle of wet forming on the laminate floor under you, cunt clenching around nothing.

“You better swallow it all, (Y/N).” He tries not to whimper, but he can’t help it, letting you inhale deeply before burying his cock all the way down your gullet, pumping thick strands of hot cum down your throat. Your core spasms, eyes fluttering as you eagerly swallow over and over, the heat of his release warming through you. When you woke up this morning, you never dreamed you’d be eagerly swallowing Jisung’s cock as he cums buckets down your throat. As the last little wave dies, he quickly removes his still half-hard cock, brow furrowing with worry as you gasp for air. Tears are flowing down your cheeks, face red and messy, but you open up, tongue out, to show him you obediently swallowed every drop.

“You’re so fucking good, sweetheart.” You gasp softly, the pet-name going straight to your needy cunt. Jisung uses his index finger to gather the saliva and pre that dripped down your chin, letting you lick it off.

“Get on the bed, it’s my turn.” As soon as his fingers retracts, you stand quickly, albeit shakily and go to stand by the bed.

“W-which way?” His hands on your shoulders turn you to face the bed, back to him. With a shove, you fall onto the mattress, chest pressing to the surface, hips bumping the end of the bed. You then hear a light thumb, and his hands are back on your ass-

“Fuck!” You gasp as his thumbs spread your soaking folds, blowing a stream of air against your fluttering core.

“Did you cum when I did, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl~” You can hear his smirk, then you cry out as you bury your hands into the sheets, his tongue burrowing into your hot cunt. Jisung easily holds your hips still, his arm wrapping around the front of your legs, his free hand splayed over the small of your back. When his tongue leaves your pussy, it swirls over your clit, and he sucks it in once before running through the slit of your folds and wiggling back inside. He does this a few more times, eagerly drinking your slick.

"Fuckfuckfuck-" You shudder, not even able to warn him as you next orgasm hits, much stronger than the small one you had not even five minutes prior. He holds you down as your body shakes, gummy walls fluttering and throbbing around his tongue.

“You taste so good, noona.” You barely hear him lick his lips, pulse still whooshing in your ears.

“A-ah?!” You squeal when his hands part your ass cheeks, his tongue moving up from your soaking cunt and swirling over your pucker.

“J-Jisung!?” You gasp harder, not sure hot to feel about the sensation. Grateful you took a shower not even two hours ago, you still aren’t really expecting his tongue to go from your pussy to your ass.

“Don’t worry, noona, I just wanna taste today.” He laps over your pucker once more, then pulls back, huffing in amusement at your still twitching thighs. You’re already tired, he can tell, but he’s painfully hard again. Jisung’s thoughts run rampant as he tries to decide how he wants you as he fucks you first. Your pose will do just fine…

“Hm, so wet, sweetheart.” He stands so he can lean over you on the bed, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other hand leading his cock to run through your folds. You know it was big in your mouth, but feeling him at your entrance makes you shiver. As the head of his cock starts to breach your walls, the burning sting makes you sigh in delight, the heat of his skin scorching through you. Breathing hard, trying to relax, your cunt flutters still as he buries deeper, slowly. His deep, low groan fades into a chuckle as he watches your pussy suck in his cock. At the last inch, he snaps his hips, filling you fully, head pressing against your cervix.

“Ah, fuck~!” You white-knuckle the sheets, toes curling, forcing you to tip-toe, his pelvis presses against your hips. You breath raggedly, getting used to not just the burn his fat cock forces from your walls, but the stinging pleasure the same burn forces through you. You haven’t been fucked in way too long, and you’re already sure no one will ever feel as good as Jisung does right now. You’d needed him, not just any guy, but him. That’s why you haven’t tried looking for a date, your subconscious knowing you need your sweet friend to rail you stupid. Jisung breathes hard as well, trying to let you get at least a little used to the stretch, but your sticky, wet heat feels too good.

“I need to move, (Y/N).”

“Please~” You whine, squealing with delight as he pulls back no more than halfway, then slowly back in. It’s like he’s sucked the air out of you, then forced it back in, but his next thrust makes you see stars. As he leans over you, hips battering your ass with hard, shallow thrusts, his hands lie over yours, weaving his fingers through yours. The sweet move is overshadowed by his animal pace, your whimpers and squeaks just as feral. He’s still trying to hold back some, but when he can’t hold back a hard snap, he feels the same flutter as before and grinds his cock into you as you cum, spurts of slick coating his groin and balls as you squirt around him. Your shudders and pulses last nearly twice as long and when you finally lie still, he starts back up himself. Your cunt stings slightly, not ready for the friction once more, but the pain just fuels the pleasure. Without the bed underneath you, you’d have melted onto the floor, not strength left. Wanting to protests when he unweaves your fingers, he falls forward, his chest to your back. Not too tightly, he wraps his arm under you, across your collar bone, then down to your chest, pulling you up just enough that the arm around you restricts you, forcing your elbows to stay at your hips. Your nails dig into the fabric under your lower stomach, Jisung easily holding you up just a bit from the bed. His other arm also snakes around you, his hand splaying over your lower stomach. You’re sensitive there, more than most people, and just the pressure alone makes you mewl. Jisung presses harder, able to feel the bulge of his cock below your skin and as he settles into position, you realize why he’s holding you so tight: he’s holding you in place. His next thrust starts with only the head of his cock inside, then he barrels his dick back into you, fucking you with abandon. You gasp, not able to even squeak or moan, mouth open in a silent scream, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“Ji-Jisung~! Please, fuck-!” You breathe out, your next orgasm washing over you, leaving the friction painful. The pain crests hard and fast as he continues to pound into you, fading back into pleasure. So much of your release and wet spill from your fluttering cunt that it drips onto the floor, down both of your thighs.

“I’m going to cum, noona. Full you up, yeah?” He whimpers deeply, almost groaning, hips faltering slightly.

“Yes, yes~! Jisung~!” He drops both of you to the bed then, pressing you down into the mattress, gouging his cock as deep as he can, and pumping your protected womb and cunt full of his hot cum. It spurts out in globs with your own cum, dripping a bigger puddle onto the floor, the hard pulse of his cock even stronger as he fills you. Your vision blurs, ears ringing as you cum once more, grateful that he stills, actually really hurting at that point. Reveling in his full weight on your back, he then registers he’s laying on you like that and pulls up just a bit.

“You okay?” He nuzzles the back of your ear.

“S-stings…” You get out hoarsely.

“Ah…” He winces with you as he pulls his still half-hard length from you, more globs of jizz and slick leaving your cunt.

“I don’t think I’ll walk for four days…” You mutter. It takes him a second to register what you mean before her bursts into laughter, pressing his sweaty forehead to your shaking shoulder.

“Good enough?” You ask and he hums.

“Fucking perfect.

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[peachsukii]

So…….I’m still here. And then I had a dream with more lol.

Thinking about Bakugo buying himself a lingerie set to show off to you. He debates on what color you’d prefer, eventually settling for a classic black lace two-piece set. This was, after all, him testing the waters for your reaction.

He takes an extra long shower after his patrol shift, and even used your favorite moisturizer to prep for his surprise. Once your text lights up his phone that you’re finally on the way home, Bakugo strips out of his sweats and into the lingerie. He never thought he’d be into dressing up for you, but he felt sexy as hell - a foreign experience to him. The top accentuated his pecs, making them look bigger in the halter-top style while the matching lace shorts hugged his ass perfectly, showing off his toned thighs.

He saunters out into the kitchen and throws on his apron overtop the garment, moving to the stove to heat up the dinner he made for you earlier (and an excuse to have you speechless right when you walk in the door). It's the longest 10 minutes of Bakugo's life, waiting for the click of the lock to your shared apartment, and when he hears it, a full shiver of anticipation wracks his body.

Thank god for the extra stretch in the crotch, too.

"I'm home!" you call out from the entryway, tossing your keys onto the side table and kicking your shoes off.

"Sorry I'm late, paperwork was such a bitch to..." your words trail off into nothing when you round into the kitchen, catching a glimpse of your boyfriend's ass peaking out from the back of his apron. Bakugo snickers at your reaction, turning the heat off on the stove.

"Leave your mouth open any longer and I'll have'ta make use of it."

You're in disbelief, blinking rapidly to wake yourself up if this is a dream - and you pray it isn't.

"...you gonna just stand there or say somethin'?" Bakugo rasps, cheeks turning pink as he whips his head sideways to avoid eye contact. You clear your throat, attempting to compose yourself as you approach him, slinking your arms around his waist to untie the back of the apron and lifting it over his head. When it falls to the ground, you can feel the rush of arousal flooding your abdomen over the statuesque sight of his body.

"To hell with the leftovers, you're a whole goddamn meal, Katsuki."

You don't even give him time to respond before your lips crash onto his, pinning him against the kitchen counter and letting your hands wander over the fabric, groping his pecs and ass interchangebly.

"Hope you know what you're getting into," you mumble between kisses and biting his lower lip. "I'm gonna make you beg on your knees, and if you're a good boy, I'll reward you with whatever you want."

Bakugo can feel his body burning up at your demand, and his cock twitches at the way 'good boy' spills from your lips. Your pointer finger drags from his collarbone and stops under his chin, beckoning him to follow you back to the bedroom.

"You're buying more of these, immediately. In every fucking color."

[maissafespace]

The More, The Merrier.

Reo Mikage x Fem!Reader x Nagi Seishiro.

Request: so sorry but i forgot to add!! could u include double penetration w the reonagi 3some? thank u !!

Warnings: relationship; best friends, childhood friends. explicit sexual content; threesome, foreplay, dry humping, virgin!reader, virgin!reo, virgin!nagi, oral male receiving and female receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, double penetration, anal, overstimulation, degradation kink, praising kink, mean!reo, soft!nagi, double creampies, multiple orgasms, aftercare.

A/n: ngl this was really hot to write. lol. this request was from october of freaking last year lol i'm sorry but i hope i did some justice if you're even still following. send a coffee!

Masterpost - Masterlist.

You didn't know exactly how you were still friends with Reo, the guy changed and discarted friends like nothing, so to be by his side after a lifetime was surprising to everyone.

So surprising that some people thought you two were in a relationship for some time now.

You weren't, to clear the record.

But there was never a denial on whether you found him attractive enough to sleep with him, the opportunity was simply never given and you were for sure never going to ask just to calm your curiosity on his abilities in bed. It would have been slightly desperate on your part. Even if you dreamt about it in your early teens.

Then, he befriended Nagi, you did too as he brought him around. Another one that you couldn’t help but find attractive, honestly, only blind people wouldn’t. His height was enough to get you riled up, along with the general different in size between the two of you. He was a stud.

Growing and maturing, they both just got better, but it got worse for you as the two untouchable people in your life continued to appear in your horniest of dreams.

Nonetheless, you found yourself cheering for the two of them during every match, you could be in, congratulating them both if they won, consoling them, cooking if they lost, spending your breaks from uni the three of you together, making trips during the holidays...

You three were inseparable, the three best friends.

The three that many believed were fucking between each other.

Reaching Reo’s family house like every other Saturday afternoon with the difference of it not being his apartment, you met his father at the door, he smiled at you warmly, informing you that Nagi was here too with Reo playing videogames, while hewas going to go to an emergency meeting right then. He patted your head as he left the house.

There was a tingling in your stomach for some reason as you made your way up, brushing that to the side you finally entered the room finding Nagi sat with his back to the bed on the ground, while Reo was crossed leg on the bed a bit hunched over.

Your body and his mattress were one and only in a second, laying down beside him, your head close to Nagi's head and Reo's leg.

You felt the slight tension in the room, the awkward air that was hanging heavy at your appearence.

"Hi, are we going to stay like this for long?" You asked as minutes passed where they stood still as statues with their fingers being their only indication of life.

Their eyes met one another briefly, your eyebrow started to arch in confusion. The game became silent seconds later, Nagi was scratching the back of his head as Reo put things back into place all without saying a word and never looking at you.

"What is wrong with you two today?" You asked calmly and honestly a bit scared, were they going to dump you? Or well, stop your friendship?

Reo cleared his throat loudly, leaning against his desk directly in front of you, arms crossed and body stiff trying to relax for whatever he was going to say next. "Well... we were kind of, we talked about something before that left us wondering a bit, you just came in at the… wrong time, I guess."

"Good, what is that?" They kept looking at each other as if choosing who'd say it, patience was running thin now. "Guys."

"Having a threesome." Nagi said as unbothered as ever. Your eyes widened but other than that you kept your compsure, without noticing arching your back. Looking back and forth once again between the two.

"You guys... had a threesome?" You asked baffled. For some reason you felt a bit hurt at the admission. Despite being 18, you were up till then still virgin-

"No! No! We- we just talked about it, like a possibility in the future to experience and then you walked in and things got awkward, since you know- ugh." Reo explained quickly with a hand rubbing his face out of the slight embarrassment he was currently feeling. You felt relief, at least some groupie had not taken them,.. from you.

It felt wrong to think of them as yours but for years they were just that, yours. The only girl they let close to them, the only girl they hugged and complimented.

A chill ran down your whole body, a feeling you knew too well was pooling in your core, you realized that two of the most attractive guys you knew, were standing right there, with a open possibility of having them at the same time without it being awkward in your small friend group.

You stood up, thinking over your next actions carefully as they just looked you pacing around the room and just like you feeling a certain heat in them. Looking at one another, Reo with a tiny smirk.

With your silence he was getting angrier though rather than frustrated, the previous embarrassment completely left in favor of supressing the need to bonk you on the head and stop walking around.

"You're making me dizzy." Nagi said out loud, basically reading his mind. Stopping you in your spot.

"Would you though?" You directly looked at them, more at Reo. He shrugged his shoulders, eyes never leaving you while Nagi gave more of a lazy nod.

Your mind went blank for a second, and when you felt conscious of your own moves, your eyes were half lidded looking directly into Reo's, while the smacking of your lips echoed in the room as they moved so hungrily against the other.

Nagi's figure was behind you, his lips attached to your neck with his hands under your shirt. Your chest pressed against Reo's, your hands on his abs while your ass pressed strongly against Nagi's crotch.

Reo's fingers played with the button of your pants, watching your face flush pink and red in the sloppy kiss, a corner of his lips went up. You seemed so fucked out already and that had him amused, it was arousing to see the composed little girl a puddle in his arms, with his best friend's hands groping all around you.

This was the time he could finally act on his attraction, as much as Nagi could and even you could, without making it worse for all, for this moment at least.

His hand hid behind the zipper of your pants, fingers finding the slick in your freshly shaved skin and he wondered with a grin how many times you walked in so prepared for this moment. Oh fuck, that thought was getting him harder.

Your thighs clenched together at his finger messing with your sensitive clit already. You knew you were mess, but that would make it far more interesting. Your reaction to his fingering had a clear effect on Nagi as well as your rear pushed towards his crotch even more, the bulge a complete hard on, his groans against your skin told it all.

Reo used his free hand to pull away from your kiss, lips swollen and red, soft gasps as you caught your breath but he guided you towards Nagi, your lips connected with his, his hands squeezing your breasts even more, he watched in satisfaction how needy you were as your hand struggle with his pants, trembling and getting frustrated over them.

Your tongue danced with Nagi’s, your body responding to the difference in size as he hunched over to properly kiss you. His hands were burning on your skin, they were far bigger than anything on your body, almost feeling inadequate. You probably were nothing compared to the girls that threw themselves at them, but you couldn’t let yourself down now. If this was your only chance, you had to properly use it.

“Nagi, Reo…” you moaned their names as Nagi’s started to kiss your neck again. “Fuck.”

Nagi slipped your top off in that moment, letting you gasp at the cold air and the sudden wet feeling of Reo’s mouth on your chest. Your face flushed seeing him taking your nipples in his mouth, your hand going around his neck gently, squeezing him whenever either of them gave you stimulation.

Nagi’s long fingers did their job as the palm of his hand pressed against your clit while the tip of two fingers went in and out of your tight hole.

All of your inexperience surfaced at how hungrily you were all dry humping on each other to feel more. Your hips were rubbing against Nagi’s roughly, you could even feel the heat of your clothes at the continuous friction while your hand remained on Reo’s buckling hips. “Shit.” He said over and over. Grabbing your wrist roughly edging himself and just bringing you to his bed, throwing you over it, landing on your stomach, with your hips wiggling on their own.

“Fuck…” you moaned, gasping for air.

You felt the bed dip near your head, looking at Nagi he leaned down to claim your lips as Reo started to take off your pants and panties. Leaving you completely bare, exposed to these hungry men.

The white haired boy led your hand to his crotch, starting to palm it through his pants and slowly taking him out. His cock was bright pink at the tip, oozing a bit of precum, only the sight made your insides melt and you knew they knew, after all Reo who was then fingering you, made the sound of your wet pussy echo in the room. The squelch would have felt embarrassing if it wasn’t for how taken you were with the pretty cock in front of you and your flushed best friend eagerly waiting for you to take him in your mouth.

You moaned at the gentle hand on your face as he guided your hand down the length of his cock. Flinching when you felt the tip of Reo’s tongue starting to explore your cunt. Your legs had closed off or tried as he kept them apart forcefully, with your hand on his hand, gripping on it. “Stop moving around, Y/N. I need to have a taste.” You gave up, listening his voice, raspy, intimidating and a hidden hint of desperation.

They did not stop themselves, you couldn’t even see how Reo was stroking himself at the heightened and intensified pleasure you were receiving.

The amount of time passed reading erotic books and watching porn felt worth while as you practiced what you had visualized. Your tongue swirled around his shaft, moaning around it as much as massaging all around, from the base to his balls to leaving nail marks on his inner thighs and lower abdomen. “Oh, that’s my girl. So good.” Nagi whispered as his hips bucked into your mouth, gagging as he reached the back of your throat.

Your moans grew louder as you felt your climax reach in Reo’s face. Trying to push him off before without success, your thighs clenched around his head as you gave into it. Spasming as he continued to press his tongue on your clit while Nagi continued to fuck your mouth as he kept you in place.

“Come on, baby, a little more.” He whispered to you, as the other side of the bed dipped signaling Reo’s presence. Stroking himself off on top of you as Nagi’s finally cummed into your mouth, drinking down all of his seed after showing it off to him and then caring for Reo’s climax, taking him in your mouth for him to finish.

You’ve probably dreamt of this scenario secretly, as you sat up, the two took turns to claim your lips, grunting at the taste of their cum mix together still present faintly on your lips. Your hands returning to each of their cocks, starting to harden once again.

It was a heated make out session that ended with you on top of Reo, Nagi standing by the bed looking at you two as his cock finally entered you with a bit of struggle.

You were no longer a virgin and so wasn’t Reo anymore. It all happened while your other best friend was intently watching the two of you. You both moaned as he started to move, it was completely different from the feeling of their fingers, you felt filled, truly. You tried to move your hips to match his, your thighs burning while your brain couldn’t function either.

His feet planted on the bed and pushed into you with even more force, feeling him hit spots you’ve never reached by yourself. Your nails dug into his chest. A smirk plastered on his face. “You can take it, love, don’t disappoint me.” He whispered as his hand wrapped around your throat, moaning at the gesture as he pushed back into you making you almost scream. You looked around for your gentle giant, wanting his lips on yours, to share this moment with you too.

Your half-lidded could only make out his figure going around the bed with something in his hand. Losing sight of him as your eyes shut close at a deep thrust from Reo.

Only when you felt liquid dripping onto you, you understood, with Reo’s hands going to your ass spreading it apart for him as he kept going into you. You whimpered as you felt his finger spreading the lube and entering your hole. “Na-Nagi… I don’t-t think I can-“ You managed to say.

“Shh… dont worry, baby, look at you taking Reo so well for your first time. This will be the same.” He traced a line down your spine, making you shiver, your legs tremble as you then watched him spread lube on his own cock.

Reo stopped his movements, edging himself once again as he waited for Nagi as well teasing you all along for your reaction to it. “Thank god that it’s Nagi taking your ass, I wouldn’t be so caring.” And while the semi- warning sent goosebumps on your skin, making you gasp against his lips, you felt yourself clench around him, after all, this whole encounter was of you being used by them. He grinned at the feeling of the walls tightening around him, hissing. “Fuck, you’re a slut… our little slut.” He said, kissing you, relaxing you as Nagi made his way into you.

He groaned as the mere tip passed the ring of muscles, you felt burning, whimpering against Reo’s lips, pulling away from them to moan and grab one of Nagi’s hands in your own. He pushed more and more till he was getting his way into you, grunting loudly. “So fucking tight, shit, princess, it’s so tight.” Your heart flattered at the pet name. Pecking your shoulder, giving you time to adjust before both of them started again.

You were a moaning mess, tears coming down your eyes at the weird feeling in you, between pain and pleasure, over fulfillment and the knot that you felt in your stomach. All your limbs were intertwined, your hips going against their thrusts automatically. You could only imagine if someone walked in on you right now, being rammed by the two guys you always had the hots for secretly.

“Oh god-“ You choked on your words. “It feels so good.” You managed.

“You’re taking it so well, princess. So gorgeous.”

“Perfect slut for us, ours alone.”

They emanated opposite sides of each other. Reo was not so respectful anymore, was not treating you gently, he was degrading you. Nagi who was often crude and more inclined to inappropriate jokes was so caring and praised so much. Both were fulfilling your desires, rough and gentle.

“I- I- I’m going to- ah!” You screamed as you felt your orgasm going through. You could hear them groan as your insides clenched and trapped them, almost milking them out. When you relaxed a little they kept going, going for their own release.

Planting his feet again, holding onto your thighs, Reo thrusted mercilessly as much as Nagi did as he grabbed your shoulders from behind and guided your whole body against his.

Your body didn’t feel like yours for a moment, completely bent at their wills and needs. And you could only welcomed it, your body reacting to your oversensitivity from the previous orgasm as they both finally released deep in you and you did too. Trembling in their hands. As the three of you panted for oxygen, their hips still spasming as their ropes of cum continued to fill you.

“So good, you were so good, baby.” Nagi whispered into your ear as he leaned down and finally stood up.

“Took it so well for your first time.” Reo chuckled, kissing the crown of your head, his arm going over your waist, hugging you to him. His personality completely changing post orgasm. He had to be cocky, as if this wasn't his first as well.

Nagi came back with his phone in hand, Reo grinning as he slowly raised you up to let his cock out as he recorded your rear and cunt as they started to push out their cum. “That’s a sight to remember.” Nagi said under his breath.

“Send it to me, that’s material to jerk off in away games.” Reo said, patting your lower back. You blushed, nuzzling into his chest. “Done” Nagi said and not even seconds later his phone rang out loud.

“You shouldn’t do that without asking me first.” You complained, tracing the lines of Reo’s muscles. Nagi, then, leaned near you, trapping your lips in a kiss. “Can we keep it?” He asked pecking your lips once more and caressing your cheek ever so gently.

“Fine.” You nodded and chuckled at the silly grins they got.

He resumed the kiss and soon after you were being carried in the bathroom, Nagi’s cock thrusting into your swollen pussy from behind as Reo had your hair in a tight fist bouncing it up and down his length as the hot water rained upon the three of you.

Nothing was truly established that night, you were just being fucked throughly, used as nothing more than a cumdump for them, sometimes they both did, sometimes just one and the other watched.

Before you completely passed out, the only thing you heard is how now you knew how they wanted to be greeted by you, how this was going to be their celebration or consolation routine, their stress relieving cycle.

How you were theirs.

You honestly weren’t sure if this was just another of your wet dreams, but when you woke up the day after still in Reo’s bed with his t-shirt on, no panties, with your head on Nagi’s bare chest and Reo’s hand gripping your boob from below, you realized that nothing was going to be the same and fortunately for you, in a positive way.

not my best work. we can get there tho lol. tip! on my master post it’s the ko fi link if you can😓

[peapod20001]

OUGGHHHHH OUGH OOUGGGGHHHGG

💜💜💜

"Asher!"

Artfight revenge for @peapod20001 with their OC Asher!

[melrosing]

why do you ship Braime ? What attracts you to them ?

like a hundred reasons i like them!!! but shortlist off the top of my head:

I like that they're both fully realised characters who can be enjoyed individually as well as together. i always get bored quickly w a ship if one of them feels kind of under developed and it's only one half of the ship that i really care about, it's not fun

I like that there are themes within their relationship that go beyond the romance itself, or rather the romance also encompasses those themes, e.g. knighthood & honour, beauty, legacy, the romance of the forest, etc

they have everything like if you want to enjoy them as a more light-hearted romance you can bc they're both daft as hell in their own ways and there are plenty of things that are weirdly sweet about their relationship, but also they have plenty of heavier themes if you want to indulge in angst

so many fucking crowd pleasing scenes that u can't really go wrong with. bearpit? banger. white sword tower? banger. bathtub confessions? banger. red ronnet? banger!!! like in many ways they're wildly unconventional but in others it's like, they just have some classic romance tropes going on like i've always thought of the bearpit chapter as the westerosi equivalent of a romcom airport dash lol i just love it

grrm writing them as his own BATB!!! this was so so real of him and i will never shut up about it

literally just everything like the matching swords the weirwood dreams their genderbend grandparents there's just a lot going on here

also generally i love their particular ship dynamic, it's a commonality across a few others i've liked in the past and i think jb just happen to be the strongest case study of that particular dynamic. so like. ofc i like them

idk i just think they're neat they just don't get old for me. still staring into space sometimes like wao..... jb

[mymoshangthoughts]

oki my guys can we plz talk about gold digger airplane?

like look, i know it's nice to write him with the moral fortitude to not want to take advantage of his partner financially and ngl, some of my favorite fics have portrayed him as being uncomfortable with people buying him shit

but dearest to my heart, this man will hug any thigh in the name of gold-digging his way to comfort

pride? what pride? who has time for pride when you've written a million words describing papapa for the explicit purpose of paying your bills. you look down on those who have the pride to be uncomfortable with expensive gifts

you have one of several reactions when you are presented with an expensive gift

score! i love this, i wanted this, it's mine. if they try to take it back i will weep and beg and bite

score! i hate this, its totally gross looking, imma sell it off at a marked up price and get a profit out of this worthless fucking gift

score! this means that i have this level of monetary value to the person gifting me, which means i can ask for more shit, better shit, give me an inch and i will take a mile

score! this person is clearly dumb with their money and will therefore be easily persuaded into spoiling me fucking rotten. this is it, boys. we made it

or really any variation of this

look, he might totally love the person gifting him the items. assume its his one true love, the icy king mobei jun himself and he is looking at this glamorous diamond gift going "o...m...g... he's dumb with money. this is the jackpot. sexy, cool, AND easily exploited for cash?! I WILL MARRY THIS MAN"

look

i just want shameless gold digger shang qinghua so fucking bad

also literally mobei jun realizing that shang qinghua is weak to wealth and just being like "oki so imma just literally bury him in diamonds so he'll never even think to leave me" bc mobei jun Does Not Care

whether shang qinghua is staying for his massive tits or his expansive treasury, so long as shang qinghua stays, he is a happy dude

but also yes i want him to be mean about it LOL please make shang qinghua cry by confiscating his diamond collection. do it.

shang qinghua cackling as he counts his money and being on top of the world and calculating how much he'd get in a potential divorce (because he's cynical as fuck and he WILL win the divorce, fuck you. even tho he has no intention of divorcing this man. that would be like killing the golden goose or whatever)

and sure, shang qinghua does 100% absolutely love his husband. if his husband was poor as dirt, shang qinghua would still be there at his side through thick and thin. his feelings go beyond money and he would pinch every penny for the rest of his life to be with his beloved. this is all true about him and his feelings of love and loyalty are sincere as fuck

but does that mean he isnt OVER THE FUCKING MOON TO MARRY RICH? dude, he is living his fucking dream and he is going to take FULL advantage of this gloriously bountiful life. it's like finding out your boyfriend is well-endowed. like sure, you'd still love him if he had a small dick, BUT YOU ARE NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT THAT BIG DICK, NOT AT ALL, YOU INTEND TO ENJOY THAT BIG DICK TO THE FULLEST EXTENT

thank you for attending my insane rant, long life gold-digger airplane. may he thrive!

shen yuan: *scrunches up his face* how can you deal with that? he treats you like a wallet

mobei jun: eh, he has yet to figure out that ive basically used that wallet to trap him in this relationship

shen yuan: that sounds like financial abus--

airplane: HUBBY! I WANT A NEW PAIR OF SHOES! THE ONES THAT COST AS MUCH AS CAR!

shen yuan: ...ya know what, match made in heaven. im going home.

(shen yuan who would absolutely hate if binghe treated him like a wallet but also spoils his binghe rotten without being asked and would 100% be uncomfortable receiving expensive gifts from binghe lolol)

[damiansgoodgirll]

reader has clearly daddy issues and has a crush on damian (she’s in her early twenties) and she romanticise everything he does for her, like driving back home etc…..but he thinks of her as a daughter or little sister and it pains her , make it angsty please ❤️❤️❤️

reader is so me lol

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️a little angsty, some feels, unwanted male attention, alcohol, reader is lana del rey coded and that’s a warning

think i need someone older

damian was older than you. much older than you. you probably had a sixteen year age gap but that never stopped you from romanticising everything he did for you.

rhea said that it was just a silly crush. she laughed when you told her that in your mind, damian was hot. but to you, he wasn’t just hot. he was kind, caring, compassionate and generous. he was all you always looked in a man.

but he would never see you the way you saw him. he always thought of you like a friend or, as he liked to call you, a little sister.

as your mind was wandering off, you couldn’t help but watch him train with rhea. they were both in the ring, practicing some moves but your focus was all on the way his body was moving, sweats falling down his chest, his long hair falling over his shoulders.

you couldn’t stop but thinking of him. every single time.

“….hello? earth to y/n?” punk distracted you and woke you from your dreams.

“uh? sorry?” you replied, a little annoyed.

“i asked, are you still using the bench or can i use it?” he repeated.

“oh, sorry…no it’s all yours” you immediately stood up, your eyes never leaving the ring.

punk thanked you but followed your eyes as they landed on rhea and damian “they’re good together”

“she’s married, you know” you didn’t mean to go into defensive mode but the idea of damian and rhea together made you throw up.

“i know…i was talking about as a tag team…they are really good together, they know how to move, how to make their enemies on their knees” punk explained, a little confused about your sudden reaction “is everything okay y/n?”

“yeah…sorry, i was just focused on learning those moves” you lied. you couldn’t care less about the moves when damian was half naked, pinning rhea down on the ring.

punk was satisfied with your answer and a twenty minutes later he was done using the bench. rhea and damian were done with their training session and they both popped out of the ring, making their way to the changing rooms. you followed them, going into the female changing room, you quickly took off your sport bra and matching leggings and cursed yourself when you saw that it started raining outside and all you had on were a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“you’re gonna freeze in that” rhea laughed, making you roll your eyes. if it was a different day, you would have laughed but your mood was going crazy and her little sarcastic jokes weren’t funny.

she ignored you, realising you weren’t in the mood to talk and you both left the gym.

“fuck it’s freezing…” you mumbled but damian was able to hear you as he came from behind and placed his sweatshirt over your shoulders.

“here you go princesa…i don’t want you to get sick…” he smiled, making his way towards his car “do you want me to take you home? do you have a ride?” he asked and you said no.

rhea initially offered to take you home as you came to the gym with her but she was taking too long chatting with phil and you were standing under the rain, freezing and shivering.

“okay, i’ll take you home, let’s go” he smiled, opening the passenger door for you. that simple gesture made your heart warm.

the ride was nice. he spoke about some silly shows he watched last night and you weren’t even paying attention to the shows, all your focus was on his thick voice. the way he used to switch from english to spanish and then to english again made your skin shiver.

if he only knew the effect he had on you.

“everything okay y/n? you seem a little lost” he asked, awaking you from your thoughts.

“no, i’m fine…i swear, just a little tired” you smiled.

he seemed to believe it so he let it go. once you were in front of your house, you moved to take his sweatshirt off but he stopped you “keep it on” he said “you’ll give it back once it’s not raining anymore” his smile was enough to make you fall on your knees but you composed yourself and thanked him.

inside of your house you let all that rage out, letting out a loud scream that probably would have made your neighbours worry, if only they cared.

you were tired.

you were tired of constantly being rejected, you were tired of falling in love with the wrong person. you needed a distraction. you couldn’t keep crying over someone who didn’t appreciate you they way you wanted.

still wearing his hoodie, his scent filling the room, it took you two seconds to download dating apps and look for a distraction. a few guys immediately texted you. they were good looking, probably kind and nice too, but they weren’t damian.

you picked the nicest one, asking him if he was free tonight and when he said yes, you had yourself a date.

you repeated again, trying to get that feeling in your head - you needed a distraction, from damian, from your feelings towards him.

so you wore your cute little black dress, a pair of matching heels, you did your make up and hair and in less that two hours you were already in the stranger car, letting him drive and take you to some restaurant. the place he chose was nice, probably expensive too but you didn’t care. if he wanted to spend his money on you, who were you to complain?

during the date you found out that he was quite boring. always talking about himself and his job. you learned that he was working in the family business, meaning he was rich rich. you learned that he didn’t care about people who were under him, you learned how he thought he was the best person in the world and that no one could compare.

in that moment you realised that if you stayed at home and cried yourself to sleep, you would have had more fun.

as expected he paid the bill and took you to some club in downtown.

club meant alcohol, alcohol meant feeling so dizzy that you would forget about your problems. you were impulsive, you had always been. but if alcohol worked, you couldn’t say no.

the music was loud and you could feel your whole body shaking. it was a nice feeling, maybe it would have worked for a few hours - you thought.

he offered you a glass of champagne, then another one and another one again that with three glasses of champagne you were already tipsy but not drunk as you wanted to be. so you excused yourself and ordered an entire bottle of wine, for you and your partner, but mostly for you. he was surprised when he saw you coming back with two glasses and an entire bottle full of alcohol. he definitely wasn’t going to say no to that. so you started drinking, realising how bad of an idea was.

he took you to the dance floor and even if you weren’t in no mood to dance, the music was pretty nice so you started swaying your hips over the dance floor. he took that as a sign to dance with you, but having a stranger’s body over yours made you shiver. you tried to move away but his hands were already on your hips, touching you in places you didn’t want.

“get off” you whispered, hoping that he would listen but he didn’t “get off!” you screamed a little louder making him drop his hands.

“woah” he laughed “what’s with that attitude?”

attitude? he was the one who brag about how rich and cool he was all night but you were the one with attitude?

“don’t touch me…” you whispered.

he was probably too drunk to realise what you were saying because he brought his hands back to your hips, holding you closer to his chest. his hands moved to your booty and that was your sign to go away.

“let me go you fucking pervert” you moved his hands away and went to grab your purse but his hand grabbed your arm, making you turn to his direction.

“you’re a fucking bitch! seducing me all night just to have a free meal and free drinks! you’re just a whore, go back to the streets, where you belong” he laughed before he moved to distract some other girls.

his words didn’t hurt you. you couldn’t care less so why were you crying in the middle of the road, shivering because it was freezing and all you were wearing was a short dress?

you knew boys couldn’t take care of you like damian would and that made you cry even harder. despite the fact that you were drunk, with no car to go back home and it was starting to rain again, you realised how stupid you were.

you thought about calling rhea but you knew she would have scolded you and you definitely weren’t in the mood for that. calling punk was out of line, he helped you a couple of times and he was great companion backstage but you weren’t that friends so you didn’t want to disturb him. your only option was damian, the man you’ve been causing all of this drama for.

when you were sure he wasn’t going to pick up, you heard his voice from the other side of the phone “hello?”

“damian…it’s me, i…” you didn’t know what to say. you were shivering, crying in the middle of the road, you were scared and alone.

“y/n” his voice worried “is everything okay? it’s two in the morning…are you okay?”

you took a deep breath “i’m not at home…i-i don’t know how to get back home damian…i’m drunk and”

“what you mean you’re not at home and you’re drunk?” he couldn’t believe his ears.

“i had a date but…he wouldn’t stop touching me and i left…i don’t know where i am damian…” if he was pissed before because you were out alone, he was worried now that you told him about a man who wouldn’t leave you alone.

“send me your location now, i’ll be there as soon as possible” you did as he said and you looked for a place to sit while waiting for him. the rain started to fall harder and your soft curls were completely ruined, you were sure your mascara was all smudged and your dress all dirty and ruined.

you couldn’t feel the cold anymore as your body went numb.

you waited for about fifteen minutes and when you saw damian’s car moving towards you, you started running and jumped into the vehicle. damian took a good look at you. you were shivering and completely drenched.

“quien es este hijo de puta?” he whispered in spanish. he couldn’t believe someone would leave you all alone in the middle of the night under the rain “i’m gonna kill him” he kept whispering “i’m gonna take you to my place…i don’t want you to stay alone”

you simply nodded, not trusting your own words.

his place was cozy and warm. his house felt like a home.

“here…let me grab you some of my clothes, you know where the bathroom is” he said. it wasn’t the first time he had you over, most of the time you were there with rhea but it was the first time that you were alone with him.

“thanks” you quickly hid into his bathroom. trying to keep your sobs and tears in, you opened the shower door and let all the water fall down, covering the sound of your broken sobs. you were crying, trying to find a reason to your sobbing but you couldn’t find just one.

damian was too kind with you and the idea of having to accept him just as a friend was killing you. the bad date turning into a complete disaster. you, being impulsive as you were, acting and then thinking. you were just you, broken and desperate for attention.

a few minutes later you came out of the bathroom. you removed all of your make up, your hair were half dry thanks to his hairdryer, you were wearing his clothes that were probably too big on you but his perfume invading your nose was comfortable.

he was waiting for you on his couch. when he saw you he sadly smiled at you, letting you know that you could sit next to him.

“im sorry if i woke you up” your broken voice said.

“i wasn’t sleeping” he smiled “but i definitely wasn’t expecting a call from you in the middle of the night” he chuckled “what happened princesa?”

you couldn’t tell him that he was the reason why o acted so careless so you told him half truth “i had a date tonight…and he took me out for dinner, i realised how unpleasant he was the moment i got into his car but something kept me there with him…so once we finished dinner he had this idea of going to a club, i didn’t mind it at first and i had a few drinks…but then i started drinking more and more and” a few tears left your eyes “he started to get touchy and he wouldn’t leave me alone, not even when i told him to get off…and when he realised that i wouldn’t have fucked him, he called me a bitch and a whore…and he basically left me there…i didn’t know where i was and i was scared…i’m so sorry i called you” you kept apologising, realising how stupid you were.

damian hugged you, letting you cry in his big arms “it’s okay…you couldn’t have known” he softly stroked your hair, knowing that it would have calmed you down “ yo voy a matarlo, ese hijo de puta” he whispered in spanish some words that you couldn’t put together.

“the worst part is that i didn’t even like him…” you didn’t mean to let those words out.

“what you mean?”

“i like someone else…but apparently he only thinks of me as a friend…so i used this date as a distraction” you sobbed again “the worst idea i’ve ever had”

“hey shhh…it wasn’t your fault” he comforted you “the guy you like is so stupid, trust me…he doesn’t know what he’s losing, you’re kind and beautiful, i bet there are thousands of boys who wanna date you” he said making you chuckle a little.

if he only knew

“i wish he could see me the way i see him” you confessed.

“he’s blind if he doesn’t see the amazing person that you are…but please, don’t ever go on dates you don’t feel like to go…” he said making you nod your head yes.

“yeah…i think i got the message after tonight” you chuckled.

“do you wanna stay over? i don’t want you to stay alone tonight…i have a guest bedroom that you could use” he offered and you were stupid to say no.

“please…”

he showed you the room and told you to call him if you needed him. you thanked him and softly closed the door, letting yourself falling on the bed, watching the ceiling and wondering what did you do to deserve such a heartbreak.

slowly you drifted off to sleep, letting those tears soak the bedsheets and hoping to find peace in your dreams.

[ayasuki]

6th Bakugou x Reader FANFIC RECS

some are short but they're good hehe (most of these are suggestive :P)

> • 𝑹𝒆𝒄 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕

" Dream Eater " by justatypicaltrash

dream eater!bakugou x reader

warning: slight angst

bakugo is an eternal living dream eater.

" I Like You, Okay?! " by kikyo-bnha-imagines

bakugou x fem!reader

summary: katsuki struggles to confess to his crush.

" Workshopped Romance " by itsmm4hiii

pro-hero!bakugou x fem!reader

summary: working for a hero costume designer has its perks like; meeting heroes, playing with cool technologies, getting you're name out- y/n didn't  really expect her own boss will try and hook her up with a customer. 

" Blood Moonlit, Must be Counterfeit " by irisintheafterglow

pro-hero!bakugou x reader

warning: swearing ofc cuz it's bakugo, mentions of drinking and alcohol, halloween party, first meeting, emotionally constipated katsuki and reader is kinda oblivious lol

summary: a guy at a party has a really good dynamight costume, and you two get to talking about your favorite heroes.

WARNING | beneath the cut are slightly suggestive to full on smut fics

" no title " by moominsuki

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: ch. 359-362 spoilers kinda. a little suggestive but fluff all around

summary: katsuki hates being off the job. but what he hates more is being treated like glass, especially by you.

" as the years go by " by quitesins

pro-hero!bakugou x fem!reader

warning: suggestive, slight nsfw, friends to lovers, unrequited love ig? virgin!reader, drabble

summary: being friends with bakugou since UA, watching each other change as the years go by, but still having room to learn more, so much more.

" no title " by izvmimi

warning: palace drama au, multiple wives, fem!reader, brief explicit sex.

" One More Time " by yanderenightmare

warning: derogatory dirty talk, spanking, angsty but with a fluffy ending

" no title " by dreamland03

bakugou x reader

warning: mention of sex like once, drinking, mention of trauma, bad self image

" Come Sit " by saturnorbits

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: cock-warming

summary: after a long day, all you need is bakugo.

" Feral " by smiley-babe

wolfhybrid!bakugou x fem!reader

warnings: aged up characters, lowkey monster fucking (hybrid bakugo has wolf ears, a tail, and fangs), knotting, HUGE breeding kink, no specific dynamics, biting, small blood kink (if you squint), marking/ bonding, heat/ rut behavior, panty sniffing, kind of rough sex, oral (f receiving), and fingering

summary: taking in a wolf hybrid already didn’t seem like a good idea, but when spring hits… all hell breaks loose.

" Personal Trainer!BKG " by bakubunny

personal trainer!bakugou x plus size!fem!reader

warning: oral sex (m receiving), rough sex.

" On To Better Things " by savnofilter

prohero!dilf!bakugou x fem!reader

warning: angst, strangers to lovers

sfw | toxic & abusive relationship, toxic baby daddy, mentions postpartum, mental health, arguing, mentions of legal proceedings, counseling, drama, cultural family expectations, love bombing, manipulation, a man being a hypocrite, reader low-key needs a new circle of people around them but that's neither here nor there, reader loves their daughter to pieces </3, reader's daughter is a hand full but we stan!, reader spaces out a lot, "our kids are best friends but we never met before and so happen to be single" trope.

nsfw | fingering, cunnilingus, groping, praise kink, reader has multiple orgasms (2, hinted 4), reader is a bit shy as it's been awhile and feels nervous, vocal queen reader, clothed sex, protected sex, comforting!bakugo, non-established relationship.

" Swipe Right " by ryukatters

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp

summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.

" no title " by katbakubae

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: language, dom!bakugou, possessiveness, jealousy, (mild) stalking, name calling, spanking, rough oral.

summary: sick of your boyfriends lack of time with you because of his busy schedule, you decided to take some time for yourself. unfortunately, letting that happen was never an option for him.

[lookingforariaa]

𝜗𝜚 scrolling through your instagram page, expect you're hayden christensen's controversially young gf

ib: @hopesworlld ▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

yourusername

liked by hayden.christensen, natalieportman and more

yourusername: table for two, please

view all comments pinned hayden.christensen I love you ❤️    ↳ yourusername love u more 💗    ↳  user1 they're so cute omfg liked by author natalieportman my favourites 💞    ↳ yourusername YOU'RE my favourite, LOVEE YOUU SMSM 🥹

yourbestie still don't approve of the grandpa lol    ↳ yourusername stop bullying him 💔    ↳ user2 GRANDPA?? LMAOO

user3 UGHHH SHE SO FUCKING LUCKY

user4 omg the hand placement... stop it

user5 dude they give such wattpad couple vibes i just can't    ↳ user6 AHHH I KNOW THEY'RE LIKE A TOTAL BILLIONAIRE COUPLE    ↳ user7 i love them sm they're lit my comfort couple

user8 HOW TO BE HERR BRUHH

user9 she's living every 10 year old boys fantasy rn fr    ↳ user10 cus she's doing anakin skywalker? 100%

yourusername

liked by hayden.christensen, ariana_greenblatt and more

yourusername: mornings like these

view all the comments

pinned hayden.christensen ❣️

user1 did she js give us anakin skywalker's free feet pics??    ↳ user2 LMAOOO 😭 😭 JAIL!! NOW!!

user3 if u look closer u can seem me jumping off the empire state

liked by author user4 when's the wedding?    ↳ user5 AHH SHE LIKED IT!! FORESHADOWING??    ↳ user4 SHOW USS THE RINGGG

user6 mama y papa

user7 AHHH AINT NO WAY HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN HAS A SLUTTY TATTOO ON HIS SLUTTY ASS BACK AHH THAT JUST MADE HIM EVEN HOTTER

hayden.christensen

liked by yourusername, therealewanmcgregor and more

hayden.christensen Filmfare was breathtaking, my special lady made it even more special.

view all the comments pinned yourusername i love you so much my baby 😭    ↳ hayden.christensen I know, love    ↳ user1 AGHHH HES SUCH A SLUTT I NEEED HIM    ↳ user2 its giving lyhfml    ↳ user3 he totally says that shit in bed

user4 sorry it's my fault that i opened insta today

user5 may this typa love find me

user6 the caption is adorable omfg    ↳ user7 exaaacttllyy he is so in love w her it's so adorable

user8 wait how old is she?    ↳ user9 22    ↳ user8 wtf isn't he like 43-    ↳ user10 i know its kinda creepy    ↳ user11 yall some jealous mfs stfu

yourusername

liked by hayden.christensen, milliebobbybrown and more

yourusername: sitting courtside 🎾💗

view all comments

pinned hayden.christensen Your face made me win the match    ↳ yourusername AWWHHH BABBYYY 🥹 🥹    ↳ user1 the highway looks super nice to have a nap on today liked by author milliebobbybrown love these two ❤️‍🩹    ↳ yourusername we love you more

user2 i hate my life

user3 HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM?!?!

user4 nah bru the age gap is too weird    ↳ user5 ok and? is it any of your business

user6 HES SO PRETTY OMFGGG

user7 you know that feeling when you just know a couple does it good in bed    ↳ user8 we should all know less about each other    ↳ user9 he's not wrong

hayden.christensen

liked by yourusername, tomholland2013 and more

hayden.christensen: "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken."— William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

view all comments

pinned yourusername not u turning into shakespear for me u simp    ↳ hayden.christensen I would turn into anything for you    ↳ user1 and this is how modern darth vader is formed :))

user2 oh my god he is so fucking shakespear coded GODDD I LOVE IT

user3 raw and rough, next question

user4 when is it my chance?

user5 SHE GETS ALL THE PERKS GOD DAMN ITTT OH MY GODDD

user6 A MAN A MAN A M-A-A-ANNNNN

user7 this ruined my whole week ❤️

user8 i don't like men, i just like hayden christensen in general liked by author    ↳ yourusername you ain't alone there    ↳ user9 Y/N LMAOOO 😭😭

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