#i want to give a general warning that i may not sound like the old senfinity for a bit...

[keeryhours]

i like the way you kiss me - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

i like the way you kiss me

i can tell you miss me

i can tell it hits, hits, hits, hits

not tryna be romantic,

i’ll hit it from the back

just so you don’t get attached

Rafe stops over for a surprise visit with his daughter. She may not be home, but that doesn’t mean he has to leave, does it?

Warnings:

Smut (18+ only!), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, slight breeding kink

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N:

Yay, my first Rafe fic! And y’all I haven’t written smut in years so I hope this isn’t awful. I would love to turn this into a sort-of series of interconnected baby daddy! Rafe and baby mama! reader one shots if you guys would be interested in that!

—

“Maaaamaaaaa!”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself when you were woken up by the baby monitor. Iris never woke up angry and crying, you were greeted every morning to the sounds of her babbling to herself and calling for you.

It may have been earlier than you’d like, but it certainly wasn’t a bad way to wake up.

You climbed out of bed, wiping your eyes before standing and walking down the hall towards the nursery. There was a chorus of “Mamamamama” as you headed towards your 1 year old daughter, who greeted you standing in her crib with the biggest smile. Her sleep sack was tucked beneath her feet - you’re not sure how she even manages to stand in it.

“Hi, pretty girl,” you greeted her, earning a giggle from the baby. She never failed to brighten up your mood, just by existing. You always heard a parent’s love for their child is intense, but you didn’t quite believe it until you had her and experienced it yourself.

She also happens to be the cutest baby to ever exist. With her head full of brown hair and blue eyes, she is certainly her father’s daughter. She’s tall for her age, too. You thought it was a little bit bullshit that you carried her for 9 months and did all the hard work just for her to come out her dad’s twin, but how could you really complain when she was so beautiful?

Iris lifted her arms for you to pick her up, and you couldn’t help but give her a snuggle before you moved to the changing table. You got her changed out of her pajamas and into a clean diaper, dressing her for the day in a light green dress with bunnies embroidered on the chest, a long sleeve white shirt underneath.

Iris had an extensive wardrobe. Shopping for clothes and putting together outfits was one of your favorite parts of being a girl mom, so you were certainly guilty of overspending on her, but the truth was that most of her closet came from Rafe. In fact, most of her stuff in general was from Rafe.

You never asked him to do any of that, but he was always showing up unannounced with shopping bags full of baby clothes, toys, anything he saw and thought she would like. Random packages would show up throughout the week, stuff he found online and sent directly to your house. He spoiled her badly, but it made them both happy, so you didn’t complain. You wanted her to have the world, anything she wanted, and you couldn’t quite provide that, but Rafe could.

“Good morning, my favorite tiny person!” Your twin brother, JJ, greeted his niece as he walked into the pink bedroom. She giggled the second she saw him, and he scooped her into his arms, twirling her around and making her laugh harder.

“JayJay!” she exclaimed, her tiny hands reaching for his messy blonde hair immediately.

“And I also exist…” you mumbled as you threw the dirty diaper away in the pail, but you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

JJ acknowledged you with an eye roll before turning right back to Iris. “Are you ready for a day out with Uncle JJ?”

Iris grinned wildly at her uncle, one of her favorite people in the world. She didn’t exactly know what that meant, but if it involved JJ, she was certainly happy to be there.

You made pancakes for breakfast, which both JJ and Iris absolutely devoured. Iris was covered in a mess of syrup when she was finished, but thanks to a combination of her bib and baby smock thing, she didn’t get a drop on her outfit. You cleaned up her face and hands, Iris fighting you the entire time.

“You have everything she needs?” You asked nervously as JJ packed up the diaper bag, Iris dancing in front of the TV to the Bluey theme song.

“I got diapers, wipes, a sippy cup, a change of clothes…I think I’m set, sis,” he said, giving a look that says calm down, I’ve got this.

It was hard for you to not be nervous letting your daughter go off without you. She was still rarely out of your sight, besides Rafe’s weekends. You were too nervous to send her to daycare, at least not yet, and Rafe agreed, so he helped pay the bills in the house you shared with JJ while you stayed home with her, which gave you the chance to work on college courses online.

“You packed snacks in case she gets hungry?” You asked, fiddling with the string of your pajama shorts. You hadn’t even had the chance to get changed into real clothes yet, since you’d been following Iris around all morning and making sure she was set to go.

“Yes,” JJ answered, sounding frustrated. “I’ve got this. We won’t even be gone long, she’s going to be fine.”

You probably would have come up with another question, but you were all interrupted by the front door opening as someone let themselves into the house like they owned the place. You and JJ looked towards the direction of the hallway as the sound of footsteps trailed down it, even though you definitely already knew who it was.

“Dada!” Iris practically squealed, and she ran as fast as her little legs would carry her towards the tall frame of her father, who was grinning like crazy and setting down a bag.

“There’s my girl,” he said, crouching down with his arms open wide to catch her. She tripped over her own feet at the last second, falling against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, standing to his full height again. Iris wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.

“She was just about to head out for a date with Uncle JJ,” you said, smiling at your daughter’s laughing face.

Rafe looked away from her to give you a questioning look. “Why is JJ taking her?” he asked like your brother wasn’t even in the room. JJ rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother to say anything.

“He wanted to spend time with her,” you answered. “And I have a big exam to take so I needed a couple hours alone.”

Rafe looked at you like he was confused, concerned. He was protective of his girl. “If you needed someone to watch her, you should have called me.”

“I know you’d watch her any time,” you said, not wanting to argue with him today. “But JJ really has been wanting to take her to the park, so I told him he could.”

Rafe’s eyes finally went to JJ, and he scoffed with a roll of his eyes, but didn’t push it. He sat Iris back down as JJ zipped up the diaper bag and slung it over his shoulder, picking up the car keys.

“Alright, little lady, ready to go?” JJ asked, a smile on his face as Iris danced around.

“Go! Go!” She chanted, jumping up and down. JJ picked her up, sitting her on his hip.

“Alright. We’re gone,” he said, leaning over to give you a kiss on the cheek. “See you guys later.”

“Have fun!” you called after them. “Be safe!”

JJ acknowledged you with a “Yep!” and then the front door was closing, leaving you alone with Rafe.

You looked at him. He didn’t look like he was in a rush to leave.

“What did you bring?” you asked, gesturing to the bag he had sat by his feet.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he shrugged. “Just some clothes.”

You laughed lightly to yourself - the little girl already had so many clothes, you weren’t sure if she’d be able to wear them all before she grew out of them.

You took the bag from him, sitting it down on the couch to go through later. You always liked to wash her clothes before letting her wear them, because who knows what kind of germs they’ve picked up in the store.

Rafe trailed behind you as you walked back into the kitchen, picking up the dishes from breakfast and washing them in the sink. He stood next to you without a word and helped by drying them after you washed.

When you were done, you turned around, leaning against the counter. Rafe picked up the stack of dishes and put them away in the cabinet they go in, before walking over to stand right in front of you. He reached up, pushing your hair behind your shoulder.

“You look pretty,” he murmured, his eyes taking in your frame.

You laughed softly. “I haven’t even changed out of my pajamas. I just rolled out of bed.”

A smile played at Rafe’s lips, his hand moving to rest on your cheek. “So? You’re always pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the way your heart beat harder in your chest, your cheeks beginning to heat. “Didn’t you have a date last night, Rafe?”

That made him chuckle. “You knew about that, huh?”

You felt embarrassed, then. You weren’t supposed to know that. The only reason you did was because Sarah had told you. You weren’t supposed to care.

“It was nothing,” he continued. “We didn’t really click. She was…boring.”

You felt guilty for the satisfaction that brought you. Rafe hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since you had gotten pregnant, and you liked it that way. You and Rafe weren’t good for each other, you broke up long ago and it should stay that way. But you can’t help how jealous you feel any time the topic of Rafe and another girl comes up, and Rafe always seems to catch an attitude with you for days every time you mention seeing a guy.

“Well I’m sorry to hear that,” you lied, highly aware of how close he was standing to you now.

His thumb rubbed over your cheek before he moved it to your lips, tracing over them, pulling down slightly on your bottom lip.

“Missed you…” he muttered, his voice low. You felt the vibrations of it through your own body.

Despite your best judgment, your mind went hazy around him. You could feel his breath against your cheek. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, like a fool.

He smirked at that, and then before you knew what was happening, he was leaning in, pressing his lips to yours. They molded together perfectly, as they always did. Rafe’s lips were soft against yours as he kissed you gently at first, almost as if he was testing the waters.

The kiss became more hungry before long, and then he was pressing his body closer to yours, one hand staying on your cheek while the other moved down to rest on your hip. He had his body pressed against yours, practically devouring you with his kiss, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip.

You let him in. Of course you did, you always do.

His tongue pressed into your mouth like it belongs to him. There’s never been anything shy about Rafe. You heard yourself moan into the kiss before you even realized it was you that made the noise, and you felt Rafe’s lips turn up into a grin as he kissed you.

His big hands trailed down your body until he bent down and they reached the backs of your thighs, then he was lifting you up, causing you to squeal and wrap your legs around his waist, giggling against his lips. He laughed too, and he began walking through the house and back towards your bedroom.

He dropped you on the bed and you looked up at him, already breathless. He wasted no time before he was crawling over you, his right hand leaning on the bed and his left sliding beneath the hem of your tank top. It slid up until he was cupping your bare breast, grabbing it and gently pinching at your nipple, drawing a moan from your lips.

He placed kisses all over your neck, gently biting every now and then, as his hand kept up its movements. “You always had the perfect fucking tits,” he groaned against your skin.

He sat up, his other hand joining in on your other breast. He yanked your tank top up to palm at your tits more, giving himself full view of them, thoroughly enjoying himself. Eventually he pulled the thin material over your head entirely, tossing it onto the floor carelessly.

Then he leaned forward again, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts. His fingertips traced along your pussy over your panties, feeling how wet the material was already. That made him groan against your tits, sending a shock of vibrations through your sensitive nipple.

“Feels like you’ve been wanting this,” he said, satisfied with the effect he still has on you.

You didn’t even bother denying that. You wanted him desperately. His every touch was like electricity, and all you wanted was to feel him inside you again.

His hand moved up to slip beneath your panties, and you gasped when you felt his fingertips teasing over your slick folds. He moved up to press his lips to yours again, kissing you passionately as he pressed a finger against your entrance.

“Rafe…” you breathed out against his lips, and he groaned at the sound of his name on your tongue. He never got tired of it.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, placing kisses around your mouth, over your cheek.

“Yes,” you promised him. You would have promised him anything in that moment, you think.

He pushed one long finger into you then, and you whined, back arching slightly. His eyes darted down to your chest at the movement, and you would have laughed at his obsession with your tits if you weren’t distracted by the feeling of his finger knuckle deep inside you.

He curled it up, pressing right up against that bundle of nerves deep inside you. You’re losing your mind from one finger - it really had been too long.

He added in another finger, stretching you further, and you felt the cold from his ring as he pushed both fingers in all the way. It sent shivers through your body. You were desperate for him to move, to just fuck you already, but he always liked to take his time with you.

After what felt like an eternity, he slowly began to pull his fingers out before pushing them back in. The pace was agonizingly slow, but he was also pushing against that perfect spot every time he thrusted his fingers all the way back inside.

“More, please,” you begged him, your eyes fluttering closed and body writhing beneath him with desperation. You began to push your hips down against his hand, begging him to move faster.

“Look at you,” he chuckled darkly, and you could hear the grin in his voice without having to open your eyes. “Fucking yourself on my fingers. You were always such a needy little slut.”

You felt yourself blushing at his dirty words, but they also only turned you on more, and you started moving your hips along the length of his fingers even faster. He groaned at the sight of you, and he began thrusting his fingers into you at a powerful pace, wanting to reward you for being good for him.

His palm pressed against your clit, rubbing against it perfectly as he kept hitting that perfect spot over and over.

You felt that familiar feeling building deep in your belly, and your thighs began trembling. Rafe noticed, picking up his movements.

“Feel good, baby? Gonna cum on my fingers?” he teased, watching your face with full interest.

“Yes,” you whined, feeling like your vision was going blurry. You felt it through every part of your body, and your pussy clenched tight around his fingers, which he couldn’t get enough of.

Your orgasm crashed through you without warning and you cried out, body arching and hips rocking against his hand even harder. Rafe worked you through it, praising you, watching you come undone on nothing but his fingers.

“Good little whore,” he praised, watching you hungrily. “You want my cock now?”

“Yes!” you answered quickly, practically yelling it. “Yes, please, Rafe.”

Satisfied with your answer, he removed his fingers from your pussy, making you whine at the empty feeling, despite the incredible orgasm you just came down from. Your eyes popped open and you made eye contact as he put his slick fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan.

He moved to his knees between your legs, pulling his own shirt over his head and tossing it away. You took in the sight of his muscular chest, toned abs, thick biceps. You felt like you were drooling over him. Your attention didn’t escape his notice, and he laughed.

His big hands slid over your smooth tanned legs, from your calves to your thighs. He squeezed them, and then he was moving even further up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and panties and pulling them down together.

When you were completely bare before him, he drank in your naked body, eyes raking over you with obvious hunger. You could see the prominent bulge in his khaki colored shorts, and you wanted so badly to reach out and touch it.

His hands moved to his belt, and he made quick work of his pants, undoing them and pushing them down his legs. He was left in his boxers, and you did reach forward then, trailing your fingers lightly over his clothed cock.

He groaned at your touch, his hips involuntarily bucking forward. He didn’t say it, but you suspected it had been a while for him, too, and the thought of that pleased you. He gripped your wrist roughly, stopping your movements but looking like he really hadn’t wanted to.

“I don’t have long today,” he said, his breathing heavy now. “Made plans. We have to be quick.”

He pushed his boxers down his thighs, revealing his cock, already painfully hard and aching, pre cum smeared at his tip. You took in the sight of it like you were starving. He was so big, it had intimidated you the first time you slept together. Hell, it intimidated you now. You wanted to take him in your mouth, but that’s not what he had in mind today.

He crawled back over you, leaning on his arms on either side of your shoulders. He leaned down to kiss you deeply, then moved to placing kisses along your jawline and down your neck, over your chest. It was nice, and you sighed at the feeling.

“You’re still on the pill, right?” he questioned as you felt his thick length pressing up against your core. You shivered at the feeling.

“Yes,” you answered. As cute as Iris was, you both could agree that you didn’t need another accidental pregnancy when you weren’t even together.

“Good,” he replied, and then he was reaching down between your bodies, lining his tip up with your entrance.

When he finally pushed inside you, you gasped at the stretch, gripping onto his biceps for leverage, which he loved. He pushed into you slowly, knowing it had been a while since you’d been together and not wanting to hurt you. When he bottomed out, he stilled, but his body was shaking like all he wanted to do was fuck into you senselessly.

You let out a shaky exhale, and he kissed you again.

“You feel so perfect, like you’re made for me,” he breathed against your lips, and you moaned at his words.

“You can move,” you told him. “I can take it.”

He groaned at that, and then he slowly pulled out until only the tip remained inside of you, and you found yourself hating the empty feeling he left behind. Then he pushed back in slowly yet powerfully with a roll of his hips, and you felt full again.

He set a gentle pace at first, rocking into you deeply but softly. He kissed you as he moved, distracting you from any potential pain, wanting to keep your focus on him and how good he makes you feel. Because no one does it like him.

“More,” you pleaded when there was no trace of pain left, and all you wanted him to do was fuck you properly. “Harder, please, Rafe.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He picked up the pace, rutting into your tight heat faster. He buried his face in your neck, groaning at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him.

Whimpers and moans fell from your own lips uncontrollably as he fucked you hard, his cock diving even deeper into you than you remembered and making you see stars. Your nails dug into his back, leaving deep red scratches that made him hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure. He loved it when you marked him up.

His sat up more on his knees and his hands grasped the bottoms of your thighs, pushing them up until they were pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe but also letting him fuck you at a new angle that was impossibly deep and overwhelming.

You let out a strangled moan at the new feeling, and Rafe grunted harshly with every brutal thrust into your pussy.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he grunted out through gritted teeth, a slight sheen of sweat on his tanned skin. “Always think about it. Always come back to it. Can’t fucking get enough of it.”

He moved one hand back to your clit, rubbing circles over it as he fucked you deep. You gasped, moaning loudly as he built up another orgasm in your body, that familiar heat spreading all over you.

“Rafe…’m so close…” you whined out, which only made him move even harder.

“Cum for me again, baby. All over my cock this time. You can do it, baby, I’m right here.” he’s breathing heavily as he speaks, his own release building rapidly.

The tension snaps, and you cum hard, thighs trembling around his body and his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. He worked you through it again, his fingers continuing to work circles over your clit until it became too much.

When you came down from your second high and were left a shaking mess beneath him, he moved both hands back to grip your thighs against your chest as he fucked into you roughly, chasing his own high that was so, so close.

“Gonna fill you up in a second, baby,” he grunts out, watching the way you look up at him, looking completely cock drunk because of him. “You want that?”

“Yes,” you managed to tell him, your body weak now. “Want you to cum in me deep.”

“Yeah?” he questioned, your words clearly doing something to him. “I bet you would like that. I bet you’d love if I put another baby in you, wouldn’t you, whore?”

All you could do was moan in response, taking everything he gave you. His pace began to falter, his hips stuttering as he took everything he wanted from you. He pushed into you as deep as he could, stilling, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck again as he groaned loudly and filled you deeply. You grasped the back of his head as he came inside you, holding him close.

He didn’t move for a minute when he was done. He stayed on you, catching his breath, as you held him back.

Eventually he pulled out of you, collapsing next to you with a big sigh. He wiped his hand across his forehead, breathing heavily. It was silent but for the sounds of the two of you catching your breath.

Finally, you spoke. “You really missed me, huh?” you teased him, looking over at his naked form on your bed.

He laughed, lifting himself up. “‘Course I did. I always do.” He stood from the bed and began to pull his clothes back on, tossing you yours as he found them. When he was dressed, you finally stood from the bed, still naked, about to head into the bathroom for a shower.

“I gotta get going,” Rafe said, pulling his shoes back on. “But I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. I have to do my exam.” You watched him as he stood, his full 6’2” form towering over you.

“I’ll text you,” he said, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your cheek. It felt intimate, and it made you blush. “Give Iris kisses for me when they get home. Let me know she gets back safe.”

“I will,” you promised him.

He gave you one last smile, and then he was gone. You heard the front door closing as you gathered up some clean clothes to change into after your shower.

When you got out of the shower, you smiled to yourself as you saw the missed text from Rafe. You opened it, and rolled your eyes as you read it, but you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face anyway.

Rafey

Miss you already.

[mari-positas]

splash

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33

Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.

She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.

“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”

He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”

But it had been too late.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”

Joel decided to put his foot down.

Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.

“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”

“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.

“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.

He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.

Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.

Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.

Like Rosie does.

Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.

“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”

Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”

“Joel—”

“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.

“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”

He’d found very little consolation in that.

Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.

“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”

“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”

Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.

“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”

“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”

She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”

Groaning, you shove through the front door.

You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.

It would take some getting used to—again.

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.

There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”

“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”

“How long is a while, El?”

“She invited me to stay for dinner.”

You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”

Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you ask Joel for permission?”

“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”

Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?” 

“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”

“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.

There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.

Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.

“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.

“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.

He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”

Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.

“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”

She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks. 

After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”

“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”

“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S’enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”

“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.

“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”

You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.

He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.

“Joel? What happened to my child?”

“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”

“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”

Rosie beams. “Yeah!”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”

“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.

“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.

Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her. 

“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”

About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply. 

“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him. 

Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”

“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”

His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”

Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.

“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”

Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”

“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”

divider credit to @/saradika 🩵

[roonotrue]

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

General Masterpost

Heartslabyul Edition, Savanaclaw Edition, Scarabia Edition, Pomefiore Edition, Ignihyde Edition, Diasomnia Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and crush, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Octavinelle Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Azul Ashengrotto - "Adore You" by Harry Styles

- Why did he stop by Ramshackle? He can't remember. It was something about taste testing the new spring menu, maybe? He's not sure it matters anymore, given how enamored he is with the sound of your voice right now.

- Is frozen in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights, he hadn't even realized it was you singing (he thought it was from your phone or something on a radio) until he turned the corner and saw you.

- When you see him, he turns all kind of shades of scarlet, embarrassed at being caught staring, but he quickly composes himself.

- Immediate compliments followed quickly by an offer to sing at the Mostro Lounge sometime- you'd be paid generously of course-

- On the outside he's acting cool, but the song in question really did fluster him quite a bit, and thoughts of you singing it again just for him keep intruding in his mind, and if you look closely you can see his ears remain a pretty shade of pink the whole conversation after.

- Does truly think you would look stunning dressed up in lavish clothes, preforming on the stage of the Mostro Lounge, are you sure you don't want to? He'll throw in a free meal plus pay!

"My, my, MC, that was a lovely performance. You should put those wonderful vocals to use, I'm sure everyone would be in awe of you at the Lounge. Some may even show up just to see you- I certainly would."

~~~

Jade Leech - "Dive" by Olivia Dean

- He's honestly quiet pleasantly surprised when he enters Ramshackle (without knocking of course) and hears your wonderful singing voice.

- A soft (dare I say genuine?) smile makes it's way to his face as he approaches the living area where you're cleaning, and stands patiently in the doorway for you to finish the song- one he's never heard before but it flows rather smoothly, much like the jazz played at the lounge.

- He finds the lyrics rather intriguing too, now what would inspire you to sing such a romantic song? A crush perhaps? The idea of you having enough of a crush on someone to sing such a song about them makes him... Well, he'll just focus on what he has right in front of him for now, and save those pesky feelings for later self-analysis.

- When you catch him he is completely shameless in his staring, as a matter of fact, his smile grows, before he gives a curious tilt of his head and motions with his hand for you to continue.

- What? Your voice was beautiful, of course he wants to hear it more. What's he doing here? Oh, well, he's come to ask if you'd like to be the first to taste test the Mostro Lounges new spring menu.

- Sure he didn't knock, but it's honestly your fault for not locking the front door- oh, the locks are broken? That can't possibly be safe. Perhaps you should stay at Octavinelle until they are fixed, that way he can hear your voice much more often.

- As a matter of fact, instead of 100 thaumarks a night for a room, he's sure he can arrange for you to sing at the Lounge every night for payment instead.

"Oh, please don't mind me, continue. Your voice is quite delightful, you should consider singing at the Lounge- though, I'm not sure I want anyone else to hear you but me..."

~~~

Floyd Leech - "Risk" by Gracie Abrams

- oHohOHo, you're never gonna live this down PT. 3

- The moment he barges into Ramshackle in a poor mood, looking for his favorite Shrimpy to cheer him up, he freezes at the sound of you're voice.

- But not for long.

- One second, you're alone, singing as you do some chores, and the next second you're being spun around in Floyd Leech's arms as he laughs cheerfully.

- He loves your voice. Keep singing! He wants to dance with you while you do! Forget those boring chores! He's here now, so you can both have fun! You're so adorable he could squeeze you till you pop!

- You should come by the lounge sometimes and sing to him to make his shifts less boring. He's sure Azul wouldn't mind- and if he does, then you two can just leave and have your own party elsewhere!

- He will, without a doubt, demand that you sing to and for him at the most random of times, hell, he might even barge into the middle of your class in a foul mood and demand a serenade from his Shrimpy.

- If you truly won't sing to him, his mood may worsen and you won't see him for awhile while he sorts himself out, whereas if you do sing for him, he will immediately start to feel better.

- The best moment he could ask for to fix his mood, is laying beside you his head in your lap, while you sing. It helps him decompress, and feel so much better from whatever was overwhelming him or souring his mood.

"Shrimpy~! Nice set of pipes! Well, don't stop singing, let's dance together! I knew you'd be doin' something fun, you always cheer me right up!"

~~~

Can you guys tell that Octavinelle is one of my favorite dorms? Particularly the twins? Especially Floyd, his unpredictability with his mood swings are very relatable as someone with severe untreated ADHD and bipolar tendencies. I just think he's neat guys. And fun to write. Anyway! Merry Christmas everyone, and I'll see you next post! ~ Roo

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Now, I never played Persona 3 but the protagonist looks breedable. So The Persona 3 protagonist (the male one) investigating an haunted/creepy site only to meet an horny male werewolf reader who fucks them 🎃

Author's Note: Makoto truly is one of the hottest persona protags (possibly even one of the hottest characters in general). Not to mention both of his English VAs did a fantastic job! I could gush over Makoto all day…so I'm just going to let the smut to the talking now 😶‍🌫️

Pairings: Makoto Yuki x male reader

Warnings: Male werewolf!reader, dom/top!reader, paranormal investigator!Makoto, adult Makoto, sub/bottom!Makoto, dubcon, finger sucking, dry orgasms, premature ejaculation(?)

This was supposed to be an easy job for once. Another "haunted" old cabin, multiple eye witnesses and videos and pictures worth of "proof", only to end up being a hoax unintentionally created by some local kids. He's been there and done that, time and time again. So, this place should not be any different, right?

Well… as luck would have it, Makoto would finally encounter something paranormal — a real experience, unlike the majority of his previous calls.

That's how Makoto ended up here; bent over a desk with the air knocked from his lungs while something wet drips all over the back of his body.

Drool drips from your snarling mouth, pooling on the back of the human's shirt, while your cock drips all over the ass of his pants and slides down the sides. You keep one clawed hand on the back of the human's head, and the other on his waist to prevent him from escaping.

The scent of iron and dirt burns Makoto's nostrils, invading every deep inhale as he's just short of hyperventilating. You're obviously not any sort of spectre, nor spirit nor ghostly being—you're really more of a beast, though your features are still quite human in nature. The man's best guess is a werewolf. Whatever you are, he's seen enough to know that he doesn't want to stick around any longer.

Attempts at wiggling free don't go so well, only building up Makoto's frustration and yours. Silly as it may sound to think a beast can understand the human language, he decides to try it anyway. “What do you- hnngh… what do you want?!” he hisses, “Are you the one…causing trouble, scaring the locals?”

You almost want to laugh at that absurd question. Causing trouble, he says. “Me? Please, ask yourself who's the real troublemaker here; the dozens of humans trashing my house and surrounding woods, or me, the guy who's lived here for decades — long before that filth migrated in.” you growl. Ignorant, ignorant humans as always.

“If anyone here is a troublemaker, it's you–” your razor-like nails dig into Makoto's side, and he winces, glaring at you with the eye not covered by his hair. “walking in here with that sexy body of yours, having the audacity to bend over and pick things up and present that fine ass for me.”

The human's heart leaps within his chest, pounding away loudly while he grips the edge of the table harder. “Your job is to help people, yeah? You wanna help these people? Then…” you lean down, covering the human's body with your heat, and whisper in his ear; “…give me the relief I need to not be so fuckin' grumpy, maybe I'll let some of their idiotic actions slide, hm?”

Truly, Makoto should protest, or try to run, literally do anything to fight this situation, but he doesn't. For some reason, he feels like…like he wants to see where this goes.

When you yank his pants down and flip up his jacket, he doesn't stop you. When you rest your heavy, leaking cock in between his cheeks and groan like a perv, he's not disgusted by it. When you let go of his head and stuff your fingers in his mouth, his tongue dances in between the spaces of your digits.

It's a surprise to you too, when the smaller human man lifts his ass up, almost inviting you—giving you permission—to fuck him. And you're not about to pass up a cute slut like this.

Makoto's knees shake when you spit on his hole, giving him at least a tiny courtesy before you break his body with your cock. Your tip pushes incessantly at his entrance, adding slippery precum to it as you swipe your cock up and down, then finally slip the head in. The human flinches, nearly causing himself to choke on your fingers, but he recovers just fine and makes no signs of protest.

Soon enough, you're moving a few inches of your length in and out, enjoying the tightness around only a third of your dick. “Sho mush…sho big…” he slurs, unable to properly enunciate with your fingers keeping his mouth occupied. Little does he realize how big your full length is. You push a little more, and the human moans again, drool spilling out from the corners of his mouth while his ass stretches to accommodate the larger girth filling it up.

“Big, yeah? You think this is big, little guy? This ain't even halfway in yet~” you taunt, keeping a tight hold on his waist. At this point, you're confident that he can take plenty more without breaking yet, so you go a little harder until half of your dick is pumping in and out. “Mmm feel that? Now that is halfway in. Feels even better, right?”

“aAahAAAHhhNn–!! gHNH-!” Makoto spasms on the table, whining something unintelligible while his body twitches. Slightly concerned, you ask him what the hell that was all about, but he doesn't answer you. Frustrated, you remove your fingers from his mouth and yank his body up by his hair, forcing him to stand while you inspect the situation.

It only takes a second for you to notice the puddle of translucent white fluid dripping from the edge of the wooden table and onto the ground, with a matching fluid dribbling from Makoto's flushed dick.

“Goddamn– cummin' before me…I haven't even fucked you yet, little guy. Is it that good for you?” you laugh, pulling the human's head back so far that he's forced to look up at you, meeting your gaze with pink cheeks and cloudy eyes.

With a newfound confidence, and a newfound horniness, you decide that your little slut is more than ready to take it all in. Makoto makes a little noise at first, but when you bottom out and, finally, begin thrusting with intent, those noises turn into happy little moans and whimpers. The fucked out look on his face is proof enough that your fat cock is hitting the right places—filling his tummy with butterflies with every long drag against his walls.

Makoto holds onto your arms for dear life, taking your length like the good boy he is, while you rail him with enough force to knock him over, if you weren't holding his smaller body. “Ah-ah-ah-yes-yes-yes-!!” he stutters, smiling like he's on cloud nine. “Ah! Hard-er! Harderharderharder~!!”

When you blow your first load in him, the tightness of Makoto's ass and the strong scent of his hormones are enough to make your eyes roll back. Your hips slam into him a few times to empty all of your cum in there, and each time only brings the human that much closer to a complete mindbreak.

“Ooohhfuck… haah~ That was fuckin' good er- damn, I never got your name, did I?” The human shakes his head 'no', panting as his dick stays stiff as a board, red from cumming a second time.

He mutters something under his breath, but you can't quite make it out. You ask him to repeat it and he replies, “it'sss…Makoto…” in a sleepy, worn out tone.

“Well, Makoto, you think you're up for more?” you're asking, but not really asking…because you're going to fuck him again regardless. After all, all of these dumbass locals keep you stressed out every damn day — at this point, a full 24 hours of sex probably wouldn't be enough, much less one tiny orgasm.

Makoto lazily nods along, grinning up at you while you scratch his scalp affectionately. He has zero time to react as you begin thrusting again, ready to pound his hole until it's permanently molded to your shape.

His ass tightens around you again, and a third round of cum shoots out of his dick as it slaps against his warm body. His dick seems to stay hard even after that, turning redder by the minute, all while you ensure that his ass will be left gaping and oozing with your seed long after you're satisfied.

By the time you fill him up again, Makoto has orgasmed five times before, and his sixth nearly causes his voice to crack as his whole body convulses in your arms — his twitching cock shoots nothing this time, and the human is left with only dry orgasms for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, you have no intentions of stopping yet, even if it means your new human will fall unconscious—he'll still be your fuck doll while he rests.

[whrfchnn]

୨⎯ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐰-𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ⛧

Pairing : Bangchan x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings : 18+ !! CNC, videotaping, somnophilia, established relationship, reader is under a consented medical induced sleep, daddy kink, using readers hand to jerk off, praise, name calling (princess to whore), breeding kink, not proofread, uhh lmk if I missed anything.

Mona’s notes : In honor of my man’s birthday and my blog turning one year old today, here’s a fic I put together last minute. Please heed my warnings, this fic may be dark and sensitive to some, I have two other birthday fics for Chan that I’ll post later but just an fyi, one of them is dark and the other is just fluff! I hope you enjoyed this fic, reblogs are appreciated <3

He couldn’t sleep, he was counting down the seconds until the clock on the nightstand hit 12am. Bangchan knew as soon as it did, you were his. Your body was his to play with for the day. It was his birthday after all, and you generously gave him the go to do whatever he wanted. This has been a tradition between you two for the past 3 years, not just on his birthday, but yours too.

Every year on your respective birthdays, for 24 hours, the celebrated individual was allowed to have their way with the other. Where ever, when ever, and how ever. And the other couldn’t say no. Chan, the cheeky bastard that he was, loves to videotape these activities so he can look back on them and plan for next year’s to be just as good if not better.

You were under a sleep induced medication so there was no way you’d wake up to his hands stroking your clit, or his dick smearing his cum onto your lips.

So as soon as the clock illuminated the bright red 12am, his hands were on you.

He took his time, he had 24 hours after all, his hand glided over your stomach, gripping your bundles of joy with love and devotion. His sweet pouty lips were laying wet desperate kisses behind your ear, whispering sweet nothings that flew past your unconscious self but were picked up by the camera at the foot of the bed.

The thin silk nightgown you were wearing complimented the dips in your body, with nothing underneath, Chan's hips desperately rubbed against your ass, some of his precum smearing onto your lower back. Another perk that came with sleeping naked.

His hands went from your stomach down to cup your cunt, even in your sleep you were wet. The sweet sounds from your pussy only got louder the longer he played with you, his finger doing tight circles on your clit, dragging his hand lower to your opening, slipping his middle and ring finger in just a bit to hear that sweet squelch before going back to your clit and repeating this action again. “So wet and perfect for me aren’t ya pretty girl”

He put the same two fingers he used to play with you into his mouth, tasting your delicious essence that only made his dick throb harder, “And so fucking tasty, all for daddy right? Yeah, it’s all for me”

Chan took hold of your wrist, and positioned your hands to wrap around his dick, he tightened your grip on him and mimicked your movements as if you were giving him a handjob. His hips lifted off the bed in a desperate thrust each time you reached his sensitive tip. He has a high stamina but the build up to this special day was enough to have made him cum just a few strokes in. His warm cum oozed down to your hand, basically lathering them like lotion.

Chan laid your cum lathered hand on the bed and sat up on his knees near your head, his dick was still rock hard with his warm cum drilling from his tip which he put to use. He held your head in one hand while the other guided his dick to smear his cum on your lips as if it were lipgloss. “You’ll be tasting me for days princess”

He could just smell your arousal from up there so he positioned himself to lay flat between your legs, maneuvering your thick thighs around his shoulders so your legs were lying limp on his back.

Your breathing was heavy but still deep asleep, Chan internally praised those pills, you were like a doll he could play with right now, no complaints or sounds.

He was right, your pussy was glistening with arousal, he used his nose to nudge one of your lips apart, he could feel your warmth. Your clit throbbing to be touched and worshiped. Chan licked a big slow stripe from your hole all the way to your clit, swearing and moaning your name as he finally got to taste you.

His head followed with the movements of his tongue, eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt you throb against his mouth. His hips rutted the bed, cock still a bit sensitive from his previous orgasm. Chan’s hands were wrapped around your thigh in a way so he could easily reach down to your pussy to pull your lips apart and get even more access to your clit.

The man became cross eyed as you got nearer to your orgasm, his gaze going from your pussy to your chest that was rising and falling faster, he could feel your muscles tense and just as he expected, his mouth was soon filled with your cum, his own orgasm came a second later, his cum getting on his stomach and the bed.

“That’s my good girl yea, good job doll,” Chan’s veiny hands were full of your stomach, squeezing you along with his praises. His body shifted upwards, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips as he positioned his dick at your opening “can you give me one more? Of course you can, you’re just a doll made for me to play with aren’t you? My little whore”

Chan juiced up his dick with your wetness, and teased you by holding your pussy lips together to squeeze your clit and grind his dick over it repeatedly. You were dripping with remaining cum down to your ass and the bedsheets, slick lewd sounds filling the room along with chans soft groans.

Without using his hands, he lifted his hips closer, his tip nudging itself inside your pussy slowly and he watched as your pussy stretched to welcome him, your warm walls so tight it was basically suffocating him and he wanted more. He bottomed out, your lower bodies pressed against each other as his head was tilted back in bliss.

He pulls out slowly, only leaving the head of his dick inside before pushing himself back in. Chan picked up the pace gradually, mesmerized at the sight of your soft stomach and boobs jiggling with every thrust he delivers.

If you were to be watching through the camera, you’d see his tensed muscular back, his hands feeling up on your thighs and hips. If you were to look lower, you’d see and hear his balls roughly smacking against your ass, cum from earlier stretching thin from your body and his with each thrust.

“Fuhckk baby..your pussy feels so good” chan was on the verge of crying, he let your legs go and leaned into you to intertwine your hands, his forehead on yours.

“ ‘m gonna fuck my babies into you, nice and full hmm? Would you like that? Yea you would”

He positioned one knee higher beside you to get even deeper inside of you, he could feel the bulge in your stomach each time he thrusted and it drove him crazy but he wanted you to cum first. He reached down with one hand to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in tight circles.

Chan smiled lazily into your cheek as he felt the tell tale signs of your orgasm approaching. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t let a tear escape his eyes as he felt you cum, even in your sleep you were amazing.

He fucked your through your orgasm, and followed quickly after you, his balls tightened as his thrusts became rigged. He didn’t pull out, a part of him wanted to go through with his promise of breeding you and getting you pregnant but he knew you’d kill him if he did it without you conscious.

The squelching sound that came from your pussy when he pulled out sent goosebumps over his body, he watched as his cum flowed out of you, down your ass and onto the sheets.

“One day I’ll make sure none of it will be wasted princess”

He kissed all over your face and cleaned you up, wiping away the dried cum from your lips and body. He was excited to see your reaction to the tape later on and film even more. After all, it’s his birthday and he had 24 hours to do whatever he wanted with you, wherever, and whenever.

Copyright © 2023 ta3baee ! All fanfics belong to me and only me, I don’t give permission for my work to be translated, published to another site, or copied.

[athenamikaelson]

Written in the Stars

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 1

Word Count- 4.3k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, death, panic attacks, mentions of the confederacy (ew)

A/N- This will be a slow-burn series.

The reader has a brother, I know it’s not very X Reader, but it’s to help the storyline.

I brush down the black tie my younger brother is wearing, the satin fabric making me slightly cringe. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to go? We can go show those stuffy old bitches how to really party.”

I let out a small huff at Theo’s question, shaking my head amused.

“I’d rather not spend my Friday night with a bunch of Mystic Falls’ elite. Hearing them talk about how they’re so proud of their southern heritage,” Both my brother and I let out sounds of disgust, “the Confederates lost get over it.”

Theo stands in front of the hallway mirror and oggles himself. Where I am rather introverted, my younger brother is most likely the most self-confident person I have ever met. He has called himself, “A gift to the human race,” on more than one occasion. So it takes him about a good 9 minutes to gaze at himself in the mirror before we walk out the front door to the car. 

We drive in silence, or I drive in silence as Theo hypes himself up in the passenger side mirror. 

After a 10-minute drive that seems to have taken at least twice that time, we finally reach the long driveway of the mayor’s house. 

“Why are you even going to this masquerade thing anyways, you hate dances,” I ask him as we wait behind a line of cars.

“Tyler is my football captain, and this thing is to honor his father, I’m here for my fellow man,” Theo presses a fist to his chest and puts on a fake sympathetic look.

“So you’re actually doing it because you want to get on Tyler’s good side so he puts you on Varsity?”

Theo’s look drops and is replaced with a shit-eating grin, “You know me so well.”

As we get to the front of the line of cars, I hum along to the Coldplay song playing on the radio.

“So what are you going to do while waiting for me?”

I pull my car up to the front of the “house” which is really just a mansion. 

“I have a feeling you won’t be here very long, or stay out of trouble so I’m just going to park somewhere and wait for you.”

My brother gives me a look that looks like he agrees about him getting into trouble and nods his head. I put the car in park and Theo unbuckles his seat and gets out, straightening out his suit as he goes.

“Bye nerd, don’t wait up!” Theo yells as he climbs the stairs walking past Mystic Falls’ elite. I let out a sigh and pull away to find a parking spot. 

—

My fingers graze the pages of my book as I glance at the time, Theo has been here for over an hour now and hasn’t shown any signs of leaving. I bring my book up to continue reading when a figure in the distance catches my eye. I lean forward and catch a glimpse of who I believe to be, Elena Gilbert. Elena’s a popular girl in my grade, who I’ve probably had two interactions with in my short time here in Mystic Falls. I don’t know much about her other than that she’s dating some guy named Stefan, her parents died in a car accident and her brother is in the same grade as Theo. Theo and Elena’s brother don’t hang out either because Theo says he’s a “stoner emo.” Theo’s never been one to keep his thoughts to himself. 

Elena seems to walk with a slight limp which makes me slightly concerned but nothing to make me go out and try to talk to her. I hate talking to people in general, especially kids my age. Elena has always seemed nice but I’m not taking the risk of rejection.

 Or at least I wasn’t until I saw a man in a mask start following behind her.

I may hate interacting with people but I would never let another girl get attacked if I had the power to stop it. The next thing I know I’m hopping out of my car and jogging behind them. 

“Elena behind you!” I yell to her, but I freeze as the man hits her and knocks her to the ground. I let out a yelp as I turned to try to get help but a sharp pain hits my skull and everything goes black. 

—-

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

A voice comes from above me and a wave of nausea washes over me. My eyes open and close a dozen times trying to get used to the bright light before I can focus on the person in front of me. Elena Gilbert. Why is Elena Gilbert in my bedroom?  I mean she’s really pretty and all I just thought she had a boyfriend. I’m not a homewrecker. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake!”

Elena whisper-yells to me as she brushes a piece of my hair behind my head and grimaces when she looks at my forehead. She brings her hand back and a wave of fear and disgust washes over me as I see her hand covered in a red liquid. Blood. My blood. I try to bring my hand up but Elena stops me.

“Don’t exert yourself we don’t want it to bleed more, okay?”

She gives me a small smile but something about it makes me feel uneasy. I don’t understand why until I turn my gaze away from her and look at our surroundings. Dirt-covered walls, glass-covered floors, and a mildew stench are what take focus. I’ve always been sensitive to smells but with the addition of my raging migraine, I am fighting the urge to keep down the rising bile in my throat. 

My breathing starts to quicken and I can feel the start of a panic attack starting to make an appearance. 

“Elena, where are we?”

I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t understand what I was saying since my words seemed to be jumbling together. 

Elena glances around us and gives me a solemn look.

“I don’t know, I woke up here a little while ago before I was knocked back out by the people that took us. I’m truly sorry about this Y/N. I would never wish for you to be a part of this.”

I furrow my eyebrows at her last comment as if she were responsible for the reason we were taken.

“It’s not your fault,” I shake my head and start tapping my fingers together one by one, a habit I’ve picked up to ground myself whenever my anxiety gets too strong.

Elena’s eyebrows mirror mine and she goes to say something but a young man with shaggy hair walks in.

“Oh goody, the other ones awake. How are you doing, sleeping beauty?” 

The man starts to walk over to me with a look in his eyes that makes the bile in my throat inch even closer to the surface. But within another second Elena stands from beside me, on what I can see now is a couch, and blocks me from the man’s view.

“I’m the one you want, Y/N is innocent, just let her go.” 

I want to back Elena up and defend her too but with the migraine and the onslaught of emotions I’m feeling right now, being verbal isn’t something I see happening in my current future. 

“You’re right, Dopalicious, she’s not, but I can’t just let her go, what if she were to go and warn those friends of yours? Can’t let that happen now can we?” 

Elena goes to stand her ground but within a blink of an eye she’s shoved backward and lands on the other side of the couch. I flinch at the action which gives the man the opportunity to come in front of me. I start trembling as I look up to him. I try to push farther back into the couch but I’m squished into it as far as I can go. 

“Stay away from me,” Finally able to find somewhat of my voice again. This doesn’t seem to scare away the man, and honestly, I don’t blame him. My voice sounded like it came from a scared 5-year-old. 

“Just a taste, I’m starving.”

My mouth opens to question what he says but a millisecond later I feel myself being grabbed and a sharp piercing attacks the left side of my neck. I’m hyperventilating and screaming at the same time somehow as I hear Elena’s yells from beside us. 

“Don’t touch her!”

Elena’s yell comes from beside us and I’m thrown away back onto the couch. I’m disorientated as I look up to see the man before me rubbing his cheek and Elena standing next to him holding her right hand. She’d punched him. My vision strays from Elena’s red knuckles back up to the man, who has something dripping from his mouth. My chest feels like it locks up as I stare at the liquid dripping, everything seems to be going in slow motion for me as I watch the drops start at the man's chapped lips to the drops of blood falling onto the cracked hardwood floors. Wait, blood. He has blood dripping from his mouth. Had Elena punched him that hard? I start to believe that possibility until I feel a wetness drip between my chest. 

My already shaking hand moves to my chest as I swipe a finger along the liquid. My vision blurs as the red liquid drips from my fingertip down into the palm of my hand. I can’t register Elena’s voice as she kneels in front of me and presses something to my neck. The blood coating my hand is all I can see and smell. 

“Y/N….Y/N! Just focus on my voice ok, breathe. I think you’re having a panic attack.”

A cool hand is pressed onto the side of my face and I close my eyes at the embrace. 

“Ok that’s good, I’m going to stand you up to get a better look at your neck ok?” 

I feel like I’m running on auto-pilot or something else is controlling my body and mind as I stand up and grip Elena’s upper arms to keep myself steady. Elena returns the pink fabric from my neck and leans down to glance at the wound.

“Ok, it’s not as bad as I had originally thought. Just keep this here and it’ll help control the bleeding.” 

I must still be in shock because Elena has to bring the shirt to my hand, wrap my fingers around it, and finally press my hand into my neck. The shock of pain washes through me and brings me back to reality. My vision can’t seem to focus on one thing for too long as my eyes keep darting from the blood on the floor, my blood, to the look on Elena’s face, to the man standing behind us with a scowl on his ugly face. Blood, Elena, man. Blood, Elena, man. Blood, Elena, man. This sequence continues until another person enters the room, a woman.

“He’s here.”

The woman with a pixie cut says, her voice seemingly scared.

The man next to us shifts his scowl into a look of pure fear.

“This was a mistake,” He rushes over to the woman and shakes his head. 

“No, I told you I would get us out of this. You have to trust me,” She tries to talk him down which only seems to freak him out more.

“No! He wants me dead Rose,”

The woman points at Elena, “He wants her more.”

I glance to Elena who is standing in front of me slightly as if to hide me from the two strangers or cannibals. Since I’ve calmed down momentarily and I’ve begun to stop the tears, that unbeknownst to me, had fallen on my cheeks. I’ve also realized that I’ve been kidnapped by cannibals, that being the only reasonable explanation I can come up with.

The two cannibals start arguing about some man but I turn to Elena who looks almost as scared as I feel. 

“What’s going on Elena, who’s coming,” I whisper to her.

Elena turns her head slightly to me and gives me a frown and a shake of her head. 

“A man named Elijah, but don’t worry ok,” Elena grabs my free hand and holds it in her own, “I’m not going to let them hurt you anymore.”

I nod trying to find comfort in her words but the girl in front of me is 17 years old and maybe 110 pounds I don’t see how she’s going to protect us both from two cannibals and whatever mega cannibal these two are terrified of. I don’t know if the other guy is a cannibal but using context clues I’m guessing he is. 

“What are we?”

The woman’s voice brings my attention back to them as I see her grab his arms. This seems to calm the man down. 

“We’re family. Forever.” 

I might’ve found this endearing if it weren’t for the fact the man had my blood drying on his upper lip and they were literal cannibals. 

A loud knock startles all four of us. Elena and I both shoot each other wary glances, our hands still intertwined. I don’t usually like being touched but given the circumstances I can let this slide. 

The woman looks over at Elena and me as Elena slightly turns her head, “You’re scared.”

The woman says something else to her friend and then runs up the stairs.

—

What seems like forever of waiting and pacing around is broken up by footsteps coming from the top of the banister. I can feel Elena freeze up from beside me as we both look up to see a man in a suit staring down at her. The man has dark hair and eyes and a chiseled face.

Why is this cannibal not ugly? Wrong Turn had it all wrong.

We all stand there watching Elena and the suited cannibal stare at each other. I can feel Elena’s shaking hand in my own and try to comfort her by squeezing her hand to let her know I’m right beside her. That is until the man transports himself from the top of the banister to right in front of Elena in the blink of an eye. The movement makes me lose my balance and I fall back onto the couch. 

No one seems to notice me as my panic attack starts to build up as I try to understand how this is possible. How could he have been that fast, it’s impossible.

Oh god, I'm going to throw up. 

“And who is this?”

A deep voice comes from above me and my stomach flips at the sound.

Definitely going to throw up. 

“She’s no one. She has nothing to do with this, just please leave her alone.” 

Hearing Elena’s voice makes me raise my head and I regret it instantly because I lock eyes with the suited monster, who is now standing above me staring down at me. The man’s face instantly goes slack as his eyes meet mine, a look of recognition seems to pass through his dark eyes as they move fast across my face. The man’s mouth opens and closes many times as if he can’t quite find the right words to say. The slack expression from before softens into something that makes my stomach flip again. This guy is so going to kill me when I throw up on his expensive ass shoes. His soft, dark pink lips curve up at the corners slightly.

“You’re real.” 

Everyone else in the room seems to know just as much as me with what he’s talking about because they all have looks of confusion on their faces. Feels somewhat comforting to be on the same page as everyone else for once. 

The man doesn’t once take his eyes off of me this entire time, “What is your name, Elskan?” 

I freeze under his stare and try to avert my eyes, this gives Elena the ability to step in for me. 

“Her name is Y/N,” I look to the man as he mouths my name slightly to himself as if he wants to know how it sounds on his tongue, “Please don’t hurt her Elijah, she doesn’t even know about the supernatural, I’ll go with you willingly.” 

Elena’s words make me freeze up. What does she mean by supernatural?

I flinch as the man, Elijah, brings his hand up. This stops him for a moment. 

“I would never harm you. You have my word on that.”

I can only sit there frozen as he cups my face with his hand and uses his thumb to brush a stray tear away that must’ve fallen during one of my many panic attacks. He seems delighted at the moment until the soft expression he has on his face darkens into something that makes that bile rise even farther up. His eyes dart from the top of my head and drag themselves down to my chest and neck. I try to move away but his hand has a soft but firm hold on my face. 

“Who did this to you?” 

My eyebrows furrow at his question, and I must’ve not answered quickly enough because he turns to glare at Elena, making her flinch.

“The head injury is from the kidnapping and then the bite is from… um,” she glances towards my neck and then to Trevor who looks like he’s about to internally combust. She goes silent again at Elijah’s stare and he turns his attention back towards me. The glare long gone and replaced once again with a softer look.

“I see. Here,” I have to swallow back down the bile as I watch the man rip into his wrist and put it in front of my face expectantly. I sit there in horror and quickly look to Elena, who doesn’t look as nearly surprised as she definitely should be, given that this man just BIT HIMSELF. 

“It’s true Y/N, it’ll heal you.” 

I open my mouth to say something which must’ve somehow been an ok to the man as he presses his wrist to my open mouth. I’m about to push him off, or at least try, but stop at the heavenly liquid that spills into my mouth. Elijah brings his other hand up to brush back my fallen hair.

  “Good girl, Elskan.” 

Elijah removes his wrist and I sit there silently staring at my lap as I realize what I had just done. I just drank fucking blood, and I liked it?!??! Oh god, does this make me a cannibal now?

Elijah seems to be fighting an inner battle as he moves his eyes away from mine and onto the man behind us. Elena and I watch before us as Elijah approaches the scared man/cannibal thing.

“I’ve waited so long for this day, Elijah. Truly very sorry,” Trevor says with a bowed head as Elijah circles him. Almost how a predator circles its prey. 

“Well, no, your apology is not necessary,” Elijah responds but something in his tone doesn’t sit right with me.

“Yes, yes it is. You trusted me with Katerina. And I failed you.”

“Well, yes, you are the guilty one,” Elijah glances at him and then up to the woman, “And Rose aided you because she was loyal to you. That I honor…”

Elijah comes to stand in front of the man, “Where was your loyalty?”

“I beg your forgiveness.”

The oxygen in the room seems to be dwindling as everyone watches the interaction.

“So granted.” 

The deep breath I was to let out is replaced by a scream and I can only watch in horror as Elijah throws his hand over to the man, decapitating him. A heart-wrenching wail comes from Rose and I can’t seem to take my eyes away from the body-less head that is lying in front of me. 

“I’m going to-”

Vomit spurts from my mouth and onto the floor in front of me. Burning from the back of my throat causes tears to build up and block my vision. I feel someone lift my hair and hold it away from my face. I thought it was Elena, until Elijah’s voice sounds from beside me.

“I’m truly sorry, Elskan. I shouldn’t have done that in front of you.” 

I lift my head to stare at him and find him kneeling right next to me. He reaches into his front pocket grabs, a fancy napkin, and wipes my mouth with it. Not seeming disgusted, just disheartened. He wraps his hand in mine and stands me up. 

“We can leave now, we have quite the journey ahead of us,” Elijah leads me over to where Elena is standing and motions for her to follow.

“No! What about the moonstone,” She questions him.

He stands in front of her with a small scowl, “What do you know about the moonstone?”

“I know that you need it. And I know where it is. I can help you get it”

Elijah nods his head, “Tell me where it is.” 

“It doesn’t work that way.”

Elijah’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance as he glances back at Rose, “Are you negotiating with me?”

Rose just shakes her head and tells him she doesn’t know anything. Elijah then turns back around to stare at Elena for a moment before scowling and reaching up to her necklace, then rips it off. 

“What is this vervain doing around your neck,” He throws the necklace behind him and grabs Elena by the neck, dropping my hand in the process. I go to try to get her away but Elijah shoots me a warning look that has me freezing in place, “Tell me where the moonstone is.”

In a monotone voice, Elena replies, “In the tomb underneath the church ruins.”

“What is it doing there?”

“It’s with Kathrine.”

The rest of their interaction is cut short when a glass shatters from somewhere upstairs. Elijah comes over to me and grabs me by my waist bringing me into him almost protectively. 

“What was that,” He asks Rose.

“I don’t know.”

“Who else is in this house?’’

To which he gets the same response. 

Elijah grabs Elena quite harshly with his free hand and guides both of us to the top of the banister. His hand never moving from the top of my hip. Once we make it to the entryway something rushes by us, Elijah pushes Elena off into Rose’s arms but still keeps his hold on me. 

“Up here.”

“Down Here.”

Voices call from the top and bottom of the stairs catching all of our attention. Elijah lifts his hand from my hip and motions for me to go over to Rose.

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” He warns her as he moves to the staircase. 

A moment goes by before something flies through the air and pierces itself through Elijah’s hand. I let out a yelp but Elijah doesn’t even seem fazed. 

My vision is blurred for a moment, when it clears, I realize I’m now standing next to Rose with an unfamiliar dark-haired man in front of us. He motions with his finger to be quiet. Ya as if I was going to say anything anyway. 

“Excuse me,” Elijah’s voice comes from below, “To whom it may concern. You’re making a grave mistake if you think that you can beat me. And you can’t. You hear that? I repeat, you cannot beat me. So I want the girls on the count of three, or heads will roll.” 

The man who has his hands on Rose’s and I’s mouths moves his head to glance at Elijah downstairs. 

“Do we understand each other?” 

“I’ll come with you,” I perk up at Elena’s voice. What the hell is she doing?!? But the blue-eyed man in front of me shakes his head at me telling me not to move. 

“Just please don’t hurt my friends. They just wanted to help me out.”

“What game are you playing with me? Where is Y/N? I won’t be leaving without her.”

Elijah’s skeptical voice questions her. There’s a sound of metal, and then a loud boom, and then I hear Elijah let out a yell. The sound for some reason makes my chest feel like it wants to cave in on itself. Rustling and fighting sounds come from below us before the man holding Rose and I leaves. Rose runs after him, but I can’t seem to get my feet to work so I just sit there on the dusty floor staring at the peeling wallpaper in front of me. 

A few moments pass before I hear Elena’s voice along with two unfamiliar men, one who I’m assuming is the blue-eyed guy from before. 

“Where is Y/N,” Elena asks.

“Are you talking about that girl that smells like vomit?” A snarky voice questions her. If I hadn’t just gotten kidnapped and had one of the worst days of my life, I might’ve taken offense, but I did just get kidnapped and honestly, I do smell like vomit so he’s not wrong. 

“I think she’s over there.” 

Footsteps get closer to me as I look up with tears in my eyes at Elena. She gives me a small smile before kneeling and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. 

“What is happening Elena?” 

“I’ll explain everything if you want me to ok? Let’s just get out of here first ok?”

Elena stands up and reaches down her hand for me to take, and with a deep breath, I do.

[the-pixelated-pirate]

General relationship hcs for Goro Majima and/or Guzma ?? :) could be either one or both in seperate posts, I don't mind ^^

(Also, maybe a mix of sfw & nsfw ? If possible <3)

Decided to choose Guzma for this post, be on the look out for Majima's post on my acct! (Posting at the same time)

Romantic Guzma HCs ♡

NOTES/WARNINGS: NSFW under the cut, gender neutral reader w AFAB anatomy,

REQUEST STATUS: Open!

REQUESTS LEFT: 2!

• Despite his tough guy attitude, Guzma is secretly a big ole softie. He doesn't like anyone except you seeing that side of him. He's a sucker for bear hugs, and suffocation in his chest + broken ribs can be a possibility w him

• Secret romantic at heart, but his sense of romanticism is a little different from the norm

•

• Loooves back massages. He may complain if you ask for one, but he'll do it for you ofc. Everytime you touch his back it sounds like bang-snaps

• Post game(s) he takes up gardening, Plumeria said it would help with his anger issues. She was kind of right? The flowers bring bug types to his house so he isn't complaining

• Speaking of, while Whimpod/Golisopod is his buddy, he's got a soft spot for Grubin and Cutiefly. His first experience with Snom was almost biblical

• Suffers from insomnia, lots of late nights, lots of warm milk. He'd really appreciate it if you decided to stay up with him, even if he acts otherwise <3 he wants you to get your full 8 hours

• Very rarely talks about his feelings, but when he does it's a sure fire sign that he trusts you completely. He works better as a shoulder to lean on, tbh. He isn't good with his words, but he's a good ear to vent to. He'll suggest if you wanna go out and throw rocks at old buildings or something

• Prefers sweet malasadas

• Totaaalll family man. The grunts and Plumeria are all like family to him, and he does his best to take care of them (plus you). He loves kids, always has candy in his pockets, and really just acts like the fun uncle. If a child asks he WILL throw hands with them. Wether or not he'll take it easy on them is another question

NSFW

• Speaking of kids 👀👀

• Yes he'll definitely prefer to have a few. Or if you're unable to have kids or just plain don't want them, he understands. He plain just enjoys the motions of it.

• High-key a switch, and loves to bottom. But he's sooo fucking bratty, and the biggest pillow prince

• Praise, giving or receiving. He laps that stuff up, and when he's spitting praises there's a lot of cursing thrown in there.

• He can top too... he can be a mix of a mean dom or a soft one, depends on his mood.

• He loves soft sex, though. Getting to curl up around you, hold you close, whispering about how hot you are.... ♡

• Very vocal, on top or bottom. Like I mentioned, very bratty when he's got his legs in the air, but when it's you his plowing into, he's swearing like a sailor, buttering you up talking about how much he just loooves you

• Craazy head game, loves giving.

• Pain play is a toss up, he isn't too hardcore, but he'll slap you or throw you around. Like I'll give it to my man he is a little kinky but he prefers to keep the pain out of it, for the most part.

• Lovess being on the receiving end of aftercare, not the best at giving it. He'd prefer for you to just snuggle up into his arm so you can both fall asleep. Sex really helps him conk out so he enjoys finishing every night with a little woo-hoo >:3

• Fuck it. I'm throwing away my morals. He's packing. I know it. Big dick energy. You see him slouching? You know why

[muiitoloko]

hey, will you write a fic themed around a woman suffering a emotionally or perhaps verbally abusive relationship with her parents, she has too much respect and clings to the good to ever cut them off, but when she settles down with Frank, her parents are mean about it but only to her, he doesn't know, so he comes home from work mad, they get into a fight, he yells at her, and she just retreats. she doesn't cry because she knows better than to make it worse, but Frank eventually gets her to open up, because all along hes noticed the snarky remarks or her coming home from visiting them and being in bed for two days. I would totally appreciate this as it hits home quite closely, I just need some comfort from my favorite Lieutenant General.

P.S. some smut may be nice, I do believe I am ovulating 😭

Title: Daddy’s Got You

Summary: Old pain resurfaces, new tenderness blooms. Frank offers more than comfort—he gives you the safety you’ve never had.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Angst

Also read on Ao3

It had been one of those long, grey afternoons where the light from the windows looked tired and the walls of the house seemed to press in a little more than usual. You’d lost track of time, not because of laziness or neglect, but because your energy had been sapped by a call from your mother earlier in the day.

She hadn’t said anything overtly cruel—she never did, not when anyone else could hear—but it was the tone, the subtle digs, the way she could make your accomplishments sound like inconveniences, your happiness like a delusion. You’d spent the rest of the day curled up on the bed, silent, thinking maybe, just maybe, if you stayed very still, it would all pass.

Frank came home late.

You heard the door open and close, keys dropping in the dish near the entryway, the familiar sound of his boots against the floor. He was always precise, even in the quiet rhythms of domestic life. But tonight, something was off. His footsteps were heavier, sharper. The baritone of his voice when he called your name from the kitchen had a bite to it.

You didn’t answer right away. You’d been in the bedroom, halfway between getting up and giving in to the ache in your chest. By the time you joined him, his coat was still on, and he stood stiff by the fridge, eyes scanning the counter like he expected dinner to have magically appeared.

“You didn’t cook?” he asked, voice low but edged.

You blinked, mouth opening slightly. “No, I… I didn’t have the energy today. I forgot.”

Frank exhaled sharply, the sound more tired than angry, but when he turned, the tension in his face was clear. “You forgot? Jesus Christ.”

You froze.

His voice wasn’t raised exactly—but louder than you’d ever heard it. Sharper. And when you tried to explain, something in you hesitated. That same old instinct. You never defended yourself well. Not to your parents. Not now.

“Just once,” Frank snapped, “could you maybe think ahead? I’ve been on my feet for thirteen hours, I haven’t eaten since six this morning, and I come home to this?”

You flinched.

It wasn’t the volume. It wasn’t even the words. It was the tone. The tone that mirrored your father’s. That familiar, hollow ring of disappointment. And something inside you recoiled, not with defiance, but with the quiet ache of an old wound reopened.

You opened your mouth, trying to explain—not to defend, just to give him context, to tell him about the call, about how the day had drained you dry in that quiet, invisible way only your mother could manage. But the moment you started to speak, Frank raised a hand—sharp, dismissive—and his baritone cut through the room with unexpected force.

“No,” he snapped. “No excuses tonight. I had a shitty day. A long, bloody miserable day. I dealt with back-to-back meetings, a broken comms system, and a fucking briefing that went in circles for three hours because no one can give a straight answer anymore. And the one thing I wanted—just one thing—was to come home and have something hot to eat.”

He took a step toward you, not threatening, but large and solid and tired. “But what do I find?” he continued, hazel eyes flashing. “Not even a takeaway box. You didn’t even bother to order anything. You were ‘out of energy’? Christ.”

You shrank back before you even realized it, your spine retreating an inch, your mouth gone dry. You hated how natural it felt—how easy it was to collapse inward when someone’s voice hit that particular register. How instinctively your brain whispered: don’t push, don’t argue, don’t make it worse.

“I’m—” you tried, but your voice barely left your throat. “Frank, I’m sorry, I—”

But he was already turning, already walking away, muttering under his breath, “Unbelievable,” as he pulled open a cabinet with more force than necessary. “Absolutely fucking unbelievable.”

You stood there, frozen in the center of the kitchen, the cold air from the open fridge brushing your arms, your chest tight. You didn’t say anything else. You didn’t know how to say anything else.

Instead, you moved silently toward the stairs, your steps slow, careful. Each one felt heavier than the last. You didn’t look back. You knew the look on his face. Knew what came next if you pushed.

Upstairs, the bedroom felt too big. The silence too deep. You crawled into bed still dressed, curling up on your side without bothering to turn on the light. The darkness was easier. Quieter.

You pressed your face into the pillow, willing yourself not to cry. You knew it would make it worse, not with Frank maybe, but with yourself. With the voice in your head that still spoke with your mother’s cadence, the one that always said you were being dramatic, selfish, impossible to love when you weren’t smiling.

It wasn’t always like this. There had been good moments. Birthdays when she surprised you with books you actually liked. Mornings when your father cooked too many eggs and called it love. They weren’t monsters. Not all the time. That was the hardest part. You’d learned to cling to the scraps—to the seconds of kindness like they were proof that it hadn’t all been cruel.

But now—tonight—you felt small again. Like that kid who used to tiptoe around dinner tables, who flinched when the sarcasm cut too deep, who laughed when it hurt just to make sure no one noticed the bruise under the words.

The pillow was warm against your cheek. Too warm. You turned it over and stared into the dark, breathing through the ache.

You didn’t know how long you lay there, but you didn’t move. You didn’t speak.

And you didn’t cry. Not yet.

You just waited. Like always.

Downstairs, Frank stood in the kitchen with the fridge door still hanging open, the cold air brushing against his uniform pants. His jaw was tight, his hands fisted on the edge of the counter. He didn’t feel angry anymore. Not really. What he felt now was something far duller—and far heavier.

Hunger had twisted in his gut all day, but now, with a hastily made sandwich in hand and the first few bites swallowed, that pressure was beginning to lift. His headache dulled. The tight coil in his chest started to unravel. He chewed in silence, leaning against the counter, the bread dry and the ham slightly off, but at least it was something.

As he finished the last bite, the silence around him grew louder. He looked at the empty kitchen—no music, no humming from the hallway, no footsteps from above. Just stillness.

Frank sighed, setting the plate in the sink with a quiet clink. He reached up, loosening his tie with one hand, the thick fabric pulling stiffly against his collarbone. He hated that tie. Wore it because the uniform demanded it, but right now it felt like a noose.

He rubbed his temple, then glanced toward the stairs.

Christ, he thought. What the hell did I just do?

A few minutes later, the bedroom door creaked open.

The light flicked on with a muted click. The overhead bulb bathed the room in a soft, almost apologetic glow.

And there you were—curled up on the bed, still fully dressed, your form small beneath the quilt. You didn’t stir. Not even at the sound of his boots on the hardwood.

Frank’s mouth tugged downward at the corners. Quietly, he shrugged out of his military coat, folding it with practiced care and placing it over the back of the chair. His tie followed, then his shoes, each one set neatly beside the other as he moved slowly, deliberately—like he didn’t want to spook you.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. He just looked at you. Your back to him. Still, silent.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his baritone rough around the edges. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

You didn’t respond. Frank sighed, the sound low and worn. He shifted closer, sliding onto the bed beside you, the mattress groaning faintly beneath his frame. One large hand came to rest against your hip, tentative.

He bent his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder.

“I was hungry,” he murmured, lips brushing against fabric. “You know how I get. Bloody grumpy and half-useless when I haven’t eaten.”

Still, you said nothing. Just breathed—steady, but shallow.

Frank’s brow furrowed. He reached up, his fingers brushing over the edge of your sleeve. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s fine,” you said at last, your voice faint. Measured.

But Frank stilled. He knew that tone. Knew what “it’s fine” really meant. It was never fine. It was something you said to end conversations before they could begin.

“No,” he said softly, but firmly. “Talk to me.”

You were quiet again.

His hand slid to your back. “Did your parents call you?”

Your whole body froze.

You turned your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder, surprise flickering across your face. “How do you know that?”

Frank didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. He simply lifted a hand and cupped your cheek, his palm warm, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw.

“I’m not stupid,” he said gently. “I notice things.”

You blinked, unsure.

“The way you come back from their house and spend the rest of the day in bed. The way your shoulders stiffen during family dinners when your mother speaks. How you look at the floor more than your plate.”

You swallowed hard.

Frank’s eyes softened, though the line of his mouth remained grim. “I’ve heard her. The sarcasm. The way she wraps insults in compliments. She might think she’s clever, but she’s not subtle. Not to me.”

You looked away, but not fast enough to hide the welling in your eyes. You blinked furiously, but it was there—the sting.

Frank shifted closer, wrapping one thick arm around your waist, tugging you gently against him. You didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Your body folded into his like you’d been waiting for it.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he murmured, his voice low and steady against your hair. “I came in like a bloody freight train without stopping to ask if you were alright. And you weren’t.”

Your breath hitched, barely audible. But it was enough. Frank pulled you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing firm against your spine.

“You’re not weak,” he said. “You’re not dramatic. You’re not selfish. You’re human. And no one—no one—has the right to make you feel smaller than you are.”

That did it. Your body trembled once—and then the tears came, slow and silent. Not sobs. Not hysteria. Just quiet ache, finally given room to breathe.

Frank held you through it all, his lips against your temple, his breath steady in your ear, grounding you. Not speaking anymore. Just being there.

And in that quiet, wrapped in his arms, you finally let yourself believe—for the first time in a long time—that maybe you didn’t have to be strong all the time. Not with him.

The tears didn’t stop right away. They came in waves—silent, then shuddering, then silent again—until you were limp in Frank’s arms, your cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his undershirt, your fingers curled loosely around the fabric like it was a lifeline.

Frank said nothing. Not yet. He just held you. His broad chest rose and fell slowly, the beat of his heart steady under your ear. His hand moved gently along your spine, the calluses of his fingers warm and grounding. The room was quiet but for your breath and the occasional creak of the mattress as he shifted to keep you close.

When your breathing evened out—when the sting behind your eyes dulled to a manageable throb—you spoke.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” you whispered.

Frank didn’t respond. He only brushed a thumb across your back, patient.

“I try to be good,” you murmured. “I really do. I try not to ask for too much, not to need anything. I try to be quiet and helpful and easy to love, and still, she finds a way to make me feel like I’m some sort of... failure. Like I’m a burden.”

Your voice cracked.

“I got a promotion last year,” you said, shaking your head against his chest. “And she told me it was nice—‘if that’s the best you can do with that degree.’ I bought a car with my savings, and she said, ‘You know, most people your age already have a mortgage.’ Every time I bring something up, she twists it. Makes it sound like I’m lazy. Selfish. Never enough.”

Frank’s jaw flexed beneath your cheek.

“She always does it with a smile,” you said bitterly. “She never yells. Just… pokes. Cuts. She says things like ‘you’re so sensitive’ or ‘I was only joking’ when I flinch. And if I ever try to explain how it hurts, she turns it around. Says I’m ungrateful, crazy. Says I’m imagining things.”

You lifted your head then, blinking at the ceiling. “And I believed her for so long. I still do, sometimes. Even now, when I know better, it’s like this voice in my head—her voice—is always there, picking me apart.”

Frank was silent, but his grip on you tightened.

“I thought maybe if I was successful enough or pretty enough or quiet enough, she’d finally be proud of me. Finally say, ‘That’s my girl.’” You gave a hollow laugh. “But even when I got everything right, it wasn’t enough. It never is.”

You swallowed hard. “And I hate that I still want her approval. I hate that I feel guilty even talking about this. Like I’m betraying her, somehow.”

Frank cupped your face gently, his fingers brushing your temple, his thumb catching the tear that escaped before you could stop it.

“And my dad…” you went on, voice barely above a whisper, “he never said anything. He just sat there. Let her do it. I think he thought staying quiet was the same as staying neutral. But it wasn’t. It never is.”

Frank's eyes were dark now. Not with judgment, not with pity, but with fury. But his voice, when he finally spoke, was soft, measured, controlled.

“You’re not crazy,” he murmured. “You’re not imagining it. And you’re not wrong for feeling the way you do.”

You closed your eyes, his voice pouring over you like warm silk.

“She hurt you,” he continued, “in the quietest, most corrosive way possible. She made you doubt your own worth. Made you think love was something you had to earn. Something you could lose if you spoke too loudly or wanted too much.”

You bit your lip, nodding, your throat tight again.

“But she doesn’t get to decide your value,” Frank said. “She doesn’t get to rewrite the truth. Not anymore.”

His thumb traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face toward him. “I see you,” he said quietly. “All of you. And you are not too much. You are not a burden. You are not hard to love.”

You stared at him, trembling.

Frank leaned in, his baritone low, steady. “You are mine. My girl. And I take care of what’s mine.”

You let out a broken breath, your body finally beginning to let go.

“I’ve got you now,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Daddy’s here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The words struck something deep. The warmth in his voice, the unshakable certainty of it—it unraveled you all over again.

Frank held you through it.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, guiding you gently up from the bed. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

You moved without protest as he undressed you slowly—carefully—like you were made of something precious. He peeled off your sweater, unbuttoned your jeans, never rushing, never letting his hands leave your skin for long. When you stood bare before him, he wrapped you in one of his softest shirts—oversized and warm, smelling like him.

He helped you into bed again, then stepped away briefly, only to return with a warm washcloth and a fresh glass of water.

“You need anything else?” he asked, smoothing the blanket over your legs. “Tea? Something sweet?”

You shook your head. “Just you.”

Frank climbed into bed beside you, gathering you into his arms like you belonged there—like you always had. His skin was warm, his chest solid and soft beneath your cheek.

You tucked your face against him, your breath evening out. “I’m tired,” you whispered.

“I know,” Frank murmured, stroking your hair.

“You won’t let her hurt me anymore?”

“No, sweetheart. Never again.”

You sighed, melting into him.

And Frank—your steady, sharp-edged, impossibly gentle Frank—just held you, whispering low promises against your skin.

“Sleep now,” he said, his baritone thick with something tender. “Daddy’s got you. My good girl. My brave, good girl.”

His hand moved slowly along your side, grounding you with every pass of his palm. You felt safe. Warm. Seen.

But not tired.

Your eyes blinked open in the dim light, your fingers curling gently around the hand that rested against your belly. You stayed like that for a while, quiet in his arms, letting the warmth of his body anchor you—but eventually, you shifted, just enough for him to feel it.

Frank’s baritone rumbled low. “Hmm?”

“I don’t wanna sleep yet,” you whispered.

He didn’t ask why. Didn’t press. Just adjusted his hold, pulling you a little closer, his nose brushing the shell of your ear. “That’s alright,” he murmured. “We can stay awake.”

You hesitated, teeth worrying your bottom lip. Your heart beat a little faster. You weren’t sure why you felt so shy all of a sudden—after everything tonight, after all the ways he’d seen you unravel—but still, the question caught in your throat like something delicate.

You turned a little in his arms. “Frank?”

He looked down at you, his hazel eyes soft, patient.

You swallowed. “Can we... could you—” You faltered, cheeks warming. “Could you make love to me?”

Frank blinked once, his brows lifting just a hair, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. His hand came up instead, fingers brushing your hair away from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His voice dropped low, quiet, velvet-smooth.

“My girl needs Daddy, hm?”

Your breath caught.

The endearment never failed to melt something in you. And the way he said it—calm, assured, a little possessive—it sent a shiver through your belly that had nothing to do with fear.

Still, you hesitated. “Only if you want to. I know it’s late. I know it’s been a long day. We don’t have to—”

Frank cut you off with a soft, quiet laugh, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice laced with fondness and something far darker underneath, “you really think I’d ever say no to that?”

You flushed, suddenly shy again.

But Frank didn’t tease. Not cruelly. Just chuckled again, low and warm, his lips brushing your cheek. “That’s the point, isn’t it? I’m always hungry for you.”

He shifted then, rolling you slowly onto your back, his body settling over yours with careful weight. His hand cradled your face as he looked down at you, white hair falling slightly forward, his hooked nose casting a soft shadow in the lamplight.

“You could wake me in the middle of the night,” he whispered, “barely dressed, barely speaking, and I’d still find the strength to fuck you slow and deep until your eyes rolled back.”

Your breath hitched.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You could be crying like you were earlier, small and shaking and needing something only I can give—”

A kiss to your temple.

“—or smiling like the devil, pulling me down by the tie.”

A kiss to your cheek.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll always want you.”

And then finally—his lips on yours.

Slow. Warm. Certain.

When he pulled back, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered. Like you always had.

“Let Daddy take care of you,” he whispered, baritone thick and sure. “Let me make love to you the way you deserve.”

You nodded, breathless.

And Frank—gentle, dangerous, unshakably yours—began to undress you with reverence in his touch, like he already knew how to rebuild every piece of you he hadn’t broken but had always sworn to hold.

He started with your collarbone, warm mouth pressing reverent kisses to the curve of it, his white hair brushing against your skin as he lingered. The tip of his tongue traced the dip where your pulse beat, slow and steady, and he hummed low in his throat—like you tasted better than anything he’d ever earned.

“Such soft skin,” he murmured, dragging his mouth lower, kissing down the center of your chest through the fabric of his t-shirt. He tugged the hem up, exposing your bare stomach, and his hands spread possessively over your ribs, thumbs brushing beneath the swell of your breasts.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice thick with something close to awe. “Always so good for me. Always mine.”

He kissed your belly, slow and deliberate, lips soft against skin. Every press of his mouth built the tension low in your stomach, your breath hitching just a little more each time his warm mouth passed lower. He slid his palms down your thighs, guiding them open again, his body shifting between them with practiced ease.

When he looked up at you from between your legs, hazel eyes dark and steady beneath his white lashes, your breath caught.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured. “Open. Waiting. Letting me do this right.”

You swallowed, your fingers curling into the sheets, body already humming with anticipation.

He leaned down, lips brushing the inside of your thigh. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Daddy’s here now.”

And then he kissed you. Right there—soft and warm and patient. Just one long, deliberate stroke of his tongue along your folds, slow enough to make you twitch. He moaned softly at the taste, and the sound alone made your back arch.

“Fuck, this cunt,” he groaned. “You’re already so wet for me.”

You whimpered, hips rising instinctively, but Frank pressed one firm hand against your belly.

“No, baby. Let me lead. Just lie back and take it.”

His tongue returned—this time faster, more focused, flicking your clit in slow circles before sealing his mouth around it with obscene pressure. You gasped, a high sound caught somewhere between a sob and a moan, your legs trembling as he licked and sucked with devastating rhythm.

Your hand flew to his head, fingers tangling in the white strands. “Daddy—oh—fuck—”

That made him groan into you, the vibration of it sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. His tongue moved faster now, greedy, practiced, pushing you higher with each breathless flick.

And then—his fingers.

Thick and slow at first, just one sliding into your soaked heat, curling deep until you cried out. Then another—two of them now, pumping inside you with that unrelenting pressure that made your hips rock against his face.

“There you go,” he growled against your clit, never stopping. “Taking my fingers so well, baby. God, this pussy’s perfect. So tight. So wet for me.”

You were writhing now, tugging his hair, your thighs shaking as he fucked you with his fingers and sucked your clit like he wanted to keep you pinned to the edge forever.

“Please—Frank—Daddy—I—” You were panting, words falling apart.

He pulled back just long enough to whisper, “Come for me, sweetheart. Let Daddy taste it.”

And you did—loud, desperate, full-body trembling, your fingers yanking at his hair as the orgasm ripped through you, hot and heavy. He moaned into your cunt, licking through it, his fingers still moving gently inside you as you rode every wave.

When the tremors finally eased, when your body sagged back into the bed, boneless and dazed, Frank withdrew his fingers with a slick, satisfied sound. He kissed the inside of your thigh, then up your belly, his body dragging slowly over yours.

You blinked up at him, lips parted, dazed. “I… I wanna touch you, too.”

Frank’s smile was slow and dangerous, the weight of it curling deep in your gut.

“Oh, you will,” he murmured, baritone dropping like a stone into your chest. “But not until I’m sure you’re not done screaming my name.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your open mouth.

“Let Daddy work, baby,” he whispered against your lips, fingers trailing between your legs again. “You’ve still got more in you.”

And you did.

So much more.

[monkebearness]

More Than a Chance Encounter

Ji Suhyeon (tripleS JiYeon) x Male Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, romance

Word count: 9.2k

a/n: no smut yet, the first one really took a while to finish XD. however, a new one is in the works. for now, I hope you like this, if you are into this genre, at least.

The holiday season in one of the biggest malls in Seoul has made it crowded, as the year comes to a close in a couple of months. It still isn't as urgent and traditional like they do in America, but it's still a lot for Korea’s standards. Despite labels and posters of cheaper prices being stacked on a plethora of products, most of the supermarket is filled with the loud hum of the air conditioner as well as the movements of automaton couriers rushing in and out of the place. Nowadays, most people tend to visit to get some not so fresh nor natural, but nevertheless refreshing wind and spend time with their loved ones through various forms of recreation, entertainment, and the last reason: purchasing necessities for their families and friends. Necessities that are also known as gifts and groceries.

“How do I even use this..?” he whispers to himself, pressing all the buttons he can on the screen of the kiosk, only to end up in the same error popping up with an irritating sound that irritates even the folks behind him.

Self-checkouts at supermarkets are no longer the future because now, they’re the norm, here in the present. And yet a lot of customers are still stuck to the past, but reasonably so. Certain machines are not as simple as one would think, since these models are still new to the public, some of whom aren’t tech-savvy. This man in a suit just happens to fall into this case of generational dilemma. It’s a miracle he doesn’t even freak out yet.

“Ahjussi!” a voice roars from the end of the line. “We don’t have all night. Hurry up.”

But some would still take the advantage to shop in person during the holidays since, in most cases, it’s simply faster for people who visit after school or work. And as more and more users shop online, face-to-face customers take the advantage to buy in person just the same, especially when the couriers are taking a little longer than they want.

“Look, I’m trying to figure this thing out,” he mumbles as loud as he can. The longer he’s standing there with no solutions, the more he can feel the moisture accumulating on his scalp and realize how his fingers start to shiver under pressure. “I, um, I don’t think this thing is working. Does someone know how to fix this?”

“Maybe you broke it, old man,” another voice yells. “You should’ve just ordered online, so we didn’t have to deal with your mess!”

He can only sigh at the mockeries fired at him, but his patience remains high. Thankfully, karma finds its way to the heckler at the back, as the guard approaches and warns the pair to stop their impolite behavior. With the voice finally simmering down, the man in the suit is making some progress with the kiosk, but his ears catch footsteps getting louder and louder by the second. Clenching his fists in unease, he braces for whoever else may give him an earful.

“If I may, ahjussi…” He hears another voice from behind, now a calmer and feminine one. For some reason, his levels of anxiety begin to drop. “Let me help you with that.”

About six centimeters shorter than him, the woman’s ethereal appearance and attentive presence stuns him, prompting the man to step aside and let her deal with his problem. Despite being the very person behind him in the whole line, he didn't even notice her, since all his mind was focusing on was sorting out the kiosk by himself until he himself would have inevitably broken down due to the hecklers constantly mocking him. What surprises him is that she’s not in a uniform, yet she's able to fix his problem within half a minute, making him wonder whether or not she’s somehow from the staff.

“It’s not your fault,” she mumbles while he watches her from the side. “These kiosks are new. All you need to do is select the settings, change the method and—there! All your items are now totaled.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “That’s really good to know. Kamsahamnida, Miss.”

She bows in response, while he hurries transferring his groceries into his shopping bag. Afterwards, the man would have gone on with his own business, but this encounter was different for him, aside from the fact that he rarely asked or received anyone’s help until the machine broke. His own machismo isn’t gonna let him be without trying to offer his assistance to the woman when she also finished her checkout a couple of minutes later. He sees her walk in his direction. “I’m sorry if I’m being a bother again, but let me help you with that too. If it’s fine with you.”

“Oh… Kamsahamnida.” Despite being taken aback by his action, she bows to him before leading the way throughout the market’s exit, where they are welcomed by the full moon in the sky. He carries three stuffed eco bags—two on the left and one on the right—while the woman carries a lighter one. She would often take a few glances at him out of concern, though he tries to reassure her with a few nods and a meager smile. A thought on her mind pushes her to help him by calling an auto-cart inside, but they’re already far from the store.

He can’t help but take a few peeks inside her bag as they stroll along the lane. While he isn’t able to see the items clearly, curiosity has already gotten the best of him. “You got a lot of stuff there. Do you mind if I ask what the occasion is? Christmas is still a couple of weeks away.”

“They’re for a family gathering.”

“Oh, mine too! I mean, it’s not unexpected, but I believe folks rarely buy stuff this early before Christmas. Let alone in person.”

“That’s true, but I’d rather not risk having delayed deliveries, considering the digital traffic… Or you know, missing some important ingredients for your recipes.”

“That’s a fair point,” he slowly nods.

“And you…” She takes a longer gaze at his eco bag. “You don’t have as much… Though it still looks heavy. Probably heavier than mine. I could’ve called an auto-cart back inside.”

“No, it’s fine,” he keeps insisting with a chuckle. “Gwenchana, seriously. I’ve carried heavier loads of paperwork than these in the past couple of years.”

“Arasseoyo, Mister Muscle,” the woman shoots back. Her raised eyebrow expresses intrigue and amusement, even if she can tell that he’s just trying to impress her to a degree, and realizing it makes her let out a chortle as they walk to the bus terminal.

He tries to continue the conversation, or at least keep babbling on from the top of his mind as they finally arrive at the lane. The only thing is—they just missed the last bus. The next ride won’t arrive for a while, unless they walk to another stop. But considering their distance to the nearest one—as well as their goods being quite a handful, neither of them seems to have the intention of doing just that.

A topic finally pops up in his mind, still driven by his curiosity about her minutes earlier. “Do you remember when those counters were still filled with cashiers? It must’ve been a kind of culture shock, finding out that we’re gonna have to check out our own groceries all by ourselves, unless we order online.” 

“Yeah, I remember it clearly,” she admits with a more or less indifferent tone. “It hasn't been that long since they finally got rid of the last batch…” But the more her words come out, he senses jadedness and discouragement in her voice, despite saying a lot. “It sucks to see them leave, but what are you gonna do?” She sighs, much to his worry, even if he doesn’t know what her problem is about. “The company’s too afraid of falling behind.”

His mind compels him to do something, hoping to cheer her or lighten up the mood. “You must’ve frequented here often to know all of that… You even know how to fix a kiosk and you’re also worried about the cashiers. Are you the manager of the store?”

She keeps herself from scoffing at his genuine amazement, and the fact that he’s still basically glazing her for her mere act of assistance. “Um, no. Not as a manager, but I used to work here… As a cashier.”

“Oh…” Fuck is the first word that darts through his brain, followed by shit and crap. Immediate guilt and regret strike through his heart, believing that he’s offended her with his words. Why didn’t I think of it before? “I didn’t mean to phrase it like that. Joesonghamnida.”

“Oh, no, no!” she waves her hands in a slight panic while he starts to bow to her. “Don’t apologize. I wasn’t offended, and I understand your point, but I still work here. It’s just not my shift tonight.”

“You’re still working here?” he wonders, confused yet just as curious about the wave of conflicting info he has learned. “But I thought the cashiers had been discharged in this supermarket since last year… That’s why I thought you’d be a manager or something.”

“Most of us were,” she nods. “But some of us were lucky enough to stay here and were reassigned to other roles. I’m just a kiosk specialist now—which is just a much fancier way of saying that I’m a technician.”

They both chuckle at her remark. “I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he considers. “I think you have more experience than some folks in corpo nowadays. I think it’s always a plus when you learn things hands-on.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she slowly nods. “Though, I don’t believe I know more than those with desk jobs. But, I do think we have as much experience when working with people.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, people aren’t as many here compared to back then. It’s always been more convenient to shop online in the past decade. I just really think it is a bummer that a lot of workers have to be fired because our means of living have become easier now, no thanks to those bots.”

“It’s true, but I wouldn’t entirely see everything as negative,” she retorts. “As much as you’re right, there’s new jobs out there. Ones where we can start using our brains and bodies more often. Act more like a human for once, you know?”

He sees her somber smile as they lock eyes. The smile doesn’t appear to be forced, but rather wistful. Perhaps he’s been complimenting her way too much, and it’s starting to come off as annoying. Maybe she’s going through something or has been through a lot, but that’s not in his right to know, since they’ve only met. “Based on that, I’m guessing you don’t love your job. I don’t know how else to say it, since I’m just a stranger… But I hope you hang in there.”

She tilts her head while her lips pout. “Love? Hate? Hmm… I haven’t used those words to describe my jobs. Not in a while... I just know how to adapt and get used to whatever job or gig I can get by. But now that you mentioned it, I do love gaining more and more experience, just as I hate dealing with cranky customers, like that heckler from earlier.”

“But, umm,” she adds, feeling a glimmer of sincerity with what he just said. “Thanks for saying that. As a ‘fellow stranger’ myself, I appreciate it. I hope you hang in there, too.”

Amidst the winter breeze, the woman brings out a scarf from her bag and wraps it around her neck, before rubbing her hands and blowing into it. Her gestures give him an idea, which may or may not work, but that’s the least of his worries. He still feels a sense of debt and gratitude for her after she helped him out earlier—no matter how trivial it is. Perhaps due to the fact that she just happens to be beautiful and polite, maybe there is something else that he’s feeling, but he brushes it off. He doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable more than the frightening possibility that she already is, being with him.

“Hey, uhh… I think the next bus won’t be here for a while,” he brings up. “Would you mind if we grab a cup of coffee or tea first? Anything you’d like, really. It’s my treat.”

The woman is touched by his sudden suggestion, yet her lingering sense of pride is making her feel hesitant to accept it. “Oh, that's too much. You don’t have to…”

“It’s the least I can do, since you helped me out at the counter,” he avows. “I would’ve given you my stamp coupon from a café I often visit, but I’ve used all of it. That is… If you’re not in the rush right now. I’m just suggesting, cause it’s getting colder out here and we might need a place to warm up for a bit.”

She laughs at his honest statement, not caring whether he’s joking or telling the truth. His somewhat awkward yet honest deliveries have fascinated her for a while now. If it was like any other stranger, she would’ve left or ticked them off moments ago, but she doesn't feel too tense around him. It's in a way, refreshing. Besides, it is up to her if she will regret meeting him at a later time or not. She’s a grown woman, and if he even does anything funny, there are people everywhere. For now, she doesn’t feel like she wants to ditch him. At least, he has yet to give her a fair reason. “It’s fine, but since you’re the one offering, perhaps a cup of hot chocolate will do for me, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, that’s perfect!” a hint of enthusiasm arises in his voice, astonished that she even went along with his improvised suggestion. “Where would you like to order?”

“Hmm… I think you should lead the way,” a smile forms on the woman’s face while placing an index finger on her chin, insinuating her anticipation. “Seems to me like you’re the café connoisseur.”

The man chortles at her compliment. “I just know quality drinks, that's for sure.”

“Though I do prefer if we go somewhere closer to here,” she requests. “Just in case we catch the next bus arriving.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he hums. “I think I know just the place.”

He raises the three eco bags off the pavement with his care, although the woman assists him into carrying them properly. However, before she can follow his footsteps, she feels a buzzing in her pocket. Her eyes widened at the message she just received seconds ago.

“Joesonghamnida!” she suddenly bows to him in a fast sequence, her voice mirroring her rushed pace. “I got an urgent thing to do back home. But if you want, we can have coffee some other time.”

He didn’t expect her to say those latter words, but it gives him a sense of hope. That she didn’t misunderstood his intentions. But in a fit of internal panic, rummages his hands inside his messenger bag to find something. Within seconds, he pulls out a wrinkled small card at the same time the woman hails the nearest taxi cab on sight.

“Of course, of course… It’s okay! Here's my call card,” he hands it over. “Just call me up through that number and, umm, we can meet up wherever you like.”

The woman keeps the card inside her eco bag just in time as the cab stops in front of the sidewalk. Opening the backseat door for her, the man helps her get two of her shopping bags in the middle of the seat. Once everything has been sorted out, she turns to look at him—both in relief and guilt—and bows to him once more. “Kamsahamnida, ahjussi... And, uhh, Merry Christmas.”

After she heads inside the vehicle, he sees the taxi leave the mall grounds, heading into a lane of the greater concrete sea and finding a spot among the fellow school of headlights.

“I don't know what just happened,” he whispers to himself, as he sees a pair of bigger headlights approaching from a distance. As it gets closer, more and more people, most of whom are also packed with tons of holiday goods in their arms, behind him start gathering in a line. “I just hope I didn't ruin her night.”

= = =

It's been a few weeks since New Year’s passed. He hasn’t received any calls from her, but he never realized it. After spending time with his family at home, he gets back to slaving away at work through meetings with the higher-ups and on-the-spot presentations. It is still the second week of January, yet everything becomes a blur when it comes to going through his routine. Things repeat in a cycle of the mundane. That has always been the case for him, until he receives a text from an unknown number during his lunch break.

[Unknown]: Annyeonghaseyo, ahjussi. Is this Young Sungwoo?

He shakes his head. His eyes can’t believe it, but the messages keep on being sent.

[Unknown]: I don’t know if you still remember me, but this is the lady from the supermarket.

I’m really sorry for leaving out of the sudden.

I had an emergency back at home.

Whenever you’re free, would you like to have that hot chocolate you promised?

Why is she still texting me? is the first instinctive question that pops up in his mind, followed by Is this a scam?, How is this possible?, The text sounds like her, but why is she apologizing when I’m the one who kept pestering her?, This cannot be happening, among many other thoughts clashing together as the unexpected situation leaves him in a state of analysis paralysis. That's until he takes another look at her last message. The hot chocolate. Of course! How can it not be her?

Assured by the texter's identity, he spends the remainder of his break, thinking of the words to text her back before getting back to his desk, perhaps with perhaps even more effort than most of his recent individual presentations at work since returning to work.

{{Annyeonghaseyo, Miss! Yes, this is Young Sungwoo.}}

{{Gwenchanayo. I don’t mind. I do hope everything’s okay.}}

{{I’m only available after work or during the weekend.}}

{{But I can adjust my schedule if you want to meet on those days.}}

[Unknown]: If you’re free today, then I was thinking later.

Since it’s Friday, you know?

Is that possible for you?

{{That’d be great.}}

{{Do you have a place in mind?}}

The café happens to be about eight minutes walk from his work, surprisingly enough. Entering inside, he sees her at one of the fifteen tables, almost half of which is seated with other customers. As their eyes meet, she waves at him.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” she greets him with a low respectful bow, which he reciprocates before taking the seat in front of her.

“I thought this would be a nice place for us to meet since I saw your company address.”

His mouth gapes, understanding her intention. “So that’s why this place is near our building! But, uhh… I hope I didn’t make you take a long ride.”

“It’s okay, ahjussi!” She raises her hand. “My place isn't that far from here either.”

“Please, don’t call me ahjussi,” he requests with a sheepish tone, raising his tone a little. “I’m not old. I just turned thirty.”

“Well, I’m not that old,” he adds in embarrassment. The man’s lowered voice makes her giggle. “Now that I’ve basically outed my age to almost everyone here, I guess I do count as an ahjussi… But I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” she reassures. “Our ages are not that far after all… I’m actually twenty-six.” She then leans into him a little closer, curious at his own misgivings. “And by the way, I don’t even think you look old. You look just about our age… Even if you are an ahjussi, I wouldn’t mind lessening formalities between us.”

“Thanks.” He takes a sip of his cup. “Those hecklers at the market must’ve gotten to me.”

“They do look like they’re on the younger side,” she considers. “Kids these days, huh?”

“That’s true… But I don’t know how exactly their parents raised them, so I don’t think it’s worth holding any grudges against them. A bad day can get anyone riled up.”

His answer intrigues her. It may sound like a little lecture, but his answers resonate with her. “That’s, umm... Quite mature of you. You ever dealt with people like those at work?”

“Pretty much,” he slowly nods with instinct. “It comes with the territory, but we’ve learned that there are much better ways of discipline than screaming at them. Our generation, I mean.”

“I agree.” Her head tilts while taking a glance at him with wonder. In her mind, there’s nothing witty or insightful left for her to add. But I don’t think that should excuse them for making a mistake. They gotta learn how to better themselves.” Except for one.

His face can’t help but form a smile. Now, he doesn’t have anything to add. “Well said.”

Despite them simply being strangers who have met up for drinks, this moment feels nice and calming for them, yet something is still missing. He slowly turns to her with caution. “I–uhh–I haven’t caught your name before.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles, her eyes growing at his realization. “I told you my age, but not my name, haha. It’s Suhyeon. And by your call card, I can assume you’re Sungwoo?” Her eyes squint with suspicion in an attempt to tease him. “Unless that was your coworker’s name, which you used just to call me or something.”

He chortles at her remark, raising his hands for a second. “That is my name. No tricks.” Sungwoo keeps his right hand raised, signaling an attempt to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Suhyeon.”

“I know, I’m just messing,” she shoots back, right before reciprocating his handshake with a welcoming smile. “And it’s nice meeting you, too, Young Sungwoo-ssi.”

Hoping to initiate their conversation this time, she tries to recall a few details from him since their previous encounter, as well as his card. “Wait, so you are from corpo right? I can’t believe you said I have more experience than the likes of you.”

He lets out a snicker. The fact that she even remembers that surprises him. “My opinion still stands. Some of my colleagues could be freeloaders whenever there’s team projects.”

She sighs just imagining some of his hardships. “That must be a chore to deal with.”

“It is at times, but like what you said, you just get used to it.” The silence is now his cue; it’s his turn to try and get to know a little more about his companion. “So, Suhyeon-ssi, what else do you do for a living, aside from being a kiosk specialist at the mall… since I remember you saying that you’re working from job to job.”

“Well, that was the case.” Her smile grows wider. “I stopped working at the mall about two weeks ago when a friend of mine recommended me to a new and more stable one.”

He puts down his now half empty cup on the table. “What’s your main job these days?”

“Starting from next week, I’m gonna be a company driver,” she informs him. “My friend works there, but I got hired through their interview and test drives.”

“I gotta say, you're quite amazing, Suhyeon-ssi. What can you not do?”

“You’ve been flattering me non-stop, Sungwoo-ssi,” she shakes her head with a snicker, before her hand instinctively reaches to the napkin box and wipes some of the stain off his sleeve. “You didn’t even notice that stain.” She looks up to see his lips, also stained with coffee foam. “And your lips—”

“Oh,” she stops just as the napkin touches his lips, realizing that her impulse has astounded him. “Joesonghaeyo.”

“No, it’s okay,” he tells her. “But I can handle it from here.” He takes the napkin from her hand, igniting a spark from her. “Thank you for noticing this. You got sharp eyes.”

“Must be a force of habit,” she quips, while avoiding eye contact with him. Her mind reflects on her unexpected, ceremonious gesture.

From that moment forward, the two would keep meeting on weekends for coffee and hot chocolate, finding the most mundane yet meaningful things to talk about inside the café. It doesn’t always happen, but when they both agree to meet up, they make the most of it. And whenever none are available, they start using their phones longer, whether through usual texts or calls, almost every weekend night. Through their sleepless hours, they get to know each other, exchanging fun facts about themselves & sharing jokes and memes. Even finding out about their favorite or least favorite things is enough to prolong their conversations from twelve midnight until two in the morning.

{{Sungwoo: Never was a fan of avocados.}} {{But I may consider trying out this recipe.}}

[Suhyeon]: Yah! Don’t just consider (╥﹏╥) I promise, you won’t regret it!

{{Sungwoo: Fine, I will try it out.}} {{Your ingredients on the hot pot were amazing, after all.}} {{My colleagues and I ended up gobbling them all down within an hour.}}

[Suhyeon]: You’re welcome! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

{{Sungwoo: And how about my recommendations? I gave you about a hundred dessert suggestions last time. I’m sure you would’ve tried some of them by now.}}

[Suhyeon]: Hmm… I’ll think about it. It was too many for me to remember a single one.

{{Sungwoo: (—_—)}} {{Not one dessert caught your attention?}} {{You didn’t even stop me when I was rambling.}}

[Suhyeon]: Of course, I’m kidding! I did try that coffee toffee ice cream with my buddies. For a store-bought dessert, it's top-tier, that’s for sure. Cheap one too. You really love anything coffee-related, don’t you?

{{Sungwoo: Well, it got me through college and now.}} {{What got you through those times?}}

Sometimes, it takes a longer time for her to reply. He would think she’s introspective about something that’s trivial and mundane, or that he said something insensitive or offensive to her. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought questions like those up, but she always has an answer. Even if they sometimes come off as dismissive or evasive, Suhyeon’s insight resonates with him, to a past that even he rarely calls back to.

[Suhyeon]: Oh, you know… My friends and family. I’m sorry if that sounded cliche, but you get my point, right? Getting through college wasn’t easy for me. For pretty much anyone else, really.

{{Sungwoo: No need to apologize, Suhyeon-ssi.}} {{You got a point there.}}

[Suhyeon]: But that’s way back in the past. I’m quite content with what I got now. For the most part.

{{Sungwoo: I couldn’t agree more.}}

However, both of them are well aware that both or either of these pale in comparison to their meetings in person. Nothing beats the real thing, as a lot would say. Aside from coffee and chocolate, they would start ordering other drinks for once, sometimes even snacks they can munch on after work while they rant or share their thoughts. They found their own little ecosystem within the café’s area. Most talks would last for thirty to forty minutes, sometimes an hour—if not a few minutes longer, if they can’t help it.

Though, it never usually lasts more than that. Suhyeon whines that her parents have a less strict curfew for her even in her mid-twenties, which raises his eyebrow—though he never bothered to ask for any elaboration. She’d do the same thing for him, though there seems to be no problem with him answering her questions like he’s an open book.

“How about you then?” Because of Sungwoo’s amiable views and easy-going demeanor, Suhyeon eventually returns his curiosity by asking him about his occupation more than the call card he gave her about last December. “You must’ve been a marketing manager at your company at this point. You’ve read a lot of trends from the palm of your hand.”

“That’s flattering… But I am not there yet,” he confesses, wearing a simper on his face. “I don’t think I’ll even get there in a while. While being a no-name marketing specialist has its ups, you gotta deal with the rest of your team or even suck up to the older higher ups just to convince them that your idea is worth pushing through. I even don’t have any other time or the privilege to spend on outside work, at least besides these hours.”

“Hmm… You’re not alone. My friends are way out of my league… One’s a gourmet chef. The other’s banker. The other two even got promoted to higher positions just recently!” she lets out a deep sigh. “Until now, I still question why they are still hanging out with me…. Why they’re even making time for me.”

He doesn’t know how else to feel but amazement. “They must be great friends. Just considering how highly you speak of them.”

“Oh, they are!” she exclaims with enthusiasm, only for it to dip down within seconds. “It’s just… Ugh. I don’t wanna admit it, but I feel like I’m just being a burden to them whenever I meet up with them outside.” She places each of her cheeks on her palms, slowly rubbing them up and down as she groans with lower spirits.

“Don’t think of it that way,” he insists. “You still have a lot ahead of you, and plus, you’re not alone. There is nothing burdensome about having close friends… They rely on you as much as you rely on them. Clearly, you all care for each other.”

His words slowly warms Suhyeon’s heart. “Seems like you have good friends yourself.”

“Had,” he retorts. “Most of my friends are just being slaves to our work like myself. Even some of them are staying at home, raising their children, like almost twenty-four seven.”

Her glassy eyes are filled with sympathy and consolation, making her turn her head away from him for a moment as she puffs. Sungwoo senses her vulnerable moment.

“Everyone has their reasons or excuses why they’re busy, I get that... Life just happens.”

What he said casts a gloom over her in the form of less pleasant memories resurfacing.

“Sungwoo-ssi,” she mutters, keeping her own voice from trembling. “I–uhh…”

“What is it, Suhyeon?”

“Nothing,” she clears her throat. “It’s just… What you said was really something. I hope your friends got to do whatever they wanted back then. Not everyone gets to reach their dreams the way they expected, you know?”

“That’s true, but even if that seems to be the case, life doesn't stop after your twenties. I mean, it shouldn’t!” he asserts as a hopeful smile forms on his face. “And that is coming from someone who just left that chapter.”

She turns to him, reading his face. “Sounds like you've had regrets in your twenties.”

“Well, I can't deny that…” He chuckles at her deduction, not out of mockery, but the fact she has read his expression too well. “But then again, don't we all have those at some point?”

The woman gulps at his rhetorical question, but her once facade of somber eyes flare up. Her left hand slowly squeezes her empty coffee cup until the rest of her fingers meet her thumb around it. Keeping his hands clasped under the table, Sungwoo’s peripherals can sense her pent-up emotions slowly breaking out through her actions, although he does not say anything about it. Despite his concern, he knows that she doesn’t have to open up if she’s not ready. Yet for Suhyeon, taking in his honest words cools her down—in a fashion that’s familiar to her. “Butterflies” would be a cliche of a word to describe it. She remembers all too well how she has used that word about someone else before, and how it ended up to where she is now. The good, the bad, and the ugly of it all.

“I’m sure you'll get to reach what dreams you want to do,” he looks at her with solace. “Even if you don't realize what they are just yet. I hope you don’t give up on it.”

She stares into the blank space, considering his words, even though most of her mind has always been discouraging her from imagining anything. Pipe dreams won't get us anywhere, she reminds herself. And why are you even here? This is the last place you should be. But turning to him once again, Suhyeon senses the last thing she’d expected to happen in a long time. Her heart slowly beating faster. You should stop meeting him. Looking down on the floor, the woman just realizes the moisture building up in her eyes.

As tears begin to pour down her face, Suhyeon looks at Sungwoo once again, seeing his hand holding a piece of napkin in front of her. While sniffling, she looks up to his face. He doesn’t say or ask anything, except for the words, “Are you alright?”

“I... uhh... I don't know... But thank you,” she mumbles. Taking the white cloth from his hand, she begins to feel a familiar rhythm within her. One that’s growing louder than the lo-fi music that’s playing on the speakers.

But amidst their moment of bliss, they watch a child entering the café door—standing with daze and confusion while everyone else also looks at her with curiosity, adoration, or concern. Sungwoo expects the nearby young cashier or anyone else to approach and calm her down, yet instead, a collected Suhyeon walks to the girl first with an amiable and sympathetic approach. He follows her, astonished at her initiative and attention, though his worry still lingers for her due to her own moment of vulnerability earlier.

“Hey, little girl,” she kneels on her level. “Are you alright? Why are you here alone?”

“I…” The girl’s voice cracks as she starts to break down in tears. “I don’t know where my eomma and appa are!”

“It’s okay, don’t cry,” she holds her closer, comforting the sobbing child with a slow pat and caress to her back. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her, arachi? What’s your name?”

“Ha…Eun,” she sniffles. “My name… Is Haeun… What… Should I… call you, eomonim?”

Suhyeon uses the napkin to wipe off her tears. “My name is Suhyeon,” she turns to him with a gaze of trust. “And this ahjussi’s name is Sungwoo. You’re gonna be staying with us for a while. We can get you anything you want while we look for your parents.”

Hearing it from her again, he oddly doesn’t mind the term this time. Maybe it’s just the context it’s used that bothered him before, but as it left her mouth, it sounds—normal. It sounds complimentary. “Hello, Haeun-ah,” he greets her. “Do you have anything we can use to help you find your parents? Do you memorize their phone numbers?”

“I don’t—*hic*—know, ahju—*hic*—ssi…” Haeun tries telling him through her hiccups.

Suhyeon notices the lanyard on Haeun’s neck, finding the girl’s ID. “Haeun-ah… Can I take a look at this for a second?”

The girl nods, allowing Suhyeon to inspect the back of the ID. Her guess proves her right. “It has a phone number,” she informs Sungwoo and everyone else in the café, filling up the once disquiet and tense café with optimism. “We can call your parents, Haeun-ah!”

Almost twenty minutes later, a couple storms inside the café with faces of fright and disquietude. “Haeun-ah!” they cry to her. Their unease dwindles down at the second they find their daughter sitting on the table beside Suhyeon and in front of Sungwoo, taking a sip of her own smaller cup of hot chocolate.

“Eomma, appa!” Haeun rejoices, running to them in the middle of the café as her parents wrap her in a warm embrace, prompting cheers from the staff and some customers. Sungwoo can only smile at their precious moment, though he sees Suhyeon letting out a sigh in relief—droplets of sweat start to drip out of her scalp. Yet it also fascinates him that her smile grows much wider.

“Kamsahamnida, Miss!” Haeun’s parents bow to them in a rapid succession, bowing as low as their heads can reach. “Kamsahamnida, Sir! I don’t know how we can repay you. Thank you so much for looking out for our daughter.”

“Gwenchanayo,” she reassures them, holding each of their arms in hopes that they stop bowing to them—which they eventually do. “Just keep looking out after your daughter.”

Another several minutes pass. The sun had already set and rush hour had just begun. Suhyeon and Sungwoo have exited the café, taking a stroll to the nearby bus stop. With no words leaving any of their mouths, they’re only hearing the horns of whining drivers along with their own footsteps. She’s quieter around him, ever since he saw her in tears. It’s the first time she hasn’t spoken to him on their way home.

“You know how to handle that pretty well,” he praises her. “Have you ever considered being a nursery or kindergarten teacher?”

Her eyes widen, realizing something that only she knows. “I have to go,” she tells him with a fast and weak pace, contrasting her enthusiasm earlier. “I’m really sorry about this, Sungwoo.”

“Oh… It’s fine!” He wants to ask why, but he stops himself. He doesn’t have the right. Besides, it’s not the first time she’s told and left out of the sudden, he nudges himself. Even if she doesn’t tell the reason... Even if she won’t tell him the reason the moment they text tonight, like nothing strange ever happened. “Take care… Suhyeon-ssi.”

= = =

Three weeks have passed. Things start to drift apart. Suhyeon stopped texting first after the first week, but Sungwoo didn’t stop. Both people have had sleepless nights, but they never meet. Not even text as often as they did. Due to the gradual fall in their digital and personal interaction, Sungwoo eventually stops taking initiative. As their respective lives go on, he does his best not to succumb to the temptation of texting her over and over, to the point she becomes uncomfortable like he’s often feared since they met.

Of course, it would be far from the last time he receives a text from her.

[Suhyeon]: Hey, Sungwoo-ssi. Can we meet?

No coffee or chocolate. No avocados or desserts. Just each other’s chilling presence and their own breaths warming up this winter afternoon. He notices her new look. It’s not a uniform, but it’s a little more formal than the previous attires he saw her in.

He simply wants to tell her that she’s beautiful, yet his more soured and stubborn self wants to ask her why it took her this long, even though he knows that her personal life has never been his business, nor should it be.

“It’s been a while,” he breaks the awkward silence with a sigh. “Is everything alright?”

“Things have…” Her eyes are darted on the ground, her hands clenching on her knees. “Gotten busier at work.”

He senses that something else is troubling her mind, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. He’s nothing but a friend, perhaps a mere close acquaintance to her. Someone who she can confide her most trivial problems to, and only that. But despite this meek and unassertive thought, he believes that—deep down—that may just be for the better.

“I don’t think I’ll be meeting you in a while,” she continued before he could’ve answered.

“It’s okay,” he said without a tone of complaint. “I understand that. No pressure.”

Such a response struck a nerve in her or punched through her gut. As if that’s not the answer she had hoped for from the man. “What if I don’t see you longer than that?”

“Then…” He wants her to explain why she’s asking him such a question, but he tries to remain reasonable, no thanks to his self-doubt. “I’ll understand if you can’t meet up.”

He feels like himself in the past. Spineless. Dishonest. Numb. Helpless. Coward. Yet another part of him keeps fighting on, despising those traits, not for his own sake, but for her. Since they started meeting up and talking, Sungwoo has known a lot about her, yet there’s still so much he doesn’t know. The same goes for Suhyeon, but he thinks she cares little about that. There is an invisible barrier between them that has been keeping them from going further than this. Whatever this is.

And now, after a few months of making a connection with this wonderful woman, his mind braces for the worst case scenario, just as his heart foresees his fears. Is this it?

Their eyes meet, reading a few glimpses through each other’s souls. Broken. Deprived. Lonely. Yearning. She looks down on his face, his lips now appearing much closer. Her heartbeats do not deceive her, deafening her fear. No words follow from their mouths, only each other’s breaths becoming clearer and louder with each second. Giving in to the whispers of her temptation, Suhyeon gets up from her seat and inches towards him.

Frozen in the moment, their lips touch. Sungwoo melts into the kiss, closing her eyes with her. Seconds pass, warmth turns into a burning sensation. Sweetness turns to hunger, one that neither of them have felt in forever. As the man reciprocates her gesture, the irresistible tingle she’s feeling urges her tongue to slide into his—

“Mianhaeyo,” she takes a few steps back away from him, appalled by her own impulse while catching up her breath. “I… I shouldn't have done that—”

Sungwoo remains frozen for a second, but not his heart. He leans himself closer into her this time, embracing her as the beat of their hearts sync with the rhythm of their second kiss. With their eyes closed once again, Suhyeon doesn’t fight back. Instead, she slowly wraps her arms around his nape in order to pull him closer until their chests collide.

It would be the last time the pair would’ve met…

If it wasn’t for Sungwoo’s stubbornness. Even if it costs whatever they had, he wants to know how she's been doing ever since. Even if she made the move, he either can’t help but blame himself as the reason why she stops reaching out to him after that meetup.

{{Suhyeon-ssi.}}

{{I don’t know what happened then.}}

{{I'm really sorry for kissing you.}}

{{But I know something else is on your mind.}}

{{You can talk to me.}} {{Like you always have.}}

{{Please text back. Or call me.}}

{{Just tell me you’re okay.}} {{Or if you’re not.}}

{{If you really don’t want to meet again. I’ll understand.}}

{{But I’ll always be here.}}

= = =

Another week has passed, and Sungwoo goes on with his usual life—yet, the presence of Suhyeon still lingers on his mind. From the bar to the PC bang, he tries to do everything he can to get the woman off his thoughts. Even online dating—as some of his coworkers suggested to him lately… So he does, and after his twenty-third swipe, he hits it off with someone, much to his own surprise. “You must be Hyewon… Or is it Belle?” he corrects himself immediately. “Your profile has two names. I don’t know what to call you.”

She chuckles at his hesitant question. “Any will do… And you are Sungwoo-ssi, if I am not mistaken?”

Things are taking off for them in the next half an hour. He compliments her appearance. She laughs at his jokes, whether they’re forced or not. They talk about their opinions on certain topics. He fails to read her signals. It’s a start, he admits with little confidence.

But on that same Saturday night, he receives a phone call from an unknown number. He can just ignore the call, let the other party leave a message after the beep, maybe he can hang out with Belle a little longer, see how things go. Unfortunately for himself and his date, he can’t help but be Sungwoo. As someone who has spent his life through his job, every call for him has become an obligation.

He answers it with some caution. “This is Young Sungwoo speaking. Who is this?”

But that voice. Her voice. It's something that he can never forget. “It’s me, Ji Suhyeon. This is my company’s number… I’m sorry if I surprised you. I’m just finishing my shift for the night, and…”

She stops. And despite the past few times they’ve talked on the phone, he can now sense her hesitation from the other side. “You can say it. I won’t mind.”

“Well, I just thought of you,” she completes her words. “Plus, I owe you an apology. In ways more than one.”

He can hear his own heart, making that familiar rhythm. Whenever he was with her.

“It’s okay, Suhyeon,” he stammers, but immediately clears his throat. “How are you?”

“Could be worse, to be honest…” A deep breath from her fills the dead air for a few seconds before Sungwoo can hear her voice again. “Are you free… This weekend?”

There it is. It’s his chance. Maybe his last one.

“You know I am,” he tries to play it cool with her, yet he quickly realizes how awkward he sounded. “I mean, of course... Same place?”

He can hear Suhyeon let out a light chuckle for a moment. “Maybe not at the café,” she suggests. “But somewhere else. If that’s fine with you.”

It’s about the nth time they said those words to each other. But hearing it from her once again is a breath of fresh air. “Elsewhere would be nice, too.”

Returning to the bar, his eyes scan most of the place, only to find that his date is no longer around. He receives a message.

[Belle:] Sorry for dipping early, but I got a thing. We can still hang out another time if you want.

Strangely enough, he doesn’t feel a sense of disappointment. Sure, he’s bummed out he fumbled the date with the first woman he met online in years, but he’s not too bummed out about it because of her. Instead, he couldn't feel any luckier because of this call.

= = =

It’s the fourth of May. Instead of the usual café, they decided to meet at the park outside. They take a seat next to each other on one of the benches, albeit keeping a wide distance. He’s on the left corner, with her on the right. Amidst the silence of the background, they see each other in their springtime attire. Suhyeon is in a brighter dress and jeans, while Sungwoo is finally not wearing a suit for once; instead, he’s wearing a blue short sleeve. Whether or not today ends up being the last time they meet, both of them agree on one thing: it’s about time that they meet each other in the early morning for the first time.

“You look beautiful,” he scratches his head, finally listening to his heart instead of letting his own brain filter his thoughts until they sound more logical or interrupts himself with more filler words.

She looks down in embarrassment, hiding her reaction as she senses her cheeks slowly heating up. “Thank you,” she mumbles. “You look nice, too, Sungwoo-ssi.”

“Thanks… But can we talk about what happened last time—” he continues.

“I know,” Suhyeon interjects with a soft-spoken tone. She takes a deep breath, before looking up to face him. “But I have to tell you something first, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he straightens his sitting posture while their eyes level. “What is it?”

The woman gulps involuntarily. “There’s another job I haven't told you about… And it’s not that simple. It’s not that I don’t wanna meet you, Sungwoo, even if I'm busier... It’s just… I don’t know how to say this.”

“Take your time.” Sungwoo doesn’t know why she's suddenly talking about her job, yet he keeps listening, sensing her state of distress and hesitation. “Whatever that may be, and as long as you love it, I’m happy for you. I don’t think our… situation should get in the way of your…”

There it is again, she thinks. “Why shouldn’t it?”

“Because that’s your job,” he counters. “It’s your life… And besides, I can just adjust.”

“I don't think you can.” She can’t keep on lying and hiding like this. He has to know, even if it ruins things, ends things even. “Sungwoo-ssi. The thing is…”

“What is it? I’m sure it’s nothing bad—”

“I have a child, Sungwoo.”

She looks at him with a fortified expression, yet deep down, she feels the most nervous. Especially when his eyes widen after hearing those four words, her thoughts go all over the place, stricken with panic and despair. Not even air comes out from his mouth that moment, something that only intensifies Suhyeon’s unease as his silence lasts seconds.

“Did you just hear what I said?” she asks him up front, slightly raising her voice in an attempt to keep herself from crumbling from within. “I’m a single mother.”

“This job, this responsibility of mine isn’t easy,” she continues before he can make any response, clenching both her fists and finally pouring her heart out. “It never has been. Every year, you get into family gatherings. Not only do you help prepare them, but you buy gifts for your relatives, yet all you get from some of them are blames and lectures for what’s happened to you. And whenever you're with friends, you gotta put on a bolder face just to ask them to look out for the kid while you work your ass off in different jobs from morning ‘till afternoon—or whenever you're applying for one… But there's things I don't regret, at least with what I have now. And no matter how hard things get, I don’t regret keeping him. Raising him.”

At that moment, some things have become clearer to him. Their long and wholehearted talks about life and dreams. The unusual curfew and her leaving out of the sudden. Her encounter with the little girl. Her pent-up emotions finally cracking around him. Now, he realizes why she never told him more of her life, rooted out of the fear and distress that she will be rejected, lambasted, patronized, or looked down on, like everyone else in her life.

“And just like meeting you that night… It’s something that I don’t regret either,” she confesses. “Even if that was some silly chance encounter, it was one of the times I felt something new. So I called you that day to see where it goes, and here we are… But of course—a part of me still keeps telling me: Let it go. You’re a mother now. You don't deserve to have these feelings... You're just giving yourselves a hard time.”

Sungwoo looks at her face. His mind and heart tells her to hold her hand. Say anything. Do anything to comfort her, now that she’s told him the truth about the barrier that has been keeping them from going the distance for months.

Suhyeon’s heart starts to tighten with every beat, seeing his look of guilt and sorrow. It's not the first time she's seen it from someone. “If you don’t want to see me, after this… I'll understand, Sungwoo... I was the one who invited you into whatever-this-thing-is to begin with, didn’t I?”

“No,” he tells her without hesitation. “That doesn’t change what I think about you.”

“It should…” she mutters in defeat, shameful to even look him in the eye as she says it.

“What you said, it only proved what I already thought of you… You’re a wise, beautiful, hardworking, independent, and fearless woman,” he elaborates, allowing himself to be vulnerable with Suhyeon. “And for you to keep that part of your life for long—it must’ve been a pain. It’s something that I can’t imagine. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you sooner. About how you were really feeling. What you’re going through—”

“Don't,” she interjects with disdain, but not for him. It’s too late, Suhyeon thinks while her mouth remains shut. You’ve heard this before. Look at what happened to us. “I’m tired of people telling me that they're sorry. It's not your fault why I'm like this.”

“I know… I’m sorry because I wasn’t attentive enough. That I wasn’t courageous enough,” he adds. “But I am not sorry that it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

Her eyes widen, her mouth agape in shock. Staring through his soul, waves of emotions start to clash deep down in her heart—Awe. Doubt. Denial. Mistrust. Misunderstanding. Fear. Warmth. Comfort. Growth. Excitement. Hope. Joy. Acceptance—while a stream of conflicting thoughts flood her mind. This was bound to happen sooner or later. What’s the point of this? You never had a chance. He’s one of them. You’re a disgrace for ever being here. He'll just leave you. Go home with your son and your parents. There’s no point in hoping, Ji Suhyeon. “Sungwoo-ssi…”

“I like you, Suhyeon-ssi,” he finally affirms, with much stronger conviction in his voice. “I don’t know if it means anything to you, but that’s the truth… I don’t care what comes after this. But I just want you to know that there's no shame in what you are, and what you're going through… I'll always be here for you.”

Suhyeon’s inner thoughts and misgivings shut down. In turn, her heart starts to sing without shame, rejoicing and reaching ranges she hasn't felt in years, as it yearns for something more. His earnest gentleness. His soothing scent. His comforting touch. Unbeknownst to her, he feels just about the same.

She rushes to Sungwoo, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him. He places his right hand on her head, caressing it. That warm comfort that she’s been longing for, it’s within her grasp. Tears of jubilation begin to drip from her face down to his shirt, as she breathes easier. “Gomawoyo, Sungwoo.”

Gently pulling away from their embrace, she leans back to look at him closely with a warm and grateful smile that mirrors his, letting out a chuckle of relief. “And I like you, too.”

A smile quickly forms on Sungwoo’s face, prompting him to give her a peck on the lips. As she giggles, Suhyeon prolongs the act with a longer, sweeter kiss of acceptance. From this day forward, their months of week to week encounters and meetups at the café end, as a new chapter of their lives awaits. It is unknown as it is promising, exciting as it is frightening. But at least they have each other to face it head-on. Together.

= = =

a/n: hello again! if you've reached the end, then you must've read a good chunk of it. it's not my proudest work, even if it's only my second one, tho I liked writing it for the most part. still, I wanna publish it, 'cause I don't want it to stay in my drafts lol. once again, the aforementioned next fic from earlier is already in progress. anyhoo, thanks for the read. I hope you have a great day!

[writtenbyan-aries]

My Favorite Edit | Chris Sturniolo

I asked a friend of mine to make me t w o different edits for t w o different one shots, so the credit for these edits is all her! 🖤 The edit will be posted within the fanfic, but her socials are linked right below! I’m also pretty sure tumblr ruined the quality, so if you wanna see it without tumblr quality, click below.

Instagram - jas.sturn_ (her old insta got banned - go show her some love with giving her a follow while she figures everything out!)

TikTok - http.sturnx | Edit

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Summary: You’re doing a stream with the triplets and a fan asks you if you have a favorite fan edit of them - to which.. you do.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, friends to lovers, flirting, kissing, unprotected sex, biting, scratching, general filth with fluff

Word Count: 2.4k | unedited

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You aren’t exactly sure how you were roped into doing a livestream with the triplets, but here you were.

You were all in Matt’s room, surround the camera and you were just answering questions why they each took turns playing their game.

“I want to answer the next one.” Chris leans forward and Matt looks at him, “If there’s one for you.”

“Send me some questions, chat!” Chris says with a laugh, “I just wanna yap today for some reason.” He shrugs, “I don’t know.”

Nick laughs, “I’ve seen a few with y/n’s name but you have been hogging the screen so I can never see them!” Nick sighs, “Listen, chat, send in some questions for y/n. I’d rather hear her yap than Chris.”

“What? You don’t like listening to my beautiful, bodacious voice, Nick?” Chris looks at Nick and Nick holds his hand up, “That’s not- don’t ever say that word to me ever again.”

Chris laughs and you lean forward, squinting as you look at the screen.

“Oh, there’s one.” Matt points, “Y/n, do you have a favorite fan made edit of one of the triplets?”

You lean back, fighting back a smirk, “No.”

“Liar!” Nick points, “You’re trying so hard not to crack a smile, now spill!”

“I do- no, I can’t.”

“Ooohh.” Matt spins his chair, “So what you’re saying is, you do infact have a favorite one tucked into one of those little folders.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, “I do not.”

“You totally do.” Chris smirks at you and you smirk, shrugging your shoulders, “I chose not to answer this question.”

Nick leans over, “You’ll show me later, right?”

You nod and break out into laughter as Matt and Chris look like they’ve been told shocking news, “Excuse me!?” Chris scoffs, “Alright, fine. I see how it is.”

“They want to know why you won’t show us.” Matt looks back at you from the screen and you sigh, “That would be like picking a favorite.”

“We all know who you-“

You elbow Nick, “Zip it, blabbermouth.”

“Oh there’s so much more to this.” Matt laughs and Chris keeps his stare on you. You look at him, “Why are you staring at me?”

You can feel your cheeks heating up as he shrugs, “Just waiting to be shown which edit is your favorite.”

“Not happening.” You smirk and look back at the screen, trying to avoid the stares from all three guys surrounding you, “Fuck, fine. I’ll show Nick, but that’s it!”

You point to the screen, “The rest of you can find it from the sound.”

“It’s definitely Chris.” Matt mumbles with a smirk and your jaw drops, “No.”

“So it’s Matt?” Chris questions and you shake your head, “Nope.”

“It’s me guys!” Nick pumps his hand up and down above his head and you laugh, “Yeah, for sure.”

You take a deep breath as you pull TikTok up on your phone, “I’m not turning the sound all the way up so, may the odds forever be in your favor.”

You turn your phone away from Nick, leaning back so Chris can’t lean forward and see.

“Okay.” You look at Nick, “Ready?”

He nods, “Wait, wait. I don’t want to give it away so I’m just-“ he brings his hand up to shield his eyes, giving you a nod, “Let’s do this.”

You click on the video, turning your volume up just a tad and you can’t help but laugh nervously as you quietly head the sound start to play, “I-I-I-I could fuck you all the time..”

Nick’s eyes go wide and he looks at you as it ends, “Wait, wait, wait, wait..” he takes your phone, holding it directly to his ear.

His jaw drops when he hears Chris in the edit whisper, “I’ll be right back..”

“Oh my god..” Nick hands you your phone back and leans back shaking his head, “Y/n!”

“What!?” You slide your phone between your thighs and lean back, “Not a big deal.”

“What was it?” Chris looks at Nick and Nick looks between him and Matt quickly, “I-“ he scoffs, “I have no words.”

“You broke.. the chat, y/n.” Matt looks at you and you shrug, “Oops.”

“Come on, I need to know!” Chris groans, “I’m curious.”

“Alright George, settle down.” Nick laughs and Chris looks at him confused and Nick raises his brows, “Curious George?”

“Ohhhh.” Chris snaps, pointing at Nick, “Gotcha. Gotcha, now tell me so I can go back to being just Chris.”

“You.. are one strange little man.” Matt shakes his head and glances at you.

Everyone knew you had a thing for Chris, except for Chris, apparently.

You raise your brows and check your phone, “I’m getting a.. phone call? I gotta go.”

“Your phone didn’t even go off!” Nick yells as you walk out and you laugh, quickly making your way down the steps and into the kitchen.

You pull up the live on your phone and you start to laugh as you see Matt point to the screen, “She’s watching from her phone!”

“Y/n!” Chris yells as he leans forward, his face close to the camera, “I know you can hear me, get back up here this live isn’t over!”

You laugh, shaking your head as you hear them bicker for him to move.

You quietly make your way back up the steps, standing outside of the door and you hear Chris stand up, “I’ll go get her.”

“Yeah because she has questions to answer.” Matt says and as soon as Chris round the corner, he jumps back, letting out a yell as you start laughing.

You look down, seeing both Nick and Matt staring at the door with wide eyes, and you laugh harder.

“Jesus Christ, y/n.” Chris groans, “Fuck!”

You follow him back into the room, “Scare ya?”

He nods, sitting back down, “were you out there the whole time?”

You shake your head, “No I went downstairs to the kitchen, seen Chris’ message and then I came back up and stood out there right before he got up.” You laugh, “What are my questions?”

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“Im gonna play some fortnight.” Matt loads up the game after the stream ends and Chris nods, “Yeah, I’ll get on with you.”

Chris walks out and you stand up, looking at Nick, “You hungry?”

“I am.” Matt laughs and Chris pops back in, “Me too.”

“I’ll order dinner, text me what you want.”

You work on ordering the dinner and as you’re looking down at your phone, you walk into one of them, “Oh, sorry.”

You look up and smirk as Chris stares down at you, “Whatcha doin’?”

You show him your phone, “Ordering dinner.”

“Oh that’s cool.” He snatches your phone and runs into his room, trying to close the door. You manage to push your way in and you lunge for your phone, “You don’t want to watch that I promise.”

“Aw, why not?” He spins around, laughing as you fail to grab your phone.

“Chris!” You whine, “Please it’s em-“

“I-I-I-I could fuck you all the time..”

You freeze, your eyes going wide as you come to realize that this is actually happening.

He slowly spins around, his eyes still on the phone until the end and then he looks up at you, “Y/n..”

“Chris..”

He licks his lips, a smirk slowly appearing on his lips, “You want to explain yourself?”

You shake your head, “No.. I just want to, uh. Order dinner..” you reach for your phone but Chris grabs your wrist with his free hand and tosses your phone onto his bed, “Why did you just tell me?”

“Tell you what?” You fight to look up at him and he lifts his hand to your chin, forcing you to look up, “That you want to fuck me all the time?”

“There’s..” you sigh, “More to it than that..”

“So tell me.” His voice is a whisper, his eyes scanning over your face.

You tilt your head, “Wasn’t sure if you would want that.”

“I want anything that involves you.” He pulls you in, his lips crashing onto yours and he walks you back to his bed.

You sit down and watch as Chris reaches down to pull his shirt up over his head.

You bite your lip, doing the same and he leans down to move his body over yours. His lips attach to yours and you slide your hands up into his hair.

He groans lowly against your lips as you tug, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, “Take these off for me.”

He stands back up, pushing down his sweats while he watches you take off yours.

You move back up on the bed, slowly taking off your panties before slipping under the covers. Chris steps out of his, jumping into bed right next to you.

His lips are on yours and his hand travels down to between your thighs, “Wish you would have said something sooner, ma.”

You bite your lip, whimpering out as his fingers press to your clit, “I-I know.”

He smirks, leaning in to kiss on your neck as his fingers press hard and slow circles against you, earning more whines and whimpers from you.

You gasp, rolling your hips as your hand slides up his arm, nails digging into his shoulder, “Fuck, feels so good.”

He rests his forehead against your temple, slipping his fingers down into your aching cunt, “You’re so wet.”

You nod, your brows furrowing as his fingers slowly thrusts in and out, “F-fuck.” You turn towards him, lips connected to his as your leg lays over his hip.

His fingers work faster, earning slightly louder moans from you.

“I just know you’re going to feel so good around me, ma.” Chris groans lowly and you nod, gasping out as your walls squeeze his fingers.

You reach down between the two of you, slipping your hand under his arm and into his boxers. He gasp, bucking his hips as your hand wraps around his cock, “Fuck, baby.”

You tilt your head back, moaning out as your thighs quiver sure your release. Your hand squeezing him gently in your grasp, “Fuck, Chris.” You whine, your eyes rolling back as he guides you through your high.

Chris pulls his fingers out, kissing down your neck as he moves to push down his boxers. He reaches around, pulling you closer to him before you hold his cock steady, allowing him to slip in.

You drag your hand up his chest, pressing it in as he thrust upward into you, causing you to gasp out.

Your leg tightens around him, tilting your head to press your lips to his. His hand holds your waist, moaning into your mouth.

He rests his forehead on yours, his jaw slack as his thrusts pick up, pulling more moans from you.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, “Feels so good.” You whimper, “So good.”

He nods, his grip tightening, “Better than I’ve ever imagined, ma.” He closes the space, your lips moving in a slow heated make out.

He rolls over, his body hovering over yours and his thrusts pick up.

Your legs tighten around his waist, your back arching off the bed, “S-shit, shit.” You drag your nails up his back, earning a low groan from him.

“You sound so hot.” You moan out, doing it again so you can hear more. You smirk when he puts his lips right to your ear, moaning out lowly, “So do you, baby.”

You tighten your legs around his waist, moaning out at your walls squeeze his cock, “I’m- fuck, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me, ma.” He brushes hair from your face, “God you feel so good.” He kisses down your next, leaving a hickey on your delicate skin, “Fuck.”

Your body tenses and jolts beneath him, moaning out as you cum around him, gasping and whimpering as he guides you through your high.

He gets a few more thrusts in before he’s pulling out and spilling his cum onto your waist.

You rest your head back, smiling up at the ceiling as you pant, “Thanks for not.. making it weird.” You look at him as he stands up to get you something to clean up with.

“It’s not weird if I wanted to, too. You know?” He tosses you a towel and grabs his sweats, placing them back on before he gathers your clothes, “I’m just finally glad we did something about it.”

“Oh so you were keeping it a secret that you liked me, too?” You raise your brows, smirking as you put on your shirt.

“Well, from you, yeah. Wasn’t sure how you felt about me. Always calling me your best friend.” He laughs slightly and you roll your eyes, “Hey. I can’t.. you did it to me!”

“I’m just shocked Matt or Nick didn’t say anything to you sooner, they picked on me about it all the damn time.”

You nod, “Me freakin, too, Chris.” You laugh and then suddenly gasp, “Fuck. I was supposed to order dinner!”

Chris looks around, moving the blankets to try and find your phone, “Oh! Found it!” He stands up, handing it back to you and you sigh, “What did you want?”

“Mine should still be in the order history, just get that.” He smiles and you nod, standing up to put on the rest of your clothes.

There’s a knock at the door and Chris walks over, opening it, “Hello.”

“Just checking to see if dinner is on its way.” Nick leans against the door frame, “If it’s even coming.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be here.” You look at Nick, placing the order for everyone.

“Oh I see, someone finally seen the video, did they not?” Nick laughs and Chris roll his eyes, turning to walk back to his bed and sit down, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah? Those scratches on your back say different.”

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Matt’s will be out soon! I love you all so much, thank you for reading! Catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 9

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Cassian notices that Y/N skipped training after their night at Rita's. The group heads to the human realms and Y/N reunites with old friends...

Content Warning: Familial trauma/drama, degradation (Consensual), power imbalance, slight fat shaming, so much angst, mentions of death, Nesta being absolutely cruel. Foot stuff (Its quick I promise).

Word Count 4.5k

A/N: The sneak peak I put up for this chapter got cut and is getting moved to chapter 10 because I decided to end this chapter very differently.

Unwavering Masterlist Chapter 8 ACOTAR Masterlist

Feyre and Rhys left early the next day and I didn’t feel the need to get up for training. I laid in my bed reading my book when there was a knock on my door, “Come in.”

The door creaking open, and Cassian walked in, I glance up to see him in his leathers, “Your sister left with Rhys to go see the weaver.” He leaned against the door frame, and I made an effort to not watch his biceps contort in his uniform. He smirked and flexed his arm, and I rolled my eyes.

My gaze fell back over my book, and I flipped the page, “You know I don’t know the significance of that. I’m sure Rhys or Feyre will tell me what they’re up to. Why are you here?” I hadn’t meant for there to be a bite in my voice.

“You didn’t come to training.” His tone was soft, and I fought my instinct to look up at him, “I wanted to make sure you were, okay?”

The sound of the page turning was the only noise in my room for a moment, I sighed and closed my book, “Yesterday was a lot.”  I looked at him and shrugged, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cassian remained silent, he moved to my armoire and my gaze shifted below to and took out my leathers and plopped them on the end of my bed. “Get dressed.”

“Cassian, I’m not in the mood.”

Cassian crossed his arms, “Tough.” The voice of a general talking to his subordinate, “We’re not training, we’re sparring. I expect you downstairs in five minutes.”

I crossed my arms, “What if I don’t come down?”

Cassian walked to the door, he turned back to me with a smirk, “I wouldn’t recommend it, you may not like what happens if you don’t.” He walked away, closing the door behind him. I glared at the door hoping the look seared into his back. I kicked the leathers of the bed and let myself lay back and let sleep consume me.

Cold water collided with my face shocking me up and out of my bed. Cassian stood in front of me with a bucket in his hand a cocky smile on his lips. The cold began to seep into my bones I had to clamp my teeth down to keep from chattering, “What was that for?”

Cassian bent down to pick up the leathers and pressed them into my chest focusing on my eyes and not the fact that my nipples had hardened from the cold and peeking out through my silk nightgown, “I gave you 10 minutes to come down, that was five extra minutes, and you still didn’t come down.”

I bared my teeth at him, and he only chuckled as if he wasn’t threatened by me, this male had seen the worst of humanity, went toe to toe with those people, I bet I barely posed as a threat to him. “I told you I don’t want to train.”

Cassian leaned down to my eye level the smile still lingering and his eyes gleamed with a challenge, “And I told you we’re not training, we’re sparring.” He rose back to his full height as his face softened. “Look, sometimes words don’t help, but you have energy and pent-up things you need to get out. Lucky for you I know someone who can take that on.”

I sighed, annoyed that he was right. I felt the water dripping from my hair and an idea formed in my head, I gave him a saccharine smile, “Alright, Cassie,” I purred as he tilted his head no doubt, confused by the nickname. I’ll give it a chance,” I took a step closer to him, and I could see his neck work as he swallowed. “I am going to need to dry off first.” I shake my head, letting the loose drops of water fly, spraying him in the process.

Cassian took a step back, laughing as the water landed on his skin and his leathers. Once I stopped, I grinned at him satisfied with my work, the hurt of his rejection the night before fading away. “Your trouble, Princess, you know that?” His voice was warm and made the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

Trying to ease those flutters, I shrugged, feigning calm and collected, “I’ll list it right under bad listener.” He laughed again and the sound was so joyous that a part of me would kill anyone who tried to take his joy away. I pressed my hand on his chest and could feel his heartbeat speed up. “Go on, General, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’ll have another bucket ready just in case.”  He winked and walked out once more, leaving me to change.

I met him in the backyard of the town house Cassian’s back was to me his wings relaxed the leather pants covering his ass perfectly. “I can feel you staring.” Cassian’s voice made me jump.  He turned to her with a knowing look on her face, “Enjoying the view.”

I crossed my arms and pooped a hip out, “I see an asshole, who threw water on me to get out of bed, I’m not sure if enjoying the view is what I would call it.”

Cassian raised his hand and motioned two fingers, “Come here, Princess.”

I took a step toward him, my neck straining as I had to look up to him. He opened his palms out a silent command. I placed my hands in his and he led me over to the seat. Taking out some white wrappings and he began wrapping one of my hands. I stared at his face and how there is a wrinkle that peaks through when he concentrates. His lips form in a tight line as he ties off my one hand and begins the other. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, though you did just ask me a question.” He looks up at me through his lashes.

I laughed, “I suppose I did.”

His smile remained on his face, finishing up wrapping my hand. “What’s your question?”     

“Did you always want to be a general?” I looked down and noticed that he was still holding my hand.

The little wrinkle returns as he thinks about the question. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t plan to be living the life I do now. When I was a child, I tried to make sure I survived the next day. I never allowed myself to dream of anything more. Not even when Rhys found me in my ratty tent.”

His eyes grew distant, and I pressed my hands against his cheek, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have pried.” His eyes met mine and that distant look disappeared as he twisted his head and lightly pressed his lips to the palm of my hand and my breath hitched.

“Don’t apologize, Princess. We can talk about my childhood at a later time. We’re focusing on you now.” He led me to the mat he had set up. He placed padded mittens on his hands. “Now remember what I taught you and just hit my pads as hard as you can.”

I held up my fist the way he showed me I didn’t move to throw a punch. “What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll live, Sweetheart. I’m not easily breakable.”

I glared, “And I am?”

“Did I say that? No. Now come on.” His voice was firm but still gentle. I threw the first punch,           “Good again!” I punched the other hand. He keeps praising me and encourages me to go harder. “Now tell me what’s bothering you.”

Continuing my punches, the words tumbled out “I’m anxious about going back to the human realm and seeing my sisters. I’m terrified about this impending war.” The words kept pouring out, “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. I’m terrified that when Feyre outlives me, she’s going to forget about me. That everyone here will forget me when I die.” I dropped my fists.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian started reaching out to me and I stepped out of reach. His face fell slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and before I could run to my room, Rhys and Feyre winnowed to the backyard and Feyre looked ready to throttle Rhysand as she walked inside. Refusing to meet Cassian’s gaze, I followed after Feyre.

I walked into her room, and she was flinging various objects around her room. “Feyre? What happened?”

My twin paused and looked at me, “He almost had me killed. The weaver almost killed me. For a stupid ring!”

I felt the familiar scrape against my shield. I let him in. You almost killed my sister for a ring?

That’s a bit dramatic. The ring was an object to test if the sentiment of like calls to like. The ring is also very sentimental to me.

In what way?

It was my mother’s.

Before I could say anything to him, he left my mind and I put my shield back up. “He is insufferable. How do you enjoy his company? He looked smug when I met him out like he was surprised I survive.”

“He is kind, Fey. Also did he look smug or was he proud because not only did you get the ring, but you also got out using the skills that him and Cassian have been teaching you.” I paused, “Also, despite what you believe he is lovely to stare at.” I give her a wink.

She paused and sat on the bed with an exasperated sigh, and I took a moment to look at my sister. Feyre has gained some of the weight back that she lost after we came back from Under the Mountain. She had been sleeping the dark circles that had stained under her eyes were gone. She was finally healing. I smiled happy that life was coming back into those eyes. “I guess he is quite beautiful. Don’t tell him I said it though. He would never let me live it down,” She smiled.

I snorted and then sadness overtook me at my confession to Cassian. One day she will be walking this world alone, when my mortality takes me to whatever comes after death. Would she miss me? Would she find happiness here and be able to simply move on. Our relationship was not perfect but when her neck snapped, I wasn’t sure I was going survive this life without her. Hopefully, Cassian, Azriel and Rhys will take care of her and make sure she lives when I’m gone.

Feyre slammed me into her chest. “Stop that.” Her face was wet with tears. “Just stop. My life would be nothing without you.”

I blinked and hugged her back, “What?” Had I said those things outside?

She pulled away quickly, “Nothing.” She wiped her tears. I sighed, “So you were fighting with Cassian?”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

“You spend a lot of time with him?”

Another nod, “Yup.”

Feyre raises an eyebrow, “I assume you enjoy his company?”

I laughed, “Feyre, just ask what you want to ask.”

“What’s going on between you two, her eyes went doe eyed with curiosity that it reminded me of Elain.

“We’re friends, he helps me train and we hang out sometimes. Is that why he almost kissed you last night?”

“How?” I asked I thought about who would tell her Azriel wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Mor.” we said in unison. We made eye contact and began laughing.

“I don’t know Fey, he seemed relieved that Mor stepped in. As if he was going to make a grave mistake. Though I enjoy his company, talking with him is easy.”

Feyre nods, “And quite handsome.”

I began to think about his warm hazel eyes and his morning stubble or his raven hair. “Handsome doesn’t begin to cover it.” I look over to Feyre and there is a gleam in her eye and a smirk playing on her lips. “What?”

“You got it bad.” I threw the closest pillow at her, and she caught with, with a cackle. The laughter fades and Feyre leaned her head on the headboard. “Rhys says we’re going to the human realm tomorrow. You, me, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel.”

Dread hit me. The idea of seeing Nesta and Elain made my skin crawl. “It’s going to be a shit show.”

Feyre’s face grimaced as she nodded. “Indeed.”

***

The next day the five of us approached the edge of the forest and the manor my sisters were staying in was in view. Rhys is the first to speak, “I’ll put the glamour on us until you give us the okay to come in.” Feyre nodded, dressed in a fine black chiffon dress with silver lining the dress. I opted for A Black satin gown off the shoulder gown, A blood red belt wrapped around the waist with a bow on the back -compliments to Rhysand- kohl lined my eyes and there was a sheen to my lips.

A hand wrapped around mind the red siphon gleaming from the sun peaking through the trees. “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question.

“What makes you say that?” I questioned.

“You’ve been wringing your hands and tearing at your nails since we crossed the border. You were fidgeting in my arms the whole flight here.” He gave my hand a comforting squeeze. “A lot has happened since you last seen them it’s okay to feel these feelings.”

“Thanks, Cassian.” I smiled up at him and with the illumination of the sun behind him he looked like a deity.

He smiled back a full grin this time and kissed the top of my hand. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?”

My hear rate sped up and heat crawled to my cheeks. “I don’t think so.”

He smiles, “You look absolutely radiant, Princess.” He looked over to Feyre, “Now go, I’ll be right here should you need me.”

I nodded and I looked at Az and Rhys, Az gave a nod like he understood the challenges of visiting family, and Rhys gave a wink. I walked to Feyre, and we reached the front door, and I took a deep breath and felt the nice breeze and I could have sworn the scent of leather and sandalwood wafted through my nostrils and calmed me.

A maid had opened the door and her mouth fell, “The Archeron Twins,” She murmured in shock. She stepped out of the way for us to walk in. “Please follow me. Your sisters will be so pleased to see you.”

She walked us into a sitting room, Nesta sat on a lounge sofa reading a book, Her gray dress accentuated her curves, her face had a regal grace. Elain was in a chair working on some embroidery, in a pink tulle gown and her hair pinned halfway up with some flowers from her garden, no doubt. “Ladies, your sisters have come home.” The maid announced bowing and walking away from the foyer.

Our sisters’ heads snapped up. Nesta had a cool calculating stare assessing our attire and Elain’s face lit up with joy. She rose and ran, closing the space between us and pulling us both in her arms and I’m stunned by how tightly she hugged us. “Welcome!” She withdrew from the embrace and gripped out hands and Elain took note of the tattoos on our collar bones and the one on Feyre’s arm. “Those are beautiful.”

I smiled, Elain was always kind and always found beauty in everything. Her scent of wildflowers causes my eyes to water. “It’s good to see you, Elain.” Nesta rose and my eyes darted toward her, preparing myself for her to pounce if need be. She stuck her nose up as she approached every bit of the queen, she deemed she should be.

“I’m surprise you’re here.” Nesta said her standard Icy tone. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m surprise you’re both alive.”

Feyre nodded, “We have a lot to tell you.”

Nesta held down a glare, “So speak.”

I was about to combat her command, but Feyre was the one to speak and she told them everything. Under the mountain, Tamlin sending me to my death, how he locked her up in the house, how we both ended up in the Night Court and all the details we know of the upcoming war.

“Why are you here?” Nesta asked not cutting corners and if she felt anyway of Feyre and I facing death she didn’t show it.

“We need you to open the manor to our friends. High Fae. They would like to have a meeting here with the Human Queens. However, they are stubborn gentlemen, who would like to ask you themselves and of course meet you and thank you for even consideration.” I said straightening my posture preparing myself for the verbal lashing.

“No.” Nesta said firmly not even looking at me. Here we go.

“What?”

“Elain gets married in a month to the Lord’s son. I will not risk this wedding for your silly war.”

“We should help.” Elain spoke up and we all turned to look at her. “Nesta, if the wall comes down, there may not be a wedding.”

I smiled to Elain as Nesta mumbled, “Fine, we’ll send the servants out for the next two days.”

I leaned closer to Elain, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Elain smiled and showed her ring and Feyre, and I noticed the Iron ring adorned her finger, “His name is Graysen.”

I took a sharp breath, “Lord Graysenn?” I asked and Elain nodded enthusiastically and began going into the details of the wedding.

“Look at our good little maid, Xavier.” Graysen’s voice chuckled as I was on my knees the black dress uniforms his family required for me rising, my tongue grazing against the leather of his boot. Bits of mud and gravel getting into my mouth. “She is working so hard for her family.” He shoves his boot farther into my mouth and I begin to suck as he chuckled. “So hard, tell me what your siblings would say if they found out that you were drooling all over yourself just to make sure food was on the table.”

Muffled noises came from my mouth as drool dripped down to my cleavage that my uniform exposed.

Xavier petted my hair, “So good, maybe if she’s really good, I’ll give her those kisses she craves.” An involuntary moan came out of me, “Oh she likes that idea.” He chuckled. Hands were around my waist pulling me back, as Graysen pulled the boot from my mouth, and had me leaning against his firm chest, “Go ahead and swallow for us, pretty girl.” I did what I was told, and Xavier sang praises in my ear. “How lucky that you got this new maid, Graysen.” I looked at the man’s sharp blue eyes, his blonde hair pulled back in a bun. His thumb grazed my hip in swiping motions. Having been together for a few months his beauty and sharp features

Graysen smirked, “Yes indeed,” Graysen lifted my chin, “Do you like working for me Y/N?”

I nod, “I appreciate you offering me work.”

“Anything for my best friend’s girl.” He patted my cheek. “You can go home, after the rest of my boots get a spit shine.”

“Yes, my lord.” I smiled as Xavier’s hands wandered up my thigh, his teeth nibbling the shell of my ear.

“Xavier, please don’t distract her like you did last week. I had to doc her some of her pay.” Xavier gave him a nod and with that the lord’s son left.

Xavier waisted no time leaving kisses up and down my neck, “Xavier, I need to get this work done.”

“Later,” He growled and kissed me passionately. I moaned into his mouth and his tongue slipped in his hand groping my clothed breast. “You are delicious,” He moves to my jaw and my ear, “I’m really glad I met you.”

I smiled, “Me too, Bab-“he silenced me with a growl and a searing kiss.

“Y/N,” I shook the memory from my head to face my twin concern schooling her features, “Where did you go?”

I shook my head burying the memory farther down. “Nowhere at all.” I smiled but Nesta looked at me, her head tilted as if she could sniff out my lie.

***

The servants were gone, and all three Illyrian warriors sucked up all the air in the room. When they entered, I naturally gravitated toward the General. And what has become a habit is his wing curved around me slightly. Nesta stared at us in silence, no detail going unnoticed about her new guests.

“Nesta, we can’t thank you enough, for your hospitality.” Rhysand bows and Nesta lifts her chin. “We come here to ask for a favor.”

“You want to have me host a meeting here with the human queens. My sisters did fill me in.” Nesta’s response was short. I glanced over at Elain and noticed that she was entranced with Azriel and his wings.

Rhys, Feyre and Nesta continued with their conversation when I felt a nudge.  I looked over to Cassian and he had an Orange in his hand and a slice held out for me chewing a slice of his own. I grab the slice and take a bite letting the citrus flavor consume me. He plops another slice in his mouth and picks a slice for me and he continued to do that until the fruit was gone. He threw the peels away and when he returned, he whispered in my ear, “The key to withstanding long meetings is bringing food.”

I stood on my tippy toes and whispered back, “Makes sense especially if each person in the room likes to hear themselves talk.”

He chuckled lowly, “I hope you never have to go to a High Lord’s meeting it’s a room full of people who like to hear themselves talk.”

“Sounds miserable.”

Cassian grinned, “Absolutely insufferable.”

I hadn’t even notice that Elain had left but her voice boomed, “Dinner is ready.”

***

Dinner had been tense. I was tucked between Rhys and Cassian, Feyre sat across from me. The males ate in silence and Elain was asking Azriel questions that he was kind enough to answer about his shadows. Eating my meal, I looked over to notice Feyre made a face as she bit into the food.

“Is our food not good enough for you now?” Nesta questioned with an accusatory look as if Feyre thought little of her. I groaned feeling the pain pulsing in my head.

“Just different than what we have back in Prythian.” Feyre muttered looking down at her plate.

Nesta turned a pointed look to me, “What about you? Is the food still good to you since you’re not them?”

“Can we not do this please.” I pleaded, “We haven’t seen either of you in a year. Please I’m begging. Drop it.”

Elain sat quietly, focusing on her own food, and Nesta clearly decided she wanted to lash out. “I will not. You come here, jeopardize our social standing here, and you two suddenly want to act better than us. I can tell you must enjoy the food, considering you're bigger than I saw you last. And even coming here in matching colors with this rabid beast, it's beneath you, really.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, nothing new. Nesta was always the first to criticize my weight. She had been doing that for years. A hand gripped my knee and gave it a squeeze, I didn’t need to look to know it was Cassian.

“What are you looking at?” Nesta sneered her gaze meeting Cassian.

“A wicked, vile, woman, who would let her two baby sisters go out in the forest alone to help provide for the family. While she sat and did nothing. Feyre and Y/N were willing to lay down their life to save and protect my people. Both are willing to do it again, so you don’t have to go to war. So, excuse me if I’m not pleased that you are choosing to insult these two remarkable females in my presence. As for Y/N being in my colors. I haven’t made a claim against her. I didn’t even know she was going to wear it though the colors suit her beautifully. Also, there is nothing wrong with gaining weight and muscle, the more of her to love, the better.”

Nesta rose and crossed her arms, “You’re a fool. Do you know that? Aligning yourself with Feyre is one thing. She has excellent survival skills and those could be useful, but Y/N? Death follows her everywhere she goes. She killed our mother.” She gave me a pointed look and it felt like my lungs were going to give out. I couldn’t even feel Cassian’s grip tighten. “She killed a debt collector attacking our useless father. If you three are wise, you would leave her here in the human realm before she becomes your doom. And if you don’t than I wonder why the humans ever feared the fae in the first place.” She turns to me, and tears threaten to come down. “I wish it was you that died that day. Not mother.”

Elain and Feyre rose up from their seats, “NESTA,” they said in unison. My legs were not moving at my command as I jolted from my chair and ran out of the dining hall and out of the manor entirely, ignoring my name being called out.

My feet were moving of their own accord, ignoring the cold bite of the evening as I pushed hard and kept moving. Once I finally stopped and took a breath I looked up and found myself in our old cabin. The wood splintered from when Tamlin barged in, the chipped paint of Feyre’s work. The smell brought back memories of late nights, stiff necks, and pain. The depths I went to just to make sure we had some money on the days Feyre couldn’t catch game.

 I walked into our bedroom, the dresser calling out like a beacon. I sat in front of it and took in my sister’s work, flowers for Elain, Flames for Nesta and Feyre and I shared the third dresser which was painted with a night sky and a cabin with a shadow by the window. Nothing indicating where I belonged.

I wished you died instead of her. The emotions of the day took hold and deafening sobs unleashed from my body as I covered my face in my hands. Wondering what I ever did to cause Nesta that much pain. My sobs were so loud I didn’t hear the door creak open, but I heard footsteps. “Please go away, I don’t want to talk.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” My spine sat up straight at the familiar voice, “I so desperately want to talk to you, Baby.” I turned to find Xavier in the doorway. His hair cropped short, his white uniform pristine and four gashes scarred above and below his cold blue eyes. My breathing was coming in short rapid, spurts.

Another set of footsteps followed, and a hooded figure walked in. Lowering his hood the moonlight revealed another familiar face, Elain’s now fiancé, Graysen, his smile sinister, “Hello, Y/N.”

Chapter 10

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94 @thehighlordishere @jenniferpendragon @ray4hotchner @phoenix666stuff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 3

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Another thankless day of serving cold cuts and cheese to the general public as you ready to tear your hair out. You don’t see how anyone could make such a fuss about a trip to the deli but the locals have a way of exacerbating any simplicity. You’re just happy to be free. 

The bus is late. You stand at the curb and bounce on your heels. You just want to lay down. The lack of sleep is starting to split your skull. 

You yawn and watch a truck blow by. It’s a sleepy old town, nestled between farmland and stretches of dirty roads. The sort of backwoods you don’t drive through after dark. It’s so dull you could fall asleep on your feet. 

A sudden gust of air rips through the sky and the unusual whirlwind circles you. You look up through slitted eyes as dirty speckles across your face. You furrow your brow as lights and flames glow as a red figure lands in front of you.

The electric blue haze goes out and your faced with the suit of crimson and gold. You grip your purse strap and gulp. You haven’t checked your phone yet. You couldn’t have predicted this. 

“Shit.” You mutter. 

His helmet snaps back and he smirks. The silver streaks in his dark hair puff out and he smooths them down. He puts his hand on his hip and scoffs, “name’s Tony Stark, thanks.” 

You cringe and cross your arms. “We met.” 

“Yeah, I remember you. Nearly forgot before everything blew up. You know, this thing...” he pauses to take his phone out. “Hasn’t shut up all fucking day. I got lawyers down my throat--” 

“Your phone is blowing up? My house blew up.” You sneer. 

“Okay, relax. It was a trailer. I said I’d replace it--” 

“Then do it.” 

“Ooh, spicy. I didn’t guess you to be the type but after seeing your little online storytelling, I shoulda guessed.” 

“It’s the truth. That’s it.” You turn to watch for the bus. You’re aware of the few people slowing to stare at the man in his techno-suit. 

“I mean, a little gratitude here, honey. I’m more than happy to slap a new box in the lot but you don’t gotta be this way about it.” He derides. You look at him from the corner of your eyes and scowl. “At least a smile. Bet you’re gorgeous when you smile.” 

He winks and you flinch. Really? 

“Fine. Once we have a new trailer, I’ll delete the post. Sounds pretty fair to me.” 

“Now. Take it down now and then we can go shopping for a new train car,” he chirps. 

You frown and face him. “It’s just a post.” 

“I got a reputation, sweetheart. I’m important that way. I know you might not be able to fathom that but one busted up hellhole is nothing compared to what I do for this planet. Didn’t you see me on the TV, handing out lollipops to hurricane survivors? What are you doing besides whine on the internet?” He stares you down, his expression turning sinister as his grin fades. 

“If it’s not a big deal, then it shouldn’t take much, should it?” You challenge. 

“Wow, you sure are mouthy, aren’t you?” 

“I’m tired.” You peer down the street again. “I worked a full shift and my feet hurt. You wouldn’t know about that, would you? With your penthouse and your dad’s money.” 

“I earned my company.” He snarls. “You watch where you’re stepping, sweetheart. I’m being nice. I flew all the way back to this ditch, so let’s not play dirty.” 

Your heart races. You don’t know why you’ve said so much. Maybe because you’ve worn a customer service smile all day and you’re all out of fucks to give?

And what do you have left to lose? A family that treats you like a gnat flying around their heads and a musty old futon. Your life wasn’t great before but damn if he didn’t make it a whole lot worse. 

“You do whatever. You’re Tony Stark. Iron Man.” Your tone is deflated and monotone. “I can’t do anything about it, can I? Just whine on the internet?” 

You step further down the sidewalk and stare at the approaching headlights. The bus is finally there. Even if he really means to replace the dusty old shithole, you don’t need his self-aggrandized kindness. Not if this is how it’s delivered. 

You pull out your bus fare as you sway beneath the sign. A sharp noise tweaks your ear and you’re seized in a metal vice. Your arms are trapped against your sides as Tony zooms up into the sky, the air whipping around your face as you holler in horror. 

“What-- are—you—doing?” You shriek as you wriggle, kicking into the empty void around you. 

“Sweetheart,” his voice rises from behind his helmet. “You’re gonna wanna be still. If I drop you, you’re gonna hit the ground like a bug on a windshield.” 

“What the fuck?” You exclaim and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Just givin’ you a lift home. Like a nice guy would do.” He chuckles. “Now don’t breathe too heavy up here. At this altitude... well...” 

You put your head down, shielding it against the shoulder plate of his suit, and you bend your arms to cling to him. You have no other choice but to hold on for dear life.

You get his point. Tony Stark is more than money. He can do whatever the hell he wants. 

[baronessvonglitter]

Maneater: Chapter 1

Max Lord x OFC | WC: 2,372

Summary: Dreading a dinner with his fiancée, Max meets her daughter and decides it might be worth it to stick around.

WARNINGS: 18+Only! Mature. Engagement of convenience. Age difference (Max is 35, Linda is 65, Nina is 22). Male gaze. Mention of a bj. Mention of sex toys. One (1) innocent(?) lick - makes sense in context. Hard-on AND blue balls. Fantasizing. Crude sexual hand gesture. Max is not a dad here (sorry not sorry).

A/n: The love I've seen for our Maxi-Muffin has been few and far between. I want to give a great big thank you to @everybodylovedcontractors who is probably the biggest Max Lord girlie I know 💟and who was my cheerleader and inspiration while writing this. Plus I just wanted to delve deep into the 1980s.. one of my favorite decades. I set this story in Miami because I feel like it's the city with the most 80s vibes that I envisioned for this story. Also yes, each chapter is a lyric from Hall & Oates' "Maneater" - one of the best songs from the decade. Also-also, Linda is 65 years old.. which isn't all that old by today's standards, but in the 80s, 65 might as well have been 100.

While I'm curating the playlist for this series, I know some music may not technically be out at the exact time of this story, so I'm just playing with the timeline a bit, it's all just for funzies anyway 😊

Series Masterlist

"Mr. Lord, you have a call on line one," Raquel's voice chirps over the intercom.

"Who is it?" Max asks, hope coloring his voice. The office is too huge, too quiet. He envisions a whole bullpen full of desks, phones ringing off the hook and employees.. his employees, eagerly answering those calls, making successful sales, generating cash flow, making him money.

"It's your fiancée, Linda St. James," Raquel replies. "It sounds urgent."

"Great," he mutters, dreading this call. He dreads all her calls. He lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Put her through."

"Does my Maxi-Muffin miss me?" Linda's sickly sweet voice comes over the line. At sixty-five years old she's one of the richest widows in the country, a real estate tycoon and almost twice Max's age. "I wanted to tell you I'm still in Dallas, but my flight should arrive just in time for us to have dinner at mine tonight."

"Oh Linda my dear, I am positively quivering with anticipation of seeing you again," Max lies through his teeth, lining up a shot on his desktop mini pool table.

Linda continues. "I was thinking.. over dinner we could talk about that business loan I want to give you," she says in a sing-song voice.

Damn, the woman knows how to dangle a carrot. And I'm just her pet, her toy, something to show off to her friends.

"Nothing would make me happier than to enjoy a fine dinner with the most.. with such a.. with my lovely bride-to-be," he manages to choke out. Ass kissing comes with the territory of business and finance, but his lack of attraction to his fiancée somehow keeps him from exaggerated compliments. "But if my dear Linda wants to discuss financing my future, then I won't stop her."

"You know I love nothing more than to help you," her voice drips with sickly sweetness. "See you tonight at the mansion, honey muffin." She makes kissing sounds over the phone before she hangs up.

Max hangs up with a groan of disgust.

That evening he's in the backseat of his town car, smoothing through the post-rush hour traffic. He checks his hair in the mirror, turning up the radio as the new Hall & Oates cassette plays in the sound system.

"A she-cat tamed by the purr of a Jaguar," he sings along to himself as the car finally stops in the circular driveway of Linda's mansion, all lit up against the lavender and orange of the impending night. It's early summer and already it's sweltering, the dipping of the sun doing little to cool him down. Music from a boombox can be heard faintly, along with shouts and splashes from what he guesses are coming from Linda's Olympic-size pool in the back. With a sigh Max presses the intercom button at the front door and waits for Linda to buzz him in.

The machine quickly crackles back and a young woman's voice is heard: "Be right there!"

Several minutes later the door is opened by a stunning woman in a red bikini and espadrilles, toweling off her long black hair, a pair of red Wayfarers perched on her head. "You're not the pizza guy," she says with a slight pout.

Max forces his eyes from her lithe, bronzed body, still dewy with pool water, and meets her gaze, but it's there he's trapped by the upward, feline tilt of her velvet brown eyes. "No, actually I'm here to see Linda.. is she home?"

"Her flight got delayed. She won't be here until after midnight." The young woman shrugs, seemingly posing in the doorway, body nearly on full display and from the looks of it she's enjoying his attention. "And who are you?" she asks, tilting her head at him.

He doesn't know whether to be relieved or to dread a future meeting with his bride. "I'm Maxwell Lord, Linda's future spouse," he introduces himself, laying on the charm with his megawatt smile. "I have a scheduled dinner meeting with her tonight."

She takes his proffered hand, her eyes lighting up with mirth. "Oh? You're having a scheduled dinner meeting with your future spouse? Sounds romantic." She giggles and takes a drag off the cigarette she's holding. "Come in. She'd be pissed at me if I slammed the door on my future stepdad." She smiles, her teeth showing off an attractive gleam. "I'm her daughter Nina."

Max is captivated by her full lips, which look like they'd be fun to kiss.

Though he's been here a handful of times already, Nina leads him through the house, Nina saunters with an ease, a grace, and even a particular carelessness, as if she'd rather bump into and topple over a priceless vase than to steer clear of it. "You can stick around if you want," she says over her shoulder. "I didn't know Linda was expecting company, so I invited a few friends over for a swim."

"When Linda said she had a daughter I assumed she meant one young enough for boarding school," Max says, catching up with her long strides.

"She never even bothered to mention you to me." Nina shrugs, stubbing out her cigarette on an expensive looking Murano glass ashtray.

"If you'll beg my pardon, you look nothing like her. I was expecting someone more.."

"White?" Nina grins, and it makes Max's heart want to stop.

"Well, yes, actually." This gives him the chance to scope her out. She's blessed with an athletic build, her svelte body kissed by the sun. Her hips curve oh-so-delicately to her slender waist where the still-dripping ends of her raven-black hair stick to her flawless skin. Her breasts are perky and firm, the points of her nipples poking through her bikini top. Max lets his eyes drift there, lingering a little before roving upwards to Nina's face, her plush red-painted lips already curved in a smirk, her eyes holding mischief when their gazes meet again.

"I'm adopted," she answers. "Thank fucking god."

She opens wide the patio French doors to reveal the pool party: "Hot Girls in Love" by Loverboy blasts from the boombox as college kids splash in the pool or lazily tan themselves on one of the dozens of sunning chairs, either asleep or drunk or high.

"Not the party you were expecting, huh?" Nina smiles at Max, taking his hand and leading him outside.

"Do you know everyone here?" Max asks, subtly eyeing some of the coeds, but his attention goes straight back to his hostess.

"Not really. But I can't stand being alone. So I just let people come over. I'm a modern-day Gatsby."

His brows raise. "You've read F. Scott Fitzgerald?"

Nina takes a beer and cracks the tab open, taking a small sip. "You think because I'm rich and hot that I'm stupid as well?"

Max pales. "No, I didn't mean--"

"Relax. Have a drink," she says, grabbing another beer for him, but not before placing the cold can on her chest, sweeping over her collarbones and dipping into the plentiful cleavage. "Need to cool off a little first," she says, handing him the drink at last.

His eyes nearly pop out of his head but he maintains a degree of cool, offering a slight smirk in return, his gaze dropping to the lush valley between Nina's breasts, imagining gathering the droplets of water there with a sweep of his tongue.

"Mr. Lord? Mr. Lord," an insistent voice is in his ear and he turns to see Linda's maid. "Forgive me, I couldn't hear your arrival over all the noise." She shoots a glaring look at Nina. "If you prefer you may wait inside, where better refreshment is available." She wrinkles her nose at the beer in his hand.

"Thank you, Paulette," he murmurs. "I may stay out here a moment longer. The air is so nice right now." He casts another furtive glance at his fiancée's daughter.

"As you wish," the maid says, casting him a snobby look before going inside.

Nina glides back into the water, sharing a floatie with another girl. Max's fantasy goes into overdrive as he watches the two bikini-clad college girls snuggled so close together.

"Who's the dweeb?" her friend Tammy asks.

"Another one of Linda's poor suckers. Supposedly he's her fiancé," Nina groans.

"He's kinda cute.. he's that hotshot from those dumb commercials, isn't he?"

"That's right," Nina answers, watching him covertly through her sunglasses. Max walks around aimlessly, talking to people here and there but this group isn't exactly his age range.

"Maybe I'll blow him," she says. "He seems like the type to be humbled by a BJ."

Tammy laughs, splashing her with water. "If you can't humble him, no one can."

Max is enjoying his last moments of freedom before Linda is due to arrive, his eyes drinking in as much of Nina as he can. He watches her glide under the aquamarine water, surfacing just where he stood at the edge of the pool, like Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

"Linda's town car is driving up," she tells him as he admires her: shiny and wet, the pool water glistening on her dark lustrous hair. "You should probably go inside and get ready for your romantic dinner." She smirks, going underwater again.

"Wait.. how did you know she's coming?" he asks, but Nina's already gone.

"Max! Where are youuuu?" Linda's voice rings out, making him cringe. She appears in her prim grey Armani power suit, pearls at her ears and throat, silver hair short and feathered. Max can't help thinking if she was even twenty years younger he'd find her more attractive.

"I see my daughter invited her friends over," she smiles with hidden disgust at the younger people infringing on her personal property. "Nina dear, have everyone gone immediately," she says, finding her daughter drying off.

"Will she be joining us for dinner?" he asks, hoping not to sound too hopeful.

Nina catches it as she passes by and a mischievous glint sparks her eye. "I'd love to get to know the man you're going to marry," she says agreeably.

Linda looks like she'd rather eat dirt, but she smiles. "Of course. Tell your friends to leave, then get ready to dine with us."

Max suffers through the humiliation of Linda feeding him like he's a child. No matter that he doesn't like asparagus-- Linda feeds him extra helpings. "It's good for your digestion," she says, patting the small bulge of his belly.

He smiles, chewing the horrid greens. "My Linda always looks out for me.."

Nina watches from her seat across from Max, stifling a smirk on her rouged lips. And Max can't even tell Linda no, because she knows he needs her. So, annoyed by her treatment of him, he knows better than to protest.

"I'm thinking, dear Maxy.." Linda coos.

His ears perk up. Now may be the time to discuss the loan she'll give him. He does his best to maintain his composure.

Linda continues, "We should save our business negotiations for after the wedding."

Max places his hands on the table, because he's very certain it's just turned.

"Oh.. dear Linda," he says with false sweetness that she seems not to pick up on. "I'd really hoped to get a good start before we're officially man and wife. And I thought to pay you back quickly for your generous loan, as sort of a wedding present."

Nina remains quiet through all this, moving her food around on her plate, a look of utter boredom on her beautiful face as she takes in the exchange. As usual, Linda acts as if she isn't even there. "May I be excused?" she asks, interrupting their little love fest.

Linda looks up. "Already?"

"As much fun as it is to watch you spoon-feed your fiancé who's young enough to be your son, I'd much rather be at Tammy's. I'm going to spend the night." She puts down her napkin, pushing her plate of uneaten food away.

"Fine, fine," Linda answers, not bothering to look at her daughter. "I hope you've at least cleaned your room. I can't tell you how embarrassed Paulette gets when she walks in and has to see your lacy underthings and.. sex toys strewn everywhere."

Max does his best not to crack a smile, though his blush is obvious when Nina casts her glace on him. She smirks, daring him to meet her eyes.

Paulette comes in to tell Linda she has a phone call, and the older woman throws her napkin down, giving Max a kiss on the cheek before leaving. "If you are very good you'll get dessert," she whispers before leaving to take her phone call.

"Ooh, dessert," Nina smirks. "It's a good thing I'll be out of the house. I wouldn't want to overhear anything that might make my imagination run wild." On those long legs she stalks over to Max, standing behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders. Her red lacquered nails gleam in the light of the overhead chandelier. "You're a man of style, aren't you?" she whispers. "Just be careful with this suit.. you've got a little something here." She leans in and lightly licks away a tiny bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth.

Max is glad for the dinner napkin resting in his lap though it's doing little to hide the growing erection she's giving him. After she goes upstairs and Linda returns from her call, his face is still pink, his brain still swimming with thoughts of Nina in that teeny bikini, holding his beer to her clevage. He imagines her polished fingers wrapping around his-

He's distracted by Linda once more, and feigns attention to her, ignoring the tiny ache in his balls as he softens from his earlier excitement. But the little minx that she is, his future stepdaughter traipses down the stairs, duffel bag in hand, a barely-there mini dress under her denim bedazzled jacket. Catching his glance she blows him a kiss, then sticks her tongue in her cheek, her fist going to her mouth, mimicking a blow job, giggling as she takes her leave through the front door.

Yeah, he's definitely gonna marry Linda now.

Music inspo for this chapter:

dividers by @strangergraphics & @plum98 👑

taglist: @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @whoaitspascal87

@djarinmuse @foreveratlantica-blog @a-loneywolf @chalterdh22

@elegantduckturtle @joelalorian @algressman16 @rafeysgirl5

@kissing-among-snowflakes (if at any time you want to be added or removed, please let me know 💗)

[chaeyoei]

Could I request jing yuan x fem_zhongli!reader? I think it would be fun to incorporate how much older she is and maybe spar with jing yuan and yanqing teaching them new moves? You could also add a bit of angst if you want with the fact that zhongli has admitted that with time, his memories do start to erode.

This is actually fuelling my brainrot. I'll incorporate the dragon part too. And other requests are coming out soon.

I kept her as a friend because the age gap bothered me alot. Warning: bad writing.

The situation was dire, the Denizens were wreaking havoc upon the ship. The Cloud Knights who remained strong, felt fear for the first time. What kind of tragedy would this bring?

All they could do was hold faith in their General and keep fighting with hopes high. Jing Yuan could the hope entrusted upon him by his subordinates but all seemed to be in vain. He was gravelly injured and his life was draining out of his body.

But with unknown fortune, appeared a figure that launched ginormous spears accompanied by meteors all raining on the enemy finishing it quickly.

Relief and suspicion overshadowed all his former emotions. Who was this figure? Most importantly, the motive behind their help. However he saw this same silhouette fall. He rushed forward to catch this unknown saviour, as he inched closer, he saw it was a woman who seemed to be half conscious. He held out his hands in time to catch this mysterious lady.

————

"She's fine." The Dragon Lady assured, her doe eyes darting from the unconscious woman on the bed to the General infront. "But, she's also a dragon and similar but different from us. I believe she's a sicon of Qilopoth(Preservation) as we are Long's(Premembrance) Sicons."

"A sicon of Preservation?" He titled his head. From what he witnessed in the battlefield, it looked more like you followed the path of the Hunt or Destruction rather than Preservation. But protecting also serves a form of Preservation.

A grumble came from the lady's mouth drawing both of their attention. "Looks like she's waking up, I'll leave you both to talk, General." Bailu took her leave.

"Where?" The lady mummered getting up. "You're in the Alchemy commision." Jing Yuan answered.

"I'm here to question you." He added.

"First question, what is your name?"

"Zhongli."

"Where do you hail from?"

"From Liyue."

That response made him speechless. Liyue as in the place where the Xianzhou Empire's origin were.

"Explain."

"Huh? I hail from Liyue.. that's it."

"How old are you?"

The lady fell silent. "600.."

"Don't lie. Liyue is a place where the Xianzhou Empire arrived and that was 5000 years ago. The planet of Teyvat was abandoned." He narrowed his and his tone only got stern.

"..6000."

"hmm.." He wasn't questioning the age but it felt like you were hiding something.

But all would come to light because you'd still have to attend the trail between the alliance and take responsibility. Your deeds may be good but they still need to know your intentions. A person who can showcase such power can also stab them in the back.

"That concludes as what the suspect had told." Jing Yuan finished his report.

"Very well. Lady Zhongli.. You admit that your home place is the Loufu. If you're as old as you admit, would mind telling the ruler of that period?" Marshal Hua started her questioning.

"Jade lady, Ningguang." You answered calmly.

"I believe you know what happened in that timeline as well?"

"Yes, the lord of Geo, Morax died in that period." You hoped she wouldn't catch you.

"Are you perhaps a descendant or successor of Morax?

"..Yes." You knew well that your lie would be caught soon enough.

"Let me revise history, the lord Morax, had no descendants or successors. It was later found that his death was just a masquerade as he stepped down from his position. What statment can you give to prove that you're him?" The Marshal's statement may sound rash but she wasn't wrong in the slightest. History states that Morax can change forms.

"..I have nothing to say in regard to that."

"Tell me your age again."

"11,000.."

And with some other questions, you were revealed to be the Ancient lord of money, Morax. But Mora really didn't have a value in this economy of credits.

"That concludes are trial. You are free to go."

————

"Phew." You could handle intense questioning very well but your age caught up to loads of time.

However, instead of a foreign traveler's recognition, you were given citizenship. You know the Alliance was making use of you but you always had the option to leave. Coming to basic needs, you'd be living in the Cloud Knights Quaters.

————

"hmmh.." The kid grumbled not being able to get his stance right.

"Your footing is wrong, you need to have a firm balance on the ground to get your strike correct." You fixed the young man's position.

"Do you also work the Cloud Knights?" The kid was interested in knowing your identity.

"So not only are you excelled in ancient literature but also weapon handling, though that doesn't come as a surprise, you did invent the methods of swordsmanship and pole arm handling that are used till this day." Jing Yuan appeared randomly.

"General!, You mean this lady?" The kid turned to you. "Greetings lord.. Lady of Geo." The kid bowed formally.

"You don't have to bow kid, I've long stepped down from that position."

"And humble as well."

This small interaction really sparked Yanqing's curiosity. He could ask as much questions as why even the trivial things mattered. As for Jing Yuan, his moves only got more perfect with your guidance. If Jingliu would've been here, she would've taken a liking to you even Dan Feng..

He sighed, these thoughts would never be possible. He looked at you who was looking at his weapon, commenting on it's quality and full of details quality.

"General! a mara wave is coming through." A knight informed.

"Advise the civilians to stay in their homes and form a stance around the creatures, don't let them escape." Jing Yuan ordered quickly.

A blade came through the formation, it's aim to lodge into the General's chest but it disseminated into the area when it met with impenetrable shield.

"General are you okay?" You asked.

Now he understood why you were form the path of preservation. "Yes."

You were old.. Ancient would be a better them. But your stories where better that those pesky writers in the Alying Sanctum.

You could be considered a role model and a person to go to. You had advice, were calm and just had that social butterfly effect.

But being old has it's downsides often. As your age increases, erosion casts it's effect. You forget trivial things and even names unless they were in your daily interactions.

"..." You groaned walking through the corridors.

"Do you need help, lady of Geo?" A passing Cloud Knight asked.

"..Do you remember where my room is?"

".. It's on the east wing close to the General's chamber. You're in the west wing."

"..oh. where is the east wing again?"

"Let me guide you."

Although the situation of you forgetting your wallet was funny, as it was also saddening that you would succumbed to life where you would forget everyone and everything.

In the Xianzhou terms, Mara wouldn't have an effect on you but at the cost that you would be forgetting bits of yourself and there's nothing you can do about it.

I tried my best to crossover elements from both games and something has happened to my english. Thos fancy words don't come out anymore. And it's so short...

[r-memberme]

deception | k.m

⎯⎯“Gaslighting implies a level of effort that I am simply not putting in. Deceiving you doesn’t require much.”

warnings: nothing, a bit of fluff

It all began with the suspiciously quiet afternoon. Too quiet. Klaus had been eerily well-behaved all day—no brooding, no cryptic remarks, and not even a single snarky comment about your choice of music while you cleaned. It was unnerving, really. Klaus Mikaelson didn’t just… behave.

“Alright,” you finally said, narrowing your eyes as you crossed your arms. “What did you do?”

Klaus glanced up from his sketchpad, his expression the picture of innocence. “Whatever do you mean, love?”

“I mean,” you said, stepping closer and gesturing vaguely to the general lack of chaos around you, “you’ve been too good today. Suspiciously good. So, spill.”

He smirked, tilting his head. “You wound me with your mistrust.”

“Klaus,” you warned, your voice dripping with suspicion.

He set his sketchpad aside, leaning back in his chair with an air of exaggerated nonchalance. “Perhaps I’m simply in a good mood.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, unconvinced. “And what, exactly, put you in such a good mood? Did you win a centuries-old grudge match? Find another way to antagonize Elijah?”

His smirk widened, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and sauntered over to you, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Must you always assume the worst of me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “When it comes to you? Yes.”

“Well,” he said, his tone mockingly affronted, “I’d hate to disappoint.”

“Which means you did do something,” you said, your suspicion sharpening into certainty. “What was it? Did you steal something? Lie to someone? Set a trap? Oh my god, did you compel someone again?”

Klaus chuckled, clearly enjoying himself now. “You’re quite creative with your accusations, I’ll give you that.”

You stepped closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Klaus Mikaelson, I swear if you’ve done anything—”

“I haven’t done anything,” he interrupted, his voice calm but his eyes glinting with mischief. “At least, nothing you need to worry about.”

That only made you more suspicious. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he said, his smirk growing impossibly smug, “that you should trust me.”

“Oh, trust you?” you scoffed. “You, the King of Schemes? The Original Deceiver?”

“I prefer ‘master strategist,’” he said smoothly.

You rolled your eyes. “Call it whatever you want, but I know you’re up to something.”

“Believe what you like, love,” he said, stepping around you and heading toward the kitchen. “But I assure you, I’ve done nothing to warrant this interrogation.”

“That is exactly what someone guilty would say!” you called after him.

Klaus stopped in the doorway, turning back to face you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“And you’re deflecting,” you shot back. “Now tell me what you did!”

He sighed dramatically, leaning against the doorframe. “If you must know, I might have… bent the truth earlier.”

“Bent the truth?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes.

“Yes,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “But only to spare you unnecessary distress.”

“Unnecessary distress?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “Klaus, what did you lie about?”

He smirked again, that infuriating, devil-may-care smirk that made you want to shake him. “Now, now,” he said, holding up a hand. “Let’s not throw around terms like ‘lie.’ It was more of a… selective omission.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Oh my god, just spit it out already!”

He tilted his head, his expression utterly unrepentant. “Alright, fine. I am not gaslighting you. I am lying to you.”

Your jaw dropped. “You just… admitted it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, shrugging. “Gaslighting implies a level of effort that I am simply not putting in. Deceiving you doesn’t require much.”

You stared at him, torn between laughter and exasperation. “Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how insane you sound?”

“Of course,” he said, completely unfazed. “But I stand by my point.”

“What—what even is this point?!” you demanded, throwing your hands in the air.

Klaus stepped closer, his smirk softening into something far more disarming. “My point, love, is that I would never go to such lengths to manipulate you. If I have something to hide, I’ll simply… hide it. No theatrics necessary.”

You blinked at him, utterly at a loss. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone that always made your heart skip a beat, “you adore me.”

You glared at him, but the heat in his gaze made it hard to maintain your indignation. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky indeed,” he murmured, his lips curving into a softer smile as he cupped your cheek. “But for what it’s worth, I only lie when it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Yeah?” you said, arching an eyebrow. “And who decides what’s necessary?”

He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “I do.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as you shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, brushing his lips against yours, “here you are.”

“Here I am,” you muttered, rolling your eyes even as you kissed him back.

As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. No matter how maddening he was, you couldn’t seem to stay away from him. And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t really want to.

[edgeray]

hi ray! for your requests, may i ask for arlecchino x gn!house of the hearth child reader where reader is feeling down for whatever reason, and tries their best not to alarm arlecchino or show signs, but she ends up finding out anyway and comforts them?

Stitching Back Joy

(Platonic Arlecchino x GN! Child! Reader)

A/N - Sure! My first platonic request, nice! I've yet wrote platonic Arlecchino x Reader, but I've been meaning to for a while, so thanks for this request. Not exactly sure how old you wanted reader to be, but I had reader to be pretty young, probably a tween or younger. Hope this one turns out okay!  Content warnings / info - reader is a child, reader is gn!, arle may be ooc but at least she's a good father. no warnings :) i named reader's toy if you don't mind, 1.1k words

You should have known better than to be rough-housing with your lifelong companion and favorite toy. However, you were stupid, and your siblings were just a touch too rough, and then there was a loud rip, as the leg of your plush was torn right off, the stuffing escaping out of it. Your siblings all gasped and paused their playing already. 

You stood with the other half of Benny, their other, in-tact leg dangling from your tight grasp around it. Your tiny heart was broken like Benny, and the corner of your eyes burned, tears welling. 

Benny had been with you since you were eight, around the time of your arrival at the House of the Hearth. During your first night, you were restless, tossing and turning, anxious because of the new environment even though Father was generous and the other children were kind. The next morning, when Father noticed the signs of a fitful sleep, she decided that you would benefit from an outing with her. 

That day, she brought you to a toy store and prompted you to select one. As your eyes scanned the shelves, one beady eyed expression caught your attention–a plush boot weasel. The House of the Hearth welcomed another new member that day, that being Benny the weasel, who was fixedly snug in your arms as you returned to the orphanage, no longer feeling like the only new sibling. Your closest best friend who has been with you on all your adventures around the House was now missing an arm. Benny who helped you sneak into the kitchen past curfew (only for you to be caught by Lyney), Benny who helped you make friends with the other children, Benny who was the only one who could hug you when you were sick was hurt. And now Benny was hurt. 

The boy who was holding the other leg of Benny quickly returned it to you, a million apologies spilling from his lips. You knew he was sincere, you knew he didn't mean to, but all you could do was gaze at the spilt stuffing at your feet, each ‘sorry’ flying past your head. 

You sit hunched over one of the desks in the House's library, attempting to bandage Benny's leg back while you sniffle, rubbing the wetness out of your eyes for the nth time. You know you shouldn't be crying, this wasn't a big deal after all, it was just some toy, you tried to reason yourself to stop the tears. Inserting the stuffing into Benny for the third time you push in the leg and try again, but like the previous two times, the limb always falls out. 

Your sight goes blurry as an onset of frustrated tears trailed down your cheeks. 

Then, you hear the familiar bell, the sound signaling to everyone in the House that it was meal time. You hastily wipe away your tears. You can't be seen crying over some toy, you couldn't bring him because you didn't want anyone to see that you were upset over a plush. You give one more glance towards Benny, promising that you'll bring food to them, before you leave for dinner, without them in your arms for the first time. You sit at your assigned chair of the long table, your dozen or so other siblings scrambling by, and Father approaches, taking her seat at the head of the table. 

The table is rowdy as per usual, your siblings chatting eagerly among themselves. Normally, you would join in as well, but you're too distraught over the missing company in your hands, feeling more lonely than ever before despite being surrounded by your entire family. 

Little did you know that Father's eyes were on you throughout the entire meal. 

As you got up to leave, you hear your name being called. 

“Can you stay behind? I'd like to discuss something with you,” Father says. You gulp nervously. Father rarely asks to talk to you alone. Were you in trouble? Or did Father notice your disquiet? Either way, you nod. As everyone else leaves the dining room, only you and Father remain. 

“Come here, my child,” she says, extending her arm out to gesture to the space beside her chair. You waddle your way towards her, your head down and you try to stifle your sniffling. She places a gentle clawed hand on your shoulder, and she urges you to look at her when her other hand tilts your head. You willed your eyes to not cry. 

“Is something bothering you?” 

You shake your head. “Nothing is bothering me, Father,” you assert, but your voice cracks, signaling an obvious lie to the Harbinger. 

“I will repeat again. What is bothering you? I do not see your friend with you,” Father notes, her tone becoming sterner, glancing down at your arms. 

You stay silent for a few moments, before you beak underneath her glare. “My friend… they got broken when I was playing earlier today. An-and, I can't…” Your lips trembled as you paused, attempting not to cry with the knowledge that Father does not appreciate tears. Still, the tears escape, and you cannot prevent them from flowing down your cheeks. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for her scolding as you stammer out the rest of your response. “I-I can't fix them.”  

Father goes silent, each second of quietude feeding into your anxiety, before she says, “Can I see them, my child?” 

You crack open an eye, your vision blurry from the tears but you can tell her piercing red gaze is still on you. “M-my friend?” 

“Yes.” 

You feebly nod and make your way to the library, Father following one step behind you. Guiding her to Benny, you showcase your maimed friend, their missing limb off to the side and stuffing bleeds out of them. Father reaches out and holds the delicate toy in her hand, turning it over and examining it. 

“Can you trust me with your friend, my child?” 

You sniffle. “A-are you going to f-fix him?” 

“Yes. Will you allow me to be with them for a little while? I will ensure that they will return to you before curfew.” 

Nodding away, with shaky hands, you place the leg and the stuffing you were able to salvage into her hands. 

“Go play with your siblings in the meanwhile. Run along.” 

You follow her orders, finding your siblings and distracting yourself from the absence of your best friend until the bell for curfew rings. Filing towards the bedroom with your siblings, you anxiously scamper to your bed. 

Benny awaits you on your pillow, his leg reattached, cleanly stitched back to his body. Besides him is a piece of paper and a few pieces of candy. You look closer at the note.

“Benny was especially brave during the operation. I gave them a few tokens for their courage. They learn well from you.

-Father”